I've never in my life watched the NHL Award show. People who know me find this strange because I spend almost every waking moment pouring over any NHL-related news that I can get my hands on. So you would think that I would love to see the players in a different setting and completely out of their element. Mostly though, it just comes across as awkward. Kind of like when Luc Robitaille had a cameo on Bones this year. I couldn't bring myself to look away and all I could do was sit there with a horrified grimace on my face.
So I prefer to stick with my annual Unofficial Awards, which this year managed to land me on both A2Y and Puck Daddy. I'm not ashamed to admit that this was the highlight of my day yesterday. Mostly I'm just amazed that anyone is reading my ranting and raving. So thanks, I guess.
As everyone not living under a rock knows by now, Dangle Dangle took home the Lady Byng and the Selke. I only watched the video of his awards and Vladdie's entrance, so I can't say for sure that his acceptance speeches were the best ones of the night, but I'm willing to bet they were. Why? Just because.
There weren't any real shockers on the night. The awards fell pretty much as I thought they would. I was disappointed that Lidstrom didn't win the Norris, but I wasn't remotely surprised. I had figured that one would be a toss up between Chara and Green, and I'm kind of glad that it fell to Chara. At least he appears to be a defenseman. Maybe next year Green will challenge Datsyuk for the Selke. I'm pretty sure Dangle Dangle would still win, though.
The highlight of the night was Vladdie's appearance. That and the Winter Classic are possibly the only two things the NHL did right this year. I still remember sitting in front of the TV watching the coverage of the limo accident with tears in my eyes. He's one of those guys who everybody except apparently Penguins fans can rally around. It makes me proud to say that he was/is a Red Wing.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Thursday, June 18, 2009
2009 Unofficial NHL Awards...
I hope nobody was expecting actual predictions or analysis of the NHL Awards show. If you did, clearly you missed the purpose of this blog. The truth is, I've never really cared all that much about them. While I'm sure they're fun to win, they're not really the trophies I'm after, and I think most of the players would agree with me. That being said, the thought that Mike Green is probably going to be taking home Nick Lidstrom's trophy makes me gag a little. I'm pretty sure they should re-open voting for the Norris just to take into consideration the testicle incident. (Once again, I find myself discussing this. I really did not anticipate ever having Lidstrom's genitalia as a conversation topic in my life.) The Unofficial Awards are a tradition started in 2002. They're very much Red Wing-centric, and I refuse to apologize for this. Also, a lot of the awards were stolen from my high school yearbook. You've been warned.
So, without further ado, I bring you the 7th annual Unofficial NHL Awards...
The Class Couple Award goes to...Gary Bettman and Sidney Crosby. Previous winners include Gary Bettman and Sidney Crosby. In fact, it should really be re-named after them, what with all of the discussion of renaming the real NHL awards to honor more modern players. It's fairly obvious why the commish and his Little Buddy won, so I won't go into depth.
Runners up: Tyler Kennedy and his stick, and my brother and Johan Franzen.
The Hatfield-McCoy Enemies Award goes to Mike Ilitch and Gary Bettman. Kudos to Mr. Ilitch for snubbing Bettman the same way the commish's Little Buddy snubbed Lidstrom. It's nice to see that at least one NHL owner has the guts to stand up to Bettman.
Runners up: Crosby and Ovechkin--this one isn't going away anytime soon, and me and Brad Watson.
Most Likely to Start a Revolution: Alex Ovechkin. Because, seriously, would you dream of giving this award to anyone else? Also, during my freshman year of high school, there was actually a crazy Russian kid who won this award. So there's some historical basis for my selection. Like his celebrations or not, his kind of personality is exactly what the NHL needs. Whether he's trying (and scoring on) absurd plays that nobody else would even attempt, pissing off Don Cherry, or stealing golf karts and almost decapitating himself, he is without question, the NHL's resident lunatic.
Runners up: Sean Avery and T.J. Oshie, mostly because I couldn't think of anyone else.
The Invisibility Cloak Award goes to Henrik Zetterberg for rendering Sidney Crosby absolutely useless for the second consecutive Finals. Crosby is going to be having nightmares about Hank shadowing his every move for the rest of the summer. Every time he sets foot near the Stanley Cup, he's going to be glancing over his shoulder just to make sure Z and his beard aren't there to take it away from him.
Runners up: Nick Lidstrom because he pretty much does that to anyone he faces, and Colin Campbell for shrouding the NHL's disciplinary process in a cloud of mystery.
The Golden Pretzel Award for Epic Choking goes to the San Jose Sharks. Remember when we thought they were going to be the Wings' biggest obstacle to repeating as champs? Yeah, neither do I. It was that long ago. I'm almost ashamed to admit that I was rooting for Anaheim to upset them, just so I could laugh. It was probably the only time I've ever wanted the Ducks to win a hockey game that didn't involve Charlie Conway.
Runners up: Marty Brodeur in the last 1:20 of Game 7 against Carolina and the Wings for failing to rise to the occasion during either of their two chances to clinch the Stanley Cup.
The Brainiac Award goes to the Wings' very own Ken Holland. I can't help but think that if he had gone into scientific research instead of hockey, cancer would've been cured, I'd have a flying car, and robots would run the Taco Bell drive through so my order would be made correctly.
Runners up: Mike Babcock and Rocky Wirtz.
The List Award (as in, "You're on my list.") is presented to the Freep's very own Drew Sharp. There's something utterly condescending in his tone when he writes about the Wings (and possibly anything else. I wouldn't know. The only time I bother to read his work is when it involves hockey.). You get the feeling that he really doesn't like hockey at all. Sometimes I'm sure he wants the Wings to lose. Like when he wrote this article. To be fair though, there were a lot of qualified candidates who could've won this award, and it was a pretty tough choice.
Runners up: PYG, Gary Bettman, Sidney Crosby, and the writers of the Pens Blog.
Mr. Invisible goes to Marian Hossa for completely disappearing in the Finals (and all but the preceding Game 4s). I was waiting to pass judgment on him because I had been saying that he looked injured since early on in the playoffs, but he claims to be healthy and thus lacks an excuse for his lousy production. You'd think that a guy on the verge of being an NHL punch-line for the rest of his career would've been able to muster a bit more of an effort when he was within reach of both the Stanley Cup and complete validation for his decision.
Runners up: Jiri Hudler because for the life of me, I don't remember seeing him on the ice at all during the last two rounds. The only reason he didn't win the award was because Hossa had much higher stakes. I almost went with Crosby for the second runner up, but I figured I pick on him enough, so I'll go with Patrick Kane. Aside from that time Franzen stole his mouthguard, Kane had an entirely forgettable Western Conference Finals series.
Speaking of the mouthguard incident, I'll go ahead and give the Mule the Class Clown Award. I've probably watched this video three dozen times, and it never fails to make me laugh.
Runners up: I'll go with Pavel Datsyuk for being an all around funny guy and that guy who plays Zetterberg in the fake NHL commercials.
The Apple Polisher Award goes to Sidney Crosby. We can all be pretty certain that apples aren't the only thing he's polishing for Gary Bettman.
Runners up: Pierre McGuire, who coincidentally appears to also spend a good deal of time polishing his own head, and Scott Walker because he had to do some epic sucking up to avoid getting suspended for his little sucker-punch.
In our first shocking upset of the night, I'm awarding the Golden Elbow Award to Scott Niedermayer. Believe me, wresting this one from the clutches of his teammate and 6-time winner, Chris Pronger.You.Goon, was quite a feat. Pretty much going after a Lady Byng winner/nominee who clearly didn't want to fight after a game that his team won was the only way anyone was going to defeat Pronger. Lo and behold, that's exactly what Niedermayer did after the Ducks won Game 6 against the Wings. He even threw in furtive peek at the referees before he landed his elbow. It was classic form.
Runners up: PYG just for being himself and Evgeni Malkin for his elbow that "kind of rode up" all the way into Franzen's face.
The Master Thespian Award goes to Sidney Crosby, just for that epic dive he took when Maltby tapped him in the back of the leg. Seriously, I stopped watching the game and replayed it on my DVR three times trying to figure out what he was doing. The fact that I skipped back from the live game for even a second is saying something because it's entirely possible that I would let my own mother die if she happened to choke during a Wings playoff game.
Runners up: Gary Bettman for coming this close to concealing his utter glee when he presented the Cup to Crosby and Chris Osgood for sparking the scrum that led to the Zetterberg/Malkin fight.
And finally, the Unsung Hero Award goes to Darren Helm. On a team highlighted by superstars, this kid who spent the majority of the season in the minors not only looked like he belonged, but oftentimes like he was the best player wearing a Winged Wheel. His epic penalty kill during Game 5 of the Chicago series was one of the highlights of the season. There were games during which I'm pretty sure he never left the ice because it seemed like he was hitting someone or beating them to a loose puck every 10 seconds. Surrounded by Lidstrom, Zetterberg, Datsyuk, Rafalski, Franzen, Hossa and the rest of the bunch, it's easy to overlook him, but man he had a hell of a playoff run.
Runners up: Chris Osgood for never getting one tenth of the credit he deserves and Justin Abdelkader for knocking in twice as many goals as Sidney Crosby during the Finals.
So, without further ado, I bring you the 7th annual Unofficial NHL Awards...
The Class Couple Award goes to...Gary Bettman and Sidney Crosby. Previous winners include Gary Bettman and Sidney Crosby. In fact, it should really be re-named after them, what with all of the discussion of renaming the real NHL awards to honor more modern players. It's fairly obvious why the commish and his Little Buddy won, so I won't go into depth.
Runners up: Tyler Kennedy and his stick, and my brother and Johan Franzen.
The Hatfield-McCoy Enemies Award goes to Mike Ilitch and Gary Bettman. Kudos to Mr. Ilitch for snubbing Bettman the same way the commish's Little Buddy snubbed Lidstrom. It's nice to see that at least one NHL owner has the guts to stand up to Bettman.
Runners up: Crosby and Ovechkin--this one isn't going away anytime soon, and me and Brad Watson.
Most Likely to Start a Revolution: Alex Ovechkin. Because, seriously, would you dream of giving this award to anyone else? Also, during my freshman year of high school, there was actually a crazy Russian kid who won this award. So there's some historical basis for my selection. Like his celebrations or not, his kind of personality is exactly what the NHL needs. Whether he's trying (and scoring on) absurd plays that nobody else would even attempt, pissing off Don Cherry, or stealing golf karts and almost decapitating himself, he is without question, the NHL's resident lunatic.
Runners up: Sean Avery and T.J. Oshie, mostly because I couldn't think of anyone else.
The Invisibility Cloak Award goes to Henrik Zetterberg for rendering Sidney Crosby absolutely useless for the second consecutive Finals. Crosby is going to be having nightmares about Hank shadowing his every move for the rest of the summer. Every time he sets foot near the Stanley Cup, he's going to be glancing over his shoulder just to make sure Z and his beard aren't there to take it away from him.
Runners up: Nick Lidstrom because he pretty much does that to anyone he faces, and Colin Campbell for shrouding the NHL's disciplinary process in a cloud of mystery.
The Golden Pretzel Award for Epic Choking goes to the San Jose Sharks. Remember when we thought they were going to be the Wings' biggest obstacle to repeating as champs? Yeah, neither do I. It was that long ago. I'm almost ashamed to admit that I was rooting for Anaheim to upset them, just so I could laugh. It was probably the only time I've ever wanted the Ducks to win a hockey game that didn't involve Charlie Conway.
Runners up: Marty Brodeur in the last 1:20 of Game 7 against Carolina and the Wings for failing to rise to the occasion during either of their two chances to clinch the Stanley Cup.
The Brainiac Award goes to the Wings' very own Ken Holland. I can't help but think that if he had gone into scientific research instead of hockey, cancer would've been cured, I'd have a flying car, and robots would run the Taco Bell drive through so my order would be made correctly.
Runners up: Mike Babcock and Rocky Wirtz.
The List Award (as in, "You're on my list.") is presented to the Freep's very own Drew Sharp. There's something utterly condescending in his tone when he writes about the Wings (and possibly anything else. I wouldn't know. The only time I bother to read his work is when it involves hockey.). You get the feeling that he really doesn't like hockey at all. Sometimes I'm sure he wants the Wings to lose. Like when he wrote this article. To be fair though, there were a lot of qualified candidates who could've won this award, and it was a pretty tough choice.
Runners up: PYG, Gary Bettman, Sidney Crosby, and the writers of the Pens Blog.
Mr. Invisible goes to Marian Hossa for completely disappearing in the Finals (and all but the preceding Game 4s). I was waiting to pass judgment on him because I had been saying that he looked injured since early on in the playoffs, but he claims to be healthy and thus lacks an excuse for his lousy production. You'd think that a guy on the verge of being an NHL punch-line for the rest of his career would've been able to muster a bit more of an effort when he was within reach of both the Stanley Cup and complete validation for his decision.
Runners up: Jiri Hudler because for the life of me, I don't remember seeing him on the ice at all during the last two rounds. The only reason he didn't win the award was because Hossa had much higher stakes. I almost went with Crosby for the second runner up, but I figured I pick on him enough, so I'll go with Patrick Kane. Aside from that time Franzen stole his mouthguard, Kane had an entirely forgettable Western Conference Finals series.
Speaking of the mouthguard incident, I'll go ahead and give the Mule the Class Clown Award. I've probably watched this video three dozen times, and it never fails to make me laugh.
Runners up: I'll go with Pavel Datsyuk for being an all around funny guy and that guy who plays Zetterberg in the fake NHL commercials.
The Apple Polisher Award goes to Sidney Crosby. We can all be pretty certain that apples aren't the only thing he's polishing for Gary Bettman.
Runners up: Pierre McGuire, who coincidentally appears to also spend a good deal of time polishing his own head, and Scott Walker because he had to do some epic sucking up to avoid getting suspended for his little sucker-punch.
In our first shocking upset of the night, I'm awarding the Golden Elbow Award to Scott Niedermayer. Believe me, wresting this one from the clutches of his teammate and 6-time winner, Chris Pronger.You.Goon, was quite a feat. Pretty much going after a Lady Byng winner/nominee who clearly didn't want to fight after a game that his team won was the only way anyone was going to defeat Pronger. Lo and behold, that's exactly what Niedermayer did after the Ducks won Game 6 against the Wings. He even threw in furtive peek at the referees before he landed his elbow. It was classic form.
Runners up: PYG just for being himself and Evgeni Malkin for his elbow that "kind of rode up" all the way into Franzen's face.
The Master Thespian Award goes to Sidney Crosby, just for that epic dive he took when Maltby tapped him in the back of the leg. Seriously, I stopped watching the game and replayed it on my DVR three times trying to figure out what he was doing. The fact that I skipped back from the live game for even a second is saying something because it's entirely possible that I would let my own mother die if she happened to choke during a Wings playoff game.
Runners up: Gary Bettman for coming this close to concealing his utter glee when he presented the Cup to Crosby and Chris Osgood for sparking the scrum that led to the Zetterberg/Malkin fight.
And finally, the Unsung Hero Award goes to Darren Helm. On a team highlighted by superstars, this kid who spent the majority of the season in the minors not only looked like he belonged, but oftentimes like he was the best player wearing a Winged Wheel. His epic penalty kill during Game 5 of the Chicago series was one of the highlights of the season. There were games during which I'm pretty sure he never left the ice because it seemed like he was hitting someone or beating them to a loose puck every 10 seconds. Surrounded by Lidstrom, Zetterberg, Datsyuk, Rafalski, Franzen, Hossa and the rest of the bunch, it's easy to overlook him, but man he had a hell of a playoff run.
Runners up: Chris Osgood for never getting one tenth of the credit he deserves and Justin Abdelkader for knocking in twice as many goals as Sidney Crosby during the Finals.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Life Goes On...
After my little love-in with myself over my superior taste in hockey teams, I thought I was done for a while. I'm actually surprised to discover that I still have the desire to write about it. I guess it shouldn't be that much of a shock considering how hard it's been to get me to shut up about hockey since I was about nine.
After writing my last post, I went upstairs and buried myself in the TV for a couple of hours. And then all of a sudden, I heard some pleasantly familiar sounds. I looked out my window, and there, in the middle of the street, were four kids playing street hockey. It made me smile. A couple of hours later, I took my dog for a walk, and two blocks away in the back of my subdivision, was another group of kids just setting up a net in the street. The thought that at this time next year I'm going to be searching for a job in a place where this wouldn't be completely normal makes me sad. There's just no place like Hockeytown.
There's been a lot written over the last couple of days implying that this is the end of the Wings' dominance. I disagree. Just like I've disagreed with every article that's been written at the end of every year for as long as I can remember. Between the core of talent they have locked up long-term, the flood of rookie talent they've got lined up, and the enduring brilliance of Ken Holland, there's absolutely no reason that we can't expect this team to make deep playoff runs for years to come. Do you honestly imagine Henrik Zetterberg, heir apparent to the C, retiring in 12 years with only one Stanley Cup ring to his name? Yeah, I don't either. Even now, I firmly believe that the Wings would've come out on top but for their injuries. I know people will say that that's petulant and sore-loserish, but it's true, and I'll stand by it no matter what. I also believe that the Wings would've run right through any other team in the Eastern Conference this year if they were at 100% (or even 80% for that matter). The Anaheim series was by far the toughest battle that any team faced in the playoffs, and there's no way you can convince me that scratching and clawing their way through that mess didn't take its toll on the boys. It might not be next season, or even the one after that, but the Wings will be back. Mark my words. The boys aren't going anywhere.
There's also been some disappointment expressed that they blew their chance to secure their dynasty. I don't buy that crap. I was sold on the whole dynasty thing after 2002. The fact of the matter is that, with the exception of maybe the Lakers, the Wings have been the most dominant professional sports franchise in the country for the better part of my lifetime. And if people aren't willing to recognize that now, then one more championship wouldn't have made a bit of difference anyway.
After writing my last post, I went upstairs and buried myself in the TV for a couple of hours. And then all of a sudden, I heard some pleasantly familiar sounds. I looked out my window, and there, in the middle of the street, were four kids playing street hockey. It made me smile. A couple of hours later, I took my dog for a walk, and two blocks away in the back of my subdivision, was another group of kids just setting up a net in the street. The thought that at this time next year I'm going to be searching for a job in a place where this wouldn't be completely normal makes me sad. There's just no place like Hockeytown.
There's been a lot written over the last couple of days implying that this is the end of the Wings' dominance. I disagree. Just like I've disagreed with every article that's been written at the end of every year for as long as I can remember. Between the core of talent they have locked up long-term, the flood of rookie talent they've got lined up, and the enduring brilliance of Ken Holland, there's absolutely no reason that we can't expect this team to make deep playoff runs for years to come. Do you honestly imagine Henrik Zetterberg, heir apparent to the C, retiring in 12 years with only one Stanley Cup ring to his name? Yeah, I don't either. Even now, I firmly believe that the Wings would've come out on top but for their injuries. I know people will say that that's petulant and sore-loserish, but it's true, and I'll stand by it no matter what. I also believe that the Wings would've run right through any other team in the Eastern Conference this year if they were at 100% (or even 80% for that matter). The Anaheim series was by far the toughest battle that any team faced in the playoffs, and there's no way you can convince me that scratching and clawing their way through that mess didn't take its toll on the boys. It might not be next season, or even the one after that, but the Wings will be back. Mark my words. The boys aren't going anywhere.
There's also been some disappointment expressed that they blew their chance to secure their dynasty. I don't buy that crap. I was sold on the whole dynasty thing after 2002. The fact of the matter is that, with the exception of maybe the Lakers, the Wings have been the most dominant professional sports franchise in the country for the better part of my lifetime. And if people aren't willing to recognize that now, then one more championship wouldn't have made a bit of difference anyway.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Hell Yeah, I'm Proud...
At the end of my last post, I wrote something about being let down by the Wings. I don't know exactly what I said, because that would require me to go back and reread the most painful thing I've ever written in my life (and that's saying something coming from someone who's written 25-page papers on the prison system before). But over the last couple of days, I had a chance to do quite a bit of solo driving, which is always when I do my best thinking. And the more I thought about what I had written and the fact that I really had lost my faith during the second period, the worse I felt. I couldn't wait to get back to my computer and "make amends." I actually thought of being late to my camping trip so I could go back and write some more.
The truth is, I am proud of my boys. In the heat of the moment, while I was mourning the loss, I was angry and upset and miserable and mean. But in all honesty, this particular playoff run exemplified why I truly love the Wings (except for the part where they were supposed to win...).
They fought and they battled, seemingly uphill at times, and they carried an entire devastated region on their backs for two months. And that can't have been easy considering the amount of injuries they were playing with. (Kris Draper had torn neck cartilage? Seriously? I didn't even think that that was something that was possible. Also, I've never seen the word "testicle" tossed around in news coverage as frequently as I have the last few days. I'm completely astonished that Lidstrom had surgery on his balls during the third round and only missed two games. And I'm not even a guy. In the words of my brother, "What kind of a man does that to another man?" regarding the spearing incident. And those are just the beginning of the list.) I also once read somewhere that Detroit was the most overweight city in America, so that probably didn't help matters either.
It's not just the injuries that they battled through that make me proud, though. One of the moments that defines the playoff run in my mind was The Goal That Wasn't. A lot of lesser teams would have just called it quits and said, "this isn't our year," but the Wings battled back and won that series. They just put their heads down and went to work on the ice.
Mostly, though, I admire their class. I know it's talked about a lot in sports, and it's often irrelevant, but it seems like it always comes back to that for me. It's part of what makes me thank the Hockey Gods for the good fortune of growing up a Wings fan. It's also why I was so upset when they traded for Bertuzzi and was so glad when he left. While I have no idea what the players are like privately, it's nice to at least be able to admire their public personas, which is more than I can say for a lot of other teams out there.
This was most noticeable during the second round when it had been fairly well established that the refs were going to follow an "anything goes" policy. Anaheim had proven in the past that this was an effective way to win in the playoffs and seemed determined to do so again, but the Wings never stooped to their level. While Anaheim felt it was necessary to start after-game scrums (games they won, which I still haven't figured out) and rough up players, the Wings stuck to their tried and true "between the whistles" schtick. One of my brothers kept screaming for them to just do it back, and maybe that would've made the series easier to win. But I liked the fact that they didn't. Maybe that makes me less of a fan, but I'll go head-to-head with anyone else's rabid devotion if you want to make it a contest of who likes the Wings more.
The same thing was showcased during their blowout victories in Game 4 against Chicago and 5 against Pittsburgh. They just kept playing their game and let the other teams make fools of themselves as they paraded to the penalty box. Even when the Wings arguably lost their composure in Game 4 of the Finals, they never sank to the childish antics and vicious attacks that so many other teams resort to when faced with the frustration of being dominated.
There was an article linked to on Snapshots that claimed that Franzen would've become the poster boy for obstruction if the Pens had ended up losing. Which is really funny considering the egregious amounts of obstruction that were ignored against them. Especially when there's a guy on Crosby's team who somehow only managed two penalty minutes during the entire series. coughHalGillcough
I'm going to stop myself before this spirals out of control into an officiating rant. That's not what this post is supposed to be about. As much as I'm disappointed that they came up one game short, I really am proud of what the Wings did this season. They were counted out of every series, including the one against playoff-virgin Columbus, and went further in the playoffs than any other Cup-defenders since...themselves in 1998. Nobody expected that to happen, and in all honesty, neither did I, especially during the doldrums of February and March.
Over the course of the last two months, I've spent way too many hours pouring over every word of hockey coverage and run up more credit card bills at bars than I care to think about. I've drank approximately 687 gallons of Slurpees, and cut at least 17 years off of my life expectancy. But man, did I ever have a good time doing it.
The truth is, I am proud of my boys. In the heat of the moment, while I was mourning the loss, I was angry and upset and miserable and mean. But in all honesty, this particular playoff run exemplified why I truly love the Wings (except for the part where they were supposed to win...).
They fought and they battled, seemingly uphill at times, and they carried an entire devastated region on their backs for two months. And that can't have been easy considering the amount of injuries they were playing with. (Kris Draper had torn neck cartilage? Seriously? I didn't even think that that was something that was possible. Also, I've never seen the word "testicle" tossed around in news coverage as frequently as I have the last few days. I'm completely astonished that Lidstrom had surgery on his balls during the third round and only missed two games. And I'm not even a guy. In the words of my brother, "What kind of a man does that to another man?" regarding the spearing incident. And those are just the beginning of the list.) I also once read somewhere that Detroit was the most overweight city in America, so that probably didn't help matters either.
It's not just the injuries that they battled through that make me proud, though. One of the moments that defines the playoff run in my mind was The Goal That Wasn't. A lot of lesser teams would have just called it quits and said, "this isn't our year," but the Wings battled back and won that series. They just put their heads down and went to work on the ice.
Mostly, though, I admire their class. I know it's talked about a lot in sports, and it's often irrelevant, but it seems like it always comes back to that for me. It's part of what makes me thank the Hockey Gods for the good fortune of growing up a Wings fan. It's also why I was so upset when they traded for Bertuzzi and was so glad when he left. While I have no idea what the players are like privately, it's nice to at least be able to admire their public personas, which is more than I can say for a lot of other teams out there.
This was most noticeable during the second round when it had been fairly well established that the refs were going to follow an "anything goes" policy. Anaheim had proven in the past that this was an effective way to win in the playoffs and seemed determined to do so again, but the Wings never stooped to their level. While Anaheim felt it was necessary to start after-game scrums (games they won, which I still haven't figured out) and rough up players, the Wings stuck to their tried and true "between the whistles" schtick. One of my brothers kept screaming for them to just do it back, and maybe that would've made the series easier to win. But I liked the fact that they didn't. Maybe that makes me less of a fan, but I'll go head-to-head with anyone else's rabid devotion if you want to make it a contest of who likes the Wings more.
The same thing was showcased during their blowout victories in Game 4 against Chicago and 5 against Pittsburgh. They just kept playing their game and let the other teams make fools of themselves as they paraded to the penalty box. Even when the Wings arguably lost their composure in Game 4 of the Finals, they never sank to the childish antics and vicious attacks that so many other teams resort to when faced with the frustration of being dominated.
There was an article linked to on Snapshots that claimed that Franzen would've become the poster boy for obstruction if the Pens had ended up losing. Which is really funny considering the egregious amounts of obstruction that were ignored against them. Especially when there's a guy on Crosby's team who somehow only managed two penalty minutes during the entire series. coughHalGillcough
I'm going to stop myself before this spirals out of control into an officiating rant. That's not what this post is supposed to be about. As much as I'm disappointed that they came up one game short, I really am proud of what the Wings did this season. They were counted out of every series, including the one against playoff-virgin Columbus, and went further in the playoffs than any other Cup-defenders since...themselves in 1998. Nobody expected that to happen, and in all honesty, neither did I, especially during the doldrums of February and March.
Over the course of the last two months, I've spent way too many hours pouring over every word of hockey coverage and run up more credit card bills at bars than I care to think about. I've drank approximately 687 gallons of Slurpees, and cut at least 17 years off of my life expectancy. But man, did I ever have a good time doing it.
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.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Night of A Thousand Heart Attacks...
I know I said I was done until the game was, but it turns out that I just can't stay away.
2.5 hours until game time. How's your day been? So far, my biggest accomplishment has been forming coherent sentences. I lost count of my near-death heart stoppages once I hit triple digits at approximately noon.
There was a moment earlier in the day when I felt a tinge of jealousy for those "fans of the sport" who had no vested interest in the outcome of Game 7 and just wanted to see a good game. I thought how nice it would be to casually tune in and enjoy it with a blissful sense of detachment, sans life threatening blood pressure issues. Then I snapped out of it faster than a Nick Lidstrom slapper from the point. I realized that this is what I live for. This is how I get my kicks. It's like my own special version of the runner's high. So what if it's literally melting years off of my life expectancy as I type this very sentence? Without days like these, moments like running down Woodward in an early June rainstorm wearing my brand new Cup t-shirt, my hair still shedding confetti from the Joe, screaming at the top of my lungs last year would have no meaning. (It's also important to note that while I was doing this, I was stone-cold sober. I think it provides a better perspective on the effect that the Wings have on my emotional state.)
What really strikes me the most is the finality of it all. I've never been in a situation where I know that it's the absolute last game of the season. There have been games when I expected the season to be over, but it was never a sure thing. Even in the Game 7s I've lived through in the past, there was always wondering when the next round would start if the Wings won or clearing my schedule for the next game a couple of days down the road. I'm not sure I like finality. I'm one of those people who likes to keep my options open and make plans on the fly. This is an entirely new experience for me. May the Hockey Gods help us all.
Going into Game 7, there's very little that I know for sure. And I don't just mean related to hockey. I don't think I could even tell you my home address at this point. I am, however, 100% positive about these things:
-The Joe will be absolutely crazy-nutso tonight, if it isn't already. I wouldn't be surprised if banners start falling from the rafters before the opening faceoff, like some kind of red and white rain of triumph.
-At the end of the game I will be crying, regardless of the outcome. They'll either be tears of joy or sadness, plus a little relief from having survived the ordeal at all. I'm not the slightest bit ashamed to admit this.
-Careers will be defined tonight, one way or another. There are guys on both sides who stand to cement their legacies with a victory tonight, and some who may be made eternal goats if they fail to show up to play.
-My puppy is going to be cowering in a corner before the first intermission. If she can escape the headlock I'm going to have her in, that is.
-The neighbors (if they don't already) are going to question my sanity thanks to my tendency to scream at the top of my lungs. A lot. If they thought Game 7 against Anaheim was obnoxious, they have no idea what's in store for them now.
-These guys will decide which city gets to party: Henrik Zetterberg, Chris Osgood, Nick Lidstrom, Pavel Datsyuk, Marian Hossa, Johan Franzen, Darren Helm, Evegeni Malkin, Sidney Crosby, Jordan Staal, Rob Scuderi, Marc-Andre Fleury, Paul Devorski, and Bill McCreary.
Yeah, I literally have nothing else to say. Somewhere, Dan Bylsma is finishing off his imported lucky burrito. I hope the man enjoys it, because it's been my experience that burritos are not meant to be reheated. I'm too nervous to eat dinner, so I'm going to go commence my traditional fetal position/nausea/bartering with the Hockey Gods routine until it's time for my pre-game Slurpee run. If I never post again, it's fairly safe to assume that the game killed me.
2.5 hours until game time. How's your day been? So far, my biggest accomplishment has been forming coherent sentences. I lost count of my near-death heart stoppages once I hit triple digits at approximately noon.
There was a moment earlier in the day when I felt a tinge of jealousy for those "fans of the sport" who had no vested interest in the outcome of Game 7 and just wanted to see a good game. I thought how nice it would be to casually tune in and enjoy it with a blissful sense of detachment, sans life threatening blood pressure issues. Then I snapped out of it faster than a Nick Lidstrom slapper from the point. I realized that this is what I live for. This is how I get my kicks. It's like my own special version of the runner's high. So what if it's literally melting years off of my life expectancy as I type this very sentence? Without days like these, moments like running down Woodward in an early June rainstorm wearing my brand new Cup t-shirt, my hair still shedding confetti from the Joe, screaming at the top of my lungs last year would have no meaning. (It's also important to note that while I was doing this, I was stone-cold sober. I think it provides a better perspective on the effect that the Wings have on my emotional state.)
What really strikes me the most is the finality of it all. I've never been in a situation where I know that it's the absolute last game of the season. There have been games when I expected the season to be over, but it was never a sure thing. Even in the Game 7s I've lived through in the past, there was always wondering when the next round would start if the Wings won or clearing my schedule for the next game a couple of days down the road. I'm not sure I like finality. I'm one of those people who likes to keep my options open and make plans on the fly. This is an entirely new experience for me. May the Hockey Gods help us all.
Going into Game 7, there's very little that I know for sure. And I don't just mean related to hockey. I don't think I could even tell you my home address at this point. I am, however, 100% positive about these things:
-The Joe will be absolutely crazy-nutso tonight, if it isn't already. I wouldn't be surprised if banners start falling from the rafters before the opening faceoff, like some kind of red and white rain of triumph.
-At the end of the game I will be crying, regardless of the outcome. They'll either be tears of joy or sadness, plus a little relief from having survived the ordeal at all. I'm not the slightest bit ashamed to admit this.
-Careers will be defined tonight, one way or another. There are guys on both sides who stand to cement their legacies with a victory tonight, and some who may be made eternal goats if they fail to show up to play.
-My puppy is going to be cowering in a corner before the first intermission. If she can escape the headlock I'm going to have her in, that is.
-The neighbors (if they don't already) are going to question my sanity thanks to my tendency to scream at the top of my lungs. A lot. If they thought Game 7 against Anaheim was obnoxious, they have no idea what's in store for them now.
-These guys will decide which city gets to party: Henrik Zetterberg, Chris Osgood, Nick Lidstrom, Pavel Datsyuk, Marian Hossa, Johan Franzen, Darren Helm, Evegeni Malkin, Sidney Crosby, Jordan Staal, Rob Scuderi, Marc-Andre Fleury, Paul Devorski, and Bill McCreary.
Yeah, I literally have nothing else to say. Somewhere, Dan Bylsma is finishing off his imported lucky burrito. I hope the man enjoys it, because it's been my experience that burritos are not meant to be reheated. I'm too nervous to eat dinner, so I'm going to go commence my traditional fetal position/nausea/bartering with the Hockey Gods routine until it's time for my pre-game Slurpee run. If I never post again, it's fairly safe to assume that the game killed me.
Friday June 12th, 2009...
The last 48 hours have been pretty rough. I'm not ashamed to admit that. But it's nothing compared to what tomorrow's going to be like. Got a barf bag? Better take it to work with you. Co-workers, customers, clients beware. This is not the day to mess with a Wings fan.
Road rage? Check. Irrational outbursts? Check. Random fits of sobbing? Check. Inability to control basic bodily functions? Check. Nothing is out of line tomorrow. People who don't understand may judge you. It doesn't matter. One way or another, barring a cruel, cruel torment by the Hockey Gods, it will all be over in less than 24 hours.
At this point, I really have nothing left to say. And that's the way it should be. It doesn't make a bit of difference what I want or what I do. This game's going to be decided out on the ice based on which team wants it more. It's already been demonstrated that both teams are capable of winning when they show up and play their game. All we can do is hope that the Wings are the ones who bring it at 8pm. Not 8:30 or 8:45. They need to be firing on all cylinders right from the opening faceoff. There simply is no other option. There's no tomorrow. Nothing to save their energy for. It's do or die or ten million other sports cliches and it's in their hands now.
I know a lot of people hate the Wings. On some level, I even understand it. It's for the same reasons that everyone seems to hate the Yankees. But everyone outside of Pittsburgh should be rooting for the Wings to win. Why, you ask? Because if the Wings fail, every single hockey fan is going to have to endure at least 3 seasons of being inundated with commercials showing Sidney Crosby hoisting the Cup. Remember how much you hated that stupid commercial with the Pens fan and the penalty box TV? It would be 1000 times worse. Every single time you sat down to watch a hockey game. There's no way you could escape it. It's been fairly well demonstrated that if the Wings win, you won't be forced to relive their victory five thousand times over the course of the next few years. It's something to think about, even if it makes me gag a little bit.
Over the last couple of days, I've been having periodic moments of terror in which I envision the Penguins winning. There are many reasons for this. Chief among them is the fact that weird things happen in Game 7s. The thought of the Stanley Cup being decided by a point shot that deflects off of three skates and someone's pants or one bad call or a turnover or a broken stick scares the living daylights out of me. It's part of what makes hockey such a compelling sport to watch, but it's no fun at all if you have a vested interest in one of the teams involved. And I haven't even mentioned Malkin yet. I don't care that he hasn't been putting up points the last couple of games. Every time the man touches the puck, I start to cry. There's also the Wings inexplicable failures on both sides of the special teams equation. I'd go more in depth on that aspect, but there's really nothing left to say, and I'm pretty sure you'd have to be as loony as Dominik Hasek to make sense of it anyway.
And then, occasionally, I have moments in which I envision a Wings victory and all of the glorious fun that would accompany it. I push those images out of my mind as quickly than Darren Helm chasing down a loose puck, lest I somehow offend the Hockey Gods with my presumptuousness. There are many reasons to feel confident, but let's face it, I've woken up with a bad feeling and sense of paranoia every single game day since April (Man, that seems like a long time ago.). The Joe's been good to the Wings during this postseason. Also, it helps that the game's not being played on Tuesday. (They've had 5 Tuesday night games that conflicted with my softball team's games, and they're 1-4, with the only victory coming on the day I didn't play because I was at the Joe.) Then there is Chris Osgood. And Henrik Zetterberg. And Nicklas Lidstrom. And Pavel Datsyuk. So there's reason to believe. I just refuse to allow myself to get my hopes up, because that inevitably leads to crushing despair.
Other random thoughts:
-I refuse to read the Freep tomorrow on account of being terrified of what Drew Sharp might have to say.
-Now that most people think the Pens have the edge, maybe the Wings will play well. They seem to do their best when everyone counts them out. (See Games 1, 2, and 5.)
-Mike Babcock continues to be a press conference all-star.
-There are a couple of good interviews here. Although the part in the Babcock one where the interviewer points out that the Wings have lost 3 out of the last 4 games almost made me vomit. So be prepared for that.
-It will be a miracle if I survive tomorrow.
And finally, since it seemed to work before Game 5, a cut and paste from my pre-game post:
Hockey Gods, if you're listening, just about anything is up for grabs. My car, my Scotty Bowman bobblehead, my soul, my rally rag/security blanket from last year. My Steve Yzerman jersey stays with me, but you're free to claim dibs on my firstborn child, if you're interested.
Heck, now that it's Game 7, I'll throw in the jersey plus Nick Lidstrom's used beer bottle. That's everything I have to give. It's actually kind of sad to consider the fact that most of my prized possessions are related to the Wings. I feel like this would be less weird if I were male, but it is what it is, and I can't help who I am.
Nothing pre-game tomorrow, unless something major comes up. I'll see you on the flip side. One way or another, I'll probably be crying. Joy or despair? Only the Hockey Gods know for sure.
Road rage? Check. Irrational outbursts? Check. Random fits of sobbing? Check. Inability to control basic bodily functions? Check. Nothing is out of line tomorrow. People who don't understand may judge you. It doesn't matter. One way or another, barring a cruel, cruel torment by the Hockey Gods, it will all be over in less than 24 hours.
At this point, I really have nothing left to say. And that's the way it should be. It doesn't make a bit of difference what I want or what I do. This game's going to be decided out on the ice based on which team wants it more. It's already been demonstrated that both teams are capable of winning when they show up and play their game. All we can do is hope that the Wings are the ones who bring it at 8pm. Not 8:30 or 8:45. They need to be firing on all cylinders right from the opening faceoff. There simply is no other option. There's no tomorrow. Nothing to save their energy for. It's do or die or ten million other sports cliches and it's in their hands now.
I know a lot of people hate the Wings. On some level, I even understand it. It's for the same reasons that everyone seems to hate the Yankees. But everyone outside of Pittsburgh should be rooting for the Wings to win. Why, you ask? Because if the Wings fail, every single hockey fan is going to have to endure at least 3 seasons of being inundated with commercials showing Sidney Crosby hoisting the Cup. Remember how much you hated that stupid commercial with the Pens fan and the penalty box TV? It would be 1000 times worse. Every single time you sat down to watch a hockey game. There's no way you could escape it. It's been fairly well demonstrated that if the Wings win, you won't be forced to relive their victory five thousand times over the course of the next few years. It's something to think about, even if it makes me gag a little bit.
Over the last couple of days, I've been having periodic moments of terror in which I envision the Penguins winning. There are many reasons for this. Chief among them is the fact that weird things happen in Game 7s. The thought of the Stanley Cup being decided by a point shot that deflects off of three skates and someone's pants or one bad call or a turnover or a broken stick scares the living daylights out of me. It's part of what makes hockey such a compelling sport to watch, but it's no fun at all if you have a vested interest in one of the teams involved. And I haven't even mentioned Malkin yet. I don't care that he hasn't been putting up points the last couple of games. Every time the man touches the puck, I start to cry. There's also the Wings inexplicable failures on both sides of the special teams equation. I'd go more in depth on that aspect, but there's really nothing left to say, and I'm pretty sure you'd have to be as loony as Dominik Hasek to make sense of it anyway.
And then, occasionally, I have moments in which I envision a Wings victory and all of the glorious fun that would accompany it. I push those images out of my mind as quickly than Darren Helm chasing down a loose puck, lest I somehow offend the Hockey Gods with my presumptuousness. There are many reasons to feel confident, but let's face it, I've woken up with a bad feeling and sense of paranoia every single game day since April (Man, that seems like a long time ago.). The Joe's been good to the Wings during this postseason. Also, it helps that the game's not being played on Tuesday. (They've had 5 Tuesday night games that conflicted with my softball team's games, and they're 1-4, with the only victory coming on the day I didn't play because I was at the Joe.) Then there is Chris Osgood. And Henrik Zetterberg. And Nicklas Lidstrom. And Pavel Datsyuk. So there's reason to believe. I just refuse to allow myself to get my hopes up, because that inevitably leads to crushing despair.
Other random thoughts:
-I refuse to read the Freep tomorrow on account of being terrified of what Drew Sharp might have to say.
-Now that most people think the Pens have the edge, maybe the Wings will play well. They seem to do their best when everyone counts them out. (See Games 1, 2, and 5.)
-Mike Babcock continues to be a press conference all-star.
-There are a couple of good interviews here. Although the part in the Babcock one where the interviewer points out that the Wings have lost 3 out of the last 4 games almost made me vomit. So be prepared for that.
-It will be a miracle if I survive tomorrow.
And finally, since it seemed to work before Game 5, a cut and paste from my pre-game post:
Hockey Gods, if you're listening, just about anything is up for grabs. My car, my Scotty Bowman bobblehead, my soul, my rally rag/security blanket from last year. My Steve Yzerman jersey stays with me, but you're free to claim dibs on my firstborn child, if you're interested.
Heck, now that it's Game 7, I'll throw in the jersey plus Nick Lidstrom's used beer bottle. That's everything I have to give. It's actually kind of sad to consider the fact that most of my prized possessions are related to the Wings. I feel like this would be less weird if I were male, but it is what it is, and I can't help who I am.
Nothing pre-game tomorrow, unless something major comes up. I'll see you on the flip side. One way or another, I'll probably be crying. Joy or despair? Only the Hockey Gods know for sure.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
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.
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.
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.
Awkward Quotes and Flip Flopping...
Before I get into the swing of things, I have to present you with today's horrendously out of context quote, courtesy of our very own Mike Babcock. When asked to comment on Helm's play during this playoff run, he had this to say:
Moving on...
There wasn't a whole lot going on today, on account of the fact that there was no hockey on. I know it hasn't been that long, but it seriously feels like it's been a week since Game 5. Granted, the fact that I spend most of my time online reading various hockey blogs probably doesn't help time pass any more quickly, but I just want it to be 8pm Tuesday. Objectively, I know that the extra day is fantastic in terms of getting guys like Datsyuk, Cleary, Rafalski, and Draper healthier. That does very little to ease my stress, though.
The thing that I've found most interesting/absurd about this series is the absolute reversals in media attitudes that have occurred after each and every game. Coming into the series, it seemed like the consensus was that the Pens' were destined to win, what with their extra year of experience and maturity and the Wings' troublesome injuries. After the Wings won Game 1, the general assessment was that they stole a game thanks to lucky bounces and the springy boards at the Joe, but it didn't mean much. Then they went out and won Game 2, as well. Once they were up 2-0 in the series, all of the pundits were ready to hand them their rings and crown them as a dynasty. When Pittsburgh tied up the series, all you heard was how old and tired the Wings were and how it was inevitable that the Pens would be hoisting the Cup (Yeah, typing that sentence made me gag a little bit.). Next thing you know, the NHL poster children got owned, courtesy of the Wings' powerplay, and once again, everybody's on the Wings bandwagon acting like they never doubted their ability and drive. I'm not used to seeing this level of flip-flopping unless I'm watching a Presidential campaign.
It would piss me off, because I'm one of those "stubborn" people who stands by my words, but it's actually a sad indictment of how little the mainstream media types actually know about hockey. I understand that it can be difficult to write about things with which you're not familiar. There's a reason I'm writing this blog about hockey and not designer clothes and celebrity gossip. It would just be nice to see a little effort on the part of the people who get paid to analyze the game. Starting with, say, actually watching a regular season game or three so as to have a working understanding of the basics of the game.
The best example of this is the writing of Helene Elliot of the LA Times. After Game 4, she had this to say:
We're not talking about the Super Bowl here, where the winner of one game takes all. This is a sport that requires a team to win four out of seven games to get the Cup. And along the way, there are ups and downs. There are good games and bad. And those of us who are true fans know that it means absolutely nothing until one team reaches that elusive 16th victory.
On a more local front, Drew Sharp continued on his quest to make me never pick up the Freep again. He keeps harping on the inevitability of a Game 7 in this series. While I don't deny that it's a distinct possibility, it's the last thing I want a hometown reporter writing about.
The Freep also ran an article discussing potential Conn Smythe winners, which I steadfastly refused to read. Did they learn nothing from Drew Sharp's headline during the Western Conference Finals?
I was also disappointed to hear that JoeVision had been banned. First the Mellon parties, and now this? God forbid we let the fans have a little fun. NBC's spokesperson released a quote about the business side of the decision, where revenues are based on ratings. I get that. I do. But what they don't understand is that Game 6 of the Stanley Cup Finals isn't like the series finale of ER. For major sporting events, people go out to bars to watch the game. Or they gather at a friends house. Most folks aren't meeting their friends at the bar to catch the latest episode of The Office. And the people who would've gone to JoeVision probably aren't going to stay home with their little Nielsen boxes recording every remote click that they make. They're going to leave their TVs off and head over to the Hockeytown Cafe or some other gathering place. Not to mention that the revenues from ticket sales were to be donated to charity.
I realize that I have a sentimental attachment to JoeVision since it was where I watched the Wings hoist the Cup last year. While I probably would've had a better view of the game sitting at home on my couch, I wasn't there for an HD broadcast or widescreen TV. I was there to celebrate a Wings victory with a bunch of total strangers. I'll never forget standing in the seats with confetti raining down on me from the rafters just soaking in the atmosphere. No joke, I was still picking flecks of red and white metallic stuff out of my hair a week later. I'm pretty sure there's still some of it stuck in my carpet. But I digress. Instead, I'll be at Hockeytown, in the City Theater, which makes me slightly nervous due to the fact that it was the venue in which I watched Game 5 of the Finals last year.
The bottom line today? The Wings need to win tomorrow. As long as this two day break has seemed, just imagine how epically long the wait until Friday would be. I'm not even going to discuss the other reasons why this is a must-win game. They go without saying, and are much too terrible to imagine.
"He’s so thick. He’s so hard on his stick, and he keeps coming."I know, I cringed too...before I started giggling. And, yes, I know that as a member of a population demographic not labeled 'teenage boy,' I shouldn't have such a gutter mind, but it is what it is and it gets me through the day. So anyway, apologies to Babs and Helm, because I love them both dearly and have all of the respect in the world. It's just...so awkward. It's like Tobias Funke wrote it.
Moving on...
There wasn't a whole lot going on today, on account of the fact that there was no hockey on. I know it hasn't been that long, but it seriously feels like it's been a week since Game 5. Granted, the fact that I spend most of my time online reading various hockey blogs probably doesn't help time pass any more quickly, but I just want it to be 8pm Tuesday. Objectively, I know that the extra day is fantastic in terms of getting guys like Datsyuk, Cleary, Rafalski, and Draper healthier. That does very little to ease my stress, though.
The thing that I've found most interesting/absurd about this series is the absolute reversals in media attitudes that have occurred after each and every game. Coming into the series, it seemed like the consensus was that the Pens' were destined to win, what with their extra year of experience and maturity and the Wings' troublesome injuries. After the Wings won Game 1, the general assessment was that they stole a game thanks to lucky bounces and the springy boards at the Joe, but it didn't mean much. Then they went out and won Game 2, as well. Once they were up 2-0 in the series, all of the pundits were ready to hand them their rings and crown them as a dynasty. When Pittsburgh tied up the series, all you heard was how old and tired the Wings were and how it was inevitable that the Pens would be hoisting the Cup (Yeah, typing that sentence made me gag a little bit.). Next thing you know, the NHL poster children got owned, courtesy of the Wings' powerplay, and once again, everybody's on the Wings bandwagon acting like they never doubted their ability and drive. I'm not used to seeing this level of flip-flopping unless I'm watching a Presidential campaign.
It would piss me off, because I'm one of those "stubborn" people who stands by my words, but it's actually a sad indictment of how little the mainstream media types actually know about hockey. I understand that it can be difficult to write about things with which you're not familiar. There's a reason I'm writing this blog about hockey and not designer clothes and celebrity gossip. It would just be nice to see a little effort on the part of the people who get paid to analyze the game. Starting with, say, actually watching a regular season game or three so as to have a working understanding of the basics of the game.
The best example of this is the writing of Helene Elliot of the LA Times. After Game 4, she had this to say:
"The Penguins looked fresh and energetic. The Red Wings, playing their fifth game in nine nights -- and facing a sixth in 11 nights Saturday when the finals return to Detroit -- looked like their fathers and older uncles. ... Detroit center Henrik Zetterberg, who had shut Crosby down so effectively in the first few games, was just another bearded guy out there Thursday, as helpless to stop Crosby as any fan sitting at home sentenced to watch Versus' telecast of this magnificent and potentially power-tilting performance. ... The Red Wings, as a team, may be running out of time. That's another gut feeling."Ouch. So I guess Pittsburgh's going to win then? Not so fast. Her recap of Game 5:
"Revived by a day's rest and the return of Pavel Datsyuk, the Red Wings reduced the Penguins to a bunch of petulant 2-year-olds Saturday while moving to within one victory of claiming the Stanley Cup for the second successive season. ... Waah! Sergei Gonchar slashed Datsyuk, went to the box and watched Niklas Kronwall whip a shot past a befuddled Marc-Andre Fleury at 6:11 for a 3-0 lead.I realize that that was an excessively long excerpt, but I had to include all of the "Waahs." They kind of drew me in like watching a trainwreck or starting at roadkill and I couldn't look away.
Waah! Postseason scoring leader Evgeni Malkin, rendered invisible by Detroit's relentless defensive efforts, elbowed Johan Franzen into the glass and got a penalty-box view of Brian Rafalski rifling the puck off the left post and in at 8:26.
Waah! Top-line left wing Chris Kunitz was sent off for roughing Darren Helm, and Henrik Zetterberg made him pay with a shot from the right circle at 15:40, Detroit's final goal and the last shot seen by Fleury before he was replaced by former King Mathieu Garon. ... Ready to play with the grown-ups? Or to be sent back to the sandbox?"
We're not talking about the Super Bowl here, where the winner of one game takes all. This is a sport that requires a team to win four out of seven games to get the Cup. And along the way, there are ups and downs. There are good games and bad. And those of us who are true fans know that it means absolutely nothing until one team reaches that elusive 16th victory.
On a more local front, Drew Sharp continued on his quest to make me never pick up the Freep again. He keeps harping on the inevitability of a Game 7 in this series. While I don't deny that it's a distinct possibility, it's the last thing I want a hometown reporter writing about.
The Freep also ran an article discussing potential Conn Smythe winners, which I steadfastly refused to read. Did they learn nothing from Drew Sharp's headline during the Western Conference Finals?
I was also disappointed to hear that JoeVision had been banned. First the Mellon parties, and now this? God forbid we let the fans have a little fun. NBC's spokesperson released a quote about the business side of the decision, where revenues are based on ratings. I get that. I do. But what they don't understand is that Game 6 of the Stanley Cup Finals isn't like the series finale of ER. For major sporting events, people go out to bars to watch the game. Or they gather at a friends house. Most folks aren't meeting their friends at the bar to catch the latest episode of The Office. And the people who would've gone to JoeVision probably aren't going to stay home with their little Nielsen boxes recording every remote click that they make. They're going to leave their TVs off and head over to the Hockeytown Cafe or some other gathering place. Not to mention that the revenues from ticket sales were to be donated to charity.
I realize that I have a sentimental attachment to JoeVision since it was where I watched the Wings hoist the Cup last year. While I probably would've had a better view of the game sitting at home on my couch, I wasn't there for an HD broadcast or widescreen TV. I was there to celebrate a Wings victory with a bunch of total strangers. I'll never forget standing in the seats with confetti raining down on me from the rafters just soaking in the atmosphere. No joke, I was still picking flecks of red and white metallic stuff out of my hair a week later. I'm pretty sure there's still some of it stuck in my carpet. But I digress. Instead, I'll be at Hockeytown, in the City Theater, which makes me slightly nervous due to the fact that it was the venue in which I watched Game 5 of the Finals last year.
The bottom line today? The Wings need to win tomorrow. As long as this two day break has seemed, just imagine how epically long the wait until Friday would be. I'm not even going to discuss the other reasons why this is a must-win game. They go without saying, and are much too terrible to imagine.
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