Wait A Second

I know I've been out of the loop for a little while, but... the Blue Jackets are still terrible, right? Nothing has suddenly changed on that front? My only experience of tonight's game was a text of the final score, and I just want to make sure I'm grasping the full suckitude of this situation.

Boo.

That Game Blew, but Live Hockey is Fun

Maybe I'm a bad hockey fan because I spend money to support a mediocre administration, but sarcastically cheering Montador's lone shot in the first period tonight was almost the most fun I've ever had at a hockey game. So suck it, Sully.

As for the rest of it... well, let's just say I hope everyone on the team got Ryan Miller really good Christmas presents.

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.

Making Lemonade

Before I get into this, I know calling last night's game a lemon is an insult to lemons everywhere, but "Making Poopade" just didn't strike me as a good title.

Anyway.

The Sabres are lucky I kind of like the Devils and Brodeur in particular, because if they'd hit the trifecta of making me tune into Versus (blech) to watch them muster just 22 shots on goal (ugh) to give the 103rd, record-tying shutout to a goalie I hated (Emery), let's just say the poopade would be flowing like wine. Right into their water bottles.

I suppose I could be rational about this. I could say that, well, Brodeur was obviously going to get that shutout sometime, and someone had to give it to him. Bad luck for the Sabres that it had to be them. By the time Marty moves into the place of sole record-holder this game will be a dull (very dull) memory. Unfortunately, I'm too seasoned of a Buffalo fan to be rational.

Fortunately, though, I'm a seasoned enough Buffalo fan to know how to make the best of a bad situation by distracting myself with frivolous hilarity, when need be. Sometimes, when it seems like nothing is working right, you just need to latch onto a single detail and extrapolate until it entertains you, and last night such a moment floated right into my wheelhouse. The play was innocent enough that there isn't even a video to link to, but somewhere in the mire of the second period, MacArthur was high-sticked in front of the Devil's net by some guy named Fraser. Ultimately, no blood was involved, and the guy's name wasn't spelled right, but that didn't matter. I was already extrapolating my way to my happy place.

As far as I'm concerned, the rest of the game looked like this.

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.

Blowing It

It's Friday. I haven't posted in almost exactly two weeks. Less than three months in, and there goes my resolution. Well, I can't say I didn't make it longer than I thought I would.

But here's the thing: I'm not the only one who's blowing it. Three weeks removed from Miller's injury, the Sabres are five points removed from a playoff spot, and the outlook is suffocatingly bleak. All across Buffalo, fans are reacting accordingly. Even the most levelheaded are begging for the team to be blown up. Even the most steadfast are either prematurely switching off the games, or preemptively not tuning in in the first place. I don't mean this to be insulting to Buffalonians, but we've put up with some pretty crappy sports teams in our day, so if we're whining this much, it has to be bad. Hell, it's been bad enough to finally erode the teflon coating of Lindy Ruff's job security. That's bad.

To be honest, when I first made this resolution, I wasn't really being realistic about what this year had in store for me. Sure, I knew I'd be in rehearsal most nights, especially in the second half of the semester. I knew I was going to want to spend time with my friends, and that watching hockey wasn't really their idea of a good time. I knew that illegally obtaining out-of-market games through the internet is unreliable and unpredictable. So I expected that it was going to be challenging to keep up with the Sabres. What I didn't expect, was that I wouldn't even want to make the effort to try to keep up with the Sabres. If you'll notice, the above discussion of how bad the Sabres are is shaped exclusively by internet hearsay. The fact is I haven't seen a game in I can't remember how long, so I have no idea exactly how bad they've been. I just know it's bad.

Don't get me wrong, I still love hockey. I still keep up with my daily blog rounds; I still use every opportunity to bitch about Alex Ovechkin with my Caps-fan friend that I get; I still fill at least some part of every call home with hockey talk. I'm just not that interested in watching the Sabres anymore, and that isn't always because of time issues. Right now, for instance, I'm on spring break, which means no rehearsal. I have plans with friends, but not until later. I could totally be watching the Sabres play the Flyers right now. But instead I'm writing this blog post and doing some homework. (Homework! On spring break!) I'm not in a place to analyze this at the moment, but for whatever reason, I'm perfectly content to get all my Sabres knowledge second hand right now. And with the way the team has (reportedly) been playing, I don't see a need for that to be changing anytime soon.

Still, I'm not going to give up that easily. I may be totally out of the loop, I may be totally disinterested in getting back in the loop, but I'll still be here every week, churning out some sort of blather, pertinent or (more likely) not. I may be blowing it, but there's time to turn it around. If only I could say the same for the Sabres.

2009 Winter Classic: A Reaction

So that's what good hockey looks like?

Shit. 

The Sabres are never going to be able to do that.

Questions

Why can't I watch all Sabres games in HD?

Why do I hate Alex Ovechkin so much?

If we have the fourth best penalty kill in the league, why all the sudden can't we play like we have the fourth best penalty kill in the league?

Why does Clarke MacArthur have more goals than Jason Pominville?

Why does Adam Mair have more goals than Jochen Hecht?

Why is Jochen Hecht doing this to me?

Why do I do this to myself?

Is 2008 over yet?

Sabres @ Bruins: A Two-Word Review

Shit Sandwich.

There's No Beauty In The Breakdown

That's right, the Garden State soundtrack lies.

I'll be honest, I didn't really pay much attention to the last game. After losing half of my Friday night to the "game" against Columbus, I chose to dedicate my Saturday night to doing more collegey things with actual people, which I figured was almost certain to be more fun, even if it didn't provide the opportunity to make fun of ridiculous names. Still, because I'm a crazy hockey fan and my friends expect it of me anyway, I kept the game running on my computer in a corner of the room, and checked in every ten minutes or so. I'll admit, I was tempted at a couple of points to abandon my pretense of being social and settle into the action. Through the first two periods they seemed to have things under control, and I was intrigued by the Vanek-Hecht-Pominville line. Mostly because of the high concentration of love involved there. (Seriously, the Vanek love is getting out of control.) 

Well, I sure am glad I didn't fall for that old trick. I successfully resisted the siren call of my computer, and as I watched out of the corner of my eye as the Pens scored in rapid succession in the last five minutes to take the score from 2-2 to 5-2, I felt vindicated. At the same time, I also feel completely unequipped to tackle the question every blogger and fan is trying to figure out: What went wrong? Really all I can do is try to guess at what the problem was. On the one hand, the Penguins are a good team. (Although there's still plenty of time for that Stanley Cup runner-up curse to catch up with them, just like it did with Ottawa last year.) It's not entirely impossible that they managed to take over the game even if the Sabres looked like they were doing everything right. On the other hand, the Sabres have been playing like crap lately, and maybe keeping focus for a full 60 minutes is too much to ask of them. As strong as the defensive play was to start the season, it's been full of holes recently, and lazy backchecking by the forwards coupled with shaky goaltending isn't helping things. 

Whatever the cause, Saturday's game is the type that I instinctively want to just chalk up to bad luck, bad karma, bad energy and just forget about. I tell myself it's still early in the season, far too early to be putting any stock in the standings, and there's still plenty of time left for improvement. The problem is, I've had to tell myself that too many times recently. There's plenty of season left, but if a team can't focus for a full 60 minutes, how are they going to be able to focus for a full 82 games? Even good teams have bad nights, but how many bad nights does it take to mean you have a bad team? It's a question we slowly learned the answer to last season, and no one wants a repeat demonstration.

Come on, Sabres. The real beauty is in pulling it back together.

The Sabres got the Blues, but I don't have to

Well, that was a pretty awful series of games. Following an uninspired win against the Blues with an un-boring but completely frustrating loss to the Bluejackets, isn't exactly my definition of fun times. So what's a fan to do to entertain herself when her hockey team fails to come through for her? Not to mention, what's a blogger fighting to get back in the game supposed to write about when the only complete sentences that come to mind about hockey are creative death threats? Why, it's one of my favorite pastimes: Making fun of hockey names!

I'm pretty sure that at least half the Blues' roster is made up. The fact my most dominant memory of Wednesday night's game (aside from Hank Tallinder, newest Wiggle, of course) is of me shouting at my screen "There's no way that's a real person!" every time the name Pietrangelo was mentioned, probably tells you all you need to know about that game. But, seriously, Pietrangelo? That's totally not a real name. Just take a second to say it out loud. Pietrangelo. It's like saying the word "eleventybillion." It just feels false on the tongue, like someone squished two different last names together to make a nonsense last name. Also, as much as his name was mentioned in the play-by-play--which was relatively frequently, since I was forced into watching the St. Louis feed--I never actually got visual confirmation. Amongst the numerous close-up shots, I never once got one of the name "Pietrangelo" on the back of a jersey. Furthermore, the name is nowhere to be found on the Blues' roster page. Very suspicious. I'm pretty convinced that the Blues announcer came into this game with an incomplete roster list, panicked when a player touched the puck whose name he didn't know, and blurted out the first name that popped into his head. Unfortunately, that "name" was Pietrangelo, so now not only does everyone know that he's bad at his job, but also that he sucks at making up names. That's not the only suspect name, though. There's also this "Hinote" character, if that really is his name. Unlike Pietrangelo, this one was supported by visual evidence, so at least I know it's not just in the imagination of the announcer. But still. I'm supposed to believe that someone named Hinote completely coincidentally plays for the Blues, where he gets to wear a musical note on his chest every game? I don't think so. I'm a big fan of nominative determinism, but how do I know there isn't some Chad Ocho Cinco-esque name change action going on here? Add in the fact that "Polak" is apparently pronounced like the Polish slur and not like Jackson the painter, and I can't trust that anyone's name is real. At this point, I'm willing to bet that "Blues" itself is a completely fabricated title.

The Bluejackets also have entertaining names, but for different reasons. First of all, there are those names that completely caught me off guard. The first time Commodore was mentioned, I had to double check that we weren't playing Ottawa. (Serves me right for spacing out during the off-season, although it didn't freak me out nearly as much as realizing Darcy Tucker is all of the sudden in Colorado. When did that happen?) And the first time Novotny was mentioned I had to double check that we weren't playing a team from somewhere off the face of the earth, which is where I imagined Jiri fell when he left the Sabres. Of course, they also have a universally silly name in Tyutin, and a universally bitchin' name in Chimera, but the one that entertained me the most was Huselius, for the way it fit into the play-by-play call. "Huselius," when spoken, at least by RJ, sounds an awful lot like "his alias," which became particularly funny to me in the phrase "Afinogenov is intercepted by Huselius!" Me: "It's like Spy vs. Spy!" I think it may be the first time a Max interception has ever made me laugh. Also, unrelated to names, but am I the only one who thinks Pascal Leclaire looks a bit like a werewolf? A little fake fur and he and Staffy could have some kickin' haunted house Halloween parties.

Anyway, Sabres, do you see what you do to me (and this blog) when you force me to draw entertainment from something other than the brilliance of your play? Please play better against Pittsburgh tonight. I know it's probably too much to ask, but there's nothing for me to work with on that roster of names. The "Satan should be traded to the Devils" line is practically older than Teppo, you know?

Late Birthday Present?

Yeah, I think so.

Look! Look how sweet he looks there! And the little flash of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles brand mouth guard? That Yo-Yo, he knows just what I like. (Thanks to My Safety Is Harvard for the picture.)

And look who has ten goals all of the sudden! That twenty-mark doesn't look so far away now, does it? Just do me a favor, Yo-Yo, and never utter the sentence, "If I don't make it to twenty, I'm stupid."

So I know that for an ostensible hockey blogger, I haven't blogged about actual hockey in a long time. I blame the Sabres. If they could just decide on what kind of team they're going to be, I'd be able to better write about them. At this point, anything I write in reaction to one game will just end up being obsolete one game later, because apparently my hockey team wants to keep me on my toes. Sometimes they look, honest to God, like they could beat any team in the league if they just put their collective mind to it; other times they look like someone cut off their feet. It's so frustrating! Is it that hard to just decide to have feet?

The worst part is the problems are never the same. Sometimes it's the offense that's not clicking, recently it's been the defense that's been sloppy and disappointing. And sometimes, as was the case in L.A., everything is just wrong, wrong, wrong. Would it kill them to just choose a set of flaws and stick to them? Why must you refuse to be pinned down?! I want to put you in a box! Get in the box!!

Can the Doctor come out and play more often? Please?

On the subject of good news, the defense is fast getting healthy. Tallinder should be in tomorrow night against the Caps, and Kalinin shouldn't be far behind him. Yay! We sorely need those guys to come in and remind the Sabres how not to keep turning the puck over right in front of the net. And just for the record, while I'm a self-proclaimed Patches fan, I'm firmly on the play-Kalinin-and-sit-Paetsch side of that debate. (And for reals, that's even a debate?) Pratt has earned his spot for now, and I hate to think what a state Miller's crease would be in without him. Add in the fact that Teppo skated with the team in this morning's practice (EEEEEEE!) and we could have an interesting defense situation on our hands pretty soon. Hopefully that can lead to only good things.

In other belated birthday present news, last night I put in the order for the Hecht jersey that my boyfriend is buying me. The good news is that it's everything my hopes and dreams promised it would be; the bad news is that it might not arrive before I'm gone to Germany. Here's hoping for speedy delivery!

ETA:

The concentration! The intensity! The... Oh look! Something shiny!

Apparently some parts of my readership aren't happy unless I'm talking about Pommers 24/7. Luckily for me, he's a pretty good little hockey player, so there's usually plenty to say. He had a great night against the Islanders, getting three assists, including the set-up to the goal that made the above Yo-Yo picture possible. Good boy, Pommers! Here are some nummies for you:

You don't know it's not bacon!

Also, for anyone still thinking Paetsch should have a spot once Kalinin is healthy, take a look at this picture:

Would a good defenseman sit on Miller's head?

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.