The Rewards of Fandom

Though I stand by my statement that this past season (and it is exciting to refer to it as past) was not nearly the worst I've experienced as an Islanders fan, I would be foolish to admit that it wasn't a tough one. It's not exciting to see the team you like finish dead last, and to have to hear the subsequent derisive (I'm using big words so the Rangers fans don't read this) comments from fans of teams who are in the playoffs. It's not easy to sit through a season of trash talking when you don't really have a great comeback. It's not fun to receive an e-mail from Ticketmaster breathlessly urging you to "Score great Playoffs seats & cheer your team to the Stanley Cup,' which I received on Friday.

But if you can make it through all that and still stick around, you will be rewarded. I know this now, because I got my reward Friday night, when The Mediocre One and I attended game 1 of the Bridgeport Sound Tigers-Wilkes-Barre/Scranton AHL playoff series at the Nassau Coliseum (lovingly described by a drunken fan wearing a Mick Vukota jersey at the last Islanders game we went to as "like a Kiss concert in 1978").

We got to the game a little late and missed the first goal, but luckily our arrival to our third-row corner seats ($19 each!) didn't disturb anyone. This was mainly because there weren't that many people to disturb and the people behind us were the most annoying bunch of children I've ever sat near at a hockey game. Toward the end of the game, one of them revealed himself as a Rangers fan and started debating that the Rangers' legacy was more storied than the Islanders and, for a second there, it seemed like the man in the front row was going to lose it. But he kept himself in check, though he was probably tired from yelling at the guy in the Gretzky Rangers hat, who, incongruously, seemed to be a Sound Tigers---or at least a Pascal Morency--fan. That man also withstood a confrontation with Sparky.



Another top-notch fan in our section was right up against the glass. And, at several points during the game, particularly in the pre-period skates, also up against the glass was his Yankees hat. For reasons neither TMO nor I could figure out, he would press his Yankees hat against the glass, bang on the glass, and try to get players to respond. The Mediocre One first saw this behavior while I was walking on the concourse prior to the second period (and what a walk it was...just wait). He said Jon Sim was the recipient of the Yankee Treatment, and it was one of the more confusing things he's ever seen. It sounded odd to me, but the true oddness of it didn't settle in until I saw it for myself prior to the third period. The Yankees fan got a couple of guys to look over and then hit paydirt when Penguin Paul Bissonette skated by, took a look at the hat, and then seemed to get angrier as he skated away. And by the time he was on the other side of the ice, he was yelling at the Yankees fan and was visibly upset. You probably had to be there, but it was one of the funnier (and odder) things I've seen at a hockey game.



But let's get back to my reward. No, it wasn't a Sound Tiger victory (they lost 3-2 and, in fact, lost Game 2 as well and now head to Wilkes-Barre/Scranton tonight down 2-0). No, it wasn't hearing the "Sound Tiger Rowwwwwwwrrrrrrr" that is heard in Bridgeport when a Sound Tiger scores (they foolishly didn't bring that sound effect to Long Island). No, it wasn't seeing Kyle Okposo skate up close and see how strong he is on his skates (he dragged a guy almost all the way down the boards after he was checked in the offensive zone). No, my reward came as I was heading back to my seat as the second period began. The Mediocre One had decided to stay in his seat, so I was alone when I came around a bend and spotted The Man.



Yessir, last Friday night, I met Mitch Fritz.

He was taking pictures with kids as I came near (the above GQ photo was snapped after one of the kid photos, as I tried to control my excitement), and I debated just how embarrassing it would be to grab a total stranger on the concourse and ask that person to take a picture of me and Mr. Fritz. Then I realized that I had just essentially had him pose for a picture on the concourse, so how much more embarrassing could a picture with him possibly be? So I headed to what I think was a father and son, and the son obliged (I'm not sure they even knew who the other guy was, as hard as that may be to believe). After the photo, I managed to sputter out something that went like this:

Me: Man, you're, like, a hero, on our blog.

Mr. Mitch Fritz: What's that?

Me: My friends and I have a blog called the Palm Isle. It's a "Slap Shot" reference.

Mr. Mitch Fritz: Oh, cool.

Me: Yeah, and at the beginning of the season, I decided that you had the perfect chantable name.

Mr. Mitch Fritz: Yeah, I've heard that.

Me: All right, cool. Thanks. I hope you're back next year.

Mr. Mitch Fritz: Yeah, me too.




While I hope the Sound Tigers rebound and I get a chance to see them play again this year, if Friday night was the last hockey game I see this season, at least it ended on a high note.

Mitch Fritz! (Clap! Clap!) Mitch Fritz! (Clap! Clap!)

From a Bubblehead to a Bobblehead

How do you follow up Ron Duguay Night? Easy. You head to Jeff Tambellini Bobblehead Night in Bridgeport.

I'm neither a huge bobblehead collector (the collection consists of a generic Mexican wrestler, Endy Chavez, and baseball play-by-play guy Warner Fusselle) nor really that much of a Jeff Tambellini fan (I want to be, really I do, especially since he wears my lucky number, 15), but I figured I'd make a hockey weekend out of it and take in the Sound Tigers' third game in three nights. Sunday's game found the Islanders JV taking on the Buffalo Sabres' farm team, the Portland Pirates. And, since I've been following the lineup for a few weeks, I was fully prepared for Mitch Fritz being a healthy scratch—not happy, but prepared.



I really like going out to Bridgeport (mainly because of the easy access via Metro-North, but also to see how the young guys—or, this season, just the guys—are doing), but since it is a bit of a hike from home base (about two hours door-to-door), I'm usually best served by the Sunday games, which have an earlier start time. Unfortunately, because this is the AHL, the Sunday game is usually a club's third in three nights, so play can be a little sluggish. This game started off well enough, though, with the Sound Tigers putting three on the board in the first period, and new Sound Tiger Robin Figren picking up his first AHL point. I'd briefly met Figren, a 2006 Isles draft pick, at the thoroughly depressing 2008 Draft Party at the Coliseum, so it was kind of cool to be there when he made it on the score sheet for the first time. He's still clearly feeling his way in the new league and he looks like a kid out there (he's only 20, so that makes sense), but, with any luck, good times are ahead for him.



The score at the end of the first was 3-1, with the Pirates' goal coming off some sloppy play in his own zone by the man who now officially (I'm the official, in case you were wondering) has "Poor" added to his name. I am, of course, referring to Poor Jon Sim, the man who has been waived twice and will likely be spending the rest of the season and the playoffs on the Sound Tigers (he's been piling up the goals since being sent down, though...he has 8 in 10 games). I liked Sim as an Islander and, while I understand that he doesn't fit in Gordon's youth movement, he always seemed like a decent, hard-working guy. It's hard to believe that no NHL team could use a guy like him (and I reckon he feels the same), and I can't imagine that PJS is thrilled to be toiling in the AHL at this point in his career (perhaps he can be the poster boy for a new "Dying in Bridgeport" ad campaign to bookend the "Born in Bridgeport" one. I hope good times are ahead—somewhere, anywhere on the NHL—for him, too.

Hewing close to the Islander work ethic, the Sound Tigers decided to take most of a period off—in this case, the second, where Portland scored two as the Islanders JV did little to stop them. But after killing off a five-on-three, the Sound Tigers got a power-play goal themselves, with Jeremy Colliton finding Sean Bentivoglio as he was sprung from the penalty box. That goal turned out to be the decisive one, as the third period got a little sluggish on both ends. But during the third period, I did spot Mitch Fritz up in one of the boxes, so that was a highlight. I also spent some of the game hoping to spot winning goaltender Peter Mannino's hot girlfriend, but no such luck.



I actually had the opportunity to get a genuine Mitch Fritz game-worn training camp jersey in the silent auction, but when bidding got into the $200 range, I realized that dream was not going to come true (apparently Fritz is way more popular than Jon Hein). I also passed on waiting to get Jeff Tambellini to sign the bobblehead because it was a long line and the trains only run once an hour (and if I took the later train, I wouldn't have been able to see who got booted off the "Rock of Love Bus"...fare thee well, Beverly). Plus, if it were signed, I'd feel much worse next year when I throw the bobblehead against the floor after Tambellini misses an open net. So I snapped this photo of him and Andrew MacDonald instead.



I nearly fell asleep reading on the train, as the hours of train and bus riding started to take its toll (I was continuing my valiant effort to read a complete David Foster Wallace book, though, so I may have drifted off to sleepyland regardless). But it felt good to have ignored March Madness and celebrated a hockey weekend instead.

Who needs brackets when you've got a 51-year-old guy with feathered hair and a bobblehead?

Rhetorical question. No need to answer.

Dr. Hook and the Mitch Fritz Show

Upon visiting the Bridgeport Sound Tigers' website last week, I saw that Paul D'Amato, a/k/a Tim "Dr. Hook" McCracken of "Slap Shot" fame, was due to appear at that Saturday's Sound Tigers game to sign autographs. I quickly sent out an e-mail to The Mediocre One, as well as two lowercase mediocre ones (or, as they are also known, Rangers fans) to gauge interest in a trip to Bridgeport. I'd been itching to get to a Sound Tigers game, since I hadn't been yet this season, and this seemed like as good an occasion as any, even if it meant missing a dual-accordion concert in Brooklyn featuring an alumnus from the Official Palm Isle Alma Mater.

Not surprisingly, the Mediocre One was the only one to jump at the opportunity; I can only assume the Rangers fans were home baking muffins for their hero. So, after a brief flirtation with going to see Mr. D'Amato (along with Chris "Hanrahan" Murney and Andy "Tim Carr" Duncan) at the Coliseum on Thursday (which turned out to be a double-super-secret appearance not promoted or even really encouraged by the Islanders), we were off to Bridgeport to see Mitch Fritz's Sound Tigers take on the Wilkes-Barre/Scranton Penguins in a battle for second place in the East.


The Mediocre One picked me up in Woodside, where I'd arrived from Philadelphia after a Friday night Jason Isbell concert, and we headed for I-95. The Mediocre One is easily a bigger "Slap Shot" fan than I (I'm a "Slap Shot 2" kind of guy...I keed), and he and the Reverend Zamboni (perhaps you remember him from the good old days here, before he abandoned us for the cold embrace of the Central New York winter and the love and adulation of his twice-monthly Puck Daddy fantasy-hockey column) are members of the legendary Ithaca College intramural floor hockey Charlestown Chiefs franchise. And, as a member of the team, the Mediocre One wanted to make sure he wouldn't be the only Chief to have a Dr. Hook autograph. That meant that he came fully prepared with not only DVDs but also a stack of Dr. Hook photos printed on his computer. Ten of them. We were hopeful that Mr. D'Amato wouldn't be charging a hefty fee for his signature.

We got to the Harbor Yard about a half-hour before gametime and found what seemed to be a sizable crowd getting ready to head into the arena. Still, because it's minor-league hockey, we were able to pick up center-ice seats, about twelve rows back, for $28 a pop. We could've gotten cheaper tickets, but I like to support the Sound Tigers as best as I can. And considering similar seats at the Coliseum are probably about three times as much (and, let's face it, the Isles are really the Sound Tigers varsity at this point), it was still a helluva deal.


We spotted the Dr. Hook table soon after entering and after scoping out the merch situation (signed 8X10s, pucks, and t-shirts were available for $10, $15, and $20, respectively, and there appeared to be no fee if you brought stuff to sign), we decided to head to our seats and come back later.



After the excitement of seeing Mitch Fritz in person subsided (never gets old) and the first period ended, we headed to the concourse to complete Operation McCracken. While the Mediocre One was in the can, I bought a Syracuse Bulldogs puck and got it signed, capping off the experience with this swell photo.


And then came the Mediocre One's turn, after he bought $20 of raffle tickets for the McCracken jersey, in a goodwill gesture for the monster autograph signing that was about to take place.


The Mediocre One opted for a split session, getting the DVDs signed first and letting the line die down before hitting him with the photos (all class, that kid, though I did give him some coaching based on my sadly vast autograph experiences). So, after talking with the guy in charge of the Slap Shot fan pages on MySpace and Facebook (nice guy...I forget his name; TMO has his business card) he headed back to the table when things subsided and hit him with the stack (not literally). Mr. D'Amato was awfully nice about it, happily signing and personalizing the photos as TMO made sure to get all his Chiefs (well, the important ones) covered.


And, since we were on a roll and had obtained 14 autographs from Mr. D'Amato, we kidnapped him and took him back to the Mediocre Estate, to watch "Slap Shot," partake in a couple of rounds of Scattergories, and play Super Mario Kart on the Wii.

OK, you got me. We didn't. But seriously, Paul D'Amato's a good (and patient) dude. Check out his website and buy a signed photo (or ten) if you're so inclined.


With all that taken care of, we could enjoy the game, which wound up being a pretty good one. It was hard not to just watch the awesomeness of Mitch Fritz the whole game (the man seems to be forever taking notes about whose ass he might have to kick later in the game), but the rest of the Tigers played well and had things well under control, until an incident with 6:16 left in the third. After a play stoppage, there was some jawing at the benches involving Fritz, and the next thing we knew Fritz was heading back to the locker room and the Penguins had five minutes of power play time. What the?

Because the PA announcer likes to not be too vocal when announcing penalties, I originally thought that Fritz got an unsportsmanlike, but I see today that he was called for the equally baffling butt-ending (prior to the play stoppage, I guess, since I didn't see him butt-ending anyone at the bench). Don't see that called every day. In fact, I'm not sure when the last time I saw a butt-ending call was, particularly with six minutes left in a one-goal game.

No matter. The Sound Tigers killed off the five minutes (only one shot on goal) and took the 3-2 victory and possession of second place. The two teams are playing again tonight, and I'm watching it as I write this on the free AHL Live preview. Nice.


And that wraps up another successful Palm Isle road trip. I hope to provide you another Sound Tigers report after I attend Jeff Tambellini Bobblehead Night later this month.

15 games?

Granted, this is a short clip and you don't see the elbow from Portland's Geoff Peters or the hits the Sound Tigers' Pascal Morency delivered that apparently earned him Peters's elbow, but I can't imagine how Kip Brennan gets suspended 15 games for this:



Like Chris Simon, Brennan has a history of suspensions, and I have to figure this played a part in giving him 15 games for basically coming to the defense of his teammate. Sure, he attacks him from behind (and breaks Peters's nose in the process), but I've gotta think that when you're standing over a player on the opposing team after elbowing him, you oughta be aware that someone's coming after your ass. It's hockey. These things tend to happen. I'm just saying. I could see five games, maybe, but 15? Crazy, man, crazy.

And, besides, that's a helluva punch.

Hard Times

Somewhere in between coming home Thursday night to find that the Isles somehow lost to the Kings at home and watching Bill Guerin make a criminally bad pass on the power play against the Canadiens, I realized that we have officially reached that point in the Isles season. After a few months of overachieving, the wheels start to come off and I have to make the decision of wanting to see the Isles make the playoffs or just hoping that they stop playing entirely and save me the money I would spend on a playoff ticket.

I know, I know. I shouldn't give up. I should always stick by the Islanders. And I do. It's not like I'm gonna become a Rangers fan instead. I still have a soul (and a reasonably working set of male genitals). It's just that if this is how the Islanders are going to play to start off a playoff run, well maybe I could, you know, get a different hobby for the next few months and make travel plans for the late spring. The Isles' offensive "attack" is so awful that whenever they go down a goal, I start to feel like the game is over. More importantly, it looks like the Isles have decided the same. If I have to see the vacant, slack-jawed looks on Satan and Vasicek's faces for another game, I'm taking a hostage (note to authorities: just kidding). Ditto for the standard shot of Bergeron sitting on the bench looking pissed about the mistake he just made. And Guerin, God bless him, well after that pass that led to the shorthanded goal the other afternoon, I may have said some very untoward things about him and the similarity he bears to a feminine hygiene product. A lot. I'm not apologizing.

A look at the Isles' schedule for the last month of the season alternately gives me hope and makes me want to get my doctor to prescribe me some more anti-anxiety pills. To wit:

Tue Mar 4, 2008  Islanders v. Rangers
Thu Mar 6, 2008  Rangers v. Islanders
Sat Mar 8, 2008  Islanders v. Flyers
Tue Mar 11, 2008  Islanders v. Lightning
Wed Mar 12, 2008  Islanders v. Panthers
Sat Mar 15, 2008  Islanders v. Canadiens
Tue Mar 18, 2008  Maple Leafs v. Islanders
Fri Mar 21, 2008  Islanders v. Devils
Sun Mar 23, 2008  Islanders v. Flyers
Mon Mar 24, 2008  Penguins v. Islanders
Thu Mar 27, 2008  Islanders v. Penguins
Sat Mar 29, 2008  Flyers v. Islanders
Tue Apr 1, 2008  Devils v. Islanders
Thu Apr 3, 2008  Rangers v. Islanders
Fri Apr 4, 2008  Islanders v. Rangers 

Not a lot of easy wins there. And four games against the Rangerks, including a season-ending home-and-home. Oh boy.

So, I guess what I'm saying is that if this team has any heart, now would be a good time to start showing it. Maybe the Tambellini and Nielsen callups will get things going. Maybe Comrie stops auditioning for the role of Jason Blake and starts making better decisions with the puck. Maybe DiPietro finally gets rewarded with some wins.

The Rangers fans are barking, guys. Time to get going.

[On a positive note, Kip Brennan got called up, too. Maybe he'll get to kick some ass. Or rip a fan's shirt off.]

Gettin' around

While the other denizens of the Palm Isle were holding things down indoors, I spent the last few weekends out and about on hockey-related expeditions. And here's the happy recap (sorry for the baseball reference...I can't think of how Howie Rose teases a recap, though I sure as heckfire know that "damn" isn't part of it):

Saturday, January 12: To mark the closing weekend of the Pond at Bryant Park in NYC, a swell group of former NHLers took to the ice to skate with what I assume were the largely oblivious masses. Clark Gillies, Bob Nystrom, Gerry Hart, Benoit Hogue, and Rod Gilbert (one of these things is not like the other...) were introduced to the crowd by a gentleman who called Gerry Hart "Gary" (leading to a later debate at the autograph tent of whether the guy signing autographs was Gerry Hart or Garry Howatt), Benoit Hogue "Benoit Hague," and the hockey team from Buffalo the "SAH-brays." Twice. Good to see they got a hockey fan to do the job.

I didn't skate, ostensibly because the line was too long but mainly because I didn't want to fall in front of Gillies and Nystrom. Instead I queued up with the rest of the nonathletes on the autograph line, where I was regaled with stories of hotel collecting success (if I get really bored one weekend, maybe I'll do that and report back to you) and eBay finds. Finally, the players made their way over, and the signing began. I added Nystrom to my signed John Tonelli 8X10, got Gillies, Hart, and Hogue to sign an Isles puck, and accepted a signed postcard from Gilbert, who, I was told by the collectors in line, has turned into a big jerkoff. I have a soft spot for Gilbert, because he was always nice to my dad when he worked at the Garden, so I didn't want to believe that he was a prick. But then he greeted the request of the guy behind me to sign his mini Rangers stick with "I don't sign those things." Meaning, I guess, that he doesn't sign them unless you pay him to. Friggin' Rangers.

The line was so short that I had a rare bright idea: get the pictures printed off my memory card at the Kinko's across the street and get back on line to get them signed. Bob Nystrom saluted my ingenuity as I made my way through the line for a second time. Or at least he said something vaguely complementary to someone who might be a stalker. And then he signed the group photo, which has a hot shot of some Nystrom ass because he turned around at the moment I took the picture (really, I swear), saying "I just wanted you to get my better side." Good times.




Sunday, January 13: After Saturday's successful day, I figured I'd keep the fun going by hopping on the Metro-North to see the Sound Tigers play their third game in three days, and their second against the Binghamton Senators. And, of course, this afforded me the opportunity to see our Blessed Savior Kyle Okposo in his third professional game. Let us pause to celebrate his presence on earth:



As you can see, it was camo jerseys for Armed Forces Day at the Harbor Yard. A list of those from Connecticut who have lost their lives in Iraq and Afghanistan was read before the puck was dropped, and the whole arena went completely silent, save for the gasps that accompanied those whose ages were 19 and 20. A crowd's silence during such a moment would seem like a given, but since the PA announcer at the Coliseum had to say "Please refrain from shouting" before a moment of silence at yesterday's game, it aint always a sure thing. And people in Bridgeport did start chanting "U-S-A!" afterward, but, to their credit, maybe the Iron Sheik and Nikolai Volkoff were in the building.

Anyway, the game was pretty slow going, and Okposo looked like a guy who was playing his third game in as many days, so it was hard to get all excited. But I did get a front-row seat next to the penalty box, so at least I had a good view of the nonaction. And I was close when Drew Fata got pummeled by Matt Carkner in a fight. So that's something.

The Sound Tigers lost 3-1 and I didn't win a camo jersey in the auction. Still, I got to see Okposo. I can imagine the excitement in previous years when Isles fans got to see a young Brett Lindros. Or Scott Scissons. Or Dean Chynoweth. I should stop.

Sunday, January 20: What better way to spend NFL Conference Championship Sunday in New England than meeting Hockey Hall of Famer Johnny Bower at a sports collectibles store in Saugus, MA? My friends DJ and Wendy live just minutes away, so I figured it wasn't too much of an imposition to ask them to drive me over to the store before we headed to DJ's friend Chris's house to watch the Pats game.

If you don't know why I would want to meet Johnny Bower, all you need to do is read this from the above link:

"Bower, like his other five Original Six brethren, became famous for his fearless play. Maskless, he never shied away from an attacking player and in fact patented the most dangerous move a goalie can make - the poke-check. Diving head-first into the skates of an attacking player at full speed, Bower would routinely flick the puck off that player's stick and out of harm's way. One time he got a skate in his cheek, knocking a tooth out through his cheek. He suffered innumerable cuts to his mouth and lips and lost virtually every tooth in his mouth from sticks and pucks, but almost to his last game, he never wore a mask."

That's enough to forgive him for being a Ranger.

When we got to the store, I noticed another guy signing stuff next to Bower. Turns out the store added former Bruin and (sigh) Ranger Derek Sanderson to the signing, so I got an 8X10 signed by both of them (and also picked up a signed Willie O'Ree puck while I was there, because it was the day after the Bruins tribute and the puck was only $15). Then, the fun began when I handed my camera off to one of the guys at the store to take a picture of me and Sanderson. I guess I tripped the wheel of the camera to the movie function when I pulled the camera out of my pocket, which led to two three-second videos of me posing awkwardly next to Sanderson. Then the problem was solved, and the picture was taken.



But after that, Sanderson took an interest in my camera. I then spent some time explaining the camera to him, finding it odd that he was so interested. He was particularly hung up on the movie function, and after I explained it, saying that the screen is always running, but the movie doesn't start until someone clicks the button, he said, "Oh, so that's how they get those videos out there." Yeah," I replied. "YouTube and all that." Then I moved over to Bower, who is clearly awesome and has an old-time hockey face you have to love, and got the picture with him.



I wandered around the store a bit, as I can't just go in and out of a place that has autographs on the walls and in racks and cases all around the store. So I'm looking at stuff when Sanderson comes out from behind the counter.

"Hey. Show me that movie thing again with the sound."

"Well, I don't have any on here that have sound on them, but..."

And then he explained why he was so interested. I guess he had been having a conversation with another guy about an actor that he didn't want on the Web anywhere. I honestly didn't even hear the conversation, let alone film it, and if you think I'm even mentioning the person he was talking about, you're crazier than I thought, which, since you're actually reading this blog, is pretty, pretty crazy.

Anyway, he was nice about it, just concerned. Of course, after I told him that there was nothing on the camera and all was resolved, another guy chimed in with "Yeah, that's what he says." The same guy added, "He can still fight, y'know," to which Sanderson said, jokingly (I hope), "Oh, it'd be worse than that." And we all shared a laugh. Ha ha ha.

The lesson here: If you see Derek Sanderson around, don't film him, kids. That's one to grow on.

And with that, I'll wrap up my first post here. Welcome. We're all Palm Islanders.