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
Showing posts with label Maxime Talbot. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Maxime Talbot. Show all posts
Friday, June 26, 2009
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Pain: Emotional and Physical...
This is something that I thought of at the beginning of the series, and I hoped upon hope that I wouldn't have to use. But here it is.
Regarding Marian Hossa:
Not only did he not come home with the Cup, but after his lackluster performance in the playoffs this year, his value as a free agent has to drop. Which sucks for him, because after last year he finally managed to shake the label of playoff-underachiever with his spectacular Finals, and now that label will probably follow him around for the rest of his career.
I actually took notes for a recap tonight. I don't think I want to put myself through that. Not that you want to read it either... So I'm just going to start typing, and see where it takes me.
This is all very disappointing. Pittsburgh already won the Super Bowl. I just thought it'd be nice for us Michiganians (I refuse to refer to myself as a Michigander. It sounds like a male goose.) to have something happy in our lives for a change.
It's possible that I will never forgive Brad Stuart. I realize that it's not all his fault, but I need a scapegoat right now, and he pretty much volunteered himself for that role.
And since his last-minute tying goal during Game 5 last year wasn't cruel enough, Max Talbot decided to play hero and score not one, but two goals tonight. So, good on him, I guess. That's the stuff that playoff legends are made of. I guess he got the childhood "pond hockey moment" he's been dreaming of his whole life.
All things considered, I'm handling things pretty well. I'm currently icing my foot down. It's possible that I sprained my toe while flailing around on the floor in front of my TV during the final minute. It probably wasn't my best moment, but things happen during the playoffs. I stayed to watch the Cup presentation, and I made it through most of the Pens' turns with it before I had to shut it off. (Random side note: Why did it take so long for it to get to Malkin? I'm just saying. It was weird, what with him being the MVP and all.) Then I took my dog for a long walk around the park. I realize that going for a walk alone in the middle of the night with only the world's most cowardly puppy to accompany you probably isn't the best thing for a female to do, but I needed to be alone and outdoors. And at that point, if someone wanted to stab me and hide my body in the bushes, well, I wouldn't have put up much of a fight anyway. It was only when I got home and took my shoes off that I realized I had done serious damage to my foot, and couldn't walk without shoes. So that was fun. Then I pulverized an entire package of Oreos with a meat tenderizer. This sounds irrationally aggressive, but I had reasons, and it would've happened win or lose. It's actually not a bad way to relieve stress. If you have some spare Oreos laying around, I recommend trying this.
My dog began the game gnawing on her squeaky penguin chew toy. I thought it might be a good omen. Even more promising was Darren Helm speeding into Pittsburgh's zone to negate an icing early on. For a while, it seemed like that set the tone. The Wings pressed early, but then the Pens took over around the 10-minute mark and never let up for the next 20 minutes. I spent a significant portion of the first period jumping up and down on my couch and screaming. The PK scared the living daylights out of me. I thought for sure that the puck was going to end up behind Ozzie when the Pens had possession for such a long time. They managed to kill it off, and I started to wonder if maybe it was a statement kill like in Game 5. It turned out to be more like a carbon copy of Game 6, though.
The Datsyuk-Zetterberg-Cleary line looked particularly good early on. They were really the only bright spot for the Wings. Even Darren Helm looked like he was dragging a little. Lidstrom made a bunch of straight-up solid defensive plays that, of course, flew under the radar.
Does anybody know why the icing was negated right before the first goal? I would go back and look at my DVR recording, but I'm not in a place where I'm ready to look at any of it.
The Wings gave up three goals on ugly 2-on-1s during this series. Just when they figured out their PK woes, that issue reared its ugly head. In the Stanley Cup Finals, no less. Honestly, for the first 40 minutes, it looked like they were playing a game in mid-November.
On a side note, did anyone else fully expect Crosby to not miss a single shift after his injury? I seriously thought he was just putting on a show to sell it to the refs, just like so many other times. I have to say, though, there was actually a moment when I respected him just a smidge when he came and sat on the bench with his team and even attempted to take a shift. That all evaporated when I realized that I'll be spending at least the next three seasons being inundated with marketing featuring his smug face with the Stanley Cup. On the other hand, maybe next year, the NHL marketing team will make an ad featuring a guy in a Lidstrom jersey cheering to all of the Wings highlights. Wait, who am I kidding?
It was also really nice of Homer to negate their first powerplay by taking a stupid penalty. I know the man puts up with a lot in front of the net (and was apparently playing hurt), but Game 7 of the SCF is no time to be screwing around.
After they went down 2-0, I sat back and relaxed. I'll admit that I lost the faith. Deep down, I knew it after the first goal, but after they were down by two, I started cutting my losses emotionally. I began to feel nauseous. I sniped at the players. I criticized their every move. I yelled frantic instructions as if they could actually hear me or would listen to me if they did hear. I predicted that they were going to get shut out in their own building in Game 7. The only thing keeping me from going absolutely crazy-nutso and dropping language like I was in a Quentin Tarantino film was the fact that I was watching with my little brother.
I knew that the Wings needed a goal by the end of the period if they were going to make a game of it. Datsyuk looked like he was trying to do everything himself. This spawned an instantly legendary quote from yours truly when I screamed, "Pavel, assists are yummy!" in an attempt to get him to pass the puck. When the Wings were still scoreless after two, I knew it was over. I just did. Maybe some will say that that makes me less of a fan, but hidden beneath my obsessive Wings fandom is a fairly rational mind. Also joining the ranks of legendary hockey quotes was my brother's response to my screaming, "How was that NOT a penalty?! How do you not call that?" He said, "He can't call those penalties. Gary Bettman has his children." So you pretty much know that that one's going to be tossed around for a long while.
When the third period started, I said that they needed to score within the first three minutes if they wanted to have a chance. I found myself wishing for that which I dread most: overtime. They got a couple of powerplay opportunities, but they didn't even look good. I'm not sure what that's about, but you had better believe that I'm going to drive myself to Hasek-like levels of insanity trying to figure it out over the summer.
Then, like in Game 6, the Wings scored. My brother and I shared an awkward moment where we actually hugged each other. We're still not sure what was going through our minds at that moment, but I suspect it wasn't much at all. It was just enough to give us hope, but it was too little, too late.
The last few minutes of the game nearly killed me, as evidenced by my tragic toe injury. There was actually a moment when I thought that maybe it would be the Wings' own little form of payback for Game 5 last year. I prefer not to speak of the post. Or that moment when Lidstrom swooped in on the loose puck sitting just to the right of MAF as time wound down. Those images will haunt my memory for the rest of my life, I assume in the same way that Pens fans are tormented by the picture of the puck sliding through Ozzie's crease as the last seconds ticked off of the clock in Game 6 last year.
Right now all I want to do is rip on the Wings. There are any number of points of criticism which I could detail right now, but what really hurts the most is that they once again failed to show up for the first half of a game. I realize that I should be jaded to this problem at this point in the season, given that it's been a major plot line since October, but I honestly expected better from my boys in Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals. When they finally release the full injury list, it had better be longer than Santa's if they want to use that as an excuse.
The Wings had the Pens down and out. They had 2-0 and 3-2 series leads, and each time, they failed to seal the deal. It came down to the simple fact that the Pens wanted it more. And that depresses me more than a loss following a stellar effort by the Wings ever would have. Going into the game, I had a terrible paranoia that the Cup would be decided by some fluky bounce that bounced off of three skates, the post and someone's pants or a bad call or a poorly-timed broken stick. I was wrong. It was decided by a team that came out and played its game in our building and left everything it had on the ice.
Am I proud of the boys? Maybe after a few days of reflection, I'll find some positive things to say. Objectively speaking, two consecutive trips to the SCF in the salary cap era is something most fans would be ecstatic about. I just can't shake the feeling that they let us down. When things were on the line, it just seemed like they couldn't be bothered to show up. Maybe it was partially due to injuries, maybe they ran out of gas, maybe it was just fate. But the bottom line is, the guys who rise above all of that and find a way to get the job done are the ones who get to spend the summer partying. If you can't get up for Game 7 of the Finals, then you don't deserve to win anyway.
I'll have more in the future. I'm going camping tomorrow, so I'll be offline for a while, which might not be the worst thing in the world. But I've got some stuff planned, and I'll be right here for the summer. Here's to a hell of a run. I needed this, even if it almost killed me. More importantly, here's to next season. May the Hockey Gods be with you.
Regarding Marian Hossa:
Not only did he not come home with the Cup, but after his lackluster performance in the playoffs this year, his value as a free agent has to drop. Which sucks for him, because after last year he finally managed to shake the label of playoff-underachiever with his spectacular Finals, and now that label will probably follow him around for the rest of his career.
I actually took notes for a recap tonight. I don't think I want to put myself through that. Not that you want to read it either... So I'm just going to start typing, and see where it takes me.
This is all very disappointing. Pittsburgh already won the Super Bowl. I just thought it'd be nice for us Michiganians (I refuse to refer to myself as a Michigander. It sounds like a male goose.) to have something happy in our lives for a change.
It's possible that I will never forgive Brad Stuart. I realize that it's not all his fault, but I need a scapegoat right now, and he pretty much volunteered himself for that role.
And since his last-minute tying goal during Game 5 last year wasn't cruel enough, Max Talbot decided to play hero and score not one, but two goals tonight. So, good on him, I guess. That's the stuff that playoff legends are made of. I guess he got the childhood "pond hockey moment" he's been dreaming of his whole life.
All things considered, I'm handling things pretty well. I'm currently icing my foot down. It's possible that I sprained my toe while flailing around on the floor in front of my TV during the final minute. It probably wasn't my best moment, but things happen during the playoffs. I stayed to watch the Cup presentation, and I made it through most of the Pens' turns with it before I had to shut it off. (Random side note: Why did it take so long for it to get to Malkin? I'm just saying. It was weird, what with him being the MVP and all.) Then I took my dog for a long walk around the park. I realize that going for a walk alone in the middle of the night with only the world's most cowardly puppy to accompany you probably isn't the best thing for a female to do, but I needed to be alone and outdoors. And at that point, if someone wanted to stab me and hide my body in the bushes, well, I wouldn't have put up much of a fight anyway. It was only when I got home and took my shoes off that I realized I had done serious damage to my foot, and couldn't walk without shoes. So that was fun. Then I pulverized an entire package of Oreos with a meat tenderizer. This sounds irrationally aggressive, but I had reasons, and it would've happened win or lose. It's actually not a bad way to relieve stress. If you have some spare Oreos laying around, I recommend trying this.
My dog began the game gnawing on her squeaky penguin chew toy. I thought it might be a good omen. Even more promising was Darren Helm speeding into Pittsburgh's zone to negate an icing early on. For a while, it seemed like that set the tone. The Wings pressed early, but then the Pens took over around the 10-minute mark and never let up for the next 20 minutes. I spent a significant portion of the first period jumping up and down on my couch and screaming. The PK scared the living daylights out of me. I thought for sure that the puck was going to end up behind Ozzie when the Pens had possession for such a long time. They managed to kill it off, and I started to wonder if maybe it was a statement kill like in Game 5. It turned out to be more like a carbon copy of Game 6, though.
The Datsyuk-Zetterberg-Cleary line looked particularly good early on. They were really the only bright spot for the Wings. Even Darren Helm looked like he was dragging a little. Lidstrom made a bunch of straight-up solid defensive plays that, of course, flew under the radar.
Does anybody know why the icing was negated right before the first goal? I would go back and look at my DVR recording, but I'm not in a place where I'm ready to look at any of it.
The Wings gave up three goals on ugly 2-on-1s during this series. Just when they figured out their PK woes, that issue reared its ugly head. In the Stanley Cup Finals, no less. Honestly, for the first 40 minutes, it looked like they were playing a game in mid-November.
On a side note, did anyone else fully expect Crosby to not miss a single shift after his injury? I seriously thought he was just putting on a show to sell it to the refs, just like so many other times. I have to say, though, there was actually a moment when I respected him just a smidge when he came and sat on the bench with his team and even attempted to take a shift. That all evaporated when I realized that I'll be spending at least the next three seasons being inundated with marketing featuring his smug face with the Stanley Cup. On the other hand, maybe next year, the NHL marketing team will make an ad featuring a guy in a Lidstrom jersey cheering to all of the Wings highlights. Wait, who am I kidding?
It was also really nice of Homer to negate their first powerplay by taking a stupid penalty. I know the man puts up with a lot in front of the net (and was apparently playing hurt), but Game 7 of the SCF is no time to be screwing around.
After they went down 2-0, I sat back and relaxed. I'll admit that I lost the faith. Deep down, I knew it after the first goal, but after they were down by two, I started cutting my losses emotionally. I began to feel nauseous. I sniped at the players. I criticized their every move. I yelled frantic instructions as if they could actually hear me or would listen to me if they did hear. I predicted that they were going to get shut out in their own building in Game 7. The only thing keeping me from going absolutely crazy-nutso and dropping language like I was in a Quentin Tarantino film was the fact that I was watching with my little brother.
I knew that the Wings needed a goal by the end of the period if they were going to make a game of it. Datsyuk looked like he was trying to do everything himself. This spawned an instantly legendary quote from yours truly when I screamed, "Pavel, assists are yummy!" in an attempt to get him to pass the puck. When the Wings were still scoreless after two, I knew it was over. I just did. Maybe some will say that that makes me less of a fan, but hidden beneath my obsessive Wings fandom is a fairly rational mind. Also joining the ranks of legendary hockey quotes was my brother's response to my screaming, "How was that NOT a penalty?! How do you not call that?" He said, "He can't call those penalties. Gary Bettman has his children." So you pretty much know that that one's going to be tossed around for a long while.
When the third period started, I said that they needed to score within the first three minutes if they wanted to have a chance. I found myself wishing for that which I dread most: overtime. They got a couple of powerplay opportunities, but they didn't even look good. I'm not sure what that's about, but you had better believe that I'm going to drive myself to Hasek-like levels of insanity trying to figure it out over the summer.
Then, like in Game 6, the Wings scored. My brother and I shared an awkward moment where we actually hugged each other. We're still not sure what was going through our minds at that moment, but I suspect it wasn't much at all. It was just enough to give us hope, but it was too little, too late.
The last few minutes of the game nearly killed me, as evidenced by my tragic toe injury. There was actually a moment when I thought that maybe it would be the Wings' own little form of payback for Game 5 last year. I prefer not to speak of the post. Or that moment when Lidstrom swooped in on the loose puck sitting just to the right of MAF as time wound down. Those images will haunt my memory for the rest of my life, I assume in the same way that Pens fans are tormented by the picture of the puck sliding through Ozzie's crease as the last seconds ticked off of the clock in Game 6 last year.
Right now all I want to do is rip on the Wings. There are any number of points of criticism which I could detail right now, but what really hurts the most is that they once again failed to show up for the first half of a game. I realize that I should be jaded to this problem at this point in the season, given that it's been a major plot line since October, but I honestly expected better from my boys in Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals. When they finally release the full injury list, it had better be longer than Santa's if they want to use that as an excuse.
The Wings had the Pens down and out. They had 2-0 and 3-2 series leads, and each time, they failed to seal the deal. It came down to the simple fact that the Pens wanted it more. And that depresses me more than a loss following a stellar effort by the Wings ever would have. Going into the game, I had a terrible paranoia that the Cup would be decided by some fluky bounce that bounced off of three skates, the post and someone's pants or a bad call or a poorly-timed broken stick. I was wrong. It was decided by a team that came out and played its game in our building and left everything it had on the ice.
Am I proud of the boys? Maybe after a few days of reflection, I'll find some positive things to say. Objectively speaking, two consecutive trips to the SCF in the salary cap era is something most fans would be ecstatic about. I just can't shake the feeling that they let us down. When things were on the line, it just seemed like they couldn't be bothered to show up. Maybe it was partially due to injuries, maybe they ran out of gas, maybe it was just fate. But the bottom line is, the guys who rise above all of that and find a way to get the job done are the ones who get to spend the summer partying. If you can't get up for Game 7 of the Finals, then you don't deserve to win anyway.
I'll have more in the future. I'm going camping tomorrow, so I'll be offline for a while, which might not be the worst thing in the world. But I've got some stuff planned, and I'll be right here for the summer. Here's to a hell of a run. I needed this, even if it almost killed me. More importantly, here's to next season. May the Hockey Gods be with you.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Five! Look, I Could Be an NHL Referee!...
I missed the second half of the game tonight, so I don't have much to say about that. By the time I got around to watching it on my DVR, the bleak reality of the loss had already sunk in, and I found it a little hard to care. I forced myself to watch the whole thing, because I felt some strange, irrational obligation. Or maybe it's just the inherent masochistic tendency that is a mandatory part of being a Red Wings fan.
Anyway, the Wings didn't get off to a particularly good start. If I were a rational, objective person, I might find it amusing how often I recap games this way. But I'm not. And it pisses me off. I understand that every once and a while a team might have an off-game where it takes a little longer to get rolling. It happens. But this consistently, and in the Stanley Cup Finals? Come one. I've been banging my head against walls over this for the better part of eight months now.
Then...Talbot. That name still sends chills down my spine. It just so happens that this was the one-year anniversary of Game 5, aka one of the most horrific nights of my life. And it's fairly obvious that Maxime Talbot was determined to drive another spike through my heart. I don't want to talk any more about the goal, except to once again point out that the Wings' PK absolutely sucks. Like the slow start issue, there's no plausible explanation for this. I like to think I'm a pretty smart girl, and for the life of me, I can't wrap my head around it.
And then there was Zetterberg tying it up with a beautiful shot. There's nothing more to say about this guy. He looks like he's determined to win the Cup all by himself. He didn't have a spectacular regular season, but man is he on a roll now. You just know that every single one of the Penguins is waking up covered in cold sweat and their own urine thanks to the night terrors they're having about Hank and his "will tank."
After the man-love of my brother's life gave the Wings the lead, I was feeling much better than I had all day. I knew it didn't mean much, but it's always more fun to watch when your boys are leading.
The Too Many Men on the Ice Incident really riled me up. I figured that the Wings would be fighting an extra man tonight thanks to all of Pittsburgh's whining about non-calls and Gary Bettman's obvious affection for Sidney Crosby, but I didn't think that would literally mean an extra man. Somewhere, every single Columbus Blue Jackets player and fan is crying in their beer thinking about Franzen's series-clinching powerplay goal at the end of Game 4. I don't want to hear any more complaining from Pittsburgh fans about how the referees are handing the series to the Wings.
Things like this are why the NHL is a joke to most Americans. And it's not a conspiracy. It's incompetence. Incompetence that is allowed to fester by the NHL's refusal to hold its officials accountable for their performance. And far too frequently, that incompetence, like herpes I presume, rears its ugly head and exposes the NHL for the second-rate organization that it is.
I'm not a big football fan, most likely due to growing up with the Lions, but I seem to remember an incident in the fall where a referee blew a call. And it was obvious. And it cost a team a game. And it could have impacted their playoff chances. What did he do afterward? He admitted that he made a mistake and apologized to the team and fans who had been slighted. The NFL said that it grades each official on every play of every game and uses those rankings to determine eligibility to work the playoffs or keep their job. Accordingly, this referee was downgraded. He was held responsible for his mistake, but I had to respect him for his class.
A couple of weeks ago, there was a controversial call in an NBA playoff game. Apparently one team was trying to foul the other near the end of the game, and the foul didn't get called (I've never understood the logic of a sport in which you sometimes want to be called for a foul, but I'm not really a basketball person either.). This non-call cost a team the game because the game-winning three-pointer was scored after the foul should've been called. The NBA came out and publicly admitted that there had been a mistake, and that the mistake had influenced the outcome of the game. While it didn't change the score, at least they at least acknowledged that an error had been made.
Contrast that to the NHL's reaction to things like The Goal That Wasn't. When faced with an obvious travesty of a call, what did the NHL do? It closed ranks and defended Brad Watson, stubbornly refusing to hold him accountable for his poor job-performance. And it's not just calls that have gone against the Wings. It's been happening in almost every game during the playoffs, league-wide. The worst part, other than taking the game out of the players' hands, is that it makes the league, the sport, and the rabid fans like myself look like complete jokes. It's been going on for a long time, and Gary Bettman's ignorance of the problem, refusal to implement changes, and/or complete and utter disregard for its effects on the game is almost criminal.
OK, back to the game.
Shortly after Pittsburgh's free mini-powerplay, they got a real one. It was during this powerplay that I almost screamed at the bartender because she leaned in and stuck her face right in front of mine to ask if I wanted anything to drink right as Crosby was breaking toward Ozzie with the puck. From the look on my face and the fact that I was literally sitting in a vertical fetal position in my chair, she clearly should've been able to tell that I was not in need of a beverage. Medical attention, perhaps, but not a beverage. She never came back after that. It's possible that I frightened her.
The Wings looked much better during the second period. They really carried the play for most of the time, but didn't seem to get the kind of traffic in front of the net that they usually do. I noticed this a lot more while I was watching it on my DVR because I wasn't completely losing my mind in the heat of the moment. There were several instances where loose pucks and rebounds were cleared from in front of the net because the Wings hadn't driven to the net.
Sammy had a breakaway. He hit the post. What else would you expect from a Mikael Samuelsson breakaway, though? At least he put it sort of on net...sort of.
Helm had a little bit of a rough night today. I think the Pens were tired of him running around them in circles and decided to teach him a lesson. He almost got his face sliced open with a skate after getting knocked down, so at least we know the kid has some luck around him.
Kunitz had a nice little cross-check to Franzen's head. What can I say? Once a Duck, always a Duck. Seems like Pronger.You.Goon has taught him well. On the other hand, it was nice to see the national announcers calling the Penguins out for a change. They seemed as incredulous as I was that the Too Many Men Incident wasn't called, and outright said that Kunitz was lucky to have gotten away with that.
The Ericsson penalty was pretty cheap, especially in light of the way things have been called all series. My softball team officially thinks I'm nuts thanks to the goal scored on the ensuing powerplay. I had a friend texting me score updates, and I pulled my phone out in between plays, saw that the Pens had taken the lead, and immediately began to cuss while standing in the middle of the infield. Mostly they were confused because one of our outfielders had just made a really good catch and everyone else was clapping and congratulating him.
(I realize at this point that I've spent a significant amount of time complaining about the officiating. That isn't entirely fair. The Wings couldn't find a way to score in the second period when they dominated, and then they let the Pens have their way with them for most of the third. Still, I demand excellence from myself at school and work, and I don't think it's unreasonable to expect the same level of performance from professional referees who have been chosen, presumably for their expertise [although in the NHL, that has to be considered a relative term], to work in the championship series. Sure, my standards are a little high, but I don't think that's unreasonable.)
Babcock sounded pretty riled up at his presser. It wasn't so much what he said as the way he said it. He wouldn't take the bait when the reporter asked him about the Too Many Men Incident, and just walked away. I also have to say that at this point, the Pens' coach hasn't managed to make me angry yet. In fact, it seems like he's actually...a decent guy. I suspect that it's because he's from Michigan. We're a little better class of folks up here in the Mitten.
That's all I have for now. This loss hurts a lot and I'm not in much of a mood to relive it. I didn't really think they were going to sweep, but it would've felt so nice. Plus, now I have to find someone to cover my shift Saturday night so I can watch Game 5.
Anyway, the Wings didn't get off to a particularly good start. If I were a rational, objective person, I might find it amusing how often I recap games this way. But I'm not. And it pisses me off. I understand that every once and a while a team might have an off-game where it takes a little longer to get rolling. It happens. But this consistently, and in the Stanley Cup Finals? Come one. I've been banging my head against walls over this for the better part of eight months now.
Then...Talbot. That name still sends chills down my spine. It just so happens that this was the one-year anniversary of Game 5, aka one of the most horrific nights of my life. And it's fairly obvious that Maxime Talbot was determined to drive another spike through my heart. I don't want to talk any more about the goal, except to once again point out that the Wings' PK absolutely sucks. Like the slow start issue, there's no plausible explanation for this. I like to think I'm a pretty smart girl, and for the life of me, I can't wrap my head around it.
And then there was Zetterberg tying it up with a beautiful shot. There's nothing more to say about this guy. He looks like he's determined to win the Cup all by himself. He didn't have a spectacular regular season, but man is he on a roll now. You just know that every single one of the Penguins is waking up covered in cold sweat and their own urine thanks to the night terrors they're having about Hank and his "will tank."
After the man-love of my brother's life gave the Wings the lead, I was feeling much better than I had all day. I knew it didn't mean much, but it's always more fun to watch when your boys are leading.
The Too Many Men on the Ice Incident really riled me up. I figured that the Wings would be fighting an extra man tonight thanks to all of Pittsburgh's whining about non-calls and Gary Bettman's obvious affection for Sidney Crosby, but I didn't think that would literally mean an extra man. Somewhere, every single Columbus Blue Jackets player and fan is crying in their beer thinking about Franzen's series-clinching powerplay goal at the end of Game 4. I don't want to hear any more complaining from Pittsburgh fans about how the referees are handing the series to the Wings.
Things like this are why the NHL is a joke to most Americans. And it's not a conspiracy. It's incompetence. Incompetence that is allowed to fester by the NHL's refusal to hold its officials accountable for their performance. And far too frequently, that incompetence, like herpes I presume, rears its ugly head and exposes the NHL for the second-rate organization that it is.
I'm not a big football fan, most likely due to growing up with the Lions, but I seem to remember an incident in the fall where a referee blew a call. And it was obvious. And it cost a team a game. And it could have impacted their playoff chances. What did he do afterward? He admitted that he made a mistake and apologized to the team and fans who had been slighted. The NFL said that it grades each official on every play of every game and uses those rankings to determine eligibility to work the playoffs or keep their job. Accordingly, this referee was downgraded. He was held responsible for his mistake, but I had to respect him for his class.
A couple of weeks ago, there was a controversial call in an NBA playoff game. Apparently one team was trying to foul the other near the end of the game, and the foul didn't get called (I've never understood the logic of a sport in which you sometimes want to be called for a foul, but I'm not really a basketball person either.). This non-call cost a team the game because the game-winning three-pointer was scored after the foul should've been called. The NBA came out and publicly admitted that there had been a mistake, and that the mistake had influenced the outcome of the game. While it didn't change the score, at least they at least acknowledged that an error had been made.
Contrast that to the NHL's reaction to things like The Goal That Wasn't. When faced with an obvious travesty of a call, what did the NHL do? It closed ranks and defended Brad Watson, stubbornly refusing to hold him accountable for his poor job-performance. And it's not just calls that have gone against the Wings. It's been happening in almost every game during the playoffs, league-wide. The worst part, other than taking the game out of the players' hands, is that it makes the league, the sport, and the rabid fans like myself look like complete jokes. It's been going on for a long time, and Gary Bettman's ignorance of the problem, refusal to implement changes, and/or complete and utter disregard for its effects on the game is almost criminal.
OK, back to the game.
Shortly after Pittsburgh's free mini-powerplay, they got a real one. It was during this powerplay that I almost screamed at the bartender because she leaned in and stuck her face right in front of mine to ask if I wanted anything to drink right as Crosby was breaking toward Ozzie with the puck. From the look on my face and the fact that I was literally sitting in a vertical fetal position in my chair, she clearly should've been able to tell that I was not in need of a beverage. Medical attention, perhaps, but not a beverage. She never came back after that. It's possible that I frightened her.
The Wings looked much better during the second period. They really carried the play for most of the time, but didn't seem to get the kind of traffic in front of the net that they usually do. I noticed this a lot more while I was watching it on my DVR because I wasn't completely losing my mind in the heat of the moment. There were several instances where loose pucks and rebounds were cleared from in front of the net because the Wings hadn't driven to the net.
Sammy had a breakaway. He hit the post. What else would you expect from a Mikael Samuelsson breakaway, though? At least he put it sort of on net...sort of.
Helm had a little bit of a rough night today. I think the Pens were tired of him running around them in circles and decided to teach him a lesson. He almost got his face sliced open with a skate after getting knocked down, so at least we know the kid has some luck around him.
Kunitz had a nice little cross-check to Franzen's head. What can I say? Once a Duck, always a Duck. Seems like Pronger.You.Goon has taught him well. On the other hand, it was nice to see the national announcers calling the Penguins out for a change. They seemed as incredulous as I was that the Too Many Men Incident wasn't called, and outright said that Kunitz was lucky to have gotten away with that.
The Ericsson penalty was pretty cheap, especially in light of the way things have been called all series. My softball team officially thinks I'm nuts thanks to the goal scored on the ensuing powerplay. I had a friend texting me score updates, and I pulled my phone out in between plays, saw that the Pens had taken the lead, and immediately began to cuss while standing in the middle of the infield. Mostly they were confused because one of our outfielders had just made a really good catch and everyone else was clapping and congratulating him.
(I realize at this point that I've spent a significant amount of time complaining about the officiating. That isn't entirely fair. The Wings couldn't find a way to score in the second period when they dominated, and then they let the Pens have their way with them for most of the third. Still, I demand excellence from myself at school and work, and I don't think it's unreasonable to expect the same level of performance from professional referees who have been chosen, presumably for their expertise [although in the NHL, that has to be considered a relative term], to work in the championship series. Sure, my standards are a little high, but I don't think that's unreasonable.)
Babcock sounded pretty riled up at his presser. It wasn't so much what he said as the way he said it. He wouldn't take the bait when the reporter asked him about the Too Many Men Incident, and just walked away. I also have to say that at this point, the Pens' coach hasn't managed to make me angry yet. In fact, it seems like he's actually...a decent guy. I suspect that it's because he's from Michigan. We're a little better class of folks up here in the Mitten.
That's all I have for now. This loss hurts a lot and I'm not in much of a mood to relive it. I didn't really think they were going to sweep, but it would've felt so nice. Plus, now I have to find someone to cover my shift Saturday night so I can watch Game 5.
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