Sweet Tea, Barbecue, and Bodychecks

….this slightly mopey and sad post all set to go, when The One Who Will Be scored the series-winner.

I’m still kind of speechless right now, so I’m just going to leave you with the immortal Svend Karlsen:

Wow.

Last night’s game was possibly the best game of the first round. Seriously. It was a classic goalie deathmatch, where only one mistake would mean certain doom for one of the combatants–that mistake came in the second period, where David Clarkson found a chink in Cam Ward’s armor and managed to get one past him.

It was a great game, it really was. I’m disappointed that the Hurricanes lost, but I really can’t fault them except for one thing:

Kaberle?  Really?  Really?  Who decided on that? Last night was a game where Anton Babchuk’s slapper from the point would have been a great weapon to have in the arsenal, rather than Atlanta Frankie’s “couldn’t outrun a comatose tree sloth” excuse for a slapshot.

But eh. The game was exciting, the kind of excitement that had me going outside for a smoke afterward and left me with a satisfied afterglow–and I don’t feel guilty, either.

Sunday’s game is going to be a brawl; I can’t wait.

OK, now you’ve all gone and done it. You’ve all gone and pissed me right the hell off.

Hurricanes: HOW THE FRELL DO YOU BLOW A LEAD LIKE THAT?!  I was ready to march down to the RBC Center and slap some people, starting with Paul “defensive shell” Maurice. Really–when you are up 3-0, you DON’T sit back and camp the lead, especially against a team whose top line has outscored yours by 10-1! You press the attack. You keep it moving. You DON’T camp your own zone and pray that the clock runs out before your lead does! Even I know that, and I’m not a coach!

ATTN CHAIRMAN MO: THE DEFENSIVE SHELL SUCKS. STOP USING IT.

And then we have the game-winning goal, which has all and sundry Devils fans (and Marty Brodeur) crying and whining “WAAAAAAAH INTERFERENCE WAAAAAAAH!”  Yeah, I really loved turning on Hockey This Morning on XM and hearing that tool Charles from Texas talking about how “Bro-DURR” was interfered with when the video shows that the contact was incidental AND that Brodeur was outside the crease by two and a half frellin’ feet! This is NOT Republican Rome, and Martin Brodeur is NOT one of the Plebeian Tribunes. He is not inviolate, people. No goalie is inviolate when he leaves his crease. Get over it. Now our third goal?  OK, there you could make a very compelling case for interference. But the game-winner?  That’s just sour grapes, right there.

MEMO TO DEVILS FANS AND CHICO RESCH: THERE WAS NO FRELLING INTERFERENCE. NOBODY OUTSIDE OF YOUR LITTLE BOX AGREES WITH YOU, WHICH SHOULD TELL YOU SOMETIHNG. WATCH THE VIDEO INSTEAD OF CRYING.

My final dose of ire is directed at the classless bags of mostly ass that decided to embarrass me by throwing crap at Brodeur after the game.  What the hell were you morons thinking?!  Were you thinking?  By what frakking measure is it acceptable to throw things at an opposing player?  I wouldn’t even condone acting like that toward the Detroit gods-damned Red Wings–AND I HATE THEM! I would love to see one of you drooling garbage-chucking idiots try to justify to me how it is acceptable to throw things at an opposing player as he leaves the ice. Really. And try to do it without calling me a puckbunny or telling me I don’t know anything about hockey (thus exposing yourself as a complete know-nothing).

And, in closing, I just want to say thank you to Mike Keenan for trading Roberto Luongo OUT of the Southeast Division. Sorry, Blues fans.

.02? What?

Back meds kicking in. Must go to bed. Post in morning.

Two things are going to have to change if the Hurricanes want to have a chance to win this series:

The top line has got to be the top line. They have got to score. So far, they have one point–Eric Staal’s game-tying goal in Game 2. That’s gotta change before Tuesday’s game, or the Hurricanes don’t have a snowball’s chance in Timbuktu of coming out on top. We can’t expect guys like Chad LaRose and My Man Ryan Bayda and Tim motherfrakkin’ Gleason to pick up all the slack.

The defense has gotta get their head straight. Brian Gionta’s goal in the first doesn’t happen if Joe Corvo clears the puck like he’s supposed to rather than lobbing a softball that Gionta snapped up while skating past Ray Whitney (who, for all intents and purposes, just stood there and watched). Travis Zajac’s game-winner in OT doesn’t happen if Anton Babchuk gets his stick on it rather than letting his stick deflect it right onto Zajac’s stick and just watching as he picks up his own frellin’ rebound and pots it in.

So…yeah. The ‘Canes played decently in front of the fans at the RBC last night, but the defensive lapses and the lack of scoring from the top guys are going to kill them if they don’t act now to correct it.

Just sayin’.

I missed the first and half the second period last night; I blame my husband, who picked me up at work and went around half the frakkin’ planet just to get to the Cook Out on Western Boulevard when he could have just gotten off on Wade Avenue and taken 440 to Western.

The score was tied. The Canes finally realized that they were in the playoffs and bothered to show up–as opposed to Game 1, where only Cam showed up. The defense was much tighter, and Pitkanen actually showed a little fire–it resulted in some less than stellar penalties, but it was nice to see him showing a little anger out there.

I will be honest: I almost had a heart attack during the pre-OT intermission, when ChuckandtheletterK was replaying David Martin’s goal from the first period–which, I guess, is what I get for focusing more on WoW and less on the game. Bad AQ, no smoke. I did pay closer attention in OT, though, and got so excited when Tim Gleason scored that I accidentally dismounted from my bronze drake at 30,000 feet over Icecrown.

Uhh…oops.

And I’ve got tomorrow off, so if I can’t score a ticket and a lift to the game* I’ll be camped in front of my computer grinding dailies and listening to Chuck.

*:My car got taken out in a traffic accident back in November.

(apologies to Dives and the other folks from Wipe Club. This transcript also may or may not reflect actual game events)

Maurice:  Odd groups got left. Even groups got left. That means 1,3,5,7; left. 2,4,6,8; right. 7 & 8 are Devils groups.

*muttering*

Maurice: OK listen the [censored] up. We are going to skate very very slowly–and by slowly, I mean [censored] slow. If you take a penalty, it means that you are going to lose 50 DKP, because you didn’t know what the [censored] to do.  *looks over at defence* And watch the [censored] puck!

Francis: If you get shoved into the Devils bench, you’re going to lose 50 DKP again because you weren’t wherever the [censored] you were supposed to be.

*murmured question from LaRose*

Rowe: There is no playoff reset. There’s some [censored] about a playoff reset when people don’t know how to manage their game. After the first two faceoffs, then you can start taking shots on him–assuming you know how playoff games work, and you don’t overthink.

(later, during the <s>raid</s> game….)

Maurice: (after calling time-out in the first) OK, rush him, shoot on him, then during period 2 we’re going to take as many shots on him as possible. You want to even the score as fast as possible. Have your shot totals up every time, four lines, play through your pain…

(during 2nd period)

Maurice: Crash the net, hits, take the body!  I don’t see enough shots!  More shots!

(30 seconds later)

Maurice: Come on, more defensive shell! Hit ‘em like you mean it! You’ll have time to rest before Period 3 while I try to come up with a better gameplan.

(during 2nd intermission)

Maurice: Remember to use all of your playoff-prolonging abilities. Feign Death, Vanish, [censored] Fade…anything that you can use to reset the playoffs.

*Rowe and Francis look at Maurice like he’s lost his mind* *players stare blankly*

Maurice: With 40 seconds left, you will stop shots–until then, more shots. More shots, more shots.

(3rd Period)

Maurice: Come on, more shots! *3 minutes later* K, stop shots.

(Whitney scores)

Maurice: Take that, Brodeur!

*guys on bench wonder wtf they’ve gotten themselves into*

Maurice:  Staal, run to center ice! Cole, run to center ice! Ruutu, center ice! Babchuk, center ice! Seidenberg, center ice! Whatever the [censored] you do, do NOT stand next to other people! *players roll their eyes and spread out* Staal, center–just take the faceoff.

*Rowe facepalms, Francis whistles idly, McCarthy sits in the booth, palm over face, thinking “Some blogger is going to have a field day with this tomorrow.”*

Maurice: Go away from their bench, Staal! Watch the puck!

Rowe: Devils.

Francis: Babchuk just got shoved into the Devils bench.

Maurice: WHO THE [censored] WAS THAT?!  BABCHUK? WHAT. THE [censored]! LEFT SIDE! EVEN SIDE! MANY DEVILS, NOW, HANDLE IT!

*Devils score*

Maurice: [long stream of expletives] THAT’S A [censored] 50 DKP MINUS! WHAT THE [censored] WAS THAT [censored]?! If you stand in the right place, there is no [censored] way that you will end up into the goddamn other team’s bench! Whatever hits, [censored] blocker swipe, whatever the [censored]! It’s like one in a [censored] million! From the left faceoff circle, into center ice, into the [censored] Devils bench, it’s not even remotely imaginable!

********************************************

And I would about say that sums up last night’s game, which I had the displeasure of listening to while going on a Naxxramas raid. Original Wipe Club raid wipe coverage Here–warning, it’s not work-safe.

Yes, this is kinda lame. But since the ‘Canes didn’t bother frellin’ showing up last night, I can’t be arsed to post anything decent for them today.

I finally get a decent amount of time to devote to the blog again (now that I’ve finished my first six months at the yob), and my back goes kablooie again.

I spend 2 days flat on my back and another 2 weeks trying to stretch and traction it back into shape with the help of meds, and the ‘Canes make the playoffs.

The ‘Canes make the playoffs, and I finally have a decent amount of time to devote to the blog again.

And we’re facing the Devils again. What a coincidence among coincidences.

I’m not very happy that the ‘Canes decided to lay down on the job in front of Michael Leighton on the last day of the season. I caught bits and pieces of the game while I was at work, and wasn’t really thrilled with what I was hearing.

HOWEVER:

I will give Paul Maurice due props for the work he and his staff have done with the team so far. Make no mistake, I miss Peter Laviolette and I will never speak ill of him (unlike, say, the Great Leader)–but he should have been allowed to leave after the 2006-2007 season. Coaches like Lavi and my favourite Spicy Italian, John Tortorella, who coach very aggressive and unadaptable styles of play, have a very short half-life unless everything goes just right all the time. The minute things go wrong, the rate of decay begins to speed up until you have what amounts to gold turning into lead.

Chairman Mo, on the other hand, has surprised me by showing that he’s learned to adapt to what he has to hand. I still see fragments of the defensive shell that drove me barking mad during his first go-round, but this time it’s actually doing something that I never thought I would see.

It’s working.

That said; for me to eat any crow when it comes to Paul Maurice as Hurricanes coach, the crow’s going to have to be served in the bowl of the Stanley Cup after a Game 6 win. And if it’s delicately seasoned with the bitter tears of Red Wings fans, so much the better.

Which brings me to my next topic as we head into the playoffs: Hate vs. Respect. For this, I will bring out Crown’s Exhibit A: The Detroit Red Wings.

As anyone alive knows, I hate the Red Wings and have for almost 30 years. I hated them when the Norris family was running the team into the ground. I hated them when they went from asstacular to decent. I hated them when they won their last 4 Cups. I’ve always just flat never liked them.

But I respected them.  I respected them when they were shitty, because of their history. I respected them when they started getting decent, because they were trying. And I respect them now, because they’re an example of what happens when you formulate a plan and stick with it. They’re an example of great scouting (take a look at when Henrik Zetterberg and Pavel Datsyuk were taken in their drafts–not even Lou Lamoriello could pull off something like that). They’re an example of astute management. And they’re an example of outstanding development and coaching.

Do I wish my team was the Red Wings?  If you mean, “do I wish that my team would actually try to emulate a team growth model that works” (hint to ‘Canes manglement: that means “knock off the penny-ante bulldada and invest in some actual scouting and development”), then the answer is yes. If you mean, “do I wish that the fanbase was loaded with the hockey equivalent of Wal-Mart UNC fans”, then the answer is of course oh hell no. I’d like to not be embarrassed by my fellow fans, thanks.

(aside: What do a State fan and a UNC fan have in common?  Neither of them went to UNC. *rimshot*)

Thank you, I’ll be here all playoffs. Pass the mead.