Good Evening Gentlemen. Mr. Davidson Would Like A Word

Okay. It’s perfectly obvious now. Why it hadn’t occurred to me before, I’ll never know. Those dastardly fiends at Maple Leafs Sports and Entertainment have ripped open a hole in space-time and swapped our Covered-In-Glory 2007 Senators with the Bathed-In-The-Stink-Of-Gary-Roberts’-Junk Senators, circa 2002. Of course! How else to explain the sudden reappearance of our favourite wilting lilies from days of yore? I can’t. Can you?

Seriously. Just what the hell is going on? Everybody with a functional frontal lobe told them what they needed to do. Hit them. Skate. Hit them again. Muck it up on the boards. Keep hitting them. Get shots to the net. Look like you CARE goddammit. And to a man, the team nodded, agreed, promised to do just that. Yep. You betcha! Totally! RAH! WE’RE GOING OUT THERE AND…ah…play worse? 16 shots. SIXTEEN! Jesus wept.

Alright. That’s it for my rant. It took me about an hour last night to empty my Big Cauldron Of Rage but now nice Mister Doctor Guy says I’m all fixed. My patio set may need additional recovery time however. (Sorry Honey. We’ll get a new one. Promise).

Um…so now what? Well, now our wallflowers return to the friendly confines of the Bank, where the frenzied mob will surely motivate them to, oh…I don’t know…play the frickin’ game like they have since the middle of April?!? Whether that motivation stems from the adrenaline rush which comes from the adulation of an adoring populace or an acute (and quite real) fear of being lynched in the parking lot after another stinker, I don’t much care.

Just show us something. Anything. Please?

Deptartment Of Vaguely Disturbing Yet Surprisingly Apt Photography

The picture you see here was swiped from SI.com’s gallery (coverage so in-depth they’ve posted 8 whole pictures over both games. But I digress.) Considering what the Ducks have done to us so far, I’d say the angle is about bang on, wouldn’t you?

Much has been made today about Joe Corvo’s pirouette on the winning goal last night. And, yes, while it is preferable for one to actually face one’s opponent in these kinds of situations (or even better, put him on his ass), the goat horns aren’t entirely his alone. As Alan Muir points out:

In fact, it was a lazy turnover at the offensive blueline by Heatley -- one of 11 committed by the trio that night -- and a baffling free pass granted to Pahlsson by Alfredsson that allowed the Anaheim center to carry the puck 100 feet before punctuating the victory.

I would go a little further back than that, all the way to Spezza's lazy ass pass to Heatly through (of course) the middle. Heater couldn't handle it cleanly, hence the turnover. During last year's playoffs, I told everyone who would listen that Jason would someday cost us the Cup. Turns out, I may have been a year early.

To my fellow Sens Heads: Go easy on Joe. The last time he screwed up this badly, it took him six weeks to get back to normal. Stanley Cup Finals? He may actually go postal

Oh, and Alfie? Messier would’ve taken the penalty. Just sayin’…

Rink Side Blog: Are They History? [SI.com]

Okay, Class. What Have We Learned From This?

Everybody take a deep breath and calm down. Like you, I have no idea why the Binghamton Senators were sent to play Game 1, but I have it on good authority that the Ottawa Senators have indeed landed in Anaheim and will be taking part in the Finals, starting tomorrow. We thank the boys from Bingo for their valiant, if futile effort, and assure them that Happy Meals will be served on the bus ride home, as stipulated in their minor league contracts.

What happened last night was as predictable as it was brutal to watch. A nine day lay-off (someday, somehow Alexei Yagudin will pay for this travesty) plus the jetlag (call a huge “bullshit” the next time you here Bryan Murray say it isn’t a factor because “everyone is professional”. Bryan, “professionalism” is no defence against natural physiology. Or so I read in a law book somewhere) plus a Ducks team jacked up on the home crowd’s mojo, equals the worst complete game the Senators have played since Christmas, with the third being the worst period they’ve played since the sky was falling back in November. They were out hit (boy, howdy!), out hustled to every loose puck and out skated. The boys just ran out of legs.

Now, that said, the real danger is letting this ass-whuppin' (there’s no gilding this particular lily) turn into momentum. Here’s what needs to happen right from the puck drop tomorrow night:

1) Hit everything not in a white jersey until it screams, up to and including the peanut vendors. Then hit it again. Especially the vendors. I hate peanuts.

2) Shoot the damn puck!!

3) Chris Neil needs to pummel Brad May, or Corey Perry, or both. At the same time if need be.

4) SHOOT!!

5) Find the forecheck they had in the first three rounds. Shouldn’t be too hard to find. Check under the locker room bench. It should be right next to where Spezz left his manhood.

6) Did I mention that it would be a good idea to shoot some more, you know, just ‘cause?

Last night was Anaheim’s mulligan. The Quacks have shot their load, if ducks actually have loads to shoot (a mystery I am only to happy to leave to others). This Series starts tomorrow. Or, um, the next day. Or whenever the figure skaters give us our fucking ice back...

p.s.: Strangely, no word on how beside himself with glee Mr. Simmons may be. I’d keep an eye out though. The scent of smug is strong on this one.

Stanley Cup Finals -- Game 1: Upon Bryan's Signal Unleash Hell

Dear gawd, but it feels like these last 10 days have dragged forever. But we're here Sens fans. Pinch yourselves, you ain't dreamin'. Game 1 of the Stanley Cup Finals is thirty minutes away. And I, for one, am very warm and tingly in all of my special places.

I'm not even going to attempt a live blog on this. Not only can I count on any emotional stability at all, but the sweat on my palms keep causing myt fighhyngers toooolol slopslip off the keyboard.

My expectations tonight: Anaheim comes out like a house a-fire, crashing, banging, attempting to injure anything in white. The Senators (not too dopey from the lay-off...I hope...otherwise I'm making Bettman my bitch) have to weather the storm that will be the first five minutes. After that, the Ducks get themselves into penalty trouble and the boys go to work on a lethal powerplay. And if Marchant doesn't try to take out one of Alfie, Heater or Spez with a chicken-shit knee shot before the first period is over, I'll kiss a Leaf fan...on the mouth.

Final: Ottawa 4, Anaheim 1. Flangerotti!

p.s: I have to give a quick plug to the boys at Battle of Ontario. If you want a lively game thread, head there. I'll try to make it over myself...as soon as I stop throwing up.

Caution: Quasi-Serious Analysis Ahead

There are several reasons I don't go in for the whole "Serious Series Preview and Breakdown" here, not the least of which is that I'm not very good at it.

First: As you can probably imagine, I am hopelessly biased. If I were to preview, say, an Ottawa/Toronto playoff series (if such a thing were to occur again in my lifetime...HAR!), I doubt anyone would want to read a full page of balanced analysis ("Leafs SUCK and here's why!") in which I go into a five hundred word rant on why Darcy Tucker should never be allowed to procreate. Funny? Maybe. Useful? Not so much.

Two: Unfamiliarity with the opposition. If I had to guess (and my Beloved would be happy to point out...with a lonely sigh), I've watched roughly 85-90% of the Senators televised games this year. I can tell you if Mike Fisher is going to have a good game just by watching the first three strides he takes after the opening face off. I wouldn't know Ryan Getzlaf if I hit him with my car. Well, not right away, anyway. I'm sure the nice officer would introduce us.

Three: Winston Churchill once said that "Statistics are like bikinis. Interesting for what they reveal, absolutely fascinating for what they don't" Not only that, they're boring (um...the stats, not the bikinis. Bikinis are quite interesting). Dry analysis based on statistics mean nothing in the playoffs, and even less in the Finals. What matters most are things like effort and heart. Stats won't tell you who will go into a corner, or take the hit to make the play, and that's what wins Championships.

So...where does that leave me? With this:

The Ducks are a three-line/four D team. Ottawa can roll four lines all the time, all six defenceman can block shots and shut down just about anyone.

• Anaheim has logged more travel and time zone changes in the first three rounds than a drunken Delta pilot. Ottawa has yet to venture out of the eastern time zone.


• While the Ducks are the more physical team, Ottawa can play any way you want, and have the advantage of being, by far, the faster team. You can't hit what you can't catch.


• I managed to work in a Winston Churchill reference in a hockey post. C'mon, that's gotta count for something.

Senators in six. May God have mercy on avian souls.

In Unrelated News, Panama City Awarded Expansion Franchise

In a plea agreement reached with the New Jersey State prosecutor, it appears that Rick Tocchet won't get any jail time for running what has been described as "an illegal gambling ring". Gary Bettman remains suspiciously silent.

Personally, I don't much care about Tocchet's gambling habits. We've all joined a sports pool or two. Hell, some of us *cough* may be of passing acquaintance with...um..."independent wager facilitators."

He swears he's never bet on hockey. Does that mean I believe him? Hell no. Does it matter? Hell no. Why? Well, unlike a certain All Star baseball player, cum manager, cum pariah, Tocchet's Hall of Fame potential is basically zero. Two? The guy's in Phoenix for crying out loud. If he fixed a game to make sure the Coyotes would lose, how would you be able to tell?

Nope, the only reason I bring it up is that it gives me the opportunity to post the picture you see here. I have to confess, I find the uniforms of the New Jersey State Police absolutely hilarious.

Manuel Noriega gets out of prison in September. I think he may want his clothes back.

Tocchet Pleads Guilty to Gambling Charges [TSN.ca]

Oh Yeah?!?! Well, Keep Your Hot Babes. We Invented Time Zones! Take That!

Okay children, we're in the Finals! We're in the Finals with four days to kill until Game 1 (thanks again NBC. Sure there isn't a horse race somewhere? Jerks).

So anyway...We know what that means! That means it's time for everybody's favourite new game...Mock The Ducks! Um...Right. The Ducks. California...Er...Gotcha. I'm gonna bring it! Hide the women and kiddies! Here I come! Ah...okay. Ah crap. This was way easier with the Sabres (we told them it would be twenty-four degrees at game time, and they came by the busload, dressed up in parkas and ski masks. Gawd I love the metric system!).

I mean, really, how do you work up a good hatred for a team your team has played against once in two years? A team whose former name elicited more pity than anything else from Canadians ("Oooo...'Mighty' Ducks? Wasn't that a cartoon? Oh you poor dears. Who's going to want to play with that on their jersey? Have a beer. Just one, mind you. Wouldn't want you getting all crazy on us.") A team whose totally unexpected trip to the finals in 2003 actually made me want to root for them as the quintessential Rudy story? You can't. At least not before any games have been played. What am I going to do?

Can I make fun of their so-called "non-hockey market"? Can't do that. Not with Anaheim being so close to L.A., the same L.A. that didn't give a rat's ass about two, count 'em TWO, NFL teams but has had the Kings for 30 years. Nope, that's no good.

The citizenry? Well, these are the same folks who pioneered gay rights, hippies, women's beach volleyball (thank you), emission standards, tofu, and by inadvertent extension to this last, Whacking Day, in which Albertans take a day off from the ranch to beat Vegans with calcified steer ribs. In other words, everything that drives Republicans, and their close Canadian relatives, the right fringe of the Conservatives, absolutely batshit crazy (except for Whacking Day. They love that). For this we can only thank them.

I was starting to get desperate. Then, on a tour of the Interwebs, I came across the Battle of California (through Battle of Ontario, to which I was directed by a link on Deadspin, whose parent site, Gawker.com made fun of Tom Cruise, who co-starred in Jerry McGuire with Cuba Gooding Jr., who appeared in A Few Good Men with Kevin Bacon) I found disconcerting evidence of co-operation between camps!

So I gave up completely. I need some time. I need to do some research. Believe me, the only reason I'm not flying into a BLIND RAGE is that...um...you guys seem kinda harmless, in an amusement park kinda way (and you linked my little site on yours. Gosh. Thanks). Plus, Battle of Ontario is way better at this kind of stuff than I am.

But beware! The minute I find some dirt on you guys, you're toast! Get it? Losers? And you still have to keep Celine! Suckers!

p.s.: I'll actually get to my prediction on this series later in the weekend (oooh...guess who I pick?), but I first need to dig up as many embarrassing pictures of Micheal Eisner as possible.

UPDATE: KMS2, of Hockey Ladies Greatness was kind enough to point out that the Kings were admitted to the League in 1967 and are in fact 40 years old, not 30 as I stated above. I had it in my head that they came in during the expansion of 1974. Probably because of the uniforms. Seriously. Does anything say 1974 like Gold and Royal Purple? I think not. In a very groovy way, Five For Smiting regrets the error.

There's Always Room For Bat Boy!

People of Ottawa, this is your Mayor. This is your Mayor on drugs. Any Questions?

Hey Steve! Didja Hear? The Sens Are…Steve? Yo Steve! Where Are You Going?

It was with great anticipation (and not a little bit of glee) that I settled in Sunday morning to watch TSN’s The Reporters.

Considering what had happened the day before (what’s that girl? The Senators are in the Finals? Quick! Go tell Timmy! I think he’s by the well!) I was anxious to see Steve Simmons contort himself into linguistic knots trying to assure his fan that the hockey universe did indeed still revolve around the Air Canada Centre and that Ottawa, all evidence to the contrary still sucks. Dancing in my head were wonderful images of ole’ Steve-O flopping around on the desk like a gutted trout after being forced to say “Senators” and “Stanley Cup Final” in the same sentence, the gagging noises eventually reaching frequencies audible only to dogs, while staring bug-eyed into the wrong camera. Oh the glory of it!

Alas it was not to be. Imagine my chagrin, when Dave Hodge introduced the panel and Steve wasn’t on it. Curses! Not to be denied my IN THE FACE! moment, I picked up a copy of the Sun. Surely, I thought, there would something in the fetid swamp that is his Sunday column. He couldn’t possibly ignore us, could he? And what did I find there but… almost nothing.

Amidst the flotsam of his usual brain droppings, was a one sentence (of course) piece to the effect of “Gee, that Daniel Alfreddsson sure is good!”. I can’t remember the exact wording as I’ve thrown out the paper and the Canoe website seems to have “misplaced” that particular column in favour of his equally uninformative post from Detroit, but it’s close enough to the gist to stand up in court.

His silence can only mean one thing. He is currently ensconced in his Underground Hack Bunker preparing a hard hitting seven part investigative report on how a Senators Stanley Cup championship is meaningless because they didn't beat the Leafs in the playoffs.

This Just In! Buffalo Ousted In Overtime! NBC Shares Your Pain...On Its Cable Channel

In a move that could go down in the annals of broadcast history as one of the most compassionate gestures ever offered by a heartless multinational media conglomerate, the good folks at NBC decided to spare Buffaslug fans across the United States the final, gruesome death throes of their favourite team. They cut away from the Sens-Sabres overtime in order to go to their Preakness pre-race coverage, which consisted, for the most part of various representatives of the Horsey Set waxing poetic about their dead hero (um…come to think of it, I probably wouldn’t want to anger those folks either).

Unfortunately not all Sabre fans were so spared, as the NBC feed in the Greater Buffalo Area (if there is such a thing) was maintained. We are told that the seven people in the rest of the country who saw the end of the game when it was switched to Versus also feel very badly for the Slugs and their fans. So that’s something.

For you gentle readers who may think that all of those big, bad critics are being too hard on poor little NBC, SI’s Alan Muir leaps to their defence thusly:

“Just don't make out NBC as the villain here. While they could have held out for the extra 20 minutes, their position is defensible. After all, the Peacock Network pays a hefty sum for the rights to the highly rated Preakness. They simply share ad revenue for the rights to NHL games, and since there are no TV timeouts in OT, that's not a tough decision to make.

No, this one falls squarely on the sagging shoulders of the NHL. Instead of saving Saturday nights for Hockey Night In Canada, they've bent over backwards to provide NBC with the games it wants at the times it wants. And in giving NBC this game at this time with the hard deadline of the Preakness staring them in the face, they made the wrong decision.”

Other than the obvious question of why a two minute horse race needs a ninety minute lead-up, this raises some interesting points worth consideration. Namely:

1) Enraging loyal viewers is okay, because those loyal viewers aren’t buying enough toothpaste and dog food to make it worth NBC’s trouble to actually televise, you know, an entire sporting event, even when the League changed the timing of that event to suit NBC’s preference.

2) “Hard deadline”…for the pre-race?? Apparently, the good folks who control horse racing are quite insistent dat da coverage will commence at da time dey says so. Capice? Udderwise, somebody could get hoit.

3) We were completely unaware of the CBC’s covert plan to take over American airwaves and offer HNIC to our neighbours to the South. You GO Peter Mansbridge!

4) All of this is the Maple Leafs fault, naturally.


Pulling pucks for ponies. [SI.com]
ESPN Trots Out The Barbaro Crazies Again [Deadspin]

Of Glory! Of Victory! Of Near Head-On Collisions!

Why do we cheer? Why do we invest so much time, money and above all, emotion in what, for all intents and purposes, is a simple game played by others for their own benefit? It can't be for the players themselves. We don't know them, as much as we pretend to. We've never met them except in autograph lines, or perhaps at rare sightings at local restaurants. We know that the faces will change from one year to the next, whether because of free agency, the pursuit of bigger paycheques, or by our own actions (all of you who bellowed that the Captain should be traded back in November, please raise your hand).

So why is it that when they win, we are lifted along with them, in paroxysms of joy and ecstasy? And when they lose, we mope and grouse, devastated, through our day to day lives until the moment our heroes win again, thereby cleansing the sour taste of defeat, putting a spring in our step and a smile on our face. We are fully aware, that our own actions, thoughts and even prayers have absolutely no impact whatsoever over what happens between two teams. And yet we continue to wear our lucky socks, don the jerseys, engage in countless rituals, meaningless though they are, in order to ensure victory. It's irrational. We know it's irrational. And yet we do it. Why?

These are the thoughts that occurred to me when Alfie scored. Well, a little while later, really. At the moment Alfie scored, my wife and I were on our way to Ottawa and a long planned dinner date with our best friends. Having watched the entire game at home, I was forced to choose between standing up our friends, thereby incurring the scorn and calumny of my beloved, and watching what could be a multiple overtimes at home. Guess which option I picked?

As we made our way up Highway 31, the game on the radio, Alfie delivered me to the promised land. I yelled, I honked, I yelled some more. I swerved into the oncoming lane. My wife yelled. I yelled a little less and concentrated on what the hell I was doing. My wife yelled a little less. But as we got closer to Ottawa, oncoming traffic began honking at us, having noticed the flags flying from our windows. Soon, we were sitting at stop lights with complete strangers, honking and screaming at each other. Go Sens! All the Way BAYYYYBEEE!! WOOOOO! And I began to wonder a little bit, why? Why am I so goddamn happy because our professional athletes beat another city's professional athletes? Why?

Every first year sports psychology student worth his or her tuition will answer by citing things like "tribalism" and the comfort we find in a "community of the like minded" or, Heaven help us, by falling back on the tired cliche about how we, as fans (from the root fanatic after all) are somehow reliving, vicariously through mercenary athletes, the glory that escaped us in our own minor league youth, be it on the ice or the football field or baseball diamond.

And guess what? I have come to realize that I don't care right now. That's for the After. I don't care about what primeval motivations may be lurking in my reptilian brain. I'll examine those a little closer in the After. The Ottawa Senators are in the Stanley Cup Finals. MY Ottawa Senators are in the Stanley Cup Finals. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to stop my wife from washing my lucky socks.

Time To Get Your Dingo Monkey Crank On Ottawa!

One to go. One win from the promised land. It is a truly wonderous time to be a Senators fan. Sabres fan? Not so much. From Sabre Report:

"And, at this point, if you haven’t shown up for the first 3 games guys, don’t show up for the 4th. Save everyone a little time and money and let us get back to our lives. I think I’ll be madder at them if they actually win game 4 at this point than if they lose it."

Oddly enough, and precisely because I've been a Sens fan from the very beginning (well, 92-93...1932 is a little fuzzy but I do admire the snazzy threads), I can totally sympathize with the Buffalites. After all, we fairly wrote the book on the terrific-season/suck-moose-cock-come-playoffs.

"The truth is that this team got okay with losing and not working somewhere around January. What happened this week was the comeuppance for 4 months worth of bad habits, and we get to choke on it all summer."

This may not be my place to point this out guys, but, um...there is another game after all. Just sayin...

When I look back on Ottawa's playoff futility of yore, I seem to get particularly hung up on 1999. The reason escapes me, (selective amnesia. YAY!) but whatever the cause, I am suddenly highly aroused at the site of brooms.

Flangerotti!!

Sens and Sabres: Beyond Horrible [SabresReport.com]

They Like Me! They Really Like Me!

Before we go tonight, I'd like to take this opportunity to thank the fine gentlemen at Battle of Ontario (Super Happy Fun Game Thread!) and Sherry at Scarlett Ice for adding little ole me to the list of Sens blogs on their respective sites. My first! *sniff*...you guys *sniff*...are awesome. I'm flattered.

I'm hoping to see you guys on the weekend, but I can't promise anything, chock full of Mom's Day stuff as it is. If you get the chance, head over to the game thread at BoO tomorrow night. Be sure to poke Jared with anything emblazoned with Red, Black and Gold, if only to make him giggle like a school girl.

A few things we're musing for posts next week:

-- CBC may not be as couth as Anna Maria Tremonti would have you believe.

-- Darren Dreger, why does he hate so much? Discuss.

-- Where is Pierre McGuire's off button?

Until then, be safe kids. Go Sens, and G'Night!

Abandon Hope Buffalo! Pookie Is Concerned!. Can We Have Our Trophy Now?

If you're like me (and God help you if you are) then you're always interested in what the "other fans" are saying about your team. How did they see the game? What is the general mood after a win? After a loss (always more entertaining)? Can they really be that illiterate?

I was particularly interested in the opinions of Buffalonians (Buffalites?). I've been there a couple of times to attend Bills games and I have to say that, on the whole, I've always found them to be a friendly bunch. That is as long as they think you're on their side. If you're not, however, they will turn on you like a pack of rabid ferrets, albeit ferrets with better language skills (slightly) but with poorer motor control.

All that to say, I was planning a post on the Sabres' fan blogs and how, aside from the expletives, drunken ramblings and bad grammar, they were just like you and me, only dumber. But then life got in the way (see below) and now I've missed the hole shot.

It then occured to me...why would I go through all the research/angst/carpal tunnel when I can simply direct you to those who've already done it, and done it in a way far superior then I ever could?

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the post-game 1 Sabre round-up, courtesy of the more then capable scribes at Battle Of Ontario.

Pookie and her oracle. Beautiful work gentlemen. Simply beautiful.

On Effort, Omens, Goalies, and Magic Switches [Battle of Ontario]

Hey, This Interweb Thingy Still Works! Cool!

For the one of you who may stumble across this site from time to time on the way to free Girls Gone Wild thumbnails and wonder where the hell I've been for a week...well, let's just say that working for a living blows, and leave it at that.

Not that I haven't pined for you, dear misled reader. Oh, I have. But things just kept getting in the way. So without being maudlin...and by that I mean without being a seething cauldron of pent up rage and impotence...I will simply say "Oh MAN, the comedic potential of the last week was immense and I MISSED IT!!" and leave it at that. To wit:

• My favorite collumnist, after having his "Sundin is done!" story shot down in flames, came across as the petulent child he is on a guest appearance of TSN's Off The Record (the slouch was particularly funny).

• The New Jersey Devils, after their five game demolition at the hands of the Mighty Gigantic And Magnificent Ottawa Senators (YAY!), immediately began to look forward to next year by pointing fingers at, in order, their future Hall Of Fame goalie, their invisible euro-captain and the Don Corleone/Pillsbury Dough Boy love child himself, who fired the coach with two games to go, and took over. As a distraction to its passionate fan, the club reminded him that it could be worse. They could be moving to Newark. Wait...what?

• Sunday's edition of TSN's The Reporters featured the panel lamenting on the low scoring in this year's playoffs, putting forward so many idiotic ideas (Make the nets bigger! Go to 3-on-3! Spot the Leafs a two goal lead every game!*), I was in serious danger of a stroke brought on by the flood of potential post topics they were generating. Then a thoroughly enjoyable screaming match erupted over the Shane Doan Affair, in which I was fully expecting (and desperately hoping for) a Damian Cox leap across the desk, Jim Everett like, and throttle Simmons all the while screaming "the fucking camera is over THERE DUMBASS!!" Yeah...that would have been sweet.

• Finally...the unstoppable force that is Oleg Suprykin. Buffalo now quakes before him, erecting statues in his honour lest the people anger their new god.

There were many other things that streaked across my consciousness this week, but alas, I was powerless to unleash my inner smart ass by twisting them into empty, barely recognizable, but entirely more entertaining husks of themselves. So much work, so many idiots, so little time.

* May have been fabricated by an imaginative wombat. Maybe. I'll have to ask.

Newark Crime High, Study Says [New York Times]

No surgery for Leafs' Sundin: report [CBC.ca]

Hysterical Learnings For The Make Betterment To Glorious Nation Of Quebekistan

They, whoever the hell “they” are, say that we get the government we deserve. Until the 2004 U.S. Presidential elections, this was not a maxim in which I put much faith (sorry Yanks, but c’mon…you elected the guy again??). I now wonder what in the name of all that is holy did we Canucks, the peaceable and reasonably sane people we are, ever do to deserve this bunch of clowns.

OTTAWA (CP) - Hockey Canada officials launched an impassioned defence of their decision to appoint Shane Doan captain of Team Canada at the World Hockey Championships.
Hockey Canada chief Bob Nicholson told a parliamentary committee Thursday that a racial slur was certainly uttered during a 2005 NHL game but said it was not Doan who uttered it.

The surreal spectacle of hockey officials being grilled by politicians played out in a stately chamber on Parliament Hill, beneath a solemn portrait of the Fathers of Confederation.

The sheer volume of idiocy in this entire affair cannot but boggle the mind. Consider:

At the behest of the baying hounds on the Hill, Bob Nicholson flies from Russia (the cost of which it should be assumed, will be picked up by the taxpayer) to “explain” why Shane Doan was named captain of the national team.

The alleged slur against “those fucking frenchies” is almost two years old.

The NHL conducted it’s own investigation, again almost two years ago, and concluded that while they were fairly sure something to that effect had been uttered during the game, they were also fairly certain Doan didn’t say it.

Never the type of people to let the truth get in the way of histrionic hyperbole, federal members of Parliament demand an investigation. And here, we should note that the lead Hysteric is a member, while drawing a healthy salary from Canada, belongs to a party whose state aim is to break Canada into three easy pieces.

With the noxious fumes of a snap election wafting in the air, the other parties follow suit like lemmings over a cliff, and soon the torches and pitchforks are out all over Centre Block.

And finally, because I can’t make this point strongly enough: It has not been proven that Doan even said anything at all!

Leaving aside for the moment that one cannot make “racist” remarks against a group of people who don’t constitute an actual “race”; we have been treated to the sight of a private citizen, dragged through the mud for something he didn’t do for the political gratification and benefit of others.

I wanted to be funny. I truly did. And I tried really, really hard. But as I was writing this, my rage got ahead of me.

And so, on behalf of every right-thinking Canadian, I say this: I am ashamed. I am ashamed of the way Shane Doan has been treated. And I am ashamed to have voted for anyone in this group of self-serving, bottom-feeding, scum-sucking self agrandizing parasites who deign to call themselves Honourable Members.

Hockey Canada officials defend Doan's captaincy [Canoe.ca]

Hey Look! It's Bob McKenzie! And He Has A Badly Informed Opinion! Um, Sort Of. Almost. Gosh!

We have seen it a thousand times. A thousand times, from every conceivable angle, in every possible context, computer enhanced, blown up, and digitally mastered. And in every single circumstance, we are left...NAY!...we must come to but one conclusion. There was more than one shooter on the grassy knoll...Wait, what?!?

Now some of you may be aware of the simmering controversy (by which I mean there will be several strongly worded emails in NHL inboxes today from Conswella, the Brodeur's cleaning lady. At least three. Maybe four.) that Tom Preissing's goal last night, which ultimately proved the winner, should not have counted due to goaltender interference committed by Mike Fisher. Of course New Jersey thinks it was, Ottawa doesn't and this fan thinks Marty paid the price for a badly executed dive attempt (pssst...it helps if you fall down...just sayin'...).

Well fret no more children as none other than Robert "The Scottish Don" McKenzie weighs in with the definitive interpretation...sort of...well, maybe not...wouldn't want to risk the whole "Insider" status... Um...ENJOY!

Now based on our own analysis, there could have been a 'no-goal' call based on goaltender interference.

Rule 69.4 of the NHL's rule book states, "If an attacking player initiates any contact with a goalkeeper, other than incidental contact, while the goalkeeper is outside his goal crease, and a goal is scored, the goal will be disallowed."

Now Brodeur was situated with one foot outside his own crease and Fisher was also outside of the crease. The only debate is whether there was incidental or intentional contact. When the referee sees that clearly under normal circumstances, he could blow the whistle and disallow the goal without a penalty because the goalie was simply not able to do his job.

Your honour, please note that the witness says that there "could" have been a no-goal call, not that their "should" have been one. Also, we would like to draw the court's attention that the same scintillating decisiveness is demonstrated by the sentence "he could blow the whistle and disallow the goal...".

But finally, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I ask you to consider the statement that "because the goalie was simply not able to do his job" the goal should not have counted. Are we, ordinary hockey fans, to assume that this and this alone should be a basis to disallow a goal? Well I would submit the following: Ottawa enters the Devils zone on the rush. Mr. Brodeur, without any provocation, strips down to his jock strap, breaks into "Three Little Girls" from "The Mikado" and throws himself at the timekeeper, resulting in a 0.2 second delay in clock operation. The Senators subsequently score on that rush, a rush where the goalie "was simply not able to do his job". Should that goal be called back?

Please examine the tape. Back...and to the left. Back...and to the left. Back...and to the left. This was a goal.

G'night!

What's A Goal, What's Not A Goal [TSN.ca]

So, Mister Sundin. Will That Be Strained Carrots Or Mushy Peas Today?

As you may have heard, Mats Sundin, fearless and follicly challenged captain of the Maple Leafs, may require career ending hip surgery. I’ve never really detested Mats all that much, certainly not as much as I’ve come to detest most of the other people/animals/paedophilic janitors who’ve been involved with the Toronto Maple Leafs over the years.

Sure, I’ve hated him on the…ahem…rare occasions the Laughs knocked Ottawa out of the playoffs, and I can’t say I was all that fond of him after his little stick in the crowd tantrum, but detest him? On a Darcy Tucker, I-yearn-to-travel-back-in time-to-abort-his-freshly-conceived-zygote level? No, it’s never gotten that bad.

Which is why I’m of two minds on his impending possible retirement. On the one hand, well the guy is a Leaf after all. He had ample time to remedy that character flaw between the day he was traded for Wendy Clark and today. I’m sure there were any number of teams in the intervening years who found themselves in dire need of a bald, surly centre and would have been happy to sign him. But he chose to stay with the Evil Empire, so I’m tempted to let him lay in the bed he made.

On the other hand, Swedes (and this goes for all Swedes, up to and including their morose but incredibly hot women) are impossible to dislike that much. Consider: when was the last time you worked up a really furious lather during a Canada-Sweden game? Right! Never! Even when Canada got their ass handed to them 5-2 in the 2002 Olympic opener, we were all “Oh, that’s okay, its Sweden. They’re so cute, all tucked away up there next to Norway and Denmark…and Santy Clause”.

Granted things may have been different if it had been the Gold medal game (severed reindeer heads in Peter Forsberg’s bed spring to mind, but that might only be me). But it wasn’t, so we didn’t.

Which leads me to conclude that if this is the Cup-less end for Mats, I’ll feel a (very faint) twinge of pity for him and will always remember him as a quiet leader who was as classy as he could be and still stay on any team coached by Pat Quinn. Good luck Mats. But do go gently into that good night.

Sundin Needs Surgery [Toronto Sun]

Update: Battle of Ontario has a great take on various spins on this. I love conspiracy theories!

Update #2: Yes, I am aware of the irony in slagging Simmons on Sunday and then using his article on Tuesday, thank you very much. I didn’t say the boy couldn’t type, just that he couldn’t write. Big difference.