While watching the Philadelphia Flyers lose Game 1, 7-3, on home ice...one factor of the ineptitude stood high above the rest. It wasn't Philly's inadequate PP (no goal during a 5 on 3) or their concerning team defense. It wasn't their lack of fire or questionable coaching decisions (4th line against the 1st after a TV timeout...). It was their goaltending (shocker, I know...I'm probably the only one...).
Man is Philly's goaltending shaky.
Scary shaky.
Potentially series-ending shaky.
Philly's goaltending barely got them out of the first round and I'm not totally sure it can even compete in the second (though the series is young). Boucher seems strong at times, but inadequate at others. Bobrovsky can hang in there, but he's not scary. Leighton? Well, I dunno...
If I'm a Flyer, I'm concerned. If I'm a Flyers' coach, I have nightmares and wake up in a cold sweat.
If I'm a Flyers fan, I wonder why the hell the Flyers didn't pick up (ready for it?) Craig Anderson at trade deadline.
Hear me out (if you're still reading this). In Colorado, Craig Anderson had a 3.28 GAA and a .897 SV% in 33 games. Not good. However, after the Senators managed to dupe the Avs into taking Brian Elliot for him straight up, Anderson's numbers improved to a 2.05 GAA and a .939 SV% in 18 games, kicking off game one as a Sen with a 47-save shut-out. (Trust me, that one hurt...)
And last season, despite playing behind a rather abysmal Avs defense, Anderson's numbers were incredible. A 2.63 GAA and .917 SV% in 71 games. And who could forget the 51-save shut out against the Sharks in Game 3 of the playoffs? It was absolutely remarkable.
Anderson's final numbers this season? Not terrible.
At all.
Behind the Flyers' defense, I'd argue Anderson could have easily returned to form (hell, he looked good behind Ottawa's awful defense...). It's a gamble, because there's no promise Anderson would have rebounded, but could he really be any worse than Boucher, Bobrovsky, or Leighton? And since the Avs apparently have no interest in making smart trades (sigh), they might have taken someone like Leighton in return (despite Leighton having been on waivers. Who knows? Maybe it would have cost the Flyers Bobrovsky in which case, the trade isn't worth it).
And what about salary? The Flyers are basically at the ceiling with $1.4 million to spare. Craig Anderson's cap hit? $1.3 million. Surely the Flyers could have shed just a little bit for that.
Maybe it was never on their radar. Maybe they thought they'd be fine. Maybe they still think their D-corps will be enough. Maybe they aren't worried.
Since it will become very clear, in the blogs-yet-to-come, just how I feel about the Detroit Red Wings, I may as well come out with it now: I. HATE. Them. I respect them, and who couldn't, but I really, really hate them.
The Wings are a DAMN good hockey franchise. They've made the playoffs for 20 straight seasons. They have multiple NHL Award-winning players on the roster (no Dats for Lady Byng this year though. You fight, you ruin everything...). and an impressive supporting cast as well (who doesn't love the way Darren Helm plays hockey?) To top it off, they have a rich history and good fans (except during that whole "Dead Thing Era". Man was that embarrassing...) who are usually fairly well versed in all things hockey.
The Red Wings may in fact be the only thing holding Detroit together.
This changes nothing.
I. HATE. THEM.
In full disclosure, my team is the Colorado Avalanche (right, that explains it all, doesn't it?). Hating the Red Wings has been about as easy as breathing since 1996 (though the Nords weren't too keen on that team in Detroit either). It's a permanent fixture in my life and will never, ever change. Ever. (And for those of you who have joke about my soul mate being a Wings fan: First of all, if soul mates existed, mine would not be capable of Red Wings fandom. And secondly, if that ever happens, fast forward 70 years to a 95 year old me, single and alone with a bunch of cats).
The hatred did NOT get any better when the Wings signed Todd Bertuzzi...and when Todd Bertuzzi starting playing like Todd Bertuzzi again.
That sucked. A lot. (And no, I'll likely never let 'the Steve Moore incident' go)
So it's well established. The Red Wings and I are like the Hatfields and the McCoys (does anyone really understand that reference anymore? If not, Wiki saves the day), except there will be no peace, no agreement to stop the hate. No Family Feud in which the winner gets a pig.
It will never get better.
(Ignore the fact that I've been able to maintain fairly good friendships with various Wings fans...or the example is moot point).
Hating the Red Wings can be inconvenient at times. Ah, plainly, they win a lot. A whole hell of a lot. And always at inopportune times. (One fact my Red Wings fan brother likes to point out is that the Wings happen to win almost every single year I graduate, thus running an otherwise joyous occasion. 1998-8th grade, 2002-high school, 2006-undergrad. Mercifully, the Canes took it that year. 2008-nursing school. I'm in grad school now, with plans to graduate in 2012. Please Wings, NOT this one...).
One time hating the Red Wings is neither inconvenient nor inopportune? How about when some inventive Sharks fan, (who you can and should Like on Facebook) crafts an absolutely brilliant costume-representation of the unfortunate, Jaws-like demise of a Red Wings fan.
You know you're getting old when you no longer have a grasp on the "the next big name" on NFL Draft Day. Five (sigh) years removed from undergrad, I found myself completely LOST this year.
"Cam Newton...that QB from Auburn? The guy who changed schools like 20 times (okay, yeah, three. I exaggerate) and has a brother with a bribing problem? That guy?" (::Enter sad flashback in which I remember Auburn beating Oregon in this year's BCS Championship game:: Yep, forgot that for a second too).
"Hmm...Broncos take Von Miller. Well, none of my Broncos-fanatic friends seem all that unhappy about it. And God knows we need a good outside linkbacker. But A&M?! Ugh..."
"Nate Solder, eh? Hm, well, he's A CU boy taken in the first round. That doesn't happen very often..."
NFL Draft Day used to be like a holiday for me (not a major one, mind you. Kind of like Flag Day). Shrug off past-season's failure (and if you're a Broncos fan like I am, there was a lot of failure to shrug off), welcome the new guy, start hoping he's your missing piece, shamelessly envision the next Lombardi (I actually really don't do that last part. Seems like too much of a jinx to me).
Not this year, friends. This year, I was completely caught off guard. I forgot (FORGOT) it was draft day. In fact, this year, about the only thing I knew for sure was that the Broncos were picking second.
What. Has. Happened to me?!
I was never totally on top of the NCAA. I follow college football occasionally, always making sure to watch the BSC Championship, and I always fill out a March Madness Bracket (whole lotta good that did me this year). Other than that, it's pro sports, pro sports, pro sports...
...but around the NFL Draft, I start doing homework, like a good little sports-freak. I read about possible draft picks, track down YouTube footage, examine 'expert' opinions.
The NFL Draft rarely catches me off guard but this year...well...
Isn't it funny what one in a million cameras will catch? Like this tender moment between Ryan Kesler and Henrik Sedin.
Cute right?
Seriously though, I really could not care less what men do in sports-celebration (ah, to a point...). I have brothers and guy friends. I've seen and heard things that either shattered any illusions I had about normalcy, scarred me for life, or forever changed the person I am today.
You gotta give it to em though...these guys deserved to celebrate. I mean, c'mon: After blowing a 3-0 series lead in Round 1, they finally tamed the curse that is the Chicago Blackhawks (now if only the Cubs could tame the curse that is...being the Cubs) in Game 7. I can't say I'm happy for the Canucks, but I am happy for the guys who were on the ice in Canucks jerseys (if that makes sense). It sucks to have a team who always owns your ass. Getting past that team is like Christmas, your birthday, and a winning lotto ticket all rolled into one. Hell, I would have probably kissed a teammate full on the lips if we'd ever beaten Homestead's swim team. But we never did. Not even close. So squash those fantasies...
There's just something about this picture though...something I can't quite put my fing...
...Oh right, it looks a bit familiar...
I hate to break it to you Henrik, but, as much as it pains me to say this, Rob Pattinson is prettier than you...
...and Kesler, you ain't got nothing on Kristen Stewart.
Take down that Twilightesque hockey team up north, Nashville...
This is what happens when finals and a booked TiVo happen during two Game 7s:
Thanks to American Idol and America's Next Top Model (not my shows...) and exactly one television with a cable jack in our 100 year old house, this is how I spent Two Game 7s Night - Round Two. A lot of hockey jammed onto a MacBook screen, eh?
(Notice my lame attempt at completing a gigantic group project while two fantastic hockey games are in progress. FAIL)
Do you have any idea how disappointing it is to be shoved off the Stanley Cup Playoffs by Tyra Banks and wanna-be singers. This must be how sports-fanatic men feel when their non-sports loving women want to go to...say...the ballet during the Super Bowl.
If the ballet were fieerrccee and made ones ears bleed...
I managed to see bits and pieces of two games and wrote exactly three pages on my intervention section for Planning. Just enough to get my fix and just enough to procrastinate on my (horrifically failed, miserable) group project.
I wish we had more than one TV in this house. For playoffs. Otherwise...meh (I'm learning more and more that I don't watch 'normal people TV. That includes you, The Office).
Pens out, Habs out. At least the East is doing it right...(damn West).
Hats off to both teams. Dan Bylsma deserves a LOT of credit for getting the Pens into the first round without Crosby and Malkin. And the Habs...I really thought there were times they were going to send the B's packing. (Almost did...)
Having lived in Colorado almost my entire life, I never really understood the benefits of living in Mountain Standard Time in terms of what it did for my hockey addiction. In good ole' MST, East Coast games typically start at 5, so even though you may miss the first period, the game is in full swing by the time you get home from work. Throw down your stuff, crack open a beer (I don't really love beer, so usually, it's 'crack open a bottle of Propel'), and unwind to the glorious sounds of sports. And later on, the West Coast's games start, a bedtime story for sportsaholics.
MST was a sports-addict's heaven. Perfection in a schedule. Things were good...
...until now, when I find myself living in Washington DC, three solid time zones away from Pacific where games typically start at 10 PM and go as late as 1 AM. Because I'm in grad school, late games don't really bother me (grad students don't sleep...), but they do set me vastly apart from almost everyone else I know here. "Did you see that Chicago Vancouver game?!" "No...I was in bed by 9:30". Blah.
Additionally, as I get older, I gain an acute sense of just where being a sports fan slots you into the world. Unless they are sports fans themselves, women typically don't 'get' you and unless you're outrageously hot, men typically think you're strange.
Since there's no changing being a sports addict (I'm fairly certain this characteristic is inserted into DNA, either at conception or through some intricate viral process, like AIDS...only not like AIDS), I have no other choice but to embrace it. This, however, creates some unique problems/situations/happenstances. Like when the Vancouver Canucks ruin your life at 1:04 AM and there's no one else around to commiserate with (except for everyone on iChat. Thank you Turnbull, Jeremy, Aaron, and Chad...)
It went something like this...
7:00 PM - Came home after a long day of studying with some friends from school practically bubbling over with excitement over the notion of not one but TWO Game Sevens in one night. I attempt to bestow this fantastic tidbit of information on my roommate, Katy, but after a minute of politely enduring my ridiculous hockey love, she starts to look at me as though I'm speaking Chinese.
7:05 PM: Taking the hint, I head upstairs and turn on the B's/Habs Game 6, simply bidding my time until the Flyers/Sabres Game 7.
7:22 PM: Um, yeah, Thomas did not have that puck covered.
7:40 PM: Drop the damn puck in Philly already...
8:39 PM: Lucic absolutely demolishes Spacek. In other news, grass is green.
8:40 PM: Yeah, the Flyers/Sabres game is over. As in 'clearly the Sabres have quit' over. As in 'Are you kidding me? This is Game 7?" over. Over. Poor Sabres. At least some nice billionaire owner will "drill another well" to put talent on the ice in Buffalo. Lucky bastards.
8:41 PM: Why is my billionaire owner a basketball-loving jerk who won't spend above cap basement on his hockey team, even if means sacrificing fans, respect, first round draft picks, etc.? Not like the dude has standards or anything. He co-owns the Rams for Christ's sake...
9:30 PM: Okay seriously...just start the Nucks/Hawks game
10:15 PM: No delaying that start, eh? Versus switches to the game in Vancouver just in time for viewers to have missed the opening goal. Meh. No big, there's sure to be more where that came from...
10:45 PM: Right?
11:30 PM: Um...right?!
11:35 PM: Apparently the Nucks of Games 1-3 decided to show up tonight.
12:00 AM: Crawford is the only reason it's not 5-0 right now.
12:12 AM: All night I've been trying to find a reason why Brian Campbell is not supremely overrated. I can't.
12:26 AM: Me and a few other people with whom I'm chatting attempt to jinx Roberto Luongo with words like "shut out" and "amazing" and "who's the headcase now, bitch?". Not working.
12:30 AM: Still not working. God damnit.
12:33 AM: Dear God, why do you hate hockey so much that you would allow the Canucks to advance to Round 2? It doesn't seem right or very just to me. Not cool, God. Not cool. -Shaela
12:34 AM: I become keenly aware the rest of the house is sleeping...which deems the cursing out of Chicago for their game-ruining penalty with three minutes left inappropriate and unkind. Fuck you, Chicago. Why would you continue to allow me to be subjected to any more "Luo!"s this playoff season? Every mundane, textbook save does not deserve a "Luo!" and you're completely fuc...
12:36 AM: OH MY GOD!!!!! TOEWS SCORES!!! YES YES YES YES YES YES YES! I can't yell but I can TYPE IN CAPITAL LETTERS AND USE EXCESSIVE EXCLAMATION POINTS TO GET MY POINT ACROSS!!!! IF I COULD I WOULD MARRY THAT GOAL!!
Still 12:36 AM: I can't yell but I can THROW MY HANDS UP IN THE AIR IN CELEBRATION AND KEEP A RIDICULOUS SMILE ON MY FACE!!!
12:40 AM: Headed to OT, baby. Time to get the power cord for the laptop. This could be a long one. I hope...
1:00 AM: Why must you look like you want to lose this game, Chicago?
1:04 AM: NOOO!!!!!!!
NO NO NO NO NO NO NO! WHY BURROWS? WHY?! I can't yell but I can SWEAR IN EVERY CHAT BOX I'M TYPING IN RIGHT NOW! I can't yell but I can FEEL AS THOUGH I MIGHT VOMIT.
1:05 AM: Deep breaths. Normal people are sleeping.
1:06 AM: UGH! DID THAT REALLY JUST HAPPEN?!
Still 1:06 AM: I. AM THROWING. A SILENT TANTRUM
1:07 AM: Utter despair sinks in. But at least I don't have to give a shit about Chicago anymore. That made me feel pretty dirty.
1:08 AM: Enough with the God damn highlights already. TV off.
1:15 AM: Begin the skeleton of a plot to waterboard Chris Campoli to Celine Dion. Who the fuck makes that pass in Game 7 with that much room?
Still 1:15 AM: Okay, seriously now, reign it in, Shales.
1:20 AM: My life is ruined. The Vancouver Canucks have ruined my life.
1:21 AM: Okay, not really. But still...
Sometime around 3:45 AM: Last thoughts before passing out? Fuck. You. Alexandre. Burrows.
