Sweet Tea, Barbecue, and Bodychecks

As of this morning, the ‘Canes had been dropped by Triangle media conglomerate Curtis Media–or more correctly, Curtis Media decided not to renew their contract with the ‘Canes. Can’t say I’m surprised–the vibe I’ve always gotten from Curtis was one of “eh, they’re here, have fun” (though Curtis Media station 96Rock really had a blast pimping the team).

As of about noonish or so, the ‘Canes announced a new deal with Triangle media mainstay Capitol Broadcasting Company (owned by Jim Goodmon, who also owns the Durham Bulls AAA beisbol team). This is a good thing–the station that they’re on has a crap coverage area, but it’s still a good thing because it opens the door for Goodmon eventually investing in the team (which will strengthen its place in the Triangle, much to the dismay of the RHWO nutbags).

As of about 1:00 or so, the ‘Canes announced that they’d re-signed radio play-by-play man Chuck Kaiton.

So far, so good.

Relax, this is going to be G-rated. Well, PG-rated and catering to juvenile senses of humor at any rate.

Word around the Caniac Campfire is that Niclas “Mr. OT” Wallin is being asked if he’d be willing to waive his no-trade clause so that he can go to Philadelphia in exchange for Joni Pitkanen. I dunno how I’d feel, really.

“Nicky, we’d like you to waive your NTC so we can trade you for a Finnish kid whose name sounds like the Sanskrit word for your wife’s babymaker.”

Umm….yeah. I’ll wait for you mooks to stop with the Beavis and Butt-head impressions.

Moving right along….

According to my boy Luke DeCock, Bret Hedican has formally informed JimR that he’s going to be giving it a go in training camp. Jim-bob, predictably, has declared that he won’t be looking to land any free-agent defensemen come 1 July. What do I think? I think that by not pursuing a contingency plan of some sort (and I’m sorry, but Snatch Pitkanen isn’t it), the man is setting himself up to get shot in the ass again. As for the rumored trade for Pitkanen….

My sources* tell me that Edmonton did some background checking on the the young Finn (what, they were trying to find out if he was the second coming of Janne Niinimaa?)–and that checking apparently turned up something that made the Oilers drop the idea of trading for the kid like a hot rock. Velly interestink, if you ask me. I think I’ll give that an A1.

The Hall of Fame’s Class of 2007 will be announced this week–Mark Messier will of course get in, but the question on everyone’s mind is (of course) “who will be able to fit on the stage with that guy’s ego?”

Conventional wisdom has Al MacInnis, Orenthal Scott Stevens, and either Ron Francis or Adam Oates as the other inductees–but personally? I think that Francis will wind up getting overlooked, just like he has been overlooked his whole career (especially by Bristol–screw you John Buccigross, for comparing St. Francis of Assist to Bernie fucking Federko back in ‘04).

The Hurricanes are shopping for a third-line center to replace the departing Joe, Lord of Evil–and wouldn’t you know, Kevyn Adams was waived by the Coyotes the other day. It seems perfect, Kevyn coming back to the team he won a Cup with, but I’m wondering if there aren’t some issues stemming from the fight he and Bret Hedican had last season. Mind you, I could be all wet–but I just get this strange feeling that this is a fence that might not be so easily mended.

In news from other teams (well, one other team)….

The Boston Bruins canned yet more people in their haste to clean house after yet another lackluster season: this time, they got rid of assistant coach Jeff Gorton and amateur scout Daniel Dore. Yet another futile attempt by the Bruins to reverse the fortunes that are pretty much ruined by a bastard who’s more concerned with raw profit than with actually having a team that has at least a snowball’s chance in Muspelheim of winning a Cup. And whose bright idea was it to name Jeremy Jacobs as President of the Board of Governors?! The only suggestion that would have been worse would have been naming Bill Wirtz as BoG President!

Sheesh.

*: TSN, Canadian Press, and Sportsnet. Come on people, who do you think I am–Eklund?

My weekend started Friday morning at 2:00, when I was awakened by the foghorn sound of the alarm on my cell phone.

It ended about an hour and a half ago when I came staggering through the door and got mobbed by all four of my cats, who (in between demands that I pet them) claimed that my husband mistreated them horribly and beat them constantly while I was gone.

Con artists, all of ‘em. And that’s just the Wirtz family! Badum-bum.

I hit the road a half-hour later than I wanted to, at 4:30 AM–and I had to make a 10-mile detour to my husband’s place of ork so that he could whine about how much he would miss me terribly while I was in Columbus–but I made phenomenally good time, getting to Columbus right around noon.

The drive itself was pretty good–I love driving through the Appalachians, especially in early summer and especially early in the morning when the mist isn’t quite burned off yet. The I-77/81 corridor in Southwest Virginia is always my favorite part of any trip to that part of the country, if for no other reason than the cat-and-mouse game that so many drivers play with the Wythe County Sheriff’s Department. Wythe County is known as a giant speed trap, and the deputies use decoy cars and clever hiding spots to nab unsuspecting speeders–especially those with out of state plates like mine. Good thing I remembered to tap the brakes a few times right before I got to the top of the hill overlooking Wytheville!

Got to the hotel and met up with my friends Amy and Lisa, who came down from Michigan for the Draft, and we checked into the ‘otel. I’d elected to leave the jersey at home–for some reason I just didn’t feel it appropriate. Of course, I also left my red hat at home too–which was kinda annoying, especially since I didn’t realize I’d left it at home until I was crossing the Ohio River. DOH!

After chillin’ with Lisa and Amy and having a good (and cheap) lunch at the nearest Waffle House, it was off to the Arena for me.

Jackets fans, y’all have a pretty spifftastic barn by the way. Very nice looking place–but MAN do y’all have some hellacious one-way street action in your downtown! I thought Raleigh was lousy with one-ways, until I got to C-bus. Wow. I tried to find a parkplatz, and realized something:

In my excitement over being in a new town, I apparently forgot how to drive. That’s right, I almost turned into oncoming traffic on a two-way and cut across three lanes of traffic in downtown not once but five times. If you were driving around Columbus and got cut off by a beat-up brown Cavalier with an NC plate referencing a certain Big Czech Defenseman, that was me.

Sorry!

I also got lost a couple of times, but we won’t discuss that. Bloody one-way streets and exits on the left….

*ahem*

The blogmoot was pretty fun. I went walking into the BLAP after coming up from downstairs, and I walk past this unassuming cat sitting in the corner with a laptop bag on the table in front of him. Journalist, I thought.

Then I saw the kepi. I turn around and come on back.

Army of Ohio?

“Yep!”

Hi, I’m the Acid Queen.

I sat down and we started rappin’. Then Drew showed up. Then a couple other folks showed up (Truthspeaker–one of the Jackets folks–and Kevin, who reads more than blogs), and we were off to the races!

So we’re all chillin’ in the corner, when this guy who looked like an exhausted (but tanned!) Tony Soprano comes walking past us. He looks around the corner, and then comes back towards us. “I’m looking for a guy who calls himself Tapeleg.”

Then I see the media cred around his neck.

Tapeleg’s not here yet Eric, but you’re welcome to come grab a seat.

Lemme tell you; for a cat with a Celtic surname, Eric McErlain looks more Italian than I do. Bada-bing!

Then Tapeleg showed up with his lovely lady friend Meg in tow, followed shortly thereafter by Greg Wyshynski and Emperor Paul I.

While we were all hangin’ out, we heard about the Vokoun trade. Hello, Major League anyone? And to FLORIDA, no less? I mean, I like Vokoun and all–BUT NOT IN MY GODDAMN DIVISION! Man. The talk about the trade led to talk about the on-again off-again (and hopefully off-except-to-local-investors) sale of the Preds, which led to talk about Charlotte vs. Raleigh–and boy, did I have fun explaining to Greg why it’s impossible to compare Charlotte with Raleigh when it comes to fan support for a team.

The festivities broke up about 6:30ish, and we all went meandering into the arena. I parked with Tapeleg and Meg upstairs in 312–and we camped next to two of the most annoying-ass Blues fans I have ever encountered. And drunk? Oh man were they hammered! And of course, after about pick five or six one of them went out to the concourse and honked all over himself–which I didn’t see, but I did smell it when he came back in the section sans jersey. Can’t hide the heady aroma of booze-yack that easily, yanno. Between those two losers and Annoying Blackhawks Fan, I think I’d take Annoying Blackhawks Fan–at least he kept his yelling to a minimum (though I did get a chuckle out of Tapeleg when Bettman said “Chicago, you are on the clock” and I belted out a lusty ALEXANDROOOOV!)

BUT! The one thing more annoying than the Booze fans–who were finally escorted out by the securebots after the 10th pick or so–were the Blue Jackets fans that kept howling acclamatory phrases down toward the TSN setup where former CBJ GM Doug McLean was camped with Bob McKenzie and James Duthie. Yes, DM(F)GMHCP knows the Jackets Nation hates him–but please, we’re kinda trying to hear what’s being said if you don’t mind.

Apres Round 1, there was to be an afterparty of sorts at the Hyatt–I was there before anyone else (so I missed seeing Yzerman get booed by the Jackets fans when it was Detroit’s turn to pick), and I was chillin’ with a Diet Coke when I started to get on the nods thanks to the combination of my back meds and the wearing-off of the adrenalin in my system…and no way was I going to conk over around my fellow bloggers, because with my luck I’d have woken up dressed in a Red Wings jersey with I HEART CHRIS CHELIOS XOXOXO tattooed on my forehead or something and the picture would be the header for Abel to Yzerman by now. Them bloggers, they’s some sneaky folks. Can’t trust ‘em, I say! (just kidding, of course.) So I went back to my hotel and zonked until about 8:00 AM or so.

Saturday was pretty laid-back for me. I opted out of Rounds 2 and on because I wanted to see The Cup more. It’s a ritual for me: Every Draft I go to, I go see The Cup. Pay my respects to the spirits, say a prayer, and leave. I went and stood on line with my little camera in hand, and saved the last picture on the roll for the names of the 05-06 Champs.

Driving home was a little anticlimactic, in a way. I was tired because I’d had little sleep on Thursday night or Friday night, so I was more interested in getting home than I was in sightseeing–and I wound up having to pull off the road a few times so I could grab a catnap. But I am of course home now, which is good.

I’ll be back in the saddle sometime tomorrow. See y’all next year in Ottawa.

….well at 4:00 AM, anyway.

Tomorrow at this time I’ll be heckling Annoying Blackhawks Fan as he tries to tell the Hawks’ scouting staff who to pick, quacking at the Red Wings fans (like I did in 2003–man, was that ever fun), and generally chillin’ out.

A little news before I go, courtesy of my boy Luke DeCock at the N&O:

Hedican-can-can decides to go for another turn on the wheel

How’d we do in the first round in the last 10 years, anyway?

What’s come of that 11th pick in the last few years, anyway?

And that’s it–I’ll pry find some laptop somewhere and make a post from C-bus. Either that, or I’ll just take a metric assload of notes and post ‘em up here when I get home Sunday morning.

See y’all in C-bus.

Three years, 2.5 per — Hurricanes website

“Hell, it’s about time!” — Tychus Findlay

This makes me happy. I’m kinda “eh” about the dollar amount, but Remo re-signing means that we have some bollocks on our team for sure this coming season–so it’s all good to me.

Before I blow an artery spraying yet more bile and invective about Versus and the completely craptacular way they handled the Awards show tonight (Aside to Vinny Lecavalier: tell your girlfriend to stop shoving her fingers down her throat and eat a sammich every now and then willya?), I’m going to turn myself to something more fun–like the Draft:

Army of Ohio: Blogmoot is purty much set.

Looks like I’ll have to leave the trojniak at home–either that or leave it in my hotel room, take your pick–cos somehow I don’t think I’ll be able to smuggle the bottle into the Gnat. The cork-popping sound would kinda give things away.

See y’all next weekend.

When I blasted the NHL’s decision to go with OLN/Versus for their NHL coverage, I had so many people telling me that I should just be happy hockey is on TV.

Those same people are now bitching because Versus has, once again, bollocksed up coverage and is apparently not willing to do anything about other than show the program at 11 instead of 7:00 as originally scheduled.

I bet Ed Snider’s really proud of his pet network right now. I know I would be.

RBH and CasonBlog have already covered it: Bret Hedican went to have his bum hip looked at, and the ‘Canes are hoping to hear what he’s going to do.

Loyalty is a two-way street.

The ‘Canes have shown a lot of loyalty to Hedi, and JimR is hoping that Hedi will show the ‘Canes some loyalty by telling them if he’s coming back or not…and doing it before 1 July, so that they know whether they can go dippin’ in the UFA pool or not.

Scott Walker has said that he’s going to go poking around the market to see what his skills will command. From his comments regarding Jim Ballsillie buying the Preds with the intent to move them, it’s clear that his heart is still with the team that he helped shepherd through its first seven-odd years in the NHL and that he’s hoping Dave Poile will make him an offer. The Hurricanes’ response is that they’ll not wait to see if he’s signed or not–meanwhile, Glen Wesley quietly re-upped for another season with the team that he helped shepherd through its first ten seasons in North Carolina.

Loyalty is a two-way street.

The store I work at is under siege by a gang of freelance socialists who are making sport of coming in every evening, stealing whatever they want, and doing their best to intimidate whoever’s working that night and isn’t me or my boss–and not only does the Raleigh PD refuse to do anything about it except trespass the miscreants (rather than, say, actually arresting them for larceny and whatever other charges they can throw at them), but our corporate office has made it clear that we’re not to defend ourselves in any way should the situation turn violent…nor can we use the in-store alarm. It doesn’t matter that these low-lifes will come over the counter and beat the ever-lovin’ Chelios out of whoever’s on duty if that clerk picks up the phone–The Company is more concerned with the $500 that the security firm charges for summoning the police than they are with the safety of their employees.  So I’m looking for a new yob and being a hell of a lot more diligent about preparing to go back to school (after that 15-year summer vacation I took), because I don’t need my husband freaking out every time I go to work because he’s afraid that this will be the last time he sees me alive.

Loyalty is a two-way street.

See some of you next week in C-bus.

Mostly cos it’s pissing off all the Detroit fans and everyone who pisses and whines about teams in the Sunbelt–but also because I remember 2003 and how hard Rob Niedermayer and JS Giguere and the rest of that crew played their asses off and how disappointed I was for them when they lost.

Those guys finally got their reward. It makes me happy, because it reminds me of the Warchief five years ago when he lost and then last season when he finally got a Cup. Teemu finally got his reward, with the team he shouldn’t have left in the first place. It makes me happy, because I like Teemu. It makes me happy, because I have friends in the 7-1-4

My Golden Bitch? Fuck him (not literally, of course–who do you think I am, Christine Chorley?*). This isn’t about him. This isn’t about geographical boundaries or the Mason-Dixon Line (which doesn’t really apply to California) or any of that other window-dressy bullshit, either.

It’s about another circle closing–this one for the Ducks.

Yeah, I was barracking for the Sens. I felt it would be quite fitting (and nice) to see the first team to win the Cup after the Cup went to the sole possession of the NHL win it again after 80 years, a Great Depression, a World War, a Cold War, and a reincarnation–who better to break the Canadian cup drought than the team that was a dynasty before the Les Glorieux were even thought of?

The spirits of the Silver Seven are calling to their latter-day successors to come and join them in immortality.

The spirits will be waiting a while longer. But don’t lose hope, Sens fans–your boys will get back to where they once belonged.

Congratulations, Ducks.

Deyr fé,
deyja frændur,
deyr sjálfur ið sama.
En orðstír
deyr aldregi
hveim er sér góðan getur.

Cattle die, kinsmen die,
the self must also die;
but glory never dies,
for the man who is able to achieve it.

–Havamal 62

Note to Ms. Chorley and her lawyers (and Mr. Pronger and his lawyers): I AM JOKING. PUT THE FILING PAPERS DOWN AND BACK AWAY FROM THE LAWSUIT.

Oh, now this is funny.

It’s all Sean Hill’s fault that the Mo-ple Leafs missed the playoffs this season.

Were it a Leaf that had been popped and the situations reversed, would JFJ be crying? Of course not. Leafs fans are angry at another year without a Cup, playoffs, and Lil’ Fergie needs somebody to blame so that the fans don’t come marching down Younge Street with torches and pitchforks to re-enact the opening :15 of “Witch Hunt”.

Enter one Sean Hill. Hockey player, performance-enhancing substance user–and JFJ’s roomie when they both played for the Godless Habominations. I’m still waiting to find out what Hill got popped for, kids. What did he take, and when did he take it? And for that matter, if it was ‘roids then how did he manage to avoid showing signs of use? Was it the cream? The clear? Rogaine?  Lanacaine?  What was it?

Whatever. Hilly was appealing his suspension during the stretch, he was–under the rules–allowed to play during that appeal process, and he is not the reason why the Leafs choked a bid at the 8th seed in the East. The Isles outplayed the Leafs as a team during the last two weeks of the season, while the Leafs did their best impression of the 03-04 Hurricanes and Chairman Mo made his usual excuses.

If you want somebody to blame, Fergie, blame DUBIELEWICZ. It’s all his fault.

Damn that DUBIELEWICZ.

So Michael Turner from Army of Ohio and Drew from End of the Bench are planning a blogmoot for Barbarossa Day (that’d be 22 June), and being the sociable sort that I am I’ll be putting in an appearance.

Bring yer friends, bring yer neighbours, bring yer riot gear. I’ll be showing up with a bottle or two of fine  Bernardynski and a beisbol bat with which to beat down any uppity Sabres fans, with some appropriately obnoxious techno music blasting from my speakers.

Here’s a link to Michael’s Guide to Columbus and the Draft. Go check it out, and leave an RSVP in the comments.

See y’all later this month.