Birth of an American Hockey Fan Week Eight: NHL Vintage Collection: Greatest Goals

After taking a week to bask in the Sabres glory, I decided to tap into NHL’s Greatest Goals, as narrated by Denis Leary. Reasoning behind this casting choice: 1. It was 1996, pre-blogs, when spewing vitriol on random topics still had some cache 2. Boston fans should always narrate sports specials, it gives them something to do 3. There are no other celebrity hockey fans. Though the production values were a little bit low—at one point, another camera man filming Leary fully and unapologetically entered the frame, and I was surprised they had sprung for two cameras—they did manage to shell out for a couple of additional “celebrity” hockey fans, Dave Coulier from Full House and Dan Moriarty from (I’m assuming) open mic night at Jimmy’s Burgers and BBQ on Route 1. I’m unfortunately a little fuzzy on names and teams, which would not only be a key component of this post, but really the only thing that makes it make sense, but none of you are reading anyway, so play along.



Unlike my less-than-exciting experiment with Classic Moments a few weeks ago, this DVD proved to be highly entertaining, and although the daguerreotype-to-digital transfer for some of the older games made it difficult to distinguish between players and, well, the ice, there’s something to be said for a game winning goal in which nary a helmet flies off, as the NHL had yet to determine the correlation between getting hit in the head with a puck and massive head trauma. They trot out quite a few legends to toss in a few monosyllabic words on their famous goals, including Gretzky, Brett Hull (who, it would seem, was in the crease), and a Lemieux or deux. While some of these guys have held up quite well for having had the shit slapshotted out of them for years, some of their noses make me wonder whether their team doctor’s were even vaguely acquainted with the idea of a plumb line.

At one point Dave Coulier gave Luc Robitaille a mic and a piece of chalk and asked him to reenact the specifics of his famous goal (I forget which one), and if your DVD remote isn’t a piece of shit like mine, you can actually pause on the very moment during Robitaille’s masterful oration (“Then I went here, and he cameat me, so I went here, then I went here…”) at which Coulier regrets turning on his mic. Once Lucky Luc figured out how to use the chalk and got about halfway through drawing circles and hearts on the chalkboard, Coulier mercifully put us out of our misery.

Even worse is Leary’s attempt to recreate the famous goal during which the famous hockey player (an assist here?) flips the puck over the back of the net, to himself, to score. An amazing goal to watch, with some seriously creative expletive usage on my part, but Leary takes about 4-5 tries on clear ice only to fail miserably, and a truer anti-smoking announcement has never been filmed.

Perhaps the greatest joy for me was the introduction of a move called a spin-o-rama, joylessly defined by Wikipedia as “a player completing several tight circles with the puck fully under control of his stick, eluding pursuing opponents who cannot keep up or intercept the player.” There was an entire category devoted to spin-o-ramas, kicked off with Valerie Kamenski’s shot between his feet while in some sort of tailspin. This move is the wheelie, the slam dunk, the Called Shot of hockey. Including this maneuver once in every game would guarantee that even the Predators would pack the stands. This move blew my top, agaped my jaw, warmed the cockles of my heart.

All in all, a worthy 46 minutes and royalty nickel for Denis Leary, and I learned how to pronounce Yzerman.

Birthing Status: Four Centimeters

Watching Hockey Night in Canada

And Jesus, is it fun.

It's the Flames and Canucks, and the beautiful thing for an East Coast hockey fan whose watching these teams play is that it's a showcase of players you've always heard about and don't get to see much, along with guys who you loved at one point but you haven't seen in ages.

Kristen Huselius, Tony Amonte, Brad Stuart, Daymond Lankow, Sami Salo, Alex Tanguay, Roman Hamirlik, Brian Smolinski, it's like a who's who of "What the hell happened to that guy I liked?"

Fuck, you even get to see Rory Fitzpatrick, which will be fun till the day he retires.

As it stands, Calgary is leading 3-0 in an unfriendly building, and they look very, very good.

With all the emphasis on speed and rolling lines these days, it's fun to watch Calgary (who is also plenty fast), and their shotblocking and tough forechecking style that doesn't look too different from the one that got them to the seventh game of the Stanley Cup finals back in the last gasps of the "old NHL." I'm surprised to see that the teams are tied in shots, when in real time, it seems like Calgary would be beating them soundly in that department.

That Kipersoff makes it look easy, don't he?

Leaving Boston now.

And it can't be soon enough as I'm taking a train from South Station, which is downwind from the TD Banknborth Garden and the stinky, stinky Bruins.

Whew!

I'm gonna light a match or two, then head out of town.

Now all there is left to do root for both the Rangers and Isles to make the playoffs.

More local teams in the tournament, the greater my chances of seeing live playoff action.

Anybody wanna take me to the playoffs?

I don't like the Habs any more than the rest of you...

...but this is pretty good:



Elmo is pretty clearly hepped up on goofballs (and probably helium) but I'd say his prediction is right on.

I'm in Boston- buy me a beer?

Well, as it happens, the lady had to travel to Boston this week for work, and as my most recent freelance assignment over at Court TV just ended, I decided to tag along and catch up on my drinking during the daytime.

Unsurprisingly, I found myself in a sports bar outside the Garden, and walked over to the Bruins pro shop, hoping for some kind of "Christ, I know it's embarassing to wear this stuff, but look how cheap it is!" sale.

Sure, the Bruins collapsed in epic fashion this month, (notwithstanding last night's nice win against Ottawa) but that doesn't mean that I'll look askance at an opportunity to snag a new spoked B hat for 50 percent off. As it turned out, the sales were on, but there wasn't much I wanted in there, although I admired the balls they had in asking 5 bucks for a shitty sticker of that awful old mustard bear.

But the Bruins are hosting the Penguins tomorrow, and I thought I'd see how much tickets were, and sure enough I scored some 10 dollar tickets up in the nosebleeds. Once I get in, I'm guessing I'll pretty much be able to pick my seat.

I've never seen Sidney Crosby skate, I'm interested in seeing Bruin prospects Mark Stuart and Peter Kalus stretch their legs a bit, and let's be honest, when NHL hockey costs less than a matinee of Wild Hogs, you gotta take notice.

I know we have unsuccessfully attempted the American Hockey Fan "Buy me a Beer" challenge before, but I think it's time for one more crack at it. In the past, Both Jen and I have given out our seat numbers in the hope that someone would stop by with a beer in exchange for a personal shoutout on the site.

However, as I may be moving around once I get to the game, here's a step by step guide to how you will be able to find me to purchase me a beer:

1) Enter the upper deck of the TD Banknorth Garden
2) Find a male in his 30's who isn't wearing Penguins gear
3) It'll probably be me.

A Molson would be ideal, but whatever they have is fine.

See you tomorrow!

Well, the HDTV finally kicked in.

It took me a few days to figure it out, seeing as the cable box and the television need to be on the right settings, it requires new cables, new connections and when you consider that this TV has enough inputs on it that with the correct set of wires, I can use it to travel through time, it can get complicated.

Today, it was to be my job to call the cable company and threaten to call Direct TV, an action that was sure to cause the Time Warner representative to tremble in fear at the thought of a black mark on their heretofore spotless reputation for stellar customer service. Of course, they also might just decide to send me though a automated telephone menu so rigorous that it would solve nothing, waste my entire afternoon, and lead me to a level of frustration so intense that I would literally begin looking though the stationary drawer for a mailer envelope sturdy enough to safely deliver the customer service department of Time Warner what it truly deserved, a tightly coiled human turd.

So I was sitting there, with my HDTV cable box still thinking that I had a square television screen, tired of poring over owners manuals and at the edge of despair. With remote in hand, I did what all American males do when logic has failed them, and started pressing random buttons.

Once of the buttons I chose was the "source" button on my TV remote, and all of a sudden, the clouds parted, the horizontal grey bars disappeared, and High Definition television arrived. Of course, this was a bit of a mixed blessing, as the sample HD channel I was watching happened to be ABC, which was tuned to "The View."

It was startling, to say the very least.

If you aren't used to watching high definition broadcasting in the first place, having it instantly sear across your field of vision in the form of the horrible spectre of Rosie O'Donnell, Barbra Walters, Joy Behar, and that other witchy little see-you-next-Tuesday in full crisp, horrifying clarity, well- it's enough to give anyone the heebie jeebies.

"The View," indeed.

Sounds like a Japanese horror movie.

Despite the fact that I was staring directly into every detailed bulge and wrinkle of these horrifyingly orange women, I was so thrilled that my HDTV was finally working, that it provided me with enough residual, pent-up joy to help me fight through the horror of the images currently unfolding before my eyes. With a song in my heart, I shrieked like a wounded animal, bayed out a few repetitions of "THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU"and gleefully fumbled my way to the cable remote and the relative safety of the Discovery channel in HD, which by the way, also fucking rocks.

But it's nothing compared to hockey.

Hockey in High Definition is really something extraordinary.

Let me put it this way- I'm watching the Boston Bruins get the shit kicked out of them by the Pittsburgh Penguins on a replay of Sunday's NBC game on the Universal HD channel, and I gotta tell you, I am loving it.

I love the Boston Bruins, hate the Pittsburgh Penguins and I can't take my eyes of this goddamn screen.

In high definition, the Bruins are more than just a bored, disinterested, passionless hockey team, they are like bored, disinterested, passionless house guests.

It's almost indescribably awesome.

Thank God the Bruins suck.

If they were any good this year, I'd never leave the house.

Guest Blogger Jack Kukoda: "I am classy."

Hey guys- it's time once again for a guest column from Buffalo Sabres fan Jack Kukoda, who is upset about the bad reputation of Sabres fans around the league. In typical Buffalo fan fashion, he has decided to get drunk, take off his shirt and yell about it.

Enjoy!

--Ritch

How to be a Buffalo Sabres Fan
By Jack Kukoda

There’s been a lot of talk on the web recently about how drunk and obnoxious Sabres fans are, and since my column last week didn’t do much to refute this, I decided to educate and enlighten you all with an impassioned essay, extolling the virtues of the city of Buffalo and its fans. It would be entertaining, informative and maybe, just maybe, would raise the level of discourse among hockey fans across North America.

Then I got about halfway through and realized it was really hard to write elegantly and thoughtfully, so in honor of the home-and-home series between the Sabres and Leafs, (starting tonight at HSBC arena) I decided to just talk a whole bunch of shit about Canadians.

I am classy.

Here goes.

Last week I forgot to add one thing that’s true of all Sabres fans. We fucking hate Leafs fans. Four times a year, they invade the HSBC arena to cheer on their history-rich, championship-poor team (at least since Lyndon Johnson was President.) They do this because Toronto is only 90 miles from Buffalo and tickets to Leafs' home games are so coveted and expensive that only Ontario's most prominent fur-traders can afford them.

As such, after getting a special dispensation from the Queen of England to cross the border, these Leafs fans drive over the Peace Bridge and make Sabres games absolutely hellish for the local fans. And fuck all that noise you've heard about Canadians being polite, because it's not true. They'll talk shit to 8 year olds. In particular, they have one favorite insult they like to use, over and over again.

Since I was a kid, dozens of Canadians have delighted in telling me that "Buffalo is the armpit of America."

No matter how many flaws you point out in their native city or country, that is their only retort:

"Buffalo is the armpit of America!"

“Yeah, but you’re from Oshawa, for Christ’s sake.”

“Armpit.”

“You put ketchup on macaroni cheese.”

“Armpit.”

“In terms of cultural trends, your entire country is three years behind Des Moines, Iowa!”

“Armpit.”

By the way, that last one isn't an exaggeration. Watching Canadian television is like unearthing a long lost time capsule. Whenever I'm at my parents' house and flip past a Canadian channel, waves of nostalgia wash over me. "Wow, jam shorts? I haven't seen those in years… huh- I used to have a band collar shirt just like that....Wait, Nickelback is still alive? That does not seem possible."

Occasionally, a Canadian will have another comeback, but they are equally unconvincing. Don't give me any of that shit about free health insurance or natural beauty or how America is an aggressor on the world stage, because I'm not impressed.

We're talking about what's important here: pop culture. If your entire country can't produce a single decent sitcom or movie, you have no right to exist. At least Mexico made Pan's Labyrinth. What have you done since Kids in the Hall(one of my absolute favorite shows of all time). Royal Canadian Air Farce? This Hour has 22 Minutes? Those shows make Mind of Mencia look like Masterpiece fucking Theatre. Think about that while you're eating poutine or riding your moose to work or whatever the hell it is you do up there when you're not invading HSBC arena or shopping at our malls for clothes that won't be available at the Eaton Centre for another 12 years. Oh, Leafs’ fans, you make me so mad! And don't get me started on Habs fans. You're about as French as my asshole is Portuguese, so drop the whole fucking act and broadcast your games in English already.

Okay, I feel like this has definitely opened an intelligent and thoughtful dialogue with our neighbors to the north. I look forward to hearing their responses. Am I a hero for taking the first step and extending an olive branch to my fellow hockey fans?

The answer is yes.

Just signed up for the hockey package.

You heard me.

After my nearly-season long plight on RCN cable, which doesn't offer the package, the Hockey Gods intervened and broke our old television. Soon, we were proud owners of an HDTV, and the combination of my near-constant whining about the hockey package and the fact that RCN cable has rotten pay per-view service all added up to a hello to Time Warner Cable, and a goodbye to productivity.

Of course, there is a certain amount of suckiness to the fact that the instant that I get the hockey package the Bruins irrevocably slide into oblivion.

Ahh well.

If they had to break me, like they seem to every year, this year they had the common decency to do it execution-style. They needed four wins against the Rangers and Habs, and instead decided to well, not score any goals in the first two games.

Still, I was cheered up by this Youtube from my pal Jack, depicting Buffalo Sabre (and future "have another donut" Devils coach Jim Schonfeld in a memorable collision with the Bruins Wayne Cashman.

Enjoy- I'll be busy watching every every single hockey game that's on tonight.

Any suggestions?

Birth of an American Hockey Fan Week Seven: The Live Game

First off, to satisfy the perhaps twos and threes of you out there who might be wondering whether a beer was in fact purchased for me at last week's game, the answer is "No, you ungrateful, post-grubbing bastards." Had my ears not been filled with the sounds of my own dry, parched cough and the constant swish of the puck hitting the back of the Devils net, I'm sure crickets dropping pins could have been heard. I don't want to get all holistic and godlike here, but if one of you had bought me a beer, the Devils wouldn't have lost.

Thanks to a healthy penchant for gambling/the timely victory of my alma mater's hockey team over the Earl's, my Devils-Pens tickets were begrudgingly gratis, and after following Ben's treasure map-like instructions to get to my awaiting NJTransit Chariot, we were all set. The first thing you notice about the Continental Arena is that the Devils are still kinda riding the high from their last Stanley Cup win, as evidenced by the appearance of "2001-02 Stanley Cup Champs" on every available surface; we were even given pictures of the 2001-02 Devils as we dejectedly left the arena, the sporting event giveaway equivalent of the cutout face mask on the back of the cereal box (I gave mine to Ben to put in his hope chest). I understand the importance of team history, but those are some seriously dated laurels to be resting on, and though I supose it would be bad for team morale to just plaster Martin Brodeur's face and name all over the stadium instead, they should probably think about mixing it up a bit.

Speaking of which, it's a testament to L'Homme himself that he can allow three goals and still leave the game batting away sexual favors like flies. Though the first period went by in a haze of nacho cheese and crushing disappointment, as I was granted neither a fight, a goal, or really, any excitement whatsoever, once we got to the second period and Brodeur started being all "After you..." to the puck, things picked up. I was granted a pretty sweet fight that utilized both the horizontal and the vertical axis, I used both the terms "one-timer" and "Howitzer", though the second was more in a spelling bee-ish type manner, as in, "If that slapshot had been going at a higher velocity, it would be considered a Howitzer," and I got to see a Penguins fan kicked out of our section based solely on the judicial writ of "a lot of guys in Devils jerseys pointing at him."

I'm not much one for hype, but considering how much fellating's been done on Sidney Crosby and Brodeur's behalfs, these guys really stood up pretty well. Brodeur's got a certain grace to him even in the face of defeat, though the home ice advantage of having your name splayed across 10,000 hairy Italian chests probably helps, and Crosby, well, the Kid can skate, I'll tell you that. Sid took some serious beatings, managing to get the shit kicked out of him by the opposing team, his own team, and the puck itself, which is pretty impressive considering those are the only three things on the ice, but aside from a short and completely justified temper tantrum, he held it together pretty well.

Birthing Status: Pissed That No One Bought Me a Beer

Wow.

Charles Star, my buddy who likes college hockey, particularly Cornell, just hipped me to this, the game winning goal from the WCHA's final five tournament, and it's a dandy, not only for the shot, but for the rinkwide bank shot of a pass.

I saw Gretzky score a goal on a dump in like that back when he was with the Oilers, and if you have a forward with some wheels, you can really catch the opposition with their pants down on a play like this.

Anyway, check it out, it's cool:



I mean, holy cow.

Oh, and just for fun , here's Neal Broten's goal that many were comparing it to:



As I well know, Charles hates the the University of Minnesota, but he was kind enough to pass the link along because (and I didn't know this part) he also hates North Dakota. I'll tell you, whatever college hockey lacks in speed and skill, it more than makes up for in hate.

Hockey needs hatred, and that was just what I needed to see, after wasting my Saturday night watching the Rangers set up a pup tent in the Bruins' crease, and just hammer in pucks all night long.

The story of the pre-game was Aaron Ward, who was apparently traded from the Rangers to the Bruins after an argument with Jaromir Jagr where Ward questioned Jagr's leadership. While Jagr is unquestionable a crappy leader, Aaron Ward isn't coming off much better.

According to today's Boston Globe, ""Zdeno Chara and Aaron Ward, Boston's top defensive pairing, were on the ice for four of New York's seven goals. Chara threw one hit and has yet to fight this season."

Jagr is definately a Prima Donna, kind of soft, and a crappy captain. Chara has also yet to prove that he can motivate his teammates and is probably only the captain because Patrice Bergeron was too young at the beginning of the season, but what the fuck, Aaron Ward?

You're playing your old team that you left after leveling an accusation of crappy leadership. So how about stepping up to the plate? Jagr had three assists last night on the power play- what did you do?

Still, if you start pointing fingers at guys on the Bruins last night, not many people are going to come off well.

This was bad, but not the end yet. Right now, the Bruins must beat Montreal twice, in regulation. Then they face the Rangers again, and must rise to the challenge.

This is what the Bruins must do if they are to maintain any chance of making the playoffs finishing ahead of Florida.

Just keeping the expectations realistic here.

Huge comeback win for the Bruins!

Well, I was scoreboard watching tonight, and while the Bruins have a long road ahead of them, they picked up two HUGE points on everybody who matters to them in the East tonight with a big 3rd period comeback and shootout win against the Caps.

Add that to both the Devils and Senators doing their part to vanquish the Canes and Isles in regulation and that adds up to the Black and Gold elevating their status from "totally fucked" to a respectable "pretty much still fucked."

You know what that is?

Progress.

Also, with their next four games against the Rangers and Habs, who are both solidly on the bubble, it's looking like they have their destiny in their own hands, at least for the next two weeks.

I'll close with this- if you're a Bruins, Rangers, Leafs, Canes, Isles, or Habs fan and you need another good reason to hate Gary Bettman and his unbalanced schedule this year, well- answer this question:

Wouldn't it be nice to play the Edmonton Oilers right about now?

That explains it

I'm sure Jen will be weighing in soon with her reactions to last night's Devils/Pens game, but allow me to pre-empt some of her inevitable ball-breaking.

You see, I discovered the reason why the Devils were shut out on home ice for the first time this year. It's not easy to win a game when your hall of fame goaltender is clowning around behind the opposition bench:



Come on, Marty...knock that off.

Worst Hockey Items Available on eBay: Volume One.

A postcard featuring a caricature of Ray Bourque playing golf.




Yep, this is for sale. Don't get me wrong, I loved Ray Bourque, but really? A postcard of a CARICATURE of Ray Bourque? Playing golf? Not a photo, not playing hockey, not even WEARING A HOCKEY UNIFORM?

Yeah- I'd like to place a bid- on the huge balls you must obviously possess to ask someone for money for that. I mean Jesus, Christ. The seller goes on to say that it is available in "MINT CONDITION!"

Really? I suppose that is pretty rare seeing as anyone who owned one of these would certainly have creased it's pristine edges by throwing it directly into the trash. The opening bid for this piece of shit is 77 cents, by the way. Get it?! What that means is, even if the Bruins hadn't retired Phil Esposito's number this goddamn thing would still cost 7 cents too much.

Speaking of which, look at this awful fucking thing:




That's right, it's "Vintage" Phil Esposito skate straps, or as they are better known, "6 inches of trim from a 30 year old carpet sample."

All yours for a mere 18 dollars.

Oh, and Jen's at the Devils/Penguins game tonight at the Meadowlands, her first since becoming an official AHF.

If you're going to the game, buy her a beer, willya?

Coaches Corner with Don Cherry- March 10

This is a pretty great Coaches Corner, with great points about hitting, fighting, Jordan Staal and pretty sweet flashback to 1999.

American Hockey Fan's Buy me Beer v 2.0

All right folks, this was attempted once before my tenure here, to let's-just-go-with "lukewarm response", but I have to assume that it's because most of you don't like Ritch, Ben, or Jack, and not because you don't believe in the principle of the thing. So here you have it- American Hockey Fan's Buy me Beer, Take Two.

I, Jen Adams, your intrepid guide through the birthing process of an American Hockey Fan and all-around decent, thirsty human being, will be attending my first professional hockey game (Devils-Penguins) since becoming an AHF tomorrow night, at Continental Arena in East Rutherford, NJ. I'm a girl who enjoys a tipple or two, and I like my live pro sports like I like my men- mashed, fermented, then poured into a 16-20 oz cup with minimal foam. It's not that AHF readers owe me a beer- I write my weekly post out of the love of the game, natch- but I watched Rob Lowe get his balls shaved for you people. I'm just saying.

The first fan of this blog (or their representative) to bring a cold draft beer to me in section 231, Row 24,seat 10(I'll be the girl loudly screaming generic encouragements at the Devils, such as "Put the puck into the boundaries of the net!" and "Skate faster than the opposing team so that you might score more points!") at any time during the Devils-Penguins game on March 14, 2007 will win the following (optional AND paltry!) prizes, adapted from Ritch's original bounty:

1) At least one (1) picture with me (that will be published on this blog), in which I will use Photoshop's "blur" tool in order to make myself appear freakishly deformed, thereby making you look more attractive in comparison. I can also testify to you being a "totally doable solid 7.5", even if you are, in fact, completely not.

2) At least one (1) paragraph (published on this blog) of effusive, probably somewhat forced praise, saluting you (or your business or project) for your courage, good taste and excellent choice of lagers.

3) Though I'll be rooting for the Devils out of loyalty to/fear of Ben, I'm not all that tied to them, so if you're a Penguins fan, I will happily shift allegiances midgame. If you're a Devils fan, then forget I just wrote that.

Think of the indelible impression you can leave on a nascent hockey fan. If a drop of free alcohol passes these lips thanks to one of you, the sport of hockey will have gained a lifelong fan, and it will all be because of you and the fine people of the Molson Brewing Company. It's in your hands, people.

"Stevens checks the musky into the boards!"

Just imagine the conversation:

"I'm the captain."

"Actually, on this boat, I'm the captain."

"I'm the captain."

"Yes, but again, while we're on the boat--"

[crunch]

"OOF!"

[splash]

[pause]

"I'm the captain."

Birth of an American Hockey Fan Week Six: Classic Clips

1970 Stanley Cup clincher by Bobby Orr

The nine year-old girl in me is simply delighted by this clip. Fathers out there, if you’re trying to raise a young American Hockey Female of your own, I’d start with this clip, and go light on the Bobby Orr/Stanley Cup background explanation. Simply point your young blossom at the screen, press play, and say “Look, hockey players can fly!” She’ll either fall in love with the sport, or become deeply suspicious of Canadians.

Stevens flattening Lindros

OK, whoever described this as a “flattening” and got my hopes up, you need to leave the commune more often, hippie. I’ve thrown harder punches than that at Ann Taylor Loft.

Yzerman’s Double OT goal

Without having seen the first seventy or so minutes of this game, and having spent nearly that long figuring out how one would pronounce “Yzerman”, all I can muster up is this: “Great shot”.

Pronger’s pass to Karya through Lemieux’s legs

This one was suggested by Ritch himself, in an attempt to turn a green young hockey fan against a hockey legend who led his country to a gold medal despite a debilitating hip injury. You’d think as a Bruins fan you’d try to stay away from all bad karma-inducing practices, but hey, to each his own.

Lemieux Turtles

A newbie’s thought process on this clip, entitled “Claude ‘Turtle’ Lemieux” by YouTube:

“Jesus, how many Lemieuxs are there? It kind of contradicts the name.”“
Why is this one named Turtle?”
“Ah. Gotcha.”

Brett Hull’s 1999 Stanley Cup goal

Upon careful review, I really believe there are a lot of factors that need to be taken into account here, beyond the contested shot. For starters, the logic behind the seemingly arbitrary distinction of three consecutive shots constituting possession. Second, there’s the matter of crowd mentality having a major affect on officials during the review of footage, adding a strong element of human error to what should be a fair and balanced decision. Third…fuck it. HE WAS IN THE CREASE.NO GOAL.*

* I may be new enough to the Sabres booster club to be somewhat objective, but have you seen the size/BAC of some of those fans? I’m not stupid.

It’s weird, the thing that people love most about hockey(Excluding Ritch, whose #1 most enjoyed attribute is “the unfailing heartbreak provided by Boston-area teams")—the fact that the tide of the game can change at any second—is the exact thing that makes it somewhat dull to watch the classics in clip form. Without the investment provided by three hours spent absorbing yourself in the game, and without any particularly strong anti-communist stance, it’s hard to get jazzed for any singular outcome to most of these games/clips. Go figure.

Birthing Status: Trying to Remember my Lamaze Breathing

I just saw an ad for Chili's-

-in which a group of young hip partiers sat down for a meal at Chili's, and one of them confidently says "I could work at Chili's- I'm pretty good on the grill."

His friends look at each other incredulously. One of their expressions says:

"What!? How could a mortal man, without putting in the years of time and training, possibly ascend the mountain of culinary excellence that is Chili's?"

And another friend's expression, slightly angrier this time, seems to say:

"Does this dickhead think he can actually flip a burger, put a slice of cheese on it , and pour mushrooms, onion sauce AND salsa over it when completed? Challenge not the Gods young Icarus, for you shall fly too high to the sun!"

Sensing their doubt, he tries another tack-

"Oh- I can cook!"

Again, his friend's eyes roll, this time to the eyes of their waitress, who shares a "what a deluded asshole" look with them. Even she knows the truth.

They all laugh.

I was really hoping the commerical would keep going for 10 more seconds so the guy could say- "No, seriously, It's not that hard. You just read the shit off of these laminated cheat sheets they have pinned behind the grill. I know the guy who works here. In addition to this fry-cook gig, he sells crystal meth out of his van behind the restaurant. I heard him talking about how he once put together both a Mesquite Chicken Salad and a Southwestern Cobb while getting a handjob from a single mother. So, you know- go fuck yourselves. By the way, are you gonna finish those poppers? They came here frozen in a truck from Cleveland. You know that, right?"

Games to watch tonight?

Rangers-Islanders.

Might not a sellout but it'll definitely be a war.

Also, Penguins and Devils clash in what could be a playoff preview, and thanks to this bizarre schedule, marks Brian Rolston's return to Boston for the first time since signing with Minnesota, what- 3 years ago? He was a fan favorite, and if there's a crowd at the new Garden, I bet they give him a nice welcome.I also bet he scores a shorthanded goal.

They really should hold a charity all-star game pitting the players that the Islanders let walk out of town for a song against the ones the Bruins did. Come to think of it, the Blackhawks could put a pretty strong team on the ice for that contest as well.

Oh, and speaking of bad ads, anybody else sick of watching those Goddamn Rock-em sock-em robots Dodge ads on Versus? OK- I get it, hockey, you have exactly one corporate sponsor.

If they'd branch out a little, I wouldn't even mind watching another Chili's ad.

Guest Blogger Jack Kukoda: "For a drunken and sleep-deprived hockey fan, there is little solace in logic."

Jack Kukoda is the comedian responsible for, among other things, the very funny website Kukoda.com . He's also a Buffalo Sabres fan, something I stopped holding against him the moment he got the hockey package and started inviting me over to watch Hockey Night in Canada on his roommate's HDTV.

At one point, we talked about how AHF contributor Jen was a new Buffalo fan, and how it might be a good idea to provide a little backstory from a longtime Sabres follower. A lightning-quick 3 months later, he came through like a champ.

Enjoy!

--Ritch


How To Be a Buffalo Sabres Fan

By Jack Kukoda

I know, I know. It’s a little late in the season to give anyone advice on how to be a Sabres fan, especially with the Sabres in first place in the NHL. But before you go calling me a front-runner or a bandwagon jumper, I should point out that Ritch asked me to write this column months ago. Due to a combination of being busy and just an overall desire to be a prick to Ritch, I didn’t get a chance to tackle it until now. Besides, I wouldn’t be a true Buffalo fan if I weren’t just a little bit of a front-runner.

There are two hallmarks to every true Sabres fan: unbridled, irrational optimism matched only by devastating, irrational pessimism. These are the yin and yang of the Buffalo fan, existing simultaneously and in harmony with each other, yet locked in a constant struggle for superiority. The Buffalo sports fan is perhaps the most bi-polar of any fan out there, and like anyone suffering a chemical imbalance; their emotions can turn on a dime.

When things are going well for our team, you’ll know about it. We’ll travel to your team’s arena and make drunken asses of ourselves. We’ll call up sports radio shows to proclaim the Sabres’ dominance, with nary a question or comment for the host! We’ll record a new version of the song “We’re Gonna Win That Cup” every few years, despite only making it to the Stanley Cup Finals twice in franchise history. We’ll do all that and more.

But when things go wrong for the Sabres-such as the prospect of losing our captain for the season-we’ll sulk, proclaim the season lost, and blame God, the national sports media and Canadian-born referees. Sometimes a combination of all three. And yes, most Sabres fans believe Canadians are out to screw us at every turn. Same goes for Bettman.

I'll grant you that fans of all teams are full of enthusiasm when things are going well and hopelessly depressed when they aren't, but what separates the Buffalo fan is the absolute extremes.

Perhaps the following anecdote will illustrate my point:

The last time the Sabres went to the Stanley Cup Finals, back in ‘99, I camped out at the arena overnight with a bunch of friends to try and get tickets. We were all home from college for the summer, and with no real responsibilities besides our shitty summer jobs, we threw a party for every playoff game.

As soon as the Sabres eliminated the Maple Leafs in the Conference Finals, we rushed down to the arena. We even brought the pony keg with us that we had bought for that night’s game. By the time we got downtown, there were already a couple hundred fans camped out. Everyone was celebrating and drinking so we joined right in.

I distinctly remember a palpable spirit of camaraderie among the crowd as total strangers shared food and beer all night. It was like a Phish concert, if Phish concerts didn’t totally suck. When the ticket booth finally opened in the morning, everyone started chanting “Let’s Go Buff-a-lo” as we formed an orderly line.

When they sold out of tickets after about fifteen minutes, the parking lot nearly erupted in a riot. Within seconds, our collective mood had changed. Fans started pelting the ticket booth with meatball subs, 2 liter bottles of “pop,” which is what we call soda in Buffalo, and other garbage. The police, who had ignored us all night while we drank from a keg on the sidewalk in the middle of downtown Buffalo, started inching closer to the crowd. Our Woodstock had become an Altamont. Just when I thought we had reached the nadir of our collective savagery, two shirtless, mustachioed-men starting fighting each other in the middle of the line. After that, the police broke things up and everyone went home, dejected and angry.

Suddenly, we hated the Sabres, or at least their management, for getting our hopes up only to smash them by only releasing a limited number of tickets at the box office. We found out later that the Sabres had in fact released quite a few tickets, just not at the box office, and we would have had better luck calling up Ticketmaster that morning or going to ticket outlet at a grocery store. But that didn’t make us feel much better, because for a drunken and sleep-deprived hockey fan, there is little solace in logic.

Perhaps that wasn’t the best story to tell, especially since I had hoped to use this column to debunk recent perceptions of Sabres fans as a drunken louts.

In truth, most of us are erudite, well mannered, and in my case, possess abs that most men would kill for.

I’ll try to make that clearer next time.

For a first hand look at the psyche of the Sabres fan, check out bfloblog, especially the open threads during the games. It's like watching the game with a bunch of funny, knowledgeable, smartass hockey fans from Buffalo. And if that doesn't sound like fun to you, then you're goddamn communist.

Here's a blast from the past-

Hannu Toivonen and Peter Budaj facing off in a goalie fight back in their AHL days.

Ahem.

Back in Budaj's AHL days.



Winner gets to not only start for the big club, but ruin the others playoff hopes.

It's basically a six team scrum as the Rangers, Islanders, Hurricanes, Bruins, Canadiens and Leafs fight for the 7th and 8th playoff spots. Still, all season, every single one of those teams have combined to hand the Sabres a whopping 6 losses.

I'm really sure one of them can do it four times, by themselves in two weeks.

I'm depressed.

That first Colorado goal tonight shoulda been reviewed.

Woulda, coulda, shoulda...

Birth of an American Hockey Fan Week Six: Just a Regular Old Game

I decided it was a good time to check in and see where I stood in terms of applying all this delicious knowledge I’ve been acquiring, and what better time than the Sabres first post-trade game against the Canadiens on Friday night (Tuesday’s slaughter against the Leafs didn’t count, the locker room still smelled vaguely of Biron). Having been downgraded to one of the smaller screens at the local sports bar- if there’d been one more spring training scrimmage on, I think we would have been relegated to an old computer monitor in the back- the action wasn’t as visceral as past games, but the refs weren’t as fun either, in terms of allowing fights. I suppose getting inadvertently punched in the face a few times can do that to a man.

Two Sabres goals within the first two minutes was some pretty potent foreshadowing of the kind of game it was going to be, and I had to make peace with the fact that if I wanted to take a piss, I would likely miss at least three goals. Two beers in, I waxed a little philosophic (internally, waxing philosophic out loud at my sports bar is prohibited)- is it better to have a high scoring game, with more moments of elation, or does that dilute the joy of a goal? Two more beers, a glass of whiskey, and a Sabres victory later, it turned out I didn’t give a shit.

I was disappointed not to see Conklin go in for his trial by fire; I either want to see this guy go down in flames or carried off the ice on Slavic shoulders, anything in between would be a letdown. Wondering how wide the gap would have to be before Lindy Ruff would let him try to win the crowd/his freedom proved pointless, as the Habs wouldn’t roll over and die spectacularly enough to allow it. I was definitely feeling more comfortable watching this game than I have been in previous weeks, and I think this was the first time I managed not to give bystanders the impression of "Baby’s First Hockey Game". Though my slang usage is more at the "hat trick" than the "dump and chase" level, I’m feeling adventurous, and when I attend my first official NHL game as an American Hockey Fan next week, my goal is to have enough command of my lexicon to be able to intersperse the appropriate swear words.

In the meantime, this week’s theme is "Classic Hockey Plays/Games", starting with a "Miracle on Ice" as an amuse-bouche. I’ve got the Sabres/Stars Cup game in my YouTube queue, but here’s where I need a little help from AHF readers. What plays are considered to be seminal/controversial moments in the sport of hockey? Line ‘em up for me and I’ll watch ‘em.

Birthing Status: Bitching at the Baby’s Father for Getting me Into This

Hullo Bert!

Thanks again to Christy at Behind the Jersey for scaring up this pic from the Detroit news. That sublime bit of photo-editing was all me.

Back from vacation.

Well, I'm back from a quick jaunt to the great state of Texas, where I celebrated the NHL trade deadline at opening night of the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo. My lady grew up there, and I know the trade deadline is exciting and all, but if you get an opportunty for 75 degree weather in February, you'd get the hell out of New York too.

On the day of the deadline, I walked around the rodeo in my cowboy gear, and (with apologies to the last place Houston Aeros) ruminated on sports that are more popular down there than hockey.

Here's an example of just one of them:



Still, as great as the food is in Texas, I'm happy to be back in a state that is a little less excited about it's own shape on the map.

That said, I do have a few thoughts about the trade deadline, which I'll keep short and sweet:

-With the Guerin deal, the San Jose Sharks are doing their best to look like the 2002 Boston Bruins. Bill Guerin rejoins Joe Thornton and Kyle McClaren. Get ready for this crew to make an impact on the league. Or at the very least, maybe they'll finally kill Richard Zednick.

-Speaking of Guerin maybe I owe John Davidson an apology. I've shit on him before, but if the strategy of signing veteran all stars to a) hope they still have some left in the tank, and b) if not, selling them off to desperate contenders for top draft picks was an intentional ploy, he may be quietly pulling off a Pittsburgh-esque turnaround. When you add what he's earned from dumping Tkachuk and Guerin to last year's #1 overall pick Eric Johnson, emerging sniper David Backes, goalie Manny Legace, and serviceable 2nd line winger Brad Boyes, you have to like how this team is rebuilding.

-And speaking of apologies and Zednick, why not an apology for Garth Snow? Sure, he's is under a fair amount of pressure to make a big deal to get him into the playoffs as a rookie GM, but with the team getting hot at the right time, and Mike Sillinger quietly making a case as the most underrated two-way player in the game, picking up Zednik was nice and Ryan Smyth was a COUP. Given the fact that the Isles have become as solid a team as they have, (what was it- two regulation losses in February?) the addition of these veterans could lead the Islanders to stun somebody in the first round. This team is looking really good, and the less people talk about them, the better they'll be. Lucky for them, they play on Long Island. It seems like there are more Houston Aeros fans these days.

-Atlanta picks up Tkachuk and Zhitnik? Did Waddell sign everything on his scouting report that set off his spellchecker?

-And Bertuzzi goes to Detroit. I guess they figured if any group of people wouldn't mind someone almost murdering a member of the Colorado Avalanche, it'd be Red Wing fans.

As always, thanks to Ben and Jen for picking up the slack while I was running around the country.

Is that how that works?

Birth of an American Hockey Fan Week Five Point Five:The Trade Deadline

I'd like to think that the NHL Trade Deadline coming so early in my education might offer up some sort of naive protective shield, sort of a blissful ignorance thing going on, but there's no flowers for Algernon today- I know a bad, or at the very, very, net-is-half full best, questionable move when I see one. The loss of Marty Biron this afternoon and the subsequent pickup of a goalie that no one can describe to me without spitting does not bode well* for my Sabres.

But think of poor Biron (though not often. He's a Flyer now, and must learn to be ignored). Impending free agency aside, poor guy's putting in a solid backup netminding performance, on his way to the playoffs and a possible Cup win, then one day Darcy Regier pulls him aside, pats him on the ass (I'm taking a few poetic liberties here), and condemns him to the bottom of the conference. I know rough times are ahead for Sabres fans, and woe to the man in charge of massaging Ryan Miller down at the end of his now incredibly-full days, but have some compassion for someone who truly got pooch-screwed today. Maybe it's time to trade in the blank mask for a new one:

All I've got to say is, Sabres management better be blowing that $2.2 mill on something pretty sweet for the fans next year, like a shiny new Amerk or four.

*By "does not bode well", I mean we'll sail into the playoffs with slightly less ease. C'mon people, it's just a backup goalie.

Trade winds blow, and so do the Blackhawks

Well, it's that time of year again...time for another Great Chicago Fire Sale. It's always sad to see an original six team struggling like the Blackhawks are. They've already moved Bochenski, Smolinski, and would probably even deal Gore Verbinski if they had his rights. Or if he was a hockey player.

There are a number of theories floating around about why Chicago is perenially in the basement, but I think it can all be traced back to one serious jinx:



It's hard to come back once you've been Belush'ed.

In other trade news, it looks like Buffalo is officially putting ALL their eggs in Ryan Miller's basket. They've sent Biron to Philly, and picked up a new backup for Miller.

Wait a sec, Ty Conklin? That Ty Conklin?

Yes. That Ty Conklin.

You can practically feel the chill running down the collective spines of the city of Buffalo...and rightly so. A backup for an all-star goaltender only needs to be able to do one thing: hold the fort and finish a playoff game in the event of an injury to the starter. I know what you're asking yourself. By "hold the fort," does he mean "vacate the net so Rod Brind'Amour can pot an easy layup for the game winner?"

No. No I do not.

Seriously, that is a mind-boggling move. It's times like this when I'm extra glad to be a Devils fan. Trade deadline day is the one day a year when I will cop to the Devils being boring...they're almost never involved in any of the blockbuster deals. The one exception being 2003, when Lou sent two-thirds of the A line packing...and we all remember how that turned out:



OK, well, I remember. Most of you probably weren't watching.

For all of today's exciting trade deadline action, check out TSN's soothingly graphical Trade Tracker.

UPDATE: Looks like the Pens are loading for bear...grizzled vet Gary Roberts, fistic winger Georges Laraque, and 3 PM is still hours away.

Birth of an American Hockey Fan Week Five: The Fight

Let me just start this off by saying I missed this fight. I’m not proud of it, I’m not going to make any excuses, I’m not even going to say anything derogatory about the Bruins. I’m just going to say that this was my one big opportunity for a gong show, my one chance to stand up in a bar and scream and shake my fist in rage, and instead I was in my pajamas with a cup of tea, watching the highlights on SportsCenter, gently waving my mug around in mild idignity. If I learned one lesson, it’s that I should never, ever miss a game of hockey, ever again.

That being said, I think SportsCenter did a halfway decent job of getting the highlights of the game across—as in, what game? There was a fight! And a shootout!—and some webrounding today has filled in the missing blanks, those blanks being alternate angles of dudes punching each other. Now it’s no secret that I’m in this partially for the fights (American Boxing Fan? Call me.), but I had no idea how massive a brawl could get, and how accepting, even encouraging the officials, coaches, and commentators are when it comes to the use of fists. Sure, Drury went down thanks to a late hit—a minor hit, really, I’ve been groped worse on the subway—but the second the commentator called fair game on some retribution, it turned the ensuing free-for-all ballbreaking into a justified, almost noble cause. Hell, even after the fight, after the penalty minutes, the delay, the stitches, the shootout, Lindy Ruff (nicknamed Lindy McKickYourAss by the Earl after I amateurishly stated that “Lindy Ruff” sounded like a girl’s name or a swing dance) was still roaring about codes of honor. And that’s what makes hockey great- grudges get held, motherfucker.

And this wasn’t just a hastily thrown together slapfest. This was cold, premeditated, first degree fighting. The Sabres adjusted their lineup specifically for melee. I had no idea that ability to punch a guy in the mouth was considered a measurable tool in hockey, but I’m glad for whoever did the research. The sheer scope of the fight required viewings from multiple sources, and if a dozen guys all trying to spill blood on the ice weren’t shocking enough, when Ray Emery took his helmet off and revealed that there’s a black man playing hockey, well, I damn near shit my pajama pants.

Now, I know we’re talking some Montague-Capulet shit here, but I’m just a little bit in love with Emery right now. Not only does the man remain standing in a fight with a left wing, he actually tears his gloves off in the manner in which one would envision when using the phrase “the gloves came off”. On top of that, the look of sheer, carnal glee on his face as he made the trek across the ice to wail on Biron says “I don’t get to do this nearly enough”, and he kept it there all through his followup match with Peters. Have you ever seen a man smile as he’s getting punched in the face repeatedly until tonight? Has any single display of emotion more fully embodied the sport? I’m a Sabres fan, don’t get me wrong, but it’s a proud night to be from Ottawa, and they don’t get a lot of those.

As for the shootout…jesus, who cares? What a fight.

Birthing Status: Asking for an Epiderral

Brawl? What brawl?

Well, Jen is going to be posting her take on best brawl of the 2007 season which went down last night in Buffalo, and according to NHL video, isn't worthy of even a few seconds in it's highlight package.



Seriously, a goalie fight doesn't qualify as a highlight?

At one point, Ryan Miller is in the game. Hey NHL, once again, you're doing your fans a disservice.

I don't care if Biron had dropped his pants and rode his hockey stick like a pony, if a team switches goalies, that needs to make the highlight reel.

Christ, even ESPN has video coverage.

Here it is, from Hockeyfights.com, via my buddy Jack.

UPDATE: There are other clips up on YouTube that include the Drury hit, but I like this one for that great Buffalo announcer, and the fact that you can hear Lindy Ruff very clearly screaming "Don't go after our fucking captain!" Plus, how great is it that standing right between the two coaches, looking a little uncomfortable in his tie, is none other than Rob Ray, who actually played for both coaches.



Get your heads out of your asses, NHL.

High art, low art.

If you guys are in the mood for some great hockey reporting from an unlikely source, check out Scott Burnside's wonderful look at the original six over at ESPN.com.

I'd raise an issue with his assertion in his profile of the Bruins that the losses of free agents Anson Carter, Mike Knuble and Michael Nylander are up on the level of guys like Allison, Guerin and Thornton- (hello? where's Brian Rolston?) but that would be quibbling. It's a great piece with tremendous scope that proves that ESPN's online department, (unlike on-air) seems to still be concerned with all sports.

But if you're looking for something lighter, here's a good little story about a goalie in Western Michigan who went all Ned Braden at the end of a game he wished had been officiated better.

If I had any discipline at all, I'd refrain from making a "six-hole" joke.

Birth of an American Hockey Fan Week Four: Hockey Terminology and Slang

Biscuit in the basket
What it is, as I understand it: Well, a goal.
How I learned about it: An afternoon spent combing through Wikipedia’s "hockey slang page". When I casually brought it up to a friend, I was informed that I am in no way qualified to offhandedly use the term, and my doing so would demean the sport.

Crease
What it is, as I understand it: The area around the goal.
How I learned about it: If you say the word "Hull" or anything phonetically similar to a Sabres fan, it triggers some sort of uncontrollable seizure in which the word "crease" makes an appearance or five, so you kind of pick it up.

Delayed penalty
What it is, as I understand it: Someone does something illegal, but not well enough that they actually gain possession.
How I learned about it: Through Ritch’s clenched teeth as he explained it to me for the fourth time. A good rule of thumb seems to be that if you have to ask what just happened, it was a delayed penalty.

Hand pass
What it is, as I understand it: Catching the puck.
How I learned about it: In wide-eyed awe. They never show that in the movies. It seems kind of a puss out. I bet the Russians don’t hand pass, and if they do, their coach makes them play without a mouthguard or something similarly toughening.

Icing
What it is, as I understand it: Apparently, if you’re going to hit the puck really far away, it’d better go into the goal. That’s all I got so far.
How I learned about it: If anyone reads the above explanation and genuinely believes that I fully grasp icing, then I am officially playing "the blind" to your "the blind".

Long change
What it is, as I understand it: During the second period, the goal switch means players have to skate further to make substitutions, so they get all tired-like.
How I learned about it: An elaborate table diorama involving various pieces of alcohol paraphanalia, set up in a sports bar by the Earl. An effective teaching technique if I’ve ever seen one.

Poke checking
What it is, as I understand it: Dude’s got the puck, someone tries to jab it away. Kinda the basis of the sport, really.
How I learned about it: The second installment of my "Use one new hockey term per game, then squeal with glee and solicit high fives all around" plan. It’s all very rugged.

Power play
What it is, as I understand it: Simple addition. One team’s got more players on the ice than the other.
How I learned about it: Unlike the rest of hockey’s rules and quirks, Versus actually seems to want its viewers to be better informed when it comes to power plays, and they put a little digital notification beneath the score. It almost makes up for them showing that damn Ovechkin commercial so often.

McDonald's hates minorites.

OK- so check this out.

I'm on the Sportsnet Canada NHL page today, checking in to see if there have been any big trades today, and what do I see but this contest sponsored by McDonald's.

Apparently, you go to McDonald's, buy a Big Mac, and get a chance to win tickets to an NHL playoff game, a home opener next season, the all star game (big deal) and I think the NHL awards show.

Fuck Morgan Spurlock, I'll eat a Big Mac for that.

So here's the rub (from the OFFICIAL RULES):

HOW TO OBTAIN A GAME PIECE

In Restaurant: Game Pieces are available when purchasing one of the specially marked food items, while supplies last, at participating McDonald's restaurants in Canada.

Fuck me.

Only in Canada?

And you wonder why the game isn't catching on here in the States. If there is one thing Americans unquestionably adore, it's stuffing our faces with fast food. And yet the NHL can't seem to extend some that action even as far south as Michigan?

Excuse me as I once again gently place this needle upon a well-worn broken record, but Bettman, you are a prize hog of morons.

Of course, that got me wondering, what does McDonald's have to offer us here in America? As it happens, not much in the way of contests. Still, after surfing around their website for a while I found a few things that are definately worth a look. Anybody familiar with McDonald's tremendously tasteful (read: borderline racist) mini-websites designed to appeal (read: pander to?) the African-American and Asian Communities?

If you're like me, that is to say, a fan of gold medal examples of the unique brand of horseshit that results from a combination of clueless corporate culture, niche-marketing disguised as sensitivity and white-hot fear of racial discrimination lawsuits, these websites are kinda wonderful to behold.

I present to you now, courtesy of the Clown himself, the McDonald's marketing websites 365Black and I am Asian.

Hey, McDonald's!

I've you've got so much goddamn love for minorities in this country, how about throwing a bone to an American Hockey Fan!

Either way, it's after 2:00 and I need some lunch.

Guess what I WON'T be having?

The New NHL (kinda sucks)

Well, the earth stood still this week, as Sports Illustrated ran not one, but TWO pieces about hockey:

Ever since the NHL's early days when Montreal's Sprague Cleghorn terrorized the ice, the league has housed pugnacious souls whose primary function is protecting their more skilled teammates by intimidating opponents into steering clear, and delivering swift and terrible fistic punishment upon transgressors.

It's a pretty solid photo gallery of 14 of hockey's all-time great enforcers...solid especially in comparison to recent features in other magazines/glorified-Axe-body-spray-promotional-materials.

So good for SI, but bad for hockey fans...of these 14 tough guys, only 3 are still playing today. The new whistle-happy NHL is never more depressing than when it's juxtaposed against the sport's grand history.



Gordie, forgive Gary Bettman...he knows not what the hell he's doing.

Or alternately, you could just beat the shit out of him.

It's not all peaches and cream

Backing up Marty Brodeur may be seem like a plum job. After all, even figuring the league minimum, you're basically collecting mid-six figures for riding the pine all season. In fact, Scott Clemmensen probably earns more per minute of ice time than some of the league's biggest names. But let no one say that Clemmensen doesn't leave it all...well, maybe not on the ice, but on the bench, which is right next to the ice:

Backup goaltender Scott Clemmensen has started only two games all season and hasn't played since Dec. 14, but still ended up with eight stitches in his upper lip when he was struck with the stick blade of teammate Travis Zajac while sitting on the bench.

"Travis was carrying the puck past our bench and [Chris] Simon hit him and his stick hit me," Clemmensen explained as his lip still oozed blood after the game. "At least, my teeth are OK."

Give Clemmensen credit, though...in the first period of last week's game against the Islanders, he only made three fewer saves than Brodeur.

Birth of an American Hockey Fan Week Three: Film Foundations

Needing a break from my increasingly pathetic requests for bartenders to change the channel to hockey games, I decided to supplement my education with a little hockey film foundation. Ritch put it to a vote, and though I appreciate whoever was looking out for my womanly sensibilities with the suggestion of The Cutting Edge, time and self-respect constraints narrowed it down to the classics- Youngblood and Slap Shot.

This little experiment was supposed to be about fellow fans offering me insight into the underlying themes of hockey (no guts no glory, size doesn’t matter, etc.) but after popping Youngblood into the Tivo, it became clear to me that you people are just cruel, calculating bastards who have it out for me. Youngblood is an interesting example of a hockey movie in that it eschews showing actual hockey being played in favor of a scene in which one man shaves another man’s balls. They wisely chose not to give the villain of the movie any speaking lines, letting his prominent forehead and stubble convey his inherent evilness, which is just as well, since the Canadian accent is only slightly more menacing than a lisp. If I’ve got one gripe with this movie (complete lack of plot not counting as a "gripe"), it’s the ending. Having lost all interest in Dean Youngblood’s future during the mind-numbingly long farming montage—the fact that the phrase "farming montage" even exists makes the world a bleaker place—I was at least hoping that I could vest myself in the fate of the Mustangs themselves. The last-minute penalty shots seemed promising, but then they went and left those extra three seconds on the clock. Unspectacular game footage aside, this is a sports movie, and sports movies have a pretty tried-and-true formula. Boxing movies end in KOs, baseball movies in home runs, and hockey movies end in penalty shots. Three seconds may not be a lot of time in other sports, but it can be a long time in hockey, and when it’s three seconds of Rob Lowe throwing sloppy punches, it can be downright interminable.

Slap Shot, on the other hand, I was almost looking forward to. I’d been promised both violence and a breakdown of the various penalties, with the added bonus of getting to see Paul Newman fuck some guys up, and I was not let down. Though the romantic subplots dragged a bit—I would have been perfectly content if every female character in this movie were replaced with yet another Hanson brother—after the horror of Youngblood, I was pretty psyched to have a main character that uttered actual dialogue. I’m not saying the movie was perfect; that last-minute perfect storm of a roster in the final game seemed a little suspect, and I’m not sure how a screenwriter can sleep at night knowing he ended a movie with ice dancing. But there was blood and hockey, and a girl can’t ask for much more than that.

Birthing Status: Packing the overnight bag

At least they bothered to correct it.

With apologies to Alan Muir, who wrote a great article recently about spending Superbowl Sunday "poring over two-week-old game film of 16-year-old hockey phenom John Tavares" we all know that Sports Illustrated really isn't the place for hockey.

Check out what ran in the corrections section of the February 12th issue of Sports Illustrated (pictured.)










I get it, guys- you like football.

Sheesh.

I don't want to say that hockey gets no respect, but a girl phoned hockey the other day and said... "Come on over, there's nobody home." Hockey went over. Nobody was home.

Incidentally, this was pointed out to me by one of the guys who works over at The Smoking Gun. They have a little bit of experience ferreting out these kinds of errors, like this classic "Dewey Defeats Truman" moment from the Tampa Tribune, published the day after the Lightning won the Stanley Cup. TSG also has a lot of good background on Anna Nicole Smith today.

All I have on the subject are tasteless jokes that probably won't be purchased by TV shows- like this gem:

39 year old Anna Nicole Smith died Thursday after collapsing at a Florida hotel. The hotel is in stable condition.

I'll be here all week!

More evidence that hockey is not the number one sport among speakers of Portuguese:

Exhibit A:



And Exhibit B:


What gives?

I'll say this to you, people of Portugal, Brazil, São Tomé e Príncipe, Angola, Cape Verde, Mozambique, East Timor, Goa and Macau.

Smarten up.

You're getting screwed by the man.

Mail Bag!

So I got an email from my pal Eric today, a passionate Rangers fan who watched the game against the Devils last night. We had a little back and forth that I thought was interesting enough to reprint here. Here's the highlights of the game in case you didn't catch it:



By the way, I asked him if he was OK with me publishing this, and he said he had no problem with it, so long as he wasn't "disparaged." I immediately agreed, which is why I have selectively edited out all of his statements detailing his love for German fecal-porn.

Kidding.

Eric is actually a very knowledgeable hockey fan and a smart guy. I have no evidence that he has any disposition towards fecal porn of any kind, German or otherwise. Still, I will say that if he was into fecal porn, it would probably be German, seeing as he's the kind of guy who appreciates the best things in life. From wine to beer to food to music to sports to art, he's a class act, and if I applied his appreciation for the other passions he has in life to fecal porn, I'd think he'd go German. I'm just saying that from what little I know about the subject, if you're going to go for fecal porn, the German variety is pretty much universally considered top of the line.

But he's not into fecal porn.

As far as I know.

That's not disparaging, is it?

But I digress- here's his original email:

Subject: Numbers Game

12--The number of shootouts that the Devils have participated in this season. So they play 65 minutes of conservative, "not to lose" hockey so that their hall-of-fame goalie can win them an extra point.

27-The number of consecutive non-sellouts (including last night's game vs. the Rangers) at the Continental Airlines Arena.


Think there's a correlation??


Just asking.

Here's my response:

I dunno- I was in and out of the room, but I thought last night's game
was a pretty good one.

In terms of playing "not to lose hockey" and the negative effect on
turnout, you're playing a bit of a rhetorical game there. I mean, sure
"playing not to lose" sounds boring, but "playing a tough defensive
game with great goaltending" sounds pretty good to me.

I only bring this up because I am against troop buildups in Iraq, yet
am pro-"surge."

Plus, if anything, the Devils defense, at least along the blue line,
has been weaker than it's been in years. When Jagr came out of the
corner on the power play in the last two minutes of overtime and
Brodeur laid down and stopped him, it was every bit as exciting as a
two-on-one break the other way would have been.

(NOTE: That play was inexplicably omitted in that highlight package I found above. Get your heads out of your asses, NHL.)

And, yeah- the Devils don't score much, but they're using what they
have, which is a great goalie. Gauging by the amount of fan jerseys
with goaltenders names on the back around the league, it's hard to
argue that winning with a great goalie is something fans dislike. I
think it's a damn risky strategy, but they seem to have the goalie to
pull it off in the regular season. Whether that's enough to win four
playoff rounds is entirely another.

If I had to pick one factor that negatively effects the gate, it's
probably the fact that the game has officiated out some of the
intimidation that makes it feel just a little bit dangerous.

There were two factors that made me excited to tune in last night, and
it was the addition of Sean Avery and Cam Janssen in the line-ups.

Fights and violence in hockey are the naked pictures in the early
years of Playboy. The fantastic athleticism, grace, speed, finesse,
passing and goal-scoring are the great articles. So- do I read Playboy
for the articles? Yes, I do. But I picked it up for the pictures.

That said, I hear you that losing a game like that in a shootout has
got to be frustrating as hell, and I certainly don't like the way the
points are handed out in the OT/shootout.

Intuitively, it seems to me that there should be only two points up
for grabs in every NHL game. Just as they once argued that a team that
loses in overtime deserves a bit more than a team that gets blown out,
shouldn't a team that wins in overtime get a bit less than a team that
gets it done in 60 minutes? If two teams play to a tie, they each get
half of one point. If there are only two points awarded in every game,
then at the end of regulation, one of the points is gone. OT and the
shootout if necessary, allows them to play for the remaining point.

Therefore, an OT win is not as good as a regular season win, as it's
only worth a point and a half. A team who loses in OT doesn't go home
totally empty. They get half a point.

Thoughts?

And he replied:

I thought that Jagr's move out of the corner was his best stuff of the season and that last night's game was pretty darn good, as was the game against Buffalo.

However, would you pay $65 a night to see a team play cautious offense and stifling defense? Great goaltending is only great if the goalie is forced to face quality shots.

I think that three points should be put up for grabs. Win in regulation, get three points. Win in OT or a shootout, get two, with the loser getting one. Make teams play for wins. Or, just play overtime until someone wins, like baseball or basketball.

I'm sure Ben (Devils fan) has something to add to this, and I'm curious about others thoughts on the OT extra point issue. Any ideas, comments, or links to exterior articles or blog posts on the subject are welcome.

PS: Thanks to the Forechecker for giving us props on his Heavy Hitters of the hockey blog list. Also to Jes Golbez, who tagged me on a thread that I didn't have time to respond to. If you're not reading his site, you're missing out.

"Conserve your precious hatred for the game."

Hey all.

There was only one game on last night, so today is a pretty good day to get some suggestions for Jen, our burgeoning American hockey fan. The category she's writing on this week is "hockey movies and television shows she needs to see."

Obviously, the big two are Slap Shot and Youngblood, but what else is out there?

Anybody remember that two-on-none breakaway from the opening credits of the Hogan Family?


This used to piss the shit out of me as a kid- watch Jason Bateman and some other asshole slam dunk it on this poor goalie.



Where in God's name was the defense?

He clearly wasn't skating hard enough to break a sweat, or even mess up his hair under the helmet, so I suspect he was playing against very young children, or the developmentally disabled.

What a dick.

By the way, the example that Bateman's Dad sets by leaping out of his seat and roaring his approval for such an obvious mismatch could very well have laid the foundation for the rash of violent, thuggish hockey dads that made news in the decades to follow.

Nice work, Hogan family.

There is blood on your hands.

Certainly, this early Simpsons episode has got to be on the list.



Suggestions?

Coaches Corner with Don Cherry- Feb 3

Hey all- I found a Youtube account that is posting Coaches Corner on YouTube, so those of us in the States can see it.

By the way, I feel like I must have said this before, but I'll say it again. Wanna improve TV ratings for hockey in the States?

I have three words for you:

Hire Don Cherry.



Huge thank you to joeyjohnson992

Strange things happen around the Buffalo crease

And apparently, not all of them are because of Brett Hull.

Well, Jen, it looks like it's not all peaches and cream being a Sabres fan. Saturday night's matchup against the Devils was a good one. Historically, the Devils have had Buffalo's number, but this year's Sabres are a whole other story. They embarassed New Jersey a couple of months ago in a 3-2 win (coincidentally the same night as the inaugural AHF Buy Me a Beer Challenge) that wasn't nearly as close as that score indicates, so I was really excited to see a fast-paced, tightly-defended game that had a lot of fire, and even more controversy. If this is the eventual conference final, I say bring it on.

First, on Elias' alleged no-goal...come on. That thing was in. No matter where the puck happened to hit Miller's glove (and replays showed it up near the webbing), almost the entire glove was over the line before Miller snapped it back out again. And the resulting closeups of Miller's face showed a man with a secret...those were guilty eyes if I've ever seen them. I don't know why there was no review of the play:

"We all said something right away, that they should go upstairs, but they were threatening delay of game," Scott Gomez said.

Oh, that's right. Because the NHL hates the Devils.

And as for Madden's goal, Miller's argument was basically that he should have gotten a quicker whistle. That's a pretty tough sell. Watch the replay, and count out 1...2...3. It's not even close. Was I pissed when Evgeni Malkin scored his first NHL goal on Marty Brodeur that way? Yes, I was pissed. Did the goal count? Yes, it did:



If the Sabres are going to go all the way this year, Ryan Miller is the key. He is crazy talented, with lightning fast hands, but he's still just a kid, and he needs to work on his temperment. Watch the way Brodeur reacted to Malkin's garbage goal, and compare it to Miller's freakout, and subsequent dressing room bitch-and-moan. Yeah, it hurts to give one up like that, but there was still plenty of hockey left to play. After that goal in the Pittsburgh game, Brodeur didn't give up another, not to Malkin or even Jesus Chr--I mean, Sidney Crosby.

And that's the difference between a rookie and a veteran.

You know, if I had the hockey package:

I'm prety sure I'd know how to pronounce Ouellet .

"Oo-Lett?"

"Oo-Lay?"

"Ellett?"

"Owl-eh?"

Beats the hell out of me.

I guess what I'm saying is I'm not watching the Penguins and the Caps right now.

The only upside is I won't have to see that dreadful Ovechkin/Leonisis at the snack machine ad another 5 times.

Look! The billionaire has his hand stuffed up the snack machine!

Hilarious!

I hate to tell you assholes, but the only five words you need with a hockey player and a snack machine are as follows:

"Fuckin' machine took my quarter!"

I mean, for crying out loud.

Why is it that the All Star game gets all the hype with Ovechkin and Crosby playing together, and this game doesn't get on national TV?

I hate RCN cable with every pore of my being.

I'm in a mood.

Birth of an American Hockey Fan Week Two: The First Sabres Game

(Editor's note: Jen is being added as an author, but Blogger's being difficult- here's her post, please ignore the fact that it says I wrote it)



Sitting down with Ritch at a sports bar in front of our own private flatscreen, it became pretty obvious that the Bruins were playing a different game than they had been all week, namely, one in which they appeared to have brushed up on the basic tenets of the sport before taking the ice. By the end of the first period, the Bruins were up by one, and I was confused; with all of the talk surrounding Buffalo’s innate awesomeness, I had expected them to maybe, perhaps, take possession of the puck at some point, but I’m an outsider here, and figured it was just a lack of expertise on my part.


After a second beer and my eleventh explanation of icing—my only idea as to why I am still unable to grasp the concept is that I was raped by a linesman as a child and have since repressed anything to do with zone violations—the Sabres came to, and I was back in the shittalking business. Tim Thomas did some neat trick in which he momentarily removed his arms from their sockets, and Ritch called garbage goal, but I assumed that was because he was losing. At one point Buffalo scored a goal so quickly after the faceoff that I wondered that maybe they’d just left it there from the last one? I’d have asked Ritch, but the discovery of a foot-long hair in his spinach dip had officially moved him to “man while he’s down” status, so I refrained.


Since my love of hockey fights and injuries is rooted in grainy movie and TV memories from the Cold War era, I had been worried that the general uptightedness of the new millennium had dulled the gore, but watching the replay footage of Andrew Alberts taking a puck to the eye on HD, I actually saw the individual capillaries bursting, and as it always does, technology allayed any fears. When the fight broke out, I felt my heart burst with joy at the exact moment that the ref kicked the helmet out of the way, and when Sturm got a stick in the face and blood hit the ice—so red! so clearly defined!-- I was riled up like it was the Thunderdome. Team victory, a fight, a grievous-ish injury, an unexpectedly long happy hour special, and a worthy receptacle for my trash talk right beside me? Happy friggin’ birthday to me.


I have to admit, it was more than a little heartbreaking to see the Bruins do such a sexy little dance for Ritch before blueballing him in the second and third periods, but hockey’s not a game of sympathetic condolences, and in the end, he had to know that choosing a team based solely on geographic proximity to his birthplace might not be such a hot idea next time; also, making a man cry in a sports bar is always a special treat.


Birthing status: Contractions

I don't even want to talk about that Bruins game last night.

I watched it with Jen, and she's taking to this whole "Sabres fan" thing like a fish to water, in that she was talking a lot of shit without really knowing what she was talking about.

More later on that, from both of us.

I will say that the best moment of the night, (for me at least)was Brad Boyes getting in the first fight of his NHL career, and with the crowd roaring, they cut away to a local commerical featuring a contest where you can win a trip to a "Friendly's" ice cream parlour with, wait for it- Brad Boyes!
It was pretty sweet.

When I was growing up, if I wanted somebody to punch me in the mouth and then take me out for ice cream, I'd have to accidentally break a dish in front of my dad.

What?

You see, that's funny becuase I was an abused child.

Oh, and as a follow up to yesterday's hopefulness for hockey on ESPN News, I got the following in an email from my pal Eric, who's the big Ranger fan:

>>Took your advice last night and tuned in (To ESPN NEWS) at 10.

>>They covered:
>>College Basketball
>>NBA All-Star Game Reserves
>>Non-Stories from the Super Bowl
>>College Basketball
>>NBA

>>Then it was 11 and I turned to the Daily Show....

Ahh well, can't say I'm really surprised...