Loopholes, awesomness, and a little hockey karma

First of all, for the benefit of Lindsay, who I know won't stop pestering me about this until we're in our fifties unless I clear it up right away - when I said I'd write something about every game, I never said how soon after the game the writing would come. At any rate, I have a solid excuse for yesterday - the power went out due to a snow storm, and I spent most of the evening reading comic books by kerosene lamp (no joke - my dad collects them. Our house is brighter during blackouts than any other situation). So here's my make-up work:


To say that I wasn't expecting that game against Montreal would be the truth. It was preceded by a full hour of black and white footage breaking down a rivalry that had already been running full steam a good 300 years before the dinosaurs were water-skiing behind Noah's Ark.

Ted Lindsay angry. TED LINDSAY SMASH!

Is it telling of what time and separate conferences do to a rivalry that they had to go back to the pre-color days to get most of their footage? Probably. But that's sort of beside the point. CBC had this game so hyped up that they pushed Hockey Night In Canada ahead one day to give it national coverage. It seemed just about the perfect opportunity for the Wings to all eat giant, steaming bowls of stupid that morning and herp derp their way through another abysmal loss. They didn't. They won, and it was awesome.

So I was expecting some sort of karmic retribution on Saturday against the Devils - because the day before had been so awesome, because Chris Osgood was in net and there are clearly otherworldly forces conspiring against his surpassing 400 career wins, because I've trained myself to consistently expect the worst - but the worst thing that happened all night was that every goal and fight in the game happened while I was out of the room. Well actually I guess the worst things that happened all night happened to the Devils.

It's a reassuring thought, Santa

And then the Kings were in Detroit this evening.

With about sixteen left to play in the third, I wondered whether it would make me a bad Wings fan to abandon my television before the game was over to take a shower, but then I decided that personal hygiene is more important than subjecting myself to needless pain, and anyway, as Lindsay was quick to remind me, the game had been over since the middle of the second period.

If I had a dollar for of every picture I've saved of Brad Stuart and Jimmy Howard lying side by side, watching their tears freeze to the ice, I'd have enough to go out and buy a nice-looking scrapbook to keep them in.

This is the part where to make myself feel better about my team having lost, I usually post something like Jack Johnson playing baseball with Sidney Crosby, or Anze Kopitar's naked baby pictures, but my heart's not really in it tonight, which I think has less to do with bitterness over the loss and more to do with the fact that I'm falling asleep at my keyboard right now. Oh well. Maybe next game.

Go Wings.

"WTF Thursday" just doesn't have the same ring to it

Ok, nobody can blame me if I don't want to write about last night's game. I wouldn't blame anyone if they didn't want to read about it.

I don't know why I'm surprised every time the Red Wings have a miserable night against the Nashville Predators - it happens nearly every time, even when they eventually come out on top. I guess in some respects I should cut my losses - I didn't have to sit through two and a half periods with the game tied at zero, and, to my knowledge, none of the Red Wings skated off with a concussion that's going to last a year.

Uh, did I sort of promise a Nashville-themed WTF Wednesday and then totally not deliver?

I wish I could bring you something awesome to make up for that (and maybe some of you will find this way more awesomely wtf than I do - I've been hoarding so much hockey-related strangeness on my hard drive the last few years that I'm starting to get a warped view of what's weird and what's actually normal), but all I have is a reader-provided youtube of Taylor Swift plugging the team (even though we've got some sketchy evidence that she might actually back the Penguins) and this poorly done tattoo:

This should slightly upset me as a Red Wings fan, but instead I'm just laughing

Maybe I'd have more if I had the tolerance to research them better, but every time I think about that team, all my brain screams is "vomit vomit train whistles".

That was unpleasant

This blog has gotten some serious writer's block. Take a look at the difference between the post count from 2009 and what we're at so far in 2010, and you'll understand what I mean. As someone who managed to trick a college into letting her actually graduate with a writing degree, I know that the best cure for writer's block is copious amounts of alcohol, lack of sleep, and unlimited high speed internet writing through it even when you have nothing whatsoever to say, which is why for the next two weeks, I'm saying something about every game the Red Wings play, even if it's just three sentences about how [insert team name here] makes me want to throw my fist through a wall.

And judging how stress levels at my new job have been, there's going to be a lot of that.

I can't say I don't wish the Wings would have won that game, but maybe they need to lose a couple every once in a while to remind them to play a full 60 minutes, and I have to say that it's really, really nice after last season for a regulation loss to be a relatively rare occurrence.

I still don't know what was going on with Bertuzzi's no-goal, but whatever. I'm pretty sure I had my eyes closed for that entire replay, because I didn't see any reason to blow the whistle, and last I checked, refs weren't allowed to just arbitrarily stop play. Maybe he had a wedgie in his Toasty Tights and wanted a couple minutes to re-adjust.

I'll leave you with that mental image. Speaking of which - the next game's on Wednesday. I'll have to check and see if I have any Nashville-related wtf-ery lying around.

The Greatest Hockey Music Ever - Part IV

So from what we heard, that game tonight was pretty epic. Unfortunately, as we weren't around to see it, we don't really feel qualified to offer up our opinions, so here's something actually relevant to what we were doing that might entertain you.

In honor of the Great Big Sea concert we just attended, here's the consummate sleeping-your-way-around-the-league song, Helmethead:

Great Big Sea - Helmethead

I'd like to be able to give this one another five paragraph analyzation, but unfortunately (fortunately?) it's sung completely in tune, and lacks both horrific lyrics and a synth solo breakdown.

Enjoy.

My throat still hurts from yelling

I'd like to bitch and moan about sloppy, inconsistent play right now, but I have a feeling that most of my complaints are just me taking out my unrelated frustrations (it's Monday morning right now, and I'm sacrificing my lunch hour (and risking the very real possibility that someone will walk by and yell at me for not working because they don't know I'm on lunch) to go through and edit this post for spelling errors and comma mistakes (of which there will still probably be three)) on whatever is most readily available, and since I don't have any way of watching the Blackhawks right now (SOMETIMES I TAKE OUT MY IRRATIONAL ANGER BY YELLING AT THAT TEAM FOR NO REASON, ALRIGHT?), it's all getting dumped on bad turnovers and powerplays where the Red Wings have no shots on goal.

Oh my god, last night the Red Wings had a powerplay where there were no shots on goal.

Why?

No, no I'm dwelling on the negative again. At the end of the story, however dismally you want to spin it, the Red Wings won.

And I have to tell you - if they're going to use less-than-stellar play to set up dramatic turnarounds as exciting as last night was, fine. They have my blessing. I can watch Zetterberg and Lidstrom score ridiculous, game-changing goals like that every hour of every day for the rest of my life. More please.

Even though every member of the team left the ice limping, somehow no one got substantially injured. So you can all loosen the knot in your stomach and prepare it for copious amounts of turkey.

WTF Wednesday

I wanted to bring this to all of you on Sunday, when I heard about it, but Lindsay reminded me that it would be just as WTF on Wednesday. And it is.

By now a few of you have probably caught wind of Toews and Kane's awful, amazing, awful cell phone commercial, maybe via PuckDaddy's play-by-play. If not - here's the gist:

Jonathan Toews is sitting in an outdoor cafe, spies an attractive lady at the next table, then proceeds to take a picture of her hand (don't ask me - I don't keep track of the Blackhawks' kinky fetishes) with his cell phone, and sends it off to his bff Patrick, who I guess has the magical ability to tell how attractive a woman looks just by getting a cameraphone picture of her fingers. He gives Toews the green light to pursue, and cautions him against using the phone's pick-up line app, presumably because Kane wants to keep all the really bad pick-up lines for himself (tell me he doesn't seem the type). The rest of the commercial is one big steaming pile of increasingly mounting awkwardness, that...

I don't know, maybe I'm the only one. Tell me, ladies, if a stranger sidled up to you at a restaurant and had barely said hello before he whipped out his cell phone, laughed, said "I've got one funny friend", and showed you a picture of a different guy sandwiched between two other girls, would you or would you not expect to presently be invited to some sort of orgy? If Jonathan Toews did that to me, I would be running away, quickly, maybe in search of an officer of the law.

Thankfully, someone besides myself saved the video before it was mysteriously taken off Youtube, so you can watch it here. (If it gets removed again, let us know. We've got your back on this one. The world needs to see this.)

Moral of the story: Ladies (or possibly men), if you ever see someone across the room take a picture of your left hand, run. Run quickly.

Don't mess with Detroit

If I were asked to list my three most hated things this week, I would say:

1) Spiders
2) Getting asked if I know Eminem when people find out where I live
3) People who live outside the Metro area and insult the city of Detroit.

Three things about life I truly love might be:

1) The corner of 8 Mile and Shadyside
2) Tim Hortons Iced Capps (made with chocolate milk, obviously)
3) When large groups of people band together for a common cause. Especially when it entails some fool gettin' told.

It seems like this happens a couple times every year. A journalist sits down at his laptop, considers the vast, rich landscape of possibilities open to him through which to steer his readers, weighs them against his subject matter, his abilities, and his deadline, and goes the lazy man's route - straight through the heart of every man, woman, and child who feels insulted when Detroit's insulted too. And then those men, women, and children who have internet access assemble to give him the what for.

You might want to read the first couple paragraphs of this sparklingly brilliant work of journalism before continuing. Ahem.

"Muggy with a chance of murder"? How dare he mock southeast Michigan's relentless summer humidity. Until you've lived here, you just don't understand the indignity of watching your carefully flat-ironed coif spring up a frizz-halo three inches in every direction from your head. He's clearly balding. And heartless.

In all honesty though, I write about this because it angers me. Maybe not this specific article per se - Detroit's been jabbed so many times that Tychkowski's jab didn't even penetrate the scar tissue - but the stereotypes his comments stemmed from rouse my ire. Maybe it's because I spend eight months out of the year a school telling people that 8 Mile really isn't that interesting, and is mostly gas stations, used car lots, and strip clubs. Maybe it's because I've personally felt the effects of the auto industry crumbling, watched friends and family members search endlessly for jobs to no avail, and watched as home foreclosures sprung up around my neighborhood like dandelions. True, the city has its problems, we can't ignore that - but to exploit them for a cheap laugh and a catchy anecdote is to cheapen the experiences of everyone who lives in the Detroit-metro area.

Which, ultimately, is what this article amounted to. Tychkowski was trying to draw on a parallel between the crappyness of his team's play and the crappyness of the city of Detroit. It was just a little flourish of rhetoric wordplay. Removed from its geographical context, the turn of phrase is almost clever. He's probably a bit confused why his article has garnered over a hundred comments of angry backlash. I'm not confused. It's because we get judged on vacation when we tell people we're from the Detroit area. Because we get immediately defensive when we see the name of the city at the start of a news article not written by a local publication. And it's because EdmontonSun.com has a comments feature, whereas network sitcoms, The Tonight Show with Jay Leno, and the Times Magazine sitting in your doctor's waiting room - all of which have been guilty of laying down the hate on Detroit - do not.

Mickey Redmond was even peeved about this:

"It's completely unnecessary, uncalled for, unrelated to the game of hockey," said Redmond. "If it was an attempt to be humorous, it was a lousy attempt at that. It was not necessary. You're beating up on a city that obviously doesn't need it"

If I used this blog to occasionally disparage against Canada, particularly northern Alberta, I probably wouldn't get publicly told off by the Oilers color guy, which is almost a shame, because our Wikio ratings would go bananas.

Anyway, Tychkowski, you pulled the "lol Detroit sucks" card, and now you're taking the heat for it. I don't know you - you might be a nice guy who feels like a real ass right now (some of those comments had considerably stronger wording than Mickey's), but maybe next time you'll choose your words more carefully. At any rate, you did manage to write one great, succinct, infinitely truthful Detroit-related line the other night - "The Wings are good."

Yes. Yes they are.

Do you know what I love about Henrik Zetterberg?

Everything.


Which is exactly what I loved about the ten seconds following Dan Cleary's goal and the final three seconds of that game.

We haven't posted here in two weeks, and that's unacceptable. When this blog dies, it won't be a slow, languishing death wherein the space between posts gets wider and wider and wider until one day there just aren't anymore. No, if we go, we go with fireworks and explosions and eight page retrospectives and a big drunken party that you'll all be invited to - that's a promise. To keep that promise, I have to sit here tonight and write until I have something resembling a hockey blog assembled.

- The Wings were outplayed for a decent chunk of the game Monday, which was reflected in the score, and the fact that the game went to overtime. This continues a trend. Because it's November, and they're winning most of these games anyway, I feel like I can afford to look the other way for now, and tell myself that everything will work itself out by spring. (I will regret these words eventually.)

- Someone needs to tell Dan Cleary that scoring a goal for his team does not mean that he's in any way obligated to assist the other team in doing the same.

- I'm not sure why Salei decided that jumping on Howard would be in our team's best interests this evening.

- Rafalski made his return in this game. I have no idea how he looked, because my eyes unfocused every time the puck went into our defensive zone.

- Have I mentioned how much I love Henrik Zetterberg?

- Andy Brickley didn't say "tremendous sex" this time, which is always a disappointment.

- The Wings' next game is on Thursday, against the Oilers, again, only this time you don't have to stay up until 2am eastern to catch the end of it.

And because I have nothing more relevant to say, here - have a picture of Wayne Gretzky about to eat his own daughter at a golf tournament. Because the Wings are between games with Phoenix and Edmonton, it's sort of relevant, if you squint, and maybe cross your eyes a little.

This Game Was Ridiculousness

First of all, RIP Orange Hat Guy. It's a rare thing in major league sports when a fan garners as much notoriety as you had, and rarer still that it wasn't for doing something mind-blowingly idiotic in an attempt to draw attention to yourself. All you did was show up to every game in headgear the color of pure, unfiltered awesome. For that you were known, and for that you will be missed.

...


Alright, the Wings won, so I'll be a good sport about this.

Congratulations to Teemu Selanne on tying Bobby Hull for 15th place in all-time goals scored. Actually surpassing him's probably going to be a bigger deal for everybody involved, but Selanne's unlikely to do that against the Red Wings, and I'm not going to find out about it until three weeks after its happened, so this is my only chance. 610 is a heck of a lot of goals to score, but according to the Jets, Selanne's been the "Boss" for the last five hundred and fifty-six of them. Although maybe at some point between then and now he scored enough to take the quote marks off "Boss" so reading it out loud didn't make it sound condescendingly sarcastic.

Who was the old boss I wonder? Was it Tie Domi?


Yeah, I bet it was Tie Domi.

Also tied tonight was the goalie record for most consecutive non-losses in regulation since the lockout (which seems like an awkward thing to keep track of, but whatever). Jimmy tied Ozzie. Do you know what that means?

That means the Red Wings are awesome.

But not so awesome that I don't get to complain about inconsistent play. (When the Red Wings aren't winning games, like the first half of last season, I look back on posts like this one, read what I've written, throw up a little in my mouth at what a spoiled brat I must be to ask for more than two points, and pray to the hockey gods that my idiocy never astrally contributes to the rise of a second Dead Wings era. But this blog hasn't been updated regularly in a while, so I'm risking it.)

There were so many moments in that game that were so spectacular that it gets hard to remember all the awful, cringe-worthy moments that sat between them. Which is part of what makes it frustrating. Howard actually said it best in his post-game interview on Thursday - that when the guys decide to play, they're scary. (I don't know if he actually meant to call the whole team out in front of the media, but... he was saying what we were all thinking.) Can they make the playoffs by only doing the bare minimum required of them to succeed the whole year? Yeah, they can. They showed that they can this week, by pulling points out of games they didn't show up to for the full 60 minutes. But that's not what I want to see all season.

It's like that genius kid you knew in high school who failed all his classes because he was too bored to pay attention. I knew that kid. He never went to college and now he's 25 and (bear with me here) still unemployed, living out of his mom's basement and making me weep for his wasted potential.

The playoffs are college. And if the Red Wings get bored and lose all their regular season games, I'm going to be 24 and curled up in my mom's basement, weeping for their wasted potential.

Why do I start freaking out about this kind of stuff in October? Last October my soul died a little every game the Wings lost, which was almost every game. I would have killed for this October. Forget everything I just said, you guys. I don't care how they do it. Let's be happy for the win.

The next games on Thursday. Thursday. Have you ever woken up on Monday morning, screamed into your pillow because you had to go to school/work, and thought about the endless, unceasing, infinitely long string of hours you have to live through to make it to Friday? Add a day to that. That's how long it is until the next Wings game.

Are the ridiculous schedules a byproduct of having to coordinate 82 games for 30 teams? Is it because of the conference/division system? Is it the network tv slots? Bettman? Is it old? Is it new? Am I imagining it? I'm serious. The scheduling process is, given all the varied aspects of hockey as a game and a business, probably the thing I'm least-informed about, which is stupid, because as a fan, it usually affects me the most directly. If any of you guys have better insight into this, please - enlighten me.