Thu - May 15, 2008
WWGRD?
not nearly as much as everyone
pretends.
I love Gary Roberts. I do. I love him for his
grit and his intensity, for his relentless work ethic and his ferocious, often
frightening fearlessness. Hell, I love him for this photo
alone:
It's obvious that he's brought a great, big equipment bag full of veteran leadership and stability and experience to the Pens' postseason locker room. He's long been one of the game's great warriors. He did a great job of helping set the tone in the first game of the first playoff series. And, yeah, a little bit of silly, goofy, cult-hero worship is always fun.
But sheesh.
This undying obsession that Pens' fans -- by which I mean, casual fans and immature fans and bandwagon-jumping fans -- have with Gary Roberts borders on the absurd and fast approaches the insane. In a team and a season rife with heroes, a loud and increasingly annoying faction of people has latched on to -- and, worse still, Chuck-Norris-ified -- a guy whose on-ice contributions number two goals, one assist, a +/- rating of -2, a few intimidating stares, and an overblown, if admittedly awesome, bad-ass challenge to fight five Ottawa Senators at once.
The Pens have won far more games without him than they have with him -- both in the regular season and in the postseason -- and, had they been without him for this entire playoff run, they would almost certainly boast the exact same record. At worst, they might have one fewer win.
If he never plays again in this postseason -- as he will not tonight, thanks to a minor case of pneumonia -- the difference to the team and to its on-ice performance will be slight. The Disciples of Gary will whine and moan and perhaps rend their garments, then resume the laying of laurels and blog posts and text messages at his skates anyway. Meanwhile, the Lovers of Gary But Disciples of Lord Stanley will shrug and sigh and content themselves in the knowledge that the far more versatile Adam Hall will be taking his place in the lineup. Because we know that when Gary Roberts plays, the Penguins are meaner and tougher. And that when he doesn't, they are faster and tighter.
And almost always better.
(Let's Go, Pens.)
It's obvious that he's brought a great, big equipment bag full of veteran leadership and stability and experience to the Pens' postseason locker room. He's long been one of the game's great warriors. He did a great job of helping set the tone in the first game of the first playoff series. And, yeah, a little bit of silly, goofy, cult-hero worship is always fun.
But sheesh.
This undying obsession that Pens' fans -- by which I mean, casual fans and immature fans and bandwagon-jumping fans -- have with Gary Roberts borders on the absurd and fast approaches the insane. In a team and a season rife with heroes, a loud and increasingly annoying faction of people has latched on to -- and, worse still, Chuck-Norris-ified -- a guy whose on-ice contributions number two goals, one assist, a +/- rating of -2, a few intimidating stares, and an overblown, if admittedly awesome, bad-ass challenge to fight five Ottawa Senators at once.
The Pens have won far more games without him than they have with him -- both in the regular season and in the postseason -- and, had they been without him for this entire playoff run, they would almost certainly boast the exact same record. At worst, they might have one fewer win.
If he never plays again in this postseason -- as he will not tonight, thanks to a minor case of pneumonia -- the difference to the team and to its on-ice performance will be slight. The Disciples of Gary will whine and moan and perhaps rend their garments, then resume the laying of laurels and blog posts and text messages at his skates anyway. Meanwhile, the Lovers of Gary But Disciples of Lord Stanley will shrug and sigh and content themselves in the knowledge that the far more versatile Adam Hall will be taking his place in the lineup. Because we know that when Gary Roberts plays, the Penguins are meaner and tougher. And that when he doesn't, they are faster and tighter.
And almost always better.
(Let's Go, Pens.)
Posted at 01:08 PM
Wed - May 14, 2008
THIS IS WHAT IT'S LIKE
when you're up 3-0.
In the Eastern Conference
Finals.
Like the day before Christmas, when you've waited all year, and you're dreaming about what you'll discover when you unwrap those presents under the tree.
Like the day before vacation, when you know the sun will be shining and the ocean breeze will be blowing and you can almost feel the sand warm between your toes.
Like looking forward to a long night's sleep, snuggling and cuddling yourself into bed and knowing that, after just a few more sweet dreams, you'll be primed and ready to face whatever the next day brings.
Like looking into her eyes and knowing, after a long, long time apart, that you're about to kiss her hello.
The last time the Penguins went to the Stanley Cup Finals, I was just a twenty-three-year-old newlywed grad student who loved hockey and counted his blessings and couldn't begin to imagine how it would feel to be 39 and have two sons with whom to play and share the game. I know the Penguins are still one game away. And I know that anything can happen. But I also know that I haven't felt like this in sixteen years and, truth be told, have never really felt like this at all.
One game away is, right now, more than close enough for me. If only because, when you really think about them, those magical nights and possible mornings, those almost-theres and especially those off-day afternoons, are the best and most exciting times of your life, suspended between the delicate joys of all that you've already done and the delicious anticipations of all the wonders that await you.
Like the day before Christmas, when you've waited all year, and you're dreaming about what you'll discover when you unwrap those presents under the tree.
Like the day before vacation, when you know the sun will be shining and the ocean breeze will be blowing and you can almost feel the sand warm between your toes.
Like looking forward to a long night's sleep, snuggling and cuddling yourself into bed and knowing that, after just a few more sweet dreams, you'll be primed and ready to face whatever the next day brings.
Like looking into her eyes and knowing, after a long, long time apart, that you're about to kiss her hello.
The last time the Penguins went to the Stanley Cup Finals, I was just a twenty-three-year-old newlywed grad student who loved hockey and counted his blessings and couldn't begin to imagine how it would feel to be 39 and have two sons with whom to play and share the game. I know the Penguins are still one game away. And I know that anything can happen. But I also know that I haven't felt like this in sixteen years and, truth be told, have never really felt like this at all.
One game away is, right now, more than close enough for me. If only because, when you really think about them, those magical nights and possible mornings, those almost-theres and especially those off-day afternoons, are the best and most exciting times of your life, suspended between the delicate joys of all that you've already done and the delicious anticipations of all the wonders that await you.
Posted at 02:49 PM
Tue - May 13, 2008
WHINE & (PHILLY CREAM) CHEESE
on the cutting boards.
i•ro•ny
n. a technique of indicating an intention or attitude opposite to that which is actually expected
As when your team, long renowned for late hits and cheap shots and just generally turning hockey into something like rugby on skates, starts getting hit and shot and rugbied in return, and all you, fans of bullies now finding out what it's like to be bullied, can do is whine and complain and beg the refs, whom you've always declared must ignore such shenanigans and just let the players play, to please do something, anything to protect our your poor little boys from getting what they have been giving, and what they have so surely been deserving, for a very, very long time.
(Let's Go, Pens.)
n. a technique of indicating an intention or attitude opposite to that which is actually expected
As when your team, long renowned for late hits and cheap shots and just generally turning hockey into something like rugby on skates, starts getting hit and shot and rugbied in return, and all you, fans of bullies now finding out what it's like to be bullied, can do is whine and complain and beg the refs, whom you've always declared must ignore such shenanigans and just let the players play, to please do something, anything to protect our your poor little boys from getting what they have been giving, and what they have so surely been deserving, for a very, very long time.
(Let's Go, Pens.)
Posted at 01:38 PM
Mon - May 12, 2008
AN OFF-DAY QUESTION
for the phools in philly.
If, as you are so fond of claiming on your
ignorance- and homophobia-driven message
boards, there’s a league-driven conspiracy askate to deliver the
Crosby-and-Malkin-fueled Penguins to the Stanley Cup Finals over your
far-more-deserving Broad Street Flying Elbow Brigade, then, even after ignoring
the utter lack of penalty calls in the first game and the fact that your
team’s stated goal of being far more physical in Game 2 was sure to result
in far more penalties called against you, why didn’t the league officials
in Toronto just go ahead and award the Penguins a goal in the first period last
night, when, as your city’s best sports columnist notes,
the puck had obviously crossed the line before Biron brought it
back?
(Note to readers with IQs higher than Scott Hartnell’s number — and, yes, I know that rules out Scott Hartnell: I’m well aware that the fans for whom this question is intended won't be able to answer it. Just as I'm aware that, thanks to the elliptical syntax, they won’t even be able to understand it.)
(Note to readers with IQs higher than Scott Hartnell’s number — and, yes, I know that rules out Scott Hartnell: I’m well aware that the fans for whom this question is intended won't be able to answer it. Just as I'm aware that, thanks to the elliptical syntax, they won’t even be able to understand it.)
Posted at 11:46 AM
Sun - May 11, 2008
WHITLESS WONDERS
or, how lots of penguins fans are idiots
too.
On Thursday, I went to pains far greater than
necessary to point out that, besides being possessed with
a couple of skilled players and a whole lot of knuckle-draggers, the
Philadelphia Flyers are also possessed of a loyal but often idiotic fan base.
It is one thing, after all, to think your team has a chance to win in this
series, quite another to pretend that Sami Kapanen could play alongside Evgeni
Malkin without suffering irreparable nerve damage. Today, in the interests of
fairness, and because I'm sick and tired of hearing these morons yapping at
Mellon Arena and on sports talk shows, I'll face a few simple pains and point
out, as I've pointed out plenty of times before, that Penguin Nation has its own great
Confederacy of Dunces, and that many of them reside in the sorry states of
ignorance and denial about one Penguin in
particular.
If you want the surest test of how much a fan or a bandwagon-jumper or any other semi-sentient being in Western Pennsylvania knows about hockey in general or the Penguins in particular, ask them what they think of Ryan Whitney. If he tells you that Whitney is a future Norris Trophy candidate, and/or that he had a season characterized by both frustrating lapses of focus and astonishing flashes of brilliance, and/or that he's having a strong playoff run after what he would be the first to describe as a subpar year, then you know you're talking to someone who understands the team and the game and has enough knowledge of both to speak thoughtfully and intelligently and those and many other subjects. But if he tells you that Whitney sucks, and/or that he should be benched, and/or that he's the source not only of the all Penguins' problems but also global warming, the rising cost of oil, and the presence of Al Qaeda in the world, then you'll know that you're sitting in Section C12. Or D26. Or most other sections of a Mellon Arena these days filled to capacity with people who can not tell a bad pinch from a brilliant breakout pass, stupid headhunting from sound positional defense, or Luke Ravenstahl from someone actually qualified to be mayor.
If you encounter people like this, you should, for the sake of your own patience and sanity, simply smile and back away. Shield your children if you have any. And hope the next person you meet will have not just opposable thumbs but also sense and reason and an actual understanding of the sport and the team for which they claim to root. (In other words, hope you find a real Penguins' fan and not just a lazy, loudmouthed Steelers' fan with nothing better to do until July. But I digress...)
A few simple stats, and a few simple moments from Friday night's game, are all I need to prove my point. (Though, to anyone with a real knowledge of the game who's actually been paying attention, the point has already proven itself. But I digress again...)
Right now, ten games into their Stanley Cup Playoff run, two players are tied for the Penguins' lead in +/- rating: Evgeni Malkin and Ryan Whitney. In other words: the two Penguins players who've produced the team's two highest scoring differentials, are the guy everyone (I included) is touting as the best player in the postseason so far, and the guy all the dull-eyed, empty-faced, half-witted morons in the stands and on the phones either want to bench or run out of town on a rail. Which means, of course, that Whitney's +/- rating is higher than any other defenseman -- including recent fan favorite Brooks Orpik, who's been laying out some great hits -- those shots on R.J. Umberger and Scott Hartnell on Friday were top-drawer highlight reel checks -- but whose postseason +/- rating is just Even.
Right now, ten games into their Stanley Cup playoff run, Whitney is second among defenseman in scoring. He has five points (all assists) to Sergei Gonchar's six (one goal, five assists). This despite playing about six-and-a-half fewer minutes per game than Gonchar, and despite being removed from the top power play unit, on which Gonchar still plays, in favor of a fourth insanely skilled forward. Whitney is also second among Penguins' defensemen in Shots on Goal (behind Gonchar) and third in Average Ice Time (only 4 seconds fewer per game than Orpik).
So you can see, of course, why the Neanderthal set wants to see him benched.
Friday night's game, in which Whitney was a +2, had an amazing first assist (more on that later) on Evgeni Malkin's game-winning goal, and logged more ice time (21:48) than any Penguin not named Sergei Gonchar (22:44), is the best example yet of how well Whitney has played and how little the beer-and-more-beer morons have noticed. To Whit:
Yes, Whitney took a careless Delay of Game penalty early in the first period, when he attempted a clear off the glass and flipped the puck into the crowd instead; he seemed a bit too cautious, and he should have chipped the puck off the boards or the glass earlier to get it out. But he missed by inches at worst, and that's the kind of penalty that every defenseman takes throughout the course of the season. And, yes, he took a tripping penalty in the third, but that one was a joke: a clear, oh-I've-been-shot flop of a dive by Scottie Upshall that sold a penalty Whitney hadn't actually committed. And, sure, there were one or two times when he tried to clear the puck but didn't quite get it out of the zone, but if we benched everyone who did that during a game, there'd be no one left to play but the crazies in the stands. Most of whom, I imagine, couldn't clear the puck if you gave 'em a shovel and a pickup truck with which to do it.
Now.
Let's talk about how Malkin's first goal -- the one that came with 6.5 seconds left in the period, that proved to be the game winner, and that everyone's talking about as the turning point of Game 1 -- never would have happened if not for the amazing, tape-to-tape, blue-line-to-blue-line, threaded-through-three-Philly-skaters, diagonal breakout pass that put Malkin into the zone with under ten seconds left. If Whitney's not skating head-up ready to make a play, if he doesn't spot both Malkin and the crease through which to pass to him, and if he doesn't sizzle that puck all the way through the neutral zone right to Malkin's blade, Malkin doesn't break in to the zone untouched, and he doesn't have a clear lane to wrist a shot past Biron. That was a beautiful shot. And it was only possible thank to a beautiful Whitney pass -- the kind that, with all apologies to the fantastic abilities of Sergei Gonchar and Kris Letang, no one on the Penguins' roster can make any better.
We could also talk about the other half-dozen or so beautiful breakout passes -- including the one in the first period, when Malkin's line ripped and roared and cycled for what seemed like a week-and-a-half in the offensive zone -- that sprung an offensive rush or sparked some sustained pressure. Or we could talk about the number of times Friday, just as he has all postseason and all season, that Whitney got the puck to a forward in stride in the neutral zone and allowed him to take off and back off the Flyers in the neutral zone. Or we could talk about the great positional defense he played many times throughout the game, keeping Flyers to the outside of the offensive zone and not allowing them to get a shot off.
In fact, let's talk about one of those situations -- one that true fans of the team and the game recognized, but that all the drooling yahoos completely missed.
In the third period, Mike Knuble got a breakout pass and was headed down the right wing. He had only Whitney to beat. As usual, the Cro-Magnons in the crowd called for Whitney to step up! and hit him! Much to their consternation and my joy, Whitney did not. If he had, and missed, Knuble would have had a breakaway, or a two-on-one at best. But the way Whitney played him, Knuble dumped and chased. Because he had a head of steam and was already moving forward, Knuble closed ground on Whitney. Because Whitney had to turn and get to speed, Knuble beat him to the puck. What does Whitney do? Exactly what he needs to do -- assuming, of course, that he's playing good D and sticking to the system and not trying to please the unibrow set in the crowd: he angles Knuble away from the net, keeps him outside, and forces him up the boards, then ties him up against the glass until help arrives to support and retrieve the puck. He kept Knuble -- a big, strong guy with a heavy shot who likes to drive the net -- on the outside, never let him get even a whiff of a scoring chance, and handled that one-on-one situation about as well as you possibly can.
In the midst of that sequence, about the time Whitney had driven Knuble back to the boards, a couple of idiots behind me actually yelled out that Whitney was blowing another play, and that he never should have let Knuble get the puck, and that he should have smashed him into the boards (which would have almost surely drawn a penalty, since Knuble had his back to Whitney the whole time). They were not satisfied with outstanding defense -- no doubt because they wouldn't recognize it even if it bit them on their ignorant asses -- and instead wanted either a big hit, a magic trick, or a repudiation of the laws of physics.
It would take all three, apparently, for the talk-radio dipstick set to be satisfied with Ryan Whitney's play in this postseason. Those of us with IQs -- both regular and hockey -- in the triple digits are plenty satisfied with his performance. Because we know what we see. And because we actually understand it when we see it.
(Oh -- and one more thing:)
(Let's Go, Pens.)
UPDATE, 10:58pm: After tonight's game, Whitney sits alone atop the team's +/- rating at +7. (Hossa, Scuderi, Malkin, and Malone are tied for second at +5.)
If you want the surest test of how much a fan or a bandwagon-jumper or any other semi-sentient being in Western Pennsylvania knows about hockey in general or the Penguins in particular, ask them what they think of Ryan Whitney. If he tells you that Whitney is a future Norris Trophy candidate, and/or that he had a season characterized by both frustrating lapses of focus and astonishing flashes of brilliance, and/or that he's having a strong playoff run after what he would be the first to describe as a subpar year, then you know you're talking to someone who understands the team and the game and has enough knowledge of both to speak thoughtfully and intelligently and those and many other subjects. But if he tells you that Whitney sucks, and/or that he should be benched, and/or that he's the source not only of the all Penguins' problems but also global warming, the rising cost of oil, and the presence of Al Qaeda in the world, then you'll know that you're sitting in Section C12. Or D26. Or most other sections of a Mellon Arena these days filled to capacity with people who can not tell a bad pinch from a brilliant breakout pass, stupid headhunting from sound positional defense, or Luke Ravenstahl from someone actually qualified to be mayor.
If you encounter people like this, you should, for the sake of your own patience and sanity, simply smile and back away. Shield your children if you have any. And hope the next person you meet will have not just opposable thumbs but also sense and reason and an actual understanding of the sport and the team for which they claim to root. (In other words, hope you find a real Penguins' fan and not just a lazy, loudmouthed Steelers' fan with nothing better to do until July. But I digress...)
A few simple stats, and a few simple moments from Friday night's game, are all I need to prove my point. (Though, to anyone with a real knowledge of the game who's actually been paying attention, the point has already proven itself. But I digress again...)
Right now, ten games into their Stanley Cup Playoff run, two players are tied for the Penguins' lead in +/- rating: Evgeni Malkin and Ryan Whitney. In other words: the two Penguins players who've produced the team's two highest scoring differentials, are the guy everyone (I included) is touting as the best player in the postseason so far, and the guy all the dull-eyed, empty-faced, half-witted morons in the stands and on the phones either want to bench or run out of town on a rail. Which means, of course, that Whitney's +/- rating is higher than any other defenseman -- including recent fan favorite Brooks Orpik, who's been laying out some great hits -- those shots on R.J. Umberger and Scott Hartnell on Friday were top-drawer highlight reel checks -- but whose postseason +/- rating is just Even.
Right now, ten games into their Stanley Cup playoff run, Whitney is second among defenseman in scoring. He has five points (all assists) to Sergei Gonchar's six (one goal, five assists). This despite playing about six-and-a-half fewer minutes per game than Gonchar, and despite being removed from the top power play unit, on which Gonchar still plays, in favor of a fourth insanely skilled forward. Whitney is also second among Penguins' defensemen in Shots on Goal (behind Gonchar) and third in Average Ice Time (only 4 seconds fewer per game than Orpik).
So you can see, of course, why the Neanderthal set wants to see him benched.
Friday night's game, in which Whitney was a +2, had an amazing first assist (more on that later) on Evgeni Malkin's game-winning goal, and logged more ice time (21:48) than any Penguin not named Sergei Gonchar (22:44), is the best example yet of how well Whitney has played and how little the beer-and-more-beer morons have noticed. To Whit:
Yes, Whitney took a careless Delay of Game penalty early in the first period, when he attempted a clear off the glass and flipped the puck into the crowd instead; he seemed a bit too cautious, and he should have chipped the puck off the boards or the glass earlier to get it out. But he missed by inches at worst, and that's the kind of penalty that every defenseman takes throughout the course of the season. And, yes, he took a tripping penalty in the third, but that one was a joke: a clear, oh-I've-been-shot flop of a dive by Scottie Upshall that sold a penalty Whitney hadn't actually committed. And, sure, there were one or two times when he tried to clear the puck but didn't quite get it out of the zone, but if we benched everyone who did that during a game, there'd be no one left to play but the crazies in the stands. Most of whom, I imagine, couldn't clear the puck if you gave 'em a shovel and a pickup truck with which to do it.
Now.
Let's talk about how Malkin's first goal -- the one that came with 6.5 seconds left in the period, that proved to be the game winner, and that everyone's talking about as the turning point of Game 1 -- never would have happened if not for the amazing, tape-to-tape, blue-line-to-blue-line, threaded-through-three-Philly-skaters, diagonal breakout pass that put Malkin into the zone with under ten seconds left. If Whitney's not skating head-up ready to make a play, if he doesn't spot both Malkin and the crease through which to pass to him, and if he doesn't sizzle that puck all the way through the neutral zone right to Malkin's blade, Malkin doesn't break in to the zone untouched, and he doesn't have a clear lane to wrist a shot past Biron. That was a beautiful shot. And it was only possible thank to a beautiful Whitney pass -- the kind that, with all apologies to the fantastic abilities of Sergei Gonchar and Kris Letang, no one on the Penguins' roster can make any better.
We could also talk about the other half-dozen or so beautiful breakout passes -- including the one in the first period, when Malkin's line ripped and roared and cycled for what seemed like a week-and-a-half in the offensive zone -- that sprung an offensive rush or sparked some sustained pressure. Or we could talk about the number of times Friday, just as he has all postseason and all season, that Whitney got the puck to a forward in stride in the neutral zone and allowed him to take off and back off the Flyers in the neutral zone. Or we could talk about the great positional defense he played many times throughout the game, keeping Flyers to the outside of the offensive zone and not allowing them to get a shot off.
In fact, let's talk about one of those situations -- one that true fans of the team and the game recognized, but that all the drooling yahoos completely missed.
In the third period, Mike Knuble got a breakout pass and was headed down the right wing. He had only Whitney to beat. As usual, the Cro-Magnons in the crowd called for Whitney to step up! and hit him! Much to their consternation and my joy, Whitney did not. If he had, and missed, Knuble would have had a breakaway, or a two-on-one at best. But the way Whitney played him, Knuble dumped and chased. Because he had a head of steam and was already moving forward, Knuble closed ground on Whitney. Because Whitney had to turn and get to speed, Knuble beat him to the puck. What does Whitney do? Exactly what he needs to do -- assuming, of course, that he's playing good D and sticking to the system and not trying to please the unibrow set in the crowd: he angles Knuble away from the net, keeps him outside, and forces him up the boards, then ties him up against the glass until help arrives to support and retrieve the puck. He kept Knuble -- a big, strong guy with a heavy shot who likes to drive the net -- on the outside, never let him get even a whiff of a scoring chance, and handled that one-on-one situation about as well as you possibly can.
In the midst of that sequence, about the time Whitney had driven Knuble back to the boards, a couple of idiots behind me actually yelled out that Whitney was blowing another play, and that he never should have let Knuble get the puck, and that he should have smashed him into the boards (which would have almost surely drawn a penalty, since Knuble had his back to Whitney the whole time). They were not satisfied with outstanding defense -- no doubt because they wouldn't recognize it even if it bit them on their ignorant asses -- and instead wanted either a big hit, a magic trick, or a repudiation of the laws of physics.
It would take all three, apparently, for the talk-radio dipstick set to be satisfied with Ryan Whitney's play in this postseason. Those of us with IQs -- both regular and hockey -- in the triple digits are plenty satisfied with his performance. Because we know what we see. And because we actually understand it when we see it.
(Oh -- and one more thing:)
(Let's Go, Pens.)
UPDATE, 10:58pm: After tonight's game, Whitney sits alone atop the team's +/- rating at +7. (Hossa, Scuderi, Malkin, and Malone are tied for second at +5.)
Posted at 02:50 PM
Sat - May 10, 2008
66
plus 5.
I said it four weeks ago today, after Game 2 of the
Ottawa Senators series, and, after watching his mind-blowing, bone-rattling
performance in Game 1 of the Eastern Conference Finals last night, I'll say it
again:
The combination of strength and speed and skill and sheer, indomitable will, the explosive impact he's had all over the ice, the way he's elevated his already stratospheric game to dizzying new heights, the fact that he makes something -- usually, many things -- happen on every single shift, the realization that from the time he goes over the boards until the moment he steps back on the bench you simply can not (and should not) take your eyes off him, all add up to a simple and glorious conclusion: that there is only one word in the language, much less in the NHL vernacular, sufficient to describe his performance:
Marioesque.
Sidney Crosby and Marian Hossa were outstanding last night. Ryan Malone was a force at both ends of the ice and a workhorse on the penalty kill. Jordan Staal, Jarko Ruutu, and Tyler Kennedy continue to shine on that swooping, rocking, and rolling third line. Marc-Andre Fleury was fantastic yet again. Peter Sykora had maybe the prettiest move and goal of the night.
But Malkin. My God.
I'll have much more to say about him as this series rolls on. But for now, let's just stick with the simple fact that something else I wrote four weeks ago today has, in the intervening eight games, proven happily prophetic:
There is now a second word in the language, the vernacular of the NHL, and the playoff lore of this franchise to describe his performance:
Malkinesque.
It has a nice ring, doesn't it? And if it keeps on going, it's gonna have another.
The combination of strength and speed and skill and sheer, indomitable will, the explosive impact he's had all over the ice, the way he's elevated his already stratospheric game to dizzying new heights, the fact that he makes something -- usually, many things -- happen on every single shift, the realization that from the time he goes over the boards until the moment he steps back on the bench you simply can not (and should not) take your eyes off him, all add up to a simple and glorious conclusion: that there is only one word in the language, much less in the NHL vernacular, sufficient to describe his performance:
Marioesque.
Sidney Crosby and Marian Hossa were outstanding last night. Ryan Malone was a force at both ends of the ice and a workhorse on the penalty kill. Jordan Staal, Jarko Ruutu, and Tyler Kennedy continue to shine on that swooping, rocking, and rolling third line. Marc-Andre Fleury was fantastic yet again. Peter Sykora had maybe the prettiest move and goal of the night.
But Malkin. My God.
I'll have much more to say about him as this series rolls on. But for now, let's just stick with the simple fact that something else I wrote four weeks ago today has, in the intervening eight games, proven happily prophetic:
There is now a second word in the language, the vernacular of the NHL, and the playoff lore of this franchise to describe his performance:
Malkinesque.
It has a nice ring, doesn't it? And if it keeps on going, it's gonna have another.
Posted at 10:09 AM
Thu - May 8, 2008
IDIOT HOCKEY POST OF THE WEEK
and the month. and the season. and quite
possibly the decade.
So a friend and former student of mine just
referred me to this Facebook Smack Talk Wall devoted to the
upcoming Penguins-Flyers series. He thought I'd enjoy the silliness on both
sides, but most especially the raging, rampant idiocy of a post made by Tom of
Philadelphia at 7:39 this morning:
No way these Flyers gonna lose to the Pens never happened. Never will. Sorry to burst your bubble, but Hossa won't be worth it if you go down to us now. Any team that plays Kapanen on the fourth line is very deep. On, your team, he'd be on lines 2 or 3.
Because I'm feeling uncharacteristically charitable, we'll ignore the suspect syntax, the inelegant diction, and even the sub-grade-school punctuation, and get right to the heart of poor Tom's idiocy: his contention that Flyers fourth-liner Sami Kapanen would be a second- or third-liner on the Penguins.
Now. Anyone who knows anything -- and I do mean anything -- about these two teams knows, prima facie, a priori, and ad infinitum, as surely as he (or she) know his (or her) own name, that this is a flaming pile of horse manure, and that to question the logic of it is to imply, quite foolishly indeed, that even the faintest hint of logic went in to the patently absurd making of it. The statement, devoid of all sense and reason, is its own best refutation.
But, since I'm a stickler for argument and evidence, and because you know it's gonna be a whole lot of fun, let's follow through with it anyway.
Here's Sami Kapanen's 2007-2008 stat line: 5 goals, 3 assists, with a plus/minus rating of -12, averaging 13:19 of ice time per game. Not exactly scintillating numbers. But, hey, I'm sure Tom's seeming lunacy must have some basis in fact. So let's compare those numbers to the numbers of the Pens' second- and third-liners.
(We have a bit of a problem picking a 2nd line, however, because once everyone got healthy, the Marian Hossa trade created what are essentially two first lines; on any given night, either the Crosby line or the Malkin line could be considered the #1 unit. Which means, of course, that either unit could also be considered the second line. So, in fairness to Tom, let's just compare Kapanen's stats to the stats of all six of the Pens' possible second-liners:)
KAPANEN: 8 in 74. -12
CROSBY: 72 in 53. +18
HOSSA: 66 in 72. Even
DuPUIS: 27 in 78. +4
MALKIN: 106 in 82. +16
MALONE: 51 in 77. +14
SYKORA: 63 in 81. +1
That's right, kids: Kapanen's numbers pale (19 fewer points, 16 lower +/- ) in comparison even to those of Pascal DuPuis, who spent much of his season on the third line for the Atlanta Thrashers and only recently joined a top-two line after coming to the Pens in the Hossa deal. And Kapanen has 43 fewer points (and 26 lower in +/-) than Ryan Malone, the lowest scorer on Evgeni Malkin's line. So it looks like Tom's contention that Kapanen could play on the Pens' second line is just as much a festering pile of cow chips as we all already knew it was.
But, once again, in fairness to Tom, he did say lines 2 or 3. So let's give him the benefit of a doubt we already know he does not deserve, and, just for kicks, compare Sami Kapanen's stats to the stats of the Pens' third-liners. For the sake of some context, and because we're at least getting a little closer to reality, we'll also throw in ice time figures:
KAPANEN: 8 in 74. -12. 13:19
STAAL 28 in 82. -5. 18:16
RUUTU 16 in 71. +3. 10:12
KENNEDY 19 in 55. +2. 12:13
That's right, kids: Kapanen averaged more ice time in more games than two of the Pens' third liners, and yet he still only managed half (or less-than-half) of their point totals. While also compiling a +/- rating some 14 (or 15) points lower. Which means that Tom's contention that Kapanen would surely be a third-liner for the Pens is the steaming pile of dog crap that we always knew it was.
But, hey, maybe Tom just got carried away with his pre-playoff exuberance. Maybe his passion for his home team just got him a little too fired up. Or maybe he hit the wrong numbers (and letters) on his keyboard, and actually meant to write that Kapanen is just as accomplished as the Pens' own fourth-liners. So, just for shits and giggles, let's take a look at those numbers too:
KAPANEN: 8 in 74. -12. 13:19
TALBOT 26 in 63. +8. 15:28
ROBERTS 15 in 38. -3. 13:20
LARAQUE 13 in 71. Even. 7:42
That's right, kids: all the Pens' fourth liners have better numbers than Kapanen too. Even the Pens' most lightly used fourth-liner -- tough-guy enforcer Georges Laraque, he of the hands- and skates-of-stone -- has scored five more points than Kapanen, while playing playing in three fewer games and averaging almost six fewer minutes of ice time per game. Which means that Tom's contention, even if we adjust for exuberance and insanity, is just as much of a stinking puddle of cat pee as we always knew it to be.
Now. None of this means, of course, that the Flyers can't win. (They certainly could.) Or that the Flyers aren't deep. (They certainly are.) Or that Sami Kapanen is not a fine and perfectly serviceable fourth-liner for a team in the Eastern Conference Finals. (He is.) But it does mean that -- surprise, surprise -- Facebook Tom from Philadelphia has no idea what he's talking about. That the Penguins are even deeper than the Flyers. And that, if Sami Kapanen were indeed a Penguin, he wouldn't be able to crack the lineup at all.
I've already made that case quite clearly, but in case you need any more evidence, here it is:
KAPANEN: 8 in 74. -12. 13:19
JEFF TAAFE: 12 in 45. +2. 9:35
Taafe, a solid two-way contributor whose numbers are considerably better than Kapanen's even before you adjust for ice time and games played, has yet to appear in a Pens' playoff game.
No way these Flyers gonna lose to the Pens never happened. Never will. Sorry to burst your bubble, but Hossa won't be worth it if you go down to us now. Any team that plays Kapanen on the fourth line is very deep. On, your team, he'd be on lines 2 or 3.
Because I'm feeling uncharacteristically charitable, we'll ignore the suspect syntax, the inelegant diction, and even the sub-grade-school punctuation, and get right to the heart of poor Tom's idiocy: his contention that Flyers fourth-liner Sami Kapanen would be a second- or third-liner on the Penguins.
Now. Anyone who knows anything -- and I do mean anything -- about these two teams knows, prima facie, a priori, and ad infinitum, as surely as he (or she) know his (or her) own name, that this is a flaming pile of horse manure, and that to question the logic of it is to imply, quite foolishly indeed, that even the faintest hint of logic went in to the patently absurd making of it. The statement, devoid of all sense and reason, is its own best refutation.
But, since I'm a stickler for argument and evidence, and because you know it's gonna be a whole lot of fun, let's follow through with it anyway.
Here's Sami Kapanen's 2007-2008 stat line: 5 goals, 3 assists, with a plus/minus rating of -12, averaging 13:19 of ice time per game. Not exactly scintillating numbers. But, hey, I'm sure Tom's seeming lunacy must have some basis in fact. So let's compare those numbers to the numbers of the Pens' second- and third-liners.
(We have a bit of a problem picking a 2nd line, however, because once everyone got healthy, the Marian Hossa trade created what are essentially two first lines; on any given night, either the Crosby line or the Malkin line could be considered the #1 unit. Which means, of course, that either unit could also be considered the second line. So, in fairness to Tom, let's just compare Kapanen's stats to the stats of all six of the Pens' possible second-liners:)
KAPANEN: 8 in 74. -12
CROSBY: 72 in 53. +18
HOSSA: 66 in 72. Even
DuPUIS: 27 in 78. +4
MALKIN: 106 in 82. +16
MALONE: 51 in 77. +14
SYKORA: 63 in 81. +1
That's right, kids: Kapanen's numbers pale (19 fewer points, 16 lower +/- ) in comparison even to those of Pascal DuPuis, who spent much of his season on the third line for the Atlanta Thrashers and only recently joined a top-two line after coming to the Pens in the Hossa deal. And Kapanen has 43 fewer points (and 26 lower in +/-) than Ryan Malone, the lowest scorer on Evgeni Malkin's line. So it looks like Tom's contention that Kapanen could play on the Pens' second line is just as much a festering pile of cow chips as we all already knew it was.
But, once again, in fairness to Tom, he did say lines 2 or 3. So let's give him the benefit of a doubt we already know he does not deserve, and, just for kicks, compare Sami Kapanen's stats to the stats of the Pens' third-liners. For the sake of some context, and because we're at least getting a little closer to reality, we'll also throw in ice time figures:
KAPANEN: 8 in 74. -12. 13:19
STAAL 28 in 82. -5. 18:16
RUUTU 16 in 71. +3. 10:12
KENNEDY 19 in 55. +2. 12:13
That's right, kids: Kapanen averaged more ice time in more games than two of the Pens' third liners, and yet he still only managed half (or less-than-half) of their point totals. While also compiling a +/- rating some 14 (or 15) points lower. Which means that Tom's contention that Kapanen would surely be a third-liner for the Pens is the steaming pile of dog crap that we always knew it was.
But, hey, maybe Tom just got carried away with his pre-playoff exuberance. Maybe his passion for his home team just got him a little too fired up. Or maybe he hit the wrong numbers (and letters) on his keyboard, and actually meant to write that Kapanen is just as accomplished as the Pens' own fourth-liners. So, just for shits and giggles, let's take a look at those numbers too:
KAPANEN: 8 in 74. -12. 13:19
TALBOT 26 in 63. +8. 15:28
ROBERTS 15 in 38. -3. 13:20
LARAQUE 13 in 71. Even. 7:42
That's right, kids: all the Pens' fourth liners have better numbers than Kapanen too. Even the Pens' most lightly used fourth-liner -- tough-guy enforcer Georges Laraque, he of the hands- and skates-of-stone -- has scored five more points than Kapanen, while playing playing in three fewer games and averaging almost six fewer minutes of ice time per game. Which means that Tom's contention, even if we adjust for exuberance and insanity, is just as much of a stinking puddle of cat pee as we always knew it to be.
Now. None of this means, of course, that the Flyers can't win. (They certainly could.) Or that the Flyers aren't deep. (They certainly are.) Or that Sami Kapanen is not a fine and perfectly serviceable fourth-liner for a team in the Eastern Conference Finals. (He is.) But it does mean that -- surprise, surprise -- Facebook Tom from Philadelphia has no idea what he's talking about. That the Penguins are even deeper than the Flyers. And that, if Sami Kapanen were indeed a Penguin, he wouldn't be able to crack the lineup at all.
I've already made that case quite clearly, but in case you need any more evidence, here it is:
KAPANEN: 8 in 74. -12. 13:19
JEFF TAAFE: 12 in 45. +2. 9:35
Taafe, a solid two-way contributor whose numbers are considerably better than Kapanen's even before you adjust for ice time and games played, has yet to appear in a Pens' playoff game.
Posted at 09:59 AM
Sun - May 4, 2008
HALFWAY THERE
eight down, eight to go.
Photo
Credit: Peter Diana, Pittsburgh
Post-Gazette.
(Let's Go, Pens.)
(Let's Go, Pens.)
Posted at 06:22 PM
COME HELL OR HYPERBOLE
here at the end of (undefeated)
days.
It is a testament to how jaded we've become, how
melodramatic we always are, or how ham-fisted Ron Cook and his Post-Gazette
sports editors can be -- I'm casting a third of a vote for each -- that a
single playoff loss after seven consecutive playoff wins can be called
adversity, or that a single subpar night and a couple of boneheaded
decisions after seven games of unmitigated brilliance can produce a
headline like Crosby, Malkin seek redemption
today.
I suppose if they lose today, the Pens will have endured a calamity, and Sid and Geno will need to seek the divine absolution that only Bishop Zubik, or a couple of Game 6 power play goals, can deliver.
To avoid that scenario, the inevitable infuriations of the newspaper columns to follow, and the idiotic ministrations both would demand of local sports talk radio -- let's just end the series today, shall we, boys?
(Let's Go, Pens.)
I suppose if they lose today, the Pens will have endured a calamity, and Sid and Geno will need to seek the divine absolution that only Bishop Zubik, or a couple of Game 6 power play goals, can deliver.
To avoid that scenario, the inevitable infuriations of the newspaper columns to follow, and the idiotic ministrations both would demand of local sports talk radio -- let's just end the series today, shall we, boys?
(Let's Go, Pens.)
Posted at 10:21 AM
Thu - May 1, 2008
IT'S NOT THAT I'M PATHETICALLY, HYSTERICALLY MEGA-SUPER-SUPERSTITIOUS
it's that i'm uncontrollably, pathetically,
hysterically mega-super-superstitious.
And once we've hit lucky seven(-and-oh), you do
not, under any circumstances, or even under threat of great duress, think about
thinking about the slightest chance of the unlikeliest possibility of ever
messing with that success. So:
LET'S GO, PENS!
LET'S GO, PENS!
Posted at 02:13 PM
Tue - April 29, 2008
IT'S NOT THAT I'M HYSTERICALLY MEGA-SUPER-SUPERSTITIOUS
it's that i'm pathetically hysterically
mega-super-superstitiious.
And after six times the charm, you do not, under
any circumstances, even think about considering, much less entertaining, even
the most remote or distant possibilities of messing with success.
So:
LET'S GO, PENS!
LET'S GO, PENS!
Posted at 02:43 PM
MVP
finalist.
The Professional Hockey Writers' Association may
have blown the Norris Trophy Finalists -- Zdeno Chara? over Sergei Gonchar?
really? -- but bless their pointed little pens, they got the Hart Trophy
Finalists absolutely right: Jarome Iginla, Alex Ovechkin,
and...
...our little Geno. Who almost certainly will not win. But who would most surely deserve it.
...our little Geno. Who almost certainly will not win. But who would most surely deserve it.
Posted at 12:38 PM
Sun - April 27, 2008
IT'S NOT THAT I'M MEGA-SUPER-SUPERSTITIOUS
it's that i'm hysterically
mega-super-superstitious.
When you've done this five times, and they've won
all five games, you really, really, really, really, really -- really -- don't
mess with success. So:
LET'S GO, PENS!
LET'S GO, PENS!
Posted at 08:43 AM
Thu - April 17, 2008
Wed - April 16, 2008
IT'S NOT THAT I'M SUPER-SUPERSTITIOUS
it's that i'm
mega-super-superstitious.
When they're leading the series 3-0, you don't mess
with success. So:
LET'S GO, PENS!
LET'S GO, PENS!
Posted at 04:58 PM
Tue - April 15, 2008
GET THE NET
for everyone who doesn't get the
netminders.
I have often -- in fact, as recently as yesterday -- praised and rooted for my beloved
Pittsburgh Penguins while also chastising a large and unfortunately loud segment
of their (ahem) fan base: the people who shout Shoot! any time a player
touches a puck in the offensive zone, even if he has no lane or angle to shoot;
the people who confuse open-ice checks with sound positional defense and so
shout Step up! or Hit him! in situations when a miss, or anything
less than full contact, will spring an odd-man rush or even a breakaway the
other way; the people who call up the Mark Madden show and suggest line
combinations that would still suck, even if they weren't plugging multiple
forwards into positions they've never played; the people who argued, and who are
apparently still arguing -- against all reason, common sense, and even the most
rudimentary understanding of this team and its talents -- that Ty Conklin should
be getting some sort of chance to play in
goal.
These people, for lack of a better, more delicate term, are fucking idiots.
They could be forgiven, or at least more easily laughed off, when Marc-Andre Fleury was rehabbing his ankle and Ty Conklin, bless his season-saving soul, was playing like the second coming of Patrick Roy. Or at least of Johan Hedberg. Conklin was hot, Fleury was still injured, and the Pens were playing great. Of course, you never heard anyone suggest that, since the team was playing so well without Sidney Crosby, they may as well scratch him for a while when got healthy -- you know, because Jeff Taffe had been playing so well. But I digress.
Conklin, a career back-up on the ride of his life, was not, would not, and could not ever be a suitable replacement for Marc-Andre Fleury, a number-one overall draft pick who had an amazing season last year, had been playing great right before his injury, and was showing signs of maturing and (forgive me) blossoming into the franchise goalie everyone with eyes and a brain and fleeting familiarity with the game knew that he could be. But, hey, you go with the hot hand, and you ride the wave, and you gotta keep playing Ty because Fleury's never proven himself, and yadda freaking yadda. It was stupid. It was short-sighted. But at least it was, in some put-an-amoeba's-brain-under-a-microscope way, understandable.
(And, yes, I'm fully aware that amoebas do not have brains. That was my point. Now...)
But the fact that, in some dark and demented corners of the Penguins' so-called fandom, some rotting, festering remnant of this idea still exists, that it still lurches, zombie-like, in the decaying crania of people who somehow manage to manipulate a remote control and turn to Fox Sports Net, is enough to make what's left of my distending cranium explode. It was not enough, perhaps, for Fleury to return from injury and go 10-2-1 in a stretch of unparalleled excellence that, as his coach rightly notes, made him the best goaltender in the entire league over that span. It was not enough, apparently, for his Save Percentage to be fourth-best in the league (higher than that of Martin Brodeur, Henrik Lundquist, Roberto Luongo, and Evgeni Nabokov, just to name a few), nor for his Goals Against Average to be tenth-best in the league (dropping like a stone after the injury, a period when it was the best in the league), nor even for him to have pitched a shutout in Game 1 of the Senators series and then to have played well in Game 2, giving up only three hard-fought, hard-earned, semi-flukey-bounce goals.
Oh, no. None of that was enough for the nincompoops who still thought that Marc-Andre Fleury, the best goaltender in the league the last month-and-a-half, the best goaltender in the league through the first two games of the Stanley Cup playoffs, should make way for a (much-beloved, but still nothing more than) journeyman goaltender whose play, after that hot streak, had cooled almost enough to keep milk fresh.
Am I exaggerating? Am I whipping up a Straw-and-Twine-Man to rail against in this post? Not if you take a look at today's Post-Gazette Sound Off sports poll, the voting for which ended yesterday: when asked if the Penguins should give goaltender Ty Conklin one start in the series against Ottawa, a staggering 34% of respondents said yes. Since I saw no disclaimer on the question yesterday, nor on the results today, that the PG would be polling only on the wards at Western Psych, it's safe to assume that a hell of a lot of people who follow hockey and read the Post-Gazette have no idea what they hell they're thinking or talking about. Or else remember a time, long before I started following hockey, when teams thought it wise to sit the hottest goaltender in the league and give his back-up a crack at a best-of-seven playoff game.
Even last night, after Fleury had withstood a tremendous Senators' assault in the first ten minutes of the game, after he'd given up only a single goal on a sudden breakaway in the offensive zone, after he'd become the only goaltender in the playoffs to win his first three games, lowered his (second-place-in-the-league) playoff Goals Against Average to a fabulous 1.34, and raised his (starting goalie, league-leading) playoff Save Percentage to a phenomenal .956, some moron still phoned into the Subway Nightly Sports Call and told Bob Pompeani, who gets extra points for not laughing 'til he puked, that the Penguins should start Ty Conklin in goal for Game 4 so they can get him some work, because you know they're gonna need him sometime down the line.
If I'd been holding the remote control in my hand, I might have thrown it through the screen. And I suspect that people all over the East End were trying, around 10:45 last night, to figure out what angry, wounded animal emitted that strangled cry they heard pierce the stillness of the Shady Avenue night.
But I'm better now. Especially after writing this long, cathartic post. And so I'll leave you with but two simple requests:
The next time someone tells you that Pittsburgh is a great hockey town, tell 'em they're right. And then tell 'em that, in frighteningly large parts of it, it's also a stupid one.
These people, for lack of a better, more delicate term, are fucking idiots.
They could be forgiven, or at least more easily laughed off, when Marc-Andre Fleury was rehabbing his ankle and Ty Conklin, bless his season-saving soul, was playing like the second coming of Patrick Roy. Or at least of Johan Hedberg. Conklin was hot, Fleury was still injured, and the Pens were playing great. Of course, you never heard anyone suggest that, since the team was playing so well without Sidney Crosby, they may as well scratch him for a while when got healthy -- you know, because Jeff Taffe had been playing so well. But I digress.
Conklin, a career back-up on the ride of his life, was not, would not, and could not ever be a suitable replacement for Marc-Andre Fleury, a number-one overall draft pick who had an amazing season last year, had been playing great right before his injury, and was showing signs of maturing and (forgive me) blossoming into the franchise goalie everyone with eyes and a brain and fleeting familiarity with the game knew that he could be. But, hey, you go with the hot hand, and you ride the wave, and you gotta keep playing Ty because Fleury's never proven himself, and yadda freaking yadda. It was stupid. It was short-sighted. But at least it was, in some put-an-amoeba's-brain-under-a-microscope way, understandable.
(And, yes, I'm fully aware that amoebas do not have brains. That was my point. Now...)
But the fact that, in some dark and demented corners of the Penguins' so-called fandom, some rotting, festering remnant of this idea still exists, that it still lurches, zombie-like, in the decaying crania of people who somehow manage to manipulate a remote control and turn to Fox Sports Net, is enough to make what's left of my distending cranium explode. It was not enough, perhaps, for Fleury to return from injury and go 10-2-1 in a stretch of unparalleled excellence that, as his coach rightly notes, made him the best goaltender in the entire league over that span. It was not enough, apparently, for his Save Percentage to be fourth-best in the league (higher than that of Martin Brodeur, Henrik Lundquist, Roberto Luongo, and Evgeni Nabokov, just to name a few), nor for his Goals Against Average to be tenth-best in the league (dropping like a stone after the injury, a period when it was the best in the league), nor even for him to have pitched a shutout in Game 1 of the Senators series and then to have played well in Game 2, giving up only three hard-fought, hard-earned, semi-flukey-bounce goals.
Oh, no. None of that was enough for the nincompoops who still thought that Marc-Andre Fleury, the best goaltender in the league the last month-and-a-half, the best goaltender in the league through the first two games of the Stanley Cup playoffs, should make way for a (much-beloved, but still nothing more than) journeyman goaltender whose play, after that hot streak, had cooled almost enough to keep milk fresh.
Am I exaggerating? Am I whipping up a Straw-and-Twine-Man to rail against in this post? Not if you take a look at today's Post-Gazette Sound Off sports poll, the voting for which ended yesterday: when asked if the Penguins should give goaltender Ty Conklin one start in the series against Ottawa, a staggering 34% of respondents said yes. Since I saw no disclaimer on the question yesterday, nor on the results today, that the PG would be polling only on the wards at Western Psych, it's safe to assume that a hell of a lot of people who follow hockey and read the Post-Gazette have no idea what they hell they're thinking or talking about. Or else remember a time, long before I started following hockey, when teams thought it wise to sit the hottest goaltender in the league and give his back-up a crack at a best-of-seven playoff game.
Even last night, after Fleury had withstood a tremendous Senators' assault in the first ten minutes of the game, after he'd given up only a single goal on a sudden breakaway in the offensive zone, after he'd become the only goaltender in the playoffs to win his first three games, lowered his (second-place-in-the-league) playoff Goals Against Average to a fabulous 1.34, and raised his (starting goalie, league-leading) playoff Save Percentage to a phenomenal .956, some moron still phoned into the Subway Nightly Sports Call and told Bob Pompeani, who gets extra points for not laughing 'til he puked, that the Penguins should start Ty Conklin in goal for Game 4 so they can get him some work, because you know they're gonna need him sometime down the line.
If I'd been holding the remote control in my hand, I might have thrown it through the screen. And I suspect that people all over the East End were trying, around 10:45 last night, to figure out what angry, wounded animal emitted that strangled cry they heard pierce the stillness of the Shady Avenue night.
But I'm better now. Especially after writing this long, cathartic post. And so I'll leave you with but two simple requests:
The next time someone tells you that Pittsburgh is a great hockey town, tell 'em they're right. And then tell 'em that, in frighteningly large parts of it, it's also a stupid one.
Posted at 12:59 PM
Mon - April 14, 2008
IT'S NOT THAT I'M SUPERSTITIOUS
it's that i'm
super-superstitious.
Since I made this same invocation last Wednesday
and last Friday, and since it worked both days, I damned well need to make one
again right now, a few hours before an awfully big Game
Three:
LET'S GO, PENS!
[Oh, and just as a P.S. to the idiot "fan" who saw my Penguins t-shirt a few minutes ago and, with an admonishing look on his face, told me that they can't take any periods off tonight like they did in the second period on Friday: during that period, the Penguins scored two of the prettiest goals you will ever see, gave up two hard-fought goals to guys crashing the net, carried much of the play, launched twenty shots on net, and, were it not for the sensational play of the opposing goaltender, may well have scored on a half-dozen of them; if that's taking a period off, they can feel free to take another one off tonight, and at least several more off between now and the first week of June.]
LET'S GO, PENS!
[Oh, and just as a P.S. to the idiot "fan" who saw my Penguins t-shirt a few minutes ago and, with an admonishing look on his face, told me that they can't take any periods off tonight like they did in the second period on Friday: during that period, the Penguins scored two of the prettiest goals you will ever see, gave up two hard-fought goals to guys crashing the net, carried much of the play, launched twenty shots on net, and, were it not for the sensational play of the opposing goaltender, may well have scored on a half-dozen of them; if that's taking a period off, they can feel free to take another one off tonight, and at least several more off between now and the first week of June.]
Posted at 03:38 PM
Sat - April 12, 2008
71
minus 5.
It might have gotten lost in Gary Roberts' heroics
and Marc-Andre Fleury's excellence on Wednesday night. And it may have gotten
lost in Ryan Malone's heroics and Sidney Crosby's (and Peter Sykora's)
excellence last night. But let's make sure it doesn't get lost any more.
The best player in this (or any other first-round) series so far -- and it's not even close -- has been Evgeni Malkin.
The combination of strength and speed and skill and sheer, indomitable will, the explosive impact he's had all over the ice, the way he's elevated his already stratospheric game to dizzying new heights, the fact that he makes something -- usually, many things -- happen on every single shift, the realization that from the time he goes over the boards until the moment he steps back on the bench you simply can not (and should not) take your eyes off him, all add up to a simple and glorious conclusion: that there is only one word in the language, much less in the NHL vernacular, sufficient to describe his performance.
Marioesque.
If he keeps this up -- and dear Lord, we all hope he does -- there will be a second.
Malkinesque.
And, for the purposes of Stanley Cup playoff excellence and heroics, they will be virtually synonymous.
The best player in this (or any other first-round) series so far -- and it's not even close -- has been Evgeni Malkin.
The combination of strength and speed and skill and sheer, indomitable will, the explosive impact he's had all over the ice, the way he's elevated his already stratospheric game to dizzying new heights, the fact that he makes something -- usually, many things -- happen on every single shift, the realization that from the time he goes over the boards until the moment he steps back on the bench you simply can not (and should not) take your eyes off him, all add up to a simple and glorious conclusion: that there is only one word in the language, much less in the NHL vernacular, sufficient to describe his performance.
Marioesque.
If he keeps this up -- and dear Lord, we all hope he does -- there will be a second.
Malkinesque.
And, for the purposes of Stanley Cup playoff excellence and heroics, they will be virtually synonymous.
Posted at 09:41 AM
Wed - April 9, 2008
ONE CUP
one-track mind.
I'd wanted to write about what a pathetic excuse
for a motivator Brian Murray is. I'd wanted to write about what a pathetic,
neanderthal, embarrassment-to-hockey-and-to-humanity Don Brennan is. I'd wanted
to write about how Barack Obama's pandering to parents about the evils of video
games, or about how Carnegie Mellon University administrators are showing
typical, terrible arrogance with their naked, inarticulate lust for control of
S. Craig Street.
But when I'm not writing for work, I can, today at least, only seem to think about one thing. So let's just get that out of the way right now.
LET'S GO, PENS!
But when I'm not writing for work, I can, today at least, only seem to think about one thing. So let's just get that out of the way right now.
LET'S GO, PENS!
Posted at 01:10 PM
Sun - April 6, 2008
TEACHERS. WORDSMITHS. MADMEN. CHAMPIONS.
thanks, boys.
Here at the end of another fantastic National
Hockey League season, I want to take a moment before the Penguins begin their
pursuit of the Cup and thank the other franchise that gave me so much fun and
excitement these past six months: the TWM Team at CBS Sportsline, who this year
fought off some ferociously general-managed teams to win the lucrative -- and
always hotly contested -- Hanson Bros. Fantasy Hockey League
Championship.
Special thanks go to the core of my always dependable and insanely productive lineup: Joe Thornton, Henrik Zetterberg, Martin St. Louis, Mike Ribeiro, Anze Kopitar, Mark Streit, Dion Phaneuf, Dan Boyle, Evgeni Nabokov, and Roberto Luongo. Big stick taps also go to key role players who, despite season-ending injuries or late-season free-agent pick-ups, also contributed mightily to the cause: Shawn Horcoff, Peter Sykora, Ryan Malone, Wade Redden, and Johan Franzen.
Thanks, boys, for the entertainment, for the cash prizes, and especially for the bragging rights. See (some of) you next season...
Special thanks go to the core of my always dependable and insanely productive lineup: Joe Thornton, Henrik Zetterberg, Martin St. Louis, Mike Ribeiro, Anze Kopitar, Mark Streit, Dion Phaneuf, Dan Boyle, Evgeni Nabokov, and Roberto Luongo. Big stick taps also go to key role players who, despite season-ending injuries or late-season free-agent pick-ups, also contributed mightily to the cause: Shawn Horcoff, Peter Sykora, Ryan Malone, Wade Redden, and Johan Franzen.
Thanks, boys, for the entertainment, for the cash prizes, and especially for the bragging rights. See (some of) you next season...
Posted at 10:23 PM
Thu - April 3, 2008
THE FIRST CELEBRATION
ladies and gentleman, elvis has just won the
division.
Now to the best news of the day, the night, and the
season so
far...
...the first Division Championship in ten years. Which is, we hope, only the humble beginning of many celebrations to come.
Maybe it's just unbridled enthusiasm for this team I love. Maybe it's just the raucous, giddy joy of getting to this point after riding along and never giving up, not even on the darkest days of the journey, long before the bandwagon jumpers started paying attention again and scrambling back aboard. Or maybe it's just the fact that they're sitting in the #1 spot in an eminently winnable conference. But for the last few weeks, I've begun to get a really, really good feeling about this team.
To paraphrase what all the Pens were saying on the JumboTron last night: Thanks for a great season, boys. We'll see you in the playoffs.
...the first Division Championship in ten years. Which is, we hope, only the humble beginning of many celebrations to come.
Maybe it's just unbridled enthusiasm for this team I love. Maybe it's just the raucous, giddy joy of getting to this point after riding along and never giving up, not even on the darkest days of the journey, long before the bandwagon jumpers started paying attention again and scrambling back aboard. Or maybe it's just the fact that they're sitting in the #1 spot in an eminently winnable conference. But for the last few weeks, I've begun to get a really, really good feeling about this team.
To paraphrase what all the Pens were saying on the JumboTron last night: Thanks for a great season, boys. We'll see you in the playoffs.
Posted at 09:47 AM
Wed - February 27, 2008
LET'S TALK ABOUT THE TRADE
because everyone else is.
I can't believe how many people I've heard on
sports talk radio, or last night on the Subway Nightly Sports Call,
whining and moaning and complaining about how much the Penguins gave up
in yesterday's big trade. How much they gave up? Are they kidding?
Let's look at the numbers:
Erik Christensen: 9 goals, 11 assists
Colby Armstrong: 9 goals, 15 assists
Combined Totals: 18 goals, 27 assists. All this while playing with three world-class centers on the #2 team in the East.
Now let's look at what they're getting:
Marian Hossa: 26 goals, 30 assists. While playing with third-rate centers on the #14 team in the East.
Okay. How about last season? A history of great performances? Is that the problem?
Don't think so:
Christensen last year: 18 goals, 15 assists
Armstrong last year: 12 goals, 22 asssists
Combined Totals: 30 goals, 37 assists.
Marian Hossa last year: 43 goals, 57 assists.
What they're giving up are two good, solid, role players. What they're getting is a world-class winger -- you know, the one to play with Sid that we've all been praying for these past two year -- and a top-flight, sure-fire goal scorer who, as an added bonus, also back-checks well and plays great defense in his own zone and in the neutral zone.
I love Colby Armstrong as much as the next guy. And I'm really gonna miss him. But he's been given huge chunks of time on Sidney Crosby's line these past two years, and he has exactly 21 goals to show for it. Erik Christensen has been given time on Sid's line, and on Geno's line, and on Jordan Staal's line, and he has exactly 27 goals to show for it. That's 48 goals combined. Marion Hossa has scored 69 goals the past two season, playing with a bunch of ham-and-eggers at center, and playing on a power play with a guy who never met a puck he wouldn't shoot.
Armstrong is a great grit and character guy, a strong penalty killer, and an excellent agitator. But let's face it: he's a prototypical third-line guy. He's been miscast as a top-two-line forward the past few years, and his production proves that. I'd love to have him as a third-line wing for the next ten years. But good, gritty third-line wingers are, if not a dime-a-dozen, at least a dime-a-half-dozen in the NHL. (Tyler Kennedy, for one, seems perfectly suited to stepping into that role right now.)
Christensen is a 2nd line guy at best, and one who hasn't shown enough consistency as a scorer or as a defensively responsible presence. He's still young and could still blossom into a second-line sniper, of course. But he's shown no signs of doing that yet. Even so, second-line snipers can be found in free agency at a fair and reasonable price (see Sykora, Peter). And he's just been traded for a consistent, first-line, All-Star sniper.
Armstrong and Christensen were building blocks, yes. But they weren't key pieces or foundations by any stretch of the imagination. They were great guys and great team guys and so will surely be missed by fans and teammates alike. But if you separate personality and likability and look at it from a purely talent-and-hockey perspective, the Pens, for what they got, really didn't give up much at all.
(Don't forget that, a couple of months ago, Atlanta's starting point for Hossa trade talks was reported to be Jordan Staal. Now that would have been giving up a lot. That would have been a mistake.)
The wild cards here, of course, are the 1st round draft pick -- which will surely be late in the round -- and Angelo Esposito, last year's first-round pick who may have some character issues and who has wildly underachieved this year. Esposito may one day turn into an outstanding NHL-caliber center. But the Penguins already have three of those -- anyone think Esposito will surpass Crosby, Malkin, or Staal? anyone want him too? -- and so it seems that, barring a shift to wing, he was destined to be trade-bait eventually anyway. This seems like one hell of a time to get someone to bite.
The wild card in return is Pascal Dupuis, a speedy winger with good skills who's defensively sound and an excellent penalty killer. He gives the Pens some more depth and flexibility and, with his defensive responsibility and his penalty killing, helps fill in for the most valuable of Colby Armstrong's contributions.
Bottom line: this is a bold move. A risky move -- especially if the Pens can't or don't sign Hossa after this season. It a may even be a bit of a gamble. But it's also a great move -- the kind that teams make when they know they have a good team with glaring need that, once filled, allows them to take a serious run at a championship. It's also the kind a team can afford to make when they know that, no matter what happens this season, they still have all the essential ingredients (Crosby, Malkin, Staal, Fleury, Gonchar, Whitney, Letang) and a whole lot of key role players they'll need to take a serious run at a championship for the next five (or more) seasons.
When we woke up yesterday morning, the Penguins were, on paper, one of the best four teams in the Eastern Conference. When we woke up this morning, they were the best. That doesn't sound like they gave up too much to me.
Erik Christensen: 9 goals, 11 assists
Colby Armstrong: 9 goals, 15 assists
Combined Totals: 18 goals, 27 assists. All this while playing with three world-class centers on the #2 team in the East.
Now let's look at what they're getting:
Marian Hossa: 26 goals, 30 assists. While playing with third-rate centers on the #14 team in the East.
Okay. How about last season? A history of great performances? Is that the problem?
Don't think so:
Christensen last year: 18 goals, 15 assists
Armstrong last year: 12 goals, 22 asssists
Combined Totals: 30 goals, 37 assists.
Marian Hossa last year: 43 goals, 57 assists.
What they're giving up are two good, solid, role players. What they're getting is a world-class winger -- you know, the one to play with Sid that we've all been praying for these past two year -- and a top-flight, sure-fire goal scorer who, as an added bonus, also back-checks well and plays great defense in his own zone and in the neutral zone.
I love Colby Armstrong as much as the next guy. And I'm really gonna miss him. But he's been given huge chunks of time on Sidney Crosby's line these past two years, and he has exactly 21 goals to show for it. Erik Christensen has been given time on Sid's line, and on Geno's line, and on Jordan Staal's line, and he has exactly 27 goals to show for it. That's 48 goals combined. Marion Hossa has scored 69 goals the past two season, playing with a bunch of ham-and-eggers at center, and playing on a power play with a guy who never met a puck he wouldn't shoot.
Armstrong is a great grit and character guy, a strong penalty killer, and an excellent agitator. But let's face it: he's a prototypical third-line guy. He's been miscast as a top-two-line forward the past few years, and his production proves that. I'd love to have him as a third-line wing for the next ten years. But good, gritty third-line wingers are, if not a dime-a-dozen, at least a dime-a-half-dozen in the NHL. (Tyler Kennedy, for one, seems perfectly suited to stepping into that role right now.)
Christensen is a 2nd line guy at best, and one who hasn't shown enough consistency as a scorer or as a defensively responsible presence. He's still young and could still blossom into a second-line sniper, of course. But he's shown no signs of doing that yet. Even so, second-line snipers can be found in free agency at a fair and reasonable price (see Sykora, Peter). And he's just been traded for a consistent, first-line, All-Star sniper.
Armstrong and Christensen were building blocks, yes. But they weren't key pieces or foundations by any stretch of the imagination. They were great guys and great team guys and so will surely be missed by fans and teammates alike. But if you separate personality and likability and look at it from a purely talent-and-hockey perspective, the Pens, for what they got, really didn't give up much at all.
(Don't forget that, a couple of months ago, Atlanta's starting point for Hossa trade talks was reported to be Jordan Staal. Now that would have been giving up a lot. That would have been a mistake.)
The wild cards here, of course, are the 1st round draft pick -- which will surely be late in the round -- and Angelo Esposito, last year's first-round pick who may have some character issues and who has wildly underachieved this year. Esposito may one day turn into an outstanding NHL-caliber center. But the Penguins already have three of those -- anyone think Esposito will surpass Crosby, Malkin, or Staal? anyone want him too? -- and so it seems that, barring a shift to wing, he was destined to be trade-bait eventually anyway. This seems like one hell of a time to get someone to bite.
The wild card in return is Pascal Dupuis, a speedy winger with good skills who's defensively sound and an excellent penalty killer. He gives the Pens some more depth and flexibility and, with his defensive responsibility and his penalty killing, helps fill in for the most valuable of Colby Armstrong's contributions.
Bottom line: this is a bold move. A risky move -- especially if the Pens can't or don't sign Hossa after this season. It a may even be a bit of a gamble. But it's also a great move -- the kind that teams make when they know they have a good team with glaring need that, once filled, allows them to take a serious run at a championship. It's also the kind a team can afford to make when they know that, no matter what happens this season, they still have all the essential ingredients (Crosby, Malkin, Staal, Fleury, Gonchar, Whitney, Letang) and a whole lot of key role players they'll need to take a serious run at a championship for the next five (or more) seasons.
When we woke up yesterday morning, the Penguins were, on paper, one of the best four teams in the Eastern Conference. When we woke up this morning, they were the best. That doesn't sound like they gave up too much to me.
Posted at 10:13 AM
Mon - February 4, 2008
A SUPER PREDICTION
from z to a.
If you watched any of last night's
post-game show -- and really, how you could not? -- you heard at least a
half-dozen members of the World-Champion, Soulless-Patriots-Perfection-Crushing
New York Giants spin some variation of the tired, old No one gave us a chance
to win line. We'll forgive these guys the excitement and emotion of the
moment. But sometime before tomorrow's ticker-tape parade, someone really
should tell them, if only to spare them from repeating the fiction over and over
again, that you can hardly claim no one gave you a chance to win when the
foremost NFL expert for the country's foremost sports publication predicted, on
the cover, twelve days ago, that you would
win.
It's difficult to read in this image, but the bottom line of text reads: Dr. Z.: Why I'm Picking the Giants to Win the Super Bowl. Inside the magazine was a full column, titled Tougher Than the Rest: Giants grit will overcome Pats' talent in Super Bowl. (You can read it here.) Three days after that column first appeared, he wrote another one online, titled Rising Tide: Giants' momentum should submarine sinking Pats. (You can read it here.) One more time, this past Friday, came one last column, Against the Grain: Pats may have edge in talent, but Giants have mojo. (You can read it here.)
Dr. Z. gave the Giants a lot of credit. Now it's time, if only by their silence, they started giving him some too.
It's difficult to read in this image, but the bottom line of text reads: Dr. Z.: Why I'm Picking the Giants to Win the Super Bowl. Inside the magazine was a full column, titled Tougher Than the Rest: Giants grit will overcome Pats' talent in Super Bowl. (You can read it here.) Three days after that column first appeared, he wrote another one online, titled Rising Tide: Giants' momentum should submarine sinking Pats. (You can read it here.) One more time, this past Friday, came one last column, Against the Grain: Pats may have edge in talent, but Giants have mojo. (You can read it here.)
Dr. Z. gave the Giants a lot of credit. Now it's time, if only by their silence, they started giving him some too.
Posted at 08:55 AM
A SUPER PHOTO
that pretty much says it all.
(Credit: Paul Sancya / Associated Press.)
Posted at 08:43 AM
A SUPER REDEFINITION
17-14.
bit·ter·sweet (adj) •
when a midnight-green-and-white-bleeding Eagles fan realizes the single greatest
Super Bowl memory of his lifetime is a New York Giants' victory.
Posted at 12:04 AM
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Published On: May 15, 2008 04:43 PM
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Published On: May 15, 2008 04:43 PM