Just read this beauty on TSN about the latest Ranger debacle:
"If Tortorella was trying to hide his frustration, it was clearly evident in the Rangers dressing room. The white board used to write down the Canadiens line combinations appeared to take the brunt of the anger, sitting on the floor with three, stick-shaped cracks in it."
It appears that the Rangers could use some scoring. Wonder where Jagr is these days?
Video I found on Puck Daddy. Keep an eye out for 68:
Talk about a fall from grace. Looks like the friggin' Thunderdome. I feel like Tina Turner is about to come out and lead a "Two men enter, one man leaves!" chant.
Delighting in Ranger misery when most things seem to be going well for the Islanders is probably bad karma--although I don't believe in those things--so I should stop. If Brooksie can restrain himself...
If the NHL doesn't have a season of the new reality show "Torts and Brooksie" in pre-production, they're making yet another mistake.
More Islanders-related stuff soon. Unless these exchanges continue, in which case we'll be changing this blog to be all Torts and Brooksie, all the time.
...but, ultimately, a lot of fun. So, cue the chicken:
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Welcome to the off-season, Rangers. Come join us on the golf course (please tell Mr. Tortorella to stay home, because there might be taunting, and, truth be told, we don't trust him with a golf club).
So far, everything's come up roses for the Isles since the season ended: they won the lottery; the Pens won, so they get a better draft pick; the Sharks lost, so their late-first rounder is as high as could've been expected; and both local teams lost crushing Game 7s, with the Rangers' collapse one for the ages.
The Rangers have found their way into the NY media. And that's no small feat considering both the Mets and Yankees stink and there was a big story for the Jets coming out of the NFL draft. Big-time Ranger fan Boomer Esiason with partner Craig Carton of WFAN talk about the Rangers and Glen Sather's letter. Take a listen
Update 4/28: All attempts to link to the clip have failed. If you want a listen, go to the WFAN home page (www.wfan.com) and navigate to the Carton and Boomer page. Listen to "Blueshirt Cry Babies"
And as long as I'm assembling a short history of game 5, here's some tweets from everyone's favorite spaghetti-bending Ranger fan:
"Did Tom Renney sneak into the Verizon Center wearing a Torts suit tonight? Shorty & a too many men penalty? Not a good sign..." "Holy crap. Matt Bradley WTF? #Rangers"
Anyway, Jim Schonfield will be behind the bench for the Rangers. Lord nothing interesting could come of that... Oh, hell. Here it is for old time's sake:
The Islanders finished last in the league, the Sound Tigers got bounced in the first round of the AHL playoffs, and the Rangers are one win away from making it to the second round of the NHL playoffs. Things are grim in Islanders Country.
So, please, please let's take the announcer's advice in the clip below and let John Tortorella fight the "overserved" (and overfed...as seen in the second clip) gentleman in the white T-shirt. Because, win or lose, that would be one entertaining fight.
If that guy's not available, I'll also watch a fight between Tortorella and the guy with the mohawk.
I'd been meaning to get out to see an Eastern Professional Hockey League game ever since the team set up a booth at a Cyclones game I attended last year. Hockey in Brooklyn? Sure, I'll check that out. Then I looked online and saw where exactly the Aviator Sports and Recreation Complex (the home ice of the Brooklyn Aces) was and, as a 32-year-old man without a driver's license, thought, "Well, maybe not." The Aviator Complex is in a part of Brooklyn best described as "Where Exactly Am I?" Or at least it seems that way when you don't have a car and are reliant on the subway and bus routes of the Metropolitan Transit Authority. Similarly, if I wanted to see the Aces' rivals, our own Jersey Rockhoppers (apparently, a rockhopper is a penguin, because when you think Jersey, you think penguins), I would have to travel to West Orange, which is not a trip I want to make with NJ Transit.
Then, the Aces announced that they had signed "Hockey Night Live" sexpot Ron Duguay to a one-day contract, and he would be suiting up for a game against the Jersey Rockhoppers. Now, there's a reason to venture out into unknown territory. Then, to sweeten the pot, the Aces announced that the Howard Stern crew (well, those who could skate, and, based on the actual skating that took place, that was flexible) would be squaring off between the first and second intermission. It was go time.
When I asked the Q35 bus driver to let me know when we got to the Aviator Complex, all he said was "Oh, you'll know." And so, I did, as we came to an airport hangar-size building (the complex is part of Floyd Bennett Field, a decommissioned airport) that features two rinks, a basketball court, a rock-climbing wall, a bunch more stuff I didn't see, and surprisingly good pizza at the snack bar. There is no assigned seating for Aces games, save for the "skybox" seats above the ice, which, at $35, were out of my price range. So I plunked down $16 for a bleacher seat (those cold, uncomfortable steel benches that kids love to pound on, which becomes less charming with each passing second) and settled in for the game.
When the (naturally) helmetless Duguay initially took the ice, there was a pretty fair-sized pop. I was pleased to hear a well-fed Islanders fan begin to heckle Duguay during the ceremonial puck drop, urging him to come out to Nassau and see the banners and, of course, giving him a hearty "Ooh la la." The kids in his section seemed unimpressed and, perhaps, a bit confused. One can only hope that some parent's Saturday night was spent explaining that the older Ace without the helmet was once part of an ad campaign for designer jeans. And one can similarly hope that that child went to YouTube, found this
,
and is now ashamed to be a Rangers fan.
Duguay primarily took short shifts throughout, with a a few longer ones when whistles broke up the play. To his credit (and I don't enjoy giving Rangers credit), he didn't look out of place (except for, you know, the feathered hair and the earring) among the younger guys, and he even got a little dirty in the corner late in the third, getting a hearty roar from the crowd in the process. He was also strong on faceoffs, though perhaps his hair served as a distraction for the opposing player. Fortunately, further distraction was avoided when Duguay decided not to cut his jersey to show his chest hair.
It was a decent-sized crowd at the game, likely augmented by Duguay's appearance and not affected in the least, judging by the aggressive apathy that greeted the introduction of the Stern staffers at the first intermission, by the promise of seeing "Wrap-Up Show" host and "Jump The Shark" creator Jon Hein (whose physical appearance can best be described by the adjective "Keilloresque") and "The Intern Show" host Steve Brandano lace up the skates. I think I might have been one of three people clapping when they were introduced. And the cheers didn't exactly grow as they played (to be fair, though, I was on the less-populated side of the arena...a caller to the Monday-morning wrap-up show seemed to indicate that the other side of the arena was more into it).
The battle (never has a term been used more loosely), which also featured a guy wearing a Dell'Abate jersey who wasn't noted Islander fan Gary "Baba Booey" Dell'Abate, Howard TV producer Doug Goodstein, and Private Parts coauthor and Village Irregular Larry "Ratso" Sloman (author of the best hockey book I've ever read, Thin Ice, about the Sasson-era Rangers, and the best Dylan book I've ever read, On the Road with Bob Dylan), ended 3-1, and all the goals were scored in the final two minutes when both goalies were pulled. It was ugly.
Luckily, Duguay was around to pretty everything up. And when he picked up a power-play assist on the game-tying goal in the final minute, the crowd ate it up. Alas, the Rockhoppers would not be denied their playoff-berth-clinching win, with Matt Puntureri putting in his second goal of the game with 30.7 seconds left in overtime. I'm not entirely clear about just how prestigious clinching a playoff berth in a four-team league is, especially when one of the four teams (the Hudson Valley Bears) has won three games out of 48 and let in 360 goals in that span. But it does mean that the Aces and Rockhoppers will meet in the best-of-three championship starting on Thursday. Go Rockhoppers! Make Jersey proud.
Duguay finished with an assist and a -1 and was scheduled to play for the Rockhoppers in today's season finale against the Danbury Mad Hatters, which I can't find stats for at the moment (I'll update later). In between, he joined his fellow Aces for a postgame autograph session. The line for said session eventually split into kids who don't care who Ron Duguay is and adults who at least kind of do (the latter included me, as I had him sign my NHL 75th anniversary book). As I was waiting in line, the guy in front of me noted the jersey in my hand and asked me which one I got. I told him that, though I bid on (and won...35 bucks) Jon Hein's "game-worn" jersey, the guys had apparently taken their jerseys with them, so I was told I could either wait for the team to get the jersey back and have them mail it to me or take one of the unused ones they had. Deciding that I didn't really want Jon Hein's jersey anyway (it was for charity, and there were no bidders), I jumped at an unused one. The guy on line seemed to think this was an awful decision.
"Game-worn. That's what they're all about these days. Game-worn," he said.
"Yeah, well, it's barely game-worn," I replied.
"Well, I guess that's true."
I got the sense that he still thought I was a fool. And when the Jon Hein game-worn memorabilia market skyrockets, I guess I'll think I was a fool, too.
On the bus back to the subway station (to the PATH station to home), I noticed two young kids with, I assume, their dad. Both of them were still clearly on a hockey high, but the older one was staring at his photo signed by the Aces as if it were the Golden Ticket, moving it around in his hands to look at every last signature. I'm almost certain he didn't care about Ron Duguay. He was just happy to have met and got autographs from the guys in uniforms he just saw play.
It was a nice image to take on the long journey home.
Big win tonight, with strong goaltending from Joey Mac and a good job of taking it as it comes from the offense. And that was the kind of third period I was hoping to see. It wasn't a perfect game by any means (plus, there was no Fritz-Orr, but there'll be time for that later in the season), but if the Isles can win some games like these, it'll make the clunkers a little easier to take.
I generally don't like to gloat, particularly so early in the season, but I'm not sure how many gloating opportunities this season will present. So, though I'm sure it will come back to haunt me, please enjoy the results of my indie film shoot after the game:
I have to keep this short. But this? Really? When you hear imminent news of departure, you write these ridiculous stories every week. We haven't heard that news.
We know the Lighthouse deal is important, etc. But where is this nonsense coming from? The team is terrible. The team has been terrible before. It's not surprising. The Islanders are supposed to be terrible this year. That's. How. You. Get. Better.
Charles Wang, for all of his failures, owns a team that has made the playoffs four times in the past seven years. That's not that awful. Also, he's never given any (any!) indication he wants to move the team. He wants to develop an entire fucking neighborhood/city around the fucking Coliseum. That is good. That is a nice, good thing. Yeah, he's going to make money. Someone makes money on almost every thing in the world that is good, even peace, love, dope, and anal beads.
Assholes.
The Isles looked pretty good for two periods. They don't finish well, but they did skate, forecheck, etc. for at least 40 minutes. They wilted in the third and got all disjointed, but I'm not going to complain. The Rangers are good. There, I said ... oh fuck it. There is nothing that pisses me off more in sport than seeing asshole Rangers fans at the Coliseum. Go back to Manhattan where you live ... oh wait, no one can afford to live in Manhattan. Go back to Jersey, or Rockville (is that even a place? I'm from Binghamton, fuck you), or wherever you motherfuckers live, and cheer against your hometown team in your living room, you insufferable twats.
Here's one huzzah! for our man Kyle Oh!poso. He looked good last night. I saw four of five good shifts, and we're Islanders fans, we'll take it.
It's snowing six inches up here today. I'm putting on the foil.
Lost in the hubbub surrounding the Islanders saying ta-ta to Teddy was another potentially disastrous transaction involving a local hockey team. I am speaking of the Rangerks' decision to trade away Ryan Hollweg for a case of Molson Canadian and a half-dozen doughnuts from Tim Hortons.
Obviously, I do not mourn the departure of Cryin' Ryan, but I am slightly concerned about a situation this creates. With Hollweg, Avery, and Jagr now gone, who am I supposed to direct my unnecessarily loud "Douchebag!" toward while watching Islanders-Rangerks games next season? A quick look at the current Rangerks roster leaves the three most likely candidates as Lundqvist, Orr, and Gomez, but I'm having a hard time developing any really intense animosity toward any of those three (Lundqvist will be easiest). And while I certainly have a fair degree of hatred for anyone who puts on the Rangerks jersey, I'm missing someone whose mere presence on Earth makes me angry. Naturally, this has me concerned.
Far be it from me to tell Glen Sather how to run a team, but, really, hasn't Dale "Turtle Power" Purinton been away long enough? Fleury still in playing shape? C'mon, don't let me down.
I was reading a story in the New York PostPage Six magazine (keeping track of Sean Avery's whereabouts) about the multimillionaire in charge of granting medallions to NYC cabdrivers when I came across an interesting nugget. The main crux of the story was that the guy has his own box right above the players' entrance for every event in Madison Square Garden. Yes, every event--Rangers games, Knicks games, concerts, circuses, Ice Capades (they don't still have the Ice Capades, do they? I'm old), whatever he wants. That's how life is when your born into a ridiculously lucrative line of work. Must be nice.
Anyway, back to that interesting nugget. Check this out:
"When MSG offered to put leather captain's chairs in the box, he said no. 'It was too showy.' When they suggested turning his area into a jury box during hockey games by putting a spotlight on the seats and asking his section to give a thumbs up or down on whether or not to pull the goalie, he said, 'No, I don't think fans should be making those decisions.' It's hard to say what's more jaw-dropping. That MSG offered, or that he turned it down."
Seriously? The offer was on the table to have this douche and whomever he brought to the game decide if the Rangers should pull their goalie? That has to be a joke. I would say that the reporter should have confirmed this story with the Garden, but it's the Post (and a ridiculously vapid offshoot of the main paper at that), so that's asking too much. But if this is, in fact, true, it might just represent a new low for the Rangers, or at least a low not seen since the Sassoon days. I'm trying to imagine a stoppage in play with a minute left in the game and the classless baboons in the stands at the Garden turning their eyes to the spotlight that shines on a multimillionaire and his clients who will dictate the team's strategy for the rest of the game.
I don't wanna get all Vogue on the blog, but what the hell is going on on Jaromir Jagr's face?
I'd only noticed the stupid-looking thing on his chin until Game 1's postgame interview, when I realized that it was merely the continuation of the Hitlerian theme started under his nose. That's just horrifying. If I were his teammate (probably not gonna happen, but you never know), I'd take him aside, knock him unconscious (after goading him into trying to throw a punch at me, resulting in him missing wildly and separating his shoulder), and shave whatever that is off for his own good. Or else, to paraphrase "Uncle" Buck Russell (a/k/a Moley Russell's wart), I'd give him a two-dollar Metrocard and tell him to go downtown and have a rat gnaw that thing off his face.
Former Broome Duster Paul Stewart, who once fought the real Ogilthorpe (Goldie Goldthorpe) at a Christmas party, has uttered the defining Sean Avery line, "Sean Avery is like a case of jock rash. It's there, it bothers you, and eventually you have to just play through it."
You'll find it here, in The New Yorker, of all places.
(see amendments to the bottom of the post, 5:57 p.m.)
The ongoing disaster and oh!ffence to the game that is Larry Brooks.
Typically, I am the first to jump on the Canadian media for vilifying what it views as non-traditional markets and dumb American fans (a true fan of the Nashville Predators has to overcome many more obstacles to his fanhood than a Maple Leafs fan living in Hogtown -- a point easily lost on most of the Canadian media), but the reaction this week to the "Avery Clarification" has been overwhelmingly dumb in the States, and remarkably measured and smart in Canada. And this outburst of terrible writing has driven me to do something I'd rather not -- support Gary Bettman, which I found myself doing for a flicker last night during the Wild/Avs game.
Dear Larry Brooks, stop arguing the NHL "changed" the rule or wrote a new rule because of Sean Avery's little goal-crease dance. In a rare moment of clarity and responsiveness, the league clarified an existing rule -- unsportsmanlike conduct -- to include instances such as this, which had never come up before because Sean Avery is the perfect storm of douchebaggery and defies previously held human expectations.
There is no new rule. And, the oh!fficials in the game warned Avery in the act and told him they would call unsportsmanlike if he proceeded. The league simply backed them up post hoc. Even the oh!fficials were right! It's Christmas in hockeyland!
The same writers would have bitched about the league's inactivity and lack of responsiveness if this was ignored.
Sports journalism is a waste.
Another tired argument: This one I saw from Jim Kelley yesterday. He argues you can't call Avery's mime dance a "mockery" in a league allowing face washes, hits on the boards, and various other minor acts of violence throughout the playoffs. Oh, and he remembered to bring up the boot-stomping incidents, which, if I recall, led to significant suspensions for the oh!ffending players. The people who cry when Sean Avery gets the hose because he has a history of being an asshole are the same people who said Chris Simon should be put out on the ice floe because he is a repeat oh!ffender. Well, Sean Avery is a repeat asshole, hence the attention.
Kelley may actually have a good point, but he's not smart enough to know it, and masks it by trying to defend Avery's actions with the "if the league lets everybody do dumb things, they can't single out this dumb thing " argument.
Wrong. That's exactly what leagues (all sporting leagues) and officials are charged with accomplishing. Saying "I agree with Sean Avery because I disagree with Chris Neil" is incongruous and wrong. You deal with these on a case-by-case basis, because they are different actions. I can say, "I think Chris Neil shouldn't be penalized for punching players in the back of the head because I think a moderate level of violence is acceptable in an intense, physical environment, although I think the officials should warn him should he do it more than once; I also think they should take into consideration how hard he punches the player." And that's assuming the officials see him do it, which Kelley doesn't address! Similarly, I can say, "I think Chris Neil should be penalized for throwing a flying elbow at someone's head, as well as I think Dion Phaneuf should have been penalized for head-ramming Patrick Marleau the other night -- because these plays are far more inherently dangerous than face washes and rabbit punches to the back of helmets."
Also, bringing up the Roger Neilson and Hasek incidents is pointless, because the Hasek thing became a rule, and resulted in a near-equal amount of criticism to Hasek at the time. Or, at least consternation. Hasek isn't a petulant asshole, so people didn't accuse him of "mockery," but your history as a player and a person is an integral part of how you are perceived and how you will be dealt with in the working environment. To assume otherwise is baiting the reader.
So, I will say, with that cleared up, "Sean Avery's actions in front of Martin Brodeur constitute unsportsmanslike conduct and are not consistent with the spirit of competition. And because he consistently shows himself to be an asshole, someone big should punch him in the face." That is reasonable. So is calling it a mockery, because he was dancing around like a three-year-old asking for mommy's attention. I've seen it. I know it.
Go Devils.
Amended at 1:19 p.m.
Why I don't write about hockey professionally, Exhibit E
"New Jersey vs. New York Rangers What stands out in this series is Sean Avery's bizarre "Dancing With The Stars" routine with Martin Brodeur in Game 3. There is a term for him -- clown. That kind of stuff, coupled with the detached demeanor Avery seems to have toward the rest of the team's battles, has the potential to drain the Rangers. Maybe I'm reading too much into it, and maybe his teammates are largely ignoring him, but playoff hockey is difficult enough without having to try to manage some out-of-control, fall-out frat boy. It's even worse when he drags Brodeur into his sideshow. He's the Terrell Owens of the NHL, polluting the Rangers with his individuality. Can you imagine what Scott Stevens would have done had he seen Avery waving his stick like a giant windshield wiper in Brodeur's face? That also is partially an indictment of the contsruction of the Devils' roster."
Another amendment, 5:57 p.m.
Dave Maloney is an idiot. He was on HNIC radio using Kelley's "Roger Neilson was considered a genius when he 'tested the limits'" argument.
Yes, he was. Because people did not universally hate Roger Neilson. He was, at times, a creative, sly, and entertaining individual who devised some clever, funny (the flag on the stick), and memorable methods that created some pleasant and memorable memories for hockey fans. Sean Avery says things about players' families and acts like a jerkoff every time he is on the ice. He dives, whines, cries, and wears emo douche clothing. Roger Neilson didn't do these things. He coached hockey, revolutionized advanced scouting, and wore crazy ties.
Comparing Roger Neilson to Sean Avery is stupid. Dave Maloney is stupid. The Rangers suck.
After the Rangers lost to the Devils in the shootout yesterday, I was doubly pleased, because (a) the Rangers lost, which is always exciting, even in a meaningless shootout and (b) the loss meant that, by my accounting, the Islanders won the Hummer Metro Ice Challenge (the Isles and Rangers finished tied in points, but the Isles win on tiebreakers--total wins and won the head-to-head against the Rangers). I know, I know. I shouldn't be excited about things like that. But this season, I will take what I can get.
Then, because I didn't watch the postgame show, I discovered this morning that MSG declared the Rangers the winner and gave their charity the money.
Um, as the kids say, WTF?
Seriously, that's disgraceful. Chris Botta sums it up here. Get outraged, America.
Sometimes when things are at their darkest, God gives you some light.
I don't care if it isn't true. I just hope that Isles fans who will be at the Coliseum for the Rangers' last visit of the season are now crafting their chants. Not since "Crackhead Theo" have we been given such a gift.
This is a hockey bar. We are drinking Molson Canadian and coffee. We are watching the game, tipping the barmaid, and nursing bruises from a noon ball hockey game at the community college. We are three Islanders fans and a Bruins supporter. We are Centre Ice, Slingbox, video games, ball hockey, knee hockey, and AHL games in Hartford, Binghamton, and Bridgeport. We are Canadian spellings and HNIC at the old Ithaca Sports Club. We are a decent penalty kill, a half-dressed Ice Girl, and Butch Goring in a bar fight. We are drunk. Have a seat.
