Bargaining. The third, and most pathetic, stage of grief.
If you've ever had the misfortune of having to be associated with me at the tourist stands in the Carribbean, you will know that I am a terrible haggler. So let's just cut to the chase, shall we? I will give probably just about anything to have a good hockey team.
I'm very serious. Take my watch. Take my first born. I don't care what it is that I have to give up, I just need the misery to end. And if it could please end in time for the Canucks game this Saturday, that would be awesome, seeing as how I was shadily roped into a bet that involves me wearing an embarrassingly labelled graphic tee in one of the nicest restaurants in Toronto if the Leafs lose.
I don't need them to win the Cup [any time soon]. I don't even need them to make the playoffs this year. I just need hope. All I'm asking for is a light at the end of this miserably long and dark tunnel - A young and exciting forward who just needs a few more years to get his sea legs under him, or a goalie that can stop pucks, or a captain that doesn't need to be booed during practice so that he can get used to the sound (true story. I don't want to talk about it), or a star player that plays like a star player, or a coach that is a nice human being. I need something, ANYthing, that lets me believe that I am not wasting my energy on this black hole of a hockey club.
More than a few people, but mostly my lovely roommate, have pointed out how depressing and horrible and completely Leafs-centric my blog has become. SO, I will scrap the "Bargaining" post that I painstakingly prepared in time for tonight's game against the Oilers (but seriously: please please please please pleaseeeee win. Please. PLEASE.), and revisit the ol' Cheat Sheet.
(1) Female hockey fans continue to find ways to make me consider a sex change.
I can deal with pink hockey jerseys. Sure, I would never be caught dead in one and I mercilessly judge anyone who wears one, but they have a charitable connotation that makes them tolerable - i.e. I can convince myself that that shrieking girl over there with the hoop earrings and the UGGS is wearing her toddler-sized, belly-baring pink jersey with "Mrs. McBabe" on the back because she actually cares about breast cancer research.
But this. THIS crosses a line:
Courtesy of Senator Fan Steve, who is always looking for creative
ways to make me off myself.
Ladies. Help a sister out here, would you?
(2) The Edmonton Oilers recently drafted Ken Wu
Ken Wu, for those who didn't watch The Mighty Ducks 74 times, was the figure skating phenom who was drafted to the Mighty Ducks in D2, and dubbed "little bash brother" by Fulton and Portman (yup, 74 times is likely a generous underestimate). Clearly, Linus Omark is also a fan:
This was Omark's first shootout attempt, and as a result, it has sparked a number of NHLers to comment on the appropriateness of a rookie attempting such a flashy move.
I fail to see what the big deal is. Everyone is reacting like he attempted a triple sow cow off of a tightrope and then bounced the puck off his nose like a seal before sliding it in the top corner of an impossibly covered net. Erroneous. He did a pre-mature spin-o-rama before slapping it into a woefully open five-hole. Who cares?! He got an otherwise uninspired Edmonton crowd to cheer for something, and I think that deserves props rather than admonishment. Moving on ....
(3) Waffles are the new tomatoes
Last week, following Phaneuf's completely unremarkable return to the lineup and yet another horrifying loss to a team I despise, one particularly aggrieved fan threw his waffles onto the ice, almost directly onto the stick of Francois Beauchemin (marking the first time all season that Francois Beauchemin's stick has been a part of anything worth mentioning). Now, the ACC doesn't serve waffles (they also don't provide sippy lids for their largest size of beer - a gross oversight, in my eyes, and the subject of my next strongly worded letter to the MLSE), which means that this fan must have cooked the waffles at home and smuggled them down his pants in in the sole hope of being provided with an opportunity to throw them at the Leafs. This is the kind of moxy that might otherwise be admirable if it made any sense whatsoever. Waffles? ..... Someone explain.
Saturday night's game against the Bruins is a perfect illustration of why I feel like I am in an abusive relationship.
As is glaringly obvious from my last post, the Leafs were becoming difficult for me to watch. I had begun to spend an inordinate amount of time moodily brooding over what went wrong, and what NFL team I could start following as some sort of sad respite from TML-induced pain. My leafs-related depression was getting so predictable and annoying that I had to start lying to people who asked me why I looked like someone just kicked my dog. The sympathetic looks that I used to get have been replaced with wagging fingers and "told you so" looks, or worse, the scoff of impatient indifference characteristic of someone who has heard me bitch about the same thing for too long when, really, I do it to myself.
As a result, I have been trying to move on. And just when my bags are packed and I'm about to move in with Mark Sanchez and the New York Jets, the Leafs give me the sports equivalent of the "I'll do better, I can CHANGE" talk - They win a game they had no business winning. On paper, the Leafs are worse than the Bruins in pretty much every single way. On top of that, the Bruins provide a painful glimpse into what the Leafs might have looked like (Rask, Knight, Seguin ....), making losses all the more difficult to stomach. So naturally, I anticipated a defeat of the soul-crushing variety. And then ... and then my special little guys show me a pulse.
How they didn't pack their bags in demoralized defeat after Tim Thomas made the following save, I will never know:
A few people have asked me why I haven't posted lately. I've tried. I have started so many drafts, but they all end in capslocked rants.* I'm at a point where I wish I had never forsaken Catholicism, as it has now become clear to me that God hates me. I have bonded with people in bars over our mutual depression. My lovely roommate can do a frighteningly accurate impression of me post-game, and I get the distinct feeling that she's scared of me.
Bill Simmons tells me, in his amazing article outling the 20 steps to being a good fan, that I shouldn't ride the highs and lows so precipitously. When I ask fellow Leafs fan why they too aren't sobbing in the shower hugging their knees to their chest, they tell me that I just need to accept that they are bad and lower my expectations so that I won't be so brutally disappointed.
Apparently, acceptance is the fifth and final stage of grief. I am going to try to work my way through the five stages, so that I can eventually be at a place where, at the very least, people aren't scared to bring up the topic with me.
As pretty much everyone who has ever known me can attest, I have been in a state of Denial for the last 26 years of my life. I think I've got that stage covered.
Which brings me to Anger, aka, the "why me?" stage. And seriously, WHY ME?! I've been a good fan! I stuck by them through my 3 years of living in British Columbia, and more importantly, their DECADES of sucking. Every single family holiday, I fight with one of my family members (you know who you are ... and you better believe I've got ALL my Bruins jokes in my back pocket for December 24th) over them. I endure countless reiterations of the same jokes (sorry, how long has it been since we've won a Cup? And yah, maybe I WILL plan the Parade after we win two games in row. And wow, thank you for reminding me that we have no draft picks this year - I totally don't spend every day hating Brian Burke over that, and your original material is super inspiring). I understand the need to rebuild, and I know that draft picks aren't the only way to do so, and I am willing to be patient, and and and - I just don't see any progress. AND I'M ANGRY ABOUT IT. Stop cracking your sticks in frustration over the crossbar, and score some effing goals. Stop shit-talking your teammates during post-game interviews, and STOP with the ridiculous cross-ice passes TO NO ONE. Battle in the corners, get in front of the net, cover your man, PLAY BETTER HOCKEY. I hate you.
Another little rundown of all of the major happenings in the NHL.
Add a Buffalo Sabres mask
and puffy eyes from nights of
crying, and you've got Ryan Miller
(1) Magnus Arvedson must have broken a mirror
Despite the legions of fantasy owners that are currently lamenting ever drafting Milo Ventimiglia earlier than the 21st round, the Vancouver Canucks could not beat Ryan Miller and the Sabres last night - or any time before that for the last seven years. Despite an impressive comeback, and a raucous overtime period (supplemented by the ever- elucidating commentary of Pierre McGuire, who at one point, actually said "This is fun!"), a miscue in the Canucks zone turned into a horrendous turnover that ended up costing them the game. While it wasn't Aaron Rome's fault necessarily, he was on the ice when the winning goal was scored, and it therefore leads me once again to ask: Why is Alain Vigneault benching $4 million worth of Keith Ballard, and icing $700,000 worth of Aaron Rome, when they BOTH are equally as sub-par? Any Canucks fans care to help me out here?
(2) At least the Canucks have their very own Jiri Tlusty
In 2007, former Leaf Jiri Tlusty was exposed (ba doom ching) by the ever illustrious Toronto Sun, claiming that Tlusty had taken nude pictures of himself on his camera phone. Sadly, it was true. Happily, he has set an example for tastier morsels like Ryan Kesler - and although my friend sent me this picture with the caption "Kesler draws ridicule from the fans, media, me", I personally support his entrepreneurial foray into underwear.
His teammates, of course, have been considerably less forgiving, with Tanner Glass suggesting to the media that it was airbrushed, and Kevin Bieksa promising to bring the ad to the attention of the locker room. I think these boys should leave Kesler and his 8 pack alone, and just thank god every day that Zdeno Chara isn't on their team.
(3) The Leafs can't lose forever. Right?
What bothers me is that it's not even statistically impossible.
The Leafs are currently 1-8-3 in their last 12 games. Saturday's loss to the Canucks marked their 8th straight loss. Kessel is grossly underproducing, which of course draws comparisons (unfair as they may be) to Tyler Seguin, and Mike Brown's moustache still hasn't fought anyone. The depression is magnified by the successes of the Senators, Viktor Stalberg (who was shipped to Chicago as part of the trade for Kris Versteeg, and is currently playing on the top line with Toews, has 10 pts, and is, most importantly and sadly, proving me right), and pretty much every other team in the NHL. BUT, I am not a hater, and so I am resolved to find at least three good things about the current team:
1. In a really endearing show of camaraderie, the Leafs have decided to show Nazem Kadri that no one on the team deserves to be playing outside of the AHL.
2. Giguere has a lot of respect for former Leaf goalies, as evidenced by his near-perfect imitation of Vesa Toskala against Mason Raymond's trickling 40 footer on Saturday.
3. Colby Armstrong is due back any day now, which is great news seeing as how a player who is currently on pace for 9 goals this season should do wonders for our offensive drought.
I'm sorry. I can't do it. I love them, and I will never leave them, but I'm bitter and depressed. I know I know - It's always darkest before dawn, you have to know the bad before you can have the good, BLAH BLAH BLAH.
(4) This just in: Sean Avery is still a giant D-bag.
Anyone who has ever read my blog or watched a hockey game with me knows that I love me my hockey fights. And bench brawls are to hockey fights what a 24 ounce porterhouse is to ground chuck - Bigger, bloodier, and one hundred times more delectable. Sunday was no exception, when the Edmonton Oilers and New York Rangers had a bona fide throwdown. Seeing as how these two teams are the furthest things from perennial rivals, one may ask how something like this could have happened. The answer: Sean Avery and his douchebaggery.
Word on the street is that Smid started goading Avery into a fight, and Avery turned him down, saying that he would drop the gloves off the next faceoff. When Smid started turning away, Avery sucker-punched him. It then turned into Stortini filling in Prust, MacIntyre fighting Boogaard, and Brandon Dubinsky grabbing Fraser from the bench (for which he has since been suspended). It was awesome.
I apologize for the lateness of this week's installment of Hockey for Bernies, but despondency really stifles my creativity.
In an attempt to give my misery some company, I rallied some of my friends together for Hockey Night in Canada this past Saturday. 7:00-10:00 pm was par for the course - The ACC somehow managed to find yet another occasion/holiday/obscure 4th liner from the 1950's to celebrate in a protracted pre-game ceremony, the Leafs made me suicidal, Ron Wilson had me screaming at the television for hours, and Steve's cries of joys over the Senators' continued winning streak made my ears bleed.
Then HNIC shifted to the west coast, where the Vancouver Canucks were being visited by the Detroit Red Wings, and they played ... HOCKEY. Actual hockey - with clean goals, and crisp passes, and hard hits, and players who can skate. A few of my friends commented on how much more enjoyable the Canucks game was to watch, so I thought that this week's Hockey for Bernies could compare and contrast the Eastern and Western Conferences.
Western Conference: 9 of the last 15 Stanley Cup Champions have been from the Western (Campbell) Conference. 12 of the last 15 President's Trophy winners have also been of Western affiliation. Eastern Conference: If playoff spots were given to the best 16 teams in the league, rather than per Conference, only 6 teams from the East would have qualified last year. Also, for those Leafs fans out there, the "Stanley Cup" is a big silver goblet given to the team that wins four playoff rounds. What are these "playoffs" that I'm referring to? Oh, never mind.
Western Conference: In order to score goals, players employ the crazy strategy of making crisp, smart passes in the other team's zone, and shooting the puck at the net. Eastern Conference: In order to score goals, players body slam goalies and count on the fact that because they're playing Florida, no one is paying attention.
Western Conference: After particularly difficult or intense playoff games, Western Conference fans unwind by having a few beers and/or kayaking. Eastern Conference: After particularly difficult or intense playoff games, Eastern Conference fans unwind by beating up visiting Buffalo Sabres fans, setting cars on fire, and/or taking a break from watching the annual April Leafs golf tournament long enough to wonder what all of the hoopla is about.
Western Conference: Fans revere players like Henrik Sedin, Drew Doughty, Jonathan Toews, and Pavel Dastyuk. Eastern Conference: Fans revere players like Milan Lucic, Matt Carkner, Tie Domi, and Chris Pronger.
Western Conference: The hockey community hailed Brian Burke as a genius for pulling off a last minute trade that saw both Sedins land in Vancouver, and for taking the Anaheim Mighty Ducks from Emilio Estevez to Lord Stanley. Eastern Conference: For a fraction of a nano-second in 2009, the hockey community hailed Brian Burke as a genius for trading worthless draft picks for scoring phenom Phil Kessel, and for turning around the struggling Maple Leafs.
Western Conference: Before a playoff game in cities such as Chicago or Vancouver, the crowd would cheer so loudly that you couldn't even hear the anthems being played.
Eastern Conference: Before a playoff game in Ottawa, the crowd would be so silent that you could hear every. single. rally cry of Eugene Melnyck dressed as a Spartan.
Western Conference: Otherwise ineffective players are at least still recognized in the media for their work in the community. Eastern Conference: Otherwise ineffective players are at least still recognized in the media for marrying Carrie Underwood.
