What a Difference a Season Makes

Yes, yes, I do realize that there is still actual hockey going on, but my access to the playoffs—due to my fickle internet connection and necessity for a somewhat stable sleep schedule—is becoming ever-more limited, so bear with me while I get a little prematurely nostalgic.

The other day I was cruising through some old posts, both on this blog and on some of my regular internet haunts, when something struck me: this Sabres season wasn't a total waste! Sure it was mostly frustratingly, heartbreakingly mediocre, and ultimately a disappointment, but that doesn’t mean it was completely worthless. You see, as much as we hockey fans are about devotion—to a sport, a team, a player—we’re also about changing our minds at a moment’s notice. We reserve the right to love a player one minute, and then think he’s a pile of puke the next, and vice versa. Sports fandom is as much about discovery as it is about dedication, and in a league where only one team can hoist the Cup in any given year it’s why the other 29 even bother playing the games. Maybe it’s just because I’m new at this whole hardcore fan thing, but I was stunned to find exactly how radically some of my opinions regarding certain players have changed, even over the course of this “worthless,” playoff-less season. Not to mention a season I only saw about a third of. So who are the major upgrades and downgrades in my affections? Let’s take a look:

#4 Nolan Pratt Pratters, I feel like we hardly know each other, and that saddens me. You came to a team already in progress, and I only had about two months’ worth of games with you before leaving the country. Toss in my indentured servantry to the Theater Department, and your frequent occupation of the pressbox keeping one or both of us from some games, and sometimes—I’m ashamed to admit it—I forget you even play for this team. Still, the general reaction to your play has been overwhelmingly positive, and you bring a much-needed tough defensive presence (not to mention the ability to grow facial hair) to this young and often irresponsible team, so I have no qualms about giving you a hearty thumbs-up! Let’s spend more time together next season, okay?
UPGRADE

#5 Toni Lydman *Nananananananana Nananananananana Lydman!* This time last year I had no idea what Toni Lydman was about. Now, I still don’t have any idea what Toni Lydman is about, but I do know that I like it. Sure, it was a tough season for him, hockey-wise, as he and Tallinder struggled to maintain the quality of play that makes them our number one defensive pairing, but he’s just so delightful! He’s a self-deprecating, mom-hair-wearing, shot-blocking, drumming MONSTER! What’s not to love? That said, he better relearn how to kick ass on defense by next year, or else we’re putting him back in the cage.
UPGRADE

#6 Jaroslav Spacek In terms of my fondness, Jaro is this season’s uncontested feel-good story. Last season I didn’t just want the Sabres to buy out his contract, I wanted them to abandon him in the dumpster behind HSBC Arena and leave him for dead. He and his $3 million contract were my very dictionary definition of worthless dead weight, by which all other worthless dead weights were measured. Well, to my surprise, he has not only risen from the ashes of my scorn, but he’s obliterated those ashes. There’s absolutely no soot on this guy anymore. It all started at the beginning of the season, when he started scoring on power play point shots, which are apparently his bread and butter. And then, even better, he started using the phrase “bread and butter” in his always-hilarious interviews. I sent him some apology cinnamon buns and that was the official death of my derision. As the season went on, he steadily became the more likeable and defenseman-like half of the Spacek/Campbell pairing, and by the time his January captaincy rolled around I was in full-on hockey love. Quite a miraculous turnaround for Spacho.
UPGRADE

#9 Derek Roy During last year’s playoffs, Roy-Z was the only player I loved to complain about more than Spacek. He wasn’t just worthless dead weight; he was actively detrimental dead weight. But, unlike with Spacek, I actually recognized that Roy was just a good player going through a rough (okay, brutal) time. By the time his contract extension came through, I’d gotten enough bitching out of my system to admit that I was happy about it, and I was fully ready to continue my love-hate relationship with Derek for another six years. A lot of other people were way more down on the signing, however, and I distinctly remember Schopp and the Bulldog (back when I thought listening to WGR550 was a worthwhile pursuit) circulating the Buckyism that the Sabres, by not re-signing Drury and Briere, had forced themselves into criminally overpaying their young guys; they said the only way the contract would turn into a deal was if Roy suddenly turned into a point-per-game player, which they both derisively agreed was an improbability. Well. Here’s Roy-Z, sporting a team-leading 81 points in 78 games, and one of the best second-halves of a season in the NHL. Heh, what a punk.
UPGRADE

#10 Henrik Tallinder There’s no way around the fact that Hank struggled this year. With a group of forwards who, outside of Hecht and Pominville, had only a vague familiarity with the term “responsible play,” not to mention Soupy systematically dismantling the blueline, we needed Hank to be great for us. And he and Lydman just… weren’t. I’m not saying I’m mad at him, I’m just disappointed. But I’m sure he’ll make it up to me next year. Still, that shootout goal against Brodeur was amazing, and Mr. Tall Indians is still the sexiest of our sexy defensive defensemen (based on both his sexiness and his defensive ability), so it’s not like it was all bad.
EVEN

#12 Ales Kotalik Man, oh man, oh man. What am I going to do with you, Superfreak? You’re killing me! Is there any way we can just make you a designated shootout shooter? You’re like that kid in the Mighty Ducks whose only palatable hockey skill is his wicked hard shot, which has a 1 in 5 chance of hitting the net. Unfortunately, this is the real world, where “secret weapons” don’t exist, and no goaltender is going to jump out of the net to avoid getting hit by your shot. I’ve just about had it with you.
DOWNGRADE

#19 Tim Connolly You would think that after the non-season Timmy had last year, there’d be no place for him to go but up. But you’d be wrong. Maybe that’s mostly my fault, because after the co-captain exodus a lot of fans were looking to the return of a healthy Connolly to seamlessly pick up the slack, which was clearly a doomed endeavor. For a while it seemed to be working; his incredible hockey sense and patience with the puck, combined with his equal playability on the power play and penalty kill, had me going, “Briere who?” for a good portion of the beginning of the season. But then his groin started hurting, and then his oblique started hurting, and then his head started hurting, and then he fell down the stairs and shattered his skeleton into a million pieces like Samuel L. Jackson in Unbreakable, and then he got bone spurs, and then he… died? Seriously, has Darcy Regier discreetly flushed him down the toilet, hoping that we wouldn’t notice?
DOWNGRADE

#20 Danny Paille Pie-Yay is still a bit of a non-entity to me, since apparently I only got to see him during his cold streaks, but I did hear about his curious cycles of disappearing, being benched, and then going on a scoring tear. Rinse and repeat. Sounds a bit problematic, but hey, as long as it results in 19 goals and 35 points from a guy whose existence I kept forgetting last year, I’m not going to complain.
UPGRADE

#21 Drew Stafford You know it’s bad when even Connolly can be considered less of a disappointment than you. We fans weren’t fair to poor Staffy going into this season. The guy spent most of last season on the stretch of the 90 that runs between Buffalo and Rochester, and yet we were perfectly content to pin all of our hopes and dreams for the 2007-2008 Sabres on him. What can we say? We were hurting for a new Drury and Drew was out best bet. He never had a chance of pleasing us. Still, that’s no excuse for all but disappearing. The good news is, at least he has a future. While Timmy’s doomed to try to glue the remaining pieces of his skull back together and climb out of whatever sewer he’s been flushed to, Staffy can grow and learn and develop. He’s still young. And I’m confident he can turn it around. (It should also be noted that Staffy is way bad-ass-rockinger than Connolly will ever be. This much is beyond doubt.)
DOWNGRADE

#22 Adam Mair I spent all of last summer retroactively discovering the awesomeness that is Adam Mair. With every new thing I remembered or learned—he’s an effective, not to mention hot, fighter; he works hard every single shift; he’s devoted to staying in Buffalo; he hates animal cruelty—I loved him more and more. As a result, there was really no way for him to rise in my esteem any more. And, since it’s mainly his stoic dependability I appreciate, I wouldn't have it any other way.
EVEN

#26 Thomas Vanek Last season I was predisposed to like Vanek. He was born in Austria, where I knew I’d be headed within the year, and he played college hockey as a Golden Gopher at the University of Minnesota, right inside the very Twin Cities I’ve grown to love in my college days. Not to mention, he wasn’t a half-bad hockey player. Well, this season there was no “predisposed” about it. I unabashedly love this guy. My love should probably be tempered with more frustration with his play (or lack thereof), but it’s not. I know, I know, those who make the big bucks don’t get the luxury of excuses, especially not in Buffalo, but I don’t think anyone can accuse him of not trying hard enough, and that’s what matters most to me. As long as he’s not content to sit back under the shelter of his $52 million and let everyone else do the work, I think he’s going to be just fine. In any case, Vanek has found my soft spot, he’s moved in, he’s brought all his natural hat tricks, his one facial expression, and all the Weiner schnitzel you could want, and he’s not going anywhere.
UPGRADE

#27 Teppo Numminen He only played one game, and I didn’t see it, but I love him more and more every day regardless.
UPGRADE

#28 Paul Gaustad This was a big season for Goose. After his sophomore year was cut short (yeesh—no pun intended) by that grisly leg injury, he came in with something to prove. And, boy, did he ever. If there were any doubters, he’s now once-and-for-all secured his place as both Toughest Sabre—battling it out in front of the net and staying healthy for 82 games isn’t a walk in the park (to be fair, props to Vanek for the same), and Chris Neil isn’t going to just punch himself in the face—and Handsomest Sabre—I imagine those Green Team commercials were a welcome change from Veinsveinsveins and the Sweat Center, yes? A nomination for the Masterton Trophy and an invitation to the US World Championship Team came his way as a result of all his hard work. Perhaps more importantly, he’s now been officially canonized as Buffalo’s Working Class Hero. He’s like the new Chris Drury: this time with uncrossed eyes and a personality! What more could we want?
UPGRADE

#29 Jason Pominville If Spacek was this year’s greatest redemption, Pommerdoodle was its greatest revelation. It’s not like he suddenly became awesome, he just suddenly got to show how awesome he’s always been while most people were too busy paying attention to Briere. A year ago I didn’t much think about him, except as the puckbunnies’ darling and my mom’s age-inappropriate crush. Of course he was on my radar as a player who would need to step up and fill the Great Void left after July 1st, but I never expected a season like this. Pommerdoodle was the picture of work ethic and sportsmanship, rocking consistently, but quietly, all season long. He showed a vast amount of versatility, playing on both special teams units, and adapting his game to account for all those assists that departed with Briere. We narrowly missed seeing him showing off his skills as a defenseman when we had exhausted all of our call-up options near the end of the season, and when Lindy gave him the C in March, he proved he could rock fairly effortlessly at that, too. How long before he pulls on the goalie pads or gets a coaching job? I know I’m beginning to sound like a kindergarten teacher with all the praise, here, but such is the intense enthusiasm Pommers’ season inspired in me. He was simply an absolute joy to have on my team. A+!
UPGRADE

#30 Ryan Miller Poor, poor Crunchy. This time last year he was desperately trying to pile all of the Sabres onto his back and carry them single-handedly to the Finals. That was… heartbreaking, but awesome. This year he wasn’t quite so impressive, though it wasn’t all his fault. The general disaster area that was our defense for most of the year aside, our lack of a competent backup forced him into playing 76 games this year, and he’s no Marty Brodeur. Dude was down to mid-playoff weight a good two weeks before the end of the regular season! May I suggest we get a backup goalie we can confidently play before our number one guy completely disintegrates? Luckily for Crunchy, what he lost in hockey badassitude this season, he made up for in personality. Pre-season interviews saw Crunchy don his crankiest of cranky pants when talking about the ex-co-captains; mid-season he graced our TV screens in Amp commercials and Perry’s factory spots alike; he played the guitar and hosted a fashion show (sometimes both at once!); and now he’s writing a wonderfully charming playoff blog over at Maxim. Well played, indeed, Crunchy. If you can’t play like a superstar, at least distract us like a superstar.
UPGRADE

#35 Jocelyn Thibault Things started out so well for T-Bone and me. For starters, he’s a cutie. And he seemed to know what he was doing. Well. I’m not sure what happened there. But I miss Marty Biron even more now.
DOWNGRADE

#36 Patrick Kaleta Dude, I adore Patrick Kaleta. Not only do I have a soft spot for the hometown boys, but I also like to see an agitator who’s actually good at what he does. He’s compact, but he can hit, and it seems he might be developing some for-real hockey skills, too. Keep it up, kid!
UPGRADE

#37 Mike Ryan Well, at least he didn’t put it in his own net this year. I think that alone deserves an
UPGRADE

#38 Nathan Paetsch Last year I had a mostly inexplicable crush on Patches all season. It was born out of pity based on his sad draft history (originally drafted by the Caps in the second round in 2001, unsigned, and re-drafted by the Sabres in the seventh round in 2003), and tickled admiration based on anecdotes like Lindy strapping parachutes to his back, and Chara signing the dent in his helmet. Well, Patches, I’m cutting the apron strings. The time for cute/pathetic factoids getting you free passes to my affections has passed, and you’ve got to show me what you’re made of.
DOWNGRADE

#44 Andrej Sekera This time last year I didn't even know this kid’s name, but now it seems everyone’s talking about him. He’s another one of those players I didn’t really get a feel for, because I seem to have missed out on his best games, but if word on the street is true—that he got better and better the more games he played at the big show—then sign me up. Something tells me we’re going to need all the defensive help we can get.
UPGRADE

#45 Dmitri Kalinin It was another season of the same-old same-old for poor Tri. Everyone willfully looked the other way when he succeeded, and got out their best pointing fingers when he failed. As for me, I feel just as bad for him now as I did a year ago.
EVEN

#55 Jochen Hecht *Happy sigh* There’s only one player who brought me more delight this season than Pommerdoodle, and that was Yo-Yo. A little less than a year ago, I finally gave in and admitted what had been true for a long time: Jochen Hecht is indeed my favorite player. He rewarded my declaration with pretty much the best season I could have asked for. He put my fretting mind to rest in the early going, extending his contract by four years quickly and cleanly, and then, against all common sense, started playing better once his future Sabre-ness had been secured. He and Pommers worked together to help each other through the absence of Briere, and though Yo-Yo continued his impossibly endearing habit of aiming for posts and goalie’s chest protectors, he was also finding the back of the net. In the midst of this season’s dank doldrums of mediocrity, Yo-Yo’s steady march toward his first 20-goal season was the light at the end of the tunnel for me. His 20th goal, in that awesome comeback game against Tampa, was the uncontested highlight of my season. But I wasn’t the only one who was noticing. He wore a letter in every month of this season, including the C twice, once as voted on by the players. And then it comes out that he’d been secretly playing, without a word of complaint, with an injured wrist since January. Man. My love knows no bounds, what can I say? It may have been a pretty sucky season to be a Sabres fan, but it was an awesome season to be a Hecht fan.
UPGRADE, WHICH I DIDN’T EVEN THINK WAS POSSIBLE

#56 Steve Bernier Big Bear, I don’t know you, you don’t know me, but I like the cut of your jib. You may not have made a big impression on me this season, but you’re big, you’re young, and you’re hella cute. I think you have a future ahead of you. Plus, anyone who helped us get rid of Soupy is a friend of mine.
UPGRADE

#61 Maxim Afinogenov Oh, God. Max is both incredibly maddening and maddeningly incredible, and when he’s on he may just be the most entertaining player to watch in the entire NHL, but that doesn’t make it any easier to watch him when he’s off. Especially when he’s coming off of a season where he was more incredible than maddening and seemed to have everything figured out. I have to admit, half of me is hoping he can find the magic again, the other half wants him to make himself at home in that dumpster I reserved for Spacek last year.
DOWNGRADE

#76 Andrew Peters Poopers.
DOWNGRADE

Well, looked at in this light, the season doesn't seem so painful after all! 15 upgrades, a couple of them some pretty delightful epiphanies, and only 7 downgrades, not including the most violent downturn, which I don’t have to worry about anymore. (Please stay in the WC, Soupy!) See what I mean about the season not being a waste? Sometimes it's fun being a hockey fan, even when it's not.

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.

It's Pretty Bleak

For a few wild moments there I thought about purchasing the ESPN 360 package to the playoffs (for about 50 Euro, or $75) just to get my dose of hockey in before what is sure to be an endless (even more endless than last year) off-season. I mean, it's playoff hockey, which is pretty much my favorite thing in the world, even if the Sabres aren't playing (sniff). But then I actually took a look at how the playoff picture turned out and decided... it's not for me. Being in Europe and being (albeit unwillingly) cut off from hockey for most of the season has saved me a lot of pain so far, so why stop now, when it's almost guaranteed that a team I hate will end up doing well? Why should I subject myself to that, let alone pay for the privilege? No, I decided it was a much better idea to just keep the playoffs in the periphery, satiate my thirst for hockey with boxscores and posts on other blogs. That doesn't mean I'll be observing without a rooting interest, though. Uninformed though I am, I still know which teams I want to win and (more importantly) which teams I want to lose. I'm stating it here for the record that I'm hitching my wagon to the New Jersey Devils' train. (That in itself should be enough to tell you how out of touch with this season I am.) On the one hand, everything I've read over at IPB this year has told me that there's no way in hell that the Devils are going to win it all. On the other hand, the last time I chose to back the Devils once the Sabres were out of the running was back in 2000, so maybe I'm just the good luck charm they need to win another Cup. Either way, the Devils have somehow become the team I like the most in the East, after the Sabres, (this may have much to do with the fact that I never actually watch them play) and that's good enough for me. So how do the rest of my allegiances play out? Let's take a look one match-up at a time.

(Note: As stated, I have paid almost zero attention to the rest of the league this season. Hell, I barely kept up with the Sabres. So none of this information is meant to be taken as a prediction. These are just my gut feelings about who I think should win, in order to bring justice to the universe.)

1. Montreal Canadiens vs. Boston Bruins
I don't think I saw a single game the Sabres played against the Bruins this year, and yet I am totally sick of them. They somehow bring a type of boredom to the game that transcends things like actually watching them play, and the thought of cheering for them almost literally puts me to sleep. That being said, almost everyone around me is totally sold on the Canadiens, and I'm not sure why. Maybe their awesomeness doesn't transcend things like actually watching them play, I don't know. In any case, I can't think of any logical reason not to cheer for them, so Go Habs! I guess.

2. Pittsburgh Penguins vs. Ottawa Senators
I have a brain, ergo, Go Pens! Okay, really, the Senators make me sick. This ocean between us hasn't done anything to lessen that effect. Maybe I'm just a sore loser because the Sens played a primary role in derailing the first team I ever really, truly, and passionately cared about, but I'm stating here for the record that I will never, ever root for them. I just don't have it in me. That aside, a speedy exit from the playoffs would be just the picture-perfect end to a season that began with every Ottawa fan and half the MSM wanting to just cut the crap and stamp their names on the Cup already. As this year's Superbowl taught me, Schadenfreude attracts my rooting interest like nothing else.

3. Washington Capitals vs. Philadelphia Flyers
The Caps are a problematic team for me. I was perfectly content to cast them aside without a thought while they were still a (mostly) cute nuisance, perennially on the outside looking in on the post-season, but then this year they became impossible to ignore. Ovechkin had a stellar year, which everyone insisted on not shutting up about, to the point where they became increasingly obsessed with the possibility of the Caps making the playoffs, starting in about October. And then when they actually did manage to squeak into 3rd place (How crazy is it that that's possible? The Southeast is such a pit of despair), forget about it. I can't exactly pin down what it is that I don't like about the Caps (I don't exactly hate Ovechkin, though I resent everyone telling me how ecstatic I should be about him making his playoff debut), but one thing is for sure: I liked it a lot better when it was a given that they would suck their way out of the top eight. *Sigh* Luckily for them, they're playing the Flyers in the first round, so I see no choice but to say Go Caps. But I do so begrudgingly. (Sorry, Marty. You know I still love you.)

4. New Jersey Devils vs. New York Rangers

'Nuff said.

I would say stay tuned for the Western Conference edition of Gambler's Random Thoughts on the Playoff Match-Ups, but the truth is I can't be bothered to care. It's not like I ever paid attention to the Western Conference when we actually shared the same continent, anyway. I'll pick a team once we get closer to the Cup, I guess.

To the Season that Was...

We faithful deserved better than this.

Oh well, I'm more prolific in the off-season, anyway.

At Last

Was last night a great night to be a Sabres fan or was it a great night to be a Sabres fan? Seriously, that game was flat-out insane! And you know the best part? I GOT TO SEE IT! FINALLY! AFTER TWO-AND-A-HALF MONTHS OF HOCKEY-LESS SUFFERING! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Due to some interweb-related magic (I'm pretty sure there was actual pixie dust involved), I was able to get the game (only the Lightning feed, sadly, but I'll definitely take what I can get) on my computer last night. The quality was a little stuttery during the first two periods but the feed smoothed out just as the Sabres did and I saw the best part of the game without too much difficulty. Sure beat checking Sabres.com for the scores, though.

The bad part about watching my first hockey game in such a long time is that I'm way out of practice with this whole "blogging-and-actually-having-something-legitimate-to-write-about" thing. Especially since the awesomeness of this game left me pretty much SPEECHLESS. Can't I just go back to having fake conversations with fish? No? Okay, let's see what I have to say.

-First things first, I have some presents to hand out to my favorite player-turned-scoring machine:

Shiny!

Bubbly!

Luminescent!

Whoa, back off Yo-Yo's cake, bitch!

Yo-Yo! I'm so proud of you! You did it! I knew you could! I believed in you since the start of the season, and you DID IT! Thanks so much for waiting until you knew I was watching. If I'd known that was all the encouragement you needed I would have moved mountains to get to watch the games sooner. And I like how you tried to play it off as no big deal in your post game

interview, like we didn't all see the giggly, giddy goal celebration with Pommers. I know you don't smile like that after just any goal, Yo-Yo. That was definitely a 20-goal smile.

-Wow, the Magic Jersey was in top form last night, its first time actually witnessing a game. Not only did it boost Yo-Yo to number 20 (and 21!) and give Vanek another hat trick, but it also apparently grants wishes. Before the start of the third, in a fit of crankiness about the ungrateful Sabres throwing away my internet efforts and late-night wakefulness in a 4-1 loss to Tampa Bay, I spat out, half-joking and half-mocking, "Here we go. They're going to score six in this period, I can feel it." Well. Clearly this jersey is not to be trifled with. I'm kind of afraid of all the power it seems to have. Can you imagine what could happen when I finally get to wear it to a live game? I will have to be very careful what I say from now on.

-Captain Pommerdoodle is incredible. And adorable. I'm so proud of him, and last night he was seriously challenging Mair for second-favorite status. Mairsy pulled ahead a little bit for giving Yo-Yo a hug instead of a glove-tap when he went down the bench after his empty-netter, but Pommer got right back in it when Yo-Yo revealed in his post-game interview that he had tried to give him the puck from his goal last game, thinking it was number 20 when it was only 19. Poms is so cute when he can't count!

-Speaking of post-game interviews, I love Lindy Ruff to pieces. Not only did he not hold the booing of the home crowd against them, he actually called them out for not booing enough. "I thought the booing was a little shallow, to be honest with you." HA! And then, when one of the reporters tried to get him to admit being pissed at Vanek, he counters with "No, I was actually mad at Derek Roy," to prove that he's not just politely demurring. I love it! I know there's been sort of an unspoken undercurrent of worry this season that maybe Lindy doesn't have this team under control anymore, and maybe even that it's time for him to move on, but to that I say NO WAY. Maybe it's just selfishness, but I would miss him too damn much.

-I love me a punchy Max. The Tampa Bay guys revisited his Halpern headlock a number of times throughout the game (mostly referencing how that was surely not good for Halpern's sore back), and I couldn't get enough of it. Just to see Max flying into the scrum and latching onto his shoulders like he was asking for a piggy-back ride. It made me laugh every time.

WOOOOOOOO! What a relief it was to see hockey again. I missed it SO MUCH! You better believe I'll be tuning in tomorrow, too, with the Magic Jersey and everything. Let's hope it's just as lucky. LET'S GO BUFFALO!

(Only time will tell, but I think I, with the help of last nights game, may have created a brand new Sabres fan here in Berlin. Poor soul.)

Balls Of Steel

First of all, I'd like to apologize for causing what seemed like an absolutely horrendous game against the Rangers yesterday. A few days ago I decided to see if maybe the Magic of the Jersey could only be unleashed by actually wearing it during the game. It seemed logical, and it was easy enough to pull it on before I went to bed (it's so comfy!) and wake up to the outcome of the game. This strategy rewarded me with two consecutive wins against the Senators and the Leafs. Furthermore, my prediction for a 20th goal achieved via hat trick totally came true! Just for the wrong player. (Looks like the Magic Jersey's nationality locater needs a little recalibrating, as it overshot "German" by a hair and hit "Austrian" instead. Should be a quick fix.) Then the schedule pulled a fast one on me yesterday, as the game was during the evening here instead of the middle of the night. That meant I forgot to put the jersey on at the proper time, and that apparently flipped the Sabres' Suck Switch. So, uh, sorry. My bad.

But I'm not writing to focus on the painful experiences of this game, abundant though they may have been. Instead I want to bring to everyone's attention something undeniably awesome about yesterday's game. Allow me to introduce my sister. Usually she goes by Meghan, but for today you can call her "Balls of Steel":

Nice to see someone brought their A-game yesterday.

Balls of Steel recently moved from Buffalo down to New York City (the traitor), and she'd been eagerly awaiting this game since getting her tickets back in November. That's right, she went into Madison Square Garden, den of some of the league's un-friendliest fans ready and waiting with Drury-related quips and Upstate-related trash-talk, wearing a shirt covered in tiny, girly jewels. It may as well have had "Puckbunny" bedazzled on it, for all the uninformed eye could tell. That, my friends, takes balls of steel. And all in the name of an inside joke that will never die. I sure do appreciate it, Balls of Steel, because you gave me one hell of a laugh this morning. My hat is off to you, and, hey, you didn't happen to make one of those for me, too, did you?

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go pass out. With the Yo-Yo sweater on, of course, since we've proven once and for all that everything goes to shit when I don't.

Go Sabres!

The Magic Jersey Is An Undeniable Success!

Wait... What's the opposite of success? Yeah, that's what I meant.

Ugh. I think I could smell that third period all the way from here.

Well, too bad, boys! I'm not taking the sweater back, and you can't make me. You're just going to have to get over it!

By the way, what the hell is going on here?

Whoa, whoa, whoa! Watch the Goose Eggs, there!

Charbacca, what gives? You conspire all A-S Weekend long to make me love you, and then you go and try to castrate Goose? Why must you toy with my emotions this way, giant one? WHY?!

Gameday Prediction: Sabres vs. Bruins

Okay, I know what you're thinking.

Wasn't the last hockey game you saw over a month ago?
*Sigh* Yes.

Haven't you been posting non-stop nonsense about the Sabres since then, including the transcript of an imaginary phone conversation with a fishy incarnation of Jochen Hecht?
Ye---wait, imaginary?

Wasn't your last post made up entirely of movie quotes, with no hockey content whatsoever?
Oh, why don't you stop annoying people?

Could you be any more out of touch with the Sabres?
Well, I could be Bucky Gleason, but yes, I get your point.

And you're making a prediction for tonight's game? Do you expect us to believe this?
Yes.

Because I have something you don't:

Wewease the secwet weapon!

(Sorry about the blurry quality of the photos. Apparently my camera doesn't do timer and focus at the same time.) There's magic in this fabric. I can feel it. I'm not quite sure yet how strong the powers are, but maybe, just maybe, it's full of--dare I say it?--turnaround juice. Whatever it is, I just can't help thinking that something wonderful is about to unfold.

Prediction: Captain (!!!) Hecht gets a hat trick and balloons, confetti, and yo-yos rain from the ceiling as he reaches the 20 goal mark for the first time in his career. They do that kind of thing, right? Of course, optimism has recently proven to be the enemy of a Sabres win, so I'm also predicting a 6-3 Bruins final. I hope everyone enjoys their free yo-yos, at least! Also? Chara will be large. Roy will be tiny. People will laugh about it.

Groundhog Day

Today's February 2nd, which to me means only one thing: Groundhog Day. This Bill Murray masterpiece takes its place in the Gambler Family Arsenal of Quotable Movies right alongside This is Spinal Tap and My Cousin Vinny, and this holiday gives us an excuse to work into everyday conversation phrases like "Did you really want to talk about the weather, or were you just making chit-chat?" and "Too early for flapjacks?" Not that we need one, really. I'll admit I've been a little nostalgic all day, thinking about all the groundhoggy fun they're surely having without me, so I thought, what better way to make my own fun than to combine the two things I'm most bummed about missing out on while in Germany? And let's be honest, being a Sabres fan this season has been not unlike being stuck living the same crappy day over and over again, wherein your hockey team keeps showing up to play 15 minutes of hockey every night, and just when it seems they've finally learned their lesson and turned it around for good, they're starting over again at square one. In honor of all that, Groundhog Day quotes meet the Sabres:

(Yes, I know this is the cop-outtiest of all cop-out posts, but you have to understand: It's been a month since I last saw a hockey game. A month. My withdrawal has gotten so bad that I'm actually planning on going to a sports bar at midnight on Sunday to watch the Super Bowl. That's football, people. I'm desperate, and not a little bit crazy, I don't doubt. Furthermore, if I pretended to know what's really going on with the Sabres right now, that would be a downright lie. Even eyewitnesses can barely seem to figure them out, and the ocean between us certainly doesn't add any clarity. I figure being honestly frivolous is better than being deceitfully intelligent. If you want actual hockey content, I suggest checking out Heather proving that Campbell sucks. Here? Just enjoy the pictures.)

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Hey, Soupy, you're at the All-Star Game again! Do you ever have deja vu?

Soupy: I don't think so, but I could check with the kitchen.

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*Sarcastic clapping* Just put that anywhere, pal! Yeah! Good save!

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Hey, he could still be okay.

Well, not now.

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What would you do if you were stuck in one place, and every day was exactly the same, and nothing that you did mattered?
Andrew Peters: That about sums it up for me.

A Letter With Photographic Evidence

Dear Eric Staal,

I've said it before, but I'll say it again:

You look like serial killer. Seriously, get that scythe meat hook stick the hell away from my throat, before you get a face full of mace.

Stay back, I'm not kidding,
Gambler

P.S. Enjoy your new car, psychopath. Please drive it to the other Conference. Thanks.