Hockey Archive

1

End this now, L.A.

I have finally mustered up the mildest bit of enthusiasm for the Stanley Cup Final. It’s frigging June. This is getting ridiculous.

Game 5 is tomorrow night. The Kings almost swept New Jersey, sweet Christ, I wish they had. I’m still recovering my hockey-watching mental energy from the triple overtime game between Washington and the Rangers a month ago. I can’t take much more of this.

So what happens when the Stanley Cup final consists of two teams you don’t care about? Last year was half fun: both teams were villains in my books, and a whole city was destroyed. This year, I’m rooting for L.A., just because, ugh, I want this to be over. I know nothing about their team except for the fact that Jonathan Quick has the best/funniest name for a goalie, they have great beards, they have purple on their sweaters, and…?

My prediction: Kings in 6. I’d like to think they will finish it tomorrow night, but I’m wrong a lot.

If you're a hockey player and you don't look like this, you're doing it wrong.

0

About that hockey game last night…

Thanks Boston fans, for keeping it classy after a devastating loss in OT to the Washington Capitals in Game 7. I watched the game. Caps outplayed them for most of the series and last night. Pretty straightforward.

Oh, but a black guy -who happens to be a good hockey player and a really nice person- scored the wining goal. It didn’t go over well.

Here’s just a taste:

We lost…. To a hockey playing nigger…. What kind of shit is this

There were hundreds of these, apparently. Yikes.

0

Mini Book Review

Read this right now: The Antagonist by Lynn Coady.

I can’t remember the last time I was this blown away, this crumpled, this inside-out over finishing a book. Coady’s last novel, Mean Boy, in 2006, maybe.

The Antagonist is about hockey, the Maritimes, pent-up masculine rage, fathers and sons, douchey guys in university, violence, loneliness — a coming-of-age novel that is somehow both quintessentially Canadian and placelessly universal.

I don’t have time to write a longer review, but here is what other critics are saying:

Globe and Mail: “One could open a review of Lynn Coady’s new novel, this week long-listed for the Scotiabank Giller Prize, by saying it’s about a hockey enforcer. Certainly her protagonist, given the recent deaths of three real-world hockey “hit men,” arrives with a macabre, if accidental, timeliness. But The Antagonist is a full-bodied work of fiction, and to say it’s about an enforcer is like saying The Catcher in the Rye is about a prep-school student – true, but absurdly reductive, especially since this is a novel that is all about how it feels to be categorized, dismissed, reduced by the very people who should know you best.”

National Post: “Watching Rank come to terms with his past is one of the novel’s great pleasures. What begin as harassing, mocking emails to his former friend — veiled threats, wisecracks about Adam’s weight — soon evolve, almost unintentionally, into a traditional memoir, as the reader learns more about Rank’s troubled childhood (he’s the adopted son of an overbearing father and a mother who died in his youth), his university career (he earns a hockey scholarship but quits when the coach wants him to intentionally injure opposing players) and, eventually, what he’s become”

Rabble.ca: “The book is the anti-buddy film, the anti-villain, the anti-hockey novel we all quite possibly could use. I say quite possibly because I’m puzzled by the fact that the water cooler rep of this book is “the hockey book” despite how hard Coady has worked to make this possibly the most unique take on what it is to be a man raging against a man and trying to use mind over matter.”

3

Shit just got a whole lotter sadder.

Here I was Wednesday, lamenting how it couldn’t get any worse to be a Habs fan.

And then last night happened. Aside from our rather unspectacular play against the Bruins, our BEST PLAYER got traded in the MIDDLE OF THE GAME?!?!?!?! The arguable one valuable player we had to make any deals with got traded to the Calgary Flames. And here comes the really sad part: for a guy who is currently serving his SECOND suspension in a month, a no-class goon that Calgary has been looking to dump for awhile. Wow. Just wow.

Here’s where it gets really shitty. Mike Cammalleri makes somewhere in the neighbourhood of six million a year. This douchebag goon makes three million – there were a few other pithy little draft picks thrown in and some poor sap from the AHL, but still we are very much on the losing end in this one. It reminds me of the time we traded Halak – then the hottest goalie in the playoffs to St. Louis for Lars Eller, two buckets of chicken and a ride to the liquor store.  So let me check GM Pierre Gaulthier’s math of this one: if you keep up this logic of trading six million for three million – or in the case of Scott Gomez (who desperately needs to be traded), seven million for a bag of Doritos and a wheezy basset hound (his current trade value) – you will quickly get to zero.

I would like to say I’m done with this goddamn team, but that will never be true.

1

Carey Price’s puppy-dog eyes: A Habs fan’s lament

Holy Jesus, it’s a sad time to be a Montreal Canadiens fan. The team is in shambles, fights are breaking out in practice, our interim head coach can’t speak French and Francophone protesters are up in arms, our captain has been injured for several months and now appears to be re-injured and we can’t win a jeezeless game. Our record is 16-19-7, and we are 12th out of 15 in our division. Yuck.

It’s also a sad day to be Carey Price. Last night his former backup goalie-turned-rival-turned-usurper came back for his first game in Montreal on the opposing team, the St. Louis Blues, and got a pretty sweet shutout. He was also named first star of the game and got a standing ovation from Montreal fans.

I am fascinated with the dynamic between two young, talented goalies on the same team (the Washington Capitals from 2009-2011 come to mind with Varlamov and Neuvirth battling for the starting role until Varly got sent packing to Colorado). Montreal had an interesting couple of years with all the back and forth between Price and Halak. And even though Halak got unceremoniously shipped off to St. Louis, it still sucks to be Carey Price. Montreal fans like to turn on, well, anyone and everyone, when shit gets bad. And although Carey Price has not been near our biggest problem so far this season, he isn’t as hot as he could be. To say that people have high expectations for him would be an understatement –one of his early nicknames in the Montreal media was Jesus Price. The poor guy also has the saddest eyes of any goalie I’ve ever seen. He looks like a kicked puppy.

 

What’s it going to take for this team to turn it all around? I have no idea. Firing the General Manager would be a good start. They will probably all get turned into paraplegicstomorrow night when they play the Bruins, so does it even matter? Still, I refuse to bear the indignity of not making the playoffs. That would be too much for my sad little Habs fan heart to take

Interjection by Ben: Not making the playoffs will break your heart? Honey, try being a Raptors fan.

0

Just a friendly NHL reminder

That the Boston Bruins will be hoisting the Stanley Cup banner up into the rafters tonight as their 2011-2012 season commences in earnest. Yes, my Canadian friends, I am rubbing it in.

(Cue obligatory outrage about what an awful person Chara is for one sketchy check in an otherwise clean and illustrious career. Oh, except the second part. Never mind then. Cue obligatory outrage about what an awful person Chara is, period.)

0

On why I might mourn some hockey players…

My dad thinks I’m crazy, feeling sad about a rich hockey player I didn’t know personally swinging from the end of a rope. I try to explain that I still love this game, I still admire the people who play it, even though I agree that athletes are elevated as heroes in the most ridiculous of ways. Sidney Crosby is just a guy from Cole Harbour who’s good at playing a fucking game, and gets paid millions of dollars to do it, my dad says, so why should I give a shit? Except maybe he won’t be good at playing that game anymore, and I feel sad about that too. Dad’s mad that the game is so different from when he was a kid, back in the glory days, back in the sixties, back when there were only six teams, and he thinks hockey is silly now, all dump-and-chase, and he’s right.

But I still love it, and I picture these big rich men as little boys, skating in backyard rinks, single-mindedly dwelling on the puck, and the stick, and the net, and their dreams of being in the NHL. And the League is run like any other business, and it’s yucky, and I hate it, and I’m sure the disappointment for some of these guys is overwhelming — getting from the backyard to the massive arena, to find out the game they love is suddenly all about bottom lines and stats and television rights and advertising dollars.

And now a whole plane full of hockey players is lost, and I will call my dad tonight and ask him how he feels about it.

1

Grantland: Fancy Boy Writers So-So, Girl Writer Puts Them All to Shame

Editor Tom told me to post a picture of Tim Thomas hoisting the cup. I say fuck that.

So Grantland, the new sports venture between Bill Simmons and ESPN, launched last week — apparently to much fanfare, although I stumbled on it by accident through the Atlantic’s website (they poo-poo-ed it). I like it, although Klosterman and Eggers, two of the fancy names attached to it, have been pretty mediocre so far. Bill Simmons stuff has been pretty entertaining, but all in all, it had better get better — and soon — because it’s a good idea, and there needs to be more long-form sports writing out there, and I want it to survive.

So far the site appears to have two women writers out of ten or so, Katie Baker and Molly Lambert, which isn’t bad as far as representation goes, but isn’t great either. Molly Lambert, according to her byline, writes about pop culture for the site, leaving Katie Baker as the lone female sportswriter. Good thing she’s so frigging awesome.

I fell in love with Baker’s writing when I read her article “I Was Teenage Hockey Message Board Jailbait: The Confessions of a Former Adolescent Puck Tease” on Deadspin, about her days in the late 90s and early 2000s doing, well, exactly what the title says she did. It’s a great read. So far she’s written about hockey for Grantland — so jealous, want to steal her job — and she’s been awesome so far: funny, feisty, and knowledgeable about hockey, which is more than I can say about most American sportswriters.
A smattering:

Nice! What’s the over/under for the cameras showing Steve Nash?
9½, and he’ll be waving a rally towel in all of them. Definitely three times as much as they’ll show the Green Men.
And which Bruin will be shamelessly fawned over?
Tim Thomas, the 37-year-old goalie who spent nearly 10 years toiling in various minor and European leagues before making it to the NHL, and who as recently as last year was banished to the bench. He’ll likely win the Vezina trophy for best regular-season goaltender, and there’s an excellent chance that, win or lose, he’ll go home with the Conn Smythe trophy for MVP of the whole playoffs. (If he did, he’d be only the second American other than Brian Leetch to win the award.)
Fans and the media love Thomas for his affable quirkiness and make-you-gasp play. He’s always reminded me of a camp counselor: in great shape, approachable but a little bit distant, bearded, hangs by the pool on his off days, pauses and looks off into the middle distance before speaking, went to the University of Vermont.”

And:

“Soooo … (whistles casually) what’s this I keep hearing about redheaded Swedish twins?
Settle down. “The Sedin Sisters” is just a derogatory name. Vancouver’s Henrik and Daniel Sedin are two of the leagues’ top players. (During the regular season they were so preternaturally precise that highlights of their power plays were set to the Harlem Globetrotters theme song.) But they’ve been held to two goals against Boston, which has caused them to become a target for the media, fans, and, literally, to players. This is not a new phenomenon: In 2002 Vancouver’s then-GM Brian Burke famously ranted that “Sedin is not Swedish for punch me or headlock me in a scrum.””

And:

“In many ways the Green Men, the Vancouver Canucks’ writhing, jiving, Carrie Underwood sign-ing semi-official mascots, are shiny Spandex-unitarded distillations of the team itself. They are entertaining and irritating, derivative but inventive, silky and showy, and a little too satisfied. They are very often found upside-down.

I’ve been pretty “meh” about the Stanley Cup finals and didn’t think I would miss hockey when it was over — now that I’ve found Baker’s writing about it, though, I wish the hockey season never ended. I’m looking forward to next October. Hopefully Grantland will still be around then.

UPDATE: Throwing a bone to the B’s fans out there. Too funny not to post.

3

Fuck Yeah

I would just like to laugh at Canada for a moment if I could. Ha. Haha. HAHAHAHAHAHA!

I love you, man, but that was sweet.

Video tomorrow! When YouTube kicks in, and when I’m not so dizzy!

UPDATE: Here’s the highlight reel. For Ben, our resident Canuckistani/Nade, and very dear friend, I offer sincere condolences, and a hope for better luck next year (as long as you aren’t playing the Bruins).

0

Also, Too

See you in the Stanley Cup, Vancouver.

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