The Czechs have won the World Championship in Ice Hockey. I realize I’m one of probably five Americans who remotely care and about one of twenty North Americans who noticed, but it was damn cool. Other than beer brewing, being stoic and the making the occasional movie, the Czechs honestly don’t get to ‘be good’ at anything. Not only did they win, but they beat just about one of the most formidable offenses the Russians have ever put together and kept them to one goal. The partisan Russian fan will claim a disallowed goal in the first but that was at least two seconds after the whistle. And I think, as a not-so-neutral observer, that beating the Russians is what makes this so notable. If they beat the Finns, sure I might have written a post, but they beat the RUSSIANS! Or as my friend wrote me, “Russian beasts.” It was cool. And I’m listening to a web cam from the center of Prague as I write this. It makes me feel that being drunk alone in my apartment isn’t so bad after all. Anyway, congratulations to the Czechs, Jagr and the Czech nation. You may still get to hear some of the drunk celebration here. The game was outstanding and I recommend reading up on it here. And there’s a great summary of the rivalry here.
I suppose, as much of a downer as this is, that I should mention Scott Gordon's run as coach of the US team. Not a great finish, but not a great team either. Perhaps in a non-Olympic year where the US has something to prove the team may be different but congratulations to coach Gordon all the same. Here's hoping he gets a second chance next year.
International hockey is cool and we Americans should get used to it. Its an international game with a strong international component. Imagine liking Manchester United and not caring about the soccer World Cup... OK, I realize making soccer references probably hurts my point but still if you like good hockey, keep an eye out for the World Championship next May. Until then, Cesky do toho!
First off, let me state that I don't have time to write all of the reasons... Zing!
Second, this post said so many things that I would like to say but don't or can't. Most of you probably read it already, but this is what sports blogging should look like. To me, at least:
Why does the national hockey coverage turn NHL fans into Tea Partiers? Stupid lame-stream, "gotcha!" media with their New York Slimes and Washington comPost. If I had time or imagination I'd do something with ESPN or Sports Illustrated. I leave that for the comments column.
This idea that our (or my) opinion of the Islanders moves at the deadline is somehow relevant is too much of a stretch for me. Nobody cares if I like the Sutton deal or if I think the team should move Roloson. Even I don't care what I think, if that makes sense. I've got kids to raise, wood to cut, work to do, etc.
And even when I didn't have things to do, there were more important things to sweat, such as "where we going out tonight?", "will it rain or snow for the February garage BBQ?", and "what time should we get there to make sure the goddamn Knicks people, or the college basketball people, don't get the Big TV?"
So as long as the Isles don't trade Okposo or Tavares, or even Comeau, Streit, or (this took me more than a minute to come up with the last name) Hillen, I will keep quiet. Such are the rigors of perspective in my middlin' age.
So what? Providing the team doesn't drop the remainder of the schedule, and with last night's layup line against Chicago pretty much nixing that possibility, I'm going to be happy. And I think we all should be happy. The Mediocre One and I said early in the season that if this team was a surprise and made the playoffs (and I don't think what they are right now qualifies as a surprise -- maybe a mildly pleasant "oh yeah?", but not a surprise), then next year would probably be a disappointment. We envisioned a ninth-place finish, calls for Gordon's head, etc.
So let's assume we are seers ... coming up a nip short of the playoffs this year wouldn't be so bad.
Do you see? What are we even talking about at this point? Good God. I'm going to stop now.
A Final Thought That USA/Canada thing was fun. The Mediocre One called me when Parise scored, and for about 20 seconds I was back in college when all the hockey guys, the Chiefs, sat around at the Ithaca Sports Club and watched the games.
(to the tune of ‘The Battle Hymn of the Republic’) Before I begin, let me state that there are no sour grapes to be had here. I tip my cap to the Canadian team. I even stayed for the medal ceremony and anthem.
I should also acknowledge I was drunk and hungry at the bar courtesy of my friends from California Skyping me when I was trying to get ready to head out to the bar. I had to abandon lunch altogether.
Now that my judgment is completely in question, let me say this: I would go to war with this team USA any day. Even when the Isles were pounding out gritty wins earlier this season, they didn’t look like this team. I know games are decided by goals (as the great Ned Braden once pointed out) but you show me any semblance of a modern team with more guts and heart than team USA. You show me a goalie that is more invested in his team. You show me skaters who are willing to hit, get hit, go to the net as well as fore, back and hip check like this team. The US team wasn’t picked to do a damned thing this Olympics but it’s hard to find a silver medal that comes any closer to being gold than the ones they hung on the dejected American team this afternoon. And I’m not disappointed because medals aside, I am much happier being a fan of the blue-collar effort the Americans put on the past two weeks than any other team in the tournament. Not even close. We had the most exciting team in the world hands down. Bring it on, Sochi.
By the time I was back in the rocking chair with a beer and watching the replay of the game on Time Warner Sports, I was a little sad.
End of winter? I'll mark that with a smile.
Coming down from the high of screaming along with 21,000+ mostly upstaters as a man parachuted to center ice to the theme from Rocky? Maybe.
But I don't think that's it.
I think I was a little sad because I was tired, and because the AHL's first-ever outdoor game was perfectly emblematic of the AHL I grew up with, perfectly emblematic of the cities that truly speak to the AHL's history, and perfectly emblematic of everything I love about hockey. And some of the things I don't.
It was ugly as piss. And it was everything we could have hoped for.
The New York State Fairgrounds is a gravel-strewn conglomeration of drab, utilitarian buildings bordered on one side by highway ramps, on another side by a nearly depopulated borderline city neighborhood, and marked at the entrance by a sign for Crucible Steel, a historic polluter that destroyed nearby Onondaga Lake.
We walked through and around the whole thing on our way into the game. Snow mounds, slush puddles, broken roads, tailgating fans, beer cans, piles of scrap metal, and finally, the gravel road to the dirt track grandstand.
I live outside of all of this, in a little place called Tully, where the natives have an Ice Harvest Festival and play very well at being the kind of town Garrison Keillor could adopt as his home and exploit for professors and professional students the world over.
But I am from Binghamton, which fittingly provided the opponent for the outdoor game, and which knows ugly and forgotten. Not all of it, of course, just like Syracuse, but enough that if you grow up with your eyes even partially open, you will have an understanding of the most powerful of the community-destroying effects of the global economy.
So that was there. The long dreary moan.
But there was also this.
I'm going to refer to him only as Ray Fucking Maynard, because he provided what has to be the sort-of sporting highlight of the year: Landing his USA parachute at almost-center ice to the partying roar of 21,000+ fall-drown drunks, Camaro-driving white sneaker-wearing AHL lifers, and all in all happy as fuck hockey fans. And he did it to this.
Ray Fucking Maynard.
You can dig around a little for a game recap and other analysis including the passionate booing given to Gov. Paterson, the early rock 'em sock 'em fight between Mirasty and Yablonski, and the "it was so cool" quotes from players.
But here, you get the cheese doodle guy.
And you get us with Bobby Nystrom.
The Rev. on the left, a four-time Cup winner in the middle, and Mr. Bad Example on the right
And you get us standing 10 feet from the boards, taking advantage of a clear lapse of security/planning, smelling skank fucking ass weed and hanging out with the drunkest of the drunk.
It was fun. Kick ass classic rock and canadian beer fun. There have been a few complaints (very few) about the drunks (we didn't see any fights and everyone actually seemed as jovial as could be considering some of them had been tailgating since the wee hours) and the parking (it was shitty, but so what? We walked a little, it kept us warm), but overall the reception has been glowing and grand. As it should be.
It's already taken on a sort of "you were there?" quality, not surprising because things like this don't happen often enough up here (Syracuse hoops doesn't count, mostly because, well, it's basketball). And I'm happy I was there.
I'm happy I can tell people about walking through the dirt track tunnels on the way back to the car, watching drunks and not-so-drunks falling on a sheet of uneven ice in the dark and then climbing up stepped-on, uneven mounds of snow to get out of the tunnel.
I'm happy I was there when a "security" person told the crowd we were standing with to "get off the platform," to which one reveler said "no comprende," and the security guy, who looked like an extra from Fargo, proceeded to re-deliver his instructions in four languages. Here in Internet land I believe we say "win."
I'm happy I was there to see it. I saw a few people I knew from high school. I saw a few people on the verge of hypothermia. I saw Bobby Nystrom. I saw the best fight I've ever seen. I saw a big ass hockey party bringing some happiness to the middle of February in one of the most depressing physical settings on the non-warring, non-Third World earth.
I'm glad I saw it all. And now I think I'm ready for spring.
It takes a special kind of person to want to spend a winter afternoon in central New York watching a minor-league hockey game at a state fairgrounds. Lucky for you, the Reverend Zamboni and Mr. Bad Example are special kinds of people. And, so, here are some of the sights and, as a special bonus to you, Faithful Reader (and we use that not as an all-encompassing term, but as an actual description of the one person still likely reading this blog), some words to describe the sights of the Mirabito AHL Outdoor Classic between the Syracuse Crunch and the Binghamton Senators.
After an attempt to sidestep the lines for parking, a subsequent detour through scenic Solvay, NY, and our eventual decamping in a less busy though significantly less close parking lot on the New York State Fairgrounds, we headed into the game around noon, picking up our complimentary Outdoor Classic towels as we entered. We soon checked out our seats for the day.
Not too shabby for $30. For $30, I imagine I could have sat on the sidewalk at the House of Blues and listened to the NHL Winter Classic at Fenway, so this wasn't bad at all. We hung around the seats long enough to throw a blanket down and then went to soak in some atmosphere on the ground level. Soon after we got down there, the glass behind the goal shattered during warmups.
It didn't look like anyone got a glass shower, but there was no time to confirm, because I needed my picture on the Ice Throne. So I, a 33-year-old man, queued up behind a group of children to ascend the Ice Throne. They could've sped things up, but I think it was worth the wait.
After our Star Time with Bobby Nystrom, we were turned away from cutting through the VIP area to get to the other end of the ice (where the hot tub was...no kidding), so we headed back to our seats. The start of the game was delayed a bit as they replaced the glass, but soon the pomp and circumstance began. Special guests (including Nystrom and former Sabres Danny Gare and Rob Ray) were introduced and then the mike was handed to Governor David Paterson who, judging by the crowd reaction, might want to rethink his upcoming gubernatorial campaign. I have heard politicians booed before, but, good lord, never with such passion. He aint my governor (we've got our own problems in Jersey), but based on the interview I saw on the game telecast later that night, in which he said he grew up watching the Islanders win the cups and, then, "nothing much has happened there since" (or something like that), I'll boo him the next time I see him, too.
Once the puck was dropped, we realized that it was a bit of a struggle to see the ice, particularly on the near-side boards. So we looked around for better vantage points. Then we were interrupted by this:
Even the linesman loved it.
At the first TV timeout (and after Alexandre Picard's goal for the Crunch), we moved to the general admission bleachers, which were a potential-lawsuit-safe distance away from the ice, which meant they were practically in Auburn (shoutout to Prison City). But at least we could see more of the ice now. Of course, it's hard to focus on the game when the guy in front of you is wearing a hat and jacket covered with Cheez Doodles. You will only find that sort of lunatic at an outdoor game in central New York, where the people are a special kind of crazy that is rarely seen in the rest of the human race.
Since we were pretty far away from the ice, I went on a reconnaissance mission to see what the situation by the boards was. As near as we could figure, no one anticipated that, if you left the area around the boards unimpeded by any sort of barricade, people would just park themselves right on the glass to watch the game. But they did. And so we did for the entire second and third period.
Despite the brisk winds, most of the crowd stayed until the bitter end, watching the hometown Crunch take a 2-1 victory. They were rewarded by being given the opportunity (or perhaps just taking the opportunity) to walk out with boxes of the giveaway Dunkin' Donuts plastic cups as they headed back to their cars. The final entertainment of the day was the Great Slip and Fall that took place in the tunnel that was on the way to the parking lot. We saw about five people go down hard (and a bunch more come close) amid a constant chorus of "Whoa!"s from the drunken hockey lovers of central New York. I probably would've paid $30 just to watch that. (So you don't think I'm completely heartless, everyone that hit the ground--including the guy behind us who turfed out with a sickening thud--bounced right back up. Here's to the resilience of the hockey fan! And the numbing effects of alcohol!)
So, for $30 plus fees, we got to hang with Bobby Nystrom for a few minutes, see a skydiver brave the Syracuse winds to drop onto the rink, watch two-thirds of a pretty competitive AHL game about ten feet from the ice, see an awesome hockey fight, and watch drunk people fall down. Plus my body didn't start shaking involuntarily from the cold at any point (that Inauguration 2008 training came in handy).
A pretty damn good day. And another reason why hockey (and the AHL) kicks ass.
We've got jobs and things to do (and I had to go to a Sam Moore concert last night), but one or both of us will get something extensive up about the Outdoor Classic by Tuesday. A brief summary to whet the appetite:
*It was cold.
*We got our picture taken with Bobby Nystrom.
*We watched most of the game standing about 10 feet away from the glass.
*We watched some of the game behind a guy wearing a hat and jacket covered artistically with Cheez Doodles.
*People really don't like Governor David Paterson.
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.
