And, as proof, I present to you the “Monty Python” dream I referenced on today’s e-maul to NHL Live:
(note: this was back in August of 2005. Thus the pre-Cup Hurricanes)
[Hurricanes are driving down Wade Avenue in a minivan. WALLY, BOB, and SKIP are clapping coconuts together, yadda yadda]
A. WARD: And that, my captain, is how we know the Lightning to be Stanley Cup Champs.
BRIND’AMOUR: This new learning amazes me, Wardo. Explain again how the Left-Wing Lock may be employed to prevent scoring.
A. WARD: Oh, certainly, sir.
HEDICAN: Look, guys!
[The Hurricanes see the RBC Center in the distance]
WALLY: It’s only a model.
BRIND’AMOUR: Shhh! ‘Canes, I bid you welcome to your new home. Let us ride… to Camelot!
[Cut to the ice at the RBC Center, chorus line of Hurricanes players bursts into song]
We’re knights of the round table
We dance when e’er we’re able
We do routines and chorus scenes
With footwork impecc-able.
We dine well here in Camelot
We eat ham and jam and spam a lot
[shots of Hurricanes players in full gear dancing, cut briefly to Scott Stevens in the penalty box clapping]
We’re knights of the Round Table
ur shows are for-mid-able
Though many times we’re given rhymes
That are quite unsing-able
We’re opera mad in Camelot
We sing from the diaphragm a lot
[tapdancing, Niclas Wallin performing a little drum solo on several players' helmets before clocking Stormy over the head]
In war we’re tough and able
Between our quests we sequin vests
And impersonate Clark Gable
It’s a busy life in Camelot
ZIGOMANIS: I have to push the pram a lot.
[cut back to the minivan]
BRIND’AMOUR: Well, on second thought, let’s not go to Camelot — it is a silly place.
[Minivan drives off]Canes take on the Wild tonight at the RBC Center. Come on out and have a good time.
WTF is it about Florida that makes players on their teams so whiny?
Is it the water? Is it too much sun? Is there something being put in those fantastic Cuban sammiches? What is it?
Case in point: Saturday’s beatdown of the Lightning. Yeah, we pwned face, 5-1. Welcome to Tampa, Mike Smith. I’m sure you’ll be hopping a makeshift raft out of there at the earliest opportunity.
But yeah–the St. Pete Times’ mediot-in-chief, Damien Homerdero, is all up in the whining about the game:
Lightning defenseman Dan Boyle still cannot believe he was called for a roughing penalty on Carolina’s Erik Cole in the second period of Saturday night’s game.
“Cole’s about 240 (actually 205 pounds) and I put my hand on his face and he does a summersault, 360 (degrees) on the ice,” Boyle said. “He was shocked he didn’t get a (diving) call. I saw his face afterward.”
Hey Danny-boy, guess what:
You see where your stick is? You should have been called for a tripping penalty, son. Moreover, allow me to quote for you Rule 51.1 (that would be “Roughing”):
Roughing – Roughing is a punching motion with the hand or fist, with
or without the glove on the hand, normally directed at the head or face
of an opponent.
Now, in futbol that would be a facemask penalty. Is it a borderline call? Possibly–but I freaking watched you drop the glove and try to rip Cole’s face off, dude. You got caught, you got called, you sat for 2 minutes, so GTF over it.
And of course, Homerdero goes on to whine about our “reputation” as divers. Wow, I guess the Lightning are so desperate that their players, coaches, and even their mediots are hopping on the Panthers’ bus and calling us divers because they can’t come up with anything better.
Anyway–Canes are off until Wednesday, when they play the Thrashers in the ATL. Mahalo.
I knew it was going to be a rough day when I went to move a monitor at work and my back said “GUESS AGAIN KIDDO!”
So you can’t say that I wasn’t prepared for last night’s game–though I was hoping to actually be at the game, rather than flat on my back AGAIN praying that ibuprofen would be a suitable replacement for Flexeril. I’ll never snark about players with back issues again, I swear on my grandmother.
The game was a bit of a haze, and I admit that I got excited when my boy Malik saw the puck squirt out from under Hank’s pads and hauled it out the zone. I also winced and knew that things weren’t going to go well when I saw Sergei and the Bishop collide at the blue line. But I do remember enough through the endorphinic haze to be able to say that Cam singlehandedly kept the team in the game.
You heard me. It’s become fashionable for some of the less-intelligent citizens of the Caniac Nation to blame the goalie every time this team loses, but really. Cam played just as well as he’s played the last several games. The defence, on the other hand, decided to get an attack of the stupids–and the aliens brought back Atlanta Frankie too, which pissed me off–and I’m sure that the talking heads today will be all up in the “See, we told you they’re going to choke cos they lost their captain!” nonsense. Yeah, cos ONE GAME is really a representative sample.
But Saturday, the ‘Canes have a chance to redeem themselves by administering a world-class beatdown to the Lightning–which will start another nice win streak
Yeah, so last night was Tuomo Ruutu’s debut in the Sightless Eye.
I knew it was going to be interesting when I heard 96Rock’s Foster dub him “The Bishop” as I was driving home from work. I just didn’t know how interesting it would be.
Second shift, Ruutu rocked Colin White with a big hit (that he really should have been levied a boarding call for) and immediately endeared himself to the TSB Goon Squad (and everyone else in the arena). Mike Rupp responded by Orpiking Tim Gleason, who had to be helped off the ice with an unspecified head injury and didn’t return, and that little tease Bret Hedican made me think he was going to throw down in defence of his sidekick–but no, such was not to be. It was all just a tease. Get me all excited for null comma nichevo. Damn elves…can never trust ‘em. Especially when they own-goal and spoil the shutout.
So it was up to Wade Brookbank, who stepped to Rupp and administered a partial beatdown (I say partial, because it was more wrasslin’ match than fight). And that was the end of the first–more or less. The game settled down, more or less, in the second and third. The crowd was up in arms when three Devils basically held The Chosen One back while that whiny little bitch Marty Brodeur took a couple shots at him–Staal responded by going RAWR! and putting Brodeur on his ass (to the delight of the crowd and the dismay of Devils
homer colour dude Chico Resch). Ruutu wound up leaving the game toward the end of the third after Patrik Elias accidentally-on-purpose (IMO) clipped him by one eye with his stick.
The game went to OT, and Sergei Samsonov wound up potting the game-winner. And the Devils, after the game, actually had some praise for the ‘Canes:
“They played a lot better game — that’s the bottom line. That’s a different team than we’ve seen in the first three games. They played like the Carolina team we know. They were playing hard, they put a lot of good things out there, they were aggressive, and we didn’t come with the same desperation they did. And it showed.” — Jamie Langenbrunner
Why thank you. Thank you very much.
9 games to go until I render my final opinion of the Ruutu trade. Go Canes.
So this Saturday I had to watch the Caps-Canes barnburner on teh t00b–which robbed me of these choice comedic moments:
Olaf Kolzig throwing a little tantrum and breaking his stick after the Hurricanes’ fourth goal.
The goal horn at the RBC blowing a lung.
The Caps fans that bused in going home quietly. (I kid because I love, guys–srsly!)
A few drunk members of our nation’s military trying to re-enact the USO scene from “Apocalypse Now” with several members of the Storm Squad.
Well OK, that last one wasn’t comedic so much as pathetic, but you get the idea. The Hurricanes have been playing rather well since the Warchief went down–which apparently puzzles such luminaries (ha ha) as EJ Hradek, but doesn’t surprise me. I’d had a feeling that various guys (like Eric Staal) would step their games up, and I was right. I am right.
So tomorrow the Hurricanes face the Devils for the fourth (and last) time this season. The Devils let the Capitals get a point yesterday, which didn’t please me in the least. Hopefully they give us two points tomorrow night. Just sayin’.
First–the ‘Canes win a wild one at the RBC last night v. the Thrashers. Actually, it was wild only in that the entire first period was the Hurricanes throwing everything but the kitchen sink at Kari Lehtonen. In the second, they finally threw the sink at the guy and wound up winning 5-3. It was ONLY because Lehtonen was so on that first period that the score wasn’t something freaky like 15-3. The excuse given by the Thrashers’ broadcast team on Turner South was that the team is “distracted” by the whole Marian Hossa thing.
Bitch please! That’s not a distraction. Losing your Captain for the season? Now that is a distraction.
And speaking of the Warchief–Greatfather Bob is in town visiting his boy and grandkids (he was holding court at the RBC last night, according to several fans who stopped by to deliver their well-wishes), and had a little rap with Luke DeCock. Yes kids, the Warchief doesn’t want to take his recovery lying down; not a day after surgery, the man was already back to pumping some Fe:
“He’s struggling right now,” Bob Brind’Amour said. “He wants to do more than he should and he doesn’t realize it’s the healing process. The knee, when he ices it, it almost looks perfect. But then he walks and the blood gets in there and the fluid and it blows up.
“He got operated Friday afternoon. Saturday morning at 7:30, he’s lying on the floor in his bedroom and he’s lifting 55-pound weights. He’s got his leg up on a chair. I went up there and said, ‘You idiot. What are you doing?’ He’s so dedicated. He knows his body, but in this case he’s got to tone it down a bit.”
Our Warchief, ladies and gents. You can’t keep him down. Tomorrow, the Hurricanes take on the Capitals at the RBC–Puck drops at 5 PM, and the game is pretty close to sold-out according to Ticketbastard; so hurry up and get your tickets before the Caps Road Crew takes ‘em all up.
What a week:
My computer falls victim to the Great Collapsing Table Disaster.
I get smacked down hard by the flu.
The Warchief (well, his knee) falls victim to shithappensitis–contrary to what some foolio on on X Random Messageboard is positing–and all the talking heads pronounce the season over.
The Hurricanes win three straight–with the third game taking place ~2h after a State game–and effectively give the finger to the aforementioned talking heads. They’re not dead yet!
I’d say “cool”, but really only the last one is cool. The first three really suck.
Monday we’ll see if the ‘Canes can make it 4 in a row when they venture into the fetid swamps of The Garden State to take on the Devils.
So Tuesday night, the Hurricanes celebrate the arrival of their new comrades-in-arms by almost choking a three-goal lead to the Boston Bruins.
Last night, they celebrated my anniversary by beating the Pens down 4-2 and making Evgeni Malkin cry like a little bitch. Well OK, a big bitch.
In a development that has half the ASBOs in Western New York rejoicing in their MD20/20 (and has the more class-free members of the Pens Nation clapping for glee as well–my wife, OTOH, is none too happy), the Warchief is out for the season with a torn ACL. Was it a cheap hit? No. It was a “shit happens” thing–I didn’t see anything deliberate on the part of the Pens (as opposed, of course, to Brooks Orpik piledriving Erik Cole into the boards and breaking his neck–you still can’t convince me that it wasn’t deliberate).
Yes, I have a wife. Two of them! And a husband, and a husband-in-law too. Deal.
So yeah, anyway. The power play finally woke up last night, which was encouraging. It was very encouraging, but I won’t be fully encouraged until I see them keep it up.
Tomorrow night the ‘Canes will play the Panthers at the RBC. Wonder how long it’ll take before they get Vokoun to have another of his very entertaining meltdowns?
Yeah, so last night I went to the Canes-Rangers game. I was fairly fully expecting the ‘Canes to get pwned as they have just about every time they’ve played a game after a break, and hoping that Sean Avery would get a beatdown or three (dozen) just to break the monotony.
The fun started before the puck even dropped. No sooner had the lights come up and everyone gathered for the opening faceoff than Scott “Remo Williams” Walker and Sean Avery threw down. It wasn’t much of a fight, really. They wrestled a bit, and the linesmen immediately broke it up and sent them both to the penalty box for roughing. The real fun, however, was yet to come. Wade Brookbank and Colton Orr threw down at 3:41 of the first–Wade got his face pwned, and he and Orr made a date for later in the game.
After Remo laid a hit on Scott Gomez that had more than a little elbow action to it less than 45 seconds later, a writhing mass of players (or, to quote The Mighty Forslund, “a bevy of humanity”) congregated in the southwest corner of the rink and commenced to discussing the merits of said hit.
Birthday boy Tim Gleason waded in and wound up wrestling with Jaromir Jagr–and was summarily ejected for violating rule 47.16 (Third Man In).
Walker and Avery got into it again, and both got to have a sit-down for five minutes–well, except for Avery. He got
4610 and 2 just ahead of me for instigating (yeah I know, big shock there).
And about 9 minutes and change later, Orr and Brookbank stepped to each other for Round 2. That fight was a bit more even, for those who keep score at home. I could just hear Marv Albert and Ferdie Pacheco breaking it all down in my head, and decided that I better not go get another Diet Pepsi once I’d finished the one I was currently drinking.
Things settled down after that–some
cheatin’ wife-stealin’ no-good dirtbag who whined his way out of Hartford and deserves to have the air let out of his tires Ranger scored, people were falling down all over the place, and Bret of the Gimpy Hip not only played defence but he also made me laugh by first clotheslining Petr Prucha at the Hurricanes’ blueline and then giving him the Flying Buttcheek. If he’d thrown in a Stinkface for good measure, it would have brought the house down. Either that, or it would have made me fall out my chair laughing. One of the two.
The crowd was admittedly a bit on the light side (except in Section 328, which is always well-staffed and ready to overwhelm the audio pickups on Press Row), but they were really into it. The last minute of the game was pretty tense, as the Rangers pulled Lundqvist to get a 6-on-3 and even knocked Cam’s stick out of his hand for good measure–but the good guys prevailed in the end.
Thursday night should be interesting, as it always is when Chairman Mo comes back for a visit. Let’s just hope Sportsnet East doesn’t pre-empt the game for like NASCAR or something.
The Toronto Maple Leafs have finally fired their GM. — TSN I am amazed that it took them this long, really. Of course, with Dick Peddie doing his best to screw things up at every turn, my amazement is admittedly minor. Word on the street is that Chairman Mo is next on the block, but I have it on pretty good authority that he’s signed another contract with Old Scratch and will be in power for a bit longer.In other news, the Hurricanes ride a two-game win streak into the second half of a home-and-home with the Islanders tonight. No TV for this one, so if you are not in the house to get your life-size Ray Whitney figurine you will have to listen to ChuckandtheletterK on teh radio.Now watch, because I blogged on a game day the ‘Canes will get their collective face pwned. It would be my luck.
Yeah, we won. (7-2? Damn, why can’t we beat down like Atlanta or somebody like that?)
The team was much improved over Thursday night–though really, I don’t see how they could have been worse. Samsonov continues to impress as he has done since he got here, but I am still not 100% sold and will reserve final judgement until about the fourth game or so after the ASG.
I had a strange feeling about this game when Tripp was interviewing Ray Whitney during pre-game skate and I heard “The Rising” playing at the RBC (BTW, those of you who didn’t want to go because you’re bandwagon-hoppers who only support winners? You coulda offered me your seats. Just sayin’). It was like the Hurricanes were trying to recapture the mojo from 2006, and the aliens even obliged by bringing back Cup Run Frankie for the night. Thank you aliens!
The Oilers…oh man, oh man. I know none of their fans will ever believe me (not that I blame them), but I felt bad for them last night. Does MacT have pictures of Kevin Lowe or something, or is Lowe as insane as I think he is? Why does that man still have a job after almost seven years of futility? Did he inherit Chairman Mo’s contract with the devil or something?
The Hurricanes are off today, and play again on the Island come Monday–which should be fun. Let’s see of Joe, Lord of Evil decides to light ‘em up for old time’s sake.
Ah, who am I kidding?
I’m drinking heavily until further notice–hey, at least I’m not smoking again!
Mind you, what I am drinking heavily is Diet Cherry Coke so…
This morning while on the way to work, I was thinking two things:
1) I wish I had headphones, so I can listen to NHL Live at work (and write in to bust EJ Hradek’s Bristolero bollocks on a daily basis for being a dumbass).
2) Being a fan of a team is like being in an abusive relationship sometimes. You keep getting yanked around and beaten down and humiliated and generally treated like ass, but you stick around because you love your abuser and cling to the belief that s/he will change. Of course, sports teams are far far easier to leave than abusive partners–for one, you just have to cancel your season tickets or stop attending games. For the other, you need to get a restraining order or completely drop out of sight with the help of friends and family.
This is Year Two of the Five Year Grace Period, so really I don’t feel like I should be complaining. But at the same time, I’d just like to not get beat down every night–or at least, I’d like even a whiff of effort. That way I can say “Well, at least we tried, yanno?” Y’know what I mean?
Tonight, the Hurricanes are going to host the Oilers for the first time since the day I quit smoking. Wow, how times have changed–I no longer work at a Stop-n-Rob, the Hurricanes are officially in the Season From Hell v2.0, and the Oilers are having goalie issues like the Hurricanes are…only not quite to the extent that the Hurricanes are. And by making a blogpost on a game day, I have ensured that the Hurricanes will lose their fifth straight–no need to thank me, Oilers fans. I’m sure that your thanks will come in the form of my bleeding severed head on a pike in front of the Warchief’s house by noon tomorrow.
(Hey, they gotta blame somebody when they lose, right?)
No, I didn’t watch CSI instead of the game tonight. I fell asleep on the couch with the game on–and had this nightmare that Antoine Vermette laughingly dug my heart out of my chest with his stick and fed it to a raven wearing a Sens #7 jersey.
I woke up, the game was over, and I went “awwww man”. Then I remembered “hey wait a minute! I have a DVR and it recorded the game! Duh AQ.” So I hit the “Play From Beginning” button, and realized that it wasn’t a nightmare after all.
There were exactly TWO highlights (unless of course you’re a Sens fan):
1) Tim Gleason batting the puck out of the air and preventing what would have been a 6-1 game at the end.
2) Ray Whitney scoring on the powerless play.
That’s IT. It didn’t get so bad as seven guys in the penalty box together, but it was close–and the Hurricanes have their first 4-game losing streak since the Season From Hell. When Frankie Kaberle hung Cam out to dry on how many goals? I was through.
I watched the whole game–twice–in a definite display of Train Wreck Syndrome. My husband said “Didn’t you just watch this? Why are you subjecting yourself to it again?” And all I could say to that was “It’s like seeing a fat man in a ‘nanner-hammock–I just can’t help but stare while my brain screams in torment.”
And the best part? I get to do it all over again Friday night when the Oilers play us. Yay.
The Hurricanes will be playing the Sens tonight at ScotiaBank Place–I am betting that one team will have a losing streak snapped, and that it won’t be the Hurricanes.
Dude, is it The Season From Hell again? Did I fall into a time-dilation warp somewhere or something?
Whatever. I’ll be in my Thursday Night Living Room watching the carnage, with CSI recording on teh DVR as usual.
Anyway–the N&O this morning has an argh-ticle about the Hurricanes’ issues. One line that struck me as funny was “Help is on the way”–which had me picturing Scott “Remo Williams” Walker as Mrs. Doubtfire and led to the explosion of my mind’s eye in a thermonuclear fireball because….damn.
Moving right along. In an interview on 850 teh Buzz, JimR mentioned that everything was being looked at, including coaching, which brings me to possibly the first truly salient point I’ve made all season:
I think Lavi is being kept on the shelf past his expiry date.
There, I said it. I am eternally grateful to Lavi for 2006, I really am. I also like how he turned the team around after the 8-year trainwreck that was Chairman Mo. But I’ve finally decided to give in to the nagging voice in the back of my subconscious that keeps telling me that Peter Laviolette is one of those coaches who has a distressingly short shelf-life and say “He doesn’t suck, but he’s got a shorter lifespan than a Nexus Six.” I mean, this is the longest coaching tenure he’s had with any team.
I think that JimR should try to find a way to have Lavi exit gracefully (as gracefully as a coach can exit anyway), and get new blood behind the bench. If it takes another season, so be it, but the Hurricanes need to find a replacement and fast, and they need to go outside the organization to find that replacement (like they did when they brought Lavi in).
Do I think that the players hate him? No. I don’t get that vibe. But I do think that his message has worn thin. I do think that he has lost the players in the locker room–including (perhaps especially) the Village Elders–and I do think that it’s time for him to move on.
Idiots and know-nothings can say what they want. Pundits and crazed Magyars can bag the goalies and blast the defence (not that the defence doesn’t deserve a little blasting) and whatever, but I think that change in this case needs to be effected at the top.
So, tonight we shall see what we shall see I guess.
Note to self: (CSI + (mute + closed-caption)) + (ChuckandtheletterK + volume2) + ((Cat * 2) / (lap + tummy)) + OT game-winner = ((pain + claw-marks)2) + (band-aids2 + Neosporin)
Yes, I watched CSI in the living room while I had ChuckandtheletterK on in the computer room–Mmmmm, CSI (my new favourite show) and hockey. Two great tastes that go great together.
Before the game, Dave Shoalts of the Globe and Mail decided to level yet another pathetic blast at the Hurricanes–yes kids, he trotted out the same old lame-ass NASCAR smack. Oh yeah, and he mentioned two of the three ACC teams here in the Triangle. Hey dumbass, you forgot NCSU.
Of course, this is the same fuckwad that said two seasons ago that we don’t deserve a hockey team down here (oh, excuse me–he said that we’re “not a hockey market”, as if there’s such a huge distinction) because an RBC securebot didn’t immediately recognize Bret of the Gimpy Hip’s father-in-law (scroll down to to the entry from 25 November 2005), so of course I wasn’t exactly surprised to see yet more effluent issue forth from his pen. Dave, you’re an idiot. You’re a pathetic execrable geographically-challenged1 Jack Todd wannabe, except that you pilot the failboat when it comes to the ability to be petty and nasty. That, and you’re not a filthy deserter either. Actually, that last part is a plus. But you’re still captain of the USS Failing Away.
p.s. Thank you Toronto for the two points. We appreciate ‘em greatly.
1: As I have said many times before–the closest track is in Charlotte, which is two hours away. Not only that, but the Leafs’ TV rightsholder asked the NHL to push back the start time of a Leafs game to accomodate the broadcast of a NASCAR race in the GTMA (which I will keep mentioning until the end of time, so get over it people). So take that NASCAR garbage, fold it until it is all sharp corners, and shove it where the goal light doesn’t shine kthxbye.
So the guys are currently en route back to Raleigh, and will be off until Tuesday when Chairman Mo (the winningest and losingest coach in Whalercanes history) comes to town with the Leafs. Should be an interesting one.