A better person wouldn't be so happy about the Washington Capitals becoming the first Number 1 seed to blow a 3 games to 1 lead to an 8 seed last night. Unfortunately, there's not one available right now.
Caps fans have been assuming the Stanley Cup was theirs by divine right since Christmas. Easily the best record in the league, team records in wins and points, and Alex Ovechkin, their designated "best player in the game." Two weeks ago, I passed droves of Caps fans walking into Metro on my way out, smiling, laughing, wondering if they'd win the best of seven series in three games; yesterday they passed me like men on their way to the doctor to get the verdict on that lump they found on their nuts.
Here's a bit of how they managed such an historic collapse:
- The league's best power play during the season--they scored on over 25% of their opportunities--converted only once in 33 tries. That's 3%. Yep. Three.
- Their league-leading offense--they scored 46 more goals than any other team during the season--scored three times--total--over the last three games. Yep. Three.
- The NHL likes to name its awards after people. The Art Ross Trophy. Conn Smythe. Vezina. Caps forward Alexander Semin qualified himself for anew one in this series: the Claude Rains Invisible Man Award. Forty goals during the season; none in seven playoff games. Yep. None.
- Mike Green bribed enough voters to qualify as a Norris Trophy finalist for best defenseman. Here's another new award suggestion: the Ronald Reagan Award, for most overrated.
Full props to the Canadiens. Goalie Jaroslav Halak stopped 131 of 134 shots over the last three games; his defense blocked almost that many, including an absurd 41 last night. Their Number 2 rated power play during the season didn't desert them like the Caps' did: they scored when they had to, even though consistently outplayed five-on-five. The Habs did what they had to do to win; the Caps did what they felt like doing, and never developed an answer for what Montreal threw at them.
All season, Caps fans have been acting like the Penguins were just renting the Cup, and it would take its rightful place in Washington this year. As I told someone a few weeks ago, after they beat the Pens to complete a regular season sweep: You're the champ until you're eliminated. Everything else is just talk.
Note to Caps' players: It's not all bad news. Most golf courses have reduced greens fees while the schools are still in session.
Showing posts with label hockey. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hockey. Show all posts
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Center Ice
I Brett Favre’d over the decision for weeks, finally got the NHL Center Ice package. This allows me to watch any NHL game I want; sometimes I’ll even be able to choose which announcing crew and feed I get.
This week showed me I chose wisely. New Jersey beat the Pens 4-1 on Saturday night (bummer), but we then switched over and caught the last minute of the Buffalo-Tampa Bay game in time to see Buffalo pull the goalie and tie the game, then win in a shootout. I doubt I’ll watch a lot of games other than the Pens, but it will be nice for those evenings I’m too tired/lazy/spaced to do anything but stare at the TV and can’t find anything worth watching on my 500 channel system. There won’t be too many evenings without some hockey.
More to the point of the purchase, the Pens beat Montreal 6-1 last night. I’ve seen nine of the Pens’ twelve games so far, and it’s nice to get a feel for how the team is playing. I’m learning to spot when there’s a good effort, and what kinds of plays that don’t show up in the box score can lead to goals. Sidney Crosby got his third career hat trick by the middle of the second period, and Chris Kunitz finally got a goal after eleven-plus games of doing all the dirty work. Kunitz also garnered three assists, mostly through doing little things I might not have noticed if I wasn’t becoming more hockey literate: not giving up on a play, being the “third man high,” and taking a beating to throw the puck from the corner to the slot. The Pen’s did nothing spectacular. It was a workmanlike effort, and suddenly I looked at the score and realized this was turning into a pretty good ass kicking.
This is going to make winter—aka The Season of Doom™--a lot easier to take.
This week showed me I chose wisely. New Jersey beat the Pens 4-1 on Saturday night (bummer), but we then switched over and caught the last minute of the Buffalo-Tampa Bay game in time to see Buffalo pull the goalie and tie the game, then win in a shootout. I doubt I’ll watch a lot of games other than the Pens, but it will be nice for those evenings I’m too tired/lazy/spaced to do anything but stare at the TV and can’t find anything worth watching on my 500 channel system. There won’t be too many evenings without some hockey.
More to the point of the purchase, the Pens beat Montreal 6-1 last night. I’ve seen nine of the Pens’ twelve games so far, and it’s nice to get a feel for how the team is playing. I’m learning to spot when there’s a good effort, and what kinds of plays that don’t show up in the box score can lead to goals. Sidney Crosby got his third career hat trick by the middle of the second period, and Chris Kunitz finally got a goal after eleven-plus games of doing all the dirty work. Kunitz also garnered three assists, mostly through doing little things I might not have noticed if I wasn’t becoming more hockey literate: not giving up on a play, being the “third man high,” and taking a beating to throw the puck from the corner to the slot. The Pen’s did nothing spectacular. It was a workmanlike effort, and suddenly I looked at the score and realized this was turning into a pretty good ass kicking.
This is going to make winter—aka The Season of Doom™--a lot easier to take.
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
Sport Imitates Life
The Detroit Red Wings beat the Pittsburgh Penguins twice this weekend at Detroit’s Joe Louis Arena to take a two games to none lead in the best four-of-seven Stanley Cup finals. After the game, NBC’s on-ice analyst Pierre Maguire said Pittsburgh wasn’t in trouble yet, as he thought no team was in trouble during a playoff series until they’d lost a game at home.
Maguire then threw it back to the booth, where play-by-play man Mike Emerick immediately said (without malice) that the team winning the first two games as home as a 31-1 record in Cup Finals.
My Penguins are in trouble.
Maguire’s assurance that all was well failed to take into consideration that Detroit gets the seventh game at home, if it goes that far, so Pittsburgh can win all its home games and still lose the Cup. It also now has to beat a team that had a superior record over an 82-game season four times out of five to win.
Pierre’s magnificent assurance in his beliefs in the face of indisputable facts reminds me of the arguments about evolution. On the one hand, Mr. Creationist has his beliefs, acquired because someone told him that was true. Mr. Evolutionist has an airplane hangar full of evidence.
You be the judge.
Let’s go Pens.
Maguire then threw it back to the booth, where play-by-play man Mike Emerick immediately said (without malice) that the team winning the first two games as home as a 31-1 record in Cup Finals.
My Penguins are in trouble.
Maguire’s assurance that all was well failed to take into consideration that Detroit gets the seventh game at home, if it goes that far, so Pittsburgh can win all its home games and still lose the Cup. It also now has to beat a team that had a superior record over an 82-game season four times out of five to win.
Pierre’s magnificent assurance in his beliefs in the face of indisputable facts reminds me of the arguments about evolution. On the one hand, Mr. Creationist has his beliefs, acquired because someone told him that was true. Mr. Evolutionist has an airplane hangar full of evidence.
You be the judge.
Let’s go Pens.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
The Frozen Four
We’re back from The Frozen Four, and, once again, I wish was as smart every day as I was when I told the Sole Heir to score those tickets. (Especially since I passed on buying them myself a year ago.) Personal observations will follow. Today I need to review the games themselves, as they still haven’t worked their way out of my system.
Thursday’s opening game was worth the trip. How were we to know it would be the least exciting game of the three? Miami of Ohio used its superior size to hammer Bemidji State through an even first period, then wore them down. Miami doubled Bemidji’s shots on goal in the second and third periods and won going away, 4-1, on an empty net goal.
Thursday’s nightcap was widely considered to be the championship. Boston University was the overall Number One seed, and Vermont was solid; Miami and Bemidji were fourth seeds who snuck in with hot weekends in their regional tournaments. BU had lost twice to Vermont during the season, but jumped out to a 2-0 first period lead. Vermont countered with three quick, unanswered second period goals, but BU tied the game late in the period. Vermont took a 4-3 lead midway into the third, but BU scored twice within 1:13 for a 5-4 victory.
Saturday’s game was supposed to be a formality, but, in the only planning mishap of the weekend, no one told Miami. They came out unintimidated by BU’s reputation and didn’t back down after falling behind a goal after one period, tying the game with a second period goal.
Tightly played through the first ten minutes, Miami began to assert itself about midway through the third period, to the extent The Sole Heir and I noted to each other that Boston had “better think of something or they’re in trouble.” Miami scored with about seven minutes to go, then with just over four left to make it 3-1 and Boston really was in trouble.
BU called timeout and pulled the goalie with 3:30 to play, which is a lo-o-o-o-ong time to leave the net open. The way Miami was playing defense, I would have bet on another 4-1 final. This is why I don’t bet. BU scored with 1:00 left, then again with 13 seconds to play to send the game into overtime. The noise after the tying goal was so great the sound backwashed in and out of my ears until it sounded like a siren.
Overtime in a hockey playoff is the most exciting, nerve-wracking thing in sports. First, it’s true sudden death. Each team has equal opportunity at the puck (unlike football), and the goal will likely come out of nowhere to end the game in an instant. Second, teams are always far more interested in scoring the winning goal than they are worried about giving it up.
Miami came out like the last minute of regulation never happened: confident and aggressive. Both sides had good scoring chances as the game went up and down the ice, until A BU player took a shot from near the top of the left face-off circle. A Miami player tried to block it, but his timing was a split second off. The puck deflected off his leg and floated end-over-end over the goalie’s shoulder and into the net. Game over.
A truly great game, regardless of the sport or level of play. The kind of game where, if you weren’t a hockey fan going in, you would be coming out.
Thursday’s opening game was worth the trip. How were we to know it would be the least exciting game of the three? Miami of Ohio used its superior size to hammer Bemidji State through an even first period, then wore them down. Miami doubled Bemidji’s shots on goal in the second and third periods and won going away, 4-1, on an empty net goal.
Thursday’s nightcap was widely considered to be the championship. Boston University was the overall Number One seed, and Vermont was solid; Miami and Bemidji were fourth seeds who snuck in with hot weekends in their regional tournaments. BU had lost twice to Vermont during the season, but jumped out to a 2-0 first period lead. Vermont countered with three quick, unanswered second period goals, but BU tied the game late in the period. Vermont took a 4-3 lead midway into the third, but BU scored twice within 1:13 for a 5-4 victory.
Saturday’s game was supposed to be a formality, but, in the only planning mishap of the weekend, no one told Miami. They came out unintimidated by BU’s reputation and didn’t back down after falling behind a goal after one period, tying the game with a second period goal.
Tightly played through the first ten minutes, Miami began to assert itself about midway through the third period, to the extent The Sole Heir and I noted to each other that Boston had “better think of something or they’re in trouble.” Miami scored with about seven minutes to go, then with just over four left to make it 3-1 and Boston really was in trouble.
BU called timeout and pulled the goalie with 3:30 to play, which is a lo-o-o-o-ong time to leave the net open. The way Miami was playing defense, I would have bet on another 4-1 final. This is why I don’t bet. BU scored with 1:00 left, then again with 13 seconds to play to send the game into overtime. The noise after the tying goal was so great the sound backwashed in and out of my ears until it sounded like a siren.
Overtime in a hockey playoff is the most exciting, nerve-wracking thing in sports. First, it’s true sudden death. Each team has equal opportunity at the puck (unlike football), and the goal will likely come out of nowhere to end the game in an instant. Second, teams are always far more interested in scoring the winning goal than they are worried about giving it up.
Miami came out like the last minute of regulation never happened: confident and aggressive. Both sides had good scoring chances as the game went up and down the ice, until A BU player took a shot from near the top of the left face-off circle. A Miami player tried to block it, but his timing was a split second off. The puck deflected off his leg and floated end-over-end over the goalie’s shoulder and into the net. Game over.
A truly great game, regardless of the sport or level of play. The kind of game where, if you weren’t a hockey fan going in, you would be coming out.
Thursday, December 04, 2008
Walk Softly and Carry a Hockey Stick
Maybe fighting and thugs aren’t quite as dead in hockey as some would have you believe. Witness the following sequence from last Saturday’s game between Minnesota and Nashville, won by The Wild 6-2.
With 6:50 gone in the second period and Minnesota leading 3-0, The Wild’s Stephane Veilleaux and Nashville’s Scott Nichol were each penalized five minutes for fighting. No shock there; the Predators were taking a beating and frustration may have bubbled over.
The ice was cleared and play resumed. At 6:53 (three seconds later), Minnesota’s Derek Boogaard and Nashville’s Wade Belak were each sent off for five minute fighting majors. The next fight didn’t erupt for three more seconds, when Craig Weller and Jordin Tootoo each got five minutes off.
The best part of the whole thing only becomes evident when checking the box score. Boogaard only had three seconds of ice time for the game, which means he came on the ice at 6:50 (when the clock was stopped for the first fight) and was gone at 6:53, when he got his penalty. He didn’t play again, even though 28 minutes remained in a blowout game after he was paroled.
A quick look at Boogaard’s record is interesting. He’s played 22 games this year, averaging a little under four minutes a game, based on his last five games, which are all I could find stats for. He’s managed to accumulate 30 penalty minutes in that brief ice time, which is an improvement over his historical norms, which show him averaging 2.26 minutes per game in the NHL, and 4.3 minutes per game in the minors.
Who says the new look NHL has no place for thugs? Seems pretty obvious Minnesota coach Jacques Lemaire sent Derek over the boards at 6:50 of the second to kick some ass. Dave Schultz, Tie Domi, and Bob Probert must be so proud.
With 6:50 gone in the second period and Minnesota leading 3-0, The Wild’s Stephane Veilleaux and Nashville’s Scott Nichol were each penalized five minutes for fighting. No shock there; the Predators were taking a beating and frustration may have bubbled over.
The ice was cleared and play resumed. At 6:53 (three seconds later), Minnesota’s Derek Boogaard and Nashville’s Wade Belak were each sent off for five minute fighting majors. The next fight didn’t erupt for three more seconds, when Craig Weller and Jordin Tootoo each got five minutes off.
The best part of the whole thing only becomes evident when checking the box score. Boogaard only had three seconds of ice time for the game, which means he came on the ice at 6:50 (when the clock was stopped for the first fight) and was gone at 6:53, when he got his penalty. He didn’t play again, even though 28 minutes remained in a blowout game after he was paroled.
A quick look at Boogaard’s record is interesting. He’s played 22 games this year, averaging a little under four minutes a game, based on his last five games, which are all I could find stats for. He’s managed to accumulate 30 penalty minutes in that brief ice time, which is an improvement over his historical norms, which show him averaging 2.26 minutes per game in the NHL, and 4.3 minutes per game in the minors.
Who says the new look NHL has no place for thugs? Seems pretty obvious Minnesota coach Jacques Lemaire sent Derek over the boards at 6:50 of the second to kick some ass. Dave Schultz, Tie Domi, and Bob Probert must be so proud.
Monday, December 01, 2008
The Way it Should Be
The Sole Heir’s Beau is a formidable hockey player. (I have it on good authority he’s even better at lacrosse.) Thanksgiving weekend brought a tournament conveniently located at the local rink, so we took the Parental Units over to see how we spend our free time.
Friday’s game was a 5-0 win, and so much fun we went back on Saturday to watch a 3-3 tie. Mom and Dad left Sunday morning, so The Sole Heir and I went back at 12:30 to see the championship game, with the winner advancing to a tournament in Canada next January.
You couldn’t see a more entertaining game at the Olympics. The Beau scored on a partial breakaway about five minutes in. That lead held up until a scrum cost our team the lead about midway through the second period. The game was a true goalies’ duel, both teams getting multiple scoring chances only to be stoned by the opposing goaltender.
Regulation ended 1-1, but there had to be a winner, as only one team could advance. The five minute overtime ended in a tie, so a shootout was called for. The teams would take turns with just a single skater trying to beat the opposing goalie. The team with the most goals after five attempts—all by different players—would win.
The visitors (from North Carolina) scored on their third shot, and it came down to our last chance. The goalie made most of a save, but the puck trickled through his pads and came to rest no more than six inches over the line. Still tied.
Now it’s the shootout version of sudden death: if they score, we have to match. If they miss and we score, we win. It went about ten rounds. Beau had the goalie set up for the same shot he’d scored on earlier, but the puck hopped on the chippy ice and he fanned on the shot. (Just as well; him shooting the winner would have been too much like a bad movie.) About ten shots in a Montgomery County player finally beat the Carolina goalie clean.
You would have thought they’d won the Stanley Cup the way they came screaming off the bench to bury the shooter, then turn as a group to engulf the goalie who kept them in the game. As hockey tradition dictates, both teams shook hands, then lined up to be called individually to receive their trophies, and run the handshake gauntlet again. Several winning players were detained in their round by losing coaches, who were genuinely happy for them, joking and slapping backs. It was as fine a gesture of sportsmanship as I have ever seen.
I hung with the Beau’s father after the game, waiting for the kids to come out of the locker room. “I think that last goal cost me about six hundred dollars,” he said, commenting on the price of the Canada trip. Huge smile on his face.
If you ever get tired of watching millionaire athletes bitch and moan about every little thing, go find a kids’ game somewhere, preferably at a level where no one has any real expectations of playing professionally. The play just as hard, if not as well, and there are few things in life as pure as the elation that goes with winning something for its own sake.
The way it should be.
Friday’s game was a 5-0 win, and so much fun we went back on Saturday to watch a 3-3 tie. Mom and Dad left Sunday morning, so The Sole Heir and I went back at 12:30 to see the championship game, with the winner advancing to a tournament in Canada next January.
You couldn’t see a more entertaining game at the Olympics. The Beau scored on a partial breakaway about five minutes in. That lead held up until a scrum cost our team the lead about midway through the second period. The game was a true goalies’ duel, both teams getting multiple scoring chances only to be stoned by the opposing goaltender.
Regulation ended 1-1, but there had to be a winner, as only one team could advance. The five minute overtime ended in a tie, so a shootout was called for. The teams would take turns with just a single skater trying to beat the opposing goalie. The team with the most goals after five attempts—all by different players—would win.
The visitors (from North Carolina) scored on their third shot, and it came down to our last chance. The goalie made most of a save, but the puck trickled through his pads and came to rest no more than six inches over the line. Still tied.
Now it’s the shootout version of sudden death: if they score, we have to match. If they miss and we score, we win. It went about ten rounds. Beau had the goalie set up for the same shot he’d scored on earlier, but the puck hopped on the chippy ice and he fanned on the shot. (Just as well; him shooting the winner would have been too much like a bad movie.) About ten shots in a Montgomery County player finally beat the Carolina goalie clean.
You would have thought they’d won the Stanley Cup the way they came screaming off the bench to bury the shooter, then turn as a group to engulf the goalie who kept them in the game. As hockey tradition dictates, both teams shook hands, then lined up to be called individually to receive their trophies, and run the handshake gauntlet again. Several winning players were detained in their round by losing coaches, who were genuinely happy for them, joking and slapping backs. It was as fine a gesture of sportsmanship as I have ever seen.
I hung with the Beau’s father after the game, waiting for the kids to come out of the locker room. “I think that last goal cost me about six hundred dollars,” he said, commenting on the price of the Canada trip. Huge smile on his face.
If you ever get tired of watching millionaire athletes bitch and moan about every little thing, go find a kids’ game somewhere, preferably at a level where no one has any real expectations of playing professionally. The play just as hard, if not as well, and there are few things in life as pure as the elation that goes with winning something for its own sake.
The way it should be.
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
And They Say There's Justice
I’m depressed. Marian Hossa has left town.
For those who are not devoted puckheads, Hossa is a world-class right winger. (Hockey player, dumb ass. Grover Norquist or Karl Rove could leave town in a pine box and I’d dance like the best man at a Greek wedding.) Picked up late last season by Pittsburgh’s Penguins, he has gone to join the team that beat them in the Stanley Cup finals, the Detroit Red Wings.
It was always at least even money Hossa would leave after the season, but Detroit? He got within one game of carving his name in the cup with Pittsburgh last month; I guess seeing the Wings skate around with it made him think he could get it done there next year. Here’s a news flash: you could have got it done in Pittsburgh next year, Marian, and you wouldn’t have to live in Detroit.
The salaries were about the same, except Pittsburgh’s was for five years, and Detroit’s for just one. Taking a one-year deal with Detroit is easy to understand; pledging to spend more than one year of your life in Detroit is crazy talk, $7 million a year, or not. I’m sure Pittsburgh would have offered him a shorter deal; they thought they were doing the chump a favor.
Hossa came to the Burgh with the reputation of disappearing during the playoffs. The Pens worked with him, put him on Sidney Crosby’s line, did everything but put Kolache on his pillow at night, to help him overcome his history as a choker, and it worked. What thanks did we get? He blew town like hovno through a husa.
This is how Detroit operates; it’s a parasite. Called itself the “Arsenal of Democracy” during World War II, because it manufactured tanks and trucks and planes. Manufacturing jobs on an assembly line. Tighten this rivet. Balance a tire. Line up an engine mount. Like building one of those particle board desks you can buy at Target.
It was harder? They used steel, you say? Where did the steel come from? It came from a smaller city with broader shoulders, where brave men slaked the thirst of ravenous molds with white-hot rivers of molten steel. Detroit built its reputation on the backs of Pittsburgh’s labor. It got Grosse Pointe and Greenfield Village; we got pollution. And how do they repay us? Taking Marian Hossa.
Bastards.
For those who are not devoted puckheads, Hossa is a world-class right winger. (Hockey player, dumb ass. Grover Norquist or Karl Rove could leave town in a pine box and I’d dance like the best man at a Greek wedding.) Picked up late last season by Pittsburgh’s Penguins, he has gone to join the team that beat them in the Stanley Cup finals, the Detroit Red Wings.
It was always at least even money Hossa would leave after the season, but Detroit? He got within one game of carving his name in the cup with Pittsburgh last month; I guess seeing the Wings skate around with it made him think he could get it done there next year. Here’s a news flash: you could have got it done in Pittsburgh next year, Marian, and you wouldn’t have to live in Detroit.
The salaries were about the same, except Pittsburgh’s was for five years, and Detroit’s for just one. Taking a one-year deal with Detroit is easy to understand; pledging to spend more than one year of your life in Detroit is crazy talk, $7 million a year, or not. I’m sure Pittsburgh would have offered him a shorter deal; they thought they were doing the chump a favor.
Hossa came to the Burgh with the reputation of disappearing during the playoffs. The Pens worked with him, put him on Sidney Crosby’s line, did everything but put Kolache on his pillow at night, to help him overcome his history as a choker, and it worked. What thanks did we get? He blew town like hovno through a husa.
This is how Detroit operates; it’s a parasite. Called itself the “Arsenal of Democracy” during World War II, because it manufactured tanks and trucks and planes. Manufacturing jobs on an assembly line. Tighten this rivet. Balance a tire. Line up an engine mount. Like building one of those particle board desks you can buy at Target.
It was harder? They used steel, you say? Where did the steel come from? It came from a smaller city with broader shoulders, where brave men slaked the thirst of ravenous molds with white-hot rivers of molten steel. Detroit built its reputation on the backs of Pittsburgh’s labor. It got Grosse Pointe and Greenfield Village; we got pollution. And how do they repay us? Taking Marian Hossa.
Bastards.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Looking a Gift Horse in the Mouth
Washington Capitals fans are in full self-pity mode today, after losing Game 7 of their first round Stanley Cup playoff series in overtime. One of the players was quoted to the effect that beating Philadelphia would be hard enough without having to beat the refs, too.
Waaa.
The Caps had to live with a tough, but proper, no-call that cost them a goal. The penalty that left them shorthanded for the game winner had to be called, or there was no point in even bringing the referees onto the ice for the overtime.
It all worked out for the Caps and their fans. Now they can cry in their beer about how they got jobbed in overtime of a seventh game, instead of spending the summer licking their wounds after Pittsburgh swept them in four games, which is what would have happened had they advanced.
Some people don’t know when they have it good.
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