Chillax, Spoilsports

I know this is going to seem hypocritical from the gal who was just demanding that the playoffs start, like, yesterday, but: people freaking out about the trade deadline need to stop getting ahead of themselves. I know that freaking out about trade deadlines is a long-cherished tradition among us Buffalo fans, but for whatever reason, all the bellyaching is really getting to me this year.

I guess I just don't get why the expectations for this team are suddenly so high. Don't get me wrong, I would love to see the Sabres win the Cup this year as much as anyone, and I think we just might have a shot. But before this season started I was just hoping we would make the playoffs for a change, so I'm not about to go declaring this season a failure if Darcy doesn't get us the player we need tomorrow.

First of all, because I'm not sure the player is out there to be had. We have our weaknesses, sure, but that doesn't mean there's anything Darcy can do about it. Not many teams are selling, and those that are don't seem to have that much to sell. But then again, what do I know. As usual, I'm more than comfortable letting the people who get paid to figure this stuff out, figure this stuff out.

Second of all, because there's no reason our Stanley Cup dreams--if we insist on having them--should live and die based on what happens tomorrow. For better or worse, there's still plenty of hockey left to be played before we even make it to the playoffs, let alone the victory lap. Sure, maybe this roster isn't good enough to put a ring on everybody's finger, but maybe it is. We can't just skip to the end of the story, we have to wait and see.

Last of all (and this is my real point), so what if this roster isn't good enough to win the whole thing? Maybe I'm being too deliberately cheerful about this situation, but at this point I'm fully prepared to be satisfied with less out of this season. I know fans always want to see their team be the best (I'm no different, mind), but the truth is only one team can be every year. I've spent two years without a real interest in the playoffs, so forgive me for being ready to be happy with second or third or even fifth best.

Does no one remember how much fun the playoffs were to watch in 2007, when our expectations hit "Stanley or Bust" sometime around November? Answer: Not very, and I can't help seeing the correlation. Sure, our expectations didn't make the Sabres suck out loud against Ottawa in round 3, but they did make rounds 1 and 2 feel perfunctory. Did anyone really get to enjoy eliminating the Islanders in 5 and the Rangers in 6, or did it just feel routine? That 7.7 second goal was sweet, but it still felt like an opening act, didn't it? Knowing now that the headliner blew, I wish I'd given the openers more of a chance.

I'm not going to deny that since seeing Olympic MVP Ryan Miller at work, I've spent every night nestled all snug in my bed, with visions of sugar-Stanleys dancing in my head, but there's a difference between hopes and expectations. And in this case, the difference lies in how far I fall when things don't work out. I'm not saying that I don't believe they can win it all, I'm just saying that I'm not ready to expect them to do it, and I probably won't be raising my expectations that high until the third round, at least. To do so on the third of March seems like setting myself up for disappointment. And if there's one thing the Sabres don't need help with, it's setting their fans up for disappointment.

Let me just close this post by stating for the record that I'm not trying to tell anybody how to feel. As always, I fully respect the "whatever floats your boat" philophy of sport fandom, where feelings are often irrational and illogical, but never illegitimate. It's just that, from where I'm sitting, it seems like we have a hell of a ride ahead of us, and my feeling is, "Why spoil it?"

Weighing In

Sorry about the long silence, but travel and social engagements have kept me too busy to blog recently. Today, though, my mom and I have vowed to do nothing but wrap presents, and watch The Muppet Christmas Carol, so I'm going to seize the opportunity to unload about something that's been clogging up my brain for too long.

I don't have much to say about the Sabres play at the moment that a simple "thumbs up" won't cover, so allow me to travel way back in time to re-visit an issue that has been pretty well covered by many blogs already. Just to refresh your memories:



You'll find the bulk of my reaction already expressed in the aforelinked posts, so I'm going to do my best not to be redundant, but there are two particular quotes that I want to respond to. The first comes from this article in The Buffalo News:

"I tried to hit [Kaleta] and missed a little bit," Ruutu told the Ottawa Citizen. "My shoulder hit his head and then his head hit the glass. That was really it. Not much you could do."

This is a quote I find akin to Alex Ovechkin's "Nobody can kill me" reaction to criticism of his reckless play. I tried to blog about that gem at the time, but as always when I try to articulate my hatred of Ovie, I was too blinded by crimson rage to manage anything more than incoherent sputtering. The words I couldn't get out then are the same I have to offer Ruutu now: In my opinion, this kind of attitude doesn't belong in hockey. This is one of the most dangerous sports in the world. It's a sport where grown (sometimes over-grown) men slam into each other while traveling at top speeds on a low-friction surface. It's a sport where players swing fiberglass sticks around to propel a piece of frozen galvanized rubber through the air at speeds approaching 100mph. Not to mention the fact that everyone has razor blades strapped to the bottoms of their feet. Someone certainly can kill you, Ovie. Even though it hasn't happened yet, it's not that hard to imagine. In fact, I almost have a harder time imagining how it hasn't happened yet. What I'm trying to say is hockey is the last place you want to play fast and loose with safety. This is a sport where unavoidable, freak accidents have ended in arterial spatter on the ice. So, in my opinion, "I missed," just doesn't cut it. Personally, I don't buy that Ruutu wasn't aiming for Kaleta's head, but even if he wasn't, he shouldn't get off suspension-free just because he says there was nothing he could do. Accidents do happen, but you should have better control of your body than that or you shouldn't be playing hockey. Period. And don't tell me it's that hard, because most other players seem to manage. If they didn't, players like Ruutu, Neil, and--yes--Kaleta wouldn't stand out the way they do.

I understand that that's not entirely fair--after all, not all styles of play were created equally in this regard. Tim Connolly not properly controlling his body will more likely result in him losing the puck than someone lying unconscious on the ice. So I understand that while some players are able to stay away from the line between safe and reckless play altogether, others are forced to toe it in order to perform their role on the team. So how are they supposed to stay toeing the right side of the line? Well, that leads me to my next quote:

I'll be worried about Kaleta's quality of life after hockey when he starts showing an ounce of concern for his fellow players' quality of life after hockey.

This was a comment to the blog post from Top Shelf that I linked to above. I don't really have that much of a problem with this statement, given that it's coming from a fan. As much as I like to think that I would still be uneasy about this hit even if Kaleta had been on the giving end of it, if it had been Neil or Avery on the receiving end, I probably would be less upset. But that's the entitlement of a fan. We get to have subjective judgment and hold unfounded and unjustly long grudges. The problem is that this seems to be the same stance the league is taking on this issue, and they don't have the same entitlements. They have obligations to keep the rules of the game well-defined and to keep the players of the game safe, and they don't get to ignore those obligations just because it's "just" Kaleta lying on the ice. Heather did an excellent job explaining why, when it comes to issues of safety, all players are created equal, regardless of their talent level--although it's really sad to think that the league needs a blogger to point that out to them. Letting goons and bruisers beat up on each other as much as they like as long as they don't touch the "important" players doesn't count as fair strategy. I'm not sure it counts as strategy at all, actually. Trusting players to police each other and trusting them to keep each other safe are almost entirely mutually exclusive, as it turns out, so the neutral authority is going to have to step in at some point. Like it or not, Kaleta showing respect for other players' safety starts with the league forcing other players to respect his. Until that happens, the vicious cycle of "a boarding for a boarding" will continue to leave the whole world with mushy brains.

Of course, it's not certain that more suspensions are the answer to cleaning up the game, especially with one of the league's premiere players going around telling the world that no amount of discipline is going to make him change his ways. But that's still no excuse for not trying.

One thing is for sure, though: everyone's looking forward to meeting the Sens on the day after Christmas, and right now I'm glad that I happen to have tickets. Here's hoping I'm still happy to have had them on the day after the day after Christmas.

By the way, about last night's game against the Capitals: I'm afraid that was all my fault. I forewent (if that's a word) watching the game in order to go see New Moon with my sister. That's a bold admission to make in a public forum, to be sure, but rest assured that we went in irony. I had planned on zipping through the game on DVR this morning, but it seems the Sabres took it upon themselves to try to play a game even worse than New Moon, in order to make me feel better about ditching them. I'm sure they didn't actually succeed, but I can't imagine watching a hockey game that even approached that level of awfulness was a pleasant experience. So I'd like to apologize to everyone whose night I ruined. Believe me, it will not happen again.

Jose and the Pussycats

You're not as scary as you think you are, Caps.

Now that's what I call a rebound game.

Following a game where even our otherwise rock solid goaltending looked weak, the Sabres put together perhaps their most complete effort of the season to shut out a talent-heavy team looking for their seventh straight win. The offense was creating and capitalizing, the defense was all over the ice, and Ryan Miller was the Ryan Miller we've come to expect him to be. As always it's impossible to tell if this version of the Sabres is going to stick around, but if ever we needed them to show up, it was after Monday night's ugly loss. It feels good to feel good about this team again, if only for a little while.

I'm not sure if this was entirely the Sabres doing or not, but Washington's best players were totally invisible last night. I literally just had to google Alex Semin to make sure that he wasn't injured, because I don't remember hearing his name a single time last night. Of course Ovie was talked about a lot (when is he ever not?), but he never really got anything going offensively. In fact, most of the replays he was involved in showed a good move made by a Sabre to defend him. In any case, the Caps never made me feel any kind of doom, impending or otherwise, despite having been led to believe that I should be shaking in my boots.

Of course, no Ovechkin replay sticks out more prominently in my mind than the one showing him taking a dive on a trip by none other than Derek Roy. I sure won't be forgetting that irony in a hurry. I'm disappointed that there's no clip to be found of it yet, because I so wanted to post it (not to mention watch it over and over and over). But in my search I found this:



It's quite similar, in that the trip is just as blatant, the embellishment just as obvious, and the broadcast team (though thankfully not the officials) just as oblivious. On second thought, maybe I won't be watching it over and over and over. The icky pirouette combined with the announcers' unjustifiable indignation is making me feel a little bit like looking for the fucking phone.

To close on a happier thought, seeing everyone on the ice tower over Nathan Gerbe made me think of this:



I'm glad the game didn't end up going south, but if it had, I would have greatly enjoyed posting a picture of Gerbe with the excuse: "I do not, for one, think that the problem was that the team was down. I think that the problem may have been that there was a "hockey player" on the ice that was in danger of being crushed by Derek Roy!" Maybe I'll put that extrapolated moment of happiness behind breakable glass for a future emergency.

Freaky Friday

Well, that was an odd game. Something about playing on a Friday afternoon apparently sends the Sabres into bizarro world. It was an entertaining, emotional, and hard-fought win, but it rarely made any sense. Here are some unorganized thoughts:

-This game was the very picture of inconsistency. One minute both teams looked fundamentally unfamiliar with the game of hockey, as things like creating pressure and maintaining puck possession seemed to elude them, and the next minute Tim Connolly was firing a perfectly placed shot past Emery, or Drew Stafford was maneuvering around him and his defenders like they were pylons. (By the way, was I the only one who thought there was something familiar about the way Emery tried to stop that first goal? [There you go, Mom, consider that your Pommer praise for the day.]) I spent a good portion of the game confused about what exactly I was watching, but it seemed that every time I was about to comment that the Sabres looked incompetent, they managed to pull a goal or some other smart play out of thin air. Very disconcerting.

-Inconsistency was the name of the game with the officials, as well, although that's not really anything new. Still, in a game that certainly needed a lot of enforced discipline, the refs seemed to invent tripping penalties out of nothing, and downplay actual dangerous plays. On the one hand Kaleta gets a major and a game misconduct for a hit that looked more unfortunate than malicious, and on the other hand Richards gets a mere two minutes for popping Myers' helmet off with the blade of his stick like it was a bottle cap. Not to mention the clear high-sticking incident later in the game when the Flyer player (I admit I don't remember who was involved) dutifully took himself to the box only to be told he wasn't receiving a penalty. I'm not one for blaming officials for the outcome of a game, and I'm doing that here (not least of all because I don't have any outcome to complain about), but I do think the officials have a duty to dictate the rules in a coherent way, and they were doing a rather haphazard job of that last night.

-About that Kaleta hit. Despite the way I characterized it, I have no problem with the call. As far as I'm concerned, any hit from behind into the boards should always earn a game ejection, just because that's too dangerous a situation to be ambivalent about. But I do wonder about placing all of the blame for such hits squarely on the hitter. I'm not saying the hittee should be assessed a penalty, but it seems pretty clear to me that Ross put himself in danger by turning into the boards when he felt someone bearing down on him. For Kaleta's part, it looked like he committed to the check just as Ross was turning, and while he may have been able to slow up (having never played hockey, I can't really say), I don't think it was his intention to hit Ross from behind. But by rightfully taking gray-area intention out of the equation, the refs have created a troubling scenario where players can get an opponent ejected from the game with just a well-timed pirouette. I'm not sure I have a remedy for that situation, except to hope that no one is dumb enough to let the promise of a five minute power play tempt them into a potentially career- not to mention brain-damaging position.

-As for the Richards/Myers incident, I can't see why that wasn't as clear a cut-and-dry call. Maybe a game misconduct would have been a little extreme, but I would have liked to see at least a major penalty called. Intentional or not, it was more dangerous than your average high sticking, and I wanted a punishment that fit the crime. If the refs intended to send the message with the Kaleta call, they mised the opportunity to send one there as well. Control your body; control your stick. It's pretty simple.

-Even without the rough and tumble play--not to mention the flaring tempers and rash of scrums--there was plenty of accidental mayhem to go around. Taking a shot to the face is never good, but I imagine a one-timed slapshot is the worst kind to get: apparently loss-of-seven-teeth, gain-of-seventy-five-stitches kind of bad. Likewise, heading feet-first into the boards is never a good way to go, but Rivet's looked especially bad, even before the replay was shown. Fortunately Rivet seems to have siphoned off some of Vanek's feet-first-into-the-boards luck, as his injury isn't as severe as it initially seemed. Which is certainly good news, considering my dad's professional opinion after seeing the replay was that Rivet had blown out his knee if nothing else. Too bad it doesn't look like Gaustad will be as lucky.

-It was an ugly game all around, even in the intermission, when Tim Kennedy ruined a perfectly adorable father-son piece by refusing to wear his teeth. Here's a hint, Tim, if the occasion seems to call for a suit, it generally calls for you to not have big gaps in your mouth. The least you could have done was worn a black suit to at least try to coordinate.

Tonight's the first time since coming home that I'll be able to watch a game in real time and in HD, and it'll be the last time before I return to the pixellated hockey wasteland that is Minnesota. So here's hoping the Sabres can manage a pretty one tonight, for me and for my relatives that will be attending the game. And I'm assuming it will have to be the Sabres who bring the pretty, if the Hurricanes are as bad as I've heard. Let's not give them their first road win tonight, Sabres, ok? Ok.

Hey, Where's my Cash?

'Cause that sure was a clunker.

Warning: game in photo was less exciting than it appears.

At least I've learned my lesson about admitting my optimism. It wasn't even just my last post; I went through most of the game believing, despite the effort I was seeing, that the Sabres were somehow going to pull it off in the end. It wasn't a conscious decision, just a certain sense of the energy and flow of the game. Roby seemed to be there with me in the first intermission, when he pointed out that while the game seemed pretty even so far, we would really see the fruits of Buffalo's labor once the third period rolled around. He was right, but not exactly in the way that he meant to be right. What Roby and I sensed as the Sabres puting off winning the game turned out to be the Sabres just not planning on winning the game in the first place.

Or not. Maybe the Sabres really did plan on getting around to winning for most of the game, but then decided they didn't have the energy to follow through with their plan.

So either my hockey-dar is off, or the Sabres are lazy. Since this is my blog, I'm going to go with the latter (to make it fair, if the Sabres want to call me names in their blog, they're more than entitled), but either way it made for a thoroughly unenjoyable hockey game, at least in retrospect. Any potential excitement or pressure the Sabres may have generated throughout was ultimately erased by their lack of finish, both on individual chances as well as on the game as a whole. Just when I decide to praise them for the opposite, they fall back on their old tricks of giving away a game in the last few minutes, and in the biggest of ways. There's not even anywhere to point the finger, since the collapse was, as Lindy said, "a team effort," ultimately producing an overall impression of blandness with a strong aftertaste of crap.

Though actually it's just a concidence, I want the Sabres to think of me not watching either game this weekend as a conscious punishment. I hope they sit there, think about what they've done, and decide to change it.

Don't Get Me Wrong

I realize that my last couple of posts here make it seem like I'm all doom and gloom about this team right now, but don't be fooled. After seeing two strong games and hearing about another, the Doldrums are festering far behind me now. It seems like the same can be said of the Sabres (with the possible exception of Pominville--it remains to be seen whether he has pulled himself together to my liking), who came off last weekend's decided lack of luster with square shoulders and straight screwed-on heads all around.

The Edmonton and Calgary games were hardly the prettiest games I've ever seen, but they were wins. They were types of wins, in fact, that it seems like this team hasn't been able to pull off in some seasons. If the biggest insult to the 2007-2009 Sabres was that they were gutless, then these two games (Calgary in particular) were undeniable displays of guts. Going up against the notoriously tougher Western Conference, the Sabres didn't let themselves get pushed around or intimidated off the puck. When they were shoved, they shoved back, to the point that their game against the Flames began to resemble a barrage of scrums and almost-but-not-quite highlight-reel goals in constant alternation. And instead of wearing thin from the effort of trying to keep up and allowing the Flames to pull away late in the game, they matched them through 65 minutes and met them in the shootout. Shootout wins are never my favorite, but this one did have a little dramatic flair about it since the game had been so hard fought by both sides. (I suppose that should make the fact that one of them lost remarkably unfair, but I don't really feel like getting into that right now. My vitriol levels are too low for me to accurately talk about my feelings for the shootout.) All in all, even though the Sabres put me to sleep (literally) with their early second period snoozeout, it was a game that they fought hard to win and that they deserved to win. Any time I see that from this team it's exciting. Maybe someday it will stop feeling new, too.

If the Calgary game was about grit, then the Edmonton game was about control. Sure, it got a little wonky in the middle, and the MacArthur on Reddox hit was obviously anything but controlled, but the Sabres started out with a firm grip on the play, and ended on a dominant note with a 5-minute penalty kill and successfully holding off the Oiler tie-up attempt. If you can't show up for a full 60 minutes, then those are the minutes you want to make sure you cover, and that's just what the Sabres did. It wasn't a perfect game, but it got the job done with as little drama as possible. That 5-minute PK was a reassuring sign from the Sabres that even when things get a little hairy, they know what they need to do. How many times did we see hairiness scare them in the opposite direction last season?

As I said, I didn't get to see the game in Philly, but I have a hard time imagining that toughness wasn't involved, given that the Flyers added names like Pronger and Emery to their infamy this off-season. Eye-witness reports have told me no differently, and that's a doubly encouraging sign considering that, with the game they played the night before, fatigue must have been a factor.

There are still many questions waiting to be answered about this iteration of the Sabres: Will Vanek get visible again? Will anyone show up when Miller can't? Will Timmy stay healthy? (Who am I kidding, we all know the answer to that already.) But for right now it seems like this team has finally figured out that there's more to the game than scoring goals when you can and hoping for the best when you can't. That, more than anything, gives me hope that they have discarded their old binary of either playing offensively (as in lighting the lamp), or playing offensively (as in I am offended).

And with the Panthers in town tonight, the Sabres find themselves with another prime opportunity to prove they've broken an old habit. Let's see if they've learned how not to play down to their competition.

Let's Go, Buffalo!

Point of Reference

If I was somehow wrong, and the Red Wings are no longer one of the best teams in the league, I don't want to know about it.

I've been trying to write about Tuesday night's game for a couple of days now, but all attempts have so far ended in a long trip to the backspace key. I have something very distinct that I want to say, but I want to be very careful about how I say it, for fear of jinxes or ending up looking like a feel-good fool--I'm not sure which. I suspect I'm one of many Sabres fans with this strangely immutable and yet inexpressible feeling, but I think I'm going to be one of the few to throw caution to the wind and let the expressing win out over the muting. Here goes:

I think the Sabres have changed.

And here comes the urge to backpedal. Four games is not a lot of games. At this point last season, the Sabres were 4-0 and we all know how that turned out. Still, if I ignore the murky future which may sweep in and ruin this new high, my gut tells me that something is different about this team. Something that has nothing to do with talent.

Talent has never been this team's problem. Even in the lowest times it was there, albeit invisible, dormant, flickering just below the surface of jerseys marked Vanek, Pominville, Tallinder. The Sabres have developed, over the past two seasons (and really more if we're being honest) a maddening peek-a-boo balancing act of revealing just enough of their talent to be sensed, but never enough to be realized. Who can say if they're done playing that game yet, but they certainly weren't playing it against Detroit.

Tuesday night's game wasn't a game decided by chances or bounces. It was a game in which everything went right for the Sabres because they made sure everything went right. They took control, dominated, embarrassed. The speed of play, especially in the second period, tells you most of what you need to know. The pace was slow without being lazy or sluggish. It was patient, comfortable, fearless. Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't those trademarks of the team we were playing? The Sabres beat the Red Wings at their own game and made it look easy. There's a sentence I didn't expect to be typing this season.

Call me crazy or rash, but I think there's a mentality shift happening on this team. They seem (and of all the words in this post, this is the one I'm finding the most trouble getting out) mature. Only time will tell, of course, but I'm not going to let fear of what's to come keep me from embracing the thrill of right now.

I was hesitant about posting this, wavering between wanting to retain plausible deniability should I turn out to be wrong, and wanting to be able to say "I knew it all along" should I turn out to be right. Eventually, I decided that those weren't really relevant parameters. If this blog is about recording moments of fandom then I would be remiss to let this one pass by unnoticed, regardless of whether it pans out. It's my prerogative as a fan to say whatever I want. I don't have to be right; I get to believe. (And right now I believe in feel-good optimism. Maybe later I'll believe in cynicism again.)

In any case, tonight should give us another opportunity to gauge the 2009-2010 Sabres. Not only is Vanek out, but they're playing a winless team. Every Sabres fan is familiar with their tendency to play up or down to their opponent's level accordingly, and if the Red Wings helped us plot the new upper bound for this teams level of play, then the Islanders--of all teams-- should give an indication of the new lower bound. Here's a hint, Sabres: the strategy is the same. Take initiative.

Thoughts

As I prepare my ritual sacrifices to the Internet Gods in the hopes that they will bless me with uninterrupted access to tonight's game, I have a few thoughts running through my head:

--Am I the only one who sees Sekera's fortuitous injury as suspicious? He just happens to get injured pretty much the moment Lydman seems ready to come back, so that no one has to make tough decisions about what to do with Myers or anybody else? I'm not buying it. I might be mistaken, but wasn't he not even hit? He just came out after intermission and "felt pain in his side"? I suspect foul play. Either he took one for the team, or someone discreetly pummeled him in the ribs while he was napping between periods. Someone's lying, and consider it being looked into.

--Yowza, I knew the Sabres were having trouble scoring even though they were getting plenty of chances, but I didn't know they were literally first in the league in shots and last in the league in goals. Maybe they should do something about that, huh? And before you say anything, Sabres, the something you should do is not taking fewer shots. So don't even try it.

--I'm not sure what to make of Lindy's reaction to the Sabres' lack of finish. On the one hand, I think he should be more concerned, but on the other hand, we're still winning. So, I guess if it's not broke yet, don't fix it. Yet. One thing he said stuck out to me, though: "We've missed empty nets, had pucks go off feet by empty nets, pucks slide through sets of legs going through creases that the goalie isn't there." Wow, I was so busy rejoicing about Hecht returning to old Yo-Yo form that I didn't notice that apparently everyone has returned to old Yo-Yo form. A team full of Yo-Yos is... not so great, as it turns out.

--Speaking of Yo-Yo, though, I'm going to be paying extra attention to his line tonight. I'm inclined to be outraged that Lindy broke up what seemed to be a pretty fantastic (not to mention attractive) line, but I'm going to restrain my outrage until I actually see what they can do. Kennedy might not be a Goose in the looks department (he's made me realize that the phrase "less attractive version of Soupy" can actually be uttered truthfully), but I guess he deserves to be given half a chance.

--Tonight will be, for me, the first real measuring pole of the season. The Habs have made so many roster changes since I last saw them that they were a bit of an unknown quantity, and I have vague conceptions but no hard evidence of the Coyotes and Predators being weak teams, but the Red Wings I do know a thing or two about. I could list a lot of things about them that everyone already knows, but long story short I know they're good. I know watching them play in the Winter Classic last season made me want to curl up into a ball and cry. And I suspect the way the Sabres play against them tonight will tell me a lot about where they are and how much they've grown. Here's hoping they can measure up.

--Now, everyone knows I don't write this thing to be read, but four posts in just over a week with nary a comment in sight makes Gambler a self-conscious blogger. Anyone out there? Hello? Echo?

A Family- and Sports-Filled Weekend

This was a big weekend of celebration for the extended Gambler clan that included my grandmother's birthday and an early Thanksgiving. (There's always room for another Thanksgiving in the year, is what I always say.) As is always the way with my family--which charts a vast map of sport- and team-allegiances--sports was the backdrop against which our family gathering was held. We went from college football (Go Cocks!), to hockey, to football, to baseball, ensuring that no one had to miss out on the game that they wanted just because they loved their family.

Unless you were a Sabres fan, of course. The Sabres game had the distinct misfortune of not only playing in fuzzy standard definition opposite the invitingly crisp HD of the Florida/LSU game, but also of playing on the evening of my grandmother's birthday celebration, when the TV eventually became occupied by a family portrait tribute slideshow, which watched like a Titanic-length presentation of Awkward Family Photos: The Movie. I'm not saying that it wasn't more interesting than watching the game would have been, but it was just about as long, and we tuned back in just in time to see the Grier goal and the mad scramble to the finish. I can't say I was encouraged by the raw panic I saw, or the apparent lack of scoring that I didn't get to see, but I'm not in a place to analyse the game any more than that. I'm going to accept the win as a win and move on.

The next afternoon was fully occupied by the NFL. As is tradition, my family had a football pool, but the day's real competition seemed to be a quest to prove whose favorite team was sucking the hardest, with the grand prize being a perverse kind of bragging rights that we all know so well. In a group that includes fans of the Redskins, Raiders, and Titans, there seemed to be room for argument, but after the Bills showed up the Browns in what looked like a 60-minute head-to-head Keystone Kops audition, no one else really had a leg to stand on. For my part, I was entertained by the antics. I feel a great amount of sympathy for die-hard Bills fans, but it was hard for me not to laugh like an idiot while watching the Bills fight to gain the line of scrimmage the way most teams fight to gain the first down line. I had no idea it was possible to be so pathetic at football. My advice to Bills fans is to laugh, a) because it's better than crying, and b) because, come on, it's funny.

All in all, it was a fun weekend packed with family and other, less awesome sports. It was a faint reminder that hockey might end up being a gateway sport after all, and that my potential to turn into a football fan is present. If the Bills ever get a bandwagon again--if their bandwagon ever stops being a wheel-less pile of two-by-fours perpetually parked in the dump--I expect I will be there to jump on it.

Tomorrow night, finally, hopefully, back to hockey.

Now More Than Ever

Predictably, I didn't get to see the game on Saturday night, but rest assured that the blogosphere has let me know all about it. Outrage is typically pretty prolific. To be honest, after all the bellyaching I've been reading over the past couple of days about how soft this game showed the Sabres to be, I was surprised when I finally took a look at the game highlights, which I'm kind of ashamed to admit I didn't do until just now. From the way the situation has been painted by a lot of people, I was expecting to see a timid and tentative team backing away from a Ranger onslaught for fear of getting roughed up or called for a penalty. I'll admit, in the moment after the hit behind the net there was nothing I wanted to see more than someone coming up to grab a hold of Gomez and maybe punch him in the face once or twice, but my disappointment doesn't extend much beyond that.  Don't get me wrong, I certainly get why people are calling the team soft, I just don't understand why it's worth getting so worked up over. It's not like the they frittered away a three goal lead and a chance to move up in the standings because they're soft. In fact, it's clear the Sabres kept their focus, and while they didn't start a brawl, they didn't completely fold, despite the fact that they'd just watched their star goaltender hobble off the ice. I think they deserve some credit for that, considering how easy it could have been to panic, let alone how prone to distraction we've known this team to be. 

As far as failing to send a message goes, I'm not particularly outraged. I loved the Ottawa brawl as much as anyone, but that was a completely different scenario standings-wise, and while it's true that starting something wouldn't have necessarily meant a loss, it's also true that it definitely wouldn't have brought Miller back. So why risk the game and the season with penalties and suspensions? To send a message that you can't rough up our goalie and get away with it? Everyone knows the Sabres let that ship sail a long time ago, and I doubt punching in Gomez's teeth really would have made future opponents think twice about getting in our crease. That's obviously a big problem in and of itself, but I think it's too little too late at this point to bother getting so het up about. Also, I'm particularly averse to the argument of "It was dumb to retaliate at the time, and risk a 5-on-3, but why not later when the lead was secure?" If you have to pencil in obligatory message-sending time, doesn't that make it a fundamentally perfunctory and hollow gesture? Instead of honorably standing up for your teammate, you end up being a bully. As much as I enjoy the odd scuffle born out of passion, that kind of eye-for-an-eye bloodlust doesn't do it for me, and I'm puzzled by all the fans who apparently think it's a crisis and an indication of the team's gutlessness that they failed to participate in that theatre. Personally, I'd much rather hit the Rangers where it counts and where it hurts: on the scoreboard and in the standings.

All in all, I agree with Kate: we and the Sabres have bigger things to worry about. Like playing the Ducks tonight. Talk about a litmus test for how soft we are. Anaheim isn't the Stanley Cup team they used to be, but they're still pretty pushy, undisciplined douches, and in light of that I want to remind all the Sabres of this helpful diagram:

This still goes double for you, Tim Connolly.

Let's not let this woulda shoulda coulda retaliation debate obscure the real crisis here: Thomas Vanek is out, Ryan Miller is out, and we need healthy bodies. Now more than ever.

Bruins @ Sabres: A Ten-Word Preview

There's no way it can be worse than last time. 

(Programming notice: I know I've been AWOL again recently, but I have a good excuse: I decided to ignore the Sabres this past weekend. Partly because my sneaky, free internet ways failed me and partly because I really needed a break after the way the last Boston game upset me. Despite the discouraging text messages I received about the scores this weekend, tonight I find myself somewhat refreshed and ready for more hockey, even if it means more heartache. Unfortunately, I'm going to be spending this evening flying between Saint Paul and Nashville to join my family for the holiday, so whatever happens in tonight's game, for better or worse, I won't be able to see it. And since I'll be spending the weekend with mostly non-hockey-appreciating family members, I'm not sure I'll get to see either of those games either. But stick around. I'll have something to say soon, regardless of whether I've seen the games or not. Promise. Happy Turkey!)

I Heard Tell There's Some Hockey Going On Tonight?

Leave it to me to return to bloggerly form just in time to have a busy weekend, miss both games, and then sit through a four day layoff. It's like I go out of my way to keep myself from blogging. Anyway, barring any emergencies or interruptions in my illegally-obtained internet feed, I'll be around for tonight's game, and might even have something to say afterwards.

I have to say, I'm not feeling too optimistic. Even aside from the fact that the Sabres are coming off a long break after two lackluster performances, that they apparently now love giving struggling teams the jumpstart they've been looking for, and that we haven't beaten the Blues in something like 12 years, it just doesn't feel like a good day. Currently my room is sitting somewhere around 4o˚F, the illness I thought I was finally over returned this morning with a wicked cough, and what had at midnight last night been an insanely idyllic snowglobe-esque winter landscape here on campus had by morning light turned into a slushy, foggy, overcast mess. So I'm just not feeling the mojo of this day.

Then again, these just might be the perfect circumstances for watching the Sabres. If they win, then I can forget about all that crap. And if they lose, well, it's not like I can feel much crummier.

Let's Go, Buffalo, I guess. 

Late to the Party

But what else is new, eh? I may as well be posting this entry from the moon for how in the loop I am.

The playoffs are still going strong, but that's not what I came here to break my ever-more-frequent blogger silence for. The big story in the blogosphere this week is the official smack-down laid on internet writers of all shapes, sizes, and calibers on the Bob Costas show on HBO. (Bob Costas has a show on HBO? Who knew? Well, now the entire internet does. Well played, indeed, Bob.) Buzz Bissinger, famed sports writer, author of the book Friday Night Lights, and thereby the indirect creator of my newest TV obsession (so good!), endeavored to set a Guinness World Record for incredulous sputtering when matched up against Deadspin creator and one of the fancier pantsed bloggers Will Leitch for a little "discussion." And then some random football player was along for the ride. Many other bloggers have already beat me to it, and did a delightful job, but as someone who has been known to, and may again at some point, aspire to write for a living, I felt the need to weigh in.

The sports media takes itself way too seriously. I understand that sports writing enhances the experience of sports, and has been an essential part of the sports landscape for many, many years. I understand that these writers have worked hard to get to the point they have. I certainly understand that good writing is an art form to be appreciated and treasured. But credentialed journalists didn't invent good writing, and they won't be the last to discover it, so pretending to the throne of Ruler of All that is Good and Worthwhile in the Sphere of Writing is not only an insanity, but also, frankly, an insult to the craft they practice. Discrediting an entire group of writers based on a technicality--that their writing appears on a computer screen instead of in a newspaper, or that they share their space with a few bad eggs (to which I say, who doesn't?)--is ignorance, and the unmasked, intolerant vehemence with which Bissinger lashes out against anyone who dares take a different approach to writing about sports than the one he himself took is an embarrassment to his industry. And we're supposed to buy that bloggers are the only cruel ones? I've only been aware of the sports blogosphere for a little under a year, but I can tell you right now that you're bound to find more single-minded dedication to insult, humiliation, and cruelty in one Bucky Gleason column about Sabres management than in all the blogs I regularly read combined. (Unless those blogs happen to be posting about a Bucky Gleason column, and then all bets are off on the cruelty thing.) And yes, I'm sure there are corners of the sports blogging universe that fit Bissinger's description of stupidity and profane uselessness (it is the internet after all), but those are corners that I simply don't visit. And anyway what's wrong with doling out credit and blame where it's due? We fans may not be unbiased, and we don't pretend to be, but we are agenda-less; we're accountable only to ourselves and our readers, no bosses to please and no deadlines to meet. We get to write exactly what we want, nothing more, nothing less. What's so wrong about us publicly hashing out our opinions, thoughts and feelings about the game we love? Isn't that what sports is all about? Is it just because we decided to use a media (writing) that journalists thought was specifically reserved for them and them alone?

That's the real problem I'm having with this whole thing. I don't want to generalize journalists into a group, but in this clip Bissinger was certainly acting as though sports exists only for him, for the media. The games are only played so that journalists can write about them, and they can go down in the history books to be read about and admired later. I hate to break this to him, but that's not what sports is. At the end of the day, sports is an entertainment industry, and thus exists for the fans. It exists to give the people of one city, one region, one country something to cheer about, and suffer through. And just because we've suddenly found a more efficient method to cheer and suffer together--a method that that despicably doesn't include paper of any kind--doesn't mean we want to get you and your colleagues fired, Buzz. You professionals have your purpose. Leitch didn't argue that, and I won't either. I don't know anyone who would. You, by definition, have something we fans don't: access, an insider's perspective. And that's something that's had value to the sports media for a long time. But is it so bad that suddenly the fan's perspective is gaining value in the sports media, too? Is that really taking something away from you? Are you really so afraid of it that you're pulling out ludicrous parallels between what you do with sports and what Woodward and Bernstein did with Watergate, as though that's going to prove anything other than that you have a grandiose opinion of yourself? I mean, yeah, you're all about digging up the truth, but come on. The truth about Watergate was an issue of national scandal, and the "truth" about sports is an issue of who actually screwed up the contract negotiations. Watergate would classify under the "Things of Actual Importance" tag over at The Willful Caboose. (A tag, which, by the way, through its mere existence and seldom usage perfectly illustrates why I love that blog. Frivolity isn't necessarily the enemy of worth, as anybody who has read Katebits' writing can tell you.) Sports, as much as I love it, is not a thing of actual importance. That's not to say that the reporting of the truth in sports isn't valuable, but it's not the be all end all of the sports experience, and it shouldn't be. There should room for opinion and interpretation. There should be room for fans.

The reason Bissinger had such a hard time completing his final thought--some vague insult about Leitch not wanting the facts to inhibit him--is because, I guess, Bissinger has forgotten what it means to be a sports fan, since I trust he was one, at least at some point. It's not that facts inhibit us, its that they don't so much matter to us. If sports fandom were a pursuit of fact instead of a pursuit of passion, we'd all be Red Wings fans and we'd all own Crosby jerseys. Well, except that we would all be football fans and no one would even watch hockey. In short, there'd be no point in even being a fan if all that mattered were the facts. But people like Bissinger and Costas are too caught up in thinking of bloggers as the "new journalists," and all the threats that that label entails, to really recognize us for what we are: fans writing for the fans. We're not a replacement, we're a supplement. And yeah, sometimes we're unreasonable, and sometimes we say "fuck" too much, but I ask you, what's the point of being a sports fan if it's not an excuse to be unreasonable and say "fuck" too much?

All I have to say is that if talented sports journalists are really that threatened by the idea of the voice of the fan taking away their readership, maybe they should jump into the meritocracy themselves. Degree or no degree, you have to write something interesting if you want people to read, and if your readers prefer something written by some clown with no pants on living in his parents' basement, whose fault is that, really? Maybe instead of arguing you should adapt, before the only one left to hear your incredulous sputtering is you.

Visual Aids

Okay, even though I didn't get to see the game against Anaheim the other night, I'm going to assume, from the complete lack of "OMG, did you see the way Connolly's head just split open like that?" commentary, that my last attempt to communicate through diagrams was a success. This is a heartening discovery, because the Sabres and I need to have a serious talk, and like Heather B., I'm hoping the boys are visual learners.

Alright, Sabres, I know you guys aren't very good at focusing these days (Pommers? Pommers! Stop chewing on those slippers and pay attention!), so I'll try to make this as simple and easy to understand as possible. First of all, I know you're in California. I know it's warm and sunny and Buffalo is cold and snowy. I know that if I were in Cali right now I'd certainly be relaxing and enjoying myself. But I don't get paid to play hockey.


You know, I've heard skates don't work so well on sand. So get back to the rink, stop trying to film your own version of Weezer's "Beverly Hills" video, and turn off the Mamas and the Papas. Get serious.


Luckily, you guys should already be in San Jose, where I've been assured there's nothing to distract you, aside from a giant, interactive monopoly board.


So, if there are no more questions about what you shouldn't be doing, let's get started on the things you should most definitely be doing. Okay, from the hour I wasted on your game against the Kings last night, it seems to me that you need to be introduced to something. This:


is a puck. Does it seem familiar now? Once upon a time, you knew what it was, but I guess there's something about that California air. Anyway, the whole point with the puck, as maybe you'll remember, is to put it:


in the net. Uh, oh. You guys look confused. Okay, okay, I'll back up. It's probably a good idea to get the puck on your stick first, and then, once you're ready, maybe get it onto a teammate's stick, and then eventually get it into the net. Just so we're absolutely clear, having possession of the puck should look something like this:


Just a reminder, since you guys seemed pretty confused the other night. Now this part is very important, so listen carefully: In order to get the puck into the net, you have to shoot it at the net. I know, I know, this is all very confusing, and I don't have a visual for you, since it's hard to show what a shot looks like with a still image. Just ask Lindy to help you out here.

These are all just a few things you should think about before tomorrow's game. Feel free to print these things out, hang them in your locker stalls, whatever you think will help you most. Because trust me. You need it.

Apparently the MSG affiliate where my aunt and uncle live has decided to pretend these west coast games don't exist (can you blame them?), so I'm not going to be able to watch tomorrow night. I don't mean to imply that I'm some sort of difference maker, but I think we both know how miserable your record is when I'm not watching. But if you can do your best to break out of that habit and win one without me there, that would be great. You really owe us one.

For Crying Out Loud!

Listen Sabres, I know you love me, but I'm not your babysitter. Sometimes (just sometimes) I have a life and I'm not going to be around to watch every minute of every game. I'm sorry, but last night was just one of those nights. As I'm sure you know, I had to leave after the first period, and word on the street is that's when things started falling apart for you. Apparently the last 40 minutes were a mess of lackadaisical passing plays and purposeless skating. Frankly, I'm not having a hard time picturing it, because it sounds somewhat familiar. I don't think I have to tell you how disappointed I am to hear that you were misbehaving while I was gone. I expected better from you. Keep that up and you'll go straight to your room without supper, misters! And don't you even try to put the blame on me for leaving you guys alone. I went to go see a very meaningful and important movie about Nazi Germany. Can you compete with that? Plus, if you saw the way my GPA is nosediving*, you'd understand just how vital that German extra credit was for me. Sometimes you just have to buck up and carry on. Without me. Be strong, I know you can do it.

*Not true, Mom. I promise. I'm just trying to make the Sabres feel extra bad.

Well, that keeps the losses I've seen through to the end at a whopping one on the season. On the fan hand, it's nice that the Sabres are saving their suckitude for times when I'm not around to see it, but on the blogger hand, it's sort of handcuffing me. It's hard to write about their successes when the only thing I have to compare it to is the hearsay of their failures. Also, far better (not to mention more regular) bloggers than I are already tackling the analysis. So all I'll say is that I'm willing to give them a pass for this loss. There were a whole mess of excuses at their disposal--fifth game in eight days, lots of defensive injuries, we haven't won against the Blues in ten years, not to mention they don't suck any more--and most other people are saying they don't buy those. But I don't know, maybe I'm just too soft on them. They better prove themselves to me against Carolina on Saturday, though. Luckily for them, I've cleared my schedule already.

A few of words about Carolina: I hate them. I really, really do.

Last night MSG put together a really nice piece on Jay McKee (the long-time Sabre playing his first game in Buffalo since becoming a Blue) that I caught during the first intermission right before I headed out. It was really sweet to hear him talk about how he is always and forever a Western New Yorker, but what really caught my attention was the discussion about the what-ifs regarding the ECF series against Carolina. All the memories just came flooding back full force. Of course, Jay missed what would have been his very last game in a Buffalo sweater because of some freak bacterial infection in his leg. And of course, the Sabres lost that game and the series. All summer long Buffalo agonized over what could have been: McKee would have soaked up that extra ice time. McKee would have protected that one-goal lead with his life. McKee sure wouldn't have just left that puck lying around near his foot for Brind'Amour to pounce on. And who knows? Maybe it really would have been different. But it wasn't, and that was hard to come to terms with.

Last night Jay said of that injury, that one day he was soaring with excitement about the team and the prospect of a championship, and then a few hours later he was crippled and confused and on the phone trying to work out what had happened. It was a complete and utterly debilitating turn around. And all I could think was, that's what the loss of that series was like for me. It was like a kick in the stomach (or, I guess in this case, the leg). One minute I was dreaming big dreams of Cups and parades, thinking finally, this is it. This is the year we finally win one. And the next minute I was cleaning up the rubble. Just like Buffalonians do at the end of every season. Except for me, it was just the first time. As much as hockey was always around in Buffalo, it was during that series that my true fandom was forged, and within two weeks of its birth it got its first real test. Sure, I hate the Stars and the Flyers and the Leafs, and I'll never forget what the Senators or the Slag-Faced Whores did to me this summer, but it was the Carolina Hurricanes who served this fan her first real heartbreak. And for that I'll never forgive them. So give 'em hell on Saturday, Sabres. Or else.

Ding Dong the Play is Dead (And the Sabres are Alive Again)

Okay, Sabres, you're done losing now. Things were rough there for a bit, I know, but now everything should be all right again, see, because the cause of that terrible slump you were going through won't be a problem anymore. I'll explain.

The Sabres' recent losing streak was so bad that everyone seemed to have their own theories about what was going wrong. After a while it became apparent that they weren't just playing bad hockey or turning in half an effort, rather they seemed legitimately cursed. But by what? Top Shelf's Heather B. considered the fact that she'd had her Derek Roy wallpaper up for too long, but ultimately decided that this one was all on the Hockey Gods, while The Willful Caboose's Katebits started to get curious about Ryan Miller's conduct around the Cup that his baby brother brought home over the summer. But I don't think it was any of those things. I believe the Sabres were cursed, just like everything else in my life, by this godforsaken play I was in.

At first I thought my boys were just being considerate. They knew it would only deepen my homicidal rage coming home from rehearsal to find that I'd missed a really good hockey game as well, so they decided they'd better play like crap and take care of that problem for me. And it worked! I was almost happy to see those early losses, because it meant I wasn't missing out on anything by being trapped in rehearsal. But then things started to change. The Sabres started wanting to win, desperately trying to win, but it just wouldn't happen for them. I stopped being relieved and grateful and started getting frustrated and angry (about five games behind the rest of Sabres fandom) when I came home to loss after loss. And that's when I knew. That's when I knew the losses weren't on purpose, and they weren't coincidence; they were all a part of Lysistrata's never-ceasing campaign to suck all of the fun out of my life.

The more I thought about it, the more it made sense: I mean, it had already ruined my moods, my grades, and my social life, why not go after my hockey team as well? But if you're still not swayed, here are some convincing statbits (this is about as statbitty as DH will ever get, so don't get used to it): On nights I didn't have rehearsal or a performance, the Sabres went 5-2-0, with the two losses being the first games against the Islanders--which, let's be honest, they weren't going to win anyway. They just had too many dues to pay for last year. On nights I was stuck on stage, they went 1-8-1 (not including Friday's win against Montreal, which I'll get to in a second). Defense was pretty much a push, as opponents scored 21 and 28 goals in the 7 non-rehearsal and 10 rehearsal nights, respectively, but the effect on the offense was alarming. While I was suffering, the scorers were struggling, managing just 13 goals. They scored more than twice in a game just once, the 4-3 overtime loss to the Lightning, and were shut out three times. Otherwise they piled on 32 goals in three fewer games, including only one instance where they netted fewer than four. That's some pretty persuasive evidence of evil, if you ask me.

But it's all over now, and the Sabres are already getting back on track. I thought their 4-1 win on Friday, before the official end of the curse last night, showed great force of will, especially considering it was one of the most heinously awful nights of the play ever. It seems that already their heads are in the right place and they know what it's going to take to turn their season around. It won't be easy, but I have faith. If they could overcome a curse as powerful as this one on a night like that, they can overcome anything.

Just to be clear, I'm not saying that I personally am some sort of good luck charm. There were a couple of nights in there where I was rehearsal-free, but still missed the game for one reason or another, so I can't take any of the credit. I'm just trying to tell you where you should direct your blame. I'd like to sincerely apologize to everyone--players and fans alike--for ever accepting a role in this show. If I'd known ahead of time how much pain it would cause, I never would have done it. I'll do my best to make sure it won't happen again.

But beware Sabres. Your excuse is gone. Any losses from here on out? They're all on you.

It's good to be back!

Bucky Misses Me

Hey all! Sorry about all the silence lately, but I'm currently up to my eyeballs in rehearsal for the single most painful show I've ever been involved with. And that's not even considering the fact that it's making me miss out on hockey and blogging. Seriously, don't get me started on all of the things I hate about it, or I'll be here forever. Instead, let me get started (again) on all the things I hate about Bucky Gleason! Yay! (I know I've spent a lot of time complaining about this show if complaining about Bucky Gleason feels like a refreshing change of pace.)

Apparently Bucky misses me, because he wrote an absolute gem for the paper this weekend that he just knew I wouldn't be able to resist. Well, Bucky, what can I say? You got me. You know just what I hate! I'll be brief:

The article starts off okay enough, in that Bucky recognizes that a 5-5 record isn't the end of the world, and he actually manages to use the word "talent" in conjunction with something that rhymes with neither "Schmury" nor "Schmiere." But then there's this: "For all the ESPN plays of the day that fans stored in their memory banks, it was the Sabres' supreme confidence on foreign turf that often gave them a 1-0 lead before the opening faceoff." I'm... kind of handcuffed by how little sense that makes. I think I'll just let it (mis)speak for itself.

Bucky's point about how the Sabres don't scare anyone anymore, particularly on the road, is valid, but he fails to mention how last season started with an October spent scaring the opposition and ended with a post-season spent scaring their fans. Coincidence? The fear probably hurt them more in the end than it helped them last year, and I'd much rather have them playing scared now than in May.

By saying that there's "no need to rehash Chris Drury and Daniel Briere for the umpteenth time," Bucky rehashes Chris Drury and Daniel Briere for the umpteenth time. Well played, sir. He goes on to say that "the first 10 games have shown Buffalo's flaws run deeper than the departures of the former co-captains." I'd argue that they've shown Buffalo's flaws are almost completely unrelated to the departures of the former co-captains, but you know. Six of one...

I find myself agreeing with his "six pack" bullet points, comments about Kalinin and Hecht notwithstanding. Still, it's not exactly groundbreaking stuff. Vanek's not scoring? Our defense is sucking? I sure hope this guy is getting paid for this!

Bucky then "treats" us to his thoughts on some non-Sabres issues, starting with the Rangers:

"Snicker while you can at the New York Rangers, who had just 15 goals in nine games going into the weekend and suffered back-to-back 1-0 losses last week. Unlike the Sabres, their first 10 games were not indicative of trouble. Drury, Jaromir Jagr and Brendan Shanahan had just one goal apiece while newcomer Scott Gomez had two."

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back up. What was the number one problem the Sabres are having, again? Oh, that's right. "1. Underachieving stars." So for the Sabres, who have been getting secondary scoring from such non-stars as Pominville, Roy, and Hecht, not to mention a healthy dose of defensive scoring, the disappearance of Vanek and Afinogenov spells disaster. But for the Rangers, who have been shut out three times already this season--once by the Bruins, might I add--the expensive scoring drought is just growing pains? A speed bump? Get outta town, Bucky! (No really.) You can't have your cake and eat it, too; either underachieving stars is a problem, or it isn't. Also, I didn't hear you saying "they're veterans who will come around," when discussing Tallinder and Lydman's recent defensive problems. What, exactly, is the difference?

He goes on for a while about things I don't really care about, but I'm "rewarded" for sticking with him until the end with his take on the Oilers' recent video tribute to the once-captain-now-returning-as-an-Av Ryan Smyth. And if you don't know where this is headed, you're drunk. Sure enough: "Just wondering if the Sabres have anything similar planned for Drury and Briere." Seriously? Seriously? Look, setting aside the fact that I think it was ridiculous that the Oilers did that in the first place, Smyth had at least played eleven seasons with them before fucking off. Drury and Briere didn't play that many seasons as Sabres put together. I get that they did great things here, and everyone loved them, and there are a lot of great memories (I mean, think of all those Cups they brought us! Wait...), but Bucky. Get over it. They just weren't that into us. There's no need to go embarrassing ourselves trying to tell them how much we "miss" them. It's (been) time to move on. Furthermore, Sabres management: just, no. If this happens I may have to fly home just so I can puke ceremoniously right in the middle of it. Because I'm going to puke either way, and I'd rather have you clean up the mess.

Whew! I know I said I'd be brief, but that felt way too good. Too much pent-up aggression, I guess. Less than three weeks until this cursed play is over! (And then I'll get back to actually writing about the Sabres, and not just Bucky Gleason, I promise.)

Now THAT'S More Like It!

Sorry for the radio silence over opening weekend, folks, but I was just working on being the least professional Sabres blogger I can possibly be. That, and my parents were in town for Macalester's Family Fest Weekend, and I figured I owed them my undivided attention, especially considering they got in about 18 hours after they were scheduled to, due to the cancellation and delay problems that seem to curse travel attempt between BUF and MSP made by my family. (Let's just say that when my parents tried to make this same trip last October, there was a bit of a, uh, "snow issue.") It was, as always, a blast hanging out with them, and I got in some well-needed hockey socializing. Too bad it wasn't the best hockey. I'm not going to get in-depth with my analysis, especially since I didn't see the whole of either game, but I think the word sloppy pretty much covers it. But I wasn't alarmed, or even terribly upset by the losses. I am just so goddamn glad to have hockey back! (Also, I assure you that, as bad as the Sabres looked, listening to the Islanders' broadcast team was at least a hundred times worse. I think it was all summed up when the color guy announced "It's Islanders 6, Buffalo 4 here, and that's about all the analysis I can do!" Unfortunately, he then went on to try to do some analysis and came up with, "It's old-time hockey!" Riiiight.)

Last night, through some astounding miracle, I had the night off from rehearsal, and got to enjoy the game using my uncle's Slingbox. It's grainier and less reliable than Center Ice Online, but it's free (for me, anyway) and it gets the job done. Plus I'm guaranteed to get the Sabres announcers that way, and I don't have to worry about wanting to pull my hair out. Some things about the game:

- Obviously the major highlight was the special teams. Wow. I was at class during the first period, so I missed all the power play scoring, but still. I was utterly shocked to turn on my computer and see a power play that actually resembled a power play. We not only gained the zone, but held it, creating genuine scoring chances instead of just passing aimlessly. Whether this trend will continue, especially as we begin to face more aggressive PKs, remains to be seen, but at least the guys have proven to me they remember what a power play is. By the way, all the people bitching about Goose being on the power play (I'll admit I was a little skeptical), notice the three solid screens he set for those three first-period goals. The penalty kill was perfect, not nearly as jittery as we're used to seeing it at home, and Pommer's shorthanded goal was the result of pure tenacity from him and Roy. Just all-around encouraging, and should be a good confidence booster for the guys.

- The defense was much improved. Kalinin and Spacek both put in strong performances, I thought, and Hank and Toni were back to their reliable selves. It's not like Atlanta had a particularly potent offense going, but everything seems to be back on track here.

- Offense was never our problem, but they continued getting the job done last night. Connolly was a beast, and I'm inclined to believe the predictions that he'll have us saying "Danny who?" by the end of the season, provided he can stay off IR. Roy was also looking good, especially when he scored a goal while falling down. The only thing that worried me was the disappearance of Vanek. On the one hand, when you manage to score 6 goals without the guy you're paying $10 million showing up on the score sheet it's always heartening, but on the other hand, you're still paying $10 million for a guy to not show up on the score sheet. But it's early yet. He'll figure it out.

- I'm just not going to get used to not hearing Jim Lorentz's voice anytime soon. I'd never really watched Hockey Night in Canada before, so I haven't had much contact with Harry Neale, and I was trying to keep an open mind. But after tonight I think it's safe to say the relationship is already souring. It started when he tried to make the point that the Thrashers are the only team in the league with no North American letter wearers, like he didn't remember what team he was calling for. Luckily Rob Ray set him straight with a timely "What about the Sabres?" but Neale just continued to dig his hole deeper by contesting that Hecht, Lydman, and Tallinder are only captains of the month, and therefore apparently don't count. Grrrr. (Incidentally, one of the most entertaining parts of the game was hearing Rayzor detailing his smack-down of Neale to one "Joe," when his mic randomly cut in during the broadcast. Hilarious!)

- This was incredibly sweet:


I'm rehearsal-free tomorrow night, too, and I'm looking forward to seeing how we stand up to a the hot squad of Capitals. Hockey's back!

Fantasy Hockey

Kevin over at BfloBlog said today that there is nothing in the universe more boring than reading about a blogger's fantasy team. Well, I'm not the type of blogger who'll let a statement like that pass by untested. By which I mean, I'm a boring blogger. So, get ready to hear about my fantasy teams!

Recently, the experiment in fantasy hockey known as the IPB Superleague got underway with its draft. The point of this league (and it's less-fabulous sister league, the Amazingleague), besides the obvious smack talking possibilities, is to familiarize fans of one conference with players from the other. I'm certainly no expert even on the Eastern Conference, so I could really use this education, especially living in a WC city. Here's my team, It Just... Team:

Joe Thornton (C)
Jonathan Toews
Andrew Brunette
Ryan Smyth
Milan Michalek
Brian Rolston (A)
Dion Phaneuf (A)
Kevin Bieksa
Brett Clark
Mattias Ohlund
Mike Modano
Alexander Radulov
Fredrik Modin

Miikka Kiprusoff
Niklas Backstrom
Ilya Bryzgalov

I'm reasonably excited about this line-up, even though there are a few guys there I've never heard of. (Bryzgalov was a last-minute pick-up when the guy I originally had drafted from Phoenix was sent back to the AHL. There were few WC goaltenders left at that point, and I knew next to nothing about any of them. Bryz may not have been the best available option, but lord knows I love me some chatty back-up goaltenders, and since the team name is a tribute to him, I figured I owed him that much. Welcome to the fold, Breezy!) I seem to have achieved what I've decided is my trifecta of fantasy hockey desirables: 1) they're roughly talented, 2) I'm not morally opposed to them and all they stand for (I'm ignoring the general squickyness that seems to follow Ryan Smyth wherever he goes), and 3) they're acceptably hot (hello, Andrew Brunette and Milan Michalek!). We'll see how it all pans out.

I also joined another, non-conference-restricted league, partly to keep my jealousy of the other Superleaguers allowed to have Sabres and other ECers to a minimum, and partly to help take my brother's mind off the kind of shitty month he's been having. Well, the latter may have worked out, but the former backfired on me somewhat. Meet the Christ Punchers:

Jason Spezza
Marc Savard
Henrik Zetterberg
Alexander Frolov
Jarome Iginla
Drew Stafford (C)
Nicklas Lidstrom
Sheldon Souray
Dion Phaneuf (A)
Bryan McCabe
Daniel Alfredsson
Patrick Marleau (A)
Slava Kozlov

Roberto Luongo
Marty Turco
Jean-Sebastien Giguere

As you can see, my goal to get more EC guys kind of failed, and with the inclusion of Spezza, Alfredsson, and McCabe, #2 of my fantasy hockey desirables went completely out the window. There are only three other teams in the league (run by my brother and two of his friends), so talent is spread pretty thick, and I'm afraid that if I follow my heart and dump these guys for one of the leftovers, I'm pretty much guaranteeing myself the bottom feeder spot. Time will tell if anyone is willing to make me any kind of trade. In the meantime, I'm really psyched about that goaltending.

Ice Bowl Puts the "Desperation" in Desperation Hockey

Man, Buffalo, why so crazy? If you didn't want my family at the Ice Bowl you could have just said so, you know. Now I, like many poor WNYers, will be left out in the cold (or rather in the warm) this coming New Years Day when the Sabres play the Penguins at Ralph Wilson Stadium. I'm plenty depressed about this, because the timing for this game is perfect: three weeks after my 21st birthday (hello, tailgating!), and six days before I leave to spend six months in Europe (goodbye, hockey!). And the circumstances surrounding the selling of the tickets certainly doesn't help matters. I mean, why should Toronto fans (both of hockey and of baseball[?!?]) get to see this game, and not me? I realize it's a momentous, once-in-a-lifetime sort of thing that all sports fans, not just those of the participating teams, can enjoy, but why reserve tickets for them? Let them buy them (or not be able to buy them) just like everybody else. And then there are the people who picked up 15 extra tickets, expecting to make a huge profit off of them, which they undoubtedly will. I mean, good for them if they enjoy getting back the hard-earned money they spent on hockey tickets by gouging fellow fans for their hard-earned money, but there really should have been some kind of volume limit on tickets.

BUT there is a big bright side to this, and that bright side is, Buffalo, that we rule. We sold over 40,000 tickets to a game over three months from now in ten minutes. Those tickets were selling, as Heidi Klum would say, "like bagels." Really, really delicious bagels. Sure, some of those tickets were going to Toronto fans and scalpers, but judging by the sheer amount of whining from the locals I've been hearing (and heartily participating in), those factors only influenced when the tickets sold out (and probably not by very much), not if they would sell out. Thanks to us, the Sabres are now like the Backstreet Boys circa 1998, and that's awesome, right? I mean, they were practically bigger than Jesus! Seriously, as bummed as I am by my lack of ticket situation, I'm really happy and proud to know that Buffalo loves hockey this much. (Oh, and Jerry Sullivan, do you want to tell us now how unready the fans are for the season to start?)

In other news, Maxim Afinogenov is a devious Russian. The mystery surrounding Max's play and benching in the playoffs has finally been cleared up as Lindy explained that he smacked his head on the concrete while partaking in the team's soccer warm-up during the first round. This answers some questions for me, as I had been wondering if he maybe came back from his wrist injury too soon. But no, he was just showing off his sweet bicycle-kicking skills. Or perhaps slipping on a banana peel. Silly, silly Max. For his part, he's sure he has no idea what everyone's talking about. "Injury? What do you mean injury? Look, I am fine, I will show you. I will do a back flip!" Max, maybe next year you should wear a helmet during those soccer games.