hockey will tear us apart

la fin

2009-02-04T11:05:00.005-05:00

Dear hockey fans,

I have moved on, but I am leaving this site as a virtual testament to our former greatness, whatever that means. I wrote this blog for a long time, and I'm fairly proud of it. (I think I picked a good time to stop blogging, chronicling our demise might have been too depressing for a drama queen like me.)

You are welcome to read more of my writing at Nocturns, but it's not hockey related. I'm not sure what it's about yet -- pondering of existence punctuated by panic...

Curses

2007-11-26T00:55:00.000-05:00

Have we been here before?

Two goalies, no great starter. Blown leads. A Spezza injury, followed by a devastating (but short) Alfredsson injury. Sloppy, sloppy defensive work and a languid offense.

Each slump is new in circumstance and context but ultimately it comes down to the same goddamn thing: no goaltending, no defense, no offense, and no wins. No confidence, no smiles. This too, shall come to pass.

Forget about the players having a Stanley Cup Finals hangover. I have a damn hangover. I can't watch hockey for more than a few minutes without thinking of the damn playoffs and those damn Ducks and how long the season is before anything matters, how nothing was easy and conversely the ease with which the Senators played was a small miracle. I cannot practice the Zen art of hockey watching anymore, unless it's a team that I don't care for. Like the Chicago Blackhawks. And even then I am more amusing myself with Patrick Kane's angelic curls and pondering Toews' possible Mennonite roots than actually watching, watching them.

Am I losing interest?

Is this what it feels like to be on the other side of the divide? To be sickened by hockey, to have the nerve to say "fuck hockey" and change the channel to watch Gossip Girls?

Yet it's not like I can stay away from hockey news, from knowing what the score is, who's in net, who took too many penalties, and who handed out whiskey to a homeless dude in Montreal. I just can't fathom why the hell the season has started already and we've already finished a quarter while I'm still thinking about what went wrong in Anaheim. The start of this regular season has felt like an overblown epilogue to the real story that's already ended.

Please don't strip me of my hockey stripes just yet. I don't really watch Gossip Girls.

While watching the Leafs lose the game in the first period, I really enjoyed the film "Rhino Brothers" on CityTV. It's the story of a precariously professional hockey player who tries to quit hockey. He returns home to his overbearing, ambitious mother and his bitter brothers. The mother stiffly accuses his fiancé of distracting him from the ice and reminds him constantly of his points, goals, assists, ice-time … his older brother, a failed minor-leaguer, seethes in the background as an example of what happens when a hockey career fails.

The film really made me think about what happens when hockey fails. The theme of failed dreams isn't exclusive to hockey, but I find that often hockey, especially, is full of those clichés -- "perseverance," "fight through the pain," etc. Dedication, suffering through body checks and roster cuts are the ultimate badge of what it means to be a real hockey player -- one with "heart," you might say. But my god, metaphors of the ice can't be applied to the real world that easily. Hockey exists in a vacuum in that sense. As much as we glorify the "gritty" player for his heart, the player has to be constantly aware that he's an injury or a bad off-season away from losing his job. A player can try as hard as he wants but when he has marginal talent, no amount of blood, sweat or tears will ever make up for it.

What a cruel, cruel world.

How many of those real-life minor leaguers are playing in the leagues of Texas? Italy? How many of them still dream of being called up? When does hockey stop being love and start being a curse?

Clear Eyes, Full Heart, Can't Lose

2007-11-02T17:49:00.000-04:00

Why I Love The Ottawa Senators
Chris Phillips

There is one TV character that reminds me of Chris Phillips, a younger, more socially awkward Chris Phillips. Matt Saracen, quarterback for the Dillon Panthers, plays football in a backwater, football-centered Texan town, takes care of his aging, senile grandmother by himself, deals with a sweet, naive but bratty, girlfriend/ex-girlfriend. He's quietly possible the most mature character on the show.

And you won't find any recent, long, emotional stories about Chris Phillips. He doesn't block shots heroically to win the hearts of young girls everywhere; he hasn't scored any key goals lately; he hasn't founded a school for young girls in South Africa. He probably will never attract much attention outside of Ottawa, but he has one of the most intriguing stories of any player.

He had a compelling story to tell about how he gained an inner strength at home, where he had to grow up quickly and learn the meaning of responsibility. Phillips didn't have time to be a kid. His mom was partially paralyzed by a virus that affected her spinal cord. His dad was 90 percent blind. Yet Chris and his sister, Jennifer, acted like it was no big deal to give of themselves when their parents needed them.

..

After doing countless interviews, Phillips quietly left the Kiel Center, pushing his mother's wheelchair. His father, holding on to one of Chris' belt loops, followed.

You often can paint pictures of how an athlete gives and gives in competition, but you never can get more inside an individual than I did at that moment.

To a certain degree, not many people completely regret the terrible things that happened to them in childhood. All the little slights of adolescence disappear. Chris Phillips doesn't lead so much as he exudes a sort of emotional confidence. It's not the coldness of Wade Redden nor the quiet determination of Alfredsson, but he knows it's not the end of the world if we lose, it won't be the beginning of the world if we win, and there is no strength like the strength inside.

Jason Spezza
$49 millions over 7 years, when most people predicted $8, $9 million on the outside market.

He loves us, doesn't he?

I mean, it's hard to know if a player really even likes where he's playing, or if he's accepted it with a sort of grimness.

Besides cheesy TV segments, the only way to really show your loyalty and appreciation of the team and fans is through money.

The players really feel it too, don't they?

Still, we can't ignore the irony that a few years ago, Hossa's untenable $6 mil contract forced a trade, as we celebrate the wonderous occasion of this signing. 2 years later, Heatley has already re-signed, and Hossa has not ...

-

Also, watch Friday Night Lights!

Forsberg to Ottawa?

2007-10-23T09:53:00.000-04:00

According to Bruce Garrioch, Forsberg has narrowed his choices down to Colorado or Ottawa.

I know it's Bruce Garrioch, but here's a list of things I would do to get Forsberg here:

* Give him my spleen.

* Change the language on my iPod to Swedish. Just for him.

* Name my dogs Peter and Forsberg. (Okay, I don't have any dogs, but when I do ...)

* Let him sit out with a recurring "injury" until March.

* Invent a new material for skates that would cure all of his damn foot problems.

* Paint his portrait in graffiti in Hamilton. Like Kopitar, but cooler.

* Um. Remind him that he could play with Alfie.

What would you do for Forsberg ???

Bryan's Song

2007-10-16T20:25:00.000-04:00

There are many things in hockey that will displace an unwilling player from a team. Most of these things are never mentioned publicly, such as extramarital affairs with a teammate's wife. Scoring a hurtful own goal isn't necessarily one of things things, but in Toronto, the only appropriate response for Bryan McCabe was to sob uncontrollably and beg for forgiveness. Instead, he said stoically that these things pass .. that fans will forget ...

No Bryan, they won't. YouTube remembers everything.

Everything about this situation seems to be PR. The chances of McCabe being traded, due to his hefty contract, are fairly slim. The correct move for Bryan right now to do is call an emotional press conference, express his undying love for the Toronto Maple Leafs and Mats Sundin, and hope that the fans take it easy on him with the rain of "Shoot!."

However, I would like to thank Bryan McCabe for a source of endless amusement and another reason to laugh at the Leafs. It's a bottomless pit of fun ...

*

The NHL uploaded 2006-7 player profiles that are kind of cute. You can see Wade Redden's hometown of Lloydminster, SK (it's full of tractors). Half of this is an ad for his wakeboarding company. Note: Don't watch this if you have a slow connection. Even with my relatively fast connection, Redden's buffering, slow, slurred speech was like listening to somebody on an acid trip. (Metaphor only.)

Watch it well. It may be his (second) last.

The one with Jason Spezza was done during Winterlude, with random scenes of strangers drinking hot chocolate, and old draft footage. You can really see the gel in Spezza's hair. There is also a disturbing scene of Spezza eating a beavertail ... "Ooh that is too good." No, Jason, no. You naughty boy.

I almost posted the Zdeno Chara one until I realized ... you know. He's gone.

*

On a weird parallel note, Tyler Donati, who I last saw play for the St. Michael's Majors, is now a Binghamton Senator.

Weekly Review, Scottie's Choice

2007-10-15T15:49:00.000-04:00

In Hamilton, every time I ask about a certain destination, the person describing it pauses. Eyebrows knit. A word is contemplated, and it's always this word:

"Sketchy."

Jackson Square is sketchy. The people at that bar are kind of sketchy. East Hamilton is a sketchy place.

Sketchy people, sketchy places, sketchy buildings ... Hamilton is like an unfinished drawing.

-

Ian Mendes gives 3 helpful ways to annoy Leaf fans, but there's one more you can use.

To the optimistic Leafs fan, the type who thinks every year is the year, say,

"Do you think it's your year? Huh? Your year to win? Win the Stanley Cup? Make it into the playoffs? Win 16 games? Huh? Win? Win a championship? Win your first in 41 years? Huh? Have your players play really well? Toskala succeeds, Sundin stays healthy? The defense come together? Everyone trusts Paul Maurice? Huh? The rookies succeed? Huh? The offense becomes lethal? Huh? Score a lot of goals? Pitch a lot of shutouts? Make Toronto proud? Save JFJ's job? Huh? Your year to do all that, huh? Set some goals? Achieve them? Your year to win? ...

[dramatic pause]

.. It's not."

The longer you continue the string of questioning, the more successful this becomes. I find that inevitably, they start laughing.

Weekly Review - Major Storylines

Gerber vs. Emery (vs. Elliot)Martin Gerber's solid performances has bumped his rating from "play well so we can trade you" to "hey wait maybe he's better than the other guy." With a fantastic 40 second stretch in Saturday night's game vs the Rangers and 5 wins, Gerber finally looks like the goalie we wanted to sign. Maybe the square dancing propelled his confidence, maybe it boosted his coordination. Either way.

Contrast this with Gerber's failures last season -- sure, we didn't want him to start anymore, but it was a painful realization, not a giddy complaint. All the criticisms of Gerber were marked by panic for the team. Gerber just seemed, well, pathetic.

But no longer!

Emery's wrist injury will keep him out for a little while longer, and he should view Gerber as a threat to his no. 1 position. Emery may have carried us far into the playoffs, but he was nothing exceptional. Having a tandem of strong goalies works, as the past few Stanley Cup winners have shown us, it just hurts a little when you're spending $8 million on them.

Trends
The Senators haven't blown anybody out yet, but it's been a steady pace. The essence of our chemistry remains and the early trends suggest that this is a mature team that knows itself well, knows the goals well, and damn well looks ready for anything. And now, we wait?

The only concern that carries over from last season is the lack of reliable secondary scoring. Although Mike Fisher was awarded with a very generous $4.2 mil/season contract, it's not going to make him score more. Making plays and scoring is something that God either lets you or declines you to do.

Short of praying that Peter Forsberg finds himself inexplicably attracted to Ottawa for some reason, there aren't many options out there for the Senators. This secondary scoring thing has been a perennial problem since Havlat's departure, and even for a while with Havlat. But this is the first season where we have realized the first-hand consequences of not having that fear-inducing second-line center ....

Scott Niedermayer

Then again, Scott Niedermayer has been "suspended", and it took him, Chris Pronger, and Pahlsson to neutralize our Big Line. At this point, it would be incredibly awkward for Scott Niedermayer to return. I mean, think of his team as his lover. The renewal of his contract is like an engagement proposal. If Niedermayer needs to think this long about being with the Anaheim Ducks, he's clearly ambivalent. The Anaheim Ducks deserve better than that. Take some time off, adopt a Malawian orphan, go back to school ... solve your mid-life crisis ... you've done all you can here, Scotty.

But in a way, this indecision makes me like Niedermayer even more. He has never been a stereotypical hockey player, with his scholarly glasses and quietly rebellious emoish haircut. I don't think he goes out to the bars every night and hits on the prettiest blondes. I've always felt that he had a deep appreciation of the game that few people realize. But there is nothing left for him to prove or challenge; without the context of winning or losing meaning something, it's just a job. And Niedermayer, who drives a Toyota Prius, doesn't seem to care about the money. I like his uncertainty because it means that he exists outside of hockey.

*

Also, hi PatrickEaves.

Old Skin for the Old Ceremony

2007-10-05T17:46:00.000-04:00

OTTAWA 4 at TORONTO 3 (OT)

(By now I'm sure you've already seen the game. I couldn't get to a computer for two days, and look, this is already out of date.)

Game 1
By extraordinary circumstances, I watched the season opener with a room full of girls. Leaf fan girls. I've never watched games with girls, and it's not like the atmosphere is any looser, but guys just don't make comments like, "I want to marry Sidney Crosby." (They just think it.) I stared at his bland smile, his non-offensive mannerisms, and tell her, "You would have to shove that boy full of drugs to make him interesting."

When the game starts, my mind is heavy with thoughts of Anaheim. I have no doubt that's what the boys are thinking about, or Redden, at the very least. The game seems harder than it really is, because all I can remember is failure. Anaheim has made a deeper impression on this team than any commentator will care to acknowledge.

The Leafs are much more potent than I remember. Forgive me on this, but it's been a while since the Leafs have played. I hear a lot about them. I hear the Fan 590 grumble at Paul Maurice's enigmatic starting goalie announcements, I hear the AM 640 seriously dissect and analyze the Leafs' precarious chances. But after a long postseason that seems to last a year, the actual Leafs team seems so foreign -- after all, during the most important 3 months of my life as a hockey fan, they were probably eating in Yorkville bistros and vacationing in the South Tropics or something.

Dany Heatley's 6 year, $45 mil contract extension is an auspicious way to start the season. Dany cares, so much more than I expected. He never chose to be here. It was by some unfortunate circumstances that he had to trade stifling Atlanta for a cold Ottawa. Much of attitude and happiness is determined by culture and environment, and I wouldn't have blamed Dany if he really wanted to leave after his contract was over. But he seems so settled now, one of the only players to play every game, an astonishing accomplishment for a player of his caliber. He laughs and sings with Spezza, he does nothing until he scores and he's going to be here for 6 more years.

There is an odd goaltending parallel with last season, namely Gerber's start. This season, we have already accepted that Gerber is not the answer and treat his fragile ego so carefully. Well. Surely he can't be TERRIBLE. We coddle him like a child, hoping that giving him this chance will nurture his abilities and confidence, until our real goalie returns.

GAME
The game starts off with a nasty five-hole goal on Andrew Raycroft by Antoine Vermette. The crowd turns on Fake Rayzor. Toronto is cruel.

We are always waiting on Antoine Vermette, it seems, to be a little faster than he is, to score one more goal on one more shot, to stay on his feet just a little longer ... he has the make and build of Chris Kelly's penalty killing skills, with grinding ability, but it's those elusive hands that shows glimmers of promise that never seem to translate to something on the ice. He still has to reach the benchmark of 50, 60 points to be considered an offensive player.

Let this be the season.

If Anaheim's taught us anything, it's that one crazy-good line is not enough.

We don't play well. Pierre McGuire enthusiastically praises Toronto's ability to make Ottawa dump the puck in, which apparently foils our entire game plan because we don't get the puck after dump-ins -- we just lose possession. The boys don't have any of the urgency to win battles --

I think we forget why this game matters.

I don't remember why it matters. Where's Stanley? Why are we here? I don't remember. After three months of meaningful games, this is nothing.

According to the Toronto Star's preview of the season, the one thing that Leafs fans have to look forward to is that their team is "desperate." And they show it, droves of white and blue fore-checking and dumping and chasing and struggling harder, hoping that this will be a pattern for the next 81 games. They are rewarded with a nice Stajan goal that sails neatly away from Gerber's outstretched glove.

Suddenly, the possibility of losing this game occurs to me.

When you're watching with a room of full of the opposition's fans, you need to set a good example, especially when your team is down. It's not the time to despair or blame the refereeing or accuse them of cheating. However, it is the time to make snide remarks about how the regular season doesn't matter, how this is the way we started last season, and look how well that turned out.

Ha!

Wade Redden looks so anxious. He is now married after a storied bachelorhood, but it seems to have sharpened his aggression. He is hit nastily a couple of times, and unlike Wade of the Ice Water Veins, Wade of the Face Punching reacts violently. He strips his gloves eagerly and fights one player. Nary a period later, he peels them away again and fights another. The commentators note that he is tired of getting pushed around, and remind us of Anaheim. Maybe it is displaced aggression. As much as Redden's play was terrible, as much space as he takes up on our salary cap, as stoic as he is, I never doubted that he cared deeply about the team. And he finally acts out, with fists, maybe imagining that he's punching everyone who says that he will leave next season, that we have no room for him anymore.

Redden is not indifferent.

During the intermission, Glenn Healy finally admits it: "I know the Leafs, I know that locker room, I know how much I hate the Ottawa Senators …"

The entire room collapses in laughter.

In the third period, the Senators finally wake up. I guess Redden shows them that they still have something to play for -- pride, knowing that we can still induce fear in Leafs Nation with each goal. The breakouts become much crisper and our fore-check finally comes alive, and even though it's not the cleanest tactical hockey, it seems to weaken the Leafs resolve. And that's what matters.

The Leaf fans are quieter, their resolve that this is the year subdued into fits of anxiety. Generally, only the hardcore remain. The casual bandwagoner fan left about the time Ottawa made the Stanley Cup Finals, I think, but who knows -- if finally a playoff spring hits Toronto, maybe they'll all come back. Still, in this opening game, the fans are quiet, knowingly quiet. Alfredsson still elicits boos, but the girls around me have forgotten why Our Captain is so hated. Rounds of cheering will erupt after each goal the Leafs score, but nothing spontaneous.

Heatley scores the tying goal, with about 6 minutes left. A Leafs fan spits anger at the TV: "I told you stupid players to get the puck out of the fucking zone. I'm so angry! You better not lose!"

And Heatley bares his killer instinct for us to see.

And Heatley scores the winning goal.

There's no joy in Hogtown tonight.

Notes from the Underground: The Translated blog of Alexander Nikulin, Part I

2007-10-02T22:39:00.000-04:00

PREFACE
An articulate NHL player is a rare and special species. Alas, in the Sens system, we are fortunate enough to have one, although not in English.

Alexander Nikulin, Sens prospect and Binghamton Senator, has been writing a blog for a Russian site. He gives valuable insights into the Senators training camp and personnel personality. Here is an archive of a translated version by ThirtyFive of HFBoards. You can also find a version of this at HFBoards. All links were added by me.

Nikulin did not make the Ottawa Senators, and will start the season in Binghamton. His posts will be divided into three posts an entry.

4 September - Why I'm going there, and some are coming back.

Since childhood I've dreamed of playing in the NHL. Why? It can be explained with a trite but true phrase: it's the best league in the world. For me it's a real challenge.

Yes, I know that many guys are returning now to the Russian league. Some due to age and injuries. I'm talking about Alexei Yashin. Oleg Saprykin just returned to CSKA, and from Ottawa, where I'm headed. What was his reason, I don't know. Perhaps he didn't get along with someone. But I looked over his stats, they're good. He was playing and scoring.

At any rate, I'm sure Oleg will be back. If not now, then in a year. He'll play here and get a decent invitation. I think he had problems with someone there. [ed.: Bryan Murray?]

I also don't know why Alexander Perezhogin returned. Looks like he spent too much time in the farm club. Perhaps they didn't trust him enough. But when I think about the fates of my countrymen in North America, I see Nashville's Alexander Radulov as an example. Because he left long ago and went through all the stages and is playing on the big team. And it wasn't smooth for him. But he went through it with clenched teeth and hard work. He set a goal for himself and reached it. Others did not endure as long, but I don't blame them, of course. [ed. That's two Alexanders, three if the writer is counted. So many Alexanders, so many puns.]

Who else came back? Alexei Kaigorodov. I heard he's got back problems. Maybe that was the reason, but as far as I know they were happy with him. Enver Lisin shouldn't have even returned. They were letting him play there, but somehow he ended up in the farm club. And he didn't like that. I believe Enver made a mistake. At any rate, he's gone back to the NHL now.

Certainly they pay a lot of money now in Russia. And to be honest I was offered a contract that was higher than that of the Senators. But for now money's the last thing on my mind. I'll get that later, probably, but my chance now is the trip to the NHL.

I haven't even mentioned contractual bonuses to the team. I've got a two-way contract. I fully allow that I may get sent down, and I'm ready for such a challenge. Only I have to know that I'm playing for the farm team with the prospect of making the big club. Otherwise I'll return to CSKA where they're waiting for me.

Many people are asking me whether I'm scared. I'd have to say no. The main thing is to get there. The flight is a really tough one, with two stopovers, in Frankfurt and Toronto. In Ottawa, though, I'm sure everything will be fine. They'll meet me, lodge me at a hotel. And it should get easier from there. By the way, Ilja Zubov and Anton Volchenkov are already in Ottawa. I hope they'll help me out, especially since my English is not so good. I know some things, tried working with a tutor, but to study a foreign language during the season is very difficult, as you can imagine. Hopefully I'll quickly catch on during training camp.

I only know the plans going forward in very broad terms. I think it's practicing until September 13, and then all the prospects are gathered. There will even be three games. Oleg Saprykin says they show the fastest hockey in the world during these games. Everyone's flying, showing themselves off. Twice as interesting.

September 5: Jumpsuit for Parshin.

I kept thinking here about what sets the National Hockey League apart from others. Probably it's that if you've made the team, it's because of you. Doesn't matter who your agent is or who your father is. They don't pull strings over there. You get your spot in the lineup yourself, without anyone's help.

I didn't take a lot of things with me to North America. Some clothes, my laptop, some equipment. Not everything, of course, but it's better to have your own skates and shin guards. Took a couple of sticks, but obviously also ordered some in Ottawa. But what if they won't be there right away? You still have to skate.

Don't know how I'll cope with acclimatization. First time in Canada, I can't imagine what awaits me. And there's a practice on the day I get there. Maybe they'll let me just skate around and not ride me too hard right away.

My CSKA teammates for the most part were really good about my leaving. They joked, of course. Denis Parshin and Sergei Shirokov, my linemates, ordered a bunch of things and said to come back quickly. Not that they wished I'd fail, but we've really gotten used to one another. Finish each others' sentences. Too bad our line's breaking up.

By the way, Denis ordered a jumpsuit. Gave me his size. If I come back, I'll definitely bring him a present. I want to stress that I'll return only to the CSKA. It was very important for me to leave the team on good terms with everybody. And we settled everything with the team president and the head coach. When will I be back? We'll see how it goes. Maybe in time for the New Year, but I'll reiterate that my goal is to secure a place in the Ottawa organization.

I feel confident, however the only thing I lack is the physical part. But everyone who went through the North American system says I'll pick up on that in no time. The physical conditioning will improve, the shot will become more powerful, endurance will rise. The rest is pretty much in order.

Also it's curious just to live in another country. Everyone says Western people have a different mentality. Not that many NHLers played for the CSKA. Peter Skudra, David Nemirovsky, but they're almost Russians. As far as actual Westerners, only this year Dragan Umichevich, a Swede, arrived. I didn't have a problem communicating with him. We attempted conversation. I was using my mixture of English and Russian. Yes, English is a weak point for now. But I'll try learning it. Perhaps in October my girlfriend will arrive, she's fluent in English. She'll help.

I'll be staying at a hotel for the time being. If everything goes well, then certainly it's possible to start thinking about real estate. But that's really far off.

September 11: It'd be nice to see Ottawa.

As expected, a team representative met me at the airport. Started saying something in English very rapidly. Obviously, I didn't understand anything and shied away a bit. My girlfriend helped: I phoned her and she translated. Turned out it was nothing serious. We had to wait for somebody else.

What that means is that I need to work on my English as soon as possible. The first day I had a physical. Ottawa's defenseman Anton Volchenkov helped there. Thanks to him for that. By the way, Anton is training on his own for now. The training camp for the big club hasn't started yet.

We're staying at this five-star hotel, a very nice one. I'm sharing a room with Ilja Zubov, who arrived in Canada earlier and has become accustomed to the local way of life. So he's helping me. Ilja describes his first impressions of being in Canada and they're similar to my own. He too was in shock from the practices and games, but then got used to that.

Certainly, to better learn the language, it'd be best to room with a Canadian, but, truthfully, I don't think I could do it. We wouldn't understand one another and just not talk, basically. That would be tough.

Haven't been out to the city yet. Absolutely no time because of the prospects tournament. And our rink is located in the suburbs, and the hotel is nearby. I hope there will be time to see the city, though. Right after the prospects tournament.

Visitors to the blog are asking if there is interest here in the Super Series between Russian and Canadian junior teams. To be honest, I haven't noticed any excitement. And no one's asked me anything.

We don't have practices as such. Prior to a game we skate a bit, and not even every time. Before the Pittsburgh game they let us sleep. And before that the practice was a simple one: we worked on shooting the puck and entering the zone. Nothing supernatural.

Haven't made friends with any of the locals as yet. Spend all the time with Kasper from Latvia (Kaspars Daugavins), my linemate, and Ilja Zubov. By the way, Kasper speaks Russian and English well. He helps whenever any problems arise. And another curious detail. We've played three games, but I haven't met any other Russian players. In Ottawa it's just us two, and that's it for now.

I saw that the visitors to the blog were asking about my chances with Ottawa. Said I couldn't count on the first two lines of the roster. Let's wait until the main training camp starts. Undoubtedly, it will be extremely hard but I'll try to make the team. Even on the third line. That's still not bad.

Want to say to Denis Parshin that I haven't gotten the jumpsuit for him yet. Let him cope on his own, there's no problem in Russia with it. I'll buy it only in case I'll have to go back. And I wouldn't want to go back - I'd really like to cement my place in the NHL.

September 5th - Jumpsuit for Parshin and

September 11th - It'd be nice to see Ottawa.

Christoph Schubert to Philly: ".... [laughter]..."

2007-10-02T22:17:00.000-04:00

And the legend of Christoph Schubert grows on TSN.

Question: "Aside from your team, who do you think will win the Stanley Cup?"

Christoph: "The Philadelphia Flyers."

[pause]

Christoph: "...[laughter]...."

Those poor Santa-hating cheesecake eaters aren't taking it too well. I predict a riot.

System of a Down

2007-09-26T12:50:00.000-04:00

Just as he got over the centre red line, heading towards the offensive blue line, he clearly identified McAmmond in the far corner, beginning to move behind the net, and Downie sprinted at top speed. It was clear from way before the moment of contact what he was doing and what was going to happen if McAmmond didn't alter his course. It was like watching a high-speed auto accident unfold right in front of you.

To Downie's credit, I suppose, he did stop churning his legs and began to glide, mitigating the issue of a charge to some degree. But there was never any doubt in my mind what was in Downie's mind, he was going avenge the hit he took and McAmmond was going to pay the price.

-- Bob McKenzie

On McAmmond

Current status: Dean has been released from the hospital with no serious injury. He is expected in Scotiabank Place today for treatment.

We should expect this to be a long-term injury. McAmmond has a colourful history of past concussions and with his age, his long-term brain health is the most important thing.

Dean is a huge loss for the Senators. He was such a reliable player, and even though this allows a rookie to make the team (Nikulin? Foligno?), they won't have his experience.

Also, we won the game 4-2.

Worst headline: McAmmond goes Downie.

On Downie

He's not a dirty player -- there is a difference between a calculated intent to injure, and an inability to calculate at all. Steve Downie isn't known for dirty hits, he's known for attacking players, beating up a rookie because the rookie refused to strip and cram into a bus bathroom and general psychotic behaviour. He's been suspended from the OHL more times than anyone cares to keep track of.

Sure, it's to his advantage to be tenacious and edgy but there's a fine line between physical and psycho. Won't someone, anyone, sit him down and tell him that he needs to stop following his emotions and use his goddamn brain?

Shouldn't it have occurred to him that this was a preseason game? Shouldn't Downie have realized that headhunting is a hyperbolic overreaction to whatever he thought wasn't being called? Shouldn't Downie have realized that he was essentially targeting whatever is left of Dean McAmmond's brain?

Shouldn't Downie have realized that he had just intentionally, violently hurt another human being and felt some sort of sympathy? Many reports are coming out that Downie was giggling as blood gurgled from Dean McAmmond's nose and mouth.

At least Colby Armstrong had the emotional intelligence to be concerned. Downie has never apologized for his actions in the OHL, even though he got his entire team's staff fired, even though he's been suspended so many times. He destroyed an entire team and never once said sorry. That's why I don't believe his "heartfelt remorse" statement after the game. He hasn't changed. He's just getting better at PR.

Downie has always been a battler on the ice, in part to answer the personal challenges he faced. His father, John Downie, was killed in an auto accident when he was driving seven-year-old Steve to an early morning practice in Everett, Ont. Ann Downie took over driving her sons, Steve and Greg, to hockey practices and maintaining the family farm in Queensville, a hamlet north of Toronto.

At age 13, Downie lost the hearing in his right ear. He wears a hearing aid off the ice. All through those life challenges, Downie displayed one stoic trait he never complained.

“After all that has happened and all he has had to overcome, you never see Steve feeling sorry for himself,” Twohey said. “He’s an upbeat kid, a positive kid who is liked by all his teammates.”

You know, Steve, saying sorry isn't the same thing as feeling sorry for yourself.

Unless someone in a mentor role takes control of Steve Downie right now, there will be bigger hits and bigger consequences to come. He has the history of violence and clearly lacks stability and emotional control. He's a psychopath!

I loathe the day I see his face on a newspaper again.

Lastly, perhaps it's beyond my concern as just a hockey fan, but I worry about Steve Downie off the ice. I don't believe that you can just "turn it off" away from the arena; that sort of rage is practiced and instilled. I wouldn't want to be around him when he gets angry.

Why I Love the Ottawa Senators

Throughout the entire scrum that followed Downie's hit, Patrick Eaves was trying to shove bodies off McAmmond's body, get the medical staff, and push the doctor onto the ice as fast as he could. Then he made sure we won the game for Dean with 2 assists.

Dean and Patrick are close off the ice, and the last time Patrick was knocked out, Dean literally fought for him, against Maxim Talbot.

It's us against the world.

Wings for Ottawa [2007 Season Review]: Part II, November

2007-09-21T21:48:00.000-04:00

November
The Turning Point

"It seems like we don't know what to do in certain situations -- myself included." -- Joe Corvo

By November, the optimism of a fresh season had faded into the dull knowledge that as it was, this team was startlingly incomplete. In the first half, the Senators had settled into a very predictable trend of losing: incomplete efforts in defense and offense; spurts of goals, and then one unfortunate goal let in by Gerber and that was the game. There was a feedback loop that resonated in the ~15 games in our losing stream:

The team needed confidence to win, and to win they needed confidence. We couldn't win when the opponent scored first. Through a month, we'd yet to mount a come-back.

Gerber was incapable of either task.

Our power-play could barely keep the puck in the opposition zone.

This all changed in the exact middle of November, on Wednesday 15 November, in a game that was televised on TSN and in case you thought it was a fluke, it happened again three days later on Saturday 18 November.

Up to this point, the Senators didn't trust each other. Players would over-commit and communication was sparse and unhelpful. Teammates weren't trusted, coaches weren't trusted and pretty soon, I think they had us all believing that they just weren't a good team. The media sure believed it: Daniel Alfredsson was rumoured to be in a trade to L.A., when it turned out that the so-called Kings scouts were simply accountants looking for a good time.

At the same time, the Buffalo Sabres, up to that point, had only lost once in their season thus far. The playoff euphoria propelled them to stomp all over the Eastern Conference in the first month and a half and most nights, they were simply untouchable. And the Senators? Washed-up, done, our window of opportunity slammed shut. Pierre McGuire called us heartless, greedy bums while he sighed every time Daniel Briere touched the puck. Glenn Healy's self-important smirk could be heard in his voice. Those bastards.

If the Senators didn't want to be humiliated by the Buffalo Sabres, they had to buy into the system that Bryan Murray was trying to implement. It was a more conservative system that relied on a low, cycling game -- erm, a simpler game that didn't depend on individual creativity.

The Senators did what any good team does, eventually -- copy New Jersey.

The desire to avoid humiliation by the NHL's best team and the collective memory of the embarrassment of previous year's playoff loss pushed the Senators to finally trust the coach's tactics. It marked the emergence of the Senators we would see in the playoffs: hard, down-low cycling, the forwards' commitment to defense and a simple power-play setup marked by lots of stick-to-stick passes and Redden point shots.

Certain milestones of your life will bring doubt. It's not unusual. Are you good enough for this? Can you get over a breakup? Can you be by yourself, in some strange, lonely place and remember who you are?

And that's exactly what this game meant for the Senators -- a confirmation of who they were, or who they weren't anymore. Nobody had to say anything. When another team's accountants attend a game and the media interprets it as a potential trade for your beloved captain ... nothing, absolutely nothing, is stable.

So on the 15th of November, the Senators beat the Sabres in a comeback.

They went up 1-0, we tied them, with a shot from Chris Neil, who started his improbable streak of scoring few goals with impeccable timing.

They went up 2-1, we tied them again, via a power-play that was, for a while, actually costing us goals.

The winning goal came, as it always does, with a little bit of luck: Schaefer's goal was reviewed, and the trajectory of the puck was determined to be ... legal.

After the game, faith cracked through the hard artifice of the Senators; Chris Phillips smiled for the first time in a month as he scored the empty netter. It was beautiful for everyone.

-

By that time, Emery's wrist had already been injured in practice. It was not unusual to see him hobbling around Scotiabank Place, his wrist taped up or even in a cast. What else could Emery do? What else could we do? Gerber was not an option.

-

In the end,

we became ourselves again, it seemed -- Spezza's giggling no longer seemed inappropriate, Corvo's brutal honestly was no longer so devastating. The foundation for the season had been set. The idea of overcoming despite great deficits, had taken root. And once ideas take root, they are difficult to supplant.

A Return

2007-08-22T21:14:00.000-04:00

This has been a weird summer.

I went through a stretch after visiting the Hockey Hall of Fame where I didn't think about the Sens or hockey at all, and then I went through a stretch where I wore my Alfie t-shirt everyday and even changed my iPod's language to Swedish in his honour. (Nu spelas ... repetera? alla!)

It's been a scattered, hazy summer. Fresh off the high of the Stanley Cup Final, sleeping in and waking up when the sun goes down is a bit of a letdown. After the draft, hockey talk inevitably slows down to discussion of the minute details of uniforms, fantasy signings and trades and reminiscing.

That said, here are a couple of things that occured to me:

Why is it that whenever the Sens go far in the playoffs, somebody dies?

In 2003, Roger Neilson passed away shortly after the Sens lost game 7.

In 2007, Elgin-Alexander Fraser, a 3-year-old with terminal cancer, passed away after Alfie's series-winning goal. I'm sure that you've heard the story by now: Elgin was a huge Senators fan, and as he lay in his weakest moments, the Senators fought the Sabres valiantly. He closed his eyes for the last time, his last memories being of Alfie's overtime goal and his parents singing O Canada. He was adopted as the playoff run's unofficial hero/inspiration ... I had more than one Leafs fan tap me and tell me that they were cheering for the Senators because of Elgin-Alexander Fraser.

Things I've found on the Internet:

A drunk Meszaros.

Italian Spezza!

In his secret life, Schubert is probably an European gigolo.

Yes, holding a baby does make you more attractive.

Jason Spezza used to act in Minute Maid commercials. Now, maybe I'm wrong here, but there are more people who buy juice than there are people who buy hockey equipment and generic, boring clothing. So eat your heart out, Sidney Crosby.

And, in case you missed all those Sens Insider emails about a "new era," the Senators announced their new logos and jerseys.

A closer look reveals an updated logo with more gold trimming. The original, white jersey's 1-D logo of the centurion's profile has been retired and now he stares straight at you, with those beady eyes and flourishing cape.

The horizontal detailing has been removed, and now we have very smooth lines that let the logo float in a sea of clour while the arms are sort of chunks of colour. The Peace Tower patch on the shoulders has been replaced with a retro O.

The jersey really looks more like Team Canada's jersey concept, except the lack of detailing on the bottom makes it look like a practice jersey. They do look sleeker ... but sleeker is usually better on fat players, and ever since we got rid of Tyler Arnason, horizontal stripes haven't been a problem. I miss those those stripes.

Alas, I don't think we'll ever have a barberpole jersey. It's too bad ... we could've blinded our opponents to victory!

Spirit of Hockey

2007-07-01T18:33:00.000-04:00

On a sunny day, I head down to the Hockey Hall of Fame. I have never been. I have never been to the CN Tower, I don't visit the ROM except when they let you in for free on Fridays. I am not a tourist in my own city. But a hockey fan -- never visiting the Hockey Hall of Fame, in my own backyard -- unforgivable!

I finally go, because I want to see Stanley. I want to see what we just lost.

I couldn't watch Pronger and Niedermayer raise the Cup; I didn't even want to see Giguere cradle his baby in the confetti. Pronger could found a thousand orphanages and I will still be bitter that he, the gap-toothed, floppy-haired bastard, won a Cup at our expense.

The act of watching it makes it real. If I don't watch it, my brain doesn't have the visual information to translate what I know otherwise; losing the Stanley Cup is an abstract concept, in the same wing as quantum physics.

I got away with it until I made myself see the Stanley Cup.

*

The Hockey Hall of Fame lives in the most beautiful interior in Toronto. A walk through BCE Place feels like being inside of a whale's skeleton, a huge yawning belly, with polished bone for ceiling beams. It is a belly or a simple arch, depending on how romantic you feel. Romance be damned, though, it is unshakingly reminiscent of a cathedral.

The Hall of Fame is home to a lot of things -- some throwback sweaters kept for their interesting graphics, some objects with milestone values, some things just very, very old. Really, though, all of these are touristic distractions meant to make sure your day doesn't end with the climax of the Stanley Cup. The layout of the Hall reflects this: Stanley's home is tucked away in a corner, between mazes of other exhibitions.

The beautiful thing about museums, galleries and Halls of Fame is that each exhibition is a story -- some stories, like the Stanley Cup, more famous and sentimental than others.

I've heard the story of Wayne Gretzky's obliteration of everything we thought possible;

I've heard the story of dynasties, legendary players who carried off Stanley in their arms

year

after

year;

I've heard the story of players who left the imprints of their hearts on the ice.

The story that the Hall of Fame is trying to tell now is of the "spirit of hockey": we almost have a Holy Trinity, I suppose, with the Stanley Cup and erm, Wayne Gretzky himself? This is dismissed as utter tripe, some sentimentality inherently built into the very idea of a Hall of Fame, a shrine eternal, but you do understand what they're talking about when you walk into where Stanley lives:

"It's like a church," an impressed fan mutters as he walks in. The stained glass ceiling, the awed silence, the way the walls showed their age and strength so gracefully; the rest of the Hall is a museum, everything enclased in glass for show, this, this is a church, the trophies on display like figures of the Saints. Virgin Mary sits between a glass wall embedded with the names of Hall of Famers.

If hockey has a tangible spirit, I don't think it would live in the hollow center of the Stanley Cup. I think it would live in the names, the hollows of the dug names.

The thought of touching the Stanley Cup is terrifying; I flinch every time a kid clutches it with greasy fingers or overexcited Quebecers knock on it. (Yes, the damn thing is hollow.) I can't touch it because it doesn't belong to us yet. It doesn't belong to me, to Alfie, to Spezza, to Heatley, to Phillips, to Volchenkov -- to touch it now would be like giving in, like premarital sex only you know the sex will be meaningless and terrible anyway. So I'll wait. I'll wait until it belongs. I know I may never touch it, trace my fingers into the carved names of those I've watched and shared so much time with and worried about, for so long.

I sit down and stare at the Cup, watching couples pose with it with awkward grins, grown men hugging it, little children raising their faces up to its bowl, fans finding their favourite players and teams on its side. I sit down and stare for much too long to be mistaken as a tourist.

On the experiential level I sat down and stared at a shiny piece of metal. On the abstract level I was praying. I was wishing very very hard that I'd get to feel like I owned it someday, like I could walk in there with my Alfie t-shirt and kiss it and hold it and fondle it.

Sitting there, it felt like the ghost of everyone who had been great and every team who had been there. They were remembered. Halls of Fame aren't so much Halls of Fame as they are Halls of Memory; the Stanley Cup isn't so much a trophy of celebration, but a trophy of memory

... And this is the tragedy, the real heartbreak of losing: there is no place for their names to rest. We don't remember the team that nearly was. For all that they did, for all that they tried, their efforts and time live on only in the aching hearts of their fans.

And without being remembered, what are we but ordinary human beings?

I didn't notice it when I went in, but as I exited, there was a large, life-sized poster of the Anaheim Ducks squeezed together, index fingers raised, with Stanley. I stared almost as hard as I stared at the real Stanley.

I finally know what it feels like to lose that hunk of metal.

Prospects

2007-06-27T14:03:00.000-04:00

In an embarrassing move for the organization, RDS reports that Ruslan Bashkirov, our 2007 2nd round draft pick, has plans to return to play in Russia. Russia, the black hole of hockey prospects, where young and old hockey players go to play for oil companies, don't pay their taxes rather than get used to North American hockey in the AHL. Without a transfer agreement between the RSL and NHL, Ruslan Bashkirov is essentially deciding against a future in the NHL.
I think we're finished selecting risky Russian prospects.

Our prospect depths, once so treasured and rich, has depleted to the point where we are ranked 26th by the venerable Hockey's Future. Josh Hennessey, Brian Lee, Nick Foligno are our top 3 prospects but none are ready to jump into the league yet, and Lee is a major project. We have no stellar, skilled talent left, with most of our prospects strengths being skating and physicality. I get the impression most of our prospects will end up no better than the checking line.

Jim O'Brien, our first round pick, is touted for his size, flexibility between defense and offense and toughness. Would it hurt him to show some enthusiasm for being part of the (2nd) Best Hockey Team in the league? His quotes after being drafted: "I'm just glad it's over." For a player who's supposedly tough on the ice, he seemed to be pouting a lot. Sure, you had your family there, and you were afraid you weren't going to get drafted … but at least smile for us?

(Handy tip: You can judge how serious a prospect is about their hockey career by how much they're on Facebook. For example, Nick Foligno had a well-maintained presence until a few weeks into May. Then he mysteriously disappeared. Marc Staal, who had quite an admirable photo gallery, disappeared even earlier than that. There are approximately 500+ Brian Lees on Facebook, so I haven't tried hunting him down yet, but the point is: the closer these players are to serious auditions for their NHL lives, the less time they have to indulge in poking and stalking. Conversely, the more obscure the prospect and the lower they were ranked, the more active they are on Facebook.)

The science and art of scouting is mysterious, but the Senators have been a strong drafting team in the past few decades or so, so a few dry years selecting in the bottom third isn't cause for, erm, major concern. It's just difficult to worry about what will happen in 5 years when our window of winning is now now now.

Wings for Ottawa [2007 Season Review]: Part I, Pre-Season & October

2007-06-25T21:22:00.000-04:00

9 months ago, this whole thing started. Now I venture to trace the Year of Our Almost Destiny from its conception after the departure of Chara and Havlat, all the way to Chris Pronger hugging the Stanley Cup.

PREVIEWS
The loss of Chara, I suppose, should've struck harder -- he was our rock, literally, a father-figure who was too collected to dish out vigilante justice but should you hit Alfie or Spezza the wrong way, should you look at him funny, he wouldn't hesitate in flashing a yellow smile and introducing the contours of his knuckles on your fist. But his size became his weakness against the Buffalo Sabres, and I venture to assert that with the signing of his $6 mil contract with the Boston Bruins, most Sens fans were replaying clips in their head of Chara awkwardly lugging his behind backwards, Chara turning slowly like a twisting vine, all the while the Sabres danced viciously around him. It's not an accurate portrayal, but Muckler, at the time, made the decision to mold the defense around the tenets of speed and puck mobility.

Whether we chose Redden or Chara, the sheer magnitude of their importance to the team would make the decision a turning point in the direction of our franchise. Muckler choose Redden's hands and break-out passes over Chara's physical, suffocating defense. He wanted to learn from the Buffalo Sabres, in a way like Native warriors ate the hearts of those they had defeated in order to eat their spirit and strengths, but much less morbid.

In contrast, Havlat's departure was all but settled upon the moment our season ended. He never felt permanent as an Ottawa Senator -- maybe it was the injuries, maybe it was his seeming ambivalence to winning. Some players are open to crying on the ice and you can read their disappointment in their eyes, but nobody could ever say that Havlat was emotionally affected by our playoff exits. At least, it never showed in his play. He was one of the most purely talented skill players to ever play for us though, and the fastest winger. (Whether that was him or Hossa is a debate for a bygone era.) Muckler, impatient and expecting to lose Havlat for nothing, struck pre-emptively and traded him in a three-way deal to the Chicago Blackhawks. He got the chance to be their star, we got some guy named Tom Preissing and some prospects.

And what of them now?

I think Chara was overwhelmed in Boston. Away from the supportive cast of players he had in Ottawa, Chara found he was unacquainted with the expectations of being captain. He was a big-name that was supposed to turn everything around in New England; he was captain; he was still in the process of adjusting to the "new NHL" and its capricious refereeing.

He still owns a restaurant in the Ottawa area and I like to imagine that he was happy for Alfie.

Havlat, on the other hand, missed much of the season with a shoulder injury. He was chronically rehabilitating, and then his season was declared over in April. His career-high in games played is still 73 games, a record he set in his rookie season six years ago. I don't think the rare Blackhawks fan will hesitate to admit that he is the only bright light in that organization, possibly the only reason to watch the Blackhawks play. They're treating him well, I guess, and they appreciate him much more than we ever had the time for. I wouldn't be surprised if he harbored some resentment for an organization that tried to make him feel unnecessary.

Entering the season with these changes, my initial impressions were that this would be an adjustment year. With a key piece of the defensive core gone, a key piece of our secondary scoring gone, a goalie in his first full-time role -- I was expecting to sneak into the playoffs in the 7/8th spot and then maybe steal a round or two before bowing out. I was so wrong.

OCTOBER
Panic

We can't we can't we can't honestly be this terrible. To be blown out by the Leafs, to just struggle night in and night out defensively, to not have any decent goaltending, to blow so many leads --

October was the worst month for the Senators. Thankfully, everything got better after that, but the panic was sufficient for fans to start booing Spezza and doubting the decision of Redden over Chara and looking enviously at Havlat in Chicago.

The Senators were either abysmal or glorious. Abysmal, for the Senators, however, is rarely a blowout: in typical Sens fashion, they keep it close enough for you to be sorely disappointed. After our traditional opening win against the Toronto Maple Leafs, the team lost the next 3 games by a blow-out, then one-goal affairs. After that, we blew out our next three opponents, only to head into the longest losing streak in memory, in which we surrendered leads to Atlanta, Washington …

Statistically, it wasn't terrible, but that's only because you're only looking at half of The Dark Age. From late October to mid November, the Senators lost 7 games out of 8. The most frustrating part of that losing streak was, no doubt, blowing the damn leads. It's the hockey equivalent of kissing the Frog Prince only to have your prince hideously revert to frog-form without warning. Every time it happens, your Prince loses confidence and of course, this causes him to turn into a frog again. And so the Senators cracked and cracked, each loss counting as not just one but for the next time we were in that situation, until we hit our Turning Point. But we'll save that for next time.

It was entirely unpredictable, but you could either believe that it was a good team going through a terrible stretch or a bad team struggling to stay afloat. (Erm, I believed in the latter.)

Gerber, who certainly had to prove that he would've earned a Stanley Cup ring if he hadn't had the "flu", got a great start in the first game, beating the Leafs deservedly. And then it seemed like he would let in every goal to give the other team the momentum. He lost the confidence of the team in the next few starts -- or rather, if he played and the team lost confidence in themselves, who's really at fault? The important thing to note is that Gerber lost his position on this team during the Dark Age. We did not sign him to develop him. We signed him to win. When he didn't, Emery, certainly humbled by his first playoff series, took over capably.

He signed with us to play and instead sat on the bench for most of the time. I didn't have any sympathy for Gerber at the time. I do have some sympathy for him now, but only as a human being, because it's hard to sympathize for a player who's eating up valuable salary cap space.

They just weren't a hockey team yet. Phillips hadn't yet found his defensive groove and Volchenkov, it seemed, had actually regressed in terms of defensive consciousness. Meszaros was perpetually confused, making poor decisions and his partner Redden struggled with the puck, with attacking players, with his own partner. Corvo, some guy from the west-coast that Muckler picked up for an eyebrow raising sum of money, had yet to debut.

And Spezza -- that eternal problem child, it seems. Your outlook on Spezza largely depends on how patient your disposition is and how much faith you have in a twenty-something guy that still giggles through his interviews. It's hard to be patient and full of forgiveness when the team isn't winning and Spezza plays with such an irresponsible looseness, toying with the puck endlessly at bluelines and making unforgivable decisions that sometimes result in goals against. I think some part of it has to do with his off-ice demeanor -- if he had Dion Phaneuf's face, i.e., his face from his eyes up doesn't move, people would be inclined to believe that he takes the game more seriously. But he doesn't. He always looks like he's just skating on his own damn backyard rink out there, giggling as he tries another failed deke, trying to clumsily skate around a defenseman. And that was frustrating for fans watching, who were already tearing hairs.

He was booed by fans in a game against Colorado. Spezza, though, wasn't rattled. He didn't exactly laugh his way out of it either. He's more emotionally mature than he seems. I imagined him biting his lips in contemplation, staring at the crowd, wondering exasperatedly why these people would pay good money to come boo him. In the end, he must've come to the conclusion that they just cared about their hockey team. No, he didn't take it personally at all.

At the end of October, the Senators had only 5 wins, and 3 of them came against the Leafs.

Executive Dramas

2007-06-18T19:27:00.000-04:00

Well ...

After making the Stanley Cup Finals, the Ottawa Senators are undergoing an intriguing and unexpected executive change. John Muckler has been "let go" as GM and will be replaced by Bryan Murray.

Several theories are abound. Too many of them involve Gary Roberts for my liking.

a) Melynk wanted him out ... because Muckler didn't get Gary Roberts. Apparently, Melynk was dissatisfied with Muckler failing to address an apparent weakness on the team. In the first three rounds, we were more than adequate, but you have to concede that Gary Roberts' extra physical nature and veteran experience would have helped the Senators in games 1 and 2 vs the Ducks. This rumour however portrays Melynk, our financial saviour, in an unfavourable light because it's not his job to make these executive decisions neither should he be making them. A meddling owner makes the role of an executive team extremely difficult because they have to constantly seek third-party approval.

b) Murray wanted in. Murray, who coached last season without a contract for the upcoming season, likely made a backroom deal with Mlakar and Melynk to become GM. Unfortunately, Muckler wasn't informed in the discussion. Murray, who was the GM and co-architect of the 2007 Stanley Cup winners, understandably wants to make the decisions around here. If the quotes from Murray around the Trade Deadline are worth anything, it's easy to conclude that Murray wanted ... Roberts. Murray felt he could no longer work with Muckler's philosophy and wanted more power. Or ... Murray had planned this all along.

It is a shame that it happened this way for John Muckler. While some of his decisions have been failures, he's guided this team calmly and competently through some key crossroads. He leaves Murray with a formidable legacy and history should judge Muckler favourably. Here are some components of Muckler's legacy:

Hossa for Heatley. Biggest trade in Senators history. After Hossa was signed, Muckler flipped him to the Atlanta Thrashers for Dany Heatley, who wanted out because of the unbearable lightness of being in Atlanta. A perfect storm of situations, and Heatley worked out to compliment our team better than Hossa ever did. It's very rare that a trade of this magnitude works out to benefit both teams.

Daniel Alfredsson's contract. Muckler's contract effectively made Daniel Alfredsson a Senator for life (until 2009) and imposed an informal team salary cap (which would eventually be broken by Wade Redden). After the lock-out, Alfie's contract of $5.5 mil became an absolute bargain.

Wade Redden over Zdeno Chara. Perhaps the biggest decision in Senators history? (We don't have much history, so everything's a superlative.) After being dumped by a smaller, faster and better transition team, I think Muckler felt that Chara's looming size and physical stature would become antiquated in the post-lockout NHL. Chara was let go, and Redden was signed to a 2-year, $6.5 mil.

Now? The rumours surrounding Wade Redden's future in Ottawa have put him anywhere from Edmonton to San Jose and back again. Murray didn't sound too firm on keeping Wade Redden on Team 1200 earlier today, but at the same time, Murray must realize that with the likely departure of Tom Preissing, someone has to make those breakout passes. As terrible as Wade Redden was when we needed him, he's an important cog on this team. Wade Redden is not easily replaceable.

What does Bryan Murray do now?

1. Hire a new head coach. Pat Burns is an obligatory name. John Paddock, according to TSN, is a frontrunner due to his familiarity with the team as assistant coach and head coach at Binghamton. Randy Cunneyworth, former Senators captain and current Sabres' farm team head coach, is also mentioned. Beyond that, I don't see anybody else being considered seriously.

2. Decide ...

Preissing? Tom Preissing, our Economics major and defenseman extraordinaire, seems to have already resigned himself to leaving. He is worth far more than the >$1 mil that he's getting now, and with the right team, will become a 20 minutes, Top 4 kind of guy. He totally excelled in the role that he was given in Ottawa, and even his weakness of avoiding physical play was totally avenged by his strength in getting the puck out. He also had a falling out with Bryan Murray, since Preissing didn't step on the ice for a minute of our season's last period. His smooth style of puck moving and reluctance to engage in physical contact seems to be in direct opposition with Bryan Murray's preference for hard-hitting, physically bruising defensemen. Alas, TP was reliable and hilarious and will be much more appreciated financially by his next team.

Comrie? It was revealed that Comrie was playing with an injury through the later rounds of the playoffs, but whether his playing time was limited by injury or Murray's dislike of him remains to be seen. I'd love to see Comrie back and his tenacity, pugnacity, seem to be what Murray likes.

McAmmond? It's been announced that before Muckler was unceremoniously dumped, he had negotiated a 2-year, $1.75 mil deal. I'd love to see McAmmond return because his speed is valuable and he has enough offensive instincts to fit in anywhere. Murray better not go on a power-trip and undo this deal.

Saprykin? I think Oleg is safe under the reign of Murray because his playing style seems to be compatible with what Murray wants. Oleg was a hardworking player during our playoff run and fits in well.

Redden? Is he worth the salary cap space? Is he replaceable? The case for Redden goes something like this: he's an important cog, our team loses without him -- numbers don't lie!, he's an important leader, he will get better. The case against Redden goes like this: perennial disappointment in important moments (game 7, 2003 ... game 2, 2007), he sucked this year and we survived, he's a liability and we can do better than him.

BLOG NOTES
Yours truly is stuck here all summer, so expect posts all through the summer. If I get bored, I'm going to start making up crude stories about Sidney Crosby's love life. So. That's what you have to look forward to.

After the Flood

2007-06-10T18:47:00.000-04:00

[Personal note: Well, the unforeseen happened, and it looks like I will be stranded in this side of the 401 for another little while. In a weird coincidence, I will be joining Sherry in Hamilton. I'm not stalking her, I swear.]

Last Thursday, the day after we lost the Stanley Cup (I despise saying that, yet I like being able to say it), I wore my Sens t-shirt for all of Toronto see. The most common response was: "Wait, you know they lost, right?"

Well, thank you Toronto. I had been in a cave. On Mars. With my ears and eyes sewed shut. And my hands tied behind my back. In a coma.

And I was wearing my jersey because all of my other clothes had been ripped to shreds by a pack of wild wolves on my way back to Earth. Clothes that were then eaten. And digested. And crapped out. Alas, I was left with this.

This is what I hate about losing so late in the playoffs: it's summer. Nobody else will sympathize with even a little bit of your pain, because after six months of darkness, behold, we have light. Summer. Who wants to sit in a dark room and cry with me when it's BBQ season?

I feel utterly exhausted. After an emotionally draining marathon that collapsed at the last moments, talk radio now drones on about the draft, off-season needs, next season's plans -- all to do what? To do this all over again? I haven't even gotten over what just happened. In my head, this season isn't even finished yet. I haven't poured over each month's events, I haven't finished watching all my playoff tapes ... in my head, we just beat the Pittsburgh Penguins 6-3 in the opening game.

On the future plans of this blog, I'm going to recap this season in its entirety and then hibernate for July/August. At the request of a reader, I'm adding my email to the sidebars where you can reach me with your complaints, praise, and marriage proposals. (I'm kidding about the last one.)

California Dreaming: Part V, the End

2007-06-06T22:42:00.000-04:00

GAME 5: OTTAWA 2 at ANAHEIM 6

Anaheim wins series 4-1

Anaheim wins the Stanley Cup

I head into this game knowing this is a mere formality.

We can pray for a different team to come out, that the real Senators will shine, but they have -- the desperation of Philchenkov, Fisher, it's all been out there, all this time, I just don't think we have the technical competence to overcome. At some point, it's not about how much you want it. It's about the other team just being better.

(I'm sorry. If this weren't the final game of the season and if I weren't in such a daze and my brain and emotional thresholds weren't fried -- then maybe I could find it in my heart to give a recap but I doubt any of you are reading to find out how they scored only that they did score and they scored 6 and we scored 2 and they got Stanley and we didn't.)

We are down 2-0 in the first period, I started crying into my Sens Army scarf and this is it. There is no come-back, no miracle, and no little brief flashes of hope -- even when Alfie rifles the puck past Giguere to make it a "real" game. Every inch we grab, they grab a foot back. So, this can only mean that Phillips makes a rare unforced error and bounces the puck in off Emery's skates to score on his own net. Steve Smith, anyone? Then this can only mean that Alfie will give us another bit of hope by scoring shorthanded, in a play born out of will, but the penalty killers only to surrender a flukey goal that Ray seems ill-positioned for. They never surrender their 2-goal lead for more than a few minutes and they take it into the third period, and the players know it, no matter what brave words are being said, it is over. We don't have many chances generated now anyhow and it would take someone of immense, immense naivete and courage to believe that we can come out in the third period with God on our side and score 3 goals and not get scored on.

I am not that person. I wish I could be that person. But that person would probably punch something once they found out they were wrong, or start questioning God.

Like why, God, you would have us in the Stanley Cup Finals, only to lose. Why you would allow us to win our series' in 5 games only to lose the only one that counts in 5. You have a great sense of humour, God, but sometimes you are just cruel. Cruel! Maybe you have something you would like us to learn from this, but I am too distraught right now to think.

(Just why, God, if you are merciful and just, would you allow Corey Perry to win the Stanley Cup?)

"They're climbing uphill here," Bob Cole tells me.

This isn't a hill. This is asking the Senators to climb Mt. Everest, then Mt. Olympus. The gods have already forsaken us.

On the bright side, this has become another arena where you will know for sure when Alfie has the puck. I don't think any Sens fan at this point gives a crap at what other people say about Alfie -- weasel or spineless or classless -- he is our beating heart. We are willing to forgive his rare trespasses because of this.

Muckler stares furiously at the crowd, gnashing at his nails, trying to figure out where he went wrong. When Perry takes an Alfie-giveaway to make it a real blow-out, Emery's brows are straight. He doesn't look flustered. I wonder how Gerber would look in there right now, but this is thought for the off-season.

So Anaheim has the Stanley Cup. And any major city with a major sports championship will feel the giddy thrill of this, the utter ecstasy of this, but will they remember this in a month? Will they remember this in another season? Will they remember this when they are older and telling their children stories of heroes and hockey players?

This is the end, as it's always been, except this time … this time, it's Stanley.

Every hug evokes an onslaught of tears. Orange is deathly and dull. The Senators somberly hug each other, Emery is re-assured. Alfie taps everyone, muttering something in the ears of everyone. Chris Neil grimaces, looking like he has been shot and twists his face against his stick. Handshakes are exchanged, and the boys can't cry -- they probably want to -- but this is all just a daze, a dream corrupted, gone terribly wrong. Do they want to watch this? Do I want to watch this?

They say I should be happy for Teemu Selanne. I am not capable of such complicated emotions. I feel only sorry, for Mike Fisher, for Phillips and Volchenkov, for Daniel Alfredsson and myself.

Thank you all, for reading. Thank you for being here during the lows of the season where the future of this team was in serious question and thank you for being here as we sailed through the highs and then crashed and burned, just now. Thanks for reading.

Thank you, Ottawa Senators. I won't turn this into an Alanis Morissette song, but ... thank you for doing more than I thought we could do, more than I realistically expected. Thank you for making me happy and putting a smile on my face when I was stressed with real life. You stole about two months of good sleep from me, but it was all worth it, driving to Ottawa, feeling spiritually connected, being proud to be one of the only two left and just that feeling, that feeling like, for an instant, you exist as something bigger than yourself, and now, now I think I understand why, why people become sports fans and why people stay this way.

California Dreaming: Part IV

2007-06-05T10:17:00.001-04:00

GAME 4: ANAHEIM 3 at OTTAWA 2
Ducks lead series 3-1

I am too sad to be articulate right now.

California Dreaming: Part III

2007-06-03T16:13:00.000-04:00

GAME 3: ANAHEIM 3 at OTTAWA 5

Ducks lead series 2-1

PREGAME
A guy keeps giving me a V sign, then an O. What the hell does he mean? Oooh. Not V. 2. 2-0. The Ducks are up 2-0. I am terribly anxious and worried, even though most, if not all Leaf fans teasing me obnoxiously would give their left testicle/ovary to be down 2-0 in the Stanley Cup Finals. The team we saw in California was virtually unrecognizable; who the hell were they? I never, ever want to see them again.

Despite all the anxiety, Ottawa is in a frenzy. A giant, rippling Canadian flag is passed among the fans as the anthem plays; jumping fans crowd the cameras at City Hall for face-time. Pom-poms litter the crowd and nobody feels too ridiculous to use them.

GAME
The Senators, it seems, have finally arrived. We fore-check more in the first 5 minutes of this game than the entirety of game 2; we jump on the puck first, and there is more pressure from the back-end, chipping the puck into the zone and holding them up at their blueline. Yet Anaheim holds their ground, and it's uncertain whether these outbursts will last or if they are the last spasms of desperation.

SBP, or affectionately called the Sc'ank, is silenced by an Anaheim power-play goal. The penalty kill had suffocated the Ducks until that point, toying with the puck in the neutral zone before clearing it. All the work, gone to waste, because of one rough play where a forward fails to cover. There is facing adversity, I tell myself, and there is sadism. All adversity in sports is self-afflicted, with the exception of injuries. 1-0, Anaheim.

At this point, I feel the worst that I've felt this entire playoff run. We need to win this game. I sulk, I nearly cry, Anaheim is the expert at getting outplayed and seizing on opportunities to win by only 1. And whether we come back or not, that could be the difference. On top of the pressure to win, we have to overcome a one-goal deficit ...

As badly as I feel, the boys keep grinding away. There are bursts of dominant fore-checking that make me feel a lot better; we aren't getting crushed on ES. Finally, we are frustrating them. The grinders: Vermette, Kelly, Neil, McAmmond, Schaefer, seem to have recovered their abilities to fight in the corners and along the boards; the puck support is finally working. Neil, coming off the birth of his daughter Hayley, scores the tying goal. It is a classic chip and chase goal; they battle for positioning in front of the net and win. 1-1.

In the second period, the Ducks re-take the lead on a terrible goal by Corey Perry, reminiscent of Martin Brodeur in this year's playoffs, that slips in between Emery's feet. 2-1. Ugh. Do you always get what you deserve? Do we deserve this? The Anaheim Ducks surely aren't an easy team to come-back with; most of their wins have been by one-goal. We are tempting fate here, asking too much maybe, to come back yet again.

Apparently, though, fate is on our side. Less than a minute later, Volchenkov's shot from the right point is tipped by Mike Fisher and past a stunned Giguere, a stunned crowd. 2-2! This time, I don't even have time to feel bad.

Ryan Getzlaf, though, with his pointy eyebrows, sharp nose and fantastic release, gets the goal
back 2 minutes later. Emery saves a Perry shot, only to slide the rebound directly onto Getzlaf's stick, who efficiently finds the back of the net. Ugh. 3-2. Tempting fate.

It's hard to feel terrible though, when the boys continue to fore-check hard and Fisher, with his amazing tenacity and physical play, mauls through the Ducks defense.

Sooner or later though, the power-play had to come up with something. It comes up with something weird -- a Wade Redden shot, ricochets off Alfredsson's skate and into the net. The referees inititally rule it a no-goal, but further camera review determines that Alfredsson did not make a "distinct kicking motion," rather only redirecting the puck into the net with his natural skating motion, in progress before the puck arrived. We are tied again.

Dean McAmmond, a shifty and grinder, has pinned Anaheim's defense down fairly well, along with Schubie and the firecracker himself, Oleg Saprykin. He is finally rewarded with a goal when his shot bounces off Chris Pronger's skate past an ill-angled J-S Giguere. We finally, finally have a damn lead.

About 3 minutes into the third period, the scuffles ensue, and I hope that Neil, Fisher, Schaefer can contain themselves: well, Schaefer is being pinned against the ice, so there's not much of a problem there, but Fisher sits on Perry and just like Chara showing restraint against Lecavalier, could theoretically bash his skull against the ice. Fishie satisfies himself with merely restraining him.

Spezza's scuffle with Pahlsson ends up in a ripped jersey. He hurries into the dressing room, only to come out wearing Eaves' jersey. He takes a shift and then gets his own back. An entire nation is disappointed that Eaves didn't score.

The entanglement of Pronger and McAmmond didn't end with the fourth Ottawa goal. As McAmmond rushes up the ice to take a shot, Pronger is waiting. After the shot is released, Pronger follows up with McAmmond with an elbow to McAmmond's chin. Dean's head hits the ice and he crumples into the corner. The referees aren't even looking, as they follow the puck in Giguere's pads, until they realize that McAmmond is barely breathing. The camera pans in on McAmmond's eyes and mouth as he struggles to reply to the doctor and trainer; Saprykin and Schubert eventually assist him off the ice to the roaring crowd.

There is no penalty on the play, despite it being late, illegal and vicious.

There is real hatred brewing now.

Still, the best revenge is a victory: the boys continue to work, for Deano. Vermette makes a perfect pass to Volchenkov in front of the net, 5-3, we are not giving up this lead tonight.

THE GOOD
Antoine Vermette. He did something every shift; make a perfect pass to Volchenkov, dig the puck out from the corners, gain possession along the boards, kill a penalty, clear our zone, gaining the Anaheim zone with speed ... marvelous.

Chris Neil. We needed Neil because we don't have another Fisher. We needed Neil to counter some of the Anaheim physicality and that's exactly what he added: grit and even a key goal, as I'm still amazed at his work along the boards.

Mike Fisher. He held his restraint in check but still allowed himself the emotion to hit 6'6" Chris Pronger along the boards and the forward corps of the Anaheim Ducks. He's been consistent in his physical play and really seems to relish playing against a team that will hit back.

Dean McAmmond. He's remarkably fast for a player in his mid thirties, but we needed his speed to break Anaheim's trap and gawd, it worked.

THE BAD
Heatley. What the hell are you doing? Heatley looks completely unfocused out there, unaware of the game-plan. The only time I noticed him was when he failed to get a shot off, or tried some weird spinny move that looked like he was trying to pass, but only resulted in give-aways.

Dean McAmmond being injured, out possibly for the rest of the series. TSN reported that he had to leave the bike after 2.5 minutes. We don't take risks with his brain and Deano has a history of concussions.

POSTGAME
Reviews on my playoff performance:

"Stop screaming, they'll think we're raping you in here."

Chris Pronger has been suspended for a game, which is far too lenient for a repeat offender. The timing of it works out to Anaheim's advantage, as he won't have to hear Ottawa fans tell him what we really think of him ... today, anyway.

NEXT GAME
There's nothing wrong with our game-plan, but Anaheim will adjust. Without their 1b defenseman, they will probably rally and play an even tighter defense. I can't see Giguere giving up 5 goals again, and even though Ottawa has regained some confidence, this is still a must-win. Going back to Anaheim in a 3-1 deficit is practically suicide. The desperation must continue.

California Dreaming: Part II

2007-05-30T23:08:00.000-04:00

GAME 2: OTTAWA 0 at ANAHEIM 1
Ducks lead 2-0

Writing a blog about a team that's in the Stanley Cup Finals and plays as shittily as we did tonight, this is all I wanted to write, a la Kurt Vonnegut is:

What the fuck was that?

And leave it at that.

Of course, what the fuck was that?

Who the hell is this team?

I thought I said goodbye to this team forever in January, but here they make their return. This was a game straight out of hell. This was the worst scenario.

The periods are identical. The Senators have absolutely no forecheck; every dump-in is methodically moved out by the Ducks, who immediately gain possession and don't give it up for stretches of 4, 5 minutes. The Senators are on a 60 minute penalty kill.

The Ducks are not afraid to maneuver their way into the middle of the ice and get scoring chance after scoring chance; it is by the grace of the Hockey Gawds that none of them bounce in, in the first two periods, anyhow. Emery makes enough saves for a year's worth of highlight reel film: he snatches a bouncing puck in mid-air, he stretches across the crease, he finds the puck in numerous scrambles. He is giving us a chance when we should be dead and buried.

And Pahlsson, the Selke nominee and the player hyped to shut-down Spezza, scores the winner on a perfectly aimed shot that floats through the defenseman's legs and over Emery's right shoulder. This happens with about 5 minutes to go in the third period, the only time Anaheim seems to be able to score the game-winner. They are sadistic, leading us on, giving us a slim chance, then letting it go. They let us scramble around and be within 2 inches on Peter Schaefer's shot of tying it. But there is nothing.

What can I say.

It would be quick and convenient to blame the effort of this team, but I swear to gawd, I think they are trying. Fisher punches Perry in the first period out of frustration and clearly Fisher's not just punching Perry because Perry is a Derek Roy wannabe; the stifling defensive play of the Ducks, the lack of opportunities for the Senators -- they all came out with Fisher's two jabs.

It's just pure execution, at this point. Whatever video tape Bryan Murray reviewed, he needs to sit down with the entire staff and go over every single dump-in, because I don't recall seeing a single freaking dump-in that worked. The Ducks have amazing puck support; they were always the first ones on the puck, especially in their zone, and the Senators never had a chance to establish a hard forecheck.

If you can't enter the zone successfully, you can't have puck possession. If you don't have the puck, you don't have a scoring chance. If you don't have scoring chances ... you lose like this, the score undeservingly flattering to the actual play of the Senators.

The game-plan failed; when players no longer trust the game-plan, they go at it alone. They don't trust each other anymore. Alfie's drop-passes ended up being giveaways; I don't even know what Spezza was thinking when he attempted some of the dekes and passes that inevitably flittered onto the Ducks' sticks.

THE GOOD
Ray Emery. Confident, assertive, miraculous, lucky, near saviour.

THE BAD
Everybody else, from the coaching staff to defense to offense.

The old chemistry and habits of the Big Line and offensive players have been broken down and destroyed by the Ducks. I don't know if the Big Line can re-establish themselves, even on home ice, with last change. You have to believe, though. As much as Murray may experiment during the game, it is to the Big Line that we will turn, eventually.

POST-GAME
I am intensely jealous of Scott Niedermayer. The man has won the Triple Crown of hockey and he's environmentally conscious, driving a Toyota Prius.

The Anaheim Ducks are the better team.

That is a certainly different matter than the way in which Ottawa is lying down and allowing them to be the better team.

We must live and view this run with the narrative that it will all work out in the end; imagine ourselves as the heroes of our story, faltering, against a challenge, but eventually emerging -- victorious? Catharthic? Enlightened about something fatal in us that we hadn't realized?

Is this a tragedy? A comedy? A conquest? Decide. Now.

California Dreaming: Part I, Un Jour Comme Un Autre

2007-05-29T18:02:00.000-04:00

TO WADE

Wade, Wade, Wade Redden, I worry about you.

Those rumours of cocaine use, from sources credible and shady, have circled you for years and years.

[DISCLAIMER (12 June 2007): I've realized that I was pretty irresponsible in mentioning the rumours of Wade Redden's cocaine use, without a heady warning: look, you hear a lot of things on the Internet. I have no direct sources and everything I've heard is secondhand. If you are to consider the validity of this rumour, you must also consider that Wade Redden is a world-class athlete who travels nearly every other day, going through customs and immigration and security. Consider that cocaine is a heavy depressant that slows down the physical reflexes and however irresponsible you think Redden is, how physiologically possible is it for him to perform at all? Consider that it's not special or rare for a young teenager to "experiment," that people do change. Please don't accept rumors at face value. I only mentioned the rumors of cocaine because I thought it was an unspoken, widespread rumour, but I now regret it because the post only served to spread it. (Although the only person who seemed unaware was a Leaf fan ...) Nothing is proven, he's never been charged. I just won't remove anything because it would be dishonest and misleading, plus it's already been quoted and linked elsewhere.]

And here we are now, in the Stanley Cup Finals, and you have the audacity to yell at Meszaros after the game winner, throwing your hands up in frustration. This hasn't been your finest year, Wade. Everyone has doubts about whether you deserve the $6.5 mil. Your on-ice play has been ...

You know you're the best when you're invisible, right? When you're not rubbed out so easily by hard hits? We need you to do much better than to yell at your young defensive partner and slowly lumber to positions after being hit. We need your passes, your resiliency, your speed, your desire.

I just don't know where your head's at, what you spend your time doing. It's not just your playoff beard making you look rough and tortured; it's your cheekbones. As gorgeous as they are, they are far too visible. How much weight have you lost? How much muscle, how much fat? If you'd gained muscle mass, maybe you should be throwing it around. But then again, Wade, you don't look leaner -- you look skeletal.

Regardless of what's been going on in your life, we need you. We need you to be better, at your best, because if you don't, one day, you will look back on this time of your life and regret it. You've never reacted well to a physical forecheck, Wade, but the least you can do is brush your self off, keep going and get positioning, regardless of what they throw at you. We need you. You're a leader, you're our technical backbone, we need you be strong, as hard as it may be. We need you.

And not everyone will agree, but I think you need us, too.

*

I couldn't sleep last night. I don't think I've gotten a single good night's sleep since the New Jersey round; my dreams of floating whales and deserts are constantly interrupted by floating fragments of thoughts, we lost last night. Dreams of hockey and games results aren't so uncommon among fans, but the tension and anxiety associated with losing game 1 and all the doubts and insecurities that get tugged to the surface again really ruin your beauty sleep.

With that said, those doubts and insecurities are just intellectual exercises. Look, this reminds me of the time -- and what about that time -- oh, this seems eerily familiar. But my gawd, boys and girls, we've been through 3 rounds now. We've taken too much crap and played too well to fall apart here, in a game one -- sure, all games are important, but after a 9 day layoff, after being completely dazed and losing by a goal, this really isn't a devastating loss. We've rebounded from worse.

So when/if the Senators have already woken up, just take a deep breath, forget about this game, and hit the ice hard tomorrow. One game does not unravel confidence.

*

I'm going to be this way -- moody, desperate -- until 5 minutes after they drop the puck tomorrow.

California Dreaming: Part I

2007-05-28T23:35:00.000-04:00

GAME 1: OTTAWA 2 at ANAHEIM 3
Ducks lead series 1-0

GAME
The air tonight, the air in Anaheim, wafts of anticipation, of the first taste. Who hasn't been Californicated at least once? Arnold Schwarzennegger comes out to greet the Canadian crowd, schmoozing with an accent that reminds me of Dominik Hasek. Stephen Stills from Crosby, Stills and Nash warbles out the Canadian anthem, and I fear for his stability. His head bobbles uncontrollably.

So we are here. So we are finally here and I cannot believe that when it comes right down to it, there is nothing different about this game than any other game we have played so far. We have an opposition, a sheet of ice, nets, sticks, a puck: play on boys. Something surgically dissected for the past 9 days lies out so simply -- the goal has never changed.

The Senators score on the first shot on net, and it is the first of many lucky bounces for Ottawa to come. Mike Fisher's shot skims past a terribly angled Jean-Sebastien Giguere and look, this is what it feels like to lead 1-0 in the Stanley Cup playoffs.

Waited too long. Sat down too long. The Anaheim Ducks are the best team we have faced yet and they make it obvious; forechecking with a tenacity that we reserved for the Buffalo Sabres and we can't clear the damn puck for a stretch of 5 minutes. They are the first ones on the puck, the first ones to initiate physical contact. We are thoroughly outplayed, so when the Ducks get the tying goal on a 2-on-1, I can't say I am disappointed.

We are so damn lucky to be tied heading into the second period. It's not so much the physical havoc the rest had wreaked; the mental space of the Senators has shifted slightly, the focus not as clear as it used to be. Perhaps we have enjoyed this too much. Perhaps the players have thought too much about this, explored too many possibilities, staying up late at night, like I did, and wondering what it would feel like to win the Stanley Cup, to lose the Stanley Cup, to spend a day with it, to wonder forever about the possibilities.

Too much. The Senators retake control in the second period, playing like the team I remember seeing in the last three rounds. Aggression, neutral zone control, tighter gap control, cleaner passes. Still, it isn't the total even-strength dominance against the Buffalo Sabres; there are stretches, several rushes where Fisher's line manages to get some decent scoring opportunities, but they are rare and far in between. Our best period of the game involves most of the play in the neutral zone. Wade Redden's shot from the blueline on the power-play beats J-S Giguere cleanly and we are leading again, but with 2 special teams goals and getting hammered on even-strength, it is precarious.

The Ducks show in the third period that they deserve the win. The puck is constantly in the Ottawa zone; Emery makes save after save; even when a weak Getzlaf goal beats Emery, between the legs, to tie it, it hurts, but ... we know they deserve it. Even when Moen's goal, with about 4 minutes to go, wins it ... ugh. Meszaros misses a check, the Niedermayers walk out and score. What can I say. The Senators just weren't there.

POST-GAME
Yes, Anaheim's breasts are real.

THE GOOD
The media. Talk of the wheels falling off. Yes, that's right. I think it's a good thing that the media, certainly the Toronto media, will pounce on the Senators' mistakes and lack of energy. Please, someone bring up this organization's "culture of losing." Please remind of us how we've blown this in the past. Please remind us of how we have to fight for everything we deserve, how mentally fragile we are. Please. Somebody scold us. I get more nervous when they praise us.

Only losing 3-2. This had blow-out all over it by the third period.

Emery giving us a chance. One of Emery's strengths is that he always gives the team a chance to win; he will allow the tying goal, but you need to have a hell of a shot and opportunity to beat him for the winner. And Moen did just that.

Fishie. Crash, bang, dig, chase, dump, Fisher is a machine. He was the most active player; no rust on his end.

???
Being outshot 32-20. Oy. The score was flattering.

THE BAD
Alfredsson, Big Line. How goes Alfredsson, so goes the Senators.

This was possibly the worst game we've played in the last two months. This was definitely Alfredsson's worst game of the playoffs. He was squashed repeatedly by the Anaheim Ducks and never got up in time to make a decent play.

The Pahlsson line totally dominated the Big Line and well ... that's that. Spezza looked to have regressed in his defensive awareness, and kept making one pass too many. Alfredsson looked shaken by several huge hits and never recovered. And Heatley ... well ... I wasn't that impressed with him in the Buffalo series, and he hasn't done anything to change my opinion.

Redden. Seletal looking Redden; he looks hungover, he looks like he hasn't slept in days. Maybe it's the facial hair, maybe it's just his face, but he looked slow and lumbersome tonight. No communication with Meszaros, no confidence, no legs ... turnover after turnover. Wake up, Wade.

Terrible legs. The puck movement was absolutely brutal. No more than 2 or 3 passes connected in a row the entire game. I don't think the Ducks iced the puck the entire night; I've never felt relived for an even-strength icing before tonight.

NEXT GAME
Thank gawd game 2 is only a day away, instead of the two-game layover.

The positive spin to this is, if there were a good way to lose, this would be it: Get thoroughly outplayed and still be in much of the game. The boys just need to remind themselves that for all the talk, for all the accoloades and the emotional rationalizing, all this is a game on ice. The moment and the game exist as capsules in and of themselves; this isn't the end of the world. The world's end comes when the team stops wanting it more than Anaheim.

Clear all the unnecessary distractions. Don't even think about Stanley. Think about the next period, the next rush, the next play.

California Dreaming: Insomnia

2007-05-27T22:52:00.000-04:00

Sens-spotting in Toronto:

2 car flags

1 license plate

1 jersey

1 hat

1 pair of Sens flip-flops.

Millennium Sports in Vaughan Mills has a Senator and Duck jersey in their window display ... only the Sens jersey is turned upside down, like a ship in distress. Ooooh, I'm so insulted.

Toronto these days is neurotic. The city isn't sure whether to watch or to ignore; to cry out of bitterness or to cry out of agony; the one thing they can agree on is that somewhere along the line, the Leafs seem to have missed a lesson or something that the Senators now have learned. Their usual bitterness has a tinge of sadness to it.

-

I can't sleep. We are now ~18 hours away from the puck drop and I can't sleep. Not knowing a damn thing about the Anaheim Ducks before trying to force myself to learn all their scouting reports is frustrating, like knowing the outlines of a person's shadow but not knowing if those breasts are really real. Hmm.

A couple of aspects heading into the game:

Reliance on the Big Line. I don't think it's that big of a deal. Fans of teams that we've faced previously -- esp. Buffalo -- have admonished our lack of depth, but it's not like:

a) anybody's stopped them yet,
b) nobody else has scored key goals.

Anaheim might very well accomplish a), but I can't see any situation in which b) happens. Even while Heatley, Spezza and Alfredsson lead the team ... and the league ... in playoff scoring, Saprykin, Fisher, Vermette, McAmmond, Preissing have come up huge. Any player is capable of igniting our offense and that has to count for something. In terms of pure numbers, our offense may not be balanced, as in evenly distributed, but the depth is there. Each line has at least one player capable of scoring.

Revisionist history. I can't believe what I'm hearing out of some pundits. Suddenly, Pittsburgh goes from a formidable rookie team to a team with a porous defense -- where was that when you were making your Pittsburgh in 7 prediction? Then, New Jersey goes from an experienced, defensive-minded team to a washed-up veteran team with a terrible goalie. Buffalo -- well, Buffalo just didn't play up to expectations. Shall I dig up all off the media's wise musings on how much Ottawa had to prove against the final "true" challenger? Every team that we faced was finally supposed to reveal our fatal weakness, but the Senators just kept on rolling. Yet instead of giving credit to the Ottawa Senators, the media insists that the opposition simply failed to show up.

Yes, Jeff Marek, I am talking to you.

Giguere. The quality of the oppositions' goaltending has steadily increased with each round. Here we hit a high with J-S Giguere. The boys were patient and worked through Ryan Miller's impossible saves and were not discouraged a note. Here's hoping that patience and persistence manifests itself when it is needed.

Emery. Peter Zezel was on AM640 yesterday talking about how Emery should be a little bit nervous otherwise it will ... hurt him ... because he doesn't have the experience of Brodeur/Roy to back up confidence. It seemed to the hosts that Emery just seemed a little bit too loose in the media.

I have no idea what he wanted to say, only that what he did say made no freaking sense. Emery should be nervous? Well, firstly, if Emery were nervous, why the hell would he tell the media? Why should he be nervous? Just because he's confident doesn't mean he's not excited. Emery has his own headspace; nobody knows how his attitude and demeanour works. All I know is that it's worked adequately so far and the Stanley Cup Finals are not a time for experimentation.

Emery's taken a lot of criticism for being the weakest link on the Senators, that his generally average goaltending is sheltered by the excellent defensive play of the Senators, that he hasn't had to face a single rebound yet. He may not be at Giguere's level, but for a young goaltender to steal the job of a newly signed, veteran goalie -- for a young goaltender to regain the trust of his team after completely shitting the bed last playoffs, he deserves credit. He may not be spectacular each game, but he gives us just enough to carry us through.

It would be redundant to say right now that I worry about his rebounds. And his wandering from the net.

Is this real?

It only really hit me hard as I woke up today. My heart skipped a beat. I had to watch some archive games to remind myself of how we got here. It seemed so fast. To think -- for every elimination game now, the Stanley Cup will be in the building.

I really love this feeling. It's like knowing that, well, all that heartache, tears and abuse weren't for nothing. This is what you live for as a fan.

California Dreaming: Heat

2007-05-24T22:19:00.000-04:00

"Nothing is more despicable than respect based on fear."

"In the depths of winter I finally learned there was in me an invincible summer."

Speaking of no rational sense ...

-

I realized something.

That existentialist questioning last post -- it's not because I'm struggling to see where hockey fits in my life. I'm not questioning anything at all.

It's just summer!

Somewhere between mocking the Pittsburgh Penguins and driving up to Ottawa, summer hit. Summer is confusing when you're trying to keep your mind on the unnatural, icy confines -- birds chirping? Sunshine? Grass? Plants? What the hell?

Somewhere in me is a desire to escape the smoky interior, the world of TV and couches and nachoes and sitting down to Hockey Night in Canada, by going barefoot on the beach and lying down in the sunshine and sleeping. I can't help it. It's physiological. My eyes have starved for sunlight after six months of relative darkness.

Don't worry, summer's romance wears off quickly on me when I realize how humid it is.

-

We're in the freaking Stanley Cup freaking finals.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

-

Now, something of pressing importance, it seems in the midst of Toronto:

Is it possible to cheer for the Senators and be a Leafs fan? Any time the Senators are mentioned on Toronto media, they are used as comparisons, snidely deriding the Leafs' history. And frankly, I think this whole thing is a bit self-indulgent on the part of Leaf fans ... I haven't heard a single Senators fan concerned so far with whether there will be Leafs support for the Senators. Really, I just wanted to point out that this whole affair is fodder to fill the pages and make sure that Leafs Nation, while hibernating, still exists.

One day, though, I'm going to go crazy that everything about the Senators gets turned into something about the Leafs where I live and either piss on the Leafs logo on York Street or hitchhike down the 401 or something. Just not right now.

-

No, I know ducks are edible prey, but those sort of puns are reserved for the Sun.

I have no idea who the Anaheim Ducks are. They have no idea who we are. This is a blind date of epic proportions, awkward groping on the first date, awkward silences, awkward hand-holding. So ...what do you do?

The lasting memory I have of the Anaheim Ducks is when they used to be Mighty and Jean-Sebastian Giguere was unearthly, in both size and technique. You'll forgive me if I say I didn't watch much of that Stanley Cup Finals series, as it was both painful knowing the Sens could've been there, and it was brutal hockey. All I remember is Jean-Sebastian Giguere looking like some long lost relative of Czar Nicholas II as he lugged his consolation prize home.

The Ducks, with Pahlsson, Niedermayer and Pronger may be the legitimate threat to finally contain the Big Line. Our secondary scorers and our defense need to be scoring threats every time they hit the ice, and I hope to gawd Spezza is ready to take on the assignment of his life-time.

There is something strange about thinking of a hockey game to be played in Anaheim, California as it is steaming and humid and disgusting here on this Toronto evening.

Nausea

2007-05-22T20:58:00.000-04:00

It's been confirmed. The media has an entire week to peek around the Senators organization and dig up as much dirt as possible because game 1 won't start until Monday, May 28th.

One item of discussion that Darren Dreger found salacious was Bryan Murray's lack of a contract for next year. Eh. Yes, Bryan Murray is in a "lame-duck" situation but it's not as if he'll start coaching crappily because he resents the insecurity. It's pretty evident from the backgrounds of Murray and Muckler that Murray is groomed for the general manager position once Muckler decides to retire ... or dies. John Paddock, currently assistant coach for the Senators, is slotted to take over Murray's position, once Muckler leaves. Of course, this is all dependent on what happens next so ... perhaps this is why the story hasn't grown.

-

[Cross-posted to Hlog]

I am proud of the Ottawa Senators and how far we have come, proud of our even terrible moments rehashed, embarrassing detail for embarrassing detail, in national papers, but it occurs to me that in hockey, in sports, wins are never as great as you think they will be and the losses are never as hurtful as you think. This is all just escape, a diversion from the reality of our lives, but conversely, this is reality. We make the Senators our reality; the players, Scotiabank Place, the logo, the jerseys, the T-shirts, the celebration. But when we wake up the next morning from our hang-overs, we still awake to the pile of bills, unfinished tasks, dirty dishes, soiled sheets, unfulfilled dreams, the headaches of day-to-day living. The Stanley Cup Finals hasn't changed anything. I'm not sure even the Stanley Cup can.

So then, I'm faced with the question, exactly why are there so many sports fans, waiting patiently for championships, if it serves as a mere distraction? Partying isn't a good enough answer. We party during Mardi Gras, during Spring Break, you can party any time you want. They are an excuse for civic parties and gatherings but you don't need to be a fan to get drunk and press your boobs against glass. Are they just a way for emotionally crippled people to share a communal experience, to feel a connection? Am I emotionally crippled? Am I still capable of feeling joy without the Senators?

My heart twinges whenever they step out onto the ice. But is this a Pavlovian, conditioned response or is it indicative of something deeper? I love the team, but what the hell does that mean? I love their inception, their existence on the ice, but that all crumbles when the game ends, the gear comes off and the players become themselves again. I don't know the players. They cannot possibly exist as human beings. I don't know them as human beings -- they exist in snippets and incomplete sketches.

This probably isn't the best time to be asking these questions. Nothing about this makes rational sense. This is entertainment, but it's impossible to write this off in the same category as Lost or Pirates of the Caribbean. I've found that after all these years, I'm still puzzled as to why the hell I'm here. But I am. And I still care, and I still can't bring myself to change the channel or step away from my Alfredsson T-shirt or ignore tonight's Western Conference Final. I just don't know why.

-

Update: 10:49 pm. As of now, the Anaheim Ducks lead the Detroit Red Wings 3-0 and we will probably be facing them in the Finals.

Does the circle of coincidences about this situation strike anybody as absolutely eerie?

Tomorrow is May 23, 2007, a mere 4 years from the day Jeff Friesen broke my heart.

Had we held on, had we scored, we would've moved onto face the Anaheim Mighty Ducks in the Stanley Cup Finals.

At that time, Bryan Murray was their GM.

Facing Hasek would've been beautifully circular, but this is even more so.

Buffalo Soldiers: Part V

2007-05-20T10:43:00.000-04:00

GAME 5: OTTAWA 3 at BUFFALO 2 (OT)
Senators win series 4-1

I would drive 250 km
and I would drive 250 km more
just to be the girl who drove 500 km
to jump up when you score

I spent 10 hours yesterday on the road and 5 hours at Scotiabank Place. 10 hours gazing at the 401 and 5 hours at my happy place. I nearly cried out of delusional happiness when we entered into the parking lot and Sens flags, jerseys, shirts, foam fingers, puck-heads, pom-poms permeated the place.

I've never been to Scotiabank Place, and I felt a little silly about spending almost half a day on the road until I realized that this place is my spiritual home, plunked out in the middle of the suburbs. Cyclone Taylor. Silver Seven. Palladium. There Alfie's huge beautiful face greeted me on a flag and nobody was screaming insults at me and I felt so validated. This is home. The sun shone down so intensely that Scotiabank Place had the appearance of an oasis in the desert.

I don't mind afternoon games, but -- heatstroke.

I was going to die of heatstroke if the Senators didn't win because I was going to be so dehydrated from crying and sitting there numbly that I would keel over and die.

Hundreds of Sens fans plunked themselves down on lawn chairs and beach towels in front of a SensVision LED screen, which was remarkably clear on the sunny day. You could have your photo taken with a cut-out of the Sens, 2006-7 edition, and this was probably the most popular: a girl grumbled as she waited for 20 minutes, watching a daughter-and-father duo make their way with every single player in the first row. A radio station right beside them started giving away jerseys to correct trivia questions, and had I been louder and closer to the middle, I could've walked away with one. Nobody knew that Spezza, not Neil or McGrattan, holds the Senators' record for the most PIMs in one period (Philly slugfest, 03-04).

-

When the game starts, though, all eyes are on the screen. Nobody moves -- except for kids that skip about, whining for more food or going to meet Spartacat. Cheers burst out spontaneously, and when it feels like things are getting too anxious and nervous, a pair comes by with a huge Go Sens Go sign scrawled on a piece of cloth the size of my bed to rouse the crowd. Alfie is greeted with bursts of Alfie! Alfie! Alfie! But it feels like the crowd is like me -- I can't cheer when my fingers are being gnarled by my mouth. We stand up for the anthems and sing along to O Canada, but we aren't at the game so we're allowed to be a little bit reserved.

(Note: I'm attempting to be as accurate as I can with the tide of the game and what happened and all that, but all I remember of yesterday is Alfie cutting across 3 Sabres to score in overtime. Everything else is a blur.)

The Sabres are a desperate team, and it's obvious in the way they feed off the noise in HSBC Arena, but it's nothing to be feared. They came out this way in nearly all the games, but they've never been able to maintain it throughout. I'm not worried when they score off an Emery give-away, only praying that Emery holds it to just a 1-0 lead in the second period. We can come back from 1-0.

Heatley, who hasn't scored in this series thus far, wrists the puck in on a 2-on-1. The crowds jump up and explode. A photographer or cameraman aims his lens at my face, jumping up and down and waving my new scarf like a drunk soccer fan.

On a quick 2-on-1, Spezza taps the puck in. 2-1. It hits me then, that if we win this game, we are only 4 wins away from Stanley. That we are representing the Eastern Conference, that we would be one of the only two games left. That all the heartache about Jeff Friesen would evaporate in a fit of alcohol and happiness.

The Senators insist on making this difficult -- strings of undisciplined and totally unnecessarily penalties result in killing a ~1:30 long 5-on-3. Redden, Alfie and Phillips do it, but we can't hang on long enough. Afinogenov, who's buzzed around all series, stickhandling in and out of our defence, taps the puck in on a power-play. I'm not expecting the team to be rattled, but if we don't get the next goal, I doubt we can win game 6. And game 7. Thank gawd I am just a fan: I am allowed to think like this.

I want to cheer during overtime, but it's impossible. The tension is palpable, every shot deserving of a relieved ohhhhh or a disappointed awwwww. But I get the sense, from the way the camera zooms in on Alfie, from the way the players determinedly clear the puck and fore-check and the way they aren't rattled by overtime, aren't rattled by the HSBC crowd, that we are not walking away from this with anything less than the first goal.

And Alfredsson ... Alfredsson, Alfredsson who was the one to let Pominville walk into Emery last season, who stood stoically in the dressing room to answer questions after every playoff failure, who gave back money when the franchise was in trouble, who stood in the cold for a Save-Our-Sens rally, picks up the puck, going against 3 Sabres players, and releases a shot that sails over Miller and into the net and wins the series for us.

I don't know what else happens next because at this point, the crowd jumps up in a throe of joy and everyone is hugging, shaking hands, screaming, pom-poms in the air, hands waving in fits of Alfie, Alfie, Alfie!

Eventually, the image of Emery grinning with his Eastern Championship hat, placed crookedly on his head, beams in. The Prince of Wales trophy is presented, and I am terrified that Alfie has touched it. I think it's Redden that finally touches it, but it doesn't really matter, I realize. After the euphoria of making it into the Finals, he will wake up and realize that it's not enough. It's really not. We are not the past two Canadian teams; we are not Calgary or Edmonton; we are not Cinderella. We are not satisfied with a Stanley Cup finals berth. We want Stanley.

I wish I could stay longer to party and drink with the rest of Ottawa, but it's a 5 hour drive and I'd like to be home before midnight. Horns honk and we are loud enough to drown out the sound of a nearby car alarm. Life is beautiful. I watch the sun sulk beneath the horizon, and everything is surreal -- we are in the Stanley Cup Finals, we are the closest we've ever been, and this from the same team that lost to the Leafs more times than I care to keep track of, the same team that broke my heart in a million pieces in 2002-3, the same team that lost to Buffalo in a reversal of the series we just played. It is difficult. It is incredibly hard for a team to believe in itself, for all the pieces to come together. After all these years, after all the heartache, we are as far as we've ever been, a path marked by delirious tears and bitterness.

It really seems so simple, if you break it down, but this has been so difficult. The Senators had to learn to lose in so many ways, going down 3-1, going up 3-1, to lose both times, blowing game 7s, not showing up, losing open games, losing tight games. This is why Sabres fans shouldn't mourn too much: your team isn't ready yet. Save for a miracle, like the ones experienced by the Tampa Bay Lightning and the Carolina Hurricanes, the core of teams need time to bond and believe in each other as much as they believe in themselves. They need to find a reason.

I catch only Buffalo's side of things on the news. Every player being interviewed looks as if they are about to cry. I'm certain that they will or already have.

I go to bed in my Alfredsson t-shirt and dream of -- what else? -- what may come.

-

I cried as much as I cheered yesterday. This whole situation seems surreal, like a dream come true -- Alfredsson with the series winner after giving up the series winner last season, a nearly mirror reversal of the series last season.

Yet for all of the talk of what's happened so far, and what may happen, I am just glad that I get to watch more Senators hockey.

Buffalo Soldiers: Part IV

2007-05-16T22:33:00.000-04:00

GAME 4: BUFFALO 3 at OTTAWA 2
Senators lead series 3-1

This game was full of terrible omens, even before game-day.

The weather was absolutely dreary, spitting, coughing and hailing all over the day I decided to wear my Sens jersey.

I apologize for my actions.

I also did something against all conscience -- I cut my hair. I had to. It was a moment of weakness and I wasn't thinking and it just was so uncomfortable and you know that feeling when your head's just being weighed down by split ends and dead growth, like the way Bonk used to weigh us down?

I apologize. I really wasn't thinking.

If I have cursed the Ottawa Senators, I don't know what I'm gonna do with myself. Shave all of it off. Keep the hair I cut off in my purse. Suggestions are welcome.

So, this streak of bad omens and terrible actions continued, manifesting itself a mere 9 seconds into the game. Off the faceoff -- a bad turnover by Meszaros, the puck skips off a skate and onto Roy who brushes it past Emery for the goal.

The Senators just don't do anything for the entire first period. We don't fore check. We don't hit. We don't pass very well. The power-play, which I complained about last game, fails us.

In the second period, the Sabres get their first power-play goal of the series on a 5-on-3 advantage. 2-0. The Senators' defense fails and it soon becomes 3-0, seemingly insurmountable.

Well! At least they managed to show up. Dean McAmmond avenges his give-aways with a slap shot off a hard drive and sequence of events by the fourth line. Peter Schaefer, after disappearing for the entire freaking series, scores his first goal on a wrist shot. The third period is marred with the Sens getting momentum, then having it drained away by shitty penalties, esp. by Heatley and Schubert.

If we had to lose a game, this is probably the fashion I'd choose to do it in. We got off to a rough start, battled back hard, but ran out of time to get the tying goal. We know we're resilient enough, we just have to start battling harder and more consistently. Plus ... losing a game that you didn't deserve to win can't hurt too much.

The timing of it, though, is awful. After the media circus around the Senators in the past week, reporters now get to feast 2 whole days on the possibility of the Senators being chokers again, unravelling the tidy storyline they'd built for themselves. Alfredsson, the boys, are so focused now, though, that I doubt they'll care.

THE GOOD
Me going to Ottawa or Buffalo. Thank you Queen Victoria. I will make my pilgrimage on Saturday.

Coming back (nearly) after being down 3-0. A series of concerted efforts, rushes, and bounces lead to the Senators scoring in a flurry. It must have reminded the Buffalo Sabres that we don't tend to play down and die. We seized advantage of their defensive lapses ... just not enough of an advantage.

THE BAD
Power-play. Well, the Buffalo Sabres have figured it out, time to go back to the drawing board. They've finally managed to anticipate the blocking and intervention of passes -- I don't think it took Lindy Ruff this long to figure out how we move the puck, the players just needed this long to execute.

Communication. On the power play: Comrie clears the puck to the far right point, which is relatively safe, except Preissing has already shifted. The puck is reached by a Sabres player who clears it. Unacceptable. Communicate. It was just sloppy hockey; I knew the boys were trying, but the effort wasn't focused and efficient.

Ray Emery letting in the first shot. Gotta stop doing that, Ray. It was a tough shot but it's just so hard being down 9 seconds into the game. We can overcome, but we need him just to be consistent. We can manage with 2 goals against in a game, but 3 is too much against a determined team. I was disappointed in Emery, although the defense was not as tight as it should've been. I wanted to see him carry his teammates for at least a little bit. He owes them.

Missing the net ... 2 crossbars. Frustrating. Redden, Preissing, Mesz all had the chances. None could put a shot that was remotely near Miller.

McAmmond. Weakest effort thus far, sort of evened out with a goal. However, he didn't help calm the boys down at all with a weak, weak give-away in our own corner. He tossed the puck in there, blindly, and was probably expecting Redden to get it, except Redden was already tied up. He didn't seem focused and took an uncharacteristic penalty that lead to the 5-on-3. Wake up, Dean.

Spezza. Has he been reading his own press? Stop, Jason, just stop. We know you're capable of much better. The Buffalo Sabres may not be leading this series, but they are President Trophy winners for good reason. They scored the most goals in the regular season for good reason. Give them the respect they deserve, and then some, by not giving away the puck. Show us why you're the Big Line, again?

Heatley. I'm just mad that he didn't score. I appreciate his effort in back-checking, but Alfie and Spezza have carried the Big Line in this series. Heatley needs to pick them up.

POSTGAME
It's a dreaded afternoon game.

It's a dreaded 2 days to discuss a loss.

We still have a 3-1 lead.

There is no reason to panic. This game was not a meltdown. It was a showcase of the Sabres' pride and grit and determination to not let an entire season's worth of work spill down the gutter. The Senators simply stopped digging, they stopped battling, they stopped searching for reasons inside themselves. They didn't look focused and they couldn't match the Sabres' emotional intensity.

With that said, emotional intensity can only get you so far. And if we're going to use emotional intensity as ammo, then I must say that the Ottawa Senators can only look back on their own playoff history and current team make-up for inspiration. They got themselves this far. They know they can go further. They must return from the emotional highs and lows to be at an equilibrium that takes nothing for granted, listens to no praise too beamingly and pays no attention to criticism too harshly.

At least all the talk of sweep is now gone. I was getting a little edgy with all the talk of the fourth win simply being a "formality" (thank you Damien Cox). The Buffalo Sabres will not die painlessly; we have to squeeze all the life out of them. Strangle them.

???
Should I head up to Ottawa for game 5 or head down to Buffalo?

Ottawa is much farther, but I'll be with my fellow brethren, something that I've never experienced. I'm just not sure if anything is happening that day, if there will be TV screens outside.

Buffalo is closer, but ... it's Buffalo. I'll be within enemy lines once again, but the advantage is I can be an emissary of light to those misguided souls and stand brave in my conviction. The Senators will actually be there, so ... it'll just feel different. Plus if I'm brave enough, I could probably get a few autographs.

Suggestions?

Buffalo Soldiers: Part III, Happy Together

2007-05-15T19:47:00.000-04:00

Still and all, why bother? Here's my answer. Many people need desperately to receive this message: I feel and think much as you do, care about many of the things you care about, although most people do not care about them. You are not alone.

We've come a long way, baby; after the tumultuous lows in December, to the anxiety and uncertainty of March, to the calmness and unforeseen focus of this team in April. The one thing this team has never failed to do, throughout, is amuse me. Jason Spezza's giggles, Heater's reservedness, Alfie's wry sense of humour, Tom Preissing's self-effacement, Emery's swagger ...

So here we are, an ode to the chemistry of this team.

Howard Berger, with thoughtfully complimentary things to say on the character of this team:

Goalie Ray Emery can be a bit of a jerk, but his swagger and cocky demeanor is serving him well in the pressure-cooker of the Stanley Cup marathon. Otherwise, the Ottawa dressing room is a reporter's paradise. Alfredsson, Spezza, Heatley, Fisher, Redden, Phillips, Corvo, Preissing, Comrie -- you name it -- they are available in any circumstance and replete with thoughtful commentary. Heatley, in particular, has impressed me. .... [he has] developed a keen sense of analysis about the game. Not to mention a timely, though slightly warped sense of humor.

Slightly warped sense of humour? If he's shown it in interviews, I wouldn't know. Whenever Heatley's on my TV, I'm staring deeply into his left, dilated pupil. I'm not paying attention to what he's saying.

Who is Tom Preissing?

Tom Preissing: "I play for the Ottawa Senators."
Random dude in mall: "No you don't!"

Introducing himself on CBC earlier this series, Tom Preissing was asked who his favourite player was growing up. “Dean McAmmond,” he deadpanned.

Watch Preissing (middle) and Volchenkov (left) as Gerber accidentally taps Phillips' fingers ...

And today, from the TSN Off-Day Report:

Chris Kelly: "[Daniel Alfredsson] should be giving me all the credit, you know, for my skates, that's the reason that he skates the way he does and he's been scoring the way he does. ... No, no one's laughing when he's got 9 goals. He can have this pair right now, if he wants."

Even though Ray Emery isn't the friendliest or humblest guy, at least he's "a bit of a jerk" in style:

Another Leafs writer has a great article about Emery's complex persona:

He is the NHLer who refuses to fit in, yet refuses to be typecast as the nut, the rebel, the hip-hop gangsta or the Great Tattooed Goalie. (He has eight. Or more.) He won $500 by eating a cockroach last season on a bet with captain Daniel Alfredsson, but as a boy he used to daydream about being an architect and took trips to the library to gaze upon architecture books. He defies easy description and seems to take pleasure in throwing those who seek to analyze him as a person or an athlete off the scent.

Alfie's dog is named Bono. You know they love you when you can bring your dog to work. Hell, I'd let his dog on my furniture.

TOMORROW
I am terrified for tomorrow. I am terrified that the apparent death throes of the Buffalo Sabres were merely seizures.

Buffalo Soldiers: Part III

2007-05-15T10:41:00.000-04:00

GAME 3: BUFFALO 0 at OTTAWA 1
Senators lead series 3-0

For a team and a fan-base that's never been up 2-0, you might expect us to be totally lost as to issues of decorum. For example, do we get out the brooms now? How anxious should we be? Should we expect the onslaught of the Buffalo Sabres, now that they might finally be woken up?

The occasion for brooms is not after a 2-0 lead. They evaporate all too quickly. We should be anxious, but not too anxious, because after all, you've see the way they've been playing. The Buffalo Sabres haven't presented themselves as scoring threats for bursts of more than 5 minutes.

This is probably the calmest I've ever been for a game 3. After watching the post-game conferences, the interviews, I'm not worried at all about the Senators' state of mind. Conversely, the Sabres look shocked to be in this position at all. Their players quietly give out the old clichés about taking it 20 minutes at a time, winning one game and so forth, but they don't look like they believe it. They don't look like they believe their situation at all.

For the first period, it might seem like the Buffalo Sabres of old. They come out with a burst, like they've started in all of the games so far, getting several good scoring chances. Eventually though, they die off. Desperation sinks in as their only scoring chances are stultified by Emery, and the only next resort is trying to go for the dekes, the individual moves over the blue-line and hoping to the hockey gawds that they don't get nailed. This rarely works. I'm pretty sure Lindy Ruff's game-plan isn't to dump the puck in and then sit back, let the Sens retrieve it and hope for a give-away. At this point, it's the players who look to have given up on their plan of execution, the almighty "system."

I thought the Sabres over-passed a lot in game 2. I guess they're one step closer in that they're now dumping it in, but they've yet to show any of the physical desire and urgency to retrieve the puck.

The Senators, meanwhile, roll off one good scoring chance on the rush after another. I'm impressed. Impressed with how many chances we've had and impressed with Miller's composure; not so impressed with Heatley or Kelly's hands, though. This game could easily have been 4-0, 5-0 for the Senators after the first period. Miller staunchly holds the line for the Sabres. In the dressing room, I imagine him staring at every one of his teammates in the eye, asking them to please show up.

This game almost grinds down to a halt in the second period. The collective shots, by both teams in the period, are in the single digits halfway through. The one saving grace for the Sabres, besides Miller, is their penalty kill: the Senators' second PP-unit with Comrie, Fisher, et.al can barely keep the puck in, while the first PP-unit has failed to get the puck on net. Thankfully, our own PK still dismantles their PP with regularity. The Sabres have given up on the power-play: you know this when they surrender a 2-on-nothing on the power-play.

The Big Line, meanwhile, continues to make their space. A hard shot by Heatley rattles off the boards, past Miller's glove, and gets tapped in by Alfie's stick. It looks so easy that I am shocked that the game is merely 1-0.

The third period is something of a formality. The Sabres lie down, play dead; Emery is barely challenged. The Sens PP still fails to garner a more comfortable 2-0 lead, but at least we're effectively killing the Sabres' time. A string of Sabres penalties essentially kills their time to gain some momentum for an effective rush.

In the last few seconds, I am still holding my breath, because the Buffalo Sabres are not the New Jersey Devils and they will score when it counts, like on Saturday night. I judge the scenarios: if the Senators win, it's a 3-0 lead, but my chances of being with my fellow Ottawa brethren during the long weekend is significantly decreased. If the Senators lose, then, well, the Sabres are alive again.

Throw your body down, boys. Clear it. Ice it. Let's just win 1-0.

Unlike last night, Phillips would note later that we left the shot-blocking to Volchie. We didn't throw ourselves out of position in an attempt to sacrifice our bodies to the puck. Ryan Miller, on the Sabres bench, knocks his mask against his stick repeatedly. He's praying. The hockey gawds don't answer. The Senators win.

It's a 3-0 lead, boys and girls. We are one win away from the Stanley Cup Finals and only the Buffalo Sabres stand in the way -- there's no need for all the hesitation and telling the boys to calm down and the killer instinct and all that, the boys know this. The fourth win is the hardest. We sound like a seasoned playoff team already.

THE GOOD
Near perfection. A 1-0 game. The opposition only had 15 shots. I don't think there's anything more we can ask from the Senators defensively. Emery probably didn't deserve his 2nd star of the game (selected by CBC), but it's hardly his fault.

Wade Redden. There was a grumbling from Ottawa fans earlier in the season that Redden did not deserve his salary. I was one of them. Redden, in the playoffs though, whether it's been a recovery from a nagging injury or simply more motivation, has been the glue and force that holds us together. This is the Wade Redden we know and love, with an added edge, throwing hits and breaking out. I was a little worried at the sharp edges of his cheekbones, because it seems like he's much skinnier. Given his quiet disposition, his 'A' might have been puzzling for some fans. Yet given the Score's report that it was Redden who urged the boys to calm down and forget about the Briere's tying goal in game 2, he's truly emerged as a leader. All the sentiments he expressed last season, after we lost to Buffalo, about his desire to win now -- well, he's backing it up.

Daniel Alfredsson. Our MVP. Our beating heart. ES, PK, PP, I don't think there's any situation out there where you wouldn't want Alfie. He's possessed, he's hitting and he's scoring.

Antoine Vermette. His habit of skate skate skate fall skate skate skate fall is still there, but at least he's learned how to cope with it. Watch Antoine Vermette clear the puck from his butt, watch him get a shot off from his elbows. No, AV20 hasn't scored yet, but with his offensive flair and PKing, this is the best hockey he's played, ever.

THE BAD
The power-play. I say this only because we didn't score, and I think the Sabres have figured their penalty-kill out. The second unit is abysmal and I've given up all hope, but for the first unit, it's just a matter of time and Miller.

Andrej Meszaros. This was one of his shakier games. It didn't seem like he'd found his legs, but I expect a better effort.

Peter Schaefer. I almost forgot about this guy. Actually, I did forget about him. He's invisible. The Sabres are inactive along the boards, Schaefer's area of specialty, but Schaefer's been inactive everywhere.

NEXT GAME
Well, I'm not even going to bother talking back to the Sabres fans who thought we were just psychologically incapable of winning. The games speak for themselves, but they shouldn't despair: your team is young, there is much to be learned.

Speaking of the bandwagon ... there isn't one, not at least where I live. For every Leafs fan who says he supports Ottawa because they're Canadian, there are 10 others that phone in wishing that a volcano would erupt and eat both teams alive.

Us. Stanley Cup Finals. One game. I am so desperate to be there.

Buffalo Soldiers: Part II

2007-05-14T11:27:00.000-04:00

GAME 2: OTTAWA 4 at BUFFALO 3 (2OT)
Senators lead series 2-0

I watch this game in high heels and uncomfortable formal attire, surrounded by bitter Leaf fans who hate the Sens more than the Sabres and meek Sens fans. I say only meek because I am hysterical during hockey games, screaming uncontrollably, so unless they are stripping themselves naked in response they are just labeled, meek.

Buffalo is screaming, jumping in unison over the advent of game 2. This isn't technically a must-win, but with the way the Sabres played in game 1, they need some momentum to head into Ottawa. In the first period of the game, I pray for the Senators to merely hang on and weather the storm. The Buffalo Sabres come out skating hard, skating circles around a quickly disintegrating Senators defense, Afinogenov and Vanek particularly making dekes and plays worthy of a continous stream of cheers and praise from the Leaf. Their momentum builds up to a power-play, and it seems like Vanek has scored from a net scramble, but we are so lucky that it is called no-goal. He bats the puck in with his glove and we are still tied, 0-0.

Vanek gets the goal back, though. The puck slides in from the shaft of his stick this time and into the net, off a terrible turnover by the Big Line. Murray is attempting to shield Preissing and Corvo's defensive deficiencies by playing them with the Big Line, but it costs us here. Jochen Hecht scores a few minutes later off a bad rebound by Emery.

Some guy sitting beside me says, "How can you let a German dude score?"

Down 2-0. Nobody should panic, though, 2-0 leads disappear all the time. On a power-play, it is Alfredsson who scores on Miller, beating him plainly, top corner. Some guy who was criticizing Alfredsson's Swedishness before gets a sarcastic mouthful of: "Who scored that? Did you see who scored that?"

All thing considered, the Senators are lucky to be down only by a goal in a game where the Sabres have every reason and opportunity to storm out to a 4-0, 5-0 lead. The intermission is filled with chatter and arguments over the Leafs, unfortunately, and what went wrong. It's the same old talk radio chatter about the Leaf owners not caring about the playoffs because they apparently aren't a good source of revenue.

Special teams continue to be a source of wonder and strength for the Senators. Despite a shitty interference call on Chris Neil, in which Roy backs his big-ass up into Chris Neil and Neiler gets called for it -- or perhaps CBC was just showing the wrong footage -- despite all the crappy Schubert penalties, we hold it together. We kill some of their momentum. And when it's our turn on the man advantage, Fisher seizes it, letting a quick shot off. That 2-0 lead is now gone.

The Senators get a 5-on-3 when Campbell and Zubrus go, terrified to watch what might happen from behind the newly cleaned penalty door glass. Redden scores from the face-off circle on a laser shot that hits the top corner of the goal -- Redden, oh gawd, Redden, silences the entire freaking arena and the CBC doesn't show the crowd outside of HSBC Arena anymore. 3-2. 3-2. The Leaf fans are absolutely stunned.

It would be the Ottawa way to treat the entire 3rd period as a 20 minute penalty kill, standing up at the blue-line and keeping the Sabres diluted and frustrated. The Sabres make one too many passes at each attempt at fore-checking, and this frustrates the hell out of the Leaf fans watching: "Shoot, just shoot goddamn you!"

They overpass and the Senators are happy to just break up their passes and send them careening, again and again. At one point, our fourth line pins them in their own zone for a good minute. I am impressed with Saprykin, and slightly relieved that I said he should stay instead of letting Eaves come back. Muckler is starting to look like a genius.

After a brief conversation with a Leaf fan about the future of the Leafs, Sundin, Raycroft, the reason for their failures, he tells me: "You know, you surprise the hell out of me."

I am flattered.

Despite not having many scoring opportunities, the Sabres tie it up with less than a minute remaining, on a scramble in which Briere is left all alone by the crease. It's a tap-in that ensures overtime. I am slightly terrified that this game might go past midnight, at which time I really must leave.

This is a devastating scenario for both teams, should they lose: to go up 3-2, only to surrender a late goal in the third to let it go into overtime, to lose in overtime would suck out all the energy and momentum from the Senators, presumably. We lost in double-overtime in New Jersey, but fought to tie the game up the entire time, so it wasn't as heartbreaking. For the Sabres, blowing a 2-0 lead, only to tie it up in the third, only to lose -- well, that, that hurts.

Some Leaf fans that haven't bothered to watch any Senators hockey this playoffs make the brash statement that Emery isn't an overtime goalie. Perhaps all they've seen of Emery's work in overtime is game 1 from last year's Buffalo series. No matter. They soon learn.

In the first overtime, Vermette fans on a wide open net. Our very own Thumper breaks his stick in frustration. The Senators carry much of the play, and with a few timely saves by Emery and some impossible-seeming saves by Miller, nothing is resolved. Heatley, by this time, must have had at least 3 golden opportunities to score, but he's either shot it wide or can't get a proper shot off. Alas.

Who can watch overtime hockey? I can't. I'm literally clutching my heart at this point, taking checks of my pulse, trying to breathe so I won't keel over at a heart-attack before the age of 30. I'm still screaming, though.

"Stop screaming," a Leaf fan says, "we can see what's happening."

"I can't, I don't control it."

He smiles a little and says, "I think you're just a passionate fan, that's all. But try to keep the screaming down."

"It's overtime. I don't think I have any energy left." Then the Sabres go on another rush, the puck jumps off the post, and I can't control myself. I revise that statement with a smile: "No, apparently I do."

It's 11:40 at this time, and with only about 4 hours of sleep, the entire thing seems very surreal. The HSBC Arena isn't as energetic as it was at the start, and I'm almost totally horizontal at this point. Somebody has to score.

JOE FREAKIN' CORVO.

On a "dirty" puck that skips from the point past Miller's stick and into the net and it's over, the Buffalo Sabres are down 2-0, their fans are leaving, and the Senators gather in a first moment of relief at center ice. Joe Corvo owed us for New Jersey's double-overtime goal last series; he owed us for the first Buffalo goal; he no longer owes us.

This is the immensity of what has happened, this is how many statistics were broken by this game:

* Volchenkov blocks 11 shots. The Sabres block 19 as a team.
* The Sabres were 46-0 with a 2 goal lead.
* The Sabres were undefeated when scoring the first goal.
* The Senators have never gone up 2-0 in a series.

Buffalo Soldiers: Part I

2007-05-11T19:39:00.000-04:00

GAME 1: OTTAWA 5 at BUFFALO 2
Senators lead series 1-0

[Personal disclaimer: I'm sorry for not getting this up sooner. I was basking in the soft afterglow of victory but also swamped with real life stuff. Also, barring any unforeseen last minute type of things, it looks like this Sens fan in Toronto will soon become a Sens fan in Montreal.]

I miss the first half of the first period and I am panicked, shaking until I realize that we are up 1-0.

Leads are futile, ephemeral against the Buffalo Sabres, but they are better than a deficit.

Alfie's laser shot beats Miller on a power-play; it's not the type of goal I expected to go in. Then again, when I finally see a re-play of Fisher's short-handed goal, it's not the type of play I expected the Senators to make.

With a 2-0 lead, the Senators start bending. Afinogenov makes his skill painfully obvious to the Senators by cutting our lead in half. After an intermission and a terrible, weird play after a face-off in which our defensemen get tangled up and Toni Looooodman walks out, sending the puck skipping between Emery's legs, almost like Heatley's sharply angled goal to beat Brodeur last series.

And here, you see, was a game of defying expectations.

Had the Sabres been playing any other Senators team -- had this been last year -- we would've given up the next goal. At 2-2, blowing a 2-0 lead, we would have panicked and gone back and forth until the score hit 6-6 and they score the overtime winner on a give-away.

Not this year. Some Sabres fans (you know who you are) are annoyed at the Senators' constant claims that they are "different." I hope they finally see what we are talking about. Despite all of Miller's fantastic saves, despite all of Heatley's missed chances, the Senators never stopped pressing once the game was tied.

Any possible momentum of the Sabres are erased, deflated by the Senators methodical penalty kill. Passes are dismantled, pucks scream to the Buffalo end of the ice.

And what about those opportunities? Those Sabres taking those turn-overs, turning them into dangerous rushes and capitalizing? And their fantastic depth? Oh the irony, as Oleg Saprykin turned a seemingly innocent rush into a goal. Dean McAmmond centered the puck, the puck skittered off Oleg's stick and past Ryan Miller -- only a tiny bit more graceful than Jason Spezza's goal in game 4, vs Pittsburgh.

The Sabres' special teams fails to keep them in the game. Wade Redden's power-play shot from a point is directed in by Spezza's stick and we regain a 2 goal lead. An improbable drive by the Sabres with their goalie pulled bloats our lead up to 3, as Dean McAmmond throws the puck in on a very sharp angle. 5-2.

THE GOOD

Daniel Alfredsson. Oh dear god. I'm not sure I believe that the change in his play is entirely due to adjustments to his skates, as Elliotte Friedman reported in a segment. That's the reason he's looked so uncomfortable and anxious? Skates? Why didn't you say something earlier? Alfredsson is the best player on all three zones of the ice, all three situations. Frankly, I can't contemplate any situation in which Alfredsson hasn't made his presence known. He is possessed.

Mike Fisher. Mike Fisher doesn't have the softest hands, but he made them count when it mattered. Sabres fans will insist that physicality is not a weakness of the Sabres, but to beat them, you certainly have to be physical. Meet Mike Fisher.

Jason Spezza. For outplaying Drury.

THE BAD
Dany Heatley. Stop missing! Score!

Mike Comrie. It is very likely that Comrie is hurt. At least, I want to think so, because his handle on the puck has been atrocious.

Tom Preissing & Joe Corvo. I think their defensive instability got exposed a little bit by the faster Buffalo Sabres. They are our weakest defensive pairing by far; Murray adjusted by hiding them with the Spezza line. Terrible positioning. I blame Preissing's bald face.

Failure to clear the puck along the boards. Don Cherry was right.

POSTGAME

Really, this means nothing. It doesn't matter that we won game 1 and we will go home with no worse than a split: it matters that we've never gone up 2-0.

They know this. We know this. Perhaps they felt a bit of relief at the split; perhaps they tried a little less. Either way, the Buffalo Sabres's "jitters" won't be present in game 2. The "extra gear" -- "extra notch" -- in putting it all the Sabres' talent together, must at least be on its way to being pressed.

If this "exorcism" is to be complete, the Senators need to win game 2.

On a less demanding note -- this is perhaps the most focused edition of the Senators ever iced. Celebrations after goals do not involve gratuitous hugging or sliding among the ice. Hell, I've yet to see a pile-up, even after a series clincher. They know it isn't the time to celebrate yet; they know what they truly want.

Buffalo Soldiers: On Hatred

2007-05-09T11:17:00.000-04:00

You know, there's hatred, there's obsession, and there's obsession with hatred. Then there's attempting to "analyze" under the cloud of hatred:

I despise the Ottawa Senators in a way that I no longer despise the Rangers, because they’ll never understand why it is that they suck.

Ouch.

This produces invaluable insights such as these:

* The Senators will suck this playoffs because the Buffalo Sabres are "due" to be better, and "due" to knock out some of our players.
* Martin Brodeur is an AHL goalie.
* Rangers > Ottawa and Buffalo > Rangers, so Ottawa < Rangers < Buffalo.
* Someone will shut down Heatley-Spezza-Alfredsson ... because someone has to, so someone will find a way.
* The Senators will suck because we keep saying we're "different," when we're really not, because Murray's supposed to be a more offensive coach so we're clearly lying and being mislead when we're told that our team is more committed to a total team defense. This makes us schizophrenic.

Is this what hatred does to you? Cloud your judgement to the point where you, as a fan of a team that has never won a Stanley Cup, has the audacity to chastise another team for not bringing in proven playoff performers? Is hatred simply making a blood-sport out of humourlessly belittling and marginalizing your opponents? If so then, I don't hate the Buffalo Sabres.

Among fans, belittling opponents has little effect other than getting a temporary rise out of the fans. I am merely amused and puzzled as to where their arrogance comes from. Is it in the water?

Buffalo fans, however, weren't the only ones to take shots. Ales Kotalik came up with this beauty:

"I think we can take advantage of him," said Ales Kotalik. "I think Ryan is a better goalie than him. We've been facing better goalies than he is. We will see. He's got a big, big body. But we know he can give up some pretty easy goals. So hopefully, he didn't forget last year's playoffs and he's going to give up some this year, too."

This won't bother Emery because in the wise words of Jason Spezza, "Nothing gets into Ray's head. I don't think he gets into his own head." Still, what's the point of giving us more ammunition like this? I don't think we needed anymore motivation, but just in case, here it is.

Hatred is not an adequate source of motivation. The Senators can't allow themselves to focus entirely on trivialities like this -- who hit who, who got a concussion, who fought who, etc. The anger and anticipation of the series is bubbling over right now, but each game is its own lifetime. Momentum, anger, all that crap means nothing when we step onto the ice.

STORYLINE SKETCHES

* Goaltending. A lot has been said about how weak Emery's rebounds are, and I was an ardent critic, but the rebounds are only terrible when teams can take advantage of them. New Jersey hasn't done it. Pittsburgh hasn't done it. The Buffalo Sabres might. However, Emery has been a steadying influence on the Senators -- you can't belittle his 2 shut-outs at incredibly key times. There's no reason to believe that he will melt down again -- this is not the rookie who faced the Buffalo Sabres las tround.

Miller, on the other hand, hasn't been spectacular either. He has won the battle against Lundqvist and in comparison to Emery, he has more a tendency to be up and down in his play. He has a very different temperament: he might get shelled for 6 goals only to shut a team out the next day. He has better potential to be great than Emery, but he also tends to suffer more cruel lows.

* Forwards. The Senators' offense, contrary to popular belief, is not a one-line team. Secondary scoring from Comrie, Vermette and McAmmond were key in both series' and moreover, it's not fair to ignore the offensive contribution of our defense. Out of our top 10 producers of points, 4 are defensemen. That is extraordinary.

While I will concede that the Buffalo Sabres are better offensively balanced and more talented throughout their line-up, the Ottawa Senators have a better mixture of defensive, offensive and physical talents throughout their line-up. There is less repetition. Whether it is better to be consistently offensive or balanced, we will see.

* Defense. This is the only area where I feel the Senators have an advantage over the Sabres. While their defense is incredibly mobile and talented, they don't really have anything in the way of a complete shut-down pairing like Phillichenkov. Our defense is deeper and more diverse.

Special teams and coaching to come later ...

This wait is agonizing.

The general impression I have of both teams is that while Buffalo is more talented throughout, they have yet to find their next "gear." They have all the potential in the world to do it, and with a "proven winner" such as Chris Drury, they tend to play up to their opponents. When and how they do this is utterly unpredictable.

The Senators, on the other hand, have had a much more even playoff performance. They've been consistently competitive and hard, let's say. I can feel that they want it from the moment they step out onto the ice (most times, anyway). McGuire said blithely that he doesn't know if this team can play any better. I say they don't need to play better -- it's impossible to even ponder whether Ottawa's best in the New Jersey series is good enough for this series. Nobody knows what the ceiling of this team could be, and at what point it guarantees a win. The potential of each team varies throughout each series -- thus, this whole argument about the ceiling potential of the Ottawa Senators is pretty empty.

Buffalo Soldiers: The Time Between

2007-05-07T23:16:00.000-04:00

ON THURSDAY ...
Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo.

The aspect that worries me the most is the odd-man rushes of the Buffalo Sabres. No, we didn't allow many against the New Jersey Devils, but it's the odd-man rushes that completely deflated us last year. I hope to gawd that Murray has the foresight to review how to play the 2-on-1 with Redden: take the pass. Let Emery worry about the shooter. We trust him now.

SENS FAN IN TORONTO
I've written in here about the only other Sens fan in my school. He is several years younger than I and wears his red, fuzzy Senators sweater everyday. A teacher tells me that he starts all of his math problems by making some ridiculously wrong conjecture and claiming, "A Leafs fan would've written this ..." Every time I see him, he has the red-rimmed eyes of Jordan Staal with a hang-over, win or lose.

Perhaps he's been crying, perhaps it's just the way he is, but his expression, gawd, I want to ask him, why so sad? I want to give him a hug, tell him everything will work out one way or another and believing in your team doesn't require you to be on the verge of tears all the time.

STAJAN VS SPEZZA
Ladies and gentlemen, I think I've failed as a hockey fan: my friends still don't know the difference between Matt Stajan and Jason Spezza, despite my enthusiastic indoctrination and ramblings. Someone kept telling me that a math teacher in my school had taught Jason Spezza for a day, but it only turned out to be Matt Stajan, and he was in the wrong class. I was sorely disappointed in my friends. The one redeeming consequence was the teacher reminiscing and telling me how impressed he was by Craig Billington, an old, old Senators goalie, who got 95 in OAC Calculus and did all of his homework on the bus.

SHINY STUFF
I was just going through my stuff and found an old autograph from a member of the 04-05 London Knights. The player had gone to my school and came back for graduation, with chipped teeth and a bright smile. He wore his Memorial Cup ring on his wedding finger and I asked shyly if I could touch it. He slipped it off his finger and I held the heavy, clunky thing in my hands, with its huge, glittering jewels. I want one, I want to win one, I want one.

EAVES
Eaves has been practising and is supposedly ready to play. We need all the depth we can get over the Sabres, although I am reluctant to put in Eaves in place of Saprykin. Saprykin's certainly deserved his playing time with his speed and tenacity, although I still wish he'd cut down on the penalties.

Buffalo Soldiers: A Short Prologue

2007-05-06T23:23:00.000-04:00

Whereas the New Jersey prologue was full of heartache and longing and wistfulness, I am still bitter and frustrated and disgusted from the Buffalo series last year. I was angry at Emery for being a rookie, angry at Hasek for being injured, angry at Murray for not doing something about anything, angry at Alfie for not being better, angry at the entire goddamn team. It's not something I want to relive. Alas, should you have forgotten, the evidence still remains.

I was mildly amused by the Pittsburgh Penguins. I respected the history and abilities of the New Jersey Devils.

I outright, gawddamn hate, hate the Buffalo Sabres.

I rarely use the word, but the word here, with all of its compact power, is entirely appropriate.

I'm getting ready for the series by practising my glaring, relaxing my jaw so I can grind it more, and smashing stuff.

I hate Buffalo.

I don't know how the players think, but I suspect that they harbor some kind of resentment and hate; the team unity, the team cohesion, the team goal to go out there and sink their teeth into Buffalo wings and bones and skin and tear them apart.

The journey isn't over. We have much more to give on the ice. We have much more left.

Sympathy for the Devil: Part V

2007-05-05T23:59:00.000-04:00

GAME 5: OTTAWA 3 at NEW JERSEY 2
Senators win series 4-1

This is an exorcism, this is a purging, this is irony at its best.

The first period is the last throe of a dying team; New Jersey finally physically asserts themselves, creating turnovers in the neutral zone and keeping us pinned to the boards for minutes, forechecking like mad.

Gomez scores off a rush, tucking the puck in behind a sprawled Emery. This is certainly the best period the Devils have played in the series (as well it should be) and they deserve more than a one-goal lead, but fortunate bounces keeping the puck away from breakaway chances and Emery keep the tension. Maybe the Devils relax a little. They know that they are undefeated when defending a 1-0 lead; they are outshooting the Senators by 8; they're at home; the arena isn't empty ...

Some aspects of the Devils' game don't really ever change -- they still get most of their chances off the face-off. The Senators can't get out of their own zone because they can't win a face-off so Emery is forced to make a save for the face-off so they can't get out of their own zone because they can't win a face-off.

Towards the end of the first, Neil leads the Senators in establishing a tougher forecheck. Despite moving the puck around in their zone, the Devils don't allow a probable scoring chance, keeping all 3 shots screened and to the perimeter. Still, Neil, Fisher, crash, bang their way into the Devils' zone. The physical play is partly due to the laxity of the referees -- there is only one call in the first period, which is remarkable. Heatley needlessly interferes and sits in the box as his team-mates calmly suffocate a Devils power-play.

The second period renews this effort. The Senators start to fore-check better, and on a furious rush by Vermette, he barely keeps the puck in, and I mean by a hair. The Devils give the puck away and a shot from the half-boards by Tom Preissing is deflected by Vermette into the net. Brodeur doesn't look graceful as the puck skitters between his legs and slowly, agonizingly, it must seem, into the net.

Perhaps nobody else sees this, but on a camera shot of the Sens' bench, Preissing, the Chuck Norris look-alike, sticks his tongue out playfully for the camera. He's adorable in the way only an Economics major can be.

After Vermette's goal, the Devils urgently try to regain their lead. Emery holds them in until Saprykin, a one-man wrecking machine, throws himself at the Devils to create a fore-check. He's insane, pressing every Devils player against the glass at least once, diving down to keep the puck in, diving down to clear the puck.

The Senators finally get their chance on the power-play, when Selke nominee Pandolfo goes off for goaltender interference. Spezza beats Brodeur with an improbable shot from the face-off circle. It sails cleanly over Brodeur's left shoulder, with Heatley's big ass screening Brodeur's face. There are so many bodies in front that it's impossible to tell if Spezza's shot was clean and just a beautiful release, or it deflected off someone's body part.

The Devils keep pressing, with their new plan of trying to take advantage of Emery's rebounds. It is true -- most of them are in the middle of the ice, but every time they come out, the Senators are the first ones there.

Mike Comrie, after a glorious chance, meets Brodeur's glove and heatedly exclaims, "Fuck!" as the camera zooms in on him. He looks so scruffy he could pass for an art student.

A few minutes later, any hope of a Devils' comeback is destroyed by an Alfredsson wrist-shot, from the left face-off circle, that skips between Brodeur's legs and into the net. It's demoralizing. It's not a Brodeur-calibre goal against. It's just the sort of thing we needed.

(Maybe Brodeur should've taken more time with his equipment. Bob Cole helpfully points out that his left strap is undone and sounds distressed that Marty has not realized it.)

After the goal, the camera examines the faces of the Devils. In Internetspeak, their expressions are roughly translated as:

:(

and

WTF?

Is this it? Is this the series?

(I'd like to ponder this, but the commercial for Canada Post with the coin people comes on and I am terrified. They dissolve and come together and dissolve ... what the hell is going on?)

As we head into the third period, Bob Cole seemingly doesn't bother to look at the scoreboard. "They scored two goals in the second," he says. He speaks of a tense "one-goal" lead. I don't think he realizes that 4 goals are scored until halfway through the period.

The New Jersey fans, give them credit, though because there's not a lot of them, there isn't much credit to be given, aren't turning it in. Chants of Let's go Devils still ring on television. Still the Devils hit, fore-check, and finally the E(lias) G(omez) G(ionta) line is allowed to face the Big Line (we'll think of a name later). Nothing going. The Senators have learned from the New Jersey Devils. We clog up the middle and trap and trap and trap. One fore-checker in, everyone back, and penetration is impossible unless we turn it over. Despite a Philly boarding call, our PK still doesn't allow them any room. Actually, there's not much difference between our PK play and ES play this period ... except Fisher gets a SH break-away chance on the PK, while we barely register a shot during ES.

This is when the fans start booing.

With about 2 minutes to go, the Devils pull their goalie. I know they will score. This is the way it has to be. With 39.8 seconds to go, they do it. But nothing more -- the clock runs down and the Senators burst out onto the ice, calmly, no bear-hugs or players sliding along the ice or pile-ups, but a civilized celebration. The players exchange hand-shakes, with almost every Senator player giving an extra tap to Brodeur.

At the end, the goalies exchange words.

Emery tells Brodeur it was an honour to play against him.

Brodeur tells Emery that the last goalie to beat him won the Conn Smythe and the Stanley Cup. Go win it all, he tells Ray.

In the 25th season of their existence, the 2007 Devils die after having gave birth to the 2007 Ottawa Senators nearly exactly 4 years ago. 3-2.

Sympathy for the Devil: Part IV, The Bandwagon

2007-05-04T11:04:00.000-04:00

Now that the Senators are the sole Canadian team left in the playoffs, I look ahead to the days where our tender hope for the Senators are overtaken by disappointed fans of other teams supporting "Canada's" team and obnoxious predictions.

I'm kidding. I welcome all those who have seen the light of the Senators' gospel.

Though I would never be a bandwagon fan -- though it pains me that not everyone is aware of the pain, abuse and crap we had to go through to get here, the Senators are deserving of every fan they have on this playoff run, temporary or permanent. I hope every hockey fan who turns into see the Senators gets converted. (That means you, you, all of you and even you, but I'm not holding my breath.)

I ask only one thing of you: please, learn something about the team before you take the plunge. It will cause me physical pain to witness quizzical fans asking, "Who's Tom Preissing?"

MEDIA-ROUNDUP
Elias wouldn't be so lucky. Standing between him and Emery -- and a potential game-tying goal that could very well have led to an even series going back to the Meadowlands -- was Anton Volchenkov. You oughta know the A-Train isn't going to be beaten from the slot by now.
"Where did it hit you?" a reporter asked Volchenkov after the game. "Right here," he said, pointing to his chest.
An eavesdropping Peter Schaefer couldn't help himself. "Right in the heart," Schaefer said emphatically.

Brennan: A-Train deserved Norris Nomination

Eh, this was really Volchenkov's break-out season. Nobody was really aware of him before this year, and I don't think he has enough offensive output (right now) to be considered. Even for "defensive" defencemen to win, usually 35 pts is the minimum.

At yesterday's morning skate, Jason Spezza was the "Juice Boy" loser. That means he was last man standing in the penalty shot competition. "Only it wasn't regular Juice Boy," Spezza pointed out. "It was score-on-a-net-turned-sideways. When they start turning the net sideways in games, I'll start working on that part of my game." ... Losing doesn't bother Spezza too much, eh? "Wasn't regular Juice Boy," he was mumbling while serving up Gatorade to the boys. "Wasn't regular Juice Boy."

This is from a few days ago, but it was too cute to pass up.

Sympathy for the Devil: Part IV

2007-05-03T20:34:00.000-04:00

GAME 4: NEW JERSEY 2 at OTTAWA 3
Senators lead series 3-1

ALFIE! ALFIE! ALFIE! ALFIE!

Alfie scores.

How surreal is this? The crowd screams his name, and he goes on to score from a feed in the slot by Heatley. Martin Brodeur does not start off invincible tonight. After the goal, the Senators sit back slightly and the New Jersey Devils are in their best form so far -- Gionta, Gomez are much more aggressive, faster, sweeping through our zone.

Emery's rebounds are simply gigantic. He kicks the puck from the net to the blueline. New Jersey's game-plan consists of capitalizing on these, but due to the grace of gawd and Volchenkov, most of these dangerous rebounds are swept out of our zone.

Even as the Devils enjoyed 3 power-plays, our penalty kill keeps them out of the middle of the ice. Their power-play is blanked. The goal-post is our friend.

The game wasn't as capitivating as the New Jersey Devils would've liked it. I say this because the Senators stole the Devils' game-plan after a lead, and clogged the neutral zone like hair clogging my drain. Unfortunately, this only works when you don't turn anything over. We can't keep the puck on our own stick in the neutral zone for an entire two periods -- are we tired? Unfocused?

During the first intermission, Don Cherry and Ron MacLean speak to soldiers in Afghanistan. They are wearing Senators jerseys and end the segment with a rousing round of GO SENS GO -- in one of the most dangerous places on earth, in the heat of the desert, at 4 am, somebody believes.

The Devils tie the game on a power-play marker, after being frustrated on their 3. A weird change by the penalty-killing Senators leaves the entire right side of the ice open, and the Devils are finally allowed to penetrate, to meet Emery face-to-face ... Gionta finally scores. This is probably the Devils' best period of hockey so far: they are attacking with a previously unseen urgency. Despite Emery's huge rebounds, he manages to keep us in it when it is most critical.

Just when it looks like we're in for another round of tied hockey, Heatley throws the puck on net on a very, very sharp angle. The puck squeezes itself between Brodeur's legs, bounces off the back of his skate and into the net. I think it's incredibly lucky, but it's just a testament to Heatley's sixth sense of scoring -- despite being like molasses on the ice, he scores goals. Anywhere, anytime, anyhow. Broduer does not look impressed with himself.

In the third intermission, they show an interview with soldiers in the background, screaming as Heatley scores. I don't think any of them are glued to the screen -- they're drinking beer, and I'm pretty sure one guy has to turn around to cheer. Like I said, the game isn't incredibly capitivating.

About 5 minutes into the period, Mike Fisher scores on a very, very unlikely shot. He throws the puck on net just before a Devils defender lifts it, and the puck skips over Brodeur's glove and into the net. 3-1.

The Devils aren't willing to give up easily, to make this another throwaway 2-goal game. Visions of being down 3-1 dance in their heads. Pandolfo scores about 5 minutes later, with two Devils parked in front of the net and Tom Preissing trying to move them out, but only screening Emery in the process. The puck jumps into the net without being touched. The tension returns. Oh, the tension.

The last few minutes isn't as scrambly as the New Jersey Devils would hope -- the Senators take a deep breath and break up passes, block shots. The last face-off is with 2 seconds to go in the New Jersey zone. No chance. They're done. A 3-1 lead it is.

THE GOOD
Daniel Alfredsson. The most magical moment of the playoffs so far has been the crowd screaming Alfie! and then his goal. He's been fantastic on the penalty kill, the power-play, even strength ... I don't worry about him anymore.

Dany Heatley. Heater gets it done. It's not always pretty or expected neither does it make the highlight reels, but he gets it done. He hasn't been as good as Spezza in improving the defensive aspects of the game, but I think that has to do with his utter lack of mobility. I think after a traumatic car accident, his knee is a sprain away from being completely shattered, thus hampering his speed on the ice. It hasn't really affected his offensive production (leading the league in points!), but his defensive side could improve a lot.

Wade Redden. Murray keeps saying that Redden is better because he's moving his feet more. I agree. He's supposed to be our most mobile defenseman, and for a while, he looked too hesitant with the puck. Tonight was New Jersey's best physical effort and he handled it well.

Jason Spezza. Jason, Jason, Jason. Jaaaaaaason. He's arrived, boys and girls, and I love every part of it. His enthusiastic adoption of defense and offense has rounded him out to be a force, a factor every time he's on the ice. I love the way he can be absolutely silly off the ice but on the ice, you seem his mouth move and his fingers point and you know he's making a play to lead the boys ... to victory!

I noticed that he's surprisingly strong at taking the puck away from attackers. Him and his wood -stick have wrestled many-a-pucks away from the Devils.

Chris Neil. I thought this was Neil's best game of the playoffs so far -- very strong on the fore-check, feisty, one of his better games with and without the puck.

Ray Emery. His rebounds were terrible, but he has enough mental composure to make a save at the most critical moment of the game. I am still confused as to what the hell the bald spot on his head is for, but whatever works for Ray Emery.

THE BAD
Too many silly penalties. Really, must we have a hooking call each game? Must Schaefer squeeze his little butt into the penalty box every game? Penalty kills are exhaustive and energy draining. It's not the most efficient way to go.

Losing focus midway through. The New Jersey Devils are very good at out-waiting. I can't say that we were completely outplayed during any parts, but it is by the grace of g*d and the goalposts that the Devils didn't score on their chances.

POST-GAME

Two very interesting notes:

"We finally proved that if you shoot pucks at Emery, he doesn't look too good," Brodeur said.

Either the author of this newspaper is lying or Brodeur isn't very bright. Why bait a very competitive goalie who:

a) outplayed you;
b) will play on Saturday?

Is Brodeur just bitter?

Is Elisha Cuthbert Mike Comrie's new girlfriend?

Look for the Game 4 post-game, watch at about 15:00 mark. You will see Mike Comrie exiting with Elisha Cuthbert and another gentleman. Elisha sat with this gentleman, eating pop-corn and cheering for the Senators during the game.

I wonder what Sean Avery thinks. Mike Comrie's not terrible looking.

Sympathy for the Devil: Part III

2007-04-30T23:21:00.001-04:00

GAME 3: NEW JERSEY 0 at OTTAWA 2
Senators lead series 2-1

PREGAME
My vain efforts to search for signals from the universe on the subject of this series paid off when I realized that my French teacher has a slight resemblance to Lou Lamoriello.

GAME
Say hello to Jason Spezza, who started his playoff debut as a sparkplug for a team down 3-1 and continues his playoff run as a leader on a team up 2-1. Say hello to Ray Emery, who outduelled arguably the greatest goalie of the modern era. Say hello to Wade Redden, whose career lowlight happened with 2:14 to go against this team, who is visibly determined not to give a single damn inch anymore. Say hello to Daniel Alfredsson, who after years of doubt, has shaken it off. Say hello to your Ottawa Senators.

It was the best all-around effort yet. Consistency, toughness, resiliency, patience ... I am loathed to say grit, an overused and underappreciated term, but it is perfectly apt in this case. The Senators started from the first face-off and never let off.

The first and second periods, up until the point where Preissing scored, was mostly the Senators against Broder. Here was a flash of Brodeur's ass as he backed it up to make a save. Here was a flash of Brodeur's legs as he split them to make a glove save. Here was Marty's hand, Marty's head, Marty's blocker, Marty's stick, Marty's fat inflated chest ... "Martin Brodeur is unbeatable," Bob Cole proclaimed emphatically.

It felt like it, too. The Ottawa Senators did not beat the New Jersey Devils -- they beat Martin Brodeur. The New Jersey Devils weren't very visible, with their offense consisting of low-chance, screened shots from the face-off circles. Even on their numerous power-play chances, nothing really clicked for them -- one pass, two pass, three pass, too many. Out it went.

So, it came down to if the Ottawa Senators could beat Martin Brodeur.

Yes, they did, and no, they didn't.

The game-winning goal was scored by an odd angle shot by Tom Preissing, apparently on an ill-positioned Brodeur. Mike Fisher clipped Brodeur as he roamed through the crease, tippling Brodeur off-balance. When Preissing scored the goal, the anger on Brodeur's face was palpable. TSN's panel almost unanimously called it a no-goal. (If that had been the actual decision, the game would still be going on now, I assure you.)

I will simply chalk it up to an error of human element. These things even out over time.

Jason Spezza, on a 2-on-1 with Daniel Alfredsson against an empty net, scored with a soft, feathery touch. The determination on his face -- Spezza's arrived.

Even though I was relieved to see Spezza score an empty-net goal, I really wanted to win 1-0. Just to know what it feels like, that and for the irony, too. A 1-0 victory against the New Jersey Devils. Who are you again? And who are we again? That's right.

In many ways, this would've been the heartbreaker, had it not turned out the way it did. I can't imagine a better effort out of the boys -- everyone was hitting, everyone was skating. I can't imagine the Senators trying any harder than this.

THE GOOD
Penalty-killing. Was it us, or was it them? We'll say it's us. Constant pressure, active sticks, very small lanes for the Devils to shoot or pass. Despite yet another needless penalty by Schaefer and some penalties taken by key PKers such as Phillichenkov, we killed 'em all. The Devils had few chances on even-strength, and the power-play was their only opportunity to get back into the game. We took that away from them.

Jason Spezza. He's been around, it seems, for ages, yet this has truly been his blossoming. He splayed down to block an important shot in the last moments of the game, signalling his maturity as a reliable, two-way player. For all his giggling and awkward habits off the ice, he strikes me as eminently serious on the ice. He is a scholar of the game, in a very pure and beautiful way.

In the game, he squeezed through the trap and made half a dozen improbable plays that would've resulted in goals if not for some guy named Martin Brodeur.

Bryan Murray has not backed down from matching Spezza against a formidable shut-down center in John Madden, and Spezza's accomplishments are even more commendable when viewed in that light.

Persistence. The Senators, despite Bob Cole's praise for Martin Brodeur, kept throwing pucks at him. Eventually, something had to happen. And it did. In the face of a hot goalie, we did not shy away and give up. We did not call it a day and use it as an excuse.

Mike Comrie. Comrie's finally found his groove in this serious, after a dubious start. He's found his niche physically and I'm started to get used to the sight of him driving the puck along the boards after nailing a defenseman.

Wade Redden. I'm not sure why he's suddenly turned his play around. He's been more willing to take a hit in order to make the play, and for that we are all infinitely grateful. Perhaps the break in between rounds allowed him to heal up a little bit, but everything is more mental with Wade than it is personal. His mother died around this time of year, although all we have is pure speculation.

Mike Fisher -- "best eyes in hockey." Damn right. Nice to see Don Cherry recognize Mike Fisher for the beauty that he is. Fisher's softer offensive skills, such as playmaking and shot accuracy, are still in doubt, but Fisher manhandled Gomez tonight. He pursued their top offensive player ferociously and pretty soon, Gomez was resigned to taking perimeter shots.

Emery. I was terrified he would let in the first shot again. The fears were unfounded. Though he didn't get much action in comparison to Brodeur, he battled admirably. Every shot was an adventure with Emery though, as everyone travelled and fought for his large gaping rebounds. You still can't argue with a shut-out.

THE BAD
"Mike" Eaves is still out with a concussion. No, I just thought this was a clever way to point out CBC's gaffe.

We're not finished yet. The boys have to maintain this effort and intensity for two more games at least. I know they have it in them.

SILLY NOTE
On the DET-SJ series: for the longest time I thought Franzen's first name was Jonathan. I was convinced the announcers were wrong when they kept calling him Johan. Then I realized one plays for the Detroit Red Wings and another wrote The Corrections. Ouch.

I am still angry at Hasek for what he did to us last year, costing us a year of our window. I cannot, in good conscience, wish him luck. He'll get what he deserves.

POSTGAME

The Senators have been fierce so far. I could not have expected this in November. There is a lot of talk about us shedding the "choker" label, by the same people who authoritatively gave us that label. Every press conference, Bryan Murray will respond to questions about past teams by indicating that this year is "different." We can look for signals of character all we like, but nothing is in stone until you have 4 wins.

Sympathy for the Devil: Part II

2007-04-29T18:35:00.000-04:00

GAME 2: OTTAWA 2 at NEW JERSEY 3 (2OT)
Series tied 1-1

I would have posted earlier today, but CityTV was showing Monty Python's the Meaning of Life and I couldn't help it. The game started at 8 pm Eastern time, and finished 3.5 hours later. My brain was not working, so all my post-game thoughts would've consisted of drool and lines of "Every Sperm is Sacred."

I wasn't heartbroken when Langenbrunner scored the double-overtime goal on a breakaway. My heart didn't drop, my throat didn't close, the end of the world wasn't near. My thighs stopped their involuntary spasms, but that's because the game ended. It wasn't a terrible loss.

GAME
The Senators start off weak. The Devils, buoyed by all of their 14 000, with which the use of towels apparently buoys them up to 20 000 according to Martin Brodeur, get out to a quick 1-0 lead. Throughout this entire period, the Senators:

a) fail to win key face-offs in their own zone;
b) fail to clear their own goddamn zone;
c) fail to forecheck because of a and b.

Add to this some horrendous penalties taken by a careless Peter Schaefer and Mike Fisher, and we have two Devils goals on power-plays.

With 0.2 seconds to go in the first period, the Devils win a key face-off (see a) and score on Emery's far side. At this point, I am reminded of the numerous goals that the Devils scored off the face-off, before Lalime even realized the puck had dropped. TSN would later show replays of how if the clock had been started the precise moment the puck dropped, the goal would've been too late but this is a bit absurd -- we can't expect person running the clock to have the reflexes of Superman. 0.7 seconds is enough for an "inherent human deficiency."

We leave the first period outshot badly, 16-5.

In the second period, I hope the Devils get a few quality chances on Emery. I do not like his play so far, but he does prove himself when the Devils force him into a few tight saves. He looks less porous ...

Daniel Alfredsson scores on a power-play. There is life. The Senators finally activate their forecheck and start attacking, relentlessly, but the pucks ping off post after crossbar after post and I start to think maybe this is just one of those nights.

In the next two periods, the Senators would outshoot the Devils 26-8. There would be a stretch where we had the face-off in their own zone, and we just kept throwing the puck on Brodeur and he would just keeps making that ridiculous glove save with his legs spread apart wide enough to ride an elephant.

Ugh.

The Senators pull the goaltending in the last few moments of the third period, as expected. We get a huge scramble in front of the net, as expected. Then Heatley, honest to gawd, scores. He SCORED. With 27 seconds to go, Heatley tied the game up. I was so stunned I let out a cry reserved for hyenas and women in childbirth.

The first overtime period sees more of idiotic penalties--

Who the hell takes a bench minor in the overtime of a playoff game, I ask you?

Miraculously, we kill of all of those penalties. Even when Volchenkov closes his hand on the puck and is sent to the penalty box, we manage to kill them all off.

Besides these penalties however, the play is heavily tilted towards the Senators. The Devils don't have much in the way of chances and every of their adventures into our zone is marked by blocked shots and deflections. As the period ends, Volchenkov heaves over himself, having blocked a shot with those thick Russian thighs.

As the second overtime period starts, everyone feels exhausted. The announcers speak slowlier, the players move a bit slower. Corvo and Preissing make a dangerous pinch, but as the puck comes squirting out into the stick of Jamie Langenbrunner, none of them can catch him in time. He quickly dekes out Ray Emery and sadly, Emery's skate is an inch too small to save the goal.

After the game, Corvo looks puzzled. But I am relieved that there is no sinking feeling, no feeling that the Senators will never score again. We will be back. A tied series isn't the end of the world.

Meanwhile, the CBC joins Rush Hour already in progress, but the cool kids are watching Monty Python.

THE GOOD
Scoring with 27 seconds to go. The Senators did not give up on this game, taking nothing for granted and going for everything. Contrary to the rumours, Brodeur is not Chuck Norris nor is he unbeatable.

Second period play onwards. Good forechecking, physical play.

Big line coming up big. Alfie, Spezza, Heater, all responsible for our goals. Alfe was something fierce, while Spezza is from the junior-eligible brat he was the last time we played against New Jersey. Heater still isn't moving his feet much, but it isn't as evident with Alfie to cover for him.

THE BAD
Ray Emery letting in the first goal on shot. Ugh. It did go off Joe Corvo's skate, but it is a terrible habit that he's carried through from the first few games of the Pittsburgh series. Calm down, Ray.

Only the Big Line coming up big. Comrie? ... Vermette? ... Schaefer? ... Fisher? ... Anyone? Please?

Preissing-Corvo. They looked to be the most uncomfortable pairing out there tonight, and well, you know, they let in the winning goal.

POST-GAME
I think the series may come down to which team can win the first period. So far, the team with the lead coming out of the first period has won. In New Jersey's last series against the Lightning, the team to score the first goal won the game.

One game is not a meltdown. It doesn't even need to lead to a meltdown. It doesn't even need to be the end of the series, believe it or not. I perused the fan-boards today and was surprised at how much negativity is out there. Perhaps the Senators, with all their constant reminds of being "different," forgot to remind some of their fans.

Relax. We may be 0-8 in game 2s but speaking of useless statistics, did you know that 78% of teams who score more power-play goals win the game? Did you also know that 100% of teams who score more goals than the other, win the game?

The Senators didn't let up last night, and neither should their fans.

Onto game 3.

We are water.

Sympathy for the Devil: Part I, Bend, Don't Break

2007-04-27T21:09:00.000-04:00

"I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, 'If this isn't nice, I don't know what is.'"

Things you may not have noticed last night:

Dany Heatley's physicality.

Tom Preissing's muscles.

Last night, James Duthie said that this year's Senators "bend, but don't break."

We want to be like water. A pebble breaks the water's surface and what happens? Not an explosion, no earthquakes. The water absorbs the pebble approriately, sending out ripples throughout. In a few seconds, it's like nothing ever happened.

Sympathy for the Devil: Part I

2007-04-26T23:29:00.000-04:00

GAME 1: OTTAWA 5 at NEW JERSEY 4
Senators lead series 1-0

4-0. 4-3. 5-3. 5-4!

Well, I don't think any of us were expecting that.

Funnily enough, I managed to miss all 5 of the Senators' goals. The entire time I was in front of the TV, New Jersey scored. I think the Universe is trying to tell me something.

Terrible goaltending by Martin Brodeur, and although Emery barely beat him, Rayzor wasn't much more commendable. I don't think any of us were expecting that.

Really, what happens when you score 5 goals on New Jersey? I'm expecting to wake up tomorrow to find the earth spinning the opposite way.

I am exhausted, alas, this game summary shall be a Coles' Notes.

THE GOOD
Wade Redden. Much, much better at getting the puck of our zone. It may just be the grizzled playoff beard, but he looks much tougher and more assertive. In a post-game interview, he determinedly said that he does not pay attention to the media critiques of his play. He seemed positively puzzled when Elliotte Friedman told him he was being criticized. Sometimes Wade Redden is the opposite of Joe Corvo -- he seems almost painfully unaware of himself. For whatever reason -- if not criticism -- Wade stepped it up today. Perhaps he's just on a mission to avenge 2003.

Joe Corvo. They said that he couldn't carry the puck up like he did against the Pittsburgh Penguins, when faced with a tougher defense: they were wrong. Don Cherry kept complaining that nobody talked about him. He's was under "The Good" for the entire Pittsburgh series, save the clinching game, in which he's implied under "Perfection." Clearly, Cherry should pay more attention to bloggers.

One-goal win. This was just a weird, weird game. 4-0. 4-3. 5-3. 5-4. A tug-of-war of rusty teams with unfocused goaltenders. Still, we must thank Parise for scoring the goal with 30 seconds to goal because for all intents and purposes, this pads our dreaded one-goal-game statistic. The Senators should be scolded for letting in that last minute goal to give a brief moment of hope for who am I kidding, I am so relieved that they didn't melt down and hung on for dear life.

Dany Heatley. Hey Heater. Nice of you to show up. I think I know you from somewhere.

THE BAD
Ray Emery. Oy. He was terrific in the first period, holding the Senators in there when the score was really far too generous, but was quite nervous in the second. He had trouble handling the puck, fumbling easy saves many times. When he did make the save in the second period, it seemed not to be of his own accord but the chance event of the puck just hitting him. He was better in the third, but he looked demoralized at Parise's meaningless goal with 30 seconds to go.

Mike Comrie. Worst playoff game so far. A terrible, lazy give-away leads directly to a Devils' goal. Terribly timed penalties. I think at this point, the novelty of the playoffs has worn off and he realizes what a grind it is. Well, this is when we need you the most, Mikey.

The second period. Easily our worst period of hockey so far. No forechecking, no defense, running around like a headless chicken ... I'm glad we at least came out of this with a win. Yuck.

NEXT GAME
Haha! We stole a game! I'm sorry, we rarely do this, it is truly a situation for rejoicing.

Alas, the Devils and Brodeur, Satan himself, will not be happy. They will come out much, much harder in game 2 and the Senators, despite stealing this one, need to put together a harder, more consistent effort. We especially need a better performance from Emery -- maybe now he knows that he's merely battling a mortal person, he'll look less nervous.

Sympathy for the Devil: Anticipation

2007-04-25T22:01:00.000-04:00

"We have to continually be jumping off cliffs and developing our wings on the way down."

With a week's rest between rounds, my playoff jumpiness has grown rusty. I haven't seen any absurd Devils references -- nothing like a Scotiabank Place on Crosby Avenue from last round, anyhow.

It's not that New Jersey doesn't scare me. They are the perennial machines of the playoffs, and a constant test of patience and whatnot. But they have been around for so long that I have wonder if after a while, it really doesn't matter anymore. Martin Brodeur will get into the Hockey Hall of Fame based on his accomplishments, with or without two more Stanley Cups. They know the Stanley Cup inside out -- it doesn't hold any mystery or intrigue, but I suppose that like any other professional athlete, they play for their teammates and pride.

In this day and age, if we see another Red Wings vs Devils final, I'm going to kill my TV.

Also,

what the hell did Atlanta do to Marian Hossa?

-

I'm hoping for the Senators to come out full-steam, but patient. New Jersey will wait for a mistake, sit back, have a margarita. The Senators need to dictate the pace of the game and well -- score against Martin Brodeur, the Breathing Legend. He will be taking Sidney Crosby's role as the holder of the obligatory media spotlight. That's the way it should be.

It's not really about avenging 2003. We all know that nothing can compensate for what happened then -- the only thing left to do is prove that we learned something from then.

Go Sens Go!

Sympathy for the Devil: The Prologue

2007-04-22T18:21:00.000-04:00

The Ottawa Senators will face the New Jersey Devils in the second round.

Do you remember them? Do you remember Marian Hossa, shy, blonde and assertive puck-hogger? Do you remember Radek Bonk, who could grow a decent playoff beard in a day? Do you remember Magnus Arvedson, who had an unfortunate run-in with an open bench door? Do you remember Patrick Lalime, before his collapse, when the Martian on his mask was still cute? Do you remember Martin Havlat, that cocky little puck-dangler?

Do you remember Jacques Martin, Roger Neilson? Jason Spezza as a rookie?

The young and eager Senators, full of bravado and an airtight system, had moved onto the Eastern Conference Finals playing only 11 games in the first two rounds. The New York Islanders and Philadelphia Flyers littered their past, and the Senators braced themselves for Brodeur's steely abilities.

In game 1, the Senators are running on a pure high. Martin Havlat makes an amazing pass to an unlikely Shaun Van Allen to score an overtime goal; it's a beautiful, tic-tac-toe play. 3-2 Senators, in OT. The VHS line, they are named. Maybe we can hang around in this, despite New Jersey's gloried past and clout. After all, we are not playing the New Jersey Devils of 1995 or 2000 -- we are here and we are now.

In game 2, the deficiences of the Ottawa Senators are clear. In a brutal move, our captain tries to stop a bouncing puck with his skates. It fails. He is the last man back, and the Devils rush up the ice to furiously capitalize on a breakaway. It is ugly and morale killing.

(Did this happen during game 2? Was it a power-play or just a weak, pinching play? Did they even score?)

Game 2 ends 4-1 New Jersey.

When game 3 turns around, I wonder if we are mature enough to handle this. Brodeur still looks smug from his last Cup victory, little more than 3 years ago, and the Devils are an absolute machine. They don't need many factors to survive -- they are hardy, like a desert plant, getting on by capitalizing on their few scoring chances. A hardy monk. They don't need much -- no flash, not much creativity. Everyone is replaceable. Except Brodeur. Brodeur, who methodically shuts out the Senators 1-0. It is ugly. It is the sort of score you can't imagine the game ending in, yet it is terribly possible and real.

In game 4, the New Jersey Devils remain the New Jersey Devils. In the insipid words of Tom Renney: they are what they are. And us? Nothing's working. Despite dominating for about half of the game, the Devils outwait us. Alfredsson draws several retaliatory penalties; the rest of the team follows suit, frustration palpable. Nothing's working. 5-2.

Jacques Martin is not a coach fond of unchecked creativity. He is not very impressed by Spezza's raw talent and undisciplined play. Spezza plays for much of the season in the minors, despite his draft-year colleague Kovalchuk given an opportunity to play in the big league, unrestrained. Yet Jacques Martin knows the time to take a risk. The Senators are down 3-1 and hockey's best right wing, Alfredsson, Havlat, Hossa, is dry. Spezza is called up and prepares to skate in his first NHL playoff game.

There is more to this story than just Spezza's youth. Roger Neilson, a fatherly assistant coach, suffering from pancreatic cancer, is so weak by this point he can't watch the games from his box anymore. He gives the team a stirring pregame speech: you know they listen to him. He sends out a defenseman on a penalty shot because nobody says that he can't, he waves white flags to protest the referees because nobody says he can't, but he has never won the Stanley Cup. Mike Fisher is practically his son. They want to win for him.

Spezza works. Listening to Roger works. And by gawd, the game is beautiful like an oasis. Spezza sets up Havlat's game-winning goal, and then finally scores a rare power-play goal. 3-1 Senators, a two goal win that makes fans delirious with hope. Spezza comes as a spark in a dull night. It is our first victory in a must-win game.

Meanwhile, the Anaheim Mighty Ducks have swept the Minnesota Wild in a dull, mind-numbing fashion. It is great technical hockey, yes, but without any sense of passion or excitement. They are Cinderella, and I hesitate to look ahead, but their playoff run just seems improbable. When the players speak, they don't speak like they know they deserve to be there.

One game. One bloody win to even the entire thing up and make the rest of the games, wasted time, not count. I don't even remember much of this game. All I remember is screaming Chris Phillips' name in delight, ecstacy, as he swung wildly at the puck and batted it in, admist a crowd of delirious Senators in overtime. 2-1.

Game 7. Did you really think I could stand to watch this entire game? Arvedsson scores on a blast, early. I settle down. I wish I were religious so I could have rosary beads in my hands and not feel strange. My heart sinks to the floor when the Devils, not swayed by the pure emotional outbursts of Senator fans in the Corel Centre, tie the score. My heart sinks to the dirt when they, seemingly in a smug defiance of the crowd, score to lead.

I didn't know at the time that I would hate Bonk later. He just had a funny name and finally seemed comfortable. He scores the tying goal. Unfortunately -- or fortunately -- at this point, I am hiding underneath the covers of my safe and secure bed, afraid to watch the Senators lose. Perhaps I should've just stayed in there.

We are 2:30 away from overtime. The Senators are undefeated in overtime; on the confidence of Chris Phillips' goal last game, the team believes they can get the next goal should it come to that. Wade Redden would admit later he hadn't expected the Devils to score -- "I thought we would just take it to overtime," he says, eyes averted.

Jeff Friesen and Grant Marshall lead the rush for New Jersey into our zone. It is innocuous. Innocent. Not only are Redden and Rachunek on the case, Havlat even comes back to back-check. Somehow, Marshall attracts the attention of all three Senators and Friesen is left alone to beat Patrick Lalime 1-on-1.

It's all gone.

The Devils swarm out onto the ice, and Wade Redden is so demoralized he cannot pick himself up. He presses his face into his hands, mouth gaping for air, the series of events burned into his brain and replayed in a loop. Maybe he thinks about the regular season, how far they had to travel to get to this point. Maybe he thinks about Stanley. In the span of two minutes, it is all gone.

They tried. Wade Redden looks to be on the verge of tears. When the New Jersey Devils skate their victory lap, they are not skating on ice -- they are skating on the blood, sweat and guts of every Senator out there.

Ottawa rains the next day. The Devils go onto win the Stanley Cup against Ducks, in an utterly forgettable series, save Steven's hit on Kariya and Brodeur's mishandling of the puck. Jean-Sebastien Giguere lugs his Conn Smythe home like a pile of groceries. I can't bear to watch as Stanley comes out.

Roger Neilson dies, without having his name engraved on the Stanley Cup.

There was hope. Spezza, an improbable playoff hero, was disgustingly young. Hossa, Havlat, Volchenkov, Schaefer, all in their prime and youth. Surely they could only benefit from experience. You have to lose before you learn to win. Nobody could know, or want to know, that 4 years later, 3 seasons passed, this is still the closest we have come.

March of the Penguins: Part V, The End

2007-04-19T21:56:00.000-04:00

GAME 5: PITTSBURGH 0 at OTTAWA 3
Ottawa wins series 4-1

I panic about missing the first 15 minutes of this game. I panic about what the hockey gawds might have in store for me, as punishment. As it turns out, the Senators have just begun to re-assert themselves offensively after giving up two 5-on-3 opportunities. The rest of the period is spent on trying to spend more time in their zone.

The Senators have the habit of winning games in the second period. Heatley scores on a feed from Alfredsson, slipping the puck in before Fleury realizes what's going on. Usually, when the Senators are up by only 1, it feels like a tie. I feel like it might as well be, because the Penguins surely, surely will score another opportunistic goal to tie this baby up. Not so tonight. It felt over. It felt like the start of a barrage. And the barrage did come: Vermette scored on a breakaway, tucking the puck in between Fleury's legs. The look on his face after he scored was pure relief: Antoine's been dry for a while now, although he's logged quality defensive minutes. Then, another unlikely scorer, Chris Kelly, with the anticipation of a natural goal scorer, beat a sprawled Fleury cleanly. It's beautiful.

The third period is lights out: the Penguins are still flopping on the deck, hopeful for anything the Senators may give them. Nothing. Go home, Pittsburgh. Gary Roberts, meanwhile, spitefully makes the heart of all Sens fans drop as Volchenkov limps up from his hit. Anton, with a braved face, would return. I am pretty sure that more than one Sens fan had the intention of literally hunting Roberts down had Volchenkov not bravely (maybe unwisely?) returned. By the time the scoreboard hits 2 minutes, the Penguins know their time is up. They've had their Versus ad. Crosby's done enough post-game conferences. It's over.

Scotiabank Places erupts into a frenzy of pom-poms, cheers and hugs. As the players line up for hugs, almost every Senator player shows a gesture of affection towards Crosby: an extra tap, an extra wide smile. Chris Neil treats gives Gary Roberts props like they are old schoolyard chums.
Bob Cole calls Sidney Crosby his "son" and predicts a bright future for him. CBC's camera ruefully follows Crosby as he disappears into the dark corridor, before they finally discuss the Senators. Even as they interview Daniel Alfredsson, an evaluation of "The Next One" is the last request.

The game was perfect.

From two amazing 5-on-3 penalty kills in the beginning of the game, to the way the power-play came together and opportune scoring, to the lights off hockey in the third period. I mean, utter perfection. This was the other level of play I hoped for yesterday. I didn't bite my fingers much because there was the palpable feeling, from staring at every determined player on the bench, that Pittsburgh would not be winning this game, come hell or Maurice Richard's second coming. The crowd buzzed all night, teasing out Robert's name ironically and waving those black and red pom-poms like the Senators' lives depended on it.

The Good
Perfection. Surely there isn't too much to ask for every night in the playoffs.

Ray Emery. 3 goals, 4 goals, 2 goals, 1 goal, 0 goals. He just looks more comfortable in there, making the big saves when needed and being absolutely confident.

Wade Redden. Finally. FINALLY! Glad to see the real Redden back. Much more assertive on the puck, even threw out a few hits. He made a great pass to hit Mike Comrie on a breakaway.

Chris Kelly. "There was something in the air that night, the stars were bright, Fernando ..." No offense to Kelly, but he was probably the last player you expected to have such a fantastic playoff series in terms of offensive production, based on the regular season alone.

Phillichenkov. I haven't really mentioned them before, but maybe it's because their game is precisely what I expected. Anton Volchenkov, not one to embelish hits, takes a nasty one from Gary Roberts, only to return within 10 minutes. You could colour in the rainbow with all the bruises on his body. And Phillips -- he has been and probably will always be our most consistent playoff warrior. He was probably the most visible player that the Penguins' offense saw.

Rest. Sweet, sweet rest for Patrick Eaves, Dany Heatley and Anton Volchenkov. Dany Heatley is probably playing injured: even on the goal that he scored, he hesitated to move his feet too much.

The Bad
No Sens hockey for at least the next few days. :(

POST-GAME
Round 2! Round 2!

Right now, the permutations are as follows:

If the Sabres win,
and the Devils win,
then the Senators will play the Devils.

If the Sabres win,
and the Lightning win,
then the Senators will play the Rangers.

If the Sabres lose,
and the Devils win,
the Senators will play the Rangers.

If the Sabres lose,
and the Lightning win,
the Senators will play the Islanders.

I'm still marvelling at our play in this series. I thought this series would go to 6, at the very least. I'm happy that all Crosby talk will now be associated with his shut-down by Phillichenkov.

March of the Penguins: Part IV, Can't Take My Eyes Off You

2007-04-18T20:22:00.000-04:00

MELICHAR
You know, after re-watching the clip a few more times, I've realized something: Melichar is a piece of shit. He chases Eaves around the net, and as soon as he sees Armstrong coming, he takes out his free hand and pushes Eaves towards Armstrong. He clearly intends to put Eaves in harm, in an unconscionable way.

I don't know how much his action affected Eaves' injury. Although Eaves has been diagnosed with just "headaches," he will be not be available for game 5. Still, the spirit of his action is disgusting. Eaves had his head down, Armstrong would have nailed him with or without Melichar's help, yet Melichar feels like he has to guide Eaves into the right fucking direction?

YouTube link coming soon, having technical difficulties at the moment.

BE LIKE ALFIE
"But I will tell you one thing," [Mats Sundin] said emphatically. "The Toronto Maple Leafs will win the Stanley Cup while I'm still with the team."

If he guarantees something in the off-season, and nobody is around to call him on it, is it still a guarantee?

UM ... WHAT?
Has the Toronto Star begun to lay off fact checkers?

How else can you explain this travesty of journalism?

They're not the guys who have choked in past playoffs. They've learned from their mistakes. They've matured.

For the first time under coach Bryan Murray, the Sens won a playoff game decided by one goal. They had lost the previous six of those affairs, including four to Toronto.

Somewhere in between being bitter and trying to play up to the Leafs fan-base, Kevin McGran forgot to check his facts. Our only win against Buffalo last playoffs was by one goal. Our clincher against Tampa Bay was by one goal. Game 6 of the '03-'04 game vs the Leafs was an OT victory ... yes, another one-goal victory. I have no idea what this "previous six" statistic is referring to -- including the one-goal loss in game 2 vs Pittsburgh and all 5 games vs Buffalo, Ottawa has 2 wins.

"Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment. There is no why."

Kurt Vonnegut was the biggest literary influence on my growing adolescence. It is a sign of the times when your literary hero dies, albeit at 84. One day, Wayne Gretzky will die. No matter how his coaching career turns out, I think the entire country may mourn.

CAN'T TAKE MY EYES OFF YOU
We must win game 5. There is no point in letting the Penguins flop around any longer, thinking that they have a chance at this. This needs to be the Senators' best game so far; getting closer to clinching must bring us to an entire new level. Bring it hard.

Go Sens Go!

March of the Penguins: Part IV

2007-04-17T22:01:00.000-04:00

GAME 4: OTTAWA 2 at PITTSBURGH 1
Senators lead series 3-1

PREGAME
I notice that the Crosby Avenue I must cross daily is also home to a Scotiabank branch. Cosmic.

GAME
Oh dear god. Oh my god.

The Pittsburgh Penguins have figured out how to forecheck.

Spezza's shot on a power-play skips off a Penguin player's stick and behind M-A Fleury. Despite this flukey power-play goal in the first 5 minutes of the game, the Penguins shown previously unseen strength on the puck. The Senators adjust fairly well in the first period -- we are fairly even, but I gnaw my fingers and figure we are lucky to be up by a goal.

The second period is probably the Senators' worse period so far. The Penguins spend time our zone, unmolested, and despite great pains to push them to the perimeter of the ice, Jordan Staal, firmly entrenched in front of the net, scores the tying goal on a series of Emery's rebounds. In waves they come: Penguins, rushing to our zone, fiercely determined. Redden is taken off easily; make a check and he will relinquish the puck. Volchenkov, Phillips, grimly take several penalties in a row as they counter against 87's overpowering leg strength. Several times, 87 propels across the ice like a firecracker. He's everywhere.

Gary Roberts, meanwhile, grits his teeth and makes a hit with every opportunity he gets. Sometimes his elbows are up a little too high for my liking, but he gets away with it. The referees don't bat an eye, even as he dangerously checks Sens along the boards.

Even though the Senators don't fore-check much in the second, it seems like we are deflecting or breaking up at least half of the Penguins' passes. Not that our counter-attack is strong -- we push the puck back, only to have the Penguins scramble and attempt to set-up again. Waves. I examine the bone of my second finger with my teeth.

In the third period, I am nervously anticipating overtime. Hopefully. Emery has looked stronger and stronger and although the Penguins have pressed, the Senators aren't ready to quit. There aren't many moments of opportunity -- or, if there are, they are by Heatley and gawd knows his release won't fool anybody -- but we seize on poor defensive converage. Volchenkov's blast from the point skips its way into the net, and the Igloo is frozen in silence. There are about 10 minutes left in the third period.

The Senators switch to shut-down mode. This is a team that consistently gave up leads in the third period throughout the regular season -- obviously, we haven't mastered it. My finger now feels too raw and I have to switch hands.

For the rest of the 10 minutes, the Penguins attack again, hard, pressing our defensemen with hits and attempting to shot from every angle possible. They pour their hearts out, straining their faces with bleak determination on every face-off in the Senators zone. Although Spezza and Vermette win several face-offs cleanly, our defensemen are unable to clear the puck out, ensuring an elevated heart-rate and chaotic scrambles in the corners, in front of the net. A Penguin player is attempting to shoot as time winds down. 0. It's over. The Senators hesitate in a brief moment of comprehension before throwing their arms up in relief. Emery is lovingly tapped and hugged, even before he has a chance to get up from his stance in goal.

This is a game we would have lost in the regular season. It is the weakest effort thus far, as the Penguins dominated for stretches. Still. It is a small miracle that the Senators managed to get the lead and hold on to it, all in the third period. I stretch my fingers -- there are red blotches in the shape of teeth marks that won't fade for another day.

The Good
Joe Corvo. He's here alll week, folks. I'm still impressed with his ability to gain the zone. He's been a much steadier defensive presence than I expected.

Mike Comrie. Look at the midget go! Excellent presence on the fore-check, one of the few players with strength on the puck.

Christoph Schubert. His versatility paid off. He had to switch from a forward position, to killing dangerous penalties as a defenseman. Blocked shots, broke up passes, threw out a few hits.

Ray Emery. Finally. This is the Ray Emery I wanted to see. Incredibly confident with many key saves at key times to keep the Senators in the game, even though the Penguins dominated puck possession. He even stared down Sidney Crosby as 87 unwisely chose to venture a little too far into his crease.

Can win the series next game! ... Well, it's true.

The Bad
Dany Heatley. No pressure on the puck. He slides off way too easily; a gentle shove by a Penguin and he gives it up. His release is far too long and he's lost that touch that gave him 50 goals in the regular season. Terrible. If he can't score, he should at least be a decent defensive presence -- and even in that regard, he's been put out of position too easily by a hit. I was disgusted by him lazily attempting to poke the puck away in his own damn zone. Skate, damn you.

Wade Redden. Same problems as Heatley -- not strong enough on the puck. He looks so nervous out there, I wonder what's going on in his head. Wade, the real Wade, is a lot better than the Wade that's out there, scrambled and confused after the tiniest physical contact, lost as the Penguins criss-cross our zone. At this point, I'd consider giving him fewer minutes or calling him straight out. As a leader on this team, he needs to make himself accountable.

Lack of physicality. At one point, the CBC proudly showed about 5 Gary Roberts hits in a row. The Senators did not assert themselves physically and even though we won, we didn't really dominate or dictate play.

POST-GAME
I'm watching CBC's post-game show. After a few minutes of watching an empty Saddledome fill up and several commercials, Michel Therrien, deflated, speaks to the powers of the Senators. "They're a good team," he says sadly.

Sidney Crosby, at age 19, sits in front of a blue screen to answer questions by himself. I'm impressed. His wet, curly hair looks carefully coiffed. He rests his chin in his hands thoughtfully, repeating, "We just have to win the next game."

I debate staying up a few more minutes to see if they will bother hearing from the Senators. As soon as Crosby's press conference ends, I decide to listen to what Murray has to say. Instead, the screen fades to black. Nobody loves us, it's true.

Forget CBC. In the Sportsnet highlights, Crosby says: "We didn't get the two points." He's either on automatic or he hasn't prepared for the playoffs. For a player who apparently whose body shines with the lines of "every single humanly possible muscle," he probably at least thought about the playoffs. He speaks automatically, throwing out all optimistic clichés. I wish I could get him drunk and figure out what he's really like.

Volchenkov: "I da score much this season. Goals. And uh, score big goals for this game. And. Just shooting puck."

Spezza, on whether his flukey PP goal deserves a place on the highlight reels: "Definitely. I think the playoff ones are a little more important and uh, I definitely scored some prettier ones but that one's just as important as any other." Giggles edited out. He's got some decent facial hair.

Boys and girls, the Senators can finish this series in front of their adoring fans on Thursday. They have, for all intents and purposes, stolen one when it counted, and may now regroup and put together the intensity needed to finish this series.

We need to end this now, before giving the Penguins anymore momentum. They are capable of playing better. We are capable of better.

Also, note for the off-season: Sign Comrie.

March of the Penguins: Part III, There Is A Light That Never Goes Out

2007-04-16T20:41:00.000-04:00

There are two days in the playoffs. Game-day, and the days spent waiting. Game-days are anxious affairs, filled with palpable tension and distraction. The most minuscule detail becomes significant -- is it the right colour? The right intention? In the hours within game-time, I relax. It's not so bad. It's the days in between game-days, the days spent waiting and recapping that drive me crazy.

The twinge of emotions get magnified. Praise is heaped upon the Senators in the press, but they are merely words, words heaped upon something that is already finished, gone, escaped. Nobody can tell me what will happen tomorrow, whether yesterday's game will have meant anything at all. And so we beat on, boats against the current, borne ceaselessly back into the past.

ARMSTRONG "CONTROVERSY"
I don't see anything that warrants this hit as a controversy. The only player presenting an opinion that Armstrong's hit was dirty is Jason Spezza, who is probably just trying to stick up for his teammate. The place of legal shots to the head is something that the league needs to discuss, but the timing isn't quite right. For all that we say, it's most likely that this issue will be ignored until it either happens to a more crucial player than Eaves at a more crucial time. It's not like the Senators have been the only victims of this -- hell, we've dished out two or three of them. Recall Schaefer's hit on Connolly and Neil's hit on Drury.

This feels like an exhausted debate, though. Save it for the off-season.

WE NEED A WAR?
Bruce Garrioch ended his column with these ominous words: Don't be surprised if the Penguins put George Laraque back in the lineup because this has turned into a physical series.

While this series has been physical, physicality has not been the reason for the Penguins' losses. They've failed to establish a decent forecheck and simply aren't strong on the puck. Inserting Georges Laraque would not help their game in any of these areas. Likewise, I hope Brian McGrattan has already played his last game of the season. This isn't the regular season, where petty fights will break out in a masculine coded, testosterone-charged affair to fight for "honour."

This is the freaking playoffs. We may face-wash Colby Armstrong in a pile-up, but we're here to win the game. For a team that has looked weak during 5-on-5 play, I can't see the Pens being lifted or comforted by Laraque's presence.

THERE IS A LIGHT THAT NEVER GOES OUT
Kurt Vonnegut, before quitting his job at Sports Illustrated, on a race in which a horse jumped the rail: "The horse jumped over the fucking fence."

Now that's journalism.

Enough prayers. Enough waiting. Just win the fucking game.

March of the Penguins: Part III

2007-04-15T22:08:00.000-04:00

GAME 3: OTTAWA 4 at PITTSBURGH 2
Senators lead series 2-1

PREGAME
Us -- "choking dogs." Are we done choking yet? Are we starting to choke? When will the choking end? Tied 1-1. Lost a game we shouldn't have a lost. It's over. The momentum is theirs. Team of Destiny. Take it, Sidney. Take the reins, make Mario proud and make America fall in love with you ...

GAME
Soft, whistling boos rain down on the Canadian anthem. I have no idea why. Crosby is Canadian. They love Crosby, don't they? Is he offended? Does he hear it? What does Crosby think about during the pregame ceremonies, anyhow? The complexity of his genius overwhelms us mere mortals. All we can do is stare at his face. 5 seconds. 10 seconds. The camera finally pans away.

Alfredsson stares tersely ahead. His eyes are glazed over. He is not here with us right now. I could scream in his ear and he wouldn't hear me. Chris Kelly sniffs, struggling to breathe, it seems, with a huge gash on his nose. No great loss -- there's a reason why we call him Horse-Face. Strangely, there is a patch of blonde on Emery's hair. A peroxide adventure?

I am cursing Emery as the Penguins score 53 seconds into the game. The almighty Gary Roberts grins as he bats in the goal in front of the Ottawa net. Ugh. I'm glad, weirdly, that I can feel so terrified and hysterical with no effect on the Senators -- whatever anxiety I have does not affect them.

McAmmond charges into the net, late in the first period, with a vengeance and is rewarded with a goal before Preissing is pushed into the net. It's dirty, it's filthy, it's what we need.

The Senators dominate play for much of the game. The puck is still sloppy as it moves from player to player -- not as crisp and clean as a discerning fan would like, but at least it's in our hands. The Penguins struggle for control of the puck, but don't put up much of a fight. A few dangerous rushes are contained. Comrie, with all of his midget fighting and buzzing around, tucks home the puck behind a sprawled Fleury. 2-1.

This isn't the type of series that allows you to relax with a one-goal lead. I consider it as good as a tie. The Penguins will rebound, I tell myself. They are resilient. They will get it back. Play as if we are tied. We do. The game starts to get a lot more violent , a precursor of events to come -- as Spezza tussles with (ex-?)mentor Gary Roberts, drawing a crowd, the ambitious Sidney Crosby scores on a terrible angle when the referees aren't looking. This would be hilarious if I weren't so terrified of the goal counting. Haha. Look at Crosby complain. What the fuck do you mean it doesn't count?

As in game 2, the Senators take full control in the second period. A power-play goal by Alfredsson nearly brings me to tears. He cares. I know he does. 3-1.

Then -- then, Eaves, bright blue eyes and an eager body, is crushed by Colby Armstrong around the net. He is sandwiched between two Penguins players and crumples to the ice, face-down and lifeless. The hit is clean. Although Eaves was pinned physically, he had his head down and Armstrong simply nailed him. It is borderline and clean in the same way that Neil nailed Chris Drury. Eaves is carried off on a stretcher, and I catch a glimpse of him stretching his fingers. Thank god.

Dean McAmmond, who I always thought of as the grandfather on the team, drops the gloves with Maxime Talbot as revenge. The playoffs has brought out the fearless enforcer in everywhere. Although Talbot gets a few good shots in at first, McAmmond is patient and out waits, outhits Talbot.

Colby Armstrong's face, meanwhile, is that of a fish. His mouth is open as he gulps air furiously, confused, straining to look at Eaves. I marvel at how young and boyish looking he is -- even Sidney Crosby, at 19, has the faint outlines of a moustache. Armstrong is still smooth. How can a kid like that manage to force Eaves to the ice like that? Don Cherry would say that he looks scared, but I think he's simply confused. You don't open your mouth that wide in fear.

Chris Neil chirps at the boys. It's obvious what is said. He is the enforcer. Play hockey. Let Neiler worry about retribution. He whispers something in Colby's ear on a later shift. Nothing arises.

Surely we can avenge Eaves, if not physically on Armstrong, on the scoreboard. Gather the troops. Forge a mentality. Avenge a fallen comrade! I've heard it bitterly said that the Penguins are a power-play unit. They finally get a chance towards the end of the period to use it and Cole warns the Pens sternly that to have any chance, they must score. Instead, it is Alfredsson who pops the puck past Fleury. He brings me to tears. 4-1.

Neiler, in between intermissions, tells us that he wants to catch the Penguins with their head down.

I'm not expecting the Senators to fall apart in the third period, I swear to gawd. Eaves is gone and the boys must keep this in mind. Alfredsson finally nails Roberts along the boards, sending the man with the greying beard to the ice. The Senators don't fall apart, not really, despite allowing one more goal. It is the result of Crosby simply overpowering Volchenkov, gaining one step ahead, and forcing the puck in on pure will. It is admirable. Malkin's sentiments are admirable as he attacks Phillips for, erm, doing a nice defensive job on Crosby, but what a kid like that thinks he's doing against a man like Phillips is fuzzy. It is also admirable how quickly the arena empties out after the Penguins waddle their way in their dressing room, as the Senators let out a sigh of relief and hug.

The Good
Daniel Alfredsson. This is the playoffs of his life. He dreamed about playing this way in '03, '04, '06. This is the way he should be and this is the way we like him. Hitting, scoring, killing power-plays, back-checking, disrupting the Penguins' sloppy pays. O Captain, my Captain.

Joe Corvo. He hasn't let up so far. Gaining the zone by himself, taking charge of our break-out. He's picked up the slack that Redden has let out, and shown himself to be an absolute force.

Dean McAmmond. He gets a Gordie Howe hat-trick: a goal, an assist and a fight. He wins all three.

Emery. He's not as good as the others on this list, but better than he was last time. After a terrible opening goal, he settled down and made some key saves. Beyond that, his numbers are still terrible and he has much to work on. Like stopping the first scoring chance. Learning how to do that tends to help your team.

The Bad
Christoph Schubert. The boarding was totally unnecessary.

Dany Heatley. He's either injured or overweight, because he's skating like Derian Hatcher out there. No hands, no feet. I'm still waiting for him to show up.

POSTGAME
The latest update on Eaves is that he has a concussion. Oleg "Paprika" Saprykin probably will get his chance to play.

I'm afraid to give the Senators too much credit. I'm afraid of going too high and then crashing down next game. So, for now, I imagine the Pittsburgh Penguins winning game 4 and what an awful feeling it evokes. Gary Roberts' grinning face, Sidney Crosby's wide lips.

We need game 4. We need that 3-1 lead. We need this series.

I am, however, incredibly interested to see what the reporters have to say about all this. Elliot Friedman sardonically called us "hysterical," describing us as jumping bridges and in mass hysteria in his interview with Chris Phillips. I was not hysterical. I did not jump any bridge. Even if I was hysterical, it wasn't for long. I feel his comments were in reaction to some of the Ottawa media, not actual fans. I'd love to see how the media feels about this tomorrow, and whether Alfie's heroics will warrant many words.

March of the Penguins: Part II, So It Goes

2007-04-15T14:48:00.000-04:00

God bless you, Mr. Vonnegut!

3.5 hours to game-time. Say a prayer for Kurt and the Senators.

Here's hoping that Emery brings his best game, Meszaros has the confidence to make the correct decisions, and Heatley finally shows up.

Thankfully, almost every other Eastern Conference playoff series is following our lead. We are all in knots at 1-1, except the Rangers vs the Hossas.

Pittsburgh will be rocking on the Sabbath.

Go Sens Go!

March of the Penguins: Part II

2007-04-14T18:08:00.000-04:00

GAME 2: Pittsburgh 4 at Ottawa 3
Series tied 1-1

GAME
The Senators had the chance to win this game. They were winning this game. Were. Until we got careless, until the Penguins felt alive again. It seemed like a game that we've seen before -- in the regular season against the Penguins, in the playoffs against everyone else. In the numbers, on the boards, in terms of chances, the Senators outplayed the Penguins. I'm sorely disappointed in Emery. He just wasn't good enough. 7 goals in 2 games -- win or lose, is unacceptable.

Good
Spezza. This was a better game for Jason. Fewer fancy passes and an amazing pass to hit Alfie for the 2-1 lead. He buzzed around all afternoon.

The last few moments of the third period. This version of the Senators, whether entirely different or not, does have one thing going for it: its play tends to be more even, when up and down. I'm reluctant to put this under good, since it is expected that a team down by a goal in the last few moments would scramble and dominate play.

Corvo. Wow can he ever gain the zone by himself.

We play again tomorrow. If there was a game in the series to lose, this game probably has the best timing. Exhausted though we will be, it leaves little time for typical Ottawa agony and handwringing. Let's go. Let's get going. Let's go into Pittsburgh already.

Bad
Comrie. Oh boy, it must have seemed like a good idea at the time. Show grit and tenacity and have the little midget fight. But his move sorely cost us -- 4-on-4 against the Penguins isn't a problem, but a 4-on-3 penalty kill is gambling. The call on Fisher was a bit fishy (I promise to never use that again), but Comrie's fight was pointless.

Emery. I don't care if he "had no chance." We need him to be better than this. The rebound he gave out to Roberts for the tying goal was brutal; he kicked it onto Roberts' stick. If we're going to chance, if we're going to shed our past truly and totally, Emery needs to be better. I don't know if he's capable. He was capable during the regular season, but how much he is able to raise his game is unseen. 21 shots. 4 goals. You surely can do better, Ray.

Meszaros. Well, this is the game I was expecting from him in the regular season. Poor, scrambly, unfocused, nervous. Pairing him with Redden, who seems to wince every time he gets hit, magnifies the unstability of the defense.

Power-play. Non-existent. Unacceptable. Shut-out. Nothing. The source of perpetual anger.

Heatley. Non-existent. Unacceptable. Shut-out. Nothing. The source of perpetual anger. God, Heater. It's not like he's being especially targeted by the Penguins. He needs to buckle up and show up.

Me. I'm sorry guys. I didn't follow what I did in game 1. It's all my fault.

This game was there for our taking. The Penguins weren't especially great. We were exceptionally terrible. We held the lead going into the third. We regained the lead in the third. Then poof, gone. We let a terrific chance just pass us by. The Senators cannot afford to let games like these go. We can't have the menality that a tied series is okay. This tied series means that the Senators let up, they let the third period of the second game go. It means we all fucked up. It means we're okay with not winning.

NEXT GAME
Ugh. If there's one thing the guys need to do on the ice tomorrow afternoon (if we practice), it's the power-play. Over and over again.

I had the feeling a while ago that we could give everything we had against the Pittsburgh Penguins and still not win. I just want them to give everything they have against us and still not win. For once, I'd like to be that team. I don't know who to pray to, what to sacrifice to let Emery be invincible, but I'd do it.

I'm just glad we get to play on the road and soon. Fatigue shouldn't be a major factor. The boys should be angry, they should be mad at themselves. They let this one go. We cannot afford another game like this. We need a total domination tomorrow, from Emery to Redden to Heatley.

March of the Penguins: Part I, Media Fall-out

2007-04-13T10:40:00.000-04:00

Let's start with the absurd. From Hugh Adami's latest story in the Ottawa Citizen: Don't boo Crosby.

Sid, the poor kid, really got it the other night at Scotiabank Place, where boo-birds were perched on every seat of the building, ready to squawk whenever he had the puck. Even when Crosby scored late in the third period, with victory already well out of sight for Pittsburgh, you might have thought that some Senators fans would have had the decency to cheer his first NHL playoff goal.

Are you kidding me? Why the hell would Sens fans cheer a Pittsburgh goal? It could have been scored by say, a quadriplegic cancer survivor and you wouldn't heard a single cheer. Admitted, maybe we wouldn't boo a quadriplegic cancer survivor but why the hell shouldn't we boo Sidney Crosby? He's the heart of the enemy and goddamn it, Adami, maybe Sens fans just want to win more than they want to coddle up to the Golden Boy. It's such an incredibly far fetched objection that I must wonder if Adami is just miffed that the media is now banned from all Senators' flights.

There was an end of an era last week: Ottawa newspaper writers were informed by the Senators they will no longer be able to buy seats on the club's charter flights through the playoffs and going forward into next year. It's the first time in 15 years the media won't be permitted to travel on the planes, but it's believed part of the reason the Senators made the move is they didn't like the criticism levelled at them in local newspapers. Hasn't GM John Muckler heard the saying "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?"

It's not that big of a deal. The Senators aren't really important enough, in the grand scheme of things, to warrant constant media access anyhow. It might keep distractions to a minimum and keep the boys focused. Granted, the motives behind this move stink of management trying to quell criticism. Still, it doesn't work because the team's faults and history isn't erased by this move. It's a good move for the team.

The boys are a tight, character bunch. Watch how Vermette excitedly jumped into Neil's arms after Neil's breakaway goal. Watch how A-Train throws himself in front of objects:

OTTAWA–The Senators' post-season marketing slogan is: Be Red.
That's not nearly colourful enough for defenceman Anton Volchenkov. His fearless shot blocking has broadened the spectrum considerably, adding a healthy dose of
black, blue, yellow and purple. Yes, lots of purple.
Volchenkov threw himself in front of a league-high 273 shots this season and there were times when his legs looked like the palette of a crazed artist as bruises formed on bruises, creating hues that hardly seemed human.
"Some of the blocked shots he has this year, would sting goalies even with the amount of equipment they have," says defensive partner Chris Phillips. "He comes in (to the dressing room), says look at this (bruise). Then he's right back out there. He's crazy. He's not all there. He just loves it. I think he's found his calling, or how he can help this team most ... by making plays like that, that make most guys cringe."

From the Toronto Star, of all places. We love you, Anton.

Lastly, if Hugh Adami isn't happy about Senators fans booing Crosby in Ottawa, he won't be happy about this:

The Ottawa Senators didn't seem to need the help of three apparent pranks promoting their team in Cole Harbour yesterday.

Cole Harbour Coun. Harry McInroy made one of the first sightings of something unusual at the corner of Cole Harbour Road and Caldwell Road on his way to a meeting around 8 a.m."That's where the Welcome to Cole Harbour sign is located," he said. "I saw some red material of some sort hanging below and over the corner of the sign and was puzzled as to what that might be."As he drove through the intersection, he looked over his shoulder to see a red banner with the words Go Sens Go written on it in white letters.
McInroy said he had a good idea why pranksters might target that sign."It's the location where it's our intention to replace that existing sign with one that says Welcome to Cole Harbour, Home of Sidney Crosby."

A feature piece from ESPN the magazine details the story of the Swift Current Broncos, and how they have dealt with the anniversary of the death of 4 players in a car accident and Graham James' history as a sexual predator. Gare Joyce writes:

It seems, though, that something more than "old-fashioned reserve" is in play. It's like the Broncos are a taboo subject. The Broncos are the biggest thing ever to come out of Swift Current, but down at the town museum, there's not a single mention of them. Plenty about wildlife, agriculture and business. Lots about sports, too. Photos of football and baseball teams from back in the 1920s and '30s, hockey sweaters from all sorts of teams. Yet there's not a mention of the Broncos, nothing about the team's most famous victories, let alone the four who died in the bus crash.

His criticism of the organization's handling of the situation has prompted a fierce reaction, from the Swift Current Broncos general manager and coach. Here, he defends the organization's handling of the anniversary:

"They know the history. We talk about it with the kids every year from the time they are drafted and come. They know what has gone on here, or the parents do. The plan to put the banner in was not a matter of doing it on the anniversary, it was a matter of doing it when the renovation is complete. That part, I don't know where he got that, because I told him plain and simple we are going to wait for the renovation and the board was totally supportive of that."As far as what more we could have done there is always going to be people that question that it wasn't a good time, it was a terrible time. We wanted to be subtle. We wanted to recognize it. The last thing that we wanted to do was bring in families to drum up what a terrible feeling that was. I was surprised at the angle he took."

Every single game 2 preview has mentioned this statistic: the Senators have never taken a 2-0 lead in franchise history. It is a telling, revealing statistic and all, but surely the sports reporters were being a little lazy. Here are some other statistics of relevance:

The Senators are 4-0 against Atlantic Division teams, in the first round. Including the Southeast Division, this would give the Ottawa Senators a 5-0 record in the first round against a non-Northeast opponent.

Fleury was yanked in 5 games this season. He has lost every game he started after those yanks.

In the end, they are just numbers. This is a different season. The Pittsburgh Penguins, at 3 pm tomorrow, will be much better than they were. They will calm down and reveal the team that won so much in the regular season. The Ottawa Senators, after years and years of wrangling and heartbreak, better be ready.

March of the Penguins: Part I

2007-04-12T19:50:00.000-04:00

GAME 1: PITTSBURGH 3 at OTTAWA 6
Ottawa Senators lead series 1-0

PREGAME
The enemy is all around. The adult video store still has their Leafs display in the window. The street is still named Crosby. Sparta still lost the Battle of Thermopylae. Nothing bodes well. My hands shake as I button up a blouse. It is attire appropriate for a job interview or a stuffy date, but the only other shirt is stained with the sweat of the terrible 5-1 loss to the Leafs that I witnessed live. Terrible omen. Leave it in the heap.

"You know," my friend says. "I told the people at work you were a Sens fan about a week ago. They're still not speaking to me."

GAME

My hand shakes as I reach for the remote. No elaborate viewing ceremony this year; I have outgrown the blanket I used to cover my eyes for the opposition's journeys into our end and Patrick Lalime's adventures in goaltending. I don't even have a cache of playoff chocolate ready, to soothe feelings in case things get rough.

I inspect the faces of the players during the pre-game ceremonies, searching for clues. Jordan Staal buries his face in his gloves. I wonder where his eyebrows went. His facial expression frowns, tenses -- is he on the verge of trembling tears? Perhaps he's thinking about how his brother did this. This is his turn. He has the Next One beside him and the Magnificent One above him. He should know how to do this.

But the Senators -- blessed gawd. Andrej Meszaros scores on a blast a few minutes into the game and I scream of pure joy, a sound I haven't heard since an unfortunate spring of last year. They are not nearly as tentative as I'd feared -- it is the Penguins who look uncertain and nervous. During the few times they have the puck in the first period, they are unable to do anything useful with it. Confused by the Senators' gritty down-low cycle, dazed and confused. Marc-Andre Fleury doesn't look much better. Two goals in, the Senators have a 2-0 lead but nothing is ever impenetrable.

The announcers, it seems, are wishful for a Penguins come-back. A while after Fleury surrenders the 2 goals, it is noted optimistically that he hasn't given up anymore. After the Senators fail to score on two 5-on-3 opportunities, the prediction that Pittsburgh will finally resonate with the energy of their penalty kill is enthusiastically made. It is promptly dropped, and never mentioned again, when the Senators kill off a succession of Penguin power-plays. This isn't their night.

During the second period, Crosby slides into Ray Emery, his left foot pushing the puck along the ice into the goal. It is a terrible, ugly way to get the puck across the net but a temporary moment of relief flashes on his face. His first. The referee, along with the rest of Scotiabank Place, isn't so sure. The goal is called off, leading Crosby to slump on a separate seat in the Penguins' bench, attended by trainers, looking desolate and desperate.

At the end of the third period, it is a cosmic sight to see Roberts, Recchi and Crosby sitting in a row on the Penguins bench, humped over and furiously trying to explain their situation, explain how to get out of it. I try to read their lips, imagine what they are saying. Cliche? Maybe. Inspiration comes best in small, memorable bytes. They point all over the ice, drawing invisible diagrams of plays that should work later. On Saturday. Not tonight. It isn't their night.

The Good
Physicality. The Senators physically dominated the Penguins. Evgeni Malkin was a complete non-factor; everytime he appeared on your TV screen, he was either being flattened by Anton Volchenkov or looking dazed after being flattened by Anton Volchenkov. The physical play was a complete team effort, from the forwards to the defense and back. The Penguins, despite the presence of Laraques and Roberts, seemed fazed by physical contact and surrendered the puck easily.

Mike Comrie. If Chara were still here, I bet he would have to reach down to give Comrie a high-five. Comrie was inspired with his physical play and his playmaking. He was all over the ice and was excited -- not nervous. When he tossed his gloves to challenge a Penguins player who messed with Corvo's helmet, I was terrified for his life, I will admit. Still, terrified and deeply impressed by his willingness to be physical in high-traffic areas and commit himself to the front of the net.

Joe Corvo. He has stars around his nipples and a sun on his bellybutton. Clearly not the most attuned taste, but at least his flamboyancy carries on the ice, as well. He was terrific in the break-out and had excellent judgement in jumping in pinching -- in one particularly play, he carried the puck up, by himself, from behind Emery to the Penguins' blueline. I am impressed.

Andrej Meszaros. Although not as outstanding as some other players, Meszaros deserves a mention for lifting his game dramatically for the playoffs. This is not the nervous, tentative Meszaros of the regular season. The role-reversal works. He hit and was much more supportive of Redden in the break-out than he's demonstrated in the regular season.

Daniel Alfredsson. My captain. He did it all on the penalty kill. He buzzed around all night and was as good as I've ever seen him in the playoffs; the determination with which he moved and hit all night made my heart a little warmer.

The Bad
Daniel Alfredsson not finishing his chances. He had enough shots and opportunities to score, really he did. Yet every shot he rattled off bounced off high or wide. To his credit, the majority of his chances were the result of his hard work in taking the puck away, only to streak down the ice with a defender screening him. He shot wide and hard at the little bit of Fleury he could see. Still, Alfie needs to finish.

Wasting two 5-on-3 opportunities. If it were any other situation, surely the Penguins would've burned us. There wasn't enough puck movement on the 5-on-3 or threat to Fleury.

Spezza, Heatley. Although they weren't held off the score-sheet, they were not the expected offensive leaders. I hope they aren't lost in the shuffle of physical play or dazed by 87, et al. -- this is the time of season to make a true legend. Forget the Art Ross, Heater. It's the Conn Smythe people for which you will/would be remembered.

Too many freaking penalties! This is round one. Presumably, we want to play other rounds. The Penguins spent nearly a period on the power-play, and to our penalty kill's credit, we killed off all but one 5-on-3 goal and a goal towards the end of the game when it didn't matter. Staying disciplined doesn't have to come at the cost of physicality. Some of the penalties we took were avoidable: Heatley's high sticking, Alfie's high sticking, Wade Redden's face-wash ...

Wade Redden. Wade Redden was not terrible, but in comparison to our other defensemen, he failed to raise his game. He might've been the worst defenseman out there in contrast. Besides a nifty pass to hit Neil with a breakaway, he just wasn't what we need him to be. The emotion that caused Comrie to drop his gloves clearly hasn't resonated with Redden ... yet.

CBC PP clock. The power-play bar completely disappeared after a stoppage in play during the power-play. In a game with so many power-plays, 5-on-3s, 4-on-4s, it was irritating not to see how much time was left. With all of CBC's fancy new graphics, they better figure it out soon.

POST-GAME
I was incredibly happy and buyoant for about an hour after the game; the elation doesn't wear off, but the anticipation of the next game approaches. I am proud of the boys: it's the most complete playoff effort in a while.

I notice how many hockey commercials have aired. Martin Brodeur declares that he can't be fooled, surely it's delivery pizza. Versus tells me that I should tune into watch the Penguins' Quest for the Cup. There is no mention of who they are up against.

NEXT GAME
By now, the statistic that Ottawa has never had a 2-0 series lead is in every preview of game 2. I can't argue with numbers, real or imaginary. Still, while it isn't devastating to be tied, surely this team has learned by now that we must seize on every opportunity we get. There is absolutely no leeway. The Penguins will be better, they will be less nervous, they will put up a fight. We must match their attitude and intensity.

I want a 2-0 series lead. I want all of America at 6 pm to know our names. I want Versus to at least mention our goddamn name in their commercial promoting the Penguins' playoff run. I want to win. I want to win so badly.

Pre-Game Jitters

2007-04-10T20:53:00.000-04:00

I fall asleep to the sounds of The Game 7.

"Hossa's had some chances here tonight ... Hossa ... shot ... Brodeur, shot, SCORE! VACLAV VARADA! There will be a game 7!" I turn it off just as we tie it at 2-2. I know what's coming.

I can't think about anything else, I can't concentrate, I can't even count. I make hockey analogies out of everything. I have to sit through a presentation on global warming today and they talk about the penguins in Antarctica and I get mad. I have to cross a street named Crosby and I get mad. Shuffling through my iPod, I can't stand to listen to my usual fare. Junior Boys, "In the Morning" comes on, and I think about the Penguins. Too young. I have to make the switch-over to my playoff mix. Feist, Foo Fighters. No bad karma here.

Then I see this in the newspaper and relax.

In other news, Volchenkov and Phillips have been signed! A-Train's deal is 3 years long, $2.1 mil, $2.2 mil and $3.2 mil each respective season. Phillips' deal is worth $3.5 mil/season for 4 seasons. Considering how consistent and solid they have been, their deals are huge steals (especially in comparison to Redden). A-Train's development has been astounding, in the regular season, at least. Phillips is probably the most reliable player in the playoffs. They will be relied on to neutralize 87* and be the defensive anchors of this team for the next several years.

* At this point, I won't even type out the word Crosby. You and your grandmother know who I'm talking about.

The Love Song of D. Alfredsson

2007-04-08T22:46:00.000-04:00

In the spirit and words of T. S. Eliot.

S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s'i'odo il vero,
Senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question . . .
Oh, do not ask, "What is it?"
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Stanley Cups won: zero.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Stanley Cups won: zero.

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?"
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair--
[They will say: "How his hair is growing thin!"]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin--
[They will say: "But how his arms and legs are thin!"]
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all:--
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all--
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all--
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
. . . . .
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? . . .

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

. . . . .

And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep . . . tired . . . or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet--and here's no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all"--
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: "That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all."

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor--
And this, and so much more?--
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
"That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all."

. . . . .

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous--
Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old . . .I grow old . . .
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

Avant le déluge

2007-04-08T01:24:00.000-04:00

I am so nervous about the playoffs right now I am shaking with insomnia and can't believe it's already here we are heading into the playoffs with this team and how much do we know of this team anyhow?

Things I am sure of:

* Habs' fans are tragically comic in defeat and victory
* Meszaros shouldn't have more than 10 minutes of icetime. He is a nervous wreck.
* Emery is the most confident goaltender we've had heading into the playoffs since 2002-3.

The thing that bothers me about playing Pittsburgh is that they do seem to be a Team of Destiny. Guided by voices, the hockey gawd's loving hand, instead of the Senators, scrambling for some signal in the dark. When a team is guided by voices, it leads them to do stuff like score the game winning goal with 9 seconds left and score beautifully on fewer shots. They have the glow of playoff virgins, exuberant and excited. At the end of the day, they have Crosby, an arena, and all is right with the world.

At the end of the day, the Senators have only the glint of a hope that they are not perennial losers; that whatever we were before, we are not now. If -- when -- this is taken away, nothing else matters. Management will lose their relevance and we'll do what we've done for the last two seasons: change the variables in a complicated equation and hope for the best.

I am in a sombre mood. I'm not quite ready yet to scream myself hoarse in front of the TV or methodically prepare my playoff kit yet. After a few playoff seasons, it becomes harder to peel away the doubts and anxieties. Yet listing them and symbolically purging them helps, whether it's just psychological preparation or a pre-emptive strike to protect feelings from absorbing the brunt of the hit.

So here we go, then.

PURGING - 2006-7

Murray can't coach. He'll fiddle around with the forward lines like this is a damn video game but never change the defensive pairings, even when Meszaros looks to be on the verge of tears. We will be screwed because of Meszaros' regression and Redden's incompetence. Redden, far from having a terrible regular season by his standards, will be a complete liability due to having lost confidence in himself. He will be able to make the first pass out, but he will avoid all physical contact and still play the 2-on-1 poorly. Heatley? Mr. 50? He will start missing more than usual. The high from scoring 50 goals this season will lead to a slump. Spezza's poor defensive habits will not be corrected in time, neither will they be compensated by his offensive talent -- mostly because he will be stifled by the other team's defense, and then lose interest. Alfredsson will do what he always does and pressure himself to the point where he can't relax and function on the ice. Emery just won't be good enough -- not hot enough, not clutch enough. Volchenkov will get injured and a hole will ravage our defense until we are in rags. We still can't play close games. We can cling on for dear life but we are never in control, never sure of ourselves.

I think I covered all the bases.

Go Sens Go.

Also, the PR department came up with the slogan "Be Red" for the playoff run. I cannot help thinking this is a promotion of communism.

April Snow Means Playoffs Are Coming

2007-04-05T23:39:00.000-04:00

3-2 PITTSBURGH over OTTAWA :'(
I get worried anytime the opponent:

* scores in the last few minutes of the game;
* gets outplayed but still manages to be clutch;
* is on the ice with Phillips in the penalty box;
* is a first-round probable match-up who may get home-ice;
* wins.

I get worried anytime the Senators:

* miss open nets;
* have great opportunities but don't put it in;
* outshoot a team;
* play;
* lose.

GREAT EXPECTATIONS?
I have absolutely no absolute expectations for this team.

The only thing is, I would be devastated if we went out in the first round. Beyond that, I would be extremely disappointed, but not devastated.

It's difficult to gauge how good this team really is: the first part of the regular season was very rough and the team underwent a turbulent metamorphisis to deal with Chara and Havlat's absence. And the way we play sometimes, it'll instill utter confidence only to shoot it all down the next day in a novel way.

STOP PASSING TO HEATLEY WHEN HE'S CLEARLY NOT OPEN
... and look at the Dany Heatley that lives on my desk! He's actually missing a tooth.

TRASH-TALK
Some nicknames I thought of for our probable playoff series vs Pittsburgh:

Sidney Crosby - STDney Crosby
Jordan Staal - Jordan Stool, Stool Sample
Evgeni Malkin - BFG (Big Friendly Giant)
Colby Armstrong - Colby Armweak
Ryan Malone - Hussy
Marc-Andre Fleury - Junkie

May the Hockey Gawds have mercy on my soul and on my Senators' luck.

You'll Never Walk Alone

2007-03-30T22:57:00.001-04:00

If you're a Sens fan and this doesn't make you cry, then you're suppressing your emotions too hard.

For the Sens fans, this is our closest equivalent of an anthem singing, a "You'll Never Walk Alone" rendition, something that sends chills down your spine and remind you of your ties in blood to this team.

Nothing like watching this over and over just to get into a playoff mode.

Wade of Mutilation

2007-03-28T22:24:00.000-04:00

SMART-ASS HOCKEY PLAYERS
Well, the Hockey News revealed the results of a league-wide player survey. In brackets are my comments and wild predictions at who said what.

Who is the best player in the NHL this season?
10) Erik Cole, Pavel Datsyuk, Rory Fitzpatrick [thank you!], Eric Goddard [...his mother?], Josh Green [.... his mother?], Jarome Iginla, Mike Modano, Ryan Miller, Brian Rolston and Henrik Zetterberg (1) 0.38%

Which of these under-22 players would you select as a foundation for you [sic] franchise?
5) Other -Dan Fritsche, Ryan Getzlaf [Ryan Getzlaf], Karl [sic] Lehtonen [Kari Lehtonen?],

Mike Richards [Jeff Carter?]

On this point, "anonymous" said in the comments:

Despite the Flyers publicity of Richards and Carter being the face of the
franchise and bestest of friends, they've stopped living togther, and
knowledgeable sources say that not all is peachy keen in Philly! If anything,
Ben Eager'd be Richards' new BFF, while Potulny and Carter have now shacked up
together. ;)

You heard it here first, folks.

What’s the best thing about your job?
9) Women (5) 2%
10) Naps (3) 1.2%
...15) Trainers (1) 0.4%
16) Video Coach, Steve Summers (1) 0.4%

Who the hell is Steve Summers? Glad you asked. If I have the correct Steve Summers, he works for the radio station WFAN and covers the Rangers. Someone's ego is growing ...

What’s the worst thing about your job?
11) Working out (3) 1.2%
12) Backchecking (2) 0.81% [Hi Jason]
13) Back-to-back games (2) 0.81%
14) Protein shakes, watching video, late nights [Chris Chelios?], filling out forms [? ....] , fighting [This better not be Neiler], autographs, missed childhood, girls [.... this only works if you're asexual ..... Crosby?], money [... thank you Captain Sarcasm], Cam Janssen [Hi Tomas], getting yelled at [Pothier?], pre-game skate, coaches and being booed [Alfie?] (1) 0.4%
Finally,

To what city would you least like to be traded?
1) Buffalo Sabres (40) 16%

Just saying.

WADE OF MUTILATION
Wade Redden, battling a groin injury all year, sat out last night against the Boston Bruins. The Senators lost 3-2. Coincidence?

Among the overwhelming evidence that Wade Redden, as weak as he may be some nights, does something incomprehensible to this team. He just makes us better.

With him, the Senators are 39-13-7. Without him, we are a miserable 6-11-1.

With his inconsistency this year, his play simply hasn't warranted his paycheck. But even his detractors must admit that the Senators, without Redden, are a different, less precise team. Should we lose him this off-season through trade, I'm preparing myself to see a Senators team in shambles for much of early next season. Perhaps we'll adjust, after a third of the season.

PENGUINS VS DEVILS
No, this isn't some grotesque fight in the animal kingdom between a penguin and a Tasmanian devil. It is the ongoing battle to see which team Ottawa will face in the first round. Currently, the Penguins are battling the Devils for the Atlantic Division lead. Should the Penguins take it, they become the no. 2 seed and the Senators will play New Jersey.

As scary as those Joysey bastards are, with their 3 Cups of experience and a robot named Martin Brodeur, I think it's time to face them again. Call it a necessary exorcism, if you will, to release those old ghosts and doubts and fears of this team. I need not remind you what happened in 2002-2003. The Senators need not be reminded. New Jersey is a team that you do not fuck around with and rest assured, I don't think the Senators will fuck around with New Jersey. The Devils present a formidable first round opponent. Should we beat them, the confidence gained will be invaluable.

The problem with playing Pittsburgh is that they have no pressure exerted on them by the media or fans. They are intrisincally driven, at least I think Sidney Crosby is, to simply win and have fun while doing it. I don't think it is a significant factor as it may sound, since they still have issues on defense and experience as a team in the playoffs. However -- the media will seize upon Sidney Crosby's halo and ram it down our fucking throats for the duration of the series. Do I sound bitter against Crosby? I am not. In fact, it would be to the Senators' advantage to have Crosby soak up the media spotlight. In my hardened experience, I have learned that the Senators are a team best well kept dark frm the reaches of the media. Talk to Sid. Leave us alone.

HOME-ICE ADVANTAGE
As strategically advantageous as it would be to have the Senators play on the road, with minimum pressure, in their opening round, from empirical analysis, it is rare for a 5th seed to go very far. Granted, you say Calgary and Edmonton, but I say losers.

We aren't going to catch Buffalo. Wade Redden is so puzzlingly crucial to our team that he definitely needs the rest for his groin, but I see no reason why the Pizza Boys would need extra rest. We need home-ice.

Gary Roberts: Acid Test

2007-03-21T20:02:00.000-04:00

Questions to ponder as the season drives to a close:

Why have the Senators made so many enemies this season?

Montréal isn't too pleased with us, for what Emery did.

Buffalo doesn't like us very much, for what Neil did and the general chaos and scruffle that ensued.

Pittsburgh doesn't like us very much because our coach, ironically, yelled at Crosby to keep his language clean. I've also developed a severe distaste for Pittsburgh after all the Gary Roberts hoopla, Sidney Crosby hoopla and you know, losing to them in damned shoot-outs.

Why, just last night, Murray blithely said that the goal St. Louis scored shouldn't have been a goal, even when it was quite obvious that the referees had screwed up. If St. Louis had more fans, maybe we'd hear more about it.

Point is, we didn't cultivate nearly as much controversy last season, or the season prior. Empirically, I don't think we're significantly more physical this season. So, what is this an indication of? We have an overly talkative coach? Are we much more emotional, hence driven to react rashly instead of acting rationally?

Statistically, we may have been due. The last major bench clearing brawl I recall is that infamous game vs Philly in 03-04, but that's a lifetime ago.

Do teams of destiny exist?

If they do, the Pittsburgh Penguins are it. The stars aligned, David won, they have their team.

They may not be ready now. But one look at Sidney Crosby and I can't imagine him going without a Cup for long.

How far are we going to go?

Screw predictions. I just want to see the Senators out there, lusting for blood (figuratively). Ask Julius Caesar. He knows what I'm talking about.

What was wrong with the prior Ottawa Senators?

Two prevalent theories exist to explain prior phenomenon: goaltending or veteran leadership.

Let's operate on the goaltending premise. This theory asserts that the Senators have never received adequate goaltending. How do we explain the lack of offensive prowess in several key games, notably a winless record in game 7s, then?

Well, a team, no matter how offensively gifted, needs to play with the confidence that goaltending will give them a chance to win. However, the Senators have never had a goaltender to demonstrate playoff-adequate consistency in goaltending. With the intuitive knowledge that the goaltending situation is terrible, with Martin Brodeur at the other end, it is understandable that this adds extra pressure onto the offensive corps. Therefore, every goal scored for calls for a little bit of tentative anxiety, as players unconsciously or consciously ponder if the lead will last. Every goal against chips away at the team's confidence in the goaltending. Eventually, the team does not have the least bit of trust in their goaltending, and so, starts on a terrible disintegration.

I believe the 05-06 series vs the Buffalo Sabres is best explained by this theory. Firstly, the Senators had to head into the playoffs knowing that their usual number 1 goaltender would not be available. Secondly, although Emery played decent in the first round series, he was a mere rookie. An unknown. His inexperience became clear in the massive orgy of goals that was game 1. Not only was it a weak goal, it was in overtime. The team, initially suspicious of Emery's rookie qualifications for the playoffs, had their doubts proven correct as Emery completely fell apart. This decline, coupled with the opposing goaltender, Miller's steadily improving play, cast a massive crack into the confidence of the team. Although Emery would be decent for the rest of the series, his inability to make a save in overtime, especially, caused the team's confidence in him to deflate. Then, we crumbled.

But what about leadership, you protest. Surely a team is able to get over a blow-out situation, even in the playoffs. Veteran leadership. You know, grizzled beards, lost teeth, black eyes and all those heroic, Don Cherry-promoted myths. That would be the alternate theory on the Ottawa Senators' hamartia: leadership.

This theory operates on the premise that the Senators have always had adequate talent in all departments, but were lacking the right gritty, grizzled playoff veteran who would steady the team when things got rough. The team has always had the right pieces, but unfortunately, they also have the mental toughness of a soft, puffy cloud. The repeated, unexplainable losses to the Maple Leafs only serve to strengthen the notion that while our players have talent, there is a problem of attitude and culture within the hockey team: not enough players willing to play as a team, to make the sacrifices necessary to win. If they really wanted it, then they'd play harder. If they really wanted it, they wouldn't just give up and crumble.

While this theory need not blame our current leaders, i.e. Alfie, it really emphasizes the inadequacy and losing nature of their current playoff experience.

Case in point: 05-06 vs Buffalo, 03-04 vs Toronto, etc. etc. The only exception I can think of is 02-03 vs New Jersey, in which Our Heroes mounted a 3-1 (almost) comeback to play in a game 7, only to lose in the last 2:14. Even then, this theory would tsk tsk at the mental fragility of a team that allowed a goal in the last 2:14. Perhaps Gary Roberts or a Joe-Nieuwendyk-figure could've calmed the bench down, and Redden, Rachunek and Havlat wouldn't have collectively screwed up.

Of course, these two theories are not mutually exclusive. However, the only major arguments arise when we deal with the prickly issue of Gary Roberts: operating from the leadership theory, not getting Gary Roberts was an irredeemable failure worthy of Muckler's firing. He may have epitomized the leadership qualities needed, and surely worth a 1st round pick. The goaltending theory subscribers, meanwhile, go for days worrying about Emery's wrist, and his decline since his suspension.

Personally, I lean more towards the goaltending theory than the leadership theory, although neither can be completely discredited.

This playoff run won't give us all the answers. However, facing Pittsburgh in the first round will provide plenty of fodder for leadership-theory-subscribers as we face off against a young team that did think Gary Roberts was worth it. If Emery doesn't perform well though, I may slip into a deep, clinical depression.

Blog On Shuffle, Part Deux

2007-03-15T01:26:00.000-04:00

CONTINUING HWTUA'S FINE TRADITION OF SMUT..

I generously present to you, the Calgary Flames.

Trashy!

Found on HFBoards. Apparently, they are in the locker room of a strip club. Stickers not visible in this resized imagee: "I (heart) tits," "I love Alberta beef," and "I <3 blowjobs". Isn't smoking bad for you?

LEAFS? PLAYOFFS?

I hope the Toronto Maple Leafs don't make the playoffs.

Even with the persuasive argument that no Stanley Cup run would be complete without running over our most consistently hated arch-rival, I cannot, in anyway support the Maple Leafs squeaking into the playoffs.

It's not the Leaf fans. Though they grow insufferable as spring nears and some meek possibility exists of Stanley parading down Yonge Street, though the assholes come out in abundance once game 1 starts, though they grow increasingly hostile, violent and aggressive -- I can deal with that. I can deal with catcalls as I walk down the halls, I can be booed.

It's not even their bloody team. I'm not afraid of facing them in the playoffs.

It's just that I can't miss a Senators playoff game.

If the Maple Leafs go into the playoffs, my chances of seeing the Senators' series grow anorexically thin. Playoff broadcasting is arranged so that the CBC has rights to all the Canadian teams' playoff runs, and since most playoff scheduling has alternating series' each night, it's highly possible that the Senators will play on the same night as the Leafs. I know who's going to win that war. Argh, my darling Senators, I won't be able to receive the signals that detail your latest tribulation ...

If I have to watch the Leafs' playoff series while the Senators are playing, I'm going to piss on that Leafs logo outside the ACC. I'm serious. I know it's not your fault, Leaf fans, but ... it kind of is. Stop existing.

God, I should just move to Ottawa for the next two months.

PENGUINS

Part One

I bought a toy, stuffed penguin and named it Sidney, way before the Senators were a virtual lock to play the Penguins in the first round. What should I do? Throw it out? Rename it? Burn it?

Part Deux

Something that I keep thinking about is how the center of gravity in the league has shifted away from Detroit, Colorado, New Jersey, the old-time, reliable semi-dynasty winners onto Pittsburgh. Crosby, Malkin, Staal, Fleury hold in their young, nubile bodies, the future of this league and the game. When we look back on the current era, it is the rise of Pittsburgh that will be detailed, like how other franchises may have existed in the '80s but it is inevitably the rising of New York and Edmonton that we remember, intuitively. I am jealous.

LOVE

Something to think about as playoff predictions are being made:

Love is long-suffering and kind. Love is not jealous, it does not brag, does not get puffed up, does not behave indecently, does not look for its best interests, does not become provoked. It does not keep account of the injury. It does not rejoice over unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Love never fails.

But whether there are [gifts of] prophesying, they will be done away with; whether there are tongues, they will cease; whether there is knowledge, it will be done away with. For we have partial knowledge and we prophesy partially, but when that which is complete arrives, that which is partial will be done away with. -- 1 Corinthians, 13:4

OBSERVATIONS

Part One

New theory on puck bunnies: Maybe they don't want to really sleep with the players. Maybe they want to be them.

Part Two

The most used label on this blog is "anxiety." I don't write when I'm happy about the Sens. I write when the world is ending.

RECENT FORTUNES

Shall I worry about holding onto leads?

I shall not.

Shall I worry about Redden and Meszaros?

I shall not.

Shall I worry about Spezza's turnovers?

I shall not.

Shall I worry about Emery?

I shall! I shall!

As long as Emery puts together a complete effort, this team is capable of pulling themselves together, whether they are up or down by two goals. Emery is the tipping point, so much so that as long as he is ready, we will be fine.

It's Deja Vu ... All Over Again

2007-03-06T22:19:00.000-05:00

Pittsburgh 5, Senators 4 [SO]

We haven't played 3 actual games in our past 3 "games."

We've played the same game, 3 different times. Score, get a cushiony lead, get complacent, then rattle and completely breakdown at any hint of a come-back. Atlanta, Chicago, Pittsburgh have all been the recipients of 2 generous points given by the Senators.

The hallmarks of this slump: inadequate goaltending, inability to hold a lead, poor power-play and 5-on-3 execution are the exact same traits of the Great Depression earlier this season. Maybe it'll stop now that they've squandered some very necessary points against a highly likely first-round match-up, maybe it'll just keep going.

There are many, many other factors that are in play, namely consistent effort and impotence in the shootout. But the most glaring difference between our current mini-slump and back when we swept Carolina is the play of Ray Emery. Since his suspension, his play has gone consistently downhill. He was devastatingly poor vs Buffalo, started to gain momentum against Carolina (although they didn't really try) but completely collapsed in his next couple of starts.

I would trade shootout-savviness for goaltending; I would trade consistent power-play execution for goaltending. We need the old Emery back.

Unless Emery can find his old stride -- unless Emery can suddenly revert to his old level of play -- we are in deep, deep trouble heading into the postseason. I still don't trust in Murray's abilities -- though I haven't checked, I'm pretty sure he didn't bother to call a time-out any of the times that the other team started mounting their comebacks.

I can't even call this choking. Choking is when there is actual pressure to win. We did the same thing against Chicago, and they were barely pressing until we gave them the chance.

Call me hyperbolic, but this could be the most devastating loss of the season thus far. We blew a 4-1 lead to a team that we might face in the playoffs -- a team that is breathing down our necks in the standings, battling us for home-ice advantage.

Also noted was the irony in Roberts scoring the tying goal. I still have faith that like we pulled ourselves out of the Great Depression, so can we recover from this, with or without Roberts.

I really, really love this team. We know how to do it, we just won't. We squander a 5-on-3, lollydaddle on too many power-plays, then can't score in a shoot-out. At least our losses keep me glued until the very end. Losing three consecutive games after having the lead after the 2nd period seems statistically impossible, yet there we are, defying the numbers. What a charmingly capricious team.

On Gary Roberts & Lent

2007-03-04T18:28:00.000-05:00

We didn't get him.

We don't need him, although I wanted him.

What would Roberts have provided to this team?

Stability? Grit? After a rocky start to the season, and the loss of many fans' confidence, the Senators rebuilt themselves and have proceeded on a torrid pace since then. Our goalie had his coming out party against various players' visors and faces, his eyes containing a tidal wave even while he punched out a goalie and an enforcer. We've come back from deficits in the third period, we've come back from 2-goal deficits in the third period. We do not collapse, we do not shut down. Our nerves are steadier than they have ever been. (.. except our recent trend into collapsing and panicking with the lead against inferior teams in the third period, a trend that I hope to god stops now.)

Self-sacrifice? Volchenkov leads the league in blocked shots. Anton blocks shots with his face. Neil has no hesitation in laying out hits night after night.

Gary Roberts, no matter how many times you can see him scoring on Patrick Lalime in a looped film in your head, is not the Magic Playoff Bullet. We have been waiting for a magic player to fix all our playoff issues; all the while our own core players have accrued valuable experience. We are it. Roberts would have been nice to further ensure the attitude and focus on this team, but he's not needed. If this team has learned anything at all from the last 5 years -- for example, don't panic, he is not needed. He will not be the difference between another early exit and a Stanley Cup.

Also, I’m giving up the Senators for Lent. Sunday games are alright, but I’m giving up: blogging on specific games, web-streams, sports radio, newspapers, YouTube and obsessively checking specific hockey forums. I'm allowing myself 5 minutes daily to browse through the boxscores, should I desperately need to know. This ends the 8th of April. I’m not Catholic, but I’m trying out this idea because I felt myself getting burnt out. Hopefully I’m refreshed and ready for the playoffs. Meanwhile, I still plan to blog, but items of discussion won’t include much game summaries (not like I did much of them, anyway). There are a couple of more short fiction pieces I’m experimenting with, and god forbid, more poetry.

distance

2007-02-27T19:42:00.000-05:00

vs Buffalo, 22 & 24 February

my heart hums to the song
of a lover i have never met
my mouth moves to the rhythm
of some past life
my hands tangle
in knots Alexander's sword could not unravel
my eyes, which have seen the mermaids' singing, spin

contain
the soft beginnings of another universe
where these human abstractions
loyaltyjusticerevengefairnesshumility
crumble under the weight
of themselves saying

i'm not sure you understand
being the sum of three, four, eightyseven dimensions
one of which reduces all good intentions

into the fine dust of butterfly wings &
stick shavings
so

try as we might,
we still can't get by, get by
on instinct and charm

SCANDAL!

2007-02-12T19:34:00.001-05:00

Emery has been given a 3-game suspension for his stickwork against Maxim Lapierre on Saturday's game. I was expecting a suspension, but 3 games seems excessive, given Emery's intention and what actually happened. In my opinion, Emery was not aiming for Lapierre's head. The falling action of both players threw off Emery's aiming at lower regions. I am not excusing Emery's hotheaded action, neither am I condoning slashes to the head. They must be punished, but 3 games is excessive considering that it wasn't Emery's intention, Emery has no previous record and Lapierre was not injured.

Still, I think this would be a good time for Emery to calm down, recuperate from his wrist injury and reflect on his attitude. He has a notorious reputation for rage and as much as it threatens to overwhelm him, this was not the right way to express it.

This isn't seen on the video, but the way Emery threw down his stick and tugged at his gloves, his eyes blazing with cold contempt, like a threatened animal, sends shivers down my spine. The intensity of his body language indicates that he spends a lot of energy keeping a still exterior, just a relatively calm exterior. I am scared. I am in awe.

To Gerber's hands our hopes against Florida, Edmonton and Atlanta now lie. This is his chance to shine and if he has any competitive pride or self-respect left, he will be damn fine.

-

Now, in continuing HWTUA's standards in bringing you quality smut, I present:

Circa lockout year, Binghamton. Schubert: gay, drunk, bi-curious or friendly? Who is that with him?

Somebody

2007-02-12T07:00:00.000-05:00

I think I have progressed to a point in my fandom where the highs and lows of the season no longer jilt me like they used to. Threats of pure panic still flash through occasionally (i.e. the loss to Buffalo), but they are momentary and are easily soothed away. This isn't indifference. I have come to realize that 82 games is a long, long time and after a while of watching the Senators, the games that are meaningful are obvious and the rest fall away in a clutter of old boxscores.

Meaningful games aren't just number-chasing. They usually have one thing in common: they were completely unexpected. From the situation to the outcome, meaningful games are usually last gasps of desperation or the last exhalation of overachievement. For the Senators, the one game that will be marked this way is the November 15th encounter against the Buffalo Sabres, a win of 4-2.

In numbers:

Before Buffalo, 6-10-1 (first 17)
After Buffalo, 25-12-2 (next 39)

Numbers aren't to be entirely trusted. In leading up to the game, the Senators felt worse than their record indicates. Most losses were wins that had slipped out of control during the third period; we chased away the opponent's starting goalie ... and still lost. The defensive capabilities of the team were widely questioned with the absence of Chara and the team had about as much chemistry and cohesion as a wet piece of toilet paper. It was horrid. (How horrid? TSN power-rankings in the 25-30 spot horrid.) They just weren't the Senators I remembered or knew. They weren't even vaguely familiar. The losing, I could stand -- the character change, the personality change, I could not tolerate. We are not fragile. We are not lazy lovers, expecting all of the pleasure for none of the work.

But in some part of the team's psyche, the team that was proclaimed The Best Team Ever (tm) still remained. The backbone of the team was still there. The memory of the team who was utterly humiliated by a younger, creepier version of themselves the previous playoff year was working, in tact and utterly fuming. The Senators knew, knew that if they had any bits of strength and courage left in them they had to, had to beat the Sabres. And they did.

It's not just the story of a team that had to win -- so they did -- but also the expectations involved. The Senators were expected to need time to gel -- but not descend to the level of utter incompetence. Their chemistry and chemistry were supposed to remain somewhat in-tact and in the first part of the season, it didn't. Most impartial observers (and some weeping Sens fans), by the end of October, had concluded that the Senators' window of opportunity was over. They could still limp by, maybe a little, on charm and talent, but a team that never had "heart" when it had more talent couldn't possibly be expected to beat a team not named the Pittsburgh Penguins. The Buffalo Sabres, keep in mind, were the new darlings of the league at this time, the favourites of pundits and mouthpieces everywhere. Nobody could forget the image of Pominville dekeing out Daniel Alfredsson to tuck inside a series-winning, short-handed goal.

So, faced in a situation that wasn't expected, against a team that they weren't expected to win against, the Senators pulled themselves together and made the game easier again. The ache in my heart dulled and I smiled in the most genuine, spontaneous way I had for months.

I didn't want to write about it in here because I thought ... I thought, I felt, as I was watching it, that it would be a Meaningful Game, for the better. It wasn't something I wanted to capture in words at the time, because it was just a feeling and sometimes, sometimes in my hockey fandom I have fleeting feelings, like being carressed by dust, a feeling so elusive that attempting to capture it in words would be like scraping away at butterflies with nets. I am not a psychic and these are not predictions but you must, you must have felt it too, at some point.

From the bursting smiles and the tightly wound hugs after the game, I know the Senators felt it -- the relief of finding out, after a schizophrenia frenzy of third period collapses, blow-outs, shut-outs, shoot-out losses, that we are still somebody.

Still Rayzor

2007-02-11T13:51:00.000-05:00

That is all.

Montréal t'es tellement froide

2007-02-09T23:27:00.000-05:00

The Senators scored 4, the Canadiens scored 1, and the panic subsides on this side of the Ottawa River, anyhow. The Canadiens were never really in the game and the Senators seem to have shaken off the rust from last night and were fairly sharp. Heater and Spezza were reunited and produced. I still think that they are better apart, and that their lovely chemistry should only be reserved for desperate situations. At the same time, is their chemistry the sort of thing that is irregardess of time, place and familiarity or do they need time to develop it?

We went a disappointing 1/8 on the power-play, but at least shut them out on the penalty kill.

Comrie played under 10 minutes, with no power-play time. He's either nursing an injury or he did whatever Vermette did to Murray.

I'm always amazed at how the Habs fans overreact to everything, and the constant end of the world mentality they have. It puts my own bipolar tendencies into perspective.

We travel to Montréal tomorrow to take them on again.

Tension Rising, Rising!

2007-02-07T22:28:00.000-05:00

Is this team emotionally bankrupt, plain lazy, going through the start of a slump or just adjusting to the return of Spezza?

None of the four are pretty options, with the way the Leafs, Hurricanes, and former basement dwellers are now within 3 pts of the Senators' coveted playoff spot. To tell you how tight the Eastern Conference is: the Senators are a single point out of 4th, and only 3 pts out of a playoff spot.

The game tonight against the Sabres should've been more exciting and hard-fought than it was. While the Senators were never completely out of the game, they were never fully in it. Rather than initiate and set a tone, they responded and reacted to the Sabres -- in goals and in physical play. This was the epitome of a half-assed -- no, maybe three-quarters-assed effort. The Senators had some glorious chances, but the numbers of shots that went wide and just completely missed the net were astounding, especially by one Chris Neil (Monster Performer, apparently).

The Sabres didn't have to be spectacular to score. Volchenkov gift-wrapped their first goal, the forwards forgot there was another end of the ice on the second, and Redden took an ill-timed, lazy penalty on the winning goal.

The Senators were outworked. Not by much, but we executed with no intensity.

It's not enough to be worried, especially for a game against an opponent that desperately needed it, but if the Senators can't come up with something better against the Habs tomorrow -- I will panic. This team reminds me of the team I saw in October. As a shortsighted, bipolar fan, I will panic good.

Weekend

2007-02-05T20:53:00.000-05:00

In a cab:

Cabbie: "... Please don't tell me you're a Sens fan."

[Silence]

Cabbie: "You know who else is a Sens fan. Don Cherry."

Me: "What? No way! He's a Leafs fan! The man kissed Doug Gilmour!"

Cabbie: "Ahh .. everyone kisses Dougie. He's gay."

Sex, Poker & Sidney Crosby

2007-01-26T21:04:00.001-05:00

ON THE NHL POKER TOURNEY

Sheldon Souray is a terrible poker player; Texas Hold 'Em is not a game you play with impatience, boredom & bad luck

Mike Cammalleri is a psychic. He called for more than one card he needed on the river, and got them

I forget which player it was because it was obscenely late and I wasn't entirely cognitive, but someone wore a semi-pornographic T-shirt I'm surprised they showed -- it was of a print of a naked woman, not blurry on details by any means

I was disappointed with Martin Brodeur's poor showing. It ruined my fantasies of him being good at everything.

McCabe was probably the most conservative player that I saw, which is surprising considering his flippance towards defense on the ice.

A TERRIBLE SURPRISE

One of the most terrible surprises in my inbox ... an email from the Toronto Maple Leafs asking me to purchase a "limited number of single seat tickets" that have now just opened up. I have to remember to unsubscribe from the mailing list of losers they put me on, when I bought tickets last year ...

ON SIDNEY CROSBY

And Sidney might get kicked out of a bar in Texas (via The Sidney Crosby Show), but I'd go drinking any time with him ... in Montreal. I can't imagine him holding his liquor well. I kind of have this urge to drug him up or get him really drunk and finally let down that media-friendly face he has on all the time. He's not that much older than me and I'm really interested to see how mature he really is, in comparison.

I also had a dream that I was Sidney Crosby thinking I was Wayne Gretzky.

Some people might decry Sidney Crosby's perpetual grace and calm in front of the press as boring, but that's why you will remember Sidney Crosby in the same breath as Michael Jordan, Tiger Woods, David Beckham and Wayne Gretzky. None of them are remembered for their vibrant personalities: they are all representatives of their game because they are suitably bland. People are free to draw from their lives as they wish, colour them as courageous role models or boring people who spent their entire lives playing a silly game. They are blank enough for people to see what they wish to see . (In Beckham's case, that might include a bisexual, sexy beast.)

This is one situation where Ovechkin's infectious personality works against him. He will not be remembered in the same way as Wayne Gretzky, even if he manages to more or less be the Wayne Gretzky of the modern era.

ON CONTACT SPORTS

It's a hyper masculine sports world, we know. On some level, all sports are a place for men to explore each other's bodies without being labeled as gay or stigmatized. There are dark, sexual undertones about the way physical contact is so hard and intimate in hockey, particularly. On a subconscious level, I think this is why puck bunnies are such a voracious bunch of groupies -- the hitting in the game is practically an audition into their bedrooms. If a player is willing to bring such passion into making brief physically contact with another man, what might he be willing to do to you?

Men are the hegemony in sports; this much is true. There still remains something stubbornly impenetrable, resistant to understanding among sports -- say, why bragging about fucking women proves your sexual prowess to men who see your penis everyday anyway, why fuck groupies, why risk a marriage just for a quickie on the road, why get married if you know you will cheat on the road, anyway. Perhaps all that "fast-food sex" mentality stuff is really just a subliminal response to the uncomfortable nature of being in an industry that is, at its heart, profoundly homoerotic.

"New Jersey of the West"

2007-01-19T17:49:00.000-05:00

This is an entire
entry written in haiku.
Lost to Vancouver, 2-1.

Luongo was better:
North Star on skates. Perpetual.
Heatley missed on breakaway.

Spezza come back, now.
Another team centered on
goaltending. Like New Jersey?

Murray: they are "New
Jersey of the West," and trap
Luongo is Brodeur. Say,

0 shots on goal in
third period, while leading 2-1 --
not a fearless team.

Rory Fitzpatrick,
("Vote Rory") had winning goal.
It was soft like dust.

Power-play failed 5
tries. All-star Break is coming.
Heatley in Dallas.

Fisher'll be better.
Emery wants to go tubing?
Hurt goalie is pain.

Scenes from a Memory

2007-01-15T20:24:00.000-05:00

No, I am not going the way of Hockey Country. Now who will I depend on for game summaries? ...

SCENE & HEARD DURING THE SENATORS' 8-3 VICTORY OVER SOME TEAM IN MONTREAL
I thought I'd try something new. Chances are, you've seen/read/heard the game by now, so here are some of my rough notes from the game:

2:00 pm: Everyone wants to leave Edmonton. Sooner or later. It's in the water.
2:01 pm: MSTRKRFT's "Easy Love" is not about a booty-call .. unless your booty-calls involve food
2:05 pm: Who's that boy giving the Senators props when they come out of the dressing room and how can I be one?
2:06 pm: Habs fan in the stands looking like a raccoon. Easy on the liner, sweetheart.
2:08 pm: Are we just being loud in the Sc'ank to counteract those Habs fans?
2:10 pm: 44, 37, 14, 6, 5 on the ice to start. Remember Emery on OTR talking about "that German guy on our team."
2:11 pm: Ole ole my ass. Announcer going on and on about Lloydminster. I love Wade too, but this is not what I tuned in for.
2:12 pm: Less talking, more commentary please. Sens on heels. Emery with 2 good saves off Habs' 4th liners' rushes.
2:16 pm: Damn, I forgot we're historically bad at afternoon games.
2:17 pm: Never mind! Wade Redden scores off a nice play by Alfie. Huge gap left for him in the middle of the ice by Montreal. Thank you.
2:21 pm: Ray, let's not pass to the Habs.
2:23 pm: How many off-sides are they going for here?
2:24 pm: (illegible -- 89 Comrie?) tries for a slapshot at the Habs' blueline ... okay. Huet's not Tommy Salo.
2:30 pm: Whose idea was it to interview people, no matter how dedicated, honest or interesting, when AV20's on the ice? AV20 scores and you talked through it!
2:32 pm: Montreal PP. Interference. Goddamn.
2:34 pm: Philly with a good blocked shot. Laid down hard. That's my boy.
2:38 pm: Memories of the Rangers came flashing back. DO NOT GET COMPLACENT. Let's go for double-digits.
2:39 pm: Yay! 90! 11 to 15 to 89. Even though 42 was there and nobody wanted to pass to him ...
2:41 pm: Another PP, same squad. 11, 42, 89, 15, 6.
2:42 pm: AV20 hits Schaefer. Man. What'd he do, Antoine?
2:43 pm: 15 shot, 11 rebound --> GOAL.
2:44 pm: DO NOT GET COMPLACENT.
3:07 pm: Corvo draws a hooking penalty. 2/2! 2/2!
3:08 pm: 3/3!
3:10 pm: Mtl fans with grocery bags. Jerseys backwards. Committed fans, I must say.
3:10 pm: Alfie to Kelly on rush. Huet's out.
3:10 pm: 6-0? Double digits? Swarm of red. Thank you Sheldon Souray. McG's efforts to dangle not bad.
3:11 pm: GET THE GOAL BACK!
3:14 pm: Nooooo.
3:17 pm: Emery's rebounds are all towards the middle of the ice.

Then, after the game was out of reach, I went and ate a sandwich.

FACES
Normally when Sidney Crosby does interviews, his expression is blank and focused. When Sidney Crosby does interviews about the WJHC, his face lights up into a genuine smile that revealed more about his pure love for the game than any ridiculous goal ever could.

And enough with the "rumours" about him being gay (thank you, Hlog), or sordid interest in who he's dating. He's a national institution in the way of Wayne Gretzky -- sure, Wayne may have gotten "married" to some chick, but he remains a sexless superhero in the tradition of Superman, Spiderman and even Harry Potter. Sidney Crosby must do the same!

(It is more awkward than cute that he's living at Mario Lemieux's house though, especially with the way Mario's touching Sidney.)

Looking at him closely, his features would be great on a girl: full, wide eyes and pillowy lips that would make Angelina Jolie and Courtney Love jeaous.

Also, I just had to show this photo:

"And here Taylor Pyatt wears WonderLash Mascara in Blackest Black and Coal Kohl liner, with sheer lipstain in Cherry Pink."

MURRAY
I'm not going to take back what I said about him. It seems like the team has finally bought into his "system," but out of necessity, not out of pure charm or persuasiveness. Ironically, if Spezza hadn't been injured, I doubt the team would've gelled so well. I just don't think he's a remarkable coach.

SPEZZA & HEATLEY
The poor boy can't win. I'm normally not sympathetic to him because he kind of makes me uneasy, but after being injured and having:

a) Dany Heatley, long-time co-conspirator on the ice, confess and prove that he's capable of making his own players thank you very much so who needs Spezza anyway?

b) the team blow teams out without team,

c) the team enter its greatest stretch of play without him,

he's not getting a lot of credit for how well he played before his injury AND this is growing to be fodder for the Anti-Spezza factions who are convinced he's just a spoiled little boy that we'd be better off without. It's alright, Spetz.

We still need you, but Heatley's not yours anymore, baby.

All things go.

Heatley has really come onto his own. He's recovered his own playmaking abilities and you know, other dimensions of his game previously lost under Spezza's wing. It's probably unfair to blame him because Spezza's style of play involves Spezza getting the puck, holding onto the puck, and passing the puck for someone else to shoot. It's like Heatley's finally allowed to be himself, the much more well-rounded offensive player that we all knew and loved in Atlanta.

I'm renewing my calls for Spezza and Heatley to be separated regularly. Putting them together with Alfie for a last-period push is fine but spreading out the offense makes the team that much dangerous. That, and Chris Kelly scoring makes me giggle because of you know, his cement-hands.

WHAT A WORLD

The square root of two is not a real number. There is a theoretical argument arguing against the reality of walking across a room and pressing your nose against the wall. There are more possible chess moves than stars in the sky.

The Senators do better without Spezza and Fisher.

I completely wrote off the Senators after losing Spezza. I'm not going to sugar-coat this: I was thinking 10-game losing streak, a catastrophic tumble that would squeeze us out of the playoff picture altogether. Spezza's usually criticized heavily, but in the midst of our grievings against other players, he was probably the best player for us most nights. I thought we'd collapse without him and lead astray in an offensive desert.

But nooo ... apparently the boys don't like losing much more than I do. You know, they tore off their white-collars and put on their blue-collars, started bringing lunch-pails to work, listening to country music and working in a mine in their spare time. But seriously, the stretch of games we played post-Spezza enacted the best scenario I could've hoped for.

You know, playing "cohesively" as a team and covering for each other is one thing to say and hope for but watching your team play its first systematic game of the season really brings tears to your eyes, almost. We're proven and won games that aren't usually our style -- defensive (we won a 1-0 game! we won 1-0!), offensive (blow-out vs Montreal, semi-blowout vs NYR ...) and comebacks (take that Boston).

And best of all, we're still a reasonable distance away from any sort of remarkable success in the playoffs that I can't see this team being labelled favourites in any playoff series. I like it that we're finally the underdogs.

How I Spent Christmas Eve

2007-01-05T01:22:00.000-05:00

This Christmas Eve, the family bundled up and put on the skates at Nathan Phillips Square, under the bright blue Cavalcade of Lights. I hadn't skated yet this winter season and my skates grew uncomfortably tight as my ankles started throbbing. Real brave of me.

Still, I met someone interesting. An older gentleman, 50 maybe, with dignified white hair, laced up beside me. He started talking to me, much to my surprise. He didn't have a formal, elderly air that I expected; he was quite open and chatty. He was from Bobcaygeon (near Peterborough), wearing a Sault. Ste-Marie Greyhounds jacket and wanted to spent Christmas Eve skating because he didn't want to be with his family. ("Guilt trips, you know?" he asked. "I don't think I'm old enough to know," I replied honestly.") He actually told his mother that he had a flat tire and couldn't make the drive back home, just so he could spend the entire night skating. He'd already spent the previous day at the rink, doing laps until his hamstrings turned numb.

There was a delightful mix of skaters at Nathan Phillips Square. Couples learning to skate for the first time, holding hand and kissing once in a while; tentative beginners; flashy hockey players. A skinny boy wore a vintage Wendel Clark jersey, sparkling blue under the light. He was the flashiest, crossing the entire length of the rink in seconds and absentmindedly twirling and jumping as he turned each corner. I mentioned him to the elderly gentleman, giving my impression that he was a hockey player, maybe. "Real hockey players don't wear those jerseys," he said. He was right. As I watched the skinny boy more closely, he resembled a figure skater more than anything else. He had a graceful, fluid stride, floating effervescently down the ice and spinning about a foot in the air at each turn.

Then there was the Antoine-Vermette lookalike. When I saw his face, my blood froze. Maybe it was the lighting and the angle of his face, but his resemblance was so strong to Antoine Vermette that I purposely sat at the bench, pretending to lace up my skates, just so I could watch him spin around another lap. He certainly skated like Antoine: effortlessly, with a smoothness that startles. There was a girl with him, struggling to keep up and eventually disappearing into the shuffle as he made his laps. I knew, I knew that he couldn't possibly be Vermette. It would make no sense for any of the Senators to be in Toronto during Christmas Eve, not with a game in Ottawa and his family in Québec. But I laced up my skates and chased him anyway. He turned around to step off the ice. Far too thin, I thought. Vermette must have muscles.

Lastly, there was the sweetest little boy I would see all year. He was a scrapper, constantly falling to the ice and getting up. I saw the Ottawa Senators logo on the back of his jacket and skated over to him as he tripped and fell on his knees in front of me. I helped him up, looked in his eyes and asked, "Are you a Sens fan?"

He blinked and answered, "Yeeees."

"Good for you," I said, grinning broadly.

He smiled back as children do to strangers who ask strange questions. Maybe he was visiting from Ottawa. Still, I was happy. Happy to know that in the midst of the civic heart of Toronto, a little boy still bled black, red and gold.