The Best Game I Can Name

“So you're a Leafs fan, then?”

This is the go-to assumption whenever I tell someone I'm from Toronto. In this case, my questioner was a young guy working a zip-line in Alaska. “No!” I said. I was tempted to add that I think the Toronto Maple Leafs and their unwavering fans embody everything that's wrong with the National Hockey League, but I contented myself with, “No, no. No.”

He nodded. “I'm from Minnesota,” he said, “and I just can't bring myself to cheer for the Stars. I'm not sure why it is, but they just don't excite me.”

“We grew up in Winnipeg,” said my brother, adding the unnecessary element of mischief.

“You happy to see the Jets come back?” asked the zip-line guy.

“I have friends who are,” I said. “My relationship to the NHL changed when the Jets were sold to Phoenix. I think I stopped being a fan of a team and learned how to become a fan of the game — kinda-sorta.” This is true. If a game is on, I'm happy to tune in and watch, so long as both teams are engaged. This discounts 90% of Leafs games, along with what I've seen so far of the new Jets.

I can't say I'm especially gratified to see the Jets return to Winnipeg. First of all, it really isn't a “return” in the strictest sense of the word: the Jets were sold to Phoenix, who still retain that franchise property. If that specific franchise had been sold back to Winnipeg, I might have been cajoled into a half-assed state of celebration. But there remains no-one on that team who ever called Winnipeg home for even the shortest duration. The team that, in the off-season, hoofed it out to the various satellite farming communities to play charity baseball games, the athletes who made the occasional school gym appearance to encourage kids away from drugs, etc. — that team has vanished.

What Winnipeg has instead is a team they purchased and moved from Atlanta — yet another southern city whose only prior exposure to ice was in their mint juleps. Winnipeg has purchased a re-entry into the NHL. And it has purchased, on promissory terms, several seasons' worth of NHL games which they will host. The only player to express unreserved delight at living in Winnipeg is dead. The rest of the team will have to get pointers on discretion from their colleagues in Calgary and Edmonton. There are only so many strip clubs in Winnipeg, and that is a city that thrives on talk.

I said none of this to the zip-line guy. “So who do you cheer for?” he asked.

“Whoever's playing an interesting game,” I said. “That's often Detroit. Colorado, occasionally. New Jersey. Actually, Chicago is a team that's almost always interesting to watch, even when they don't quite have what they need to go the distance. I've generally kept one eye on them, right from the 80s on.”

“I hear you,” he said. “I like Boston that way, myself.”

“Then you've had a good summer,” I said.

He grinned. “I've had very good summer.”

“I'm happy for you,” I said. And I was.

Alright, people: put on a happy face!



Image cadged from this site. Over here Ken Dryden offers some suggestions in aid of keeping the game healthy.

Winnipeg, And The NHL: "Winning Doesn't Just Happen"

Winnipeg finally gets another crack at playing host to an NHL franchise. I should be happy — nay, ecstatic — for the city of my youth, but I’m having trouble finding that note.

If there’s a city on this continent that ought to be the North American Hockey Capital, it’s Winnipeg. You won’t find a longer, colder winter this side of Iqaluit; the locals love the game, more than any other sport they play host to; and I believe the season ticket sales will likely show the citizens to be as loyal to their team as Toronto is to its pathetic Leafs — if we analyze the stats on a per capita basis.

Scout around and the tenor of most analysts is a “The glass is at least half-full!” I’m resolutely “half-empty” in my perspective, so here’s how I see the Winnipeg situation.

The NHL has not been kind to Winnipeg. When John Ziegler and Brian O’Neill finally opened the door for the WHA, and Winnipeg’s Jets, to enter the NHL, it was under the condition Winnipeg put three of its six best scorers up in a reclamation draft. This, coupled with some characteristically bone-headed managerial strategies, reduced Winnipeg to a farm team scraping for its next big break.

After two abysmal seasons — one a record-setter, of the sort that people strive to avoid — Winnipeg learned to perform respectably enough in the grand scheme of things. But in a division dominated by Calgary and Super-Edmonton, they never made it past the first round of play-offs. Once Gary Bettman followed Gretzky’s lead and dug for gold in the southern states, the writing was on the wall for Winnipeg.

Guy Vanderhaeghe once remarked about life on the prairies, “We have our wealthy citizens — but they’re not that wealthy.” Nowhere does this hold truer than in Winnipeg. Does the place really have more money flowing through it than it did 15 years ago? A betting man could make a persuasive case that the US greenback is down for the count bringing those recently-capped players' salaries within almost-affordable range, but even so, what’s Winnipeg got beyond an assured fan base to keep a team happy and well-fed? Hydro, life insurance and a furniture factory. Who am I missing?

Weirdly enough, for a guy who consciously chose to move to Toronto, I actually feel protective toward the city I was born in. I can remember a disgruntled quaterback for the Winnipeg Blue Bombers trying to get out of his contract so he could play the NFL complaining that, when it came to life in the city, “There are only so many times you can go to the zoo.” I happen to think the culture scene in Winnipeg is more vibrant and inviting than it is in, say, Toronto. But if you prefer to live in a city where the temperature doesn’t dip below freezing, and your idea of seeing the sights is a strip bar with more than five poles — and let’s face it, I’ve just described 99% of pro hockey players — then Winnipeg can be a tough sell. And I haven’t even mentioned the mosquitoes.

But hey: maybe I’m out to lunch on all this. Maybe those young guys from Atlanta are keen to play for a crowd that’s passionate about the game. Maybe this is a sign that Bettman’s rethink of league expansion is finally pointed in the right direction. Detroit's a city that's been on the ropes for decades, and yet it’s got a Stanley legacy — why not Winnipeg?

Here’s the great thing about being a genial pessimist: nothing makes me happier than being proven wrong.

Go, Winnipeg. Go.

Mr. Hockey

My wheezy old laptop from '98 finally fell apart. That was my "composition" computer. I didn't hook it up to the internet; I just used it for word processing, and that was it. I haven't yet replaced it, so ... you get a picture of Gordie Howe, circa 2001, courtesy of GQ and my scanner. Enlarge and enjoy.


Speaking of hockey, I'm having trouble enjoying the first round of playoffs. The teams I really want to see play each other have another round or two to go, and in some cases they're looking like they might not have it in them to get that far (I'm talking about you, Vancouver).

Don Cherry, Exit Stage Right

Rob Ford, Toronto's new mayor, hasn't done much yet to change the shape of his office or the city he's taken charge of, but his mastery over a largely antagonistic media is truly remarkable. The coiffed heads holding out the microphones don't like him, and Ford is often his own worst enemy when he chooses to answer their questions. And yet this week he managed to come out looking sharp, by pulling a sleight-of-hand that completely hoodwinked the camera's (and public) eye. Ford craftily delivered on a flashy, one-time power-play custom-made for voters who'd grown weary of high-minded political prevarication (more later) while conscripting from the audience a loud-mouthed rube to further distract from the mayor's own less-than-appealing public image — one Don Cherry.

Cherry is always game to grab the spotlight, the mic, the camera, the audience member by the ears if he has to. With his pink double-breasted jacket — “For all the pinkos out there riding bicycles and everything” — and his sledge-hammer wit (ibid) Cherry performed to spec, explaining to City Council and the public exactly why Rob Ford “is going to be the greatest mayor this city has ever, ever seen,” specifically referring to the first act Ford did as mayor-elect: personally and publicly correcting a single instance of bureaucratic bungling that the Toronto Sun had taken on as a cause célèbre. “And put that in your pipe, you left-wing kooks.”

I was in my car, listening to the broadcast on the radio, and when Cherry put the emphasis on “kooks” I burst out laughing. Ford took the mic next, and, thanks to this splendidly manufactured contrast, came across for the first time in his life as a gentleman of understated and considerate character. I wanted to stop the car and applaud, but behind my revelry was an edge of nervousness that kept me from truly enjoying the moment. Not for Toronto, mind you, or even for myself: left-wing kooks like me actually take a perverse pleasure in public humiliations that prove us, beyond all shadow of a doubt, completely wrong. Those giddy moments bolster what's left of our flagging faith in humanity. No, I was nervous for Don Cherry, because I think I'm watching him write his own final chapter. And it's looking pretty sad.

Don Cherry has paradoxically managed to charm his way into the hearts of millions of Canadian television viewers (including my own) simply by being who he is. He talks about what's important to him, and what's important to him is often what's important to the people watching him: chiefly hockey, of course, but also the fate of our soldiers, and other hard-working joes having a tough time making a go of it. Like many of the extreme-right blowhards to the south of us, Cherry is incredibly showy, but unlike many of the same it is never just for show. The impression most of us have, thanks in large part to the masterful massaging touch of Ron MacLean, Cherry's HNIC straight-man and long-time friend, is that Cherry will never say something he doesn't believe, or force himself to believe something he's been asked to say.

MacLean, however, is carrying more and more of Cherry's weight these days. Cherry's age is showing, and the moments when MacLean has to feed or finish one of Cherry's lines are increasing. And that's just hockey. As for the politics, once the cheerful questioning of a respectful side-kick has been removed, Cherry's perspective on things starts to look shopworn or, worse, naïve.

Adding his bellow to the bullhorns wielded by Ford and Julian Fantino is unfortunate for Cherry. No doubt they're fine fellows at a backyard barbecue, but professionally they have already proven themselves to be slippery and frequently contemptible politicians. The lift Cherry gives these candidates will be temporary. Their final effect on him, on the other hand, could likely stick, and not smell nearly so sweet.

That's a lousy way for one of Canada's “national treasures” to go into that good night. But there it is: it's a sin to entice your sidekick into the grave with you, because the Longest Journey is inevitably a solo one. Cherry seems intent on taking those initial steps now.

Text and audio here. It's sheer speculation on my part, but I wonder if this isn't the piece Cherry was railing against — a must-read for any fan of "Canada's Game."

Obligatory Hockey Post

Normally, my heart would be with the Flyers, who were my childhood favorites (yes, even during the Broadstreet Bully years -- my first three years of life were spent in Philly). Chicago, on the other hand, has always had my favorite logo. They're also an unpredictable team, with the sort of fans I wish Toronto would garner. My heart is with the 'hawks.

(I look crap in red, but is this not the spankiest jersey out there?)

Obligatory Hockey Post

Or: "My Habs Theory"

How could a team whose regular season style of play was so, to put it kindly, lackluster get so far in the playoffs? I mean, one month ago it almost looked like the Leafs were going to keep them from the playoffs -- the Leafs, fer cryin' out loud. How is it this team now looks like serious contender for The Stanley Cup?

My theory: coaching. The wiley Jacques Martin took note of how mind-numbingly, physically punishingly, beyond absurdly LONG the regular season is and made a point of keeping his team from over-exerting itself -- saving itself, if you will, for the playoffs.

The Habs' current style of play isn't going to earn them more than one Stanley, but it has certainly been a revelation to watch. Originally it maddened me to see how many shots on net the Habs were apparently content to allow, making the team look like a one-player phenomenon. Over the span of the playoffs, though, Martin has marshaled his team to keep the action pressed to the boards. While this does allow for more than a few stunningly clear shots on net, Halak is obviously up to the task of keeping them out. In another season or two it won't matter how good Halak is as a goalie (and he is proving himself to be the best in the league this season), the human body can't take that sort of puck-peppering without breaking down. But for this season, it will more than suffice.

In other divisions: I'm pleased to see San Jose get as far as they have, not just for sentimental reasons -- I like their style of play (what little I've seen of it: those West Coast games run pretty late). While I am certainly rooting for the Habs, it would not break my heart to see the Sharks battle it out with the Flyers for Stanley. All in all, this has been fun to watch.

Addendum to "Final Score"

Some of my American readers may not be fully aware of just what a big deal this is. Never mind that revelers are taking to the streets in every Canadian city: this win has saved me countless hours of parsing over — with former jocks, thirsty cafe patrons, moms and their strollers — what we did wrong. Now, when I'm greeted with, "Did you see that game?!" I can say, "Killer, eh?" follow that up with a satisfied grin, and be done with it.

Final Score

I am as thrilled as any Canadian over the Gold Medal for Men's Hockey. I thought it was an exciting game — an exciting series — and that Sydney Crosby redeemed the team from the three (or so) minutes of "Let's just dog it, boys" that nearly gave it up to the Americans. I very much want Zach Parise to defect to Canada.

A gratifying and memorable series, to be sure. Various Facebook friends (Canadians all, natch) are speculating that this is the new 1972, but I'm not so sure. Will my daughters (ages 11 and 13) really remember 2010 the way I (aged seven, when I'm not 44) remember 1972?

Taking Inordinate "Freude" in Vancouver's "Schaden"

I've usually taken pleasure in the Winter Olympic Games, but this year the task seems to require my concentration. Right from the git-go, when the bid was won by Vancouver, I've borne little but ill-will toward IOC and VanOC. Why? Because by awarding Vancouver the games, both committees reaffirmed their innate stupidity: Texas gets more snow than Vancouver does. Personally, I would have bid for Anchorage, if only to see Sarah's Bridge completed.

Adding to my difficulties is CTV's attempt at "hipper-than-thou" television coverage -- the "thou" in this case being the CBC, who used to cover the Olympics with predictable (and repetitive) hokeyness. Stalwarts Brian Williams and Rod Black are about as offensive as soft ice cream, but their various cohorts are insufferable. Yesterday afternoon I caught Elvis Stojko stifling contempt as Dan Levy and Jessi Cruickshank cajoled him into declaring the most sensational figure skating spills of the games thus far. And last night's hockey game, the first event I was actually anticipating with some eagerness, was similarly marred by CTV's "bad boy" approach to commentary. With a united chorus of, "We need 'greasy' goals!" the entire panel looked and sounded like defective Don Cherry clones.

Feh. A pox on all your houses.

Link love: Salon to Canada: "Nice try, but you're fired." More! Canadians get angry (bad idea) while Vancouver mishaps and misjudgments continue. With a tip o' the hat to Rob in Victoria, who, I hope, is having fun.

Gretzky's Tears: Hockey, Canada, and the Day Everything Changed By Stephen Brunt

For Gretzky's Tears: Hockey, Canada, and the Day Everything Changed (A) Stephen Brunt takes a wide brush and paints the personalities that cooked up the NHL's most momentous (and expensive) trade deal. Subtlety isn't necessary: most of these guys were loud-mouthed fat-heads who kept an eye out for the biggest cash cow on the horizon, with a complete disregard for the health of the corporation, never mind the sport. The only quiet ones who kept their cards close to their chests were Wayne and Walter Gretzky, who, in Brunt's account, come to embody the best and the worst of Canadian enterprise. Brunt doesn't just argue that Gretzky's trade to Los Angeles paved the way for Gary Bettman's disastrous expansion of the league, he suggests that Wayne Gretzky's best interests (and no-one guards those interests like father and son) have lead to inevitable catastrophe for the league.

Although I've followed Brunt as a columnist, I hadn't yet read any of his books. As a columnist his prose is measured and to the point; as a book writer, he likes to turn up the heat, and not always to good effect. Also, the concluding chapter outlining the forehead-smacking deal Phoenix made to hire "The Great One" as coach is clearly rushed. The recent Bettman vs. Balsillie dust-up is only touched upon (in interviews Brunt admits he could have devoted an entire book to this), but we don't need a book to tell us who the obvious losers are: the Phoenix tax-payers, the National Hockey League, and the fans. As for Bettman, he may regard the Balsillie shut-out as a personal victory, but with the southern franchises hemorrhaging money faster than the Fed, Bettman's day of reckoning is most certainly coming down the pike.

So, are there any winners? Only one: Wayne Gretzky, by an enormous bank account.

Obligatory Hockey Post

It's a curious thing: during regular season I'm generally indifferent to, when I'm not annoyed with, Detroit's game. But every time they make it this far -- every time -- I cannot help but watch with admiration and think, "There is nothing alive that deserves to beat this team."

Obligatory Hockey Post

Blackberry Bazillionaire Jim Balsillie wants to buy the Phoenix Coyotes and move them up to Hamilton, Ontario. File that under, "A Fool And His Money," please. NHL Commissioner Gary Bettman whispers something about moving the Coyotes back to Winnipeg. I've got ideas about exactly where Gary Bettman ought to file that "sales pitch", too. As I've said before: the league is too large, the season is too long, and everyone involved is too fat in the head to do the right thing and downsize.

Obligatory Hockey Post

I didn't want the Vancouver/Chicago series to end, and I certainly didn't want it to end the way it did, with the sole Canadian team eliminated from the playoffs. This was my favorite series, and I can't imagine another match-up being nearly as fun to watch. I enjoyed the end-to-end action, and thought both teams were appropriately scrappy. Although I'm sorry to see Vancouver eliminated, I've always had a soft spot in my heart for Chicago (both the city, and their beleaguered Blackhawks). I'm looking forward to what they can accomplish in the next round.

Obligatory Hockey Post

This isn't working the way it was supposed to. How Carolina got past the league's best goalie is a mystery to me. And where did Grapes' beloved San Jose team disappear to? I acknowledge I've been generous in spirit toward Randy Carlyle's Anaheim Ducks, but that was then and this is now. I don't enjoy Anaheim's style of play: it's ponderous and heavy with elbows, and for once in my life I'm hoping Detroit makes short work of them.

Dan Zanes

I apologize for the light blogging of late. The demands of spring, the needs of family and the end-of-season follies on ice all conspire to keep me from considered composition. Instead, I'll link to a couple of interviews with Dan Zanes -- rocker-turned-mensch, and something of a role model for yours truly. I'm not sure when he won the Esky (pictured at right -- I don't even know if the magazine still gives 'em out) but belated congratulations are in order. Here is Zanes' official website.

Getting back to hockey: the best games seem to be played by teams on the west coast. And here's a particular curiosity: Vancouver game play (so far) is among the most exciting in the play-offs. How can this be, when so many of their players are former Leafs?!

Gratuitous Hockey Post

So "Grapes" predicts a Bruins-Sharks fight for the Stanley Cup? I'm skeptical, but he's seen more hockey this year than I have. And I have to admit: I wouldn't mind. Whenever I've had the chance to watch either team, I've enjoyed the game. So go get 'em, guys. In the meantime, I'll be thinking of an old co-worker as I cheer on Vancouver. More about that later.

Gratuitous Hockey Post

This morning there are 29 coaches whose first item of business is placing a phone call to their tech crew and ordering a copy of every single game the Detroit Red Wings played this season. That will mean spending a lot of time in front of a bank of television screens even though the golf course beckons, but there is simply no alternative. At some point this season Detroit gelled into a team that was fated to win the Stanley Cup.

I composed fewer Gratuitous Hockey Posts this year than I have others, and I blame Detroit for that. The excitement factor, for this viewer, was limited entirely to the first game in each series. Did the Nashville Predators have any surprises for Detroit? Not really. The Avs were a talented, albeit injured, crew: could they rattle the Wings? Nope. Okay, Dallas: whattaya got? Um ... nothing?

If coach Mike Babcock looked unflappable, it was because he had no reason to look anything but. Detroit was a machine. They didn't just play a deep, offensive game: they routinely left their opponents skating behind them as they pummeled their goalie with shots. The way Babcock's team was playing, he could have watched the games from home -- along with the bulk of Detroit's fans, who seemed to find the prospect of an 11th Stanley Cup win about as exciting as the rest of us.

This was the team that deserved to win the cup, no doubt about it. I just hope the rest of the league does its homework, because if someone doesn't throw a cog into that machine, the Wings will be gearing up for a long, predictable, extended Stanley Cup legacy.

Gratuitous Hockey Post

When I turned on the television I was hoping Ottawa would rally and prove themselves playoff-worthy. In other words, I was predisposed to cheer for the Sens. But Pittsburgh's energy and, dare I say, joy was so infectious I was on my feet when Gary Roberts put in his backhand goal. Normally there's not much fun to be had when witnessing a rout, but last night was the exception.

As for San Jose v. Calgary, after last night I'm counting on them taking it to the full seven games -- a very welcome prospect for this viewer.

Gratuitous Hockey Post

The NHL playoffs are set, which means I'm about to start watching hockey with some regularity. I'll be curious to see how the Senators do -- last year they soared through the playoffs, only to be methodically throttled by Randy Carlisle's Ducks at the very conclusion. Perhaps this bitter defeat, in combination with a signature year (a glorious opening season, followed by a slow erosion to indeterminate status) will generate the sort of character growth they've been missing?

The Washington Capitals are worth watching, and I'm looking forward to seeing San Jose and Anaheim play -- two teams whose games are rarely broadcast in this Toronto-centric neighborhood. Speaking of which, I was cheered to see Canada's newsweekly provide this highly amusing bit of analysis: Why The Leafs Stink: What It Takes To Build A Chronic Loser (here). It's a funny question for me to ponder, because I don't know what I'd do if the Leafs began to play winning hockey. Frankly, the current situation couldn't make me happier. The blue and white, which have dominated the airwaves with their dreary dump-n-chase play during the regular season, are completely out of the picture, thus allowing hockey fans (as opposed to Leafs' fans) to watch the game as it's meant to be played.

Gratuitous Hockey Post

Halfway through the first period as I was watching Ottawa struggling once again to figure out how to play this game with this team, I thought, "I wonder if the circumstances aren't just about right for another Steve Smith moment?" In a just world, this would never have happened to Chris Phillips, who was outplaying nearly everyone else on his team. But in a just world it would never have happened to Steve Smith, either.

I certainly enjoyed watching the Ducks play the last four games. They executed a forward rush that Ottawa never got a grip on (though there were signs in the first period last night that that had changed). The Stanley Cup is duly theirs, and I'm very happy for Randy Carlyle, Scott Niedermeyer, that Penner guy from the prairies ... even Chris Pronger!