Free Agency and the Salary Cap...

Well, July 1st wasn’t exactly a banner day for the Wings. I spent the better part of the day on Puck Daddy’s live “chatterbox,” a realization which has caused me to reevaluate my life a little bit. (I swear I was doing other things during those fourteen hours too. Things like being in class and writing papers and eating food. I swear.) It was hard to watch at times, as team after team nailed down free agents while the Wings just stood there and held the door open as Marian Hossa, Tomas Kopecky, and Ty Conklin left for other teams. I felt like everyone else was improving their rosters while the Wings were just sliding backward. It’s not that I didn’t see this coming (I’m not that far out of touch with reality.), but there was a little part of me that was still hoping that things would work out better. By the end of the day, I wasn’t feeling particularly good about next season. But then I took a step back and remembered that the Wings are still going to be fielding a roster that includes the likes of Henrik Zetterberg, Pavel Datsyuk, Johan Franzen, Nicklas Lidstrom, Brian Rafalski, Dan Cleary, and, yes, Darren Helm. And I don’t think there are a lot of fans in this league who wouldn’t be thrilled to have those guys as the core of their team. So I don’t think the Wings are in the dire straits that some would say. I also don’t think they’re going to be able to get away with cakewalking their way through the majority of the regular season the way they did last year, but that might not be the worst thing in the world. A little bit of a challenge is sometimes what you need to get your head in the game and go to work.

Also, I spent more time cursing the salary cap yesterday than at any other point in its existence. Of all the things Gary Bettman has done over the years, this is the one that I hate most. Of course I realize that it’s not entirely his fault, but let’s face it, he’s the fall-guy for anything and everything that displeases me about the NHL. Seriously, yesterday someone asked me to hand them their water bottle cap that had fallen on the floor by me and I might have let out an involuntary growl at the mention of the word “cap.”

First off: Hossa. Am I disappointed that he went to Chicago? You bet. It’s possible that that’s the last place I would’ve wanted him to go to. Seriously though, you know the line in the Most Interesting Man in the World commercials about how he, “once had an awkward moment just to see how it feels?” I think Hossa heard that and decided to make it his philosophy in life. But I can’t find it within my heart to begrudge his decision. He got the cash the Wings couldn’t offer, and actually has a legitimate chance at a Cup. It’s not a bad career move at least the way it looks right now. We’ll see how things go next summer when all of Chicago’s young guns are asking for raises. I was a little surprised that he got twelve years, but I would expect him to get bought out after his big money years are done. I’m still not entirely sure what to make of the guy. I respect him for the risk he took in coming to Detroit and all of the money he passed up, but…I don’t know. It’s possible that he’s the Slovak answer Dominik Hasek’s Czech crazy train. Not in the “what was he thinking signing there?” sense, but because his decision process is as inexplicable as the one used to dole out NHL “justice.” Although I’m disappointed to see him go, I still haven’t decided if I even wanted him to stay. A while back when I heard that he’d been floated a 10-year offer from the Wings, I was pretty excited, but I knew that the team would have to give up a lot to keep him. After spending several hours mulling it over, I just reverted to my default stance, which has become sort of a Wings fan mantra over the last little while: In Kenny We Trust. It was much easier to just sit back and let him go to work. I did find it interesting that Holland gave him permission to talk to other teams last week instead of trying to trade his rights as a kind of 'thank you' for taking a chance on Detroit last year. If you're looking for some Hossa-related brilliance, head on over to The Triple Deke. It'll be worth your while.

The upside of all of this? We’re much more likely to see Hudler wearing the Winged Wheel next season, which is good if for no other reason than that we might get another super-awkward intermission report on that creepy tongue thing he does with Ozzie after victories.

In other Chicago news, Kopecky followed his apparent BFF to the Blackhawks. I don’t have a lot to say about that move. Mostly because I don’t really care. Except for those few games when we though he might be the second coming of Tomas Holmstrom because he did a better than average job fronting on the powerplay, his time with the Wings has been entirely forgettable. Unless you count the fact that his tragic orbital bone injury during the playoffs this year inspired the now-legendary quote, “Don’t break your face!” which will be repeated every time a Wing is involved in a fight from now to eternity in my house. So thanks for that. And maybe try to avoid those pesky season-ending injuries in the future… (Okay, this sounds overly hostile. I really don’t dislike Kopecky. I just don’t have any particular reason to like him either.)

The Wings other free-agent loss thus far was Ty Conklin. This is the one I can’t wrap my head around. How can the Winter Classic go on this year sans Conklin? Someone needs to orchestrate a deal in which he’s leased to either Philly or Boston just for that one day. Or maybe the NHL will have a sudden change of heart and have the Blues play instead of the Flyers. Right now he’s slated to back up Chris Mason, but it wouldn’t surprise me one bit if he was the starter there by the end of the season. With Conks gone, it falls to Jimmy Howard to be Ozzie's backup this year. That has to frighten all but the most steely-nerved Wings fans out there. Seriously, I just shuddered while I typed that sentence.

Other random free agent notes:
-Donald Brashear to the Rangers? Seriously? Are they planning on putting his locker next to Blair Betts’ too? Maybe they can room together on the road. Toss in Sean Avery, and their locker room is going to be like the set of a bad reality show.
-Rob Scuderi signed in LA. I have to say that I’m not unhappy to see him leave the Penguins. His plays at the end of Game 6 are going to haunt Wings fans for decades to come. It’s much better to tuck him away on an irrelevant team where he can’t do much damage to the Wings, even if he’s in the same conference now. Pittsburgh also lost Hal Gill, the human obstruction machine, so they’ve got some holes to fill too.
-No news on Sammy as of yet. I'm waiting for some foolish team to throw a few million bucks at him in the hopes that his aim magically improves over the summer.
-How did Marian Gaborik talk his way into that contract? Seriously. No way I’d be comfortable with that if I were a Rangers fan. His injury history is too ugly to merit that type of commitment.
-I’m eagerly anticipating hearing what the “real story” of what went down between Martin Havlat and Chicago is. There’s nothing like good NHL gossip to keep me entertained over a long holiday weekend.
-In the league’s other soap opera, I have to wonder what is going on inside Dany Heatley’s head. Seriously. Let’s recount his career: He started in Atlanta where he killed a teammate in a car accident. Then he asked to be traded so he could get out of there. Now that he’s in Ottawa, he wants to be traded again. Edmonton is doing everything they can to persuade him to allow himself to be traded there, but he won’t waive his NTC. Plus he just picked up a $4 million bonus from the Sens. My question at this point is: Why on earth would anybody want this man on their team? He’s a perennial malcontent and he has to be the equivalent of locker room poison. How can his fans or teammates in Ottawa support him after he publicly stated that he wanted out of there? And if he does end up in Edmonton, how are his new teammates/fans going to feel about the extraordinary lengths management had to go to just to convince him to come there. Not to mention the fact that now that Ottawa’s paid him his bonus, they’re going to want more in a trade, so whatever foolish team ends up with him is going to be weaker than they would’ve been if he’d made up his mind beforehand. There aren’t a whole lot of guys in the hockey world who I can’t respect under any circumstances, and Heatley’s proving once again why he’s one of them.

Good Riddance and Other Inanity...

In my attempt to sound all smart and savvy about the draft, I neglected to mention perhaps my favorite news of the weekend. It seems that Chris Pronger.You.Goon is no longer a member of the Anaheim Ducks. It's about time that waste of brain cells went to the Eastern Conference. He and his elbows have been a plague on the West for far too long. (Something I've always wondered: When he flies, do they make him pay an extra carry-on fee for his elbows?) I'd be lying if I said I didn't do a little happy dance when I heard the news. Granted, his legacy will still live on with the Ducks, as he's evidently rubbed off on his captain and GM (among others), but having him in the East means at least five fewer games every season which I'll have to spend screaming things like, "Look out, Pav!" and, "Nooooo, not Z!" It's to the point that I find myself ducking as I sat on my couch as though somehow one of his elbows could fly through my TV screen and nail me in the head. (Sorry, but I just had an incredibly traumatizing image of PYG crawling out of my TV like the girl from The Ring and I'm not sure that I can ever get that mental picture out of my head.) Much to my surprise, it turns out that there are people out there who actually like PYG. According to the writer, Proger's just a nice guy who's universally misunderstood. This quote literally made me laugh out loud:

At first blush, he can definitely come across as arrogant and prickly, but upon getting to know him, Pronger is unmasked as an extremely intelligent, articulate, candid and fun person to be around.

Seriously? For real? How am I supposed to take this "journalist" seriously when he writes things like that. It turns out that Mischa Barton really was the brains of the OC. I'm also quite fond of this little quote:

Despite having suffered a separated right shoulder, missing a portion of the game and needing multiple injections to get back into the clinching 6-2 victory over the Ottawa Senators, Pronger repeatedly raised the Cup for Ducks staff, family members and who knows who else to drink from during the boisterous locker-room celebration.

So I'm supposed to believe that PYG's a really nice guy based on the fact that he got drunk and hoisted the Cup for his friends and family after his team won? I'd venture a guess to say that *even if* he was a complete and utter douchebag, he probably would've done the same thing. It's just a hypothetical, though.

And then there's this picture. If that doesn't say it all, I don't know what does. This made me laugh even harder than the news article did. It's about time the forwards in the East found themselves in his elbow targeting radar.



Also of note is the fact that the Wings won't be bringing back Ty Conklin next year. Instead we'll be left with Jimmy Howard as Ozzie's backup. Hockey Gods forbid Ozzie goes down with an injury. I've never quite understood the organization's attachment to Howard, but I guess we'll wait and see what happens. Of all of the summers since the lockout, this is the one in which the salary cap has frustrated me the most. Anyway, 10 bucks says Conks ends up signing with Boston or Philly just so he can play in the Winter Classic.

Draft Nonsense...

So the draft happened this weekend. Like the NHL Awards, I've never felt compelled to watch the draft. In all honesty, I think I'd rather watch paint dry. Part of it is due to the fact that I don't particularly care about any of the players involved (yet). Another factor is that, since so many of them will barely accomplish anything career-wise, it hardly seems worth it to make time in my busy schedule to study prospects. I prefer to leave that to wiser minds. Truth be told, the Wings front office has never given me a reason to doubt their judgment (except maybe that time they traded for Todd Bertuzzi and I had repeated hissy fits). If Ken Holland, Jimmy Devellano, Steve Yzerman, Hakan Andersson, Jim Nill, et al announced that they wanted to draft my grandma, well, let's just say I'd be the first one on the bandwagon.

After the fact, I took a look at the Wings' picks (mostly just so I can say I remember when they were drafted should they end up on the NHL roster). Obviously, none of them are NHL-ready at the moment, but that's the way things go when you're successful. And, let's face it, if any team is likely to have mined a late-round gem, it's the Wings. The first player that stood out to me was Mitchell Callahan, an enforcer/fighter. It's not that they couldn't use a guy like him around, I just think it's going to be hard for him to make his way into the lineup what with all of the skill guys he'd have to beat out. I did like the one description that I read about him that said that he's the kind of guy who'd go to hell and back for his teammates. I like that quality in a player, and that kind of mentality seems like it would fit in well in the organization. If he does make it to the big show, there's no doubt that he'll be a crowd favorite. That's just how we roll in Detroit.

The other thing that stood out to me was Landon Ferraro's plus/minus stat. While it's not the be-all end-all of statistics, it just seemed un-Red Wing-like. On the other hand, if there's one thing the Wings organization has shown over the years, it's the ability to take an offensively skilled guy and get him to buy into a defense-first mentality.

So anyway, here's hoping that Kenny Holland and the boys worked their magic again this weekend and we'll be seeing a few of these guys in the Winged Wheel a few years down the road. Also, isn't it cute how I've spent the last three paragraphs pretending to know what I'm talking about?

One last note on the draft: The Islanders had a viewing party at the Nassau Coliseum that drew over 10,000 fans. Maybe I've just been living under a rock, but I don't ever remember hearing about something like that before. Did Pittsburgh fans do this when they drafted Crosby? Anyway, the crowd went absolutely nuts when Tavares' name was called. Seriously, it looked like they'd just won the Cup or something. Watch the video. People are hugging and screaming and jumping up and down. In all my years of fandom, I can't ever remember being that excited about a draft pick. Not when Datsyuk was drafted. Not when Zetterberg was drafted. Not ever. Don't get me wrong, I wish I had that kind of foresight, but the only reason I remember reading about Z's selection was because his last name was fun to say and I'm easily amused. Maybe it's just because I'm young enough that I can't remember anything but Red Wing domination and the low and obscure draft picks that that entails. From my limited frame of reference, they've never been in need of a "franchise savior" or hockey Jesus.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, Part Three...

The ugly:

The final installment of my season recap features the worst of the worst. It's the stuff that was too bad to make the cut for the bad post. Not all of it's nice, but (most of) it's all in good fun.

--The NHL has a long and storied history of featuring guys like Scott Hartnell. And I say, "keep it coming." There's nothing more beautiful in this world than seeing a guy like Hartnell step out on the ice in full hockey regalia. He wouldn't even need to play a shift. Simply sitting on the bench with that face would be enough.
--The Handshake Incident. I have nothing to add to this. I don't even care that Crosby didn't shake everyone's hands. I'm mostly irritated with the way the media handled it all. They somehow, I'm assuming through a great deal of effort, managed to be less professional than Sid the Kid. They should be ashamed of themselves.
--At one point during the regular season, I watched a game against Dallas on Versus with my brother. By the end of the first period, we weren't sure that the announcers were aware that they were calling a hockey game. We lost count of the outside sports metaphors that were used to describe plays being made on the ice. I don't remember all of them, but they included the announcement that someone had just tried to "alley-oop" the puck into the net, that the score was currently 1-Love, and several others that went beyond the standard "quarterbacking the powerplay" that's commonly used. Even better, later on, they described this save by Chris Osgood as "mastodonic." We still haven't figured out what that means. I'm assuming it was a compliment, but honestly, there's no way to tell. If you happen to know exactly what he was trying to say, by all means, enlighten me in the comments section. The highlight of the game, however, was when one of the Versus guys said that Pavel Datsyuk played with, "such fabulosity," thus introducing me to my new favorite word. There was a month there where my brother and I couldn't have a conversation without dropping "fabulosity" at least a dozen times. This is perhaps the only thing for which I've ever been grateful to Versus. Oh to have had my DVR back then...

--This picture will probably haunt me forever. Not to mention the fact that I can't even bring myself to post one of Crosby hoisting the Cup.
--The Goal that Wasn't. Things worked alright in the Anaheim series, so this goal won't cause Wings fans to convulse the way Buffalo fans do when shown this goal, but still... The worst part was the way the NHL closed ranks to defend Brad Watson and his patently obvious error. A few days later, an NBA referee blew a call that changed the outcome of a close game, and the league acknowledged it publicly. While it didn't change the fact that the mistake had happened, at least it gave the NBA the appearance of being a professional organization with standards and accountability, something the NHL is sorely lacking.
--Then there was the matter of the lowlife who stole Henrik Zetterberg's game-used stick from a kid after the Winter Classic. Seriously. Stories like that make me wonder what the world has come to. The whole incident had a happy ending, as the guy who bought the stick from the thief sent it back to the kid, and both ended up with something. Conclusions like that at least partially restore my faith in humanity. Props to the guy for returning the stick to the kid after he read about the incident. There need to be more people like that in the world.
--The saga of the Phoenix Coyotes and Jim Balsillie was timed perfectly so as to serve as a distraction from the league's showcase event: the playoffs. While I never bothered to delve into the financial/legal aspects of the mess, I have to admit that a little part of me wanted Jimmy Balls to come out on top, just so Gary Bettman would lose. I don't know, maybe that makes me a bad person or even worse, a bad hockey fan, but I'm not sure I care all that much. I couldn't shake the feeling that a Bettman loss would be the beginning of the end for the commish, and that's enough to get me to support just about any bandwagon.
--"The Beard is Back." It's entirely possible that this is the worst playoff slogan ever invented. When you combine it with the signs saying, "You're entering a no-shave zone," it's a complete and utter disaster. I love a good playoff beard as much as the next fan, but there's a difference between having something as a quirky hockey tradition and using it as a major marketing campaign. Mike Ilitch needs to fire his marketing team. I'm assuming that they're the same people behind those atrocious Little Caesar's ads. Find a new line of work, people. Please. You wouldn't think it would have been that hard to find a way to market the defending Stanley Cup champions. My kid sister could've come up with a better slogan. Ugh. And was it really necessary to adorn the Al outside the entrance to the Joe with a big fake beard? I tried one of those on, and I'm pretty sure I have black lung disease now from inhaling the pieces it shed. Al deserves better than that.
--Donald Brashear's hit on Blair Betts during the first round of the playoffs was another truly ugly moment from the 08-09 season. If watching this video doesn't make you shudder, you're probably a sociopath and should leave this blog immediately.


--Valtteri Filppula's hair continues to get worse and worse with each passing season. You'd think that with all of the money this guy makes, he'd be able to find a better stylist. Until this season, I was unaware that he had a little cult-like following of girls who find him sexy. I can only assume that these are the Michigan-born cousins of the Sidney Crosby fangirls that plague the Pittsburgh area.
--This video of a distraught Sharks fan after his team's elimination is pathetic in every way possible. (Make sure you stay with it until the parents show up. That's when it really gets good.) It's like a trainwreck that you just can't stop watching. And yet, strangely, watching it makes me feel a little bit better about myself. Not even in my lowest moment have I ever approached the level of...I don't think there's even a word for it...that he displays in this video. I sincerely hope that his parents got him some psychiatric help.
--Last but not least, the NHL's disciplinary process managed to devolve into even more of a complete and utter joke. I'd link videos, but honestly, there are too many to choose from. Coming up with a comprehensive and consistent policy needs to be the NHL's top priority before somebody ends up with a life-threatening injury from one of these nasty hits that are tolerated so long as the victim is able to skate away with his head intact.

On a personal note:
-I managed to sprain my toe whilst flailing around on the floor in front of my TV during the final minutes of Game 7. Clearly, this was not a high point in my life.

Part One: The Good
Part Two: The Bad

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, Part Two...

The bad:

This just gets more and more fun as it goes on. Stay tuned for the Ugly coming up soon. Why do I like this part better than the good? Do you really have to ask? Let's face it, it's a lot more fun to make snarky comments and mock things than to praise them. I'm not sure what that says about my personality, but I can assure you, it's nothing good.

--I'll start with the obvious: Game 7. This one needs no explanation. It's going to take a while to get over that one.
--In a related note: Max Talbot. I passed a street named Talbot yesterday, and I shuddered. I twitch when I hear someone say the name Max. At one point a few months ago, I was checking out at Target and my total was $34.70. I had to add a candy bar just so that number wouldn't show up on my credit card bill. Seriously. I think metro-Detroit area psychiatrists are going to be overwhelmed by an epidemic of Max-Talbot-induced neurotic disorders. And yet, I can't find it within myself to hate the man. That's incredibly strange considering how feisty I generally am, but it's probably a symptom of my recently acquired psychiatric disorder. At least I'll have good company when they finally throw me in the loony bin with all of the other die hard Wings fans.
--The penalty kill. All season long, this was an absolute disaster. And the worst part was that no matter how many hours I spent attempting to find a rational explanation for why it was so bad, I never quite found an answer. With their great defensive corps, combined with the top two-way forwards in the league, there's no reason the Wings' PK shouldn't have been number one in the league.
--The spectacular disappearance of the Wings vaunted secondary scoring during the Finals. I was betting on the Wings walking away with the Cup because I figured the stars would cancel each other out, making it a battle of the third and fourth lines. It turns out that I was pretty much right. The problem was that Pittsburgh's depth guys managed to get the job done when it mattered most whereas the Wings' didn't accomplish a whole lot. Part of me hopes that they all spend their summers wallowing in misery like I am.
--I keep waiting for a day when a player, disturbed by Pierre McGuire's lack of respect for personal space, finally cross checks him right out of his little "cubicle" between the benches and into the stands, where drunken fans will proceed to polish his head and spill nacho cheese all over him. Seriously. Has he never been introduced to the concept of a "bubble?" Watching his interviews made me shudder for the sake of the players involved.
--The NHL's officiating continued to decline in quality. I've already ranted about it in several different posts, so I'm not going to waste my time again. It's almost disgraceful at times. Suffice it to say that the NHL is the laughing-stock of professional sports leagues.
--On the subject of officiating, the failure to call Pittsburgh's too many men on the ice penalty still blows my mind. We'll never know for sure if it had a significant impact on the game or not, but my God. You'd like to think that the NHL would make sure its referees could count at least up to double digits before they were hired. And if it's true that instead of calling the penalty, they warned the Penguins to get their extra guy off of the ice, well, now we're opening doors to paths that I don't even want to think about.
--There's this guy named Cabbie who does interviews with the players. I have no idea how he got this job, but it makes me sad when I think about the number of really bright people I know who are unemployed. Even if you ignore the Terminator effects he used to spice up this interview with Nick Lidstrom, watching him grope the Swede toward the end did damage to my psyche that will never be quite undone. I would pay good money to know what was going on in Lidstrom's head at that moment.
--On the subject of Lidstrom, the quasi-suspensions he and Pavel Datsyuk received for not attending the All Star game were an absolute joke. Especially in light of the number of "automatic" suspensions that were overturned by the league during the playoffs. It's not that sitting out a game in the middle of the regular season was all that serious. If anything, it was probably good for them to get an extra couple of days to recuperate. It was the principle of the matter, and when people wonder why there are so many conspiracy theorists amongst the Wings' fan base, they need look no further than things like that.
--Then there was the loss of Mrs. Hockey. It was a sad day for everyone in the hockey community, and especially those of us in Hockeytown. Obviously I didn't know her, but I can't help but think that we would've gotten along. I've always liked trailblazers like her, and especially women who weren't content to just stay home and cook and care for the kids.
--Pavel Datsyuk's Dr. Rahmani ad. I love Datsyuk. I really do. But every time this ad came on, I couldn't help but laugh at the poor man. Please, Pav, next year, find something better to shill for.
--That 7-6 loss to the Penguins during the regular season. This remains one of the most spectacular third period collapses I've ever seen. Thinking about it still makes me a little bit angry.

On a more personal note:
--There is literally no one happier that the playoffs are over than my poor puppy. All through the playoffs, I seemed to come up with new and more humiliating ways to torment her. Due to my boredom as I waited out the break between the first and second rounds, one night I decided it would be a good idea to give her a haircut. Let's just say that there's a reason I'm not a dog groomer. At another point, my brother dug out his Al the octopus stuffed animal with velcro tentacles and strapped it around her back so we could take pictures. After attending a game during the third round, we brought our red and white pom poms home and stuck them in her collar, again to take pictures. During the Finals, I dressed her in my old Shanny baseball-style jersey and spent half an hour trying to convince her to chew on her squeaky penguin toy. I don't think I've ever seen anything as pathetic as when she curled up on the floor in miserable defeat because the jersey kept tripping her. All this was on top of us trying to train her to bark when the Wings scored. The poor puppy did not deserve any of this.
--One of the games I went to this season was a loss to Colorado. I know the rivalry's dead and all, but I came into my own as a Wings fan during the heat of the Wings-Avs rivalry, and a little part of me will always carry that with me. There's a reason I have a framed picture of Darren McCarty beating Claude Lemieux to a bloody pulp.
--Then there was the fact that I gave away work shifts (aka turned down money) in order to watch playoff games. Not that I would've been mentally functioning if I'd been working, but the teeny tiny rational part of my brain keeps reminding me how stupid that was.
--Being at the Hockeytown Cafe, again in the City Theater, for yet another potentially Cup-clinching loss. I don't think I'm ever going to go there for a playoff game again. Especially not in the Finals.

Part One: The Good
Part Three: The Ugly

Season Review: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, Part One...

In order to avoid making this post epically long, I decided to break it up into three separate entries. Like the Unofficial Awards, this is a long-standing tradition in my life, with the title most likely inspired my my father's love of watching reruns of westerns with me as a child.

The good:

Despite the number of hours I spent screaming at my TV and mentally strangling the NHL (yes, it’s possible to strangle an organization) over the course of the last year, the 2008-2009 season turned out to be a pretty good one. It fell one game short of being great, but it’s not like I didn’t enjoy the ride. Here we have the best of the best, or at any rate, the best that I could remember off the top of my head. Please feel free to remind me of any highlights that I might have missed.

--The Winter Classic. Despite Pavel Datsyuk’s wind-aided goal, the Classic was an amazing experience and, quite frankly, one of the few things the NHL got right this year. It was so much fun that part of me felt bad for the fans of other teams who had no rooting interest in the game. You pretty much knew it was going to be epic when Mike Babcock and staff came out wearing fedoras. I think that was the moment when I realized that he was probably the only coach who could replace Scotty Bowman in my heart. The other highlight of the game: Henrik Zetterberg + eye black. I’m just saying… (Why are there not any better pictures of this? Seriously.)
--Possibly my favorite part of the playoffs was Ozzie semi-silencing his critics. He was supposed to be the Wings’ weak link, and he came this close to walking away with a well-deserved Conn Smythe trophy. Honestly, of all the Wings, he’s the one I felt worst for at the end of Game 7. It seemed like no matter how well he played, analysts kept saying he was going to implode and the next game would surely showcase the “real” Chris Osgood. But game in and game out, the man was an absolute wall. I’m of the opinion that the way a player performs when he’s under maximum pressure shows his true character, and this year, Ozzie did nothing but reaffirm my faith in him. Despite losing, the man has nothing to be ashamed of.
--I was also a huge fan of CBC’s Coldplay intro to the Finals. If ever there was a song that you wouldn’t associate with hockey, it’s “The Scientist.” Those Canadians made it work in a spectacular fashion, though. In moments like those, I almost wish that I was Canadian. Last year, when I didn’t have cable, my playoff mantra was TGFC—thank god for Canada!—and CBC was literally the only thing that kept me sane. Despite the fact that they lost their Song, aka the unofficial Canadian anthem, this year, those guys never let me down.
--In other random media notes, I was thrilled to see the reemergence of the Cup lift commercial. This is quite possibly the greatest advertisement ever made. It’s hard to believe that the NHL was responsible for it. That strange and pathetic sound you hear every time it’s played is thousands of grown men simultaneously bursting into tears. At any rate, it’s absolutely mesmerizing. I can’t tear my eyes away from it when it’s on, nor would I want to. When I missed games this year, I would stop fast forwarding through the commercials on my DVR just so I could watch this one. And there’s no greater complement that I can give to a marketing instrument.
--Speaking of mesmerizing, one of the Wings’ season highlights was Datsyuk’s epic shootout goal against Minnesota. Much like the Cup commercial, I don’t think I will ever tire of watching this replayed on youtube. It’s pretty safe to assume that at least 75% of the views for that video were from me. It was a Dangle Dangle Special of the highest order.
--Also on the subject of Datsyuk, few interviews could top his chat with Mickey Redmond while serving his quasi-suspension after the All-Star Game. It should be mandatory that he give interviews like that 365 days a year.
--Another of Mick’s finest moments was the interview he and Ken Daniels did with Gary Bettman in which Mickey “debated” (which is a kind way of saying that he delivered an intellectual ass-kicking) many of the issues nearest and dearest to Wings fans’ hearts with the commish. Because, clearly, I needed another reason to love Mickey Redmond. Not many people involved in the game have had the audacity to publicly stand up to Bettman and *gasp* question his actions, and you have to imagine that it took the commish a week curled up under his security blanket made from Sidney Crosby’s game-worn jerseys to get over the affront. I’m not sure whether I liked the look on Bettman’s face as he squirmed while Mr. Bingo Bango dared challenge him or the awkward look on Ken Daniel’s face as he desperately tried to find a way to rein Mickey in. I still haven’t found a youtube video of this “debate,” and that makes me sad on many levels.
--The fake Henrik Zetterberg ads. These things make my life. As far as I'm concerned, they're sheer brilliance on the part of the guys who created them. Also, this video. It should send chills down your spine if you're a true hockey fan.
--One of the best regular season things the organization did was begin the $15 student tickets around Christmas time. I realize that this was only in response to the lousy economy, and thus it’s a little hard to take joy in it, but it allowed me to attend more games that I had ever been able to before. I hope they continue this next season, because, let’s face it, Wings games are like my version of crack. The more I watch, the more I need to fulfill my craving.

And a few more on a personal level:
--I had the opportunity to meet Ted Lindsay at the Joe this year. I got his autograph, but more importantly, I was able to shake his hand. This was perhaps one of the finest moments in my career as a hockey fan (yeah, I said “career”).
--During another visit to the Joe, my friend and I were running late and arrived after the game had started. The concourse was pretty much deserted as we were running to our seats. As we passed by one of the pillars, I spotted something out of the corner of my eye. Sitting right there, 5 feet away at a book-signing table, was none other than Mr. Hockey. I stopped dead in my tracks and blurted out, “Holy shit, that’s Gordie Howe.” He then proceeded to look up at me and laugh. That’s right. Gordie freakin’ Howe looked me in the eye and chuckled at me. I stood there for a moment with what can be best described as a look of bewilderment on my face. Then I did a little half-wave, and ran away to find my seat. You had better believe that I’ll be telling that story to my grandkids some day.
--Going to my first playoff game was another personal highlight. I'll never forget rising to my feet in unison with the entire crowd as the Wings broke in on a 3-on-1 in overtime. While there is literally nothing that can ever be done to make me enjoy playoff OT, this was by far the greatest play I've ever witnessed in person at the Joe.
--Starting this blog has quite possibly saved my life. It’s hard to believe, considering the enormous amount of time that I waste on the internet every day, but for some reason, I was completely unaware that there was a vast hockey blogging community until halfway through this season. Once I saw the brilliance that was out there, it was only a matter of time until I felt compelled to join in and have my say. Putting my thoughts out here has been a wonderfully cathartic alternative to ranting and raving at (yes, “at,” not “to”) my friends and family who care about the Wings significantly less than I do. Mostly it's just good to know that there are other crazies like myself out there. Suffering alone is no fun at all.

Part Two: The Bad
Part Three: The Ugly

More Tuesday Announcements...

It wasn't an oversight that I didn't mention Stevie Y's stellar collection of HoF "classmates" in my last entry. I just felt like Yzerman deserved his own post. After all, as Puck Daddy said

Impact: Good lord, where do you start? How about here: The sight of a pristine red Detroit sweater with "Yzerman 19" on the back is known to bring grown men to tears.

That pretty much says it all, even if it's vaguely echoic of something I wrote in my last post.

Remember way back in 2002 when the Wings won with their who's-who of future Hall of Famers? Well, adding Yzerman, Brett Hull, and Luc Robitaille this year puts five members of that team into the HoF, if you count Scotty Bowman. Not bad, eh?

While I never developed a particularly deep affection for Robitaille as a Wings player, he always seemed like a stand-up guy. By the time he made it to Detroit, he was well past his prime, so my expectations were always set unfairly high for him, but unlike Marian Hossa, he chose wisely when seeking to win the Cup. (Please insert your own Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade joke here.)

Brett Hull, on the other hand, never ceased to amuse me with his various antics. Not everybody approved of his outspokenness and candor at times, but I always thought, even before he came to the Wings, that he was exactly the type of personality that the league needed. Plus, I don't think I could ever tire of watching the TV announcers marvel over the bend in his stick as they showed replays of shots in slo-mo. Not to mention that his self-titled "Two Kids and an Old Goat" line was my first introduction to Pavel Datsyuk, the only player to ever surpass Hull in terms of amusing me.

Every year it seems like the HoF inductions are more and more interesting to me on a personal level. When I visited the hall when I was younger, it always seemed somehow abstract and foreign to me (and I'm not even going to discuss how awful that "be a goalie" game was). It was like a shrine to a past generation, full of the names of players of whom I had heard or seen pictures, but I was never quite able to connect with them. Now, as each induction class brings in more players that I have seen first-hand, I feel like there is more meaning for me personally.

It's easy to discuss Gordie Howe and his legacy and impact on the game, but it's an entirely different thing to have watched him play game in and game out over the course of his career. It's not to say that I don't value Mr. Hockey as a player and ambassador of the game, but it's difficult to fully appreciate his greatness from a few grainy highlight reel clips and a biography or two.

On the other hand, seeing guys like The Captain, Hull, Robitaille, and Leech (although to a lesser extent) get named to the Hall feels much more concrete. It allows me to put their accomplishments into context and draw on my own memories. I can reminisce about spectacular plays or championships, and it almost becomes personal to me, as if those are shared memories that I can draw on because they were a part of my life. I have no doubt in my mind that someday in the future, I'm going to be leading my kids around the HoF recounting the defining moments in the careers of guys like Yzerman, Lidstrom, Shanny, and so many others until said children develop a nervous disorder manifested by beginning to convulse at the mere mention of the word, "hockey," or the phrase, "I remember this one time..."

In other news, it's sounding more and more likely that Mike Babcock is going to be Team Canada's coach at the upcoming Olympics. (Speaking of the Olympics, I'm pretty sure the entire Wings roster is going to be suiting up in Vancouver.) This should be fantastically fun to watch. Mostly, I can't wait until the Canada/Sweden game during which, in an ironic twist of fate, Babs is forced to watch Henrik Zetterberg render Sidney Crosby useless (again), but from the opposite viewpoint. Seriously, congrats to Babcock, though. If I was Canadian, he's the guy I'd want behind the bench. Actually, I think he should volunteer to coach Team USA just to prove, once and for all, that he's not anti-American. Someone should run that idea by him. I only want credit if he doesn't laugh in your face.

Steve Yzerman...

There are a handful of things in this world which are simply indisputable. They just...are. The fact that Steve Yzerman would be a first-ballot Hall of Famer was one of those things. I mean was there anyone out there who thought otherwise? I can't say enough about the man. Truth be told, I'm not sure I'm worthy. I honestly can't consider anyone who doesn't love Stevie Y to be a true Red Wings fan. Not to shame Nick Lidstrom, because he's doing a fine job filling some awfully big skates, but there are still moments when I catch a glimpse of the 'C' on his jersey and almost expect to see Yzerman propping himself up on his stick. The Captain's first season as such began just two months after I was born, and it still seems somewhat bizarre to see anyone else in that role. It took me an entire season to adjust to the dramatic realignment of my worldview that occurred when he retired. My biggest regret as a hockey fan is spending the last half of his final season in the hockey hell known as Florida where I was only able to catch parts of two games. I'm almost sad to admit it, but one of my most prized possessions is my #19 jersey. It's made from the good material they used to use, and as far as I'm concerned, it's priceless. I'll probably still be rocking it at Wings games fifty years from now when my hockey-obsessed grandchildren are pushing me to my seat in my tricked out wheelchair with Stanley Cup hubcaps.

I feel like I've been waxing nostalgic on this blog a lot lately, but I can't help it on today of all days. Steve Yzerman was one of my idols growing up. As a child, I once told my mother that if I ever got a terminal disease and Make A Wish wanted to grant me a wish, she had to tell them that I wanted to meet Steve Yzerman in case I wasn't able to talk for myself anymore. I was obviously a fun kid to be around. I'll also never forget the night he scored his 600th goal. Every single person in the arena stood and clapped when they made the announcement. We clapped and clapped and clapped through what must have been an entire commercial break. My hands were bright red by the time we finished clapping. And Yzerman simply stood up near the end of the bench, raised his stick up in the air once, and then put his head back down and went to work. Because that's what we do in Detroit. Nothing short of total amnesia could ever erase that image from my mind.

But seriously folks. There's literally no way to even begin to summarize what The Captain has meant to the Red Wings, and me personally. Players like him don't come around every generation, and he's part of the reason why I truly, deeply love hockey. And I'm not the only one. During his last six or seven years, it almost felt like he had a religious following in Detroit. Even now, I'm pretty sure I leave a trail of grown men crying in my wake when I walk around the Joe in my Yzerman jersey, so moving is the sight of his name and number set against the rich red background. When his name is mentioned in conversation by a Wings fan, it's said with a hint of reverence usually reserved for the Pope and heads of state.

So here's to one hell of a career from a guy who exemplified every aspect of leadership and class. Quite simply, he's the greatest Captain in the history of sports. It wouldn't surprise me if there were some people out there who might disagree with this last statement (six billion people in the world, there are bound to be one or two fools), but I'm fully prepared to shoot down every argument they might make with such vehemence and wit that their great-grandchildren will spontaneously burst into tears at random intervals in their lives.

It still sometimes seems weird that The Captain's not out there on the ice. As fans, we move on and find new players to obsess over, new agonizing situations, and new reasons to hop on board the stress train. The team's enjoyed success since he retired, and I believe that it will continue to do so for quite some time. It's not like Lidstrom hasn't done a bang-up job wearing the C. In fact, the only knock against him is that he's not Steve Yzerman. There's even a fine heir-apparent to the captaincy in Henrik Zetterberg, but as wonderfully talented as the current incarnation of the team is, there's a part of me that I think will always feel that something is missing. And that something is the player who was the heart and soul and even the knees of the single greatest love of my life for so many years. Steve Yzerman.

So Long, Cheli...

So no more Chris Chelios. I have to say that even though I'm not remotely surprised, I'm a little torn about this. On a personal level, I'm much more likely to survive the next season now that my blood pressure won't be spiking every time he sets foot on the ice. On the other hand, I have a lot of respect for the guy, and I think he's one of the last great "old school" players out there. Every time I screamed, "Chellllliiiiiiiiiiii!!!" at the TV during his playoff appearances this year, there was a little voice in the back of my head that was telling me that I should be nicer to him. I would never dream of apologizing for my words or actions during the heat of a playoff game, but sometimes I did feel a little bad. I certainly hope he ends up somewhere next season. Guys like Cheli deserve to go out on their own terms. I wouldn't be particularly surprised if he ends up as the 6th or 7th man on a young team that needs a mentor for their D-men. He did a pretty good job working with Kronwall and Jiri Fischer back in the day.

Seriously, one of the highlights of my high school days was when his son played travel baseball in the same league as my little brother. I got to meet him at games a few times, and he was just a straight-up nice guy. He actually reminded me of my dad a little bit. The last time I saw him was at the end of the second round in the '02 playoffs. He was listening to the Colorado-San Jose Game 7 on a Walkman (yeah, an old-school Walkman. In 2002.) waiting to see who the Wings would be facing. He was sitting in his son's dugout and someone asked him who he'd rather face. He said, "San Jose," without any hesitation. I remember finding it funny because earlier I had read the standard, "we don't care who we play, blah, blah, blah," quote from him in the newspaper (Quick nostalgia moment: remember when we used to get papers in Detroit?).

So anyway, I really do hope he ends up somewhere. I wouldn't even care if that somewhere was Chicago. Maybe then his mom could get rid of that god-awful franken-jersey she was wearing during the playoffs.

Are We Seriously Still Talking About This?...

For cryin' out loud, can we just move on already? It's been a little over a week now, and the Handshake Incident is still being discussed. Snapshots has a link to yet another media "analysis" of it. I mean, really, there's nothing else we can talk about? There's nothing else Nick Lidstrom could've been asked about at the NHL Awards show? Nothing?

I realize that I'm only continuing the discussion by contributing it, but there's a certain amount that I can take in silence, and once that level is reached, I have to have my say about it.

The general consensus is that this whole thing was started when Kris Draper called Crosby out for not shaking Lidstrom's hand after the game. One of the Pittsburgh writers described him as having "piggybacked his way to four championships," which is a funny way to describe a former Selke winner who's been a heart and soul guy on the most dominant team in the NHL for 16 years now. Granted, under any other circumstance, I don't think Draper would've spoken out that way, but the fact remains that he wasn't the one who started this whole nightmare. It was Crosby, out on the ice at Joe Louis Arena, not participating in half of the handshake line.

The standard Crosby defense from the adoring media is that he's just a young kid reveling in his first Stanley Cup. That's wonderful, but he's still the captain of the Penguins. I'm one year older than Crosby, but you don't see me tossing my relative youth around as an excuse for all of my failures. You can either be an overwhelmed kid who got lost in the shuffle, or you can be a man who displays leadership worthy of wearing the C. You can't have it both ways if you want to earn any respect in this world.

Also, you'd think that a guy who's been followed around by media for years would realize when he's about to put his skate in his mouth. His quotes about the expectation to participate in the handshake line being "unreasonable" and having the "right to celebrate" did nothing to erase his league-wide (outside of Pittsburgh and Gary Bettman's office) as being a petulant child. Who knows? Maybe he's really a nice guy. Maybe he spends all of his free time helping little old ladies cross the street with their groceries. But the fact remains that all he had to do is say something to the effect of, "I'm sorry. I honestly didn't mean to insult anyone. I got caught up in the moment and I know I was a little bit late to the handshake line. I certainly didn't mean to disrespect one of our great hockey traditions," and it all would've gone away. Just like when Chris Chelios had to apologize for not shaking the Ducks' hands in '07 (and for the record, I was pretty angry at him when he left the ice like that.)

It clearly was neither the end of the world nor a career-defining moment for Crosby, so at this point, why should anyone care? Nobody in their right mind is going to say, "Gee, I really liked that Crosby guy until he skipped half of a handshake line." For the rest, and I think majority, of us out there, it's just one more incident to file away with in our mental Why Crosby's A Classless and Miserable Excuse for A Captain files. Believe me, if this didn't sway you, the Handshake sure won't.

Honestly, the worst part of all of this is the fact that it's resulted in Draper, Lidstrom, and Henrik Zetterberg, who also made an uncharacteristically blunt comment, getting dragged through the mud by almost everyone. I'm pretty sure nobody before now has accused any of those three guys of anything remotely controversial. Let's face it, this guy had to use Terminator effects and grope his chest to make a Nick Lidstrom interview interesting. (Watch Lidstrom's face at the end of this interview. I don't think he even knows what to do.) Mostly I suspect they all just want this to go away. But if there's one thing reporters love, it's controversy and scandal, so you can be pretty sure that this is going to be rehashed over and over again until it makes you want to kick babies.