Sweet Tea, Barbecue, and Bodychecks

(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.

(Note: I wrote this as Game 5 was winding down. I present it now, with minor changes.)

And the Malik Effect claims another victim. Congratulations, Red Wings.

As much as I hate that team, as much as I think that their fans are (with a few exceptions–three of whom are bloggers) a bunch of drooling moronic n00blets with no class who know exactly dick-all about hockey, as much as I was hoping for them to get pwned a la 1995, I must speak truth here:

They–the Red Wings–are consummate professionals, and in these Finals they gave a clinic in how to completely and totally dismantle a team that had become–and let us be honest here–a disorganized gang that at times in this series could barely find their own nutsacks with a flashlight and a sat-nav unit. I must applaud that.

Anyone who is a fan of the sport must, in my opinion, rise above their hatred and applaud the skill and professionalism shown by the Red Wings. Valour of course doesn’t enter into this equation, not this time–they didn’t have a captain who willed himself to play on one functional leg. They didn’t have to overcome any great adversity or even have to battle back from being on the ropes. They were simply given a task, and like the band of trained assassins that they are the Red Wings terminated their target with extreme prejudice.

I must raise a glass to that. As a fan of hockey, as an admirer of individual skill, I must salute that. I must admire that.

I never said I had to like it, of course. But I must–and I do–respect it.

I must also raise a glass to the Pittsburgh Penguins, who could have rolled over and died. No lie kids, they really looked like they were going to shrivel on the vine much as the Senators did last season. But they didn’t. And do not let my satirical e-mail to NHL Live earlier today fool you–I was cheering for the Pens, and foolishly thought that I’d be able to make a “prediction” and have it fall flat to force a seventh game. I was hoping that that triple-overtime deflation would take the wind out of the Red Wings’ sails and propel the Penguins on to an eventual win.

Sadly, I was the one disappointed. Congratulations, Red Wings.

Thank you, and good night.

Yes, I watched. I forced myself to watch, even though a large part of me wanted to put a brick through the TV when Doc Emrick started going on and on about how everyone wanted this matchup.

Everyone except, of course, for me. But we’ve already covered that.

Marc-Andre Fleury came charging out of the tunnel, as he always does, and took a tumble–I knew it was a bad sign, especially when the Unspeakables staffer/puck patrol/whatever guy camped right by the exit started laughing at him (and I wouldn’t have noticed had the camera not been on dudeman at the time). Real classy, that.

The ceremonial puck-drop was a nice touch, but fuck me did Steve Yzerman ever look tiny next to Mario Lemieux!

Overall impressions of the game:

The Penguins played a good first period, which seemed to set the Unspeakables back a pace. During intermission I’m sure all the guys that were around back then brought up 2002 and how the ‘Canes managed to hang with them until that third overtime, because second and (especially) third periods brought the pain.

The Pens played like they were young. The Unspeakables played like they wanted to show that their e-peens really are as big as their Central Division record indicates. It was disconcerting, watching the Penguins run around in the last period like they were just flat out of gas.

Work with me people, I’m really trying to mute the bile here.

*ahem* Anyway.

One thing that really bugged me about the Pens’ lineup was Michel Therrien’s decision to start messing with the line combos. Crosby with Hossa and Dupuis works–why mess it up by putting Crosby with Malkin? Stick with what works, chief.

Record of note: Since 1996, the Unspeakables are 13 and 1 in the Cup Finals. And yes, that blemish gives me a little bit of satisfaction.

Game 2 on Monday at 8. Let’s see if the Pens can turn it around.

The Finals. Yay.

The nightmare will soon be over. As happy as I am for my wife, I just find it so hard to seriously get behind the Pens because of the gross overexposure of Sidney Crosby (and of course there’s that whole Orpik thing. And the flamage I got from a few folks when the Pens signed Billy the Rapist–who, thankfully, is back in prison like the serial recidivist that he is). But I’m on their bus pro forma, because of who they are facing:

Detroit. 

Anyone who can read knows how I feel. I wish the Hurricanes had won in 2002, because then the Yankees Fans of the NHL wouldn’t immediately accuse me of lying when I say that I have hated their team to increasing degrees for the last 27 years (i.e. since I started watching hockey–I am 37. For Detroit fans, that means I started watching hockey when I was 10).

Such idiocy has, rather than shut me up, only served to inflame my hatred to the point where if Al Qaeda had a hockey team and they were playing the Red Wings, I would be in the stands wearing a burqa and holding a sign saying “GO OSAMA GO” in Pashtun, Arabic, and whatever other language they wanted me to say it in because I am many things–but despite what those arrogant frontrunning e-peen challenged bullies would have you believe, I am not a liar.

So, I’ll be watching the Finals, but for me it will be like watching a slow-motion train wreck because I am lukewarm at best toward one team and hate the other team to the point of near-irrationality.

Hopefully it ends quickly. Go Pens.

Blah.

I had this big rant all ready to post, but I decided to just fuhgeddaboudit.

Maybe I’ll post it later.

Good luck, Pens fans. You will need it.

Don Waddell asked to accept a lateral transfer — Bristol

Wow, somebody in Atlanta Spirit’s brain trust has (apparently) finally pulled his/her head out and realized that they need a GM with a clue for the Thrashers.

Of course, this being Atlanta I’m sure there’s going to be some kind of strange-ass soap opera surrounding all of this (and the hiring of the new GM).

Also, Versus was kind enough to release their Conference Finals schedule:

Set your DVRs.

So this morning I pull up the N&O to see if Luke’s come back from his vacation with anything new.

And I see this.

OK, I can see Glen Wesley coming back. But Bret of the Gimpy Hip?  WHY, for the love of Tyr, is he even mentioned?  Dude needs to RETIRE.

As we no doubt have already heard, the Warchief skated with the Hurricanes who were picked for their respective national teams for the World Championships in Quebec City–he’ll be back in time for next season, which is a plus.

Also: Luke comments in Lord Stanley’s Blog about the kick-ass job Versus is doing covering the playoffs–and they are doing a very good job (but Brian Engblom has got to get a new hairdo–the mullet is starting to look rather like a headcrab). Normally I take shots at Versus for the way they cover the NHL, but they’re doing a good job this season.

Now, if only Versus was more widely carried and didn’t show the same 5 or 6 teams over and over again during the regular season….

OK, so.

OK, let me see if I have this right:

Canadiens fans boo another country’s anthem before home games in the playoffs–and have to be told by the PA dude not to do so.

They torch police cars, loot stores, and cause general mayhem after winning the first freaking round.

One of them chucks a beer into the penalty box, to cheers from his seatmates (and nothing was done by Bell Centre staff, from what I saw–except of course to clean the glass off after the game).

Six years ago, several of them tossed ‘nanners and sling racial slurs at a black player after an OT win during the second round–and the rest of that lot claimed that it was really the opposing team’s fans in disguise, just trying to make the Canadiens look bad.

And then of course we have Jack Todd. I’ll stop myself before I go off on that jackass again.

And they have the nerve to call us rednecks?

WE didn’t riot after winning the first round. We didn’t even riot after winning the Finals in 2006. The ONE time I heard some asshat in the stands refer to a black player with a racist epithet, everyone sitting around him threatened to throw the toolbag over the glass so he could call the player that again to his face–and when toolbag demurred, he was told to STFU and stop embarrassing all the rest of us.

I’m sure some Habs troll will show up and say “I won’t be back, but I wanted to say GO HABS and we are more passionate than you are because we do all these things”, but you know what?  Fuck y’all in your ears. I’d rather be classy than “passionate”, if “passionate” means “being on a level with the drunken thugs that invaded the RBC during the 2006 ECF.”

I was cheering for the 10-megaton surface burst in this series (because I have no love for Montreal or Philly), but I may have to rethink my position.

Actually…no. I’m still barracking for the 10MT surface burst.

And the Rangers take on the Pens (and the Sharks throw down with the Stars) in their respective Game 1s tonight. Give ‘em Hell, Harry.

Let me keep this short and sweet:

1) Christobal Huet is not the answer for the Caps. He got pwned on that dribbler of a first Pflyers goal, and he got pwned on the series-winner in the exact same way that Cory Stillman pwned him in 2006.

2) I liked how Ovechkin and Kolzig stayed out to applaud the fans after the handshakes–I didn’t, however, like how the fans just kept their hands in their pockets. C’mon kids, your team went from dead last at Thanksgiving to the third seed in the East, they battled back from being down 3-1….and you can’t even give ‘em a little love?

3) Better luck next year. Except, of course, against the Hurricanes.

On to Round 2. Give ‘em Hell, Harry.

Yeah, so I watched regulation and half of the first OT in last night’s Caps-Flyers game.

The Caps, barring a miracle, are toast. Pahtoleipä. Труп. Erledigt. You get the picture.
The problem the Caps had last night is best summed up in the following video:

Not penalties per se–but sloppy penalties.

Now, I will freely admit that the penalty that Kimmo Timonen drew on Kozlov in the third was (as Ed Olczyk put it) a wrong call, and the interference call on Eminger in the first was iffy–but That Hasenfratz Putz was working the game, so I expected at least one or two blown calls. But the rest were just sloppiness on the part of the Caps. Two Too Many Men penalties are possibly the most glaring sign of a lack of cohesion on the Capitals’ bench right now. The Caps are in complete disarray right now, Huet is once again showing that he’s not really playoff material, and I expect the Pflyers to close them out on Saturday.

Memo to occasional (not to mention unintelligent and uncreative) troller capsfan88:

Yes, playoffs are fun–but actually winning a series?  That’s even more fun.

Just sayin’.

Caps-Flyers tonight at 7 on Versus, followed by Falmes/Sharks at 10 with Hockey Central sandwiched in between–hopefully they get Manny Legace in studio rather than Rick DiPietro (who, though handsome, has all the personality of wallpaper paste).

TSN will be covering Avs/Wild Game 5 and Ducks/Stars Game 4–damn shame I don’t have Centre Ice.

Let’s go to the videotape:

As we see here, Patrick Thoresen took a slapshot to the neuticles and collapsed in obvious pain. The contortion of his face suggests that he was also making unpleasant noises indicative of being in a great deal of pain.

There should have been a whistle, but there wasn’t for reasons that aren’t important right now, and the Capitals scored on the play.

The non-whistle doesn’t bother me so much–it was a discretionary call, and the officials didn’t, from what I see, notice what had happened. What bothers me was the veiled assertion by Bristol North mediot Glen Healy that Thoresen had taken a dive–an assertion that he reiterated after the goal was scored when the poor bastard was being helped to the bench, still doubled over.

Did Healy know at the time that Patrick Thoresen may wind up losing his left nut?  No. But not knowing the severity of a guy’s injury does NOT, in my humble opinion, give one a free pass to make a stupid comment like “they better be doing leg surgery on him” and then follow it up with more excoriation while the poor bastard is STILL doubled over and barely able to make it to the locker room without assistance from two teammates and the trainers. You don’t go down like that and STAY DOWN if you are not having a serious issue. Not even a gutless diving puke like Darcy Tucker is stupid enough to pull that stunt.

Of course, this is the same asshat that cried and whined on the air over my boy’s epic shootout goal back in 05-06, so I guess something like this should come as no surprise.

Fuck you, Glen Healy. Fuck you right in your ear.

(“High Hopes”, by Pink Floyd. From their 1994 Album The Division Bell)

This is about how I feel right now. I honestly think that it would have been better if the Hurricanes had just imploded when the Warchief went down. It would have hurt less that way, because we at least would have known, going into the last day of the season, that all our dreams were torn asunder.

But no. We had to give it up to the Florida fucking Panthers. Nathan fucking Horton said after the game that it was nice to be in a position to decide who goes to the playoffs–and I knew at that moment that they were going to as good as throw the game tonight just to spite us.

I was not disappointed. Perhaps I’m taking it a little hard. I’m sure that by the end of the summer I’ll have a far more rational viewpoint. But right now, at this moment, you cannot in any way shape form or fashion convince me that the Panthers did not deliberately tank that game tonight to twist the lemon juice-coated salt crystal that they plunged into our hearts Friday night.

A couple weeks before the World Series in 1986, Bill Buckner sat for a TV interview–in that interview, he said that he thought the RedSox would win the WS, and he said that something crazy would have to happen like Mookie Wilson hitting a grounder between his [Buckner's] legs with the bases loaded for them to lose.

We all know what happened. I am feeling like that right now, because I had to open my yap back in the middle of March and say that the only way the Capitals would win the Division is if Raleigh were obliterated by a 10MT surface burst. Neither Buckner nor I caused the events that we spoke of, of course–we were simply the messengers, as it were.

Friday night, the bomb hit. Tonight, what didn’t get vapourized got levelled by the shockwave.

Fuckin’ Panthers.

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?

DeCock: Sean Hill popped for 20 games for violating the NHL’s substance abuse policy.

Daaaaaaamn!  See, this is what happens when I have to work all the time–I miss stuff like this until strange hours when I finally get home.

So, I’m now left to wonder if Hilly broke his brain at the same time he broke his face, way back in the Greensboro days.

According to the talking heads on XM, this suspension wasn’t a sudden thing–it had been a while in coming, and Hilly had been appealing and appealing and appealing. With his appeals finally exhausted, all that was left was to announce the suspension–and just in time for the Sabres to eliminate the Isles tonight.

(Guess the Sabres got lucky, huh? /rolleyes)

Moving right along: The Nashville Predators got bounced by the San Jose Sharks tonight, in a result that mirrored their series from last season.

I think that Uncle Dave needs to finally look at replacing Barry Trotz as coach. I like Trotz, I think he’s done a good job getting the team off the ground–but he just can’t seem to get them to the next level, even though the team has gotten progressively better with each season in the Music City. For the Preds to successfully build a consistently strong fanbase, they need to have somebody behind the bench that can get the team out of the first round of the playoffs. Long-term success for the Predators has to be measured in playoff-round advancement (as it was for the Hurricanes), not in “just getting there”.

And the Ducks’ series with the Wild took an interesting twist during last night’s game 5 (which the Ducks won to send the Wild to the golf course) when a fight broke out during warm-ups. Expect suspensions from that one soon (yeah as if).

How slack am I, yo?

Mike Chen is running Rawk The Puck ’07, taking over for Chris Young (who is wicked busy). Yours truly is taking part again, just like I did last season–head on over and check it out. Listen, vote, laugh.