No, I am not going to post NEDM.
My video card (and, possibly, my motherboard) decided to commit seppuku on me the other night while I was trying to solo my way through Scholomance.
So, that is why my posting has been pretty nonexistent at the start of Training Camp, and why I’ll be incommunicado for the next few days while I get the technical issues rectified. I’ll try to post from the husband’s computer (like now), but I of course make no promises.
When I read in the paper at work this morning that Mark Cuban joined a group trying to buy the Pens from Mario Lemieux and his group, I almost exploded with glee.
Friends and neighbours, if it happens this is possibly the best thing that could happen to the NHL ever in terms of getting the League back on the map here in the States. Mark Cuban may be annoying (if you’re not a Mavs fan–and sometimes he’s annoying even if you are a Mavs fan), but the man can do one thing better than anyone in the NHL can do:
He can market a team.
I always joked with my friends that if I ever landed a billion or so dollars and were able to buy the ‘Canes, I’d want to be an owner like Mark Cuban (only without the constant fanboyish pissing-off of League high-ups).
I really hope for all our sakes that this bid goes through, because finally the NHL will have somebody in its ownership ranks with the vision, the drive, and the charisma to help get this sport out of its doldrums of obscurity.
Go Mark Go!
(post title courtesy Carbon Leaf)
I was dinkin’ around teh intarnet today, and came across this little gem on a hockey board from some random Florida bitterman:
Good Luck you fans in Vancouver. Luongo was a great goalie here in Fla but the incessant whining about his contract grew quite old!! He got bad advice from his agent and now he has to deal with it. He and his agent thought they could milk the Panthers out of millions he didn’t deserve having NEVER played a playoff game. You will see what you are getting and wait until he has to sign a contract. he will ask for the moon with nothing to show behind him
It was all I could do to keep from pointing and laughing at this guy–I mean, hello? Luongo’s the only friggin’ reason the Panthers stayed one step above the basement the last three seasons! Nothing to show? You’re kidding, right? Your top defensive pairing consists of Mike Van Ryn and
the bastard lovechild of Henry Rollins and Huey Lewis Sean Hill, and you talk about how Luongo is no good?
Excuse me for a moment, I think I’m about to lose bladder control from laughing so hard.
Give it up, Florida fans. Roberto Luongo is a franchise goaltender, and Keenan just threw him to a team with some actual talent (and Nolan Baumgartner) to put in front of him–and you have the bollocks to bash the guy?
I hope the ‘Canes give every season-ticket holder a replica Cup ring, just so I can wave mine in your faces and say “SEE WHAT YOU WON’T BE GETTING FOR A GOOD LONG WHILE?” I mean, seriously.
It would be so fitting–so very very fitting–to have a Panthers-Canucks Final, with a Luongo-backstopped Canucks team beating the crap out of the Panthers. Then we’d see who has “nothing to show behind him”.
Anyway. The length isn’t so bad, but the money is kinda stupid for a defenseman–just in me opinion. And before ANY of you mooks say anything, I did make a similar comment about another defenseman’s contract back last summer (in a post that, for some reason, Blogger’s decided to eat).
The ‘Canes also made qualifying offers to some core young guys on the team. Some folks aren’t really thrilled about Chad LaRose getting a QO, but really? He’s one of those energy guys that you kinda need to have on your team. Never going to be a huge scorer, but you need him to help keep things loose.
OBTW: This blog’s going to be moving soon. Will post new URL when I get everything set up and ready to go.
Back in December 2000, I was watching Sportscenter–back when they actually gave ten minutes a show to hockey. You know, the high and far-off times when dinosaurs roamed the earth.
Anyway. They showed a highlight from a Nashville-Detroit game; specifically, a fan in the stands who had a sign that said “Dear Santa, for Christmas all I want is to beat the Red Wings”.
Nashville won that game, by the way.
That night, I was yakkin’ with some of my gaming buddies on IRC–and I set the topic of the channel we were on to “Dear Santa, for Christmas all I want is for Marek Malik to make Chris Pronger his bitch.”
I was, of course, joking.
One of the guys on the channel said “Uhhh, AQ? I don’t think Malik will be making anyone his bitch.”
My retort: “Well then, Pronger can be MY bitch.”
And we laughed. Ever since then, Chris Pronger has been known as My Bitch. When he won in Salt Lake City in 2002, he became My Golden Bitch.
Which brings me to…now.
Mrs. Bitch has decided that she doesn’t like Edmonton (despite the fact that it has the world’s largest shopping mall), and so she’s told hubby “Ask for a trade, or I walk.” And My Golden Bitch has decided to be Lauren’s Golden Bitch and say “Yes dear.”
This is what you get when you marry a puckbunny, kids. And this is why the Whalers shipped him out for what wound up turning into Rod Brind’amour years ago–BAD. DECISION-MAKING. SKILLS.
I don’t understand what his damn issue is, anyway. If I were a player, I would feel HONORED to play in the Northlands Coliseum 41 (or more) nights a season. HONORED, I tell you–if I couldn’t play for the ‘Canes, I’d definitely want to play in the City of Champions. And if I were My Golden Bitch (hereinafter shortened to MGB), I’d tell the wife “I’ll send you back to Missouri where you can see all your friends and old boyfriends and daddy and mummy and whatnot, and I’ll fly you up here once a month for conjugal visits.”
If she doesn’t like that, then I’d just divorce the little trollop, sue for custody of the kids, and ask Mom to come out from Dryden to help with the child-care, and find somebody better.
But then, I’m not MGB. If I were, I’d be smarter than to marry some whiny little bimbette who’s just out for a meal ticket–and I’d certainly have more balls than to abscond to Mexico like some armored-car robber and have my agent do all the talking for me. That was even more spineless than letting the wife drag him around by his junk, and it makes me want to buy a McFarlane figure of the guy just so I can take it out to the range and use it for target practice.
If I were Kevin Lowe, I’d trade MGB to Minnesota for a bag of pucks and a used jockstrap (i.e. Filip Kuba and Andrei Zyuzin) and then use the freed-up cap room to sign somebody who actually WANTS to play in Edmonton. Sure, Minnesota has shopping–but it’s also balls cold in the wintertime, smells like lutefisk, and is full of Norwegians that say “Ya sure, you betcha!” (and I should know about that, cos I’ve lived there.)
Let’s hear Lauren whine about THAT one. She’ll wish she’d never left Edmonchuk after a nice Minnesota winter (and a trip or two down Hennepin Avenue after dark).
So I got the following comment on me previous post:
I am all for honoring the Whale part of the team’s history…something I wish the Canes would do more [of]…
There’s actually a two-word answer to this:
They can’t honor the team’s history very much, because of Pete Karmanos and that wonderful temper of his. The guy was in such a hurry to flee Hartford that he signed an exit agreement that not only dinged him to the tune of a few bills, but also gave up all rights to everything to do with the Whalers–the logo, the uniform designs, the 1986 Adams Division banner, and pretty much everything else (except, I think for “Brass Bonanza”). Everything Whalers that’s been shown by the team has been stuff that’s owned by the NHL–old video clips, file photos, and so on.
Does Uncle Pete regret it? I think so. He’s commented that he liked the old Whalers color scheme (and, frankly, so did I–green is one of my favourite colours), and hinted that he didn’t like having to give it all up–of course, my question is “If you didn’t like giving it up, then why did you?”
In a nutshell, there’s no going home again for this team–which makes me sad, because if there’s one thing I hate it’s a needlessly burned bridge.
After many trials and travails, I finally got my CAMEDIA camera to cough up the pictures that I took at Tuesday’s celebration in the RBC Parking Lot.
It was balls hot that day, by the way.
So I get this call from my pal Brian, who says “Get some clothes on, you’re going to the party.” (I’d just gotten out of a post-work shower)
I said “What?” Because a mild hangover plus still being in shock from Monday night = hazy AQ
Brian replied, “I’ll be there in 10 minutes” and hung up. So I went and got dry clothes on (because not only was it balls hot outside, it was bloody humid, too) and found this waiting for me in the bedroom:
And when little Merlin glares at you, you know you’re in trouble. So I had to feed the Chancellors before I hied off to the RBC.
On the way, Brian and I listened to XM in the car, and got a real treat:
Aaron Ward is always a great interview–very articulate, very smart. He’s got a hell of a future in broadcasting whenever he decides to retire. He sounded really hoarse that day, though, because of all the hootin’ and hollerin’ from the other night.
Got to the RBC, and the place was already crazy. Some folks have tried to make an issue of there being “only” 30,000 people showing up for the Hurricanes’ victory party–but it was covered live on WRAL-TV and other local news outlets. If nobody cared about the Hurricanes here, don’t you think it’d have been ignored by everyone (including Tom “Douchebag” Sorenson of the Charlotte Observer)? I sure do. But what do I know, I’ve only lived here for years and know how things work here better than somebody north of the 49th Parallel (or, for that matter, the Virginia state line).
Most of my pictures of the players came out rather craptacular because my camera is an old Olympus D-360L (and because I had a metric assload of people in front of me that got hands and stuff in front of the viewfinder), so I decided to take random shots and comment on those.
I had to take this picture on the sly, because these people did NOT want to be photographed at all. It was so funny–they’ve got little airline bottles of Jim Beam (which is what Laughing Boy on the right is untwisting with his teeth), and they’re putting the contents in cups of Coke and trying to do it on the sly so that nobody will see them and either 1) say something or 2) take their Beam away.
Because, you know, I’m all about some Beam and Coke with a side of sarcasm.
And then we have these two chaps, who just amused the piss out of me.
They were standing on a Coleman cooler so they could see over the rest of the crowd, and every time a player would go by they’d holler at him like they’d known him for years–which greatly amused the players (but annoyed a few of the people around them). I wish I’d gotten a picture of the two of them hugging each other atop their perch (because they weren’t feeling very stable for a moment or two), but at that point I was feeling the onset of heatsickness and had to retire to the Rex Healthcare tent.
Here’s a fan kickin’ it old-school. There were a surprising number of people wandering around wearing Whalers gear, which made me happy.
Here’s a shot of the people that were lined up all along the “media access” area near the stage, where the parade vehicles lined up and the players went meandering over to the stage. Bret Hedican had the most fun with the crowd in this area, trotting along and high-fiving everybody that had their hands out. He was one happy-happy elf, I tellyer.
This shot is from earlier in the day. On the left we have Brian, wearing a shirt that I and another friend printed up four years ago for the Great Run of 2002 (the graphic was done up for us by a Canadiens fan, btw). On the right is another guy wearing one of the new Champs t-shirts, with the roster on the back.
The speech that the Warchief gave was great–very much from the heart, and I don’t think anyone around me had dry eyes when he was done. I honestly don’t know that I’ve ever been prouder of this team than I am right now.
The Draft was kinda meh, as far as the ‘Canes were concerned–word’s come out that Ray Shero had told JimR that any deal involving Jack Johnson for the number 2 pick would have to have Andrew Ladd thrown in with it.
Pardon me while I fall down laughing at that.
I wasn’t expecting a lot to come out of this season’s Draft, from the Hurricanes’ end–everything outside the Top 10 was more of a crapshoot than in most Draft years, so there you go.
So, about that glossary that was suggested to me by a couple folks: If I tried to explain every little reference I make, it would possibly be the longest post in the history of blogs. I reference a lot of movies, TV shows, and so on. I can try to make it simple, but that insults your intelligence–and I’d like to think that hockey fans are smart people.
But I’ll try to think of something to at least explain the nicknames for some players (like “Joe, Lord of Evil”)–which will probably be a collection of nutbar stories from my season ticket holder days.
This was posted on teh LGC by MeanGene (who, for the folks outside the Caniac Nation, is the big black dude on the Storm Squad), and is posted here with his permission:
I talked to [Georges Laraque] during the Finals after just about every game. Mainly by email, but also in person. Anyway I thought it would be good to get some pictures of a black hockey player becasue I am hoping to start an inner-city street hockey clinic/league hopefully this summer or fall. I am thinking in the downtown housing projects, or in Durham at possibly the YMCA, which is probably my best bet. laraque gave me 10 autographed 8×10 pictures and personalized one to me.
After game 5, he told me that they would beat us in 7, and I told the Canes would win. He jokingly asked me if I wanted to place a bet on the rest of the series. I said sure, if the Oilers win, I will paint Oilers are #1 on the back of my car with glass paint and drive around with it on. If the Canes won, he could help me start up my league. He said either way, he would love to help me out.
After game 7, I went and talked to him and he told me to jsut contact him when I was ready. At the time, he was talking to Cuba, so I should have hit him up too!!
I think with the Stanley Cup victory and the enthusiasm for hockey, it should go pretty well.
Just wanted to share a good guy NHL story!
Big Georges (or, as they refer to him at The Battle of Alberta, LeGG) has always been one of my favorite players because of stuff like this.
Is that cool or what?
I go to work, and everything goes about 10 different kinds of crazy.
As has been broken by half the freaking blogsphere (and TSN), Mike Keenan has taken total leave of what’s left of his senses and traded FLORIDA PANTHERS FRANCHISE GOALIE Roberto Luongo to the Vancouver Canucks for….
Todd Bertuzzi, Alex Auld, and
a used jockstrap cleverly masquerading as a defenseman Bryan Allen.
(Apologies to CanucksNation by way of Alanah from VCOE, who use a boot to the head to remind me that I had Bryan Allen confused with Nolan Baumgartner. Mea Culpa.)
The Warchief has agreed to be Captain For Life (and you have no idea how happy that makes me).
My Golden Bitch has asked for a trade out of Edmonton for “personal reasons”.
UKRAINE, of all countries, has advanced to the Round of 16 in the World Cup.
Rumple Minze. Mmmmm, Rumple Minze.
…please hush about Lavi not getting the Jack Adams.
And all you other Caniacs pissin’ and bitchin’ that Lavi didn’t get the Jack Adams need to hush too.
It’s a jinx, that trophy is, and I’d much rather our coach NOT get it–besides, he’s got something far nicer (even if Wally Tatomir was klutzy and dropped it–bad Wally, no cookie). I didn’t even want Chairman Mo to get it in 2002–actually, yes I kinda did. But now that he’s the General Secretary of the Toronto Maple Leafs, I hope he doesn’t get it so that he’ll be with them for a long, long time.
I got a kick out of the part of Olie Kolzig’s speech where he said “As much as it pains me, I’d like to congratulate the Carolina Hurricanes on winning the Stanley Cup.” I’ve always liked Olie. And Alex Ovechkin? Dudeman needs a new haircut, badly. That bowlcut abortion he’s got now makes him look like he’s a cancer patient wearing a bad wig. His Calder acceptance speech was a hoot, too.
I loved seeing Cam Ward dis one of the memorabilia sellers from “out back” at the RBC on live TV–that was great stuff. I saw that clown in the crowd by the red carpet and was like “Oh balls, there’s a seller.” Then Cam went walking down signing stuff for fans, and he saw that guy and was like “Yeah, I’m skipping you.” gg Cam.
Vancouver folk, I wish I could be there with y’all for the Draft this weekend–but getting promoted at work, my boss’s impending European vacation, and being short-staffed because of a co-worker’s paternity leave have pretty much terminated all chances of me getting MY vacation time this year. :/
The Toronto Star has a vurra interesting article about the last pick in the Draft and what’s become of those guys. I can just see JFJ walking up to Chairman Mo on draft day in 1985 and saying “In 21 years, kid, you’re going to work for me.”
Hey, coulda happened.
Oh yeah, so forwards and goalies and stuff.
Chris has his commentary up on the goalies and the forwards, so I’ll send you over there after a few comments.
Tinu might move on, or he might be amenable to staying here for another year as part of a 1a/1b system–I think that if he gets schmoozed right by JasonK and JimR, it’ll pry be the latter.
Daniel Manzato hasn’t done so much since we’ve drafted him, so I see him being shuffled off somewhere as a throw-in for a Draft Day trade.
I have a hunch that Cullen will be back representing the 2-1-8 next season. Dougie is an enigma–he hasn’t totally ruled out a return to the ‘Canes, and he hasn’t totally ruled out a return to the Booze. And he hasn’t totally ruled out a trip to some other team. Wherever he goes, I just hope it’s to a team that I can actually like (as opposed to someplace like, say, Detroit, Columbus, Florida, or Washington).
Why do so many people have Joe, Lord of Evil pencilled in as trade-bait? I don’t see it happening for some reason. I think he’ll be on the roster for at least the first month or so of next season.
Recchi’s pry outta here, so we can re-sign the core forwards like Staal, Cole, KAdams, and Ladd.
CAdams will likely be sent to Albany as their hetman, so that he can teach the youngins the ways of the tribe. Vince Most Handsome is pry going to go down there with him, as will Killer Kowalski and the rest of the kids that were practice players with the team during The Great Run.
I think that little Ray Whitney might wind up getting traded, if the ‘Canes need to bring in somebody to replace a departing player.
Aaaaand that’s about all I got–well except for a little gem from this morning’s N&O, which I will address later tonight after I am home from work and properly jacked on Flexeril.
They forgot Char-Grill (BEST FRIES IN THE WORLD) and iHop.
God I love the Onion.
Before I wrestle with my digital camera to get the pictures from yesterday’s parade and party (I missed today’s celebration because I got called in to work), it’s time to take a look at who goes and who stays for next season.
Chris makes some good points with regard to our defense, but I’ll chime in.
I think that My Evil Twin is pry going to retire–at most he’ll stick around for one more season and then call it a game. He’s got a Cup, he can head off into the sunset.
I’ll be damn surprised if Wes sticks around–he’s finally got a Cup, he’ll probably want to go out on a high note.
Unlike Chris, I think The Not-Quite-As-Serene Master might stay if the ‘Canes either 1) made him a good enough offer or 2) traded a couple draft picks to the Leafs for his brother.
I do think the rumblings about Nicky heading back to Sweden are true–he’s had fun here, he’s made some coin, and he’s got a Cup, so now he’ll want to pack up the clan and head on home. Say hey to Tommy for me when you get home, Nicky.
Commodore will stay. I think they might let Hutch walk. Tverdovsky is probably gonzo if the ‘Canes can find a trading partner to take him, otherwise Lavi will do his best to work with him. If they let Babs go, I will injure somebody. That boy is fearless and has one hell of a slapshot. He’s Andy Delmore, with hits and defense (and better luck with the chicks).
And then we have Jack Johnson–I have a sneaking suspicion that he’s hoping he’ll be traded to Pittsburgh so that he can be reunited with his boyfriend Sid Crosby. I think the ‘Canes should stick with this kid for as long as possible during his College years. If he doesn’t want to sign with us after that, then trade him.
I’ll do up the forwards tomorrow morning.
(and to my Heathen and Pagan readers: Happy Midsummer.)
I was at work this morning, still kind of in a state of numbed shock. I was in the middle of counting up the previous day’s safe drops when I turned and asked my boss “Did the Hurricanes really win?”
She nodded and said “Yeah, they won the Stanley Cup.”
Did I hear you say that this is victory?
It was like a fireball going off, burning away the surreal fog that almost had me convinced that I was dreaming. I started crying, and then I started laughing. You guys have no idea how much that Princess Bride quote really does apply to me, seriously. It was like all these stray bits and pieces just kind of fell into place, the stars aligned, and for the first time I can honestly say that I genuinely feel some kind of peace.
If the ‘Canes had lost, I would have cried for a while and then just said “Figures” and just gone on with the war because I’m just that used to fighting the “hopeless battle”.
But this…this is strange territory for me.
I’ve been fighting for this team for so long, defending their right to exist and defending the fanbase (and taking the Hammer to a few of the faithful that get outta line), that now that the ‘Canes have won and effectively cemented their niche in the Triangle I find myself wondering what my purpose in life is.
I’ve been living on the edge so long
Where the winds of limbo roar
And I’m young enough to look at
And far too old to see
All the scars are on the inside
I’m not sure if there’s anything left of me
And then it hits me:
All these years, I’ve been soaking up the tales from the team’s history like a sponge. I’ve been learning about the history of the Hurricanes from their days in the WHA to 1997 to now, and I’ve been posting about much of it here.
Somebody’s gotta remember where this team came from. Somebody’s gotta remind people of where we’ve been so that they can appreciate where the Hurricanes are now and where they’re headed.
Might as well be me.
I know I’m not making a lot of sense–blame the mead. I’m sitting here watching the game on the DVR and crying for joy because in some strange way it’s all just sort of coming together finally.
I raise my glass to the Oilers fans. Your team didn’t give up, and they put fear into my heart. They’re tenacious, MacT’s a pretty good coach, and I think the Oilers will do well next season.
I have been in the revenge business so long. Now that it’s over, I don’t know what to do with the rest of my life.
(quote courtesy The Princess Bride)
I never, never in a million years, thought I would ever see this day. Ever. I’m sitting here in front of my computer holding a one-person sumbel with that bottle of cherry mead, and just kind of soaking it all in. I suspect that at about 2:00 AM, I’ll be drunk-dialing my boss and hollering “WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” into the phone while she says “AQ, I’ll be there at 7:30 to pick you up. Get your ass to bed.”
The Pregnant Motie Warrior called during the presentation to make sure that I was watching it–and of course I was.
Never thought I’d see this. I envy Dave and Chris, cos they got to go to the game.
THE POWER OF MALIK COMPELS YOU! THE POWER OF MALIK COMPELS YOU!
*ahem* Sorry–got caught up in a Frankie Kaberle moment.
The Chancellors are sitting here looking at me like I’ve lost what little is left of my mind. My husband is already annoyed with me for being durnk (FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MANY MANY YEARS) on a work night.
Last cig was at 3:00 Monday morning. So glad I don’t have to buy another pack ever. My doc will be happy too.
Did the ‘Canes really win the Cup? I’m not dreaming, am I? This isn’t a mead-fueled drunken delusion, is it?
Did we really win the Cup?
All we have left now is faith, fellow Caniacs. Faith in our team, faith in ourselves, faith that the Hurricanes will win.
I believe in them. Wholeheartedly, totally. This isn’t a time to be wishy-washy. This is a time for will–perfect, genuine, complete, crystalline, pure. We must be resolute in our determination, unshakable in our faith. We must rise up, fellow Caniacs, and with one voice and one heart and one soul will our team to victory.
Forget the Oilers trolls that have decided to come out from under their rocks and start bombarding the boards with crap because their team has tied the series. Forget about NBC’s constant fellation of the Oilers and their bashing of the Hurricanes. Forget about MacT and Coingate and Fernando Pisani leaving his feet with every check he tried to lay on Erik Cole the other night. Forget about those things, for they do not matter.
The only things that matter now are the 20 guys wearing the Sightless Eye that will take to the ice tonight for the fight of their playoff lives. Focus on them, cheer for them, and most importantly love them–that love, that focus, and that energy will be returned a thousandfold.
The lots at the RBC open at 3:00, the puck drops at 8:00.
I’m still upset about last night–that was just…it was like the aliens that lived in Richard Trottier’s helmet in 99-00 came and brought back the 2002-2003 Hurricanes. I don’t even want to watch the DVR, not even to see Erik Cole back on the ice, though I might go back and watch it tomorrow if I’m 1) intoxicated enough and/or 2) the game has a happier ending (for me).
Da Chief has his Punch in the Face. Last night was my Humiliating Kick in the Crotch. Just…ugh. It felt worse than 2002…and those of you who knew me back then know that that’s saying a lot right there. If the ‘Canes lose tomorrow–and especially if they lose in such embarrassing fashion as they lost last night–I am liable to light myself on fire and fling myself off the top of the RBC Center, because it’ll be like total confirmation that the Universe just flat hates my guts. Perhaps I’ll feel better in the morning. Perhaps I’m just too wrapped up in all of this. Who knows?
I still believe.
I got nothin’.
The ‘Canes got nothin’ too, apparently.
I tell you what, people–ONLY THIS TEAM COULD CHOKE A THREE GAMES TO ONE LEAD IN THE CUP GODDAMN FINALS. Perhaps I should have saved my big vent of anger for after Game 5. Perhaps I should have gotten my hair cut on 6 June. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
I’m just crushed, now. It is said that you always hurt the ones you love. Well, the ones I love always hurt me. Always, without fail. Go ahead and laugh, people–Gods know I’m certainly used to it by now.
If the ‘Canes manage to pull it off in Game 7, I’m liable to just drink myself to death because I won’t know what the hell else to do with myself.
And I’ll be watching on Monday night, because if the ship is going to go down then goddammit I’m going to go down with it.
CANES TO THE BLOODY BITTER END, BABY!
All gassed up and ready to go.