Tinfoil Flashmob

I don't have to tell any of you how awful the officiating has been in the eyes of Red Wings fans throughout the second round. After watching what felt like 120 minutes of penalty killing, a group of fans decided to take action against the NHL. The best way to do that? Block the brainwashing with hats made of tin foil. Clearly.

Just that happened before game 3. A handful of Red Wings faithful made and passed out hats before dancing the Hustle to The Hockey Song on the steps of the Gordie Howe entrance.

And Hockeytown Static was there to capture the magic.


And by "capture the magic", I mean Lindsay creeped awkwardly in the shadows near the box office with a digital camera.

I'm the chunky one on the right.

We'd actually like to apologize to everyone involved for showing up seconds before the dancing began, loitering creepily with a video camera and running away as soon as it ended. We were fully prepared to show up early and introduce ourselves to all of you lovely people, but I-96 had other plans. Furthermore, a dinner engagement (which we were also late to) sort of forced us into a dash-and-dine. But let me tell you - having a nice family dinner in a restaurant decked out like we were actually at a Wings game, tinfoil hats and all? Worth everything.

If you'd like to read up any other perspectives of the event, check out the Free Press, Snipe Snipe Dangle Dangle, it_burns_us's LiveJournal, Etched In Cold, and Mlive

The tinfoil itself didn't seem to bother Gary or the refs at all during the game, but the event itself was life-changing. It taught me about myself, about brainwashing, and about how hard it is to do the hustle on non-regulation-sized stairs.

The boys are back in town

Well... they're back in Denver, anyway.

I'm not going to try to do any kind of Olympic wrap-up. Mostly because both Lindsay and I are still trying in vain to figure out how we're supposed to live our lives now that there aren't 8 hours of curling televised a day.

And a little because HOLY CRAP THE RED WINGS ARE PLAYING AGAIN ALSDJFLSKDJF.

And WE HAVE ALL OUR SWEDES BACK.

And HALF OF THOSE SWEDES SCORED GOALS.

amen.

- After literally more than a full year, Andreas Lilja made his triumphant return to NHL ice. I missed him, and his shot-blocking, and (in a sick and twisted sort of way) almost missed his laughably questionable defensive choices. Welcome back, Lils. I'd say start kicking ass, but that's how we lost you in the first place so... just welcome back then.

- I wonder how many Wings fans joined the Pepsi Center faithful in their booing of Todd Bertuzzi every time he touched the puck. (I mean besides Mike Petrella.) (And in case you had no clue what the hell was going on, here's the gist.)

- You know, I don't really feel like it's been a real Red Wings game until there's been at least one goal called off thanks to Homer's ass. (Not that I blame the lack of goal on Homer's ass. I'm pretty sure Kelly Fraser and Craig Anderson were the only people in the universe today who blamed Homer's ass for anything. And you can't really count Fraser, because I'm also pretty sure he blames Homer's ass for everything from flat tires to being out of strawberry ripple ice cream to John F. Kennedy's assassination.)

- Dear Versus: This whole "unfairly using Darren McCarty to make me hate you less" thing? Um... well... it might be working, but that excuses neither your video replay issues, nor your toolishness. But a solid B- for not being NBC. Keep working on it.

Were the Wings perfect tonight? No. Were they healthy, did they get two points, and did they beat the Avs in Colorado? Yes. So I have nothing more to say.

Just your average referee rant

Well that was pukey. The Wings lost to the Stars 3-1, and as I'm sure all you who watched the game are aware, the score should have been 3-2.



Play whistled down? Intent to blow the whistle? Really? It took him over two seconds to raise his hand to his mouth? I don't even know. I could put some of the blame on Toronto for being lame, but I'm not. I'm putting it on Dennis LaRue. I will always put it on Dennis LaRue, because it's always his fault. Trisha said it best back in May:

"I hate Dennis LaRue. Every time I see a tiny man skate onto the ice wearing a striped jersey with a number 14 on the back, my stomach drops because I know I’m about to sit through at least sixty minutes of ridiculousness. I hate it. There are some refs in this league I give second chances to, allow occasional mistakes from, try to forgive a little even if I can’t forget (because we’re all human) – but Dennis LaRue is not one of those refs. I want to get him alone in an elevator so I can kick him in the shins more than I do Jarome Iginla."

As you can see, there's not much love going around Hockeytown Static for that man.

Besides that outrage, this game put back a lot of the worries that I had in the beginning of the season back in my head. It's not that this game was extraordinarily bad, but the Wings just didn't seem to have the same drive that they've had for the last few games. Maybe I'll just forget this game ever happened...

But at least I got to watch the game. Our dad is in Texas for a couple of day on a business trip, and he was happy the Wings were playing the Stars because then he would be able to still see the game. So he went back to his hotel room, and there was no game. Then he went to TGI Friday's, and still no game. Finally he went to a bar and asked the bartender if he could turn on one of the T.V.s to the game, and the bartender responded "Sorry but we don't have it. We don't watch a lot of hockey in Texas". I can't decide if this is funny or sad. Maybe it's both. Here's to hoping Friday's game against Florida is less painful to watch.

And so it begins (or does it continue?)

The Stanley Cup finals have finally started, and with that the world has jumped on the hockey bandwagon. Every other feed on my Facebook homepage says “Go Wings!” Newspapers are posting hockey news on the front page. Even youtube.com is jumping on for the ride. I’d ask where these people are the other 351 days a year, but I know the answer.

They’re watching football.

As tonight’s game came to a close, I started racking my brain for a word to describe it. Unfortunately, no such word exists, so a long string of adjectives will have to do. It was stressful, gross, fast, amazing, ridiculous, exciting, and above all, (what else?) pukey. But the Wings came out with the win, and that’s all that matters in the end. It was great having Nick and Fabio back on the blueline, and it will be even better when Pavel finally gets healthy.

How long has it been now? Maybe in my brain three minutes without Pavel Datsyuk just feels like ten years, but I’m almost ready to call complete bs on the “bruised foot” thing. Whatever it is, it needs to go away soon; I want the Russian-on-Russian deke-battles I’ve been dreaming of.

Now, onto things that make me irrationally angry. DENNIS-FREAKING-LARUE. Who let him into the Stanley Cup finals? Wasn’t it enough fun last year when O’Halloran ref-ed every other game? It’s a miracle that the Red Wings didn’t end the first period with two game misconducts, five fighting majors for standing too close to Sidney Crosby, and down by nine goals.

But the Wings deserved that win. They killed off two back-to-back penalties, had the better goaltender, and just all out played a better game. I’ve been hearing that all three of the goals they scored were lucky bounces, but clearly these people didn’t see the goal from Justin Abdelkader. He knocked it out of the air and then put it in the net. That doesn’t sound like a lucky bounce to me.

At the rate they’re going, Crosby and Zetterberg are going to end up scheduling a full on cage match for the off-season. The last thing I want to see is those two trying to hurt each other as the series goes on, because as much as I’ve got my money on the Viking, Hank has a history of back spasms that I’d like to keep as history.

And I don’t know. I sort of expected more violence against Hossa. I know there was some, but I was sort of hoping that their retribution-anger would have distracted them from the game, like it did Chicago. Like taking stupid penalties and going WHAAAAREVENGE!! instead of I am going to force him toward the boards and pass the puck across ice to the neutral zone. Maybe tomorrow.

Chicago…still blegh

That game was a thriller, but Chicago still gives me headaches. I was getting whiplash watching the puck move so fast with all the turnovers and honestly think that the western conference finals are going to end with someone sustaining a serious injury of some sort. It almost happened in Game One with that Burish neck-slice scare. This series is getting really scrappy.

And with scrappiness comes penalties. Horrible, unnecessary, stupid penalties from the whistles of Dennis LaRue and Greg Devorski. I hate Dennis LaRue. Every time I see a tiny man skate onto the ice wearing a striped jersey with a number 14 on the back, my stomach drops because I know I’m about to sit through at least sixty minutes of ridiculousness. I hate it. There are some refs in this league I give second chances to, allow occasional mistakes from, try to forgive a little even if I can’t forget (because we’re all human) – but Dennis LaRue is not one of those refs. I want to get him alone in an elevator so I can kick him in the shins more than I do Jarome Iginla.

On a less bitter note…that game was, in my opinion, Chris Osgood’s best performance in this year’s playoffs, and… probably all year. He was consistent and pretty much the main reason why the Red Wings came out with a win. Justin Abdelkader had a pretty solid night, too. He made some plays that showed he is ready to play in this league. I’m a little worried about who we’ll have to drop to get him and Darren Helm in Detroit next year (even though I’m guessing that ready or not, Abdelkader’s spending some quality time in Grand Rapids again), but that’s Ken Holland’s problem – not mine.

Game three is Friday in Chicago. I want to be excited, because it’s the playoffs, and Wings are up two games to none, but I find it really hard to get excited about watching a hockey game in an arena full of Blackhawks fans.

I saw one today, at 1:30 in the morning, outside of the MGM Grand parking garage, still in his jersey, staring out despondently at the passing traffic. If I hadn’t been sure my friend, who was driving, would backhand me for making a scene, I would have reached over, laid on the horn, leaned out my window, and yelled something about his team having cooties.

Are you pissed? You should be.

I understand that the referees are in the game for a purpose, and that they're important or something.

I just... WHY IS THE OFFICIATING DECIDING THE GODDAMNED SERIES?

I don't just mean that goal that was a goal that somehow wasn't counted as a goal because I guess the ref just didn't feel like calling it a goal because he had indigestion or a bird was in the arena rafters and pooped in his eye or he was staring at Neidermayer's ass or something, I mean the fact that half the goals that were counted as goals this series were powerplay goals too. I’m not going to sit here and tell you that I remember some idyllic time long ago when hockey was played without penalties being called, because I don’t, actually. Refs have been making mistakes since before I was born, and the world keeps turning. But in this series it feels like the officiating is making an extra effort to impact the final outcomes of these games. Now, I’m not saying that if these two teams had been allowed to play 5-on-5 grab-and-grapple hockey for three games that the Wings would be on their way to a sweep or anything. I’m just saying that I want to be able to someday look my children and grandchildren in the eye and tell them, whatever the outcome, that yes, during the 2009 western conference semi-finals, the better-playing team won.

And since that was so ridiculous and it’s already Wednesday in Michigan, you know, when normal people would be sleeping, and not watching hockey games that end like that, unable to yell at the television for fear of waking the rest of their family, who have to get up and work in the morning, you know, like normal people, that call was hockeytownstatic’s WTF Wednesday moment. That and Nick Lidstrom holding back Pronger at the end of the game. Which we laughed at. Really hard. Harder when we figured they weren’t going to hurt each other.

Is that a total cop-out? Maybe. After those two games, I’m not going anywhere near our crappy dial-up internet again for at least a week. I’m stressed enough, and I don’t think my family would understand if I put my fist through the screen screaming I HATE CHRIS PRONGER.

Part of me is almost thankful that it was just over quickly though. I’m a nightowl, but I don’t want to be up until 3 in the morning watching the Ducks wear us down again in overtime.

Dammit, this is so fricking ridiculous. I’m so struck by the ridiculousity of the whole thing that I can’t even tell how angry I am.

That game was pukey

It was one of those games where the refs influenced the score, and while I'm happy with the overall outcome, a few of those penalties made me want to vomit bricks on Kelly Sutherland.

And instead of being outraged at the bogusest goaltender interference penalty called in the history of man (although paradoxically maybe not the most bogus goaltender interference penalty called against Tomas Holmstrom), CBC spent the whole game going back to how Jiri Hudler should have kept his head up on that questionable hit.

Because everyone knows Europeans only get hurt because they don't know how to play hockey. Ugh, whatever.

I spent the last 54 seconds of that game refusing to look at the television. Game 5 is still a bleeding, throbbing wound in my heart, and I have a minor post-traumatic meltdown every time the opposing team pulls their goalie to this day.

I did catch most of CBC's post-game interviews. It looks like Ryan Getzlaf manscapes. Those eyebrows are spectacular. Very shapely.

She was about to go all Jedi on Hollweg's ass

Last night Lindsay and I were apparently witness to the first game in Griffins history where no penalties were called (maybe in response to Friday night's game where the worst penalty I have ever seen in my life was called. It wasn't even questionable. There was no question. Helm was a good six feet away. But I digress...)

It was Star Wars night. We had standing room only tickets, there were stormtroopers on the concourse, Darth Vader was walking around... I was kind of dorking out.

Lindsay almost had to be held back from hitting Ryan Hollweg with her $5 plastic lightsaber as he passed us on his way out of the arena. You may remember Ryan Hollweg from such timeless classics as Ryan Hollweg hits Sergei Kostitsyn from behind, Chris Simon tries to kill Ryan Hollweg, and Ryan Hollweg dances like a fool while Shanny laughs at him. I'm not sure where Lindsay developed such a seething, burning hatred for the man (I didn't think she liked the Kostitsyns that much) but there's no arguing with her once she's formed an opinion. Her and her lightsaber were bent on vengance. (If it was vengance against his creeper-stache, I could see where she was coming from.)

I don't know about her sometimes. Oh well. Anything for the Justin Abdelkader bobbleheads.

And that's only my nightstand because none of my shelves get enough light to take a decent picture. Really.

Ken thinks it's Downey Time

And so does the crowd at the Joe. That part was spectacular.

Watching Marty Turco get tripped up by his own guy behind the net? Having Lilja score on him? Also spectacular.

The rest of the game, not so much.

I watched it with Lindsay down the hall in my building, where there's a big screen television next to the laundry room. This means that not only did we have to sit through that ridiculousness, but we had to do it while we were dodging the dirty looks of every frat boy wannabe folding his boxer shorts, group of friends coming upstairs with pizza, and family lugging their kid's crap to the elevator and out for an early weekend. And there were a lot of them.

I was hoping that my excitement over Hank signing a contract that won't expire until I'm 34 would fade at nothing, not even the skanky hos on Dallas being skanky hos.

But my heart sank as soon as I saw who was officiating this game. I don't know what the Red Wings did to Dan O'Halloran. Maybe Mike Ilitch killed him in a past life. Maybe Lidstrom ran over his dog. Maybe Maltby egged his house.

Maybe Homer egged his dog in a past life. I don't know. Aside from actual orders from Bettman to be a biased goober (which I can't rule out), that's the best I can come up with.

And then Turco decides to be a whore and win the game.

I'm not going to mince words here. I genuinely do not like the guy. And I like goalies. I like them a lot. Marty Turco is where I draw the line. I had a really crappy day today, even before the game started. Marty Turco's shit-eating grin during his unnecessarily lengthy post-game interview (thanks, FSDetroit) DID NOT MAKE ME FEEL ANY BETTER.

By the end of the first period, I was already stuffing my face full of brownies and on the phone with my mother, bitching about the officiating and the imminent ruination of Turco's perfect Joe Louis record of Fail. It was like hockey was a douche of a boyfriend who was cheating again. But am I going to take him back? Of course I am. So are you. Oh, you'll say it's the last time you let it toy with your emotions, tell all your friends you're sick of its abusive games, but in the end, crawling back to it's the only thing you really know how to do.

Oh baby, I'm sorry. Please, please take me back!

And it will, Saturday afternoon, where it will either buy you a diamond necklace for your birthday, or sloppily make-out with Alex Ovechkin while it knows you're watching. Better break out the Ben and Jerry's..