The Winter Classic is all about endurance and grit and surviving the insanity of a 14 degree blizzard through three periods, overtime and a shootout. It’s about paying five dollars for a tiny hot dog with a bun so dessicated it could be used as a puck. It’s about waiting in line for a poorly ventilated bathroom where the floor is covered in liquid you hope is melted snow but you know is one hundred percent urine.
But that doesn’t fit into the media’s highly romanticized version of what is essentially an incredibly expensive (and as it turned out) dangerous game to attend. The outdoor guys calling the game like Doc will talk about how they don’t have a kerosene heater, but they at least they have a heated bench and people to bring them hot cocoa and a golf cart to take them off the field to a nice safe warm bathroom. They aren’t thrown to the wolves. Heck the players even get heated benches.
The only thing the media, players, and fans have in common is that they have to go through several layers in order to pee. I don’t want to give the impression that we had a horrendous experience, quite the contrary it was a thrilling atmosphere ruined by incredibly poor planning. Perhaps I’m being too harsh. It’s not as if they had two years to work out the details …. oh…. right…
Certainly, the weather has its own agenda and won’t be bullied into submission. While the continuous snow made for a wondrous backdrop, it also made for dicey driving. On our way, Long Suffering Partner (or LSP) and I saw six vehicles that had spun into a ditch. Or each other. Once safely there and on our way to the stadium, we passed several tailgating groups some of whom seemed to be approaching Rob Ford levels of drunkeness (BAM! Topical AND Canadian!) We skipped the Fan Zone set up outside the Bridgestone Winter Classic. We had pretty much the same experience at Comerica Park except for the free Advil they were handing out (popular with the party crowd).
Even inside the stadium’s concourse, it was cold enough that I broke down and purchased a Wings toque and scarf (a mere $65!) from one of the hundred outside merchandise tents since the heated store had a ten foot line. Most likely because it was the only warm place available. Why weren’t their warming zones other than the ones outside the stadium? Did I miss those? Could they find no one to sponsor one? Was I supposed to buy cheesy fries and warm my hands over them?
Granted, we never made it all the way around the stadium but we tried to huddle inside the concourse area for warmth as much as possible. Besides the aforementioned five dollar hot dog, LSP and I got hot chocolate that was already tepid by the time it got to us. Although it came in a lovely commemorative cup for only ten dollars.
For an extra six dollars, you could get a shot of Baileys in it. Baileys? Hot chocolate is already sweet. The perfect accompaniment to hot chocolate is Peppermint Schnapps. Everyone knows this. I’m sorry if you believe differently, you are wrong. Maybe if Baileys had sponsored a warming zone, I might have purchased some. But with the driving conditions unlikely to improve, no way was I drinking alcohol. I didn’t want to be a cautionary tale. About drinking and driving that is.
The crowd was amped up even before warmups with the alternating “Let’s Go Red Wings!” “Go, Leafs, Go” chants. Occasionally you could hear “No, Leafs blow!” which was quite amusing to us. There was plenty of good-natured ribbing between fans of these two long time rival teams. Both mighty franchises have struggled lately so there’s been plenty of fodder. I saw a family of five all decked out in Leafs gear save for a (middle?) daughter in Wings merch. I asked them if they really knew the girl or if she was just following them. They all laughed and the father mock whispered “She’s adopted.”
The view from our seats was a beautiful snow covered panorama. That is after we dusted the two feet of snow of them. Special seat cushions were on each seat, but they also had snow on them and were obviously very cold as well. Better than the metal however. Inside the pocket of each cushion were a packet of trading cards. Both our packs had a Tyler Bozak card. How I hate you, prophetic fate.
As entertainment (?) after warmups the NHL provided Mayer Hawthorne. I wasn’t certain if they were playing live or just faking it to a track. I can’t imagine that a cymbal would sound as rich in that brittle snowy environment, but in that stadium I mostly heard the rhythm section which was probably for the best.
Speaking of poor musical choices, the Tenors (are they trademarked?) sang the Canadian anthem. I say “sang” but it was more like intoned by monks. It was a glacial tempo more befitting a state funeral than a celebration of hockey. The crowd wisely ignored them and chose their own tempo. (Canadian Comments behind us: “Whoa. This is slow, eh?” “Are they singing that part in French?”)
Even the over the untrained mob, I could hear the lack of proper training of the Tenors. The lead in particular was terribly flat. You would imagine that a group on a worldwide arena tour would be used to singing in larger space acoustics. But here’s the dirty little secret: if you have a group of tenors, someone’s gotta be the baritone. And we all know what that means. (Note to my mother: I really have no idea what that means).
The Zac Brown fared better as they opted not to sing the American anthem like a dirge. Bonus points for nailing the interval of “what so PROUD-ly we hailed” since if that gets off, it’s pretty much downhill from there.
Anthem Recap: The Tenors – well groomed (and marketed) but fairly poor musicianship. Zac Brown Band – look ready for a bar fight (and they would win) but hold a tune and actually respectful to the spirit of the anthem. Also, the first time I have ever seen fireworks in a snowstorm. And I really didn’t see them that well.
Oh right. The Game itself. Certainly, the first period was a slogfest as players watched the puck get trapped in a snow bank while they skated forward. There were several offsides (where we were subjected to yet more ads) until the teams decided to dump and chase into the zone or in the Wings’ case, just give it to Pavel Datsyuk to stick handle into the zone.
The ice needed to be shoveled constantly otherwise you couldn’t even see the blue line. The crew was quite proficient at this, but at the end of the rink where they dumped the snow there were two people constantly shoveling snow out of the way to make way for the snow off the ice. Why a snowblower wasn’t used is beyond me. Maybe there’s some snow shoveler’s union at the University of Michigan – if so, I apologize.
I have now come to the darkest part of our adventure: the intermission. Our plan was to meet up with actual operatic tenor @DylanHayden at the break. In retrospect, this was a enormous mistake as everyone else had the same idea. Once the horn sounded, every pathway was blocked with people seeking bathrooms, concession stands, or just a warmer spot. In the concourse, the crowd was just an unmovable mass all trying to head in completely different directions pushing and shoving from all sides.
More insanity after the jump.
Some wags started mooing like cattle, but that’s not an apt metaphor for the situation. Cattle have a clear chute to the abattoir and it can’t be a stampede if there’s no movement whatsoever. It was amusing to hear comments like “This is just like the standings. We never move!” (applicable for both teams) but disheartening to hear “I have a small child here!!! Please stop pushing!!!” while you are trapped in a mass of humanity. Eventually after ten minutes of trying to get through the crowd Tetris style, we gave up and managed to sidle over to a gate facing the street on the concourse where it was only partially dense.
And there I saw it. I saw large, pasty buttocks. Then I realized they were attached to a squatting man pooping into a clear plastic bag. Some things cannot be unseen people. True, he was trying to hide behind a garbage can, but it was too late. The thin veneer of society had already been shattered.
Guys started peeing through the gate on the concourse down to the street level. And not attractive guys either. The smoking ban was completely ignored. Someone was even smoking a joint. He was popular. When a stadium worker finally walked by, he merely said “There’s no smoking. You have to put that out” in a school-marmish scold. He obviously knew he was outnumbered and didn’t want trouble.
Why was this allowed to turn into anarchy? Why isn’t there an NHL Department of FAN Safety? (I’m looking at you, Patrick Burke. Maybe you can wear the Curtis E. Bear outfit). Once the crowds finally abated enough to venture back, we walked along a path of lone gloves, scarves, hats, blankets, even seat cushions all trampled and covered in filthy slush – a scene of forlorn desolation like the aftermath of a violent diaspora. The only mitigating factor was that I didn’t have to hear Mayer Hawthorn perform again.
We missed around ten minutes of the second period (and we will never speak of it again – I saw a man poop in a plastic bag, people) but we made it back in time to see the first goal of the game. I was glad it was Alfredsson, he’s been a favorite of mine for a while even when he was with the Senators. Or maybe because he was with the Senators.
Anyway, suddenly the contest grew more exciting as players remembered there were two desperately needed points on the line. The pace picked once everyone became accustomed to the conditions and started using them to their advantage.
I could go through the game but frankly, as the snow fell harder it was impossible to see it clearly. If you didn’t move every ten minutes you looked like Jack Nicholson at the end of The Shining. (Full disclosure: Every Puckbuddys writer is required to make at least one Kubrick reference each year. Please note I have filled my quota early.)
You watched the game anyway, otherwise you wouldn’t be reading this. We don’t need to rehash the Bozak business or the Zetterberg breakaway stopped by the buzzer in overtime so they could change sides. Whatever. Everyone knows he would’ve scored. Even the guy wearing a Flyers jersey at the airport the next day. Everyone knows. So, there’s that. If you want to see the game, they will play it on the NHL Network every now and then, presenting it with a wistful air.
But that’s how I will choose to remember it. I won’t want to remember the monstrous traffic snarl caused by the lack of planning by the city of Ann Arbor. Well, they had a plan. It was to treat it like any other home football game they hold. Well, guess what? It wasn’t like ANY other game at that stadium.
A city official went so far as to blame the NHL for not educating the fans on how to exit the stadium and the town. That’s what the police are supposed to do. Why don’t you just shake your fist at the sky and blame the snow for not listening to you either, you pathetic old coot. I’m sorry. He deserves worse language than that, but my mother reads this.
What I am going to remember is the incredible adventure that my Long Suffering Partner and I had where we saw our team earn a point. But we also saw some guys dressed as the Hanson brothers from Slapshot.
We danced and sang along with a hundred thousand some people to the like of the Beastie Boys and Franz Ferdinand. (Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing” will be a long cherished memory) I watched people drink nine dollar beer slushies with ice in their beards. I was with a mass of humanity enduring the coldest Winter Classic ever. We even saw a guy go shirtless before the shootout to whip the crowd into a frenzy. Yes, he was a Leafs fan, but he was still kind of cute.
]]>Eric Pinder is an actor/writer/director/sometime hoofer originally from Detroit suburbs. He does not know Eminem, please stop asking. His tweet about a man pooping in a bag quickly went viral and earned him twenty new followers. He was promptly unfollowed by half of those people when they read the rest of his tweets. Follow him @operahockeyguy.
As part of our Whirlwind Winter Classic Vacation, we had to check out the Coke Zero Fan Zone at the Sirius/XM Hockeytown Winter Festival on Saturday. (Pretty much everything in that last sentence is trademarked except the word ‘Saturday’).
It turned out to be the perfect day to visit as it was a balmy 47 degrees. In fact, it was so unseasonably warm that they had to delay the start of the Great Lakes Invitational three and a half hours so the sun would be lower and the ice would have a chance to firm up.
The Coke Zero Fan Zone was free to folks with tickets to each day’s events, but you could get in for a five dollar fee. I would venture that is was worth four dollars. Certainly the atmosphere was festive, what with plenty of stands selling State Fair type cuisine (Elephant Ears!) and firepits set up for roasting marshmallows (marshmallows not included in ticket price). Wings and Leafs fans mingled freely without incident. Even the guy decked out in Ohio State gear remained unmolested.
Our first step was to visit one of the many merchandise locations to purchase appropriate headgear for Dwayne (AKA Long Suffering Partner or LSP) since as Floridians we don’t normally have a need for a toques. And it was only $30! The Leafs locker room trailer provided a terribly unthrilling up close look at various player’s jerseys whereas the Wings locker setup was much better. (Full disclosure: it was the same experience, but my pro-Wings bias wins out here)
There were plenty of events for kids like a pick up street hockey rink, synthetic ice surface open skate, and a Red Wings goalie mask bounce house. (All requiring signed waivers to participate) Also, “Snowzilla” with the official explanation “It’s like sliding down a snow-covered hill and is the only one of its kind in the U.S.” Since it was a five dollar upcharge, and I had plenty of actual snow-covered hills in the area from which to choose, I opted out of this experience.
The NHL Network tent let you make a video about “Your Goal In 2014”. LSP and I decided our goal was to not freeze our asses off at the game. Said video has a chance of appearing on the NHL Network. My guess is it’s a snowball’s chance in hell. We didn’t see any point to visiting the Verizon tent as I have seen enough of their ads touting NHL GameCenter on one of their many tablet devices.
In fact, my big complaint is that the Fan Zone was really one enormous ad where you had to fill out forms with email, physical address, and phone number to get anything. Certainly that was the purpose of the Bridgestone® tent – a huge tire display with wintry pine trees and TVs blaring the joys of treads while you waited in line to take a photo in Winter Classic jerseys. Note in this photo, I am shooting left handed. I would be a right hand shot (if I had the slightest idea what I was doing), but for photo-op purposes, I switched for better staging.
We could’ve tried the Slapshot Challenge but someone had already hit an 88 mph shot and seriously, if I had attempted it, I most likely would’ve hit myself with the stick somehow. And I would have filled out a waiver meaning I couldn’t sue.
Even the Molson CANADIAN HOCKEY HOUSE with its table top hockey games and local bands (of dubious quality) was really a glorified beer haus.
Although, they did have one of three Alumni Autograph locations which at the time was occupied by Kris Draper – my favorite of the famous Grind Line. Dino Ciccarelli was in the Red Wings Experience tent, but has not aged as well as one might have hoped. Drapes, being a ginger, has fared far better. Inside the Red Wings Experience (which sounds like a cover band to me) was a stage where they were holding a trivia contest. In our fifteen minutes in the tent, not one of the three contestants answered a question correctly thus mocking the idea that it was a Fan Zone.
But for me, the crowning jewel of the Festival was the Hockey Hall Of Fame (also trademarked) tent displaying memorabilia (a Patrick Roy Canadiens jersey! BOO! Red Wing pucks from their Stanley Cup victory over the Penguins! YAY!) and various trophies like the Conn Smythe, Ted Lindsay, and Rocket Richard.
The Stanley Cup wasn’t in attendance. It wouldn’t appear until Monday, but that’s okay as it was an extra five dollar charge to get a photo with it and LSP and I already have a picture with the Cup we took for free at a Lightning game. As a matter of fact, there’s also a photo of Other Gay Hockey Friend and I beveling next to the Cup like Price Is Right showgirls. And really, isn’t that what photo ops are all about? (Oh, and have I mentioned my Dad drank from the Stanley Cup?)
Now while we would love to watch one of the Alumni Showdowns, we are from Florida and are not about to stand outside in 18 degree weather two days in a row. We would rather save hypothermia for the Winter Classic. And anyway, on Tuesday, I’m dragging LSP through the Henry Ford Museum where we will ogle the chair in which Lincoln was sitting in Ford’s Theatre (no relation) when John Wilkes Booth so rudely interrupted the performance of “Our American Cousin©”. Because we are cultural gays. Hopefully, I’ll be able to tweet during the game without frostbite attacking first. Check back later for exclusive coverage only available on this site!
]]>Eric Pinder (@operahockeyguy on Twitter) is a highly talented and employable actor/director/writer/hyphenate who is currently updating his resume. In his spare time, he tweets about opera, hockey and the plantar warts on the balls of his feet. He is working on a hockey opera, but isn’t sure which team should win.
People who know me in the real world know that I don’t always adjust to change well. Most people need adjustment time, some just seem to cope with aplomb. I am firmly in the “adjustment” camp. However, I usually come around and embrace or, at least reluctantly, accept the change. Hockey change, however, usually takes a different bent.
For those uninitiated, I am both a Canucks and Leafs fan. The Leafs are a bastion of change of late, some of which I passionately dissented to (Nonis being a thing). Some of which I still dislike and will dislike in perpetuity (David Clarkson). Some change I disliked but have come to love (Bernier). Overall, I think I have made a peace with this year’s assemblage. Until something happens that causes me to become outraged/elated and it all collapses in on itself. But for now, the détente remains.
As goes for the Canucks as well. I am generally more positive about personnel matters (save Mike Gillis) and enjoy some of the fresh faces. I still vehemently dislike some players (take a guess!) and think some opportunities were missed, but I am generally pleased.
So why am I writing a seemingly rambly bit of drivel about change? Because something about the Canucks changed this season. Something I had come to love and depend on. Something that felt different, felt special about the organization. It was not a player transaction or line move, it was the @canucksgame Twitter account. Yes, I know this is coming well into the season, but I cannot remain silent any longer. I am clearly not adjusting well.
Canucks fans on Twitter know all about @canucksgame, the account that was run by the incredibly funny and likeable Derek Jory. It provided energetic, poignant and often hilarious insight into the game as it happened. Days I was unable to watch the game I would turn to Twitter and rely on these precious gems to keep me informed and entertained. It was unlike any other team’s approach I had seen.
I compared it to the Leafs Twitter account many times. The Leafs Twitter account, which tweets game updates from the main @MapleLeafs account, is dull. Not only is it dull, during the game it will simply retweet fan tweets and add one or two words to it. Dull. Unoriginal. Uninformative. I was and am still disappointed by this lack of effort from such a huge organization to have a Twitter presence during games.
Hell, read the #TMLtalk hashtag during any game and see the gems that roll in. I cannot understand why there is such a void. MLSE is not a small entity, it is not cash strapped, it can certainly afford to have someone to be interesting on Twitter. Or, as evidence shows, not.
But I digress. The point is that @canucksgame provided the antithesis of that. It was fun. From puns on players’ names when they scored, to the SCORES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! with varying numbers of exclamation points that graced every Canucks goal, to the banter with fans…it was an engaging activity. I felt like I was watching the game with a friend, as much as watching a Twitter feed can elicit such a feeling. That feeling is now gone, sadly.
As the season started, @canucksgame tweeted for the last time. In its stead, all game coverage would be moved to the @VanCanucks account. Initially I was unafraid, feeling that DJ would simply shift his brand of play-by-play to a different handle. But my stomach began to sink as games went on.
While not listless like @MapleLeafs game tweets were, they were sanitized versions of his trademark fun. They felt held back, restrained. It was, as someone put on Twitter, @canucksgame lite.
This switch was made by the Canucks organization to streamline tweets into one account. That reasoning is sound; most other NHL teams have one account all tweets go out of. But such a drastic switch in volume and passion in the game play-by-play tweets was an unfortunate result. I doubt DJ had a say in this and, I can assume, they are supposed to appear more befitting of the big @VanCanucks handle. I get it.
But the Canucks have unknowingly (or not) lost one aspect that made them so wonderfully different from other teams. That passion of DJ’s and @canucksgame has never been matched and I miss it dearly. Other Canucks fans miss it dearly. I imagine even DJ himself misses the fun he got to have with it (I have no actual idea of this, so I will admit this being speculative). So while the tweets from @VanCanucks may be informative, they are lacking the unbridled joy that came before.
And that is a perfect phrase, ‘unbridled joy’. They were tweets that more or less encapsulated all of my feelings on a Canucks goal or penalty or great Luongo save. Anyone who has watched a game with me live or on TV knows I do not hold back the feels, and neither did DJ. LUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU was a common utterance, so were Bieksellent and, my personal favourite, dubbing Chris Higgins as “Kiss Huggins”. Whether that last one was original or not is immaterial, since I still remember and love it. Hell, I named my Fantasy Hockey team this year “Kiss Huggins”.
This whole piece could be off the mark, though. If this is a decision made by DJ, I could likely accept the change better. It would be a choice made by a great social media dude to change his tack. While I might not like it, I would respect his decision and could begin to make my peace. But I suspect it, in my heart of hearts, that it was not his doing, which is why I have so much invested in this; I feel DJ deserves better.
So I know things change. I know a big organization like the Canucks can streamline and adjust to its needs. And I know I can have a hard time adjusting. But this one change just really, really sucks. I really miss the DJ of @canucksgame. I miss the fun. I miss the whimsy. I miss the 140 character nuggets of unicorn-like joy. I know the tweets from @VanCanucks are trying. I know DJ is making the best effort he can, as he has told me himself. I still adore the guy and I still know that @canucksgame DJ is alive and well.
That Jory of seasons past made watching the game a far more immersive experience. As soon as a big save, big hit, goal or other event happened, I could rely on there being a great quip from @canucksgame to sum it up. Twitter Jail often held DJ at times, so many tweets flying back and forth. Now there are games where there are a handful of tweets. In total. Not quite the same.
The Canucks had a unique, engaging and awesome thing going with @canucksgame. Who brags about their team’s Twitter account? Well, I did. I held it up as the gold standard. I lambasted other teams’ Twitter accounts for not being up to that level.
But that has changed. The Canucks game tweets risk falling into mediocrity, into the same beige void that the @MapleLeafs account resides unless that DJ of old is allowed to come back. They have yet to sink that far yet, but I can see the sand-coloured writing on that ecru wall.
]]>But that’s what playing Grand Theft Auto V will do for me tonight. And every night until I beat the game. Which will be soon. Because that’s what I do. Don’t judge. Or whatever.
Before I begin, there was a point during the hockey game I looked like this. Remember this face going forward. Anyway, as you’ve all seen by now or at least heard of, the Sabres/Leafs game last night was beyond fucking clown shoes. It was a borefest the first two periods. Mediocre hockey, blah blah blah. There was more discussion paid to beer prices and counting how many jerseys were tucked in…
Ok, brief aside, that new rule is fucking dumb. I mean, come the hell on. Physics is apparently an enemy of the NHL BoG. Well, most reality-based devices are evidently, but this is particularly egregious. And, as has been said and lamented, it won’t be counted as a penalty until it’s the game 7 deciding penalty because Kelly Sutherland decides to uphold the rules one time. Jesus Christ I could go on forever about that, but I have enough to go on about that BS game Sunday…
So yes, back to reality (whoops there goes gravity…). The third starts and I can just tell this is going to boil over into a steaming pile. I said just as much not two minutes before the melee.
And then it happens. Then it goes from hockey game to back alley street fight and convention of dumb fucking fools. First off, IT’S THE GOD DAMN PRESEASON. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. This all really stemmed from when Devane knocked the hell out of another kid, concussed him (it’s a virtual guarantee) and for what? What bloody purpose did it serve other than giving paramedics something to do? Paramedics and the poor officials having to log over 200 minutes of penalties. Note: I’m not a proponent of fighting. I’m not someone to say ban it, but holy god how dumb is it.
So naturally tensions rise and explode into what happened. But sweet lord, when Phil Kessel, leading goal scorer and key part of the team is DOUBLE HAND CHOPPING AT BIG JOHN SCOTT you know you have a problem.
Oh, yeah, and David Clarkson like the MENSA member he is, jumps the god damn boards and gets a 10 game regular season suspension.
Way to go Dave Nonis! That’s truculence for you! Hurray! SEVEN MORE YEARS! SEVEN MORE YEARS! GIVE HIM EVEN MORE MONEY BECAUSE WHY NOT?! COLTON ORR EVERYWHERE!
Another aside: I saw this couple leaving the game and was at a loss for words and figure I’d hate them in real life based on jersey choice.
I get emotions boil over, and I get some hockey players can be dumb (surprise!), but fuck. Just fuck. Just fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.
I’ve actually come up with a list of things less dumb than what Clarkson did, and I share after the jump.
A list of things less dumb than what Clarkson did:
The list could go on but I’m at work and whatever.
The one shining light, which is probably hypocritical but fuck it, was a goalie fight.
There’s just something magical about it. Like a unicorn. But less prancy. Plus Jonathan Bernier is hot. Which makes me sad because he shouldn’t be on the team since Reimer and Scrivens would have been fine, but Nonis is a bit of a tool. So let’s probably not be able to sign Cody Franson and let’s not sign Mason Raymond even though he’s been pretty ok so we can fix a problem that doesn’t exist. WOOO LOGIC. How I’m not a raging alcoholic at this juncture I simply don’t know.
But yes, seeing Ryan “Silver Medal” Miller (with his serial killer smile) attempting to punch Bernier for a good 50 seconds was a treat. It was nowhere near the gravitas of a Ray-Emery-in-his-heyday goalie fight, nor as hilarious as the Brent Johnson/Rick di Pietro fight, but it was still damn entertaining.
Still, this was my face after the frays. McKayla Maroney eat your heart out. Sort of I guess.
Basically it was all dumb. All preseason games where you fight are dumb. And, even moreso, when you have PHIL KESSEL doing the face punching on a team that has Orrs and McLarens…. Which also goes to the point that Orrs and McLarens are as useless as a bag of hair. Actually, a bag of hair could be a gross, but makeshift, pillow. They’re 10,000 spoons when all you need is a knife. And no, that isn’t ironic it’s just fucking sad. Which kind of goes to what my feelings of this season will be: it will be a dumb one. But dumb in one of two extremes…
Extreme 1: Bad Dumb
This is what I feel is most likely. Nonis did nothing to address core issues that exist in the Leafs lineup and instead sign out-of-their-prime players (who get immediately suspended) and unnecessary, but good, goaltenders. Oh, and buyout Grabovski. That was supremely dumb. This, in turn, will lead down the same road most Leafs seasons have: one of utter pain and woefulness with brief glimpses of hope and fighting for the bottom of the division (lol Atlantic division, really….). It will be the kind of season Leafs fans are well used to. Then the up in arms rhetoric will begin, nothing will further change because of cap issues and we’ll be on this wayward path for a long time.
Extreme 2: Dumb Luck
Like Penicillin or Post-It Notes, there will be some accidental collision of dumb things that will lead to unexpected success. Somehow the goaltending move will pay off, leading to the same defence not needing to be trusted as much and letting all the forward do most of the work. Or some iteration of that. Could be that the D gets wise and actually shapes up. Could be that the forwards see a strong net presence and take more risks. I’m not quite sure. This will lead to a fight for the upper echelons of the division.
Do I think the Leafs are capable of winning out over a Boston or a Detroit? Probably not, but we can show 58.5 minutes of tenacity against the Bruins at least.
So those are my feelings, boiled down into some soppy mess of words and emoting. If you’ve read to the end, congratulations! You get an internet cookie! If not, then you’re a liar since you’re reading this line now and I’m judging you. So is ceiling cat.
Bring on October.
]]>
Travel timing didn’t work out for Leafs players or brass to show up in big numbers, but that didn’t dampen the spirits of over 100 attendees or detract at all from the hockey chatter.
And what an appropriate week to hold this – Canada Week for the Caps.
It was a great event. Guests were encouraged to wear their favorite jerseys – so refreshing from the typical DC garb of drab dark suits. We spotted gear from the Leafs, Jets, mystery Euro leagues, and a couple from area men’s league teams. My colleague Bill had a very cool Baltimore Bandits (AHL, 1995-1997) sweater while I was sporting my Caps Winter Classic Laughlin #18 jersey. The only one not impressed by that was CSN’s Alan May. OK, Alan May – cool guy or coolest guy ever? Hint: the latter.
The luncheon was held in a beautiful room high atop the Pennsylvania Avenue embassy and offered a commanding view of the Capitol. Attendees were treated to a beer and wine bar, and in the case of your intrepid teetotaler reporter, plenty of soft drinks. Servers brought out trays upon trays of tasty snackies – sliders and some yummy mini-pizzas loaded with bacon. Mmmm!!!! Bacon.
Headliners for the luncheon were dozens of members of the USA Warrior Ice Hockey Program, NHL Deputy Commissioner Bill Daly, Caps GM, George McPhee and from TSN, hockey analyst Gord Miller.
We were welcomed by Canadian Air Force Attaché, Colonel Scott Howden. In brief remarks, he first offered condolences to those lost and injured in Boston – a sober and appropriate reminder given that the suffering seen Monday was an all too familiar sight to the many active duty military and veterans in the audience.
Col. Howden then talked hockey, specifically his wish to see all Canadian NHL teams make it to the playoffs (at the expense of the Rangers and Isles). For one particular Canadian team, he hoped that they weren’t peaking too soon – the Edmonton Oilers. Chuckles rippled through the hockey-savvy crowd.
Next up, Canadian Defence (we’re spelling this the right way) Attaché, Major General Nicolas Matern, spoke of the great work the Warriors program – a transition for soldiers to rehabilitate. He recognized them for their military service off the ice and their hard work on.
Canadian Ambassador Gary Doer wrapped the program and reminded all to enter the raffle for two sweaters that were up for grabs, Caps and Leafs. Funds raised from that go to the Warriors program. We were then ushered out onto the terrace for a group photo, my pal and I taking a knee in the front.
All in all, a great afternoon and our thanks to the embassy staff for making us feel welcome. These events usually see an Eastern Conference Canadian team featured, but we can expect one from the Western Conference for the 2014 luncheon. I’d say which team it is but that wouldn’t be very diplomatic of me.
]]>Anyway, yes I am here. It’s been a funny thing coming to finally write an update, mainly because I get an idea, some inspiration to write, and then it’s shot to hell by Winnipeg or an injury or it’s the obvious news. Or it’s just my brain working too hard on something that should be organic. Digression…
What I finally decided upon was a kind of…amalgam of ideas into one hopefully coherent post. There are 10 bonus points if you can guess the type of wine I was drinking while writing this. It’s shit, but it’s wine, so there’s that.
So first thing, I do owe the lockout a great debt. Other than keeping me out of more debt, it brought me deeper into non-NHL hockey. This isn’t to say I wasn’t interested in it, but it was always a secondary thing to watch to the big NHL. I have realized through going to a bunch of OHL or AHL games over the past few weeks and months. Barrie Colts, Oshawa Generals and the Toronto Marlies have all been the teams of this awakening I’ve had.
It all started in Barrie, going with friends as a way of seeing hockey that was relatively close to my house. I had not in recent memory been to an OHL game and had no idea what to expect. Especially in Barrie.
See, Barrie is this special place. And by special, I mean generally perceived not great. Just as a for instance, I was in Barrie visiting my mother and was solicited to buy crack at the bus station on Sunday evening. That was fun. And that is the general image a lot of people have of Barrie. While, yes, there are nogoodnicks, I realized it was also passionate about its hockey.
I didn’t expect great shakes going to the Colts games I did, I figured it’d be a meagre crowd of mainly friends and parents, more or less passively watching and giving baseline attention. I could not have been any more wrong, The place was packed, cheers all the time, all age groups, both teams represented…and sweet fancy lord they had big beer. Not that I ever had 5. Not to mention the Colts play a pretty fun game to watch.
I also briefly forayed into the world of the Oshawa Generals, alongside the lovely Kathryn and Sarah (y’all know them from Twitter). Again, it was an action-packed game, crowd really into it. Again, I realized I’ve been artificially holding myself back from all aspects of hockey, blinded by the big shiny thing.
That said, I’ve also taken to going to Toronto Marlies games. And boy, I suck. I really suck hard. Haaaaaaaard. I would definitely posit, rather safely, that the entertainment value of a Marlies game is on par (at minimum) with a Maple Leafs game. The first I was four rows from the ice. Which is the closest I’ve ever been to a hockey game. Second I was perched over centre ice. And I liked it. Very, very much. And I finally got to buy some You Can Play gear, the water bottle of which I proudly drink out of every day.
Plus I think I have a crush on a mascot, which is a terrifying prospect and I will not go further down that rabbit hole because I’m sure I’ve given a lot of you enough fodder by even admitting that, so much so that I’m rambling on in an attempt to distract you from the shame that I sort of maybe feel but not really and I’m certain many of you will laud this over me for a while but if you don’t I will build several churches in your honour. Or not. Moving on. Most importantly, they sell smoked meat sandwiches and poutine at Ricoh Coliseum. Which if that wasn’t reason enough to go already what with the good hockey, the vittles are certainly there.
I won’t get esoteric or anything (well, more esoteric), but I will implore any of you who have not given minor league teams a fairer shake, please do. The tickets are cheaper (in most markets), the hockey is as good (if not better) and it’s such a wonderful experience that you will not regret.
That being said, the season being back did bring out the crazy in me. That crazy is called driving to and from Detroit twice in three weeks for three hockey games. And no, I’m not also a closet Wings fan. Imagine if I added yet another team to my exhaustive list of teams I like. At last count it was what? 27 teams were my favourite? (It’s two, you vultures. Only ever two, and yes you can have two teams you love….)
Ok, brief aside on that parenthetical note: you can have multiple teams you are passionate about. I have been a Leafs fan since I can remember (despite photographic proof of me in a Panthers windbreaker, Kings shirt and a Sharks t-shirt while riding a pony). I’m fairly certain it was just a thing that was inevitable, as it would be growing up a whisker away from Toronto.
As for the Canucks, it started with a certain gentleman by the name of Markus Naslund and his quite attractive face. Yes, that is the reason I started liking the Canucks. It wasn’t as ratcheted up as the Leafs at the time, but it lay there, smoldering. The smoldering turned into smoke which turned into a spot fire which became a blaze and is now a flaming mess. So I have deep roots in the Leafs, but a crazy passion with the Canucks. Both exist simultaneously and coexist in peace. I watch each of their games, scream just as much, wear shirts/shirseys as often…
But back on point. There were two things I’ve really garnered from the 3 Wings games I saw. First, the Red Wings desperately need a new arena. I know this is not news, but compared to the other arenas I’ve been in for hockey or other events (been to Rogers Arena, the Joe, ACC, Scotiabank Place, Bell Centre, MSG, Staples Centre, Consol, St. Petes Times Tribune Examiner of Clearwater County Horatio Caine Forum Centre Arena Coliseum, Verizon…) it shows its age and desperate need of revitalization. If but for the fact it is impossible to move on the single concourse (yes, just one) during intermission or trying to leave the Joe needs a replacement.
I know a lot of ideas have been floated, but it does detract from the experience. The history of the building, however, cannot be overlooked. When you walk inside you do feel a part of history. It is quite a fun experience. Not to mention a distantish relative of mine was a Red Wing back in the day (Bill Gadsby). If you get there early enough, walk around the place, it’s history everywhere. It is one of the few remaining relics of hockey years gone by, and one of only three arenas not to have corporate sponsorship. Can you name the other two? Hmmmmm? I game one away earlier. But again, bonus points if you can name the remaining ones.
The second issue, while not unique to the Joe or the Wings, just happened to occur at the tail end of an 8-3 rout of the Canucks by the Wings. After the Wings scored their 8th, a chorus of USA USA USA chants erupted. Really? REALLY?! Removing the fact the Canucks have MORE AMERICANS ON THEIR ROSTER (a point which I loudly exclaimed to the amusement of others around me), this is a phenomenon I simply do not understand. When a Canadian team beats an American one, we don’t break out into O Canada or other chants (Olympics excluded and World Juniors, where it is ACTUALLY nationalistic).
And don’t make me bring up 1812 again (still). But really, I just don’t get it. Is it posturing to show how much of an alleged hat Canada is? Assist me in understanding this, I ask with actual curiosity. Maybe I’ll just start chants of ISAAC BROCK or TECUMSEH or LAURA SECORD clap clap clapclapclap. Because that shouldn’t be a surprise really coming from me. And, as some of you know, Laura Secord is my homegirl.
Hey, apparently wine brings out my Canadian nationalistic pride. Isn’t that a funny thing? Oh, it was a terrible Riesling by the way. Ugh, such a waste of $12.
But who cares, I’m going to have a soak in the tub with this terrible wine and listen to a 90s dance playlist on Songza -then bedtime – because that’s how Mondays go with me. Right now Da Funk is playing and I’m getting into a nice groove. My cue to stop typing and go. Godspeed all, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.
]]>First a confession. Prior to last Sunday, I had never been to Pride. Yes, I know. You don’t need to say anything. I had watched on TV, heard stories from friends, but never went down. But this year, oh this year, I decided to partake. Of course it’s the year that the big Pride parade coincides with Canada Day, the end of Euro Cup, a Jays game and two music festivals. Toronto was a bit congested. I knew Patrick and Brian Burke would be there, as well as Scott Heggart, so I figured I’d represent my hockey self while celebrating Canada.
Yes, I’m wearing a Hockey Canada shirt. By my posters of the Canadian Men’s Olympic Champion hockey team from the 2010 Olympics. And my Canadian flag. And action figures of Crosby, Iginla and Luongo from the Olympics too. And Rick Nash poster. Yeah. And people say Canadians aren’t patriotic. I know you never would, but some people…
So I headed down, with a friend and to meet up with another. And let me tell you, ooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhh boy had I been missing out. Walking into the cordoned off area specially for Pride festivities was amazing from the first second. Tents of stuff to hand out, people enjoying diversity, food, music, just truly amazing. With only one complaint: apparently Pride is only capable of playing songs by Lady Gaga, Rihanna or Nicki Minaj. Without hyperbole, I heard “Where Have You Been”, “Star Ships”, “Super Bass” and “Born This Way” nearly exclusively. What’s next? A float brodcasting the lady gaga snapchat for all to see… I love this event but im getting tired of the commercialism.
I heard a few of those while waiting for a free whistle. Yes, I had to wait for a free whistle. Why? Because I had to take a picture to get one. Yes, it was an ordeal. I was so unbelievably hard done to get that whistle. I didn’t enjoy it at all. Not in the least. But as you know, I’m a tad OCD, so I naturally headed over to Yonge Street (the parade street) early to stake out my spot. Got a good one. Right by the TV cameras. Sadly, and I know you were watching, I didn’t get my small screen debut. Except for that one time my arm was on Hockey Night in Canada during a Leafs/Devils game back in 2003.
But I did get some decent pictures of the parade, excitedly looking forward to seeing the Burkes march with Rick Mercer, PFLAG on behalf of You Can Play. Naturally I was too excited clapping and blowing my whistle and cheering to take a picture of them, but I did get others… The whole parade was a joy. Cheering, whistle blowing, awkward waving, nudity… My first Pride certainly did not disappoint.
Then the colossal exodus to bars, street activities, transit happened. I had to make my way to Mick E. Fynn’s, as I was fortunate enough to be meeting up with Patrick, Scott and Scott’s boyfriend Brock. A tricky rest stop at the Loblaws grocery store built inside the shell of Maple Leaf Gardens (still a sacrilege in my mind) and a delightful j-walk in front of a streetcar later and we were in the packed pub..with everyone watching Spain beat up on Italy (it was 2-0 when we walked in).
How many times can it be said there was a gay hockey meet up after a gay pride parade? Probably not many, if any prior to this. But that’s just what this was. Gay hockey blogger, gay hockey player and his boyfriend, and a great ally and YCP founder in Patrick, getting together to shoot the shit, drink and discuss hockey and You Can Play.
Brock, Patrick, Scott and myself. Yes, I’m wearing a sticker that says gay. Just in case people forgot. And I’m wearing my whistle. And beads. My cargo shorts’ pockets are also full of free condoms. And a hat. And a bottle opener.
And that’s just what we did: talk. Well, as best we could over the screams of happy Spanish fans with their two subsequent goals. We talked about the parade (and all the whistle blowing), hockey, trades, things to do in the city…and being awkward white guys. A tip Patrick shared: if you’re an awkward white guy and need to dance in a club, utilize the “buttons and levers” technique. This is where you pretend to push buttons and pull levers instead of focussing to heavily on dancing. It works. Trust me, I tried it out and it works. Honestly, put on any dance song and pretend you’re some lever pulling button pusher. It gives you the mystique of rhythm. It’s truly wonderful. I, however, have the gift of dance. Or so an open bar of White Russians has me believe.
Some more serious things were talked about, naturally. You Can Play has blossomed from its humble beginnings, and rumblings back during my interview with Patrick many months ago. There are some big things in the pipeline. One thing, surely to warrant much attention, is the opening of their online store. The hopeful date is quite soon (mid-July), so please keep checking their site. Great products will be there. Some awesome stuff. We drank and carried on, realized Scott and I are terrible wingmen and just enjoyed each other’s company. Unfortunately the afternoon ended far too soon, but we will all meet up again. Guaranteed. I hope…
So that’s the story of my first Pride. Gay + Hockey. Quite literally. I couldn’t have been more proud. And look, we’ve polished off this bottle. I’ll have to get another ready for my upcoming travel pieces. Yes, I promise you’ll like it. OH! And PS, this happened:
]]>“Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light….” – Dylan Thomas
Unfortunately for the Leafs, that light died out weeks ago.
On a steady decline from first in the league, we (as of this writing) are 12th in the East and 24th overall. The most shocking part of this? It is within the realms of reason that we could end up LAST in the East and 29th overall (NYI and TBL are one point behind, MTL only 3). How could a team that started off with such promise, that got an entire city buzzing, collapse into a such a rusted, tangled, dented god-damn misery of a mess?
Based on the performance of late, the coaching isn’t the issue (both Wilson and Carlyle suck? Sure, possible, but…) That leaves management and the players. Both of which are equally guilty.
We have made bad trades, bad acquisitions and have a wonderful talent for trading away mediocre players in Toronto that turn into stars in other markets (see: St. Louis Blues, Boston Bruins, Colorado Avalanche etc.). Burke, while I love the guy, needs to give his head a shake and rethink his strategy with this club.
If he can’t, well, there’s only one option left.
As for player talent, we have some real stars on the team, but are woefully deficient in most other ways. Having goal scorers is no good if we don’t have defence or goaltending, having a good winger is no good with a shitbum centreman. We have a lot of holes that need to get filled. We also have some players that are just chronic underperformers and a relatively lacking NHL-calibre junior team.
The city and the fanbase can put up with a lot and, of course, we will anyway. But we’re getting tired and impatient. We see the same predictable moves, the same head-scratching re-signings, and wonder what the hell the TML brass are thinking. IF they even are.
It gets one to wonder if this is not part of some terribly played out and obvious trajectory? Fellow blogger Will Collie (a major Leafs fan and teriffic writer – @will_collie on twitter), made a very salient and quite shockingly apropos analogy between the NHL and WCW [not everyone follows wrasslin’, yours truly included, but I remember back to these days and Will paints a very clear and maddeningly obvious path each business took]. He sums it up rather nicely:
“If you step aside and compare this situation to the one WCW dealt with, you can see how eerily similar it actually is. They ran with a hot hand way too long (The Sundin era), failed to develop the younger pieces to eventually take over, those younger players were moved out and most importantly, failed to bring in a back bone necessary for success.
The product in 2004 looked almost the same as it did in 1999 (just like WCW’s product in 1999 was the same as 1995). They ran their few good pieces into the ground and failed to bring in a supporting cast that would work well with their franchise player (Hogan had Hall and Nash, Sundin had Roberts, Mogilny and Joseph, Kessel has nobody which is the same amount of support that Goldberg had in WCW). The issues and problems just kept adding up and now in 2012, fans haven’t seen a damn thing change.” [The full posts: Part One and Part Two]
It’s infuriating as a Leafs fan to see such an obvious thing play out in front of you. I could draw the parallel even further to another Canadian product: Blackberry. Blackberry was king for years, providing business with the kind of security they craved. It was virtually tailor made for the corporate world. And kids latched on the BBM. Loved it. Used it. And they ran with it, quite successfully. But the market started to change. iPhone and Android-powered phones became the “thing”.
They had the security now, but they also had the functionality that everyone wanted. But Blackberry had put all its money on their encryption being what will keep them relevant…while keeping new phone development on the backburner and new software at bay. This decision cut their legs out from under them, and look at them now: falling stock, unstable business and incessant rumours of takeovers. They ran with their golden boy who, unfortunately, grew up into the chartreuse man. Yes, that is an implication that chartreuse is an unattractive colour. Because it is.
And every attempt BB makes to improve, it seems to backfire. Changing out the boss isn’t really helping. Developing new isn’t producing the desired results. Keeping the same surely isn’t helping. So what to do, what to do, BlackBerry (and Brian Burke [oooooohhhhh!])?
I’d like to wave my magic wand, use my Carnac divining skills, and be able to posit some moves the Leafs should do on the offseason to ensure next year isn’t abrogated. I can make broad strokes: some debridement of the roster needs to happen. A real concerted effort to sign a new, tested goaltender needs to happen. Defence needs to, you know, happen. But that’s nothing new.
This may seemed like re-hashed old hat, but it’s an ongoing issue that sees no sign of letting up. And it’s part of understanding what March and April mean in Toronto. It’s an incredibly defeated time. We know we can’t make it, so fans start booing in the stands, chanting various FIRE (name) things. I hate to see it every year, but it comes like the bloody mosquitoes (of which I already have a bloody bite, how the actual hell?): on time, annoyingly and incessantly. It’s not right, but it’s ok. We’re going to make it anyway. I hope.
There will come a day when this isn’t the ritual in the city, when there is a playoff fever, a special feeling we have again. It will happen, but when is up for discussion. And who it will be with and who it will be under, are up in the air. It’s just a question of time.
Post-script:
March 22 marked two months since I lost my beloved grandmother. No one here knew her, but she was a delightful Russian lady (and I do mean lady, she was as classy and dignified as they came). And a hockey fan. She came from Russia after World War Two and settled in Montreal, only to move a decade later to Toronto. And she always loved the Leafs. And disliked Montreal.
She’d always call me after Jeopardy (it ends at 8pm here), asking if I got the Final right and then ask if any hockey was on. If she knew ahead of time, she’d call before 7 so she wouldn’t disturb the game. I always told her she was never a disturbance, but she still gave hockey that deference. And when I’d tell her that Toronto and Montreal would be playing, she’d most often say something along the lines of “Shar up, Montreal!” (that’s Russian grandmother for “Shut up, Montreal!”)
Despite being from Mother Russia, she always, loudly, cheered for Team Canada. I remember the gold medal game at the 2010 Olympics. She called me after Canada won in overtime and was so happy, but she was even happier that I was so happy. And that’s the way she always was: happiest most when those she loved were happy. I suppose she rubbed off on some of her friends, too.
Of the various images I have emblazoned in my mind from her funeral, there is one of an elderly Russian neighbour of hers, crying, in the cold, hats and gloves. But the gloves had pink Toronto Maple Leafs logos on them. I couldn’t help but look at them and smile. She’d have had it no other way. Я люблю тебя, бабушка.
[Disclosure 1: Research in Motion is a client of Craig’s PR firm]. [Disclosure 2: Thank you Grandma for helping raise such a wonderful young man].
]]>Listening to the terrestrial radio the other day (because my iPod died, I couldn’t find the damn cord, I’m out of burnable CDs and the kind I like aren’t made anymore and apparently electronics are out to get me), I heard a song that I think truly encapsulates the Toronto Maple Leafs right now.
You can sing it along in your head, or cue it up on YouTube, but I was struck enough by one of my favourite Fleetwood Mac songs to put it up here:
“I took my love and I took it down. I climbed a mountain and I turned around. And I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills, ‘til the landslide brought me down. Oh mirror in the sky, what is love?
Can the child within my heart rise above? Can I sail through the changing ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life? Mmm mmm I don’t know.
Well I’ve been afraid of changing, cause I’ve built my life around you. But times makes you bolder, children get older, and I’m getting older, too…”
Landslide is quite appropriate, no? Sitting pretty above the league, then a complete free-falling descent into damn near last place in the conference. Or as Brian Burke put it, “like an 18-wheeler heading off a cliff.” Such a fiery disaster of a mess these last few months have been. Last week, Toronto fans had their fill of losing and excuses and audibly chanted “FIRE WILSON” during the embarrassing outing against the Florida Panthers.
Amazingly, it worked. After doing nothing at trade deadline and not firing him months ago, Ron Wilson was “relieved of coaching duties” last Friday. His replacement is former Ducks head coach Randy Carlyle.
Apparently the 2011-2012 Leafs are trying to be the mid-00s Ducks. In multiple ways. Hopefully without trading Lupul 60 times.
Now look, success is a slow process. But sweet fancy Moses, everything seems to be a day late and a dollar short. Let’s not fire the inept coach before the trade deadline so the new coach can help make personnel decisions. No, let’s not do that. Let’s not try to improve the team when there was a reasonable chance of making the playoffs. Why the dickens would that happen? Ugh, but I’m not bitter. I swear.
That being said, however, the first outing against the Canadiens last Saturday was a shocking one. Why? No, not just because we won (even though it was). It was because of the playmaking. Yes, we’re capable of that. Every single goal (Frattin, Grabo and Grabo) were set up with a corner centering pass. Games ago, that would have slid out of the zone and caused a chorus of groans and generally bitch/whining from us.
However, using some sort of gypsy magic, there were players open in front of the goal. To receive a pass. And actually shoot. Fancy that logic: get pass, shoot on net, score goal! But it really seemed that basic rule of hockey was missing from the Leafs of late. It almost seemed that they got overwhelmingly surprised that there was a black disc of rubber on their sticks. I don’t know what kind of magic spells Carlyle brought from SoCal, but my god did they work on Saturday.
It almost made the copious amount of beer I drank while watching the game unnecessary. Almost. Because beer is never unnecessary. Shock Top is very, very nom. And free beers from the lovely bartender lady because of misspours? Love love love. Helped with the SUPER SUICIDE BLAZIN’ wings I consumed. Because I hate myself, apparently. But I managed, because I can take it. Thus began the few days of not sadness………………
Then Boston and Pittsburgh happened. Why win when reverting to your old ways is ever so much more fun, eh? No one open, no coverage, flukey goaltending. Thankfully, while in attendance for the Bruins @ Leafs game, several GOOD things (yes, good!) did happen:
1. Game with a friend is always more fun (especially a friend whose dinner suggestion is street meat. Brilliant, Eddie).
2. Jim Cuddy sang the national anthems (lead singer for Blue Rodeo. Canadian thing.)
3. I met Walter Gretzky and had him sign my shirt!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
4. Cute boy on bus on way home.
But the best of all that happened on Tuesday happened during the middle of the third. The Leafs were down and you knew (and could sense everyone else did, too) that the game was lost. So I made some flip remark about how Amish Paradise will always be better than Gangsta’s Paradise. Little did I know that this would prompt a rather long and entertaining discussion amongst the seats around, about merits of Weird Al and other glorious things, providing a much-needed bit of levity to a terrible turn of events in the game.
Still good to get out and see hockey though, in any form. Which leads me to a small aside, however: If you have tickets to a hockey game, do not first show up five minutes into the second period. Then, after doing that, do not spend the rest of the period on your phone or OUT OF YOUR SEAT IN THE CONCESSION AREA. And after THAT, do not think we’re not going to snipe about you, you bastards. It’s just proper etiquette.
Barely removed from the shyte play of Tuesday, Wednesday’s Pens game saw another early lead evaporate and the same lapses and generally crap play happen all over. Chances of making the playoffs, 85% not a few weeks ago, are now in the single digits of percentages. I have a better shot of being Queen of England than the Leafs of making the playoffs at this point, and that’s incredibly upsetting.
And, naturally, we’ll win JUST enough games to ensure a craptacular draft slot. Because hey, we can’t even suck good sometimes.
Yes, that sentence was intentionally horrible. The musings of the forever frustrated Leafs fan can get a tad incoherent at times. At least I don’t smell burnt toast….yet.
Yes, there are still weeks to go. But no, if we keep playing the way we’ve been playing, we will not and deserve not to make the playoffs. Just a few things to help understand the minds of Leafs Nation:
1. If Florida makes the playoffs this year, there will be only ONE team that has not made it to the post-season since the Lockout. Guess who?
2. There are only SIX active players who have played in a Toronto Maple Leafs playoff game.
If we keep on the slide we’re on, some crazy s**t needs to go down in the offseason. Blow up the entire freaking team (save for a handful of key pieces) and fix the goaltending and defence situations foremost. I like Reimer, but he’s not a starter yet. He needs time to adjust. Hopefully he follows a Price-esque trajectory and suddenly kills it next season. But who knows?
And if Gus is re-signed? Oh by god, get me my rage hat.
There are just so many things that need fixing. Yet, I fear, this will be another off-season of excuses and little change. Because, hey, why not go back to what we’re used to?
Follow Andrew on twitter and console him in his time of need: @manbearpiglpu
]]>“On Monday I went to work and a coworker said she was getting tickets off Kijiji (a free classifieds site in Canada). $500 for a pair of 12th row behind the benches at centre ice tickets. Didn’t need to ask me twice. I told her as soon as she had the tickets, I would give her the money and all would be splendid. Except.
Buddy kept giving her the run around. Telling her tickets needed to be emailed by MLSE. Or that he sent them already and she must have deleted them. Needless to say, the week dragged on and this guy kept flaking out. Friday came around and the guy basically said “I’m keeping your money and you can sue me, you liar.” So there it was. Friday, day before game day, friend out $500 and us not having tickets.
But folks, angels exist. Big, beautiful angels. As I had resigned myself by Friday night to not going to the game, I get a Facebook message from a former coworker. She asks if I’m still in desire of two Canucks tickets. I say yes. She tells me how her wife got them as a tip for a job, tried to sell them, go screwed over by the buyer and now just wanted to get what she could for them. I promptly lose my shit. And, after an exchange of SIGNIFICANTLY less money, my friend and I had the tickets in our hands. There is good still left in this world. Needless to say, it was a minor miracle how all this fell apart and rebuilt itself within 24 hours.
My friend and I (it was also her birthday on the Saturday, so it was double special) were at odds, because we’re both Canucks and Leafs fans. We wanted to rep both teams so we flipped a coin to see who would wear what jersey. I got the Canucks again, she wore her McCabe jersey.
We head down to the game and are met at the gate by very attractive fellow Leafs/Canucks fans with a sexiful Quebec accent. We all get to talking and high fiving and being rabble rousers. It was great. Then the doors open, we go to our seats, drop off our shit and head down to the glass for warmup again. We’re on the Canucks side again, so I get double duty on Canucks pics. Which, hey, I can’t deny was awesome (on the most vain of levels, they are a far more attractive team than the Leafs).
It marked an important game for on Canuck in particular. For Cody Hodgson, it was his first game in his hometown. So he came out a little early to take it all in.
I didn’t quite make it to the glass for warmup, so I was perched a little higher. But, in actuality, this allowed me some very, VERY nice pics. See here: Warmup love (and guess who I fancy):
And the following is a shot I will forever be kicking my own ass over. Notice his jersey slightly askew? I was about 1.5 seconds shy of getting an abs shot. I got to see it with my own eyes, though. So fuck. But I’m so pissed. I’ll just have to go to another one to get it.
We watch them go off and get into our seats. It was going to be a good game. Either side winning was good by us, we had GREAT seats. Oh, but before we went back, I went into the concourse one more time. And guess who was there? Miss Sloppy Seconds herself.
All things above predicated what was an amazing game. I was cheering non-stop, Leafs would score, Canucks would score, it was a wonderful night of hockey. It’s an amazing thing seeing your two favourite teams lock horns and just go for it. Vancouver bested the Leafs in the end, but it didn’t matter. It was an evening of pure and utter contentment. Seeing good hockey, in a great city, with my top two teams. How can you beat that? And hell, I even got to talk about my new phone to a hot guy on the bus ride back home. Batting a thousand, for real. And now, more splendid pics:
It was a great week of hockey. There’s very little that can top the atmosphere inside an NHL arena on game day. It’s electric. It’s magical. In a word? It’s unicorns. And I’ve got three more unicorns on the horizon. Life is good.”
Life is good, Andrew is better. Following him on twitter is best: @manbearpiglpu
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