Weekly Wrap-Up Volume Twenty-one...

Caption Mondays: Jeffy Neuie cracked me up with this week's caption winner.

Darren: Aaarf, aaarf, arrf!
Dino: Huh?
Darren: That's seal for: gimme some water!

Trivia Tuesdays: TimFill managed to continue his impressive trivia run.

This week's question: Who was the first overall draft pick at the only entry draft held at the Joe?

The Answer: Buffalo selected Pierre Tugeon at the Joe on June 13, 1987.

Trivia Tuesdays Volume 21...

Who was the first overall draft pick at the only entry draft held at the Joe?

(It's a tad late, but you get the idea.)

Red Wings 6, Lightning 2: Post Game Snipes...

• One of my lifelong dreams has been to attend a Wings road game. I went to see them play Tampa last night, but I'm not sure that counts. Walking up to the arena, Wings jerseys outnumbered Lightning ones 4 to 1. I didn't see my first Bolts gear until I actually made it to area right outside of the rink. I expected there to be a significant percentage of Wings fans in attendance, but it was still exciting to see the army of red and white sweaters heading into the building. That has to be demoralizing for the home team/crowd.
• They were giving away noisemakers last night, but I was denied one because I was a Wings fan. I was okay with it though, because I don't have any desire to own anything that features the logo of another NHL team, even if the Bolts are my Eastern Conference secondary team. Once the game got underway, I figured out why they chose last night to do that giveaway: without the noisemakers, the home crowd didn't stand a chance of being heard over the thunderous LGRW chants the Wings fans started. The Bolts fans played the living daylights out of those noisemakers all game long. I found it obnoxious until I grabbed one on the way out. It was only then that I realized why they had been playing with them non-stop: they're incredibly fun and addictive. I used mine to play music to accompany my CD player for most of the trip home.
• I got to the rink excessively early because I wanted to make sure I had time to take a lap around the concourse and explore the only non-JLA NHL arena I'd ever been in. The place was nice enough, but I still missed the campiness of the Joe. The walls of the concourse were covered with giant replicas of front pages of the St. Pete Times from the past. It was more of a shrine to the newspaper than to hockey, which is also my number one reason for wishing against all odds that the Wings will never have to share a building with the Pistons.
• More I-miss-the-Joe notes: they only sell bottled pop there; I keep saying this wasteland is uncivilized and nobody believes me. This should prove it. Food and drink prices were way more expensive than I was used to at the Joe. I guess we really are spoiled back home.
• Call me a sap, but I also missed the old scoreboard at the Joe. The one in Tampa is slick for sure, but I found it hard to read, especially when I was trying to see how much time was left on powerplays. (Old people live in Florida. They should use larger-sized numbers so they can have a chance at seeing vital info like that. I could barely make it out and I'm young and spry.) [The entire purpose of the rant in parentheses was so that I could use the word “spry.”]
• The loudest cheer of the night came (predictably) when they showed Steve Yzerman on the scoreboard before the game started.
• By the time the Wings got the scoring underway, the ratio of red to blue in the stands had evened out for the most part. When they netted their first goal, half of the arena stood up and cheered. There was an entire section in the lower bowl that was almost full of Wings faithful.
• A fun game might be to play Where's Waldo? The Lightning Fan? with this picture:
  
  
  
• The Wings brought their A-game in the first period; perhaps they were eager to show Stevie that he should've stayed in Detroit.
• During the first intermission (and maybe the second—I left my seat during that one), there was what boils down to a zamboni party bus. It was towing the Bolts' mascot behind it on a wake-board. It was...interesting.
  
• Things went decidedly downhill during the second period as the Wings allowed the Bolts to erase their lead and tie the game up. Somehow they managed to wake up again and take back control of the game.
• I managed to get a shot of Abby's goal as the puck hit the twine. It was a really exciting moment for me.
• Here's a SSDD exclusive look inside my thought process during Darren Helm's breakaway goal: “Ooooh loose puck! What a chance to-oh, wait, it's Helm. Crap. Oh my god he scored!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Don't get me wrong—I love Helm as much as anyone, but I'm so used to seeing him go the donut goalie route on chances like that that I pretty much expect it now.
• I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Pavel Datsyuk is a ridiculous human being. There's really nothing more to add about him.
• The box score says the Lightning had twenty shots in the third, but it didn't seem like it at all.
• The final octopi tally for the night was three. One of the arena workers even twirled one. This made me deliriously happy, albeit a tad confused.
• I had a total emo moment during the third period when I started to wonder if it would be the last time I ever got to see Lidstrom play live. Last time I did an internship here, I missed Yzerman's last season. Things like this give me anxiety.

Hero: Pavel Datsyuk
His two goals made my night.

Villain: I'm not making anyone a villain for this game. I'm still in too good of a mood.


Final Thought:
I felt more at home at the game than I have at any point since I've been in Florida. I love hockey.

I Won't Say Goodbye...

We’ve all known this day was coming for a while now. I honestly didn’t think he was going to take the Tampa Bay job, but I guess that shows what I know. It could be a lot worse. Tampa is in the East, so we won’t be seeing a lot of Stevie’s new team. I’ve also never found a reason to hate them. My feeling toward the Bolts is best described as “indifferent,” with an occasional tinge of general dislike toward warm-weather teams.

That being said, I feel like a little kid who has just been abandoned. It’s a weird feeling. It’s the same way I felt when he retired. This is the first day in my life in which Steve Yzerman is associated with another NHL organization, and seeing that picture of him with the Tampa Bay lapel pin is somehow jarring. I prefer to imagine that we're loaning him out to Tampa even if that makes no sense at all. I’ll get over it, I guess. I really do wish him the best of luck. I don’t think anyone in Detroit could begrudge his decision to take this next step. I do suspect, however, that I’m going to be spending the next week having nightmares about a Wings-Lightning Final someday.

You can have him as your GM, Tampa, but he’ll always be our Captain. You can’t take that away from us. There's a banner hanging in the rafters of Joe Louis Arena that proves he's a Wing for life. It hurts to see him walk away, but in the end I can't help but be happy for him. So no, I won't say goodbye...just good luck.

What the Joe Means to Me...

A couple of months ago, I had to write an essay about a location that I considered "sacred" for a geography class. In this context, sacred doesn't necessarily mean religious (although in many cases it can). It refers to a place that has great value and meaning attached to it by an individual or group. Naturally, I chose to write about the Joe. It might be a little wordy and boring, but it was written for a class and I didn't feel like cutting or editing it just to post it here. It's not particularly interesting, but I felt like a slacker after going a whole week without posting anything. I also needed an excuse to point out the new banner that Sara made for me. I've been wanting a new banner for a while, and even have one drawn out in my head, but I haven't had time to make it yet. I think I'll stick with this one for a while.

I have many places in my life that I consider to be sacred. These places include my home, places on campus, National Parks that instilled me with a sense of peace, places that bring back fond memories, and even amusement parks. However, the place that I have always revered more than anywhere else is Joe Louis Arena in Detroit. The home of my beloved Detroit Red Wings, it has always had an aura of magic surrounding it in my mind. Dating back to my childhood, “The Joe,” as Red Wings fans call it, has been a place that I have dreamed about and idolized.

Joe Louis Arena was completed in 1979 and is owned by the City of Detroit. It is most likely in its final years as home to the Red Wings, and its fate is a controversial topic among local residents. The Arena is currently one of the oldest buildings still serving as homes to NHL teams. It has long been outdated, and it is clear to visitors that it lacks the amenities of more modern sports arenas. The food services often cannot handle the amount of customers that flock to them during intermissions, and it is a common occurrence for ticket-holders to miss the beginnings of the second or third periods because the bathroom lines that spring up during intermission are too long. Those who are able to afford luxury suites find themselves situated in the rafters with views that make the action on the ice seem like it is a mile away. The Arena is located on Detroit’s riverfront, but was positioned in such a manner that it is extremely difficult to access by vehicle. Visiting the box office is often a navigational adventure. It is wedged in between the Detroit River, Cobo Hall Convention Center (home of our Auto Show), and a freeway. As such, there are no local eateries or bars to cater to pre- and post-game crowds. Finally, the Arena’s iconic entrances feature long, steep flights of narrow stairs that are difficult to climb for even the most sure-footed fans. Combined with the ice and snow that frequently accompany hockey season in Michigan, those stairs are quite a safety hazard.

With all of these flaws and shortcomings, people often wonder why I have such a strong attachment to The Joe. There are few things that I have loved more than the Red Wings in my life, and The Joe has always been a symbol of the team in my mind. When I was growing up, my family could not afford to attend many hockey games. Because they were so few and far between, each visit to The Joe seemed like an adventure. I would look forward to going for weeks in advance. My excitement would build as we drove down to the Riverfront. By the time we reached the top of the spiral ramp to park on the roof of Cobo Hall, I would be ecstatic. The steep stairs at the entrances to the Arena were not a problem for me as I would run to the top and eagerly wait for my family to catch up to me.

Walking through the doors into The Joe feels like stepping into a wonderland. The concourse is always packed with thousands of people wearing red and white jerseys. Cases of memorabilia and photos from the team’s history line the walls and pillars in the concourse. The most magical moment, though, was stepping through the curtains into the heart of the arena. To this day, the first glimpse of the ice surface leaves me in awe. It always seemed so small and far away when I watched games on television, but seeing it in person made it seem larger than life. Gazing up at the rafters is equally impressive; they are draped with dozens of red and white banners commemorating Division, Conference, and Stanley Cup Championships, and retired numbers like Steve Yzerman’s 19 and Gordie Howe’s 9 over the years. No trip to The Joe would be complete without a visit to ice level to watch the team warm up. Watching the game played from that vantage point really gives the viewer a good perspective on the speed of the game. I love to stand against the glass directly behind the goal while the team circles and fires pucks at the net. Seeing the pucks whiz by and smack the glass right in front of my face makes it impossible not to appreciate the skill and strength of the players and goalies.

One of my favorite aspects of visiting The Joe is being able to see plays develop on the whole ice surface. Hockey is a sport that does not always translate well to television. The game is played at such a fast pace that camera operators sometimes have a difficult time keeping up with the players or the puck. Watching the game live at the arena eliminates all of those problems. You are also treated to the unique sounds of a hockey game. The smack of the puck hitting the goalies’ pads, the rattle of the boards after a hard check, and the crisp sound of a tape-to-tape pass all have a sense of beauty to a die hard hockey fan like myself. Being able to experience these things in person is one of my favorite aspects of visiting The Joe. I do not believe that one can truly capture the essence of hockey on television, and the only way to really connect with the game is to experience it live.

The Joe also holds numerous fond memories for me. I can close my eyes and remember sitting in the lower bowl the night that Steve Yzerman, my favorite player of all time, scored his six-hundredth career goal. The entire arena stood and clapped for what seemed like ten minutes when his milestone was announced. A few months ago, I had the opportunity to meet Yzerman in one of the suites at the Arena, and I can remember that moment like it was yesterday. In recent years, I have been able to attend more games with both friends and family. I also got the opportunity to tour the Red Wings’ locker room with my little sister during a summer event recently. We went to a game together this season as well, and I enjoyed sharing the sport that I love so much with her at The Joe.

The Arena also has an atmosphere that is unmatched. I love the camaraderie that exists between total strangers during games. I attended a playoff game last season, and I have never heard a building as loud and enthusiastic as The Joe was that night. The game went to overtime, and the Wings eventually won on an odd-man rush. The fans rose to their feet like a wave as the players sped down the ice toward the opposing goal. It was as if the people in the seats could sense what was about to happen. When the puck finally entered the net, the arena was filled with absolute jubilation. We were jumping up and down, high-fiving everyone in sight, posing for pictures with strangers, and screaming at the top of our lungs. It seemed like everything was right in the world in those moments after the game. I had another similar experience the year before, when I went to The Joe to watch a game in the Stanley Cup Finals. It was a road game, but they sold tickets for a charity fundraiser to watch the game on the scoreboard in the arena. At the end of the game, when the Wings had finally won, confetti fell from the rafters as it would have if the team had been there on the ice. The building was less than half full, but the crowd that was there that night more than made up for it. After we left The Joe, my friend and I found ourselves running through downtown Detroit in the rain, wearing our brand new Stanley Cup Champions t-shirts, and high-fiving strangers, with confetti still falling out of our hair. I will never forget that night as long as I live.

I have never been to another place that has inspired such a range of emotions and fond memories. For as long as I can remember, Joe Louis Arena has been a place that I have held sacred. From the time that I was a child, I would dream about getting to go see a Red Wings game in person. Over time, those rare visits with my parents have given way to more frequent trips with my friends. For all of its flaws and shortcomings, I truly love Joe Louis Arena, and I am enjoying getting to experience its atmosphere more regularly during the twilight of its time as home of the Detroit Red Wings.

Nothing Lost...

Earlier this year, I referred to this as “The Lost Season.” I was wrong. We’re not celebrating another Stanley Cup in Hart Plaza, so you could call this season a failure, but we gained much, much more than we lost. In this season of stress and anxiety and agony, a great big community came together like never before. We’ve made a family that I never would have thought possible. Looking at all of the things gained, it’s hard to use the word “lost” in association with this season.

Sure, the trip to Sweden was a bust.
Sure, the first half of the season was a disaster.
Sure, it seemed like this team was being held together with bubblegum and paperclips for the better part of the year.
Sure, most of us were bald by Christmas from pulling out our hair.
Sure, we got called conspiracy theorists and the Tin Foil Hat Brigade by national media and bloggers.
Sure, we saw some of the most absurd calls and non-calls in recent memory go against the Wings.
Sure, the playoffs didn’t end the way we wanted them to, and today’s a day of mourning in Red Wings nation.

But…
We still brought Herm to Hockeytown.
We still raised over $5,000 for Children’s Hospital.
We still started The Obstructed View, which has been one of the more fun projects I’ve been a part of.
We still created a #redwingscommune and an entire lexicon of “communisms:” DrunkLebda, SoberLebda, donut goalies, RAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHH, DinosaurLebda, PirateLebda, and Homerbait, just to name a few.
We still organized a flash mob to dance outside of the Joe wearing tin foil hats, and even ended up getting the mob’s headwear of choice banned from the arena.
We still turned a bunch of fake internet friends into a community of real life friends.
We still had a support group to hug and cry with at the Post last night, and there is no group of people I would rather have been with in that moment.
I still got to see and do some amazingly awesome things with some equally awesome people.
And maybe, just maybe, we learned to appreciate how blessed we’ve been here in Hockeytown for the last nineteen years.

I’m a Red Wings fan today, and I’ll be one tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. I’ll be a Red Wings fan in June when we watch another team take home our Cup, and I’ll be a Red Wings fan in July when I’m desperately trolling the internet for a shred of hockey news. I’ll be a Red Wings fan in August when I’m bored out of my mind, and I’ll be a Red Wings fan in September when I’m anxiously gearing up for the season. And I will most definitely be a Red Wings fan in October when the season starts up again. And yeah, you’d better believe I’m proud.

Pre-Game Mantra...

Our father who art in the Joe, hockey be thy name. Thy will be done, the cup will be won, on ice, as well as in the stands. Give us this day our hockey sticks, and forgive us our penalties, as we forgive those who cross-check against us. Lead us not into elimination, but deliver us to victory. In the name of the fans, Lord Stanley, and in the name of the Wings. Amen. GO WINGS!!!

(Posted on my facebook wall by a friend who got it from a relative who got it from someone else.)

The Tin Foil Diaries...

We pulled off the #tinfoilflashmob last night with mixed success. I like to think that we amused some people, but I imagine we scared away just as many. Most people seemed to have a good time with it. This is the gallery of pictures from the hat-distribution phase/insanity packed bus ride over from Hockeytown, and here are some links to Freep and News pictures of our little group. This is the official video (graciously recorded by Rob):



I was supposed to make a bunch of hats the night before, but ran into real life obligations and was unable to do so. Instead, I headed down to Detroit right after work and set up shop in the Public Library. I never realized just how loud tin foil is until I tried to work with it in a library. After two hats, I couldn’t deal with being that obnoxiously loud and packed up. I headed across the street to Wayne State’s campus, and set up shop on a bench by a fountain. There, I proceeded to fold two economy-sized rolls of tin foil into hats to hand out at the event. While doing so, I was pondering at what point my life had taken the turn that led me to be making tin foil hats out in public in preparation to storm the steps of JLA and dance like a fool. Was it that fateful moment when I started SSDD? Or have I been heading down this path since that night in ’95 when my dad made me watch my first hockey game?

We gathered in front of the box office and began passing out homemade tin foil hats to passersby in order to recruit them to our little conspiracy theorist brigade. Malik came up with the awesome slogan, “Question authority!” We also discovered that people will take just about anything if you tell them it’s free. Seriously, yell, “FREEEEEE ___________________,” and people will stop and listen, even if it’s just a folded piece of tin foil.

At 6:45, Sara headed up to one of the landings on the famous Gordie Howe steps, and began calling the masses with a LGRW chant. We ran up the stairs one person at a time, until I arrived with the boom box. This was our first semi-fail of the event, as it would not start playing. Talk about an awkward moment…

Eventually, we got the boom box going and started doing our awkwardly cramped version of the Hustle on the landing. Do NOT try this at home, kids. We’re professional crazies. Seriously though, there were a couple of us who almost met our demise toppling backward down those deathtrap stairs. The song seemed to last forever, especially since I generally refuse to dance in public. We were completely disorganized and out of sync (you try adding an extra beat to the Hustle), but we had a blast.

Unfortunately, building security felt that the tin foil hats could be balled up and thrown on the ice (as opposed to everything else that could be carried into the arena?), and we were informed that people were being asked to throw their hats away before they took them inside. We were disappointed, but not enough to ruin our fun. Some of the hats did manage to find their way into the arena though, as the big screen showed fans in tin foil several times throughout the night. Sara, TPL Mom, and I even made it up there (with Bobble Rig):


We’ve been mocked by fans of other teams, and even called out by an SI writer, but these folks clearly missed the point of our little rally. None of us actually believe there’s an NHL conspiracy out to get us. Everybody knows that the NHL isn’t even remotely competent enough to pull something that epic off. We were there to have a little fun at our own expense. If you can’t laugh at yourself, what do you have left in life? We’ve embraced the notion of being the Tin Foil Hat Brigade over the course of this season (see: H2H), and wanted to do something ridiculous and random for laughs. Just wait until next time when we have more time to plan.

Tin Foil Flash Mob...

For those of you who haven’t heard (and seriously, it’s nice of you to venture out from under your rock now and then), we’re organizing a flash mob to dance the hustle to The Hockey Song outside the Joe this evening. I know it’s short notice by now, but I haven’t had internet access all day. We’re gathering at the Gordie Howe entrance at 6:45 and there will be more than enough tin foil hats to go around. For more information and up to the minute updates, follow Sara, Sara, or me on Twitter. Don’t listen to the haters who are utterly lacking a sense of humor. This is all in good fun. People should really learn to laugh at themselves. The world would be a much better place if everybody just lightened up for a minute or two. After the game, we’re going to be heading out with the #redwingscommune to watch the game downtown, so there’s no need to have tickets to the game. Anyway, please do join us. We’re going to look ridiculous otherwise…

Red Wings vs. Sharks Game Three GP...

12. STAY OUT OF THE BOX!!! Even if it means playing no-contact girly hockey.
11. The Wings need to start better. The beginning of Game Two was a disaster wrapped in a blanket of nightmares.
10. I want to see more production from the second line. If I’m not mistaken, the Zetterberg unit hasn’t tallied a point yet this series.
9. Somebody needs to shut down Pavelski. He’s scored half of San Jose’s goals so far this series.
8. On the off chance that the Wings get any powerplays, they need to make them count. Special teams have been make or break all playoffs.
7. San Jose has had too much success at getting traffic to the front of the net. The Wings need to adjust their game and keep them to the perimeter.
6. Home sweet home: They’re back at the Joe where the Hockeytown faithful will be out en masse. Take advantage of the love from the crowd.
5. What ridiculousness will have you reaching for your tin foil hat tonight?
4. Would it kill somebody to win a faceoff here and there?
3. The Wings haven’t done a particularly good job entering the Sharks’ zone. They’re losing too many rushes at the blue line.
2. Jason Williams (Who?) is in the lineup again in place of Patrick Eaves. What are the chances that he does something useful this time around?
1. The Wings have made a habit of playing best when their backs are against the wall. I know they’re not facing elimination tonight, but they absolutely can’t afford to go down by three games. They can still pull this out if they play like the Wings team we saw in Game Seven. Make it happen, boys.

Confessions of a Red Wings Fan...

The Wings’ current injury situation has become downright farcical. In light of the epidemic, I can only assume that we, the citizens of Hockeytown, have done some things to offend the Hockey Gods. Somebody out there spent the summer punching babies and it’s about time we got to the bottom of that. We need to take this opportunity to confess our sins so that we can atone for them and return to those days of sunshine and joy when the Hockey Gods smiled fondly down upon us from the rafters of the Joe. I'm coming clean about some things I've done that may have invoked their ire, and I'm joined by some other Wings fans in the hopes that we can appease the Hockey Gods.

Now I know the last couple of games since I started working on this post have been alright and the Wings seem to have escaped injury, but there have still been a couple of close calls (Rafalski and Helm took pucks to the face and Lebda looked like he might've been hurt for a while.) and I'm not willing to take any more chances.

So here goes nothing:

I, Kris, tormented my puppy during the playoffs by doing things like strapping a stuffed Al the Octopus onto her back (Look how defeated she looks here...poor Penny Lane.), putting red and white pompoms in her collar, dressing her up in a Shanny baseball-style jersey, and trying to train her to bark when the Wings scored. I may also at one point taken away all of her toys except her squeaky penguin chew toy so that she would be forced to gnaw on that one during the Finals. There was literally nobody happier to see the playoffs end than my dog.

I also admit to making fun of Valtteri Filppula’s hair. All the time. I’m truly sorry.

Over the summer, I clicked on a shortened link on Twitter and accidentally ended up on a puck bunny website. I sincerely apologize for this horrendous mistake and promise that it will never happen again.

At Hockeyfest, we sat on the bench and jumped over the boards like we were doing a line change. I’m pretty sure that this upset the natural order of things and was simply unacceptable. The fact that my sister can’t even skate and was pretending to take a shift at the Joe had to be deeply upsetting to the Hockey Gods. I’m so sorry for encouraging this type of behavior.

@RedWingsQueen19 chimed in with this confession:

I confess that I had so much hate towards Todd Bertuzzi and wished he was never aquired. I regret it, he proved me wrong so far

@jennbikegirl admitted to wishing injury on Brett Lebda:

My confession: when I heard about Raffy's back, my 1st thought was, why not Lebda? Basically wishing injury on him = bad!

Michael Petrella from The Production Line, however, had the most significant confessions to make. I think after reading his first story, all of the “intent to blow” nonsense will make sense:

I played hockey for a long time: I started skating as soon as I could stand up, and played competitive hockey all the way through college. I like to think of myself as a good sportsman, albeit one with a filthy mouth that never stopped running. Two stories stand out as examples of things I may have done to anger the Hockey Gods -- perhaps bad enough to create this rash of injuries to the team I love so dearly.

During a game I was playing in high school, I ended up on my butt, right along the goal line as a goal was scored against my team. It was so obviously a goal, and I figured everyone knew, that I reached in with my hand and angrily threw the puck back toward center ice in anticipation of another faceoff. But, it was must have been LaRue officiating because the ref skated over, waving emphatically "NO GOAL! NO GOAL! NO GOAL!" In my head, I'm thinking "really?" because I threw the puck only after I figured it was so apparent that everyone in the building saw it. Evidently, only I had seen it, and I didn't say a word. What I did amounts to no less than cheating, and I'm sure the Gods have had it in for me ever since. (P.S. the goal wouldn't have mattered as we lost by a good margin anyway...)

While in college, I was much more of a role-player, in the Kirk Maltby-mold, so I didn't get a ton of ice-time at that level, but cherished the few minutes I received every night. During the last weekend of the season (of my Junior year), we were playing in Wisconsin. We played back-to-back games on Friday and Saturday nights, as is pretty common in collegiate hockey. On Friday night, a senior who had played his heart out for our team for four years was injured by a fairly dirty hit. The kid got two minutes, but with a pretty severe knee injury, my teammate was going to miss his final game of collegiate hockey. I'll never forget his face - he was so upset because he never missed a team function, and now he was going to have to watch the last game of his college career from the press box. The following night, I spent every second of my ice-time aimed at retribution. I was offside more in that game than the rest of my collegiate career combined, because I didn't pay attention to the puck, only #21 in black. At one point, I even broke a stick on the back of his knee. As the final horn went, I took another three or four steps and tried my best to put him through the glass. He was about eight inches taller than me, so I ended up on the ice. I'll never forget what happened next because, even though these two stories aren't indicative of the kind of player I was or man I am, it taught me an important lesson. He took off his glove, and extending his hand to me, helping me back up. He said to me, "I know what you were trying to do, and I would have done the same. You played me hard, good game." Even though my teammate was the one on crutches, I couldn't have felt any worse.

I played hockey at some level for nearly twenty years, and it's fair to say that these two examples are the only ones I'm not proud of. And I'm just superstitious enough to think that the Hockey Gods noticed...

So there you have it, Hockey Gods. We’re all very sorry for the many things that we have done to offend you. We take full responsibility for our actions and hope that you can forgive us. Now can we please get back to our regularly scheduled programming of dominating performances and an elite roster? And, if it’s not too much trouble, could you throw some puck luck our way? We sure could use it.

Sincerely,
Hockeytown

November Memoir...

It's All About the Stars

November started on a high note. After a strong couple of games to end October, we all thought the Wings had turned things around. They continued to pick up wins for the first couple of weeks in November. All was right with the world. Our Wings were back and life was good. The skies were filled with snowflakes and rainbows and it even seemed like the stench of sewer no longer hovered around the Joe’s box office. And then…the bottom fell out. The team looked horrible. They were flirting with a record-setting scoring drought perfectly timed to ruin Thanksgiving for legions of Wings fans. On the bright side, they managed to pull things back together during their last two games of the month. I would argue that the hot and cold streaks from the top offensive guys and the two games against Dallas this month were the events that defined November.

The highlight of November was the three-game stretch in which the Wings netted a total of 19 goals. 19 goals in three games. I know. I feel like those happy days were ages ago too. For the first time, the ’09-’10 season seemed fun. I was starting to recognize the guys who were skating around with Winged Wheels on their chests as the real Red Wings. The stars had found their scoring touches. Zetterberg and Datsyuk went on a tear that to the surprise of exactly no one led the team to their best stretch of the season. The Wings were finally stringing wins together, and even though some of their wins came after less-than-100% efforts, I was happy. I was even making jokes about laughing over the Great October Panic of 2009.

And then came Dennis La Rue and his intent to blow. Now we all know what happened in that game against Dallas on the 18th. And you can also be sure that this next paragraph is going to bring out trolls with their accusations of whininess and tin foil hat-wearing. But I’m willing to make the argument that that one single moment in which every standard of reason was violated contributed to the Wings subsequent tailspin. Yes, you can argue that the Stars ended up scoring another goal after the one that should have counted. You can also argue that the Wings hadn’t been playing spectacularly well at the start of that game. However, that was their tying goal; it should’ve been a momentum swing. The kind of moment you build off of. Instead, the Wings came out afterward looking defeated. @MrsOtW pointed out on Twitter that perhaps they were thinking that it wasn’t worth the effort if they were just going to get screwed anyway. I don’t know if that’s the case or not, but while it’s a perfectly legitimate feeling, I’m not sure I like seeing it manifested out on the ice.

And lack of effort was exactly what we saw. The next few games were almost hard to watch. Five goals (that counted…) in eight games? The skid culminated with back-to-back shutouts at the Joe to sandwich Thanksgiving. Suddenly we were all in the depths of despair again. Watching the Wings flounder was painful. Nothing went right. More goals were called back for inexplicable reasons. Niklas Kronwall went down with a long-term injury. The Eurotwins cooled off again. Again, unsurprisingly, when the stars cooled off, so did the rest of the team. By the end of their losing/shutout streak, the team found itself in danger of being passed by the Blues and occupying last place in the Central. They went into St. Louis the night after their second consecutive shutout and played a miserable first period. They managed to pull out a win in the shootout thanks to the handiwork of the unlikeliest of shooters and we all felt a sense of relief. But that win would’ve been meaningless if it hadn’t been followed up by another.

It’ll be impossible to tell until we see a few more games from the boys, but if they really turn things around, I think we’ll be looking at the second November Dallas game as the real turning point. It was the kind of performance that I’m accustomed to seeing the Wings deliver when I make the trek down to the Joe. it had all of the elements of a classic Wings win: the defense was solid, the goaltending adequate despite a few shaky moments, the secondary scoring was there, the goals came from hard work and net-front traffic, the big names picked up assists. They returned to the Joe where they had failed to light the lamp for an absurdly long amount of time, took a lead, and never really let the Stars back into the game. Sure they tied it up at one point, but you kind of had a sense that it was the Wings’ night. It’s too early to tell if the win actually means something in the long-run or if I’m just reading things into it to make myself feel better, but I have high hopes that this will carry over into December.

November had a lot of high points and a lot of miserably low ones. We saw the flashes of brilliance that we continue to expect from this injury-depleted team, but we also wallowed through a scoring drought the likes of which I’ve not seen in my time as a fan. We saw the top lines rack up goals at an extraordinary rate for a few games and then pounded our heads against the closest hard objects when those same stars seemingly lost their ability to finish. There were infuriating moments both from incompetent officials and lack of effort from the team. That game against Dallas toward the middle of the month was undoubtedly a turning point, and with any luck that same team’s next visit to the Joe will be looked back upon as an even more significant one. It really was a tale of the stars and the Stars.

Wings vs. Canucks GP...

Wings vs. Canucks @7:30 PM

1. Roberto Luongo came back from his injury/sickness/whatever else was ailing him during Vancouver’s loss the other day. He entered the game after Andrew Raycroft gave up 4 goals on 13 shots. So far this season, he hasn’t lived up to the lofty expectations that folks have for him (I know this because he’s on both of my fantasy teams), which naturally means that he’s probably going to choose tonight to find his game. Will the Wings manage to take advantage of the fact that he’s a little rusty, or make him look good by doing their little perimeter-shots-no-traffic-to-the-net thing that they’re apparently so fond of?
2. Daniel Sedin is still out with his broken foot. What creative way will FSN find to work the fact that the Sedin twins hold their sticks differently when they’re sitting on the bench into the broadcast?
3. The Wings haven’t played on back-to-back nights since the opening series in Sweden. How will they respond to the short turnaround?
4. Are we going to see the newly acquired Drew Miller tonight?
5. It’s Steve Yzerman night at the Joe today. I would imagine that that means there will be some sort of ceremony before the game. Will the team find a way to redeem itself for the embarrassment of Saturday’s Hall of Fame game in Toronto?
6. After a 9-goal outburst last night, will the Wings have any left for the Canucks?

Wings 9, Blue Jackets 1: Post Game Snipes...

• Well I think it’s safe to say that the Wings showed up for this one. The first period was the best period of hockey I’ve seen the Wings play all year. And then they followed it up with a solid second and third. Granted, Columbus didn’t put up much of a fight, but the Wings controlled play and looked absolutely dominant. They came out and set the tone early and never let up.
• One of the strangest aspects of the game was that the Wings’ first 6 goals were scored by 6 different players. Each one of them tallied his third goal of the season. Then Abdelkader scored two goals in the third for, you guessed it, his second and third goals of the season. All in all seven different Wings scored tonight, and each one of them notched his 3rd of the season. It was one of the flukiest things that I’ve seen in a while. With any luck, it’s a sign of good things to come for them and hopefully some of the scores have woken up.
• Speaking of waking up, Dan Cleary finally got his 100th goal on Saturday, and his goal tonight marked the second game in a row in which he’s scored. I’m quite happy that I stuck with him on my fantasy team.
• Early in the first, Datsyuk wound up for a shot and it hit a Blue Jacket right in the back of the head, knocking his helmet off, as he went down to block the shot. Pav hovered nearby while he was down on the ice, making sure he was okay. Classy guy.
• Classiness aside, Dangle Dangle was absolutely on fire tonight. It felt like he was everywhere. I can’t believe he only had 13:29 of ice time tonight.
• Eaves looked good in his return to the lineup. I absolutely love the third line right now.
• Leino also had a much better game. He scored a goal (his third of the season, of course) and had a couple of very good chances.
• Oh gosh I hope they’ve saved some goals for the Captain’s night at the Joe tomorrow.
• During the first intermission, John Keating was interviewing Dan Cleary and he pointed out that 14 of Cleary’s career goals have come against the BJs. Cleary responded, “Thank god they’re in our division.”
• At one point during the second period, Todd Bertuzzi found himself open in front of the crease with time to take two or three whacks at the puck while Steve Mason had his back to him. He didn’t score. I still don’t know how. He did manage to redeem himself with a goal (his third of the season, of course) shortly after though.
• Jimmy Howard made some pretty nice saves throughout the course of the night. The BJs ended up getting credited with 26 shots, but it certainly didn’t feel like they had that many.
  

Cookies and Cupcakes for everyone.
These are the Wings that I’ve been looking for all season. The forecheck was strong, the puck was handled responsibly in their own zone, the special teams looked good, and I had a smile on my face the whole time.

An Extra Stick Tap for Pavel Datsyuk
He was far and away the best player on the ice tonight. And that’s saying something for a team that scored nine goals. Keep it up, please.

Todd Bertuzzi gets the Golden Facepalm
But only because I made an executive decision that this must be awarded to a Wing every game. This is for that glorious opportunity he had when Mason’s back was turned that he failed to bury.

What I learned:
That watching the 2009-2010 Wings can, in fact, be enjoyable.

It's Time to Celebrate the Stevie...

(No snark today. This post is all heart.)

Well, this day has been inevitable for quite some time now. Tonight the greatest Captain in all of sports officially takes his place amongst the hockey royalty in the Hall of Fame. The three years since his retirement have really just been a countdown to today.

I can’t believe it’s been three years since he hung up his skates for good. There’s still a little part of me that expects to see him out there taking a key defensive zone faceoff late in a game. Can you honestly say that you don’t briefly see Yzerman every time a Wing uses his stick to prop himself up as he gets to his feet? Or whenever you catch a glimpse of the C on Nick Lidstrom’s sweater? I was born in 1986 not long before the NHL season started that year. When Stevie retired, I had literally never seen another player wear the C for the Wings. I honestly worried that I wouldn’t feel the same about the game after he retired. My hockey fandom was incredibly tied up in my love for the Captain, and on top of that, I was living in Florida at the time, completely cut off from the hockey world (my access to games was limited and I pretty much cut myself off from it in order to stay sane.). I wondered if I would feel the same way I had before when I came back to Michigan. Obviously, it wasn’t an issue since I’m here writing this blog. But that’s how much Steve Yzerman meant to me as a fan of this hockey team. In my mind, he wasn’t just The Captain, he was the Red Wings.

When I first got into the game, I was drawn to the speed and flashy moves of Sergei Fedorov. I quickly came to realize, though, that Steve Yzerman was more my style. His public approach to the game was very similar to the way I approach my life. And I don’t think I’m alone. He’s the kind of guy we can identify with here in Detroit. We aren’t flashy. We don’t seek the spotlight. We’ve had our share of disappointments and setbacks, but we haven’t given up. We may never be the biggest city or the most respected or the richest or a popular destination, but that’s not going to stop us from trying. And here we are hobbling along with the auto industry barely staying afloat and hearing about a friend or neighbor or family member who lost their job on a daily basis, surviving by determination and heart alone. So it’s no wonder this area fell head over heels for Steve Yzerman.

I can’t think of another leader whose personality came to embody a team in the way that The Captain’s did. This is even more amazing because of how understated Stevie’s public persona was. Even with the veritable all-star team that the Wings fielded in ’02, there was never any question that he was the guy. And that year, when expectations were higher than ever, he led the way. On one leg.

As the latest round of career eulogies goes out to mark this occasion, there is a lot of focus on the ’02 Cup run as the epitome of Stevie’s career. It surely was a highlight, but in my mind there are other ways to define him. I think of him being the guy sent in to win an important faceoff late in a game. I think of sitting on my family room couch as my Dad, just a few months old when the team won the 1955 Cup, tried to hide his tears as The Captain hoisted Stanley for the first time in ’97. I think of him coming back from a ridiculous knee surgery because he still had something left in the tank. I think of standing in the lower bowl of Joe Louis Arena in my bright red #19 jersey clapping until my hands were red the night he scored his 600th goal. I think of the way a picture of him hoisting the Cup can still bring grown men in this city to tears. I think of seeing him play an exhibition game at Yost during the lockout and sticking around to sign autographs for all of the junior players and some of the NHLers too. I think of sitting in the upper bowl in December of 2005, knowing that I was moving to Florida and that he would probably be retiring soon, watching every shift he took and wondering if it would be the last time I saw him set foot on the ice in person. I think of standing on a concrete barrier, craning my neck to catch a glimpse of him during the ’02 parade. I think about trying to explain to my roommate why I felt the need to watch the replay of his jersey retirement ceremony that they showed last month even though I had a mountain of homework, and only being able to point to my misty eyes because I couldn't find words. I think of the way he almost shies away from all of the praise and attention that continues to come his way. I think of the love that transcends the traditional fan/player relationship that the people in Detroit have for him.

Steve Yzerman is and always will be my favorite player of all time. And I couldn’t be happier to see him entering the Hall of Fame tonight. I was lucky to grow up watching Stevie here in Hockeytown, and his is the standard by which I will measure every other player who dons the Winged Wheel. The odds of anyone living up to them are pretty slim.

Preachy Merchandise Rant...

Inspired by Puck Daddy’s recent post about sexism in sports attire, I decided to go on my own little rant (no really, I’m not kidding, I’m going to rant). I spend a pretty large amount of my time supporting the three sports teams that are near and dear to my heart. I don’t think that it’s too much to ask to have some quality merchandise available in women’s sizes. I understand that the majority of sports fans are male, and as a result they account for a larger percentage of merchandise sales, but there is a large and growing female fanbase out there. And those of us who are real fans, not just annoyed girlfriends who got dragged along to the game, have been largely ignored. This problem isn’t limited to the NHL either. The story is the same for MLB and college sports (I’m going to assume this also applies to the NBA and NFL, but I’ve never so much as looked at any of their merchandise so I can’t say for sure).

The things that make me the most irrationally angry are the pink jerseys.These are travesties. What’s the point of shelling out all that money on a jersey if you’re not even going to wear your team’s colors? I wouldn’t be caught dead inside Joe Louis Arena wearing anything other than red and white. I’m also a frequent visitor to Hockeytown Authentics (I won’t call it whatever they renamed it). And every time I stop in, I seem to leave feeling cranky. You’d think that spending time surrounded by the logos of my two favorite sports teams would leave me feeling happy, but instead I always leave irritated. As if the pink jerseys aren’t insulting enough, a large portion of the women’s t-shirts are pink. Some of them are inexplicably purple. Why? On top of that, most of them are glittery and have cutesy swirly fonts. Also, somewhere along the line, someone decided that it was a good idea to bedazzle women’s sports merchandise. Again, why? It shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone that I’m kind of a tomboy, and I find it insulting that merchandising folks think that the only way to get my dollars is to provide me with suitably girly shirts. I’m still awaiting the time I walk into the store to find a baby pink Hockeytown Princess shirt that features a Wings logo with a bedazzled crown.

On the rare occasions that I find something in the women’s department that I like enough to purchase, I get even more irritated because it’s more expensive than comparable men’s products. (And don’t say it’s because of the bedazzling. They can jack up the prices on that crap all they want. I stick to normal t-shirts.) Case in point: I’ve been coveting a Zetterberg name/number t-shirt for ages. I’ve got an older Datsyuk shirt (baggy men’s size, of course) and I feel the need to complete my Eurotwin set. I haven’t bought one yet because I tend not to wear my giant t-shirts on days when I plan on leaving the house and I figured it’d be a waste of money. Imagine my delight when I was informed that they did in fact make women’s sizes of the name shirts. Unfortunately, they can only be purchased online. Where I can’t try them on. And I have to pay for shipping. Also, they’re more expensive than the same exact shirt in men’s sizes on the NHL’s website. And I can guarantee you that less material is used to make a women’s medium than a men’s medium. So what gives? Nothing, except for the fact that folks know that they can get away with it because there’s a much smaller selection of women’s merchandise out there to choose from. Those of us ladies out there who are serious fans will pay the extra three or four bucks because there isn’t any other choice. There’s nowhere to shop around and we’re a captive market. It’s simple economics. And it’s certainly unfair.

So what can be done to make me happy? It’s simple. Stop treating me like a cutesy little girly girl. I don’t need anything frilly. I don’t need my shirts bedazzled or covered with glitter. And I most definitely don’t want anything in any color not found in my team’s logo. All I’m looking for t-shirt or two with that Winged Wheel I love so much on it that won’t make me look frumpy. I like to think that the male puckheds out there could get behind that notion too, if you know what I mean. As far as jerseys are concerned, they can do whatever they want with those. I’ve got my Stevie Y, so I’m set for life, thanks.

/end rant

It’s the middle of the night and I’m pretty cranky right now. I spent the afternoon talking hockey with some folks from school, and I think we just dragged each other into greater distress. I’m going to use that as my excuse for whatever I’ve just written above. I’m sure I got up on my soapbox a little bit, but it really does bother me.

Hockey Makes You Smarter...

It’s recently occurred to me that thanks to my lifelong addiction to hockey, my head is now filled with an insane amount of random bits of trivia. I’m not just talking about player stats and team records. I mean actual, non-hockey related knowledge. For the most part, these little pieces of information are completely useless, but someday I’m going to win a game of Trivial Pursuit because of it, and then the joke will be on whoever I defeat. So now, because I can’t contain my excitement over the return of hockey, I bring you proof that hockey does indeed make you smarter:

• Thanks to the Wings’ trip to Sweden, I now know that ‘ljumsken’ means ‘groin’ in Swedish. I have no idea when in the future this will come in handy, but you had better believe that if I ever make it over to Sweden on vacation, I’ll find a way to work it into conversation.
• I can point out places like Sverdlovsk, Vasteras, Red Deer, Njurunda, Peterborough, and Cranbrook on the map. While this info may never help me pass a geography exam, I once saw an article that said that a significant number of Americans can’t even point out Germany on a map, so I think I’m ahead of the game.
• I also discovered that there is a city in Minnesota called Redwing. My little brother and I are going to take a roadtrip there some day, just so we can take pictures with the city welcome sign. Then we’d turn around and come back home. It would be well worth the drive.
• The Phoenix saga has taught me some of the intricacies of bankruptcy law. There’s been more legal mumbo jumbo bandied around hockey blogs in recent months than I ever expected to see. But you had better believe that the next time somebody brings up bankruptcy in conversation, I’ll be ready to jump right in. This hasn’t happened yet, but with the economy the way it is, it’s only a matter of time until it does.
• Due to the hours I’ve spent watching hockey broadcasts, I can pronounce just about any French, Russian, or Swedish name that you throw at me. Names that would trip up most Americans roll right off my tongue without a second thought. Watching hockey was like Hooked on Phonics for foreign names. I’m not even joking.
• Typing up my blog entries has caused my spellcheck to inform me that ‘deke’ is not a real word. It turns out that it’s a Canadianism that’s short for ‘decoy.’ This was kind of a shock to my system, as I’d always taken it for granted. I don’t know how to break the news to Gordon Bombay.
• My many pilgrimages to the Joe have caused me to learn to navigate downtown Detroit very well. This is quite possibly the only real-world applicable bit of knowledge in this entire post. Whenever I go down to the city with friends, I drive because I’m the only one who knows my way around. The confidence that comes from not being afraid of getting lost has led me to explore even further. And I’ve discovered some great things along the way. I love it when people from out of town look at me incredulously when I tell them that I frequent the city.
• Greenland is covered with ice, and Iceland is very nice. Okay, so that doesn’t come from watching real hockey, but that movie was very much intertwined with my childhood love of the sport. And no, I’m not going to say which movie that comes from. You should know that on your own if you’re a hockey fan worth your salt. If not, google it and feel ashamed.
• Brian Burke taught me a new word when he spoke about wanting truculence. I’m eagerly awaiting the day when I get to use it in a paper for class. I’m willing to use that desire to guide my topic choices if it comes to that.
• Stemming from one of the controversies of the summer of ’09 I now have a working knowledge of the vagaries of international flight law. It also turns out that cabotage is a term for the right to operate airlines within the domestic borders of another country and not, in fact, a way of tampering with cabbage. Who knew?
• Injury reports have given me a detailed knowledge of the human muscular system, joints, and basic surgical procedures usually only acquired by first year med students.
• One of the benefits of having the Wings in the Western Conference is that I can tell you in which time zone almost every major North American city is located. This comes in handy when you go on roadtrips out west and you don’t need to look up what time it’s going to be when you arrive at your next destination.
• My first introduction to the fact that the Cold War had existed was through listening to the stories of how the Russian players had defected. I was only three when the Berlin Wall fell and I came into my own as a Wings fan during the heyday of the Russian Five, so the thought of these guys having to sneak away from their homes and families to come play hockey in North America seemed bizarre to me. Yeah, that’s right. I, the ultimate history buff, got my first taste of world history from watching intermission interviews with hockey players. We all have to start somewhere, I guess.

As Boredom Creeps In...

I don’t normally like to do video-heavy posts, but I’m finally done with classes for the summer and I’m just happy to be able to catch up on all of the random hockey links I’ve been bookmarking for the last few weeks. And since there isn’t a whole lot else going on during these oh-so-boring summer days, this is all I have to go with. If I get any more bored, I’m liable to start making Top Ten lists, and nothing good can come of that.

First I’ll start off with the Wings playoff intro from this past season. Most of you have probably seen it by now, but it’s definitely worthy of repeated viewing. I missed most of it before the game I went to because I was too busy bawling due to finally making it to my first playoff game. I’m kidding. I wasn’t bawling. I actually was trying to take pictures of the pre-game show while climbing the upper bowl stairs backwards. The beginning of the video gave me chills though. Actually, it still does. Also, I’m kind of in love with that guy’s voice.



On a related note, I also love videos like this one with game clips in front of a voiceover quote from X-Men 3. Seriously, it’s perfect. When I saw it up on the big screen at the Joe, it blew my mind. Some may say that I’m easily impressed, but I have a thing for movie/TV quotes. I have no idea why.

And last but not least, here’s a link to the NHL’s top ten saves of the year. Number ten features our very own Chris Osgood. Make sure you watch all of the replays of the save so you can catch the Versus announcer dropping the word “fabulosity” at around the 40 second mark. (The other nine saves are nice too, but they really lost me at “fabulosity.”) While it’s not the Pavel Datsyuk call that originally introduced me to my new favorite word, it’ll have to do. Seriously, fabulosity is kind of my own version of truculence, except that it’s not a real word.

Nothing Good...

So it turns out that only mustering three shots on goal in the first period is not a good way to win the Stanley Cup. Who knew? Also, there's apparently something about Mellon Arena that's like Red Wing kryptonite. It looks like Drew Sharp got his wish

I'm back in that valley of despair that inevitably follows any playoff loss. This one just seems worse than usual. It's worse than Game 5 last year, worse than Game 6 of the Anaheim series, worse than when our hamster died. This is just my way of saying that this is going to be another post filled with excessively angry attacks on my boys. Also, I'm never, ever going back to the Hockeytown Cafe for a Finals game again. The Wings are 0-3 when I'm in attendance during the Finals, and I want no part of it.

The afternoon started out fairly well. We visited the Spirit of Detroit statue and met this guy:

We're pretty sure that wasn't water in his bottle there, but I liked his spirit. And he made us laugh. We were pretty sad when he skateboarded away down Jefferson leaving us alone with a homeless dude who wanted us to take his picture. Then we headed over to Hockeytown and almost didn't get in. They closed for capacity at 7. The evening was pretty much all downhill from that point. We should've taken it as an omen and headed over to Cheli's.

The Stanley Cup was in the building tonight. It was within their reach. And they didn't show up to take it. It was entirely up to them to decide whether they wanted it or not, but apparently they hadn't made up their minds yet.

The first few minutes seemed alright. There were good chances both ways, and neither team seemed to have momentum. Then Zetterberg got called for goalie interference. While the call wasn't as obnoxiously bad as the one against Hudler in Game 7 of the Anaheim series, it was clearly a joke. Although I have to say that the part where Z was literally swinging from the crossbar was fairly amusing.

The rest of the first period was not worth mentioning. I didn't see the play that resulted in Pittsburgh's powerplay, thanks to NBC not bothering to replay the incident, so I don't really have much insight on it. When the Wings killed it off, I started wondering if maybe it was another statement, like the kill at the beginning of Game 5. However, the Wings finished the first having been outshot 12-3. While that stat hides a few good chances that the Wings just sent wide or had blocked, it's still pathetic. They were extremely lucky to survive the first period tied at zero. You can only live dangerously like that for so long until it comes back to bite you.

It seems like whenever the Wings get the media behind them, where everyone's praising them and saying that their victory is inevitable, they play like crap. Maybe we should be glad that the media outside of Detroit seem to anticipate failure at every turn.

It was during a commercial break near the end of the first that I looked around at the crowd in the City Theater and realized that it felt a little bit like a support group. Like AA for Wings fans or something. It didn't do me a whole lot of good, but it felt nice.

After the Pens scored at the beginning of the second, I started mentally preparing myself for Game 7. I knew that things were far from over, but the Wings just didn't look good. They showed a little bit more spark in the second, but it wasn't enough. There were a few pretty obvious interference calls that could/should have been made against the Pens. Even the NBC guys were pointing them out, so you know they were flagrant. When the national guys are going against Crosby and his annointed buddies, it's pretty safe to assume that the refs are screwing things up. Considering how much success the powerplay had during Game 5, it would've been nice to have seen it get a chance to go to work before the third period.

The Wings looked pretty good at the start of the third, but it was too little too late. Giving up the second goal was a backbreaker. I had pretty much resigned myself to three days of agony at that point. Then Kris Draper scored and gave me hope. I have to say that the Hockeytown crowd was incredible from this point on. The City Theater went nuts, and the chants started right back up. The powerplays were insane. (Is it bad that I really, really wanted Drapes to be bleeding when he got high-sticked? The rational side of me says that there's something very wrong with hoping for a man who you adore to stand up with his face looking like a red fountain, but I was seriously calling on the Hockey Gods to cause his face to start gushing.) Everyone in the theater stood for the last two minutes of the game. I don't care that the Joe didn't sell out during the regular season. The crowds and fans during the playoffs have been fantastic.

During the first half of the game, the turnovers and lack of intensity that have plagued the Wings since October came back to bite them. I thought they had worked that out of their system after Game 5, but it turns out that I was sadly mistaken. They threw everything they had at the Pens during the third period, but it just wasn't enough to overcome the hole they had dug for themselves.

Datsyuk, Helm, and Zetterberg played like crazy men again. Zetterberg, in particular, was brilliant on that play where his stick broke and he smacked the puck out of the zone as he dove to the ice. It was a relatively minor play and could easily go unnoticed, but it's just another example of how hard the man's working to win the Stanley Cup. It looked like something right out of the Steve Yzerman playbook. It might sound trite, but I just don't see Sidney Crosby making that play. And everyone knows that but for Ozzie, this score wouldn't have been close. On the Pens' side, Rob Scuderi just earned his place on the list of hockey players who make me shudder. I was surrounded by 300 people jumping up and down and screaming the the last minute of the third. I was pretty sure that the floor was going to collapse, and it all would've been his fault.

The most frustrating part of the first half of the game was that I could see the Wings doing the exact same things they had been doing during Games 3 and 4. They were making pretty passes, but only taking perimeter shots. They were "one and done" as Mike Babcock likes to say, whereas Pittsburgh was consistently able to establish control in the zone and get several chances. The Wings weren't driving to the net until the third period. It's been proven over and over again: if you get traffic in front of MAF, you will have success. Plain and simple. Eventually, you're going to get a juicy rebound that even a toddler could smack into the net.

Also, during the second intermission, the NBC guy who was doing the "you be the coach" thing was way intense. It was like he was yelling at us through the screen. We felt like we should go sit in a corner after his little rant.

Now it's down to one game to decide who gets the Stanley Cup. It's winner-take-all, and I don't like it one bit. Over the next couple of days, I'm going to age approximately 37 years. I normally would have more to say, but everyone knows what Game 7 means. Also, I'm not in a very happy place right now, and I'm going to try to sleep tonight without having nightmares of Sidney Crosby hoisting the Cup.

We'll Know Soon Enough...

There isn't really much to say today. Everything meaningful's been covered by the players and other bloggers. I really have very little of consequence to add.

If you read nothing else today, read this. The Chief sums it up better than I ever could. And if the part about Dominik Hasek doesn't make you laugh, then you either have no sense of humor or you're a good-for-nothing bandwagon fan. Either way, please leave.

It sounds as though everyone on the Wings is good to go tonight. As important as it was to get Datsyuk back for Game 5, it means so much more heading into a road game. Even though he and Z are playing on the same line, his presence has a trickle down effect that makes every line combo better top to bottom. This is especially important with the Pens getting the last change. On a side note, I don't think I've ever heard so much about the importance of getting the last line change as I have in this series. Ditto on the JLA boards. Can we please find something else to talk about? Or just sit in pleasant silence and let the players do the talking?

The key to the game, other than the standard platitude about getting off to a good start is going to be special teams, special teams, special teams. Why? All you need to do is look at Games 4 and 5. If you can't figure it out, please join those who didn't laugh at the Chief's bit on Hasek and leave. One of the big moments in Game 5, although it flew under the radar what with the Wings' offensive show and Pittsburgh's penalty "troubles," was that first PK when Kronwall (once again) got whistled for an early penalty (seriously, he's turning into this year's Jiri Hudler). Naturally, I was terrified, sure that it spelled doom for my boys, but they put together a wonderful kill and kept the Pens off the board. Not long after that, Cleary put the Wings ahead for good. Those are the little things that win championships. The things that have been sadly missing for much of the season this year. If we're lucky, the boys will show up for Game 6 with the determination and drive that they need to win.

This is major gut-check time for Marian Hossa. He needs to come out and play like a man possessed. I can guarantee you that he doesn't want to spend the rest of his life second-guessing his decision to come to Detroit. Two assists in Game 5 were nice, but I want more. I want the boos to rain down on him as he holds his hands up in celebration. I want his name called over their PA system multiple times, again to a chorus of boos. But most of all, I want him holding a shiny silver trophy over his head at the end of the night as a deafening round of boos rain down again. And if he plays like he did in last year's finals, his chances are going to be a hole lot better.

My anxiety level is increasing exponentially as game time gets closer and closer. I'm heading down to Hockeytown to watch the game tonight, and all day I've been replaying memories of filing out of the City Theater in the middle of the night after Game 5 last year. It's silly, because I've been there a handful of times since, but it was a traumatic incident in my life and it's going to stay with me for a while.

Speaking of Game 5 last year, rumor has it that Petr Sykora might be suiting up for the Pens tonight. While we all still shudder at the mention of Maxime Talbot's name or the number 34.7, it's often overlooked that Sykora was the one who scored the OT goal. And not only that, but he called his shot to Pierre McGuire. This still makes me nauseous. I'm not saying that he's in for a repeat performance, but dragging myself through those memories is not something I need to be doing at this particular moment.

The bottom line is that if the Wings want it, it's theirs to take. If they show up and play their game to the best of their ability, there's not a team in the world who can stop them. On the other hand, if they play like they did in Games 3 and 4 (and, really, stretches of 1 and 2), then it's going to be ugly.

PS. Dear Hockey Gods,
I've already promised you my first-born child, so now I'm offering up the second-born. Screw it, take 'em all. I just want Stanley.