Off-Speed Pitches

 

First, thanks to Hardcore Sports on Sirius 98 for including me in today’s conversation.  Looking forward to doing it again sometime soon, it was fun.

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On the heels of a borderline intelligent post, let’s bring this blog back to reality.  Some crucial business:

The Nintendo Wii: Is the point to come full-circle so I’m actually just playing tennis?  They’ve added some new feature with a gyroscope that tracks your movements better so your character does exactly what you do on-screen.  What’s the deal here people?

In a few years they’re going to add the feeling of a ball hitting a racquet, that way we’ll be able to have all the benefits of playing tennis, while still not having to socialize with anyone.  Congrats on the… progress?

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I think yuppies get a bad rap. 

That, or I’m on my way to becoming one.  My point is this – I really like nice things.  Don’t you?

It would be hard to go back to driving my Geo Tracker now that I drive an Altima Coupe.  I don’t think I could go back to drinking six dollar whiskey now that I’ve had Crown Royal.  The only leap I haven’t made is to a fancy phone, and it’s an inevitable jump I can’t wait to make.

So maybe I won’t need to part my hair at the side, change my name to Chet and rock sweater-vests, but if loving nice stuff is in Yuppieville, then pack the U-Haul and change my zip code.

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I gotta show the Toronto Blue Jays some love.

The boys just dusted up the White Sox for a little sweeparoo, and have officially sent me into the Canucks realm of “this is going to be really disappointing when it doesn’t pan out”. 

That damn division is stupid strong, but at 27 – 14, this group of shouldn’t-be’s look like a finely tuned group of actually-are’s.  Let’s hop on Sniders back and ride these guys all the way to the soul-crushing defeat at the hands of the Skankees in September!

Oh, and PS, the Mets are leading their division too.  No big deal.  Everybody remain calm. 

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Reliever Will Ohman made this hilarious comment about the recent female-fertility-drug-bust of teammate Manny Ramirez:  “For a guy going into his second trimester, he looks great.  He’s barely showing”. 

Hilarious.

My interview today was about athletes and how limited they are in what they’re allowed to say, with me preaching that they need more leeway.  Then, my favourite talk sports show, Pardon The Interruption, posed the question “Fair or Foul” on the comment.  I was disappointed, until they answered, by praising the humour in it.  I love you more each day, PTI.

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Science time!  Why do frozen perogies not float?  Cooked perogies float.  Ice floats.  But frozen perogies don’t? 

Explain (and show your work).

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So, between re-locating, house-buying, job-hunting, and working towards the Hockey Greats Fantasy Camp, I’m a little occupado (as is the misses, who’s also finishing her Masters).

Why I continue to spend time blogging, I’m not sure – so thanks for justifying it with your support, and further feeding my narcissism.  Hits continue to increase!

Enjoy Pens-Carpetbaggers tonight, I’ll break it down tomorrow!

The Truth Doesn't Always Hurt

 

The hypocrisy of honesty is an interesting mainstay in our society.

From telling kids “real beauty is on the inside” like Jim Carrey admits is garbage in Liar Liar, to our own personal relationships, where we agree it’s just easier to tell our large, pregnant wives that they look great, for fear of the backlash - we allow certain levels of untruth.

I just read the first chapter of Kevin Sites book “In The Hot Zone”, where he spends time alone in 20 war zones over the span of one year.  Sites had a crazy incident in Fallujah a couple years ago where he happened to videotape a Marine shooting an unarmed, wounded insurgent in the back of the head.

He faced a dilemma – release the tape to NBC, his employer (who was in a media pool, agreeing to release the tape to other news stations), and risk the backlash (losing trust from the Marines, backlash from the insurgents with suicide bombings, being labeled anti-American…), or act like it never happened and bury it.

Sites released a slightly cleaner version where the video pauses before the actual shooting, but the sound carries on.  Viewers aren’t confused about the outcome.

He was under a journalistic code of ethics – seek and report the truth (he adds that few outside the profession realize the disclaimer while minimizing harm).  Hate mail and death threats later, it’s obvious his life could have been easier without telling the truth, but he had the courage to relate it to the world.

So I got to thinking.

UnderScore on Sirius 98 asked me to interview partly to discuss maintaining a personality in sports, where the professionals are so often groomed in PR training (every team I ever played for gave a list of advice, safe answers, and things to avoid saying).

But in the context of Kevin Sites (and the other stories he tells, like the one about Eddie Adams, the award-winning photographer in Vietnam who says he “killed a General” by capturing him doing what he shouldn’t have done – leading to the Generals downfall), …is “bulletin board material” that big of a deal, hockey players?

Do we have to spend time training our athletes to watch what they say?  Would it be such a crisis to hear Sidney Crosby say “of course we’re going to beat Philly, Biron is awwwwful… you’ve seen the guy play!”

I loved the interview with Calvin Borel after he won the Kentucky Derby – tears and honesty everywhere.  Before the Preakness they asked him about his chances, and he straight faced told them he was going to win, and he was sure of it. 

It was so refreshing.  Clearly, jockeys don’t undergo the same type of media training, or scrutiny.  Bob Costas looked caught-off-guard by the actual honest answer, and could barely stammer out a response.

The truth here, is that we’re just. playing. sports.

Some things are better left unsaid, for sure.  But we need to stop over-hyping verbal miscues (24 hour sports and news networks are filling time for about 16 of those hours, I’d guess) and gives these guys some space.  I, for one, don’t enjoy the rantings of Jeremy Roenick, but I appreciate his candor.

So speak up puck-jockeys!  There are people in this world with real, important things going on, and you’re shooting vulcanized rubber into twine.  If I hear one more stagnant hockey interview I’m buying a Terrell Owens jersey and switching sports.

GET’CHA POPCORN READY!

Note:  Monday at 3:00 PM Eastern Time I’ll be doing an interview with The Score Media Group’s radio program “UnderScore” on Sirius 98, satellite radio.  Tune in and hear the (slightly feminine) voice behind the blog.

 

Round Three

 

Alright everyone, conference finals!

Despite being down to one game a night, I’ll still be in a committed relationship with my Sharp Aquos.  Here’s what I see going down in part three of Stanley’s Saga:

(2)Detroit Red Wings vs. (4) Chicago Blackhawks

I. Am. Pumped about this series.  It could be a wonderful thriller - but here’s my concern:

It may not be that close. 

For those of you who watch basketball, the defending camps are the Boston Celtics.  This year, they’re minus KG and in general, not very good.  But they keep that win-train packed with coal and cruise along nonetheless, because they’ve won before.  You really do grow more comfortable in difficult situations when you’ve been through it before.

The Red Wings have the same knowledge and comfort, with the small difference that they’re really good.  And well coached.

The hawks are well coached too, but man, do they seem fragile.  Did anybody watch the interviews by the young guns talking about this series?  These guys seemed more vulnerable than Luongo in a big game (ooooo, totally kidding Canucks fans, just thought I’d try to alienate another fan base).

The Hawks only chance to win is to get off to a great start in the series.  If they fall behind, I don’t see them having the confidence to make the same bounce-back they did in the last round.

Sometimes when you know you’re up against a better team, the guys on the lesser team - when it’s just them and a buddy - will openly admit “we’re f***ed”.

Wings in five.

(4) Pittsburgh Penguins vs. (6)Carolina Whalers

Dear Matt (and the rest of the Canes fan),

Granted, your team had Ron Francis, the least-celebrated great player in NHL history (I dare anyone to argue that).

Beyond him, as you know, I find your team inherently unlikeable.  I started out by refusing to comment on whatever series they were involved in.  But now they’re in a third one.  Sigh…

If they win the cup, I vow to write a long, scintillating piece for The Hockey News on how awesome they are, scintillation not included.  Any other result… and I plan to continue to drag them through the mud.  I just can’t help it.

Sincerely,

jb

This series:

Sadly, the Canes are nicely tailored for playoff hockey.  The good news is, they were nicely tailored for playoff hockey in 90′s.

Yes, again, I will be betting against Carolina.  It’s like “The Secret” – if I just keep sending out what I want, it will come to me.  Did I reference “The Secret”?  Yes.  That’s how desperately I want Pittsburgh to win.

Fancy-pants Malkin is gonna wake up, and Sid is going to produce less, but regardless, he’s still a constant threat.

This series goes six, with the  Pens taking it in front of Benedict Cower (or was it Bill?), and when that happens, I won’t have to carve my name next to “Brooks was here”.

For your interest, great comment on the Hurricanes by Matt from Charlotte on “Go Away’s and Hurray’s”, followed by my attempt at justification.

Go Away's and Hurray's

 

Since day one of this years playoffs, I’ve been hating on the ‘Canes.

Today will be no different.

For one, I’m in no danger of upsetting any readers because nobody outside of Raleigh-Durham likes them.  This year, they’ve taken their mediocre uni’s, players I don’t know and fans who think a red line is how you know your NASCAR engine is revving to high through Boston and New Jersey.

Impressive feats.  They’ve hurt the leagues chances at an all-original six finals.  They’ve crushed a Boston fan base who deserved some post-season success.  And worst of all?  They used to be the Hartford Whalers.  I realize it’s cool now to claim you liked the Nordiques, Whalers and Jets, but I loathed every one of those teams.

So like I was saying, congrats to the Carolina Hurricanes.

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Good on ya Red Wings.  There is more parity in hockey than baseball, basketball or football, and for the Wings to be this good for this long is a testament to their organization. 

Someone is doing something right, especially when they continue to do it with a goaltender who finished this regular season 41st in GAA, and 45th in save percentaege.  I literally had to hit “next” on the list of top 30 goaltenders to find his stats.

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So, I’ve had my first serious Obama disappointment.  After all his campaigning about eliminating the stupid “don’t ask, don’t tell” military policy, he bailed and is continuing on with it, recently letting one of the US’s mere 54 Arabic translators go.  As Jon Stewart mentioned, “near drowning 80-some people is morally justifiable for the military, but if you have a boyfriend… ho ho ho, time to go”.

“You can make ‘em talk, but you can’t make ‘em talk English.”

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I love The Roots as a band.  Always have.  Wasn’t sure what to make of them being on the Jimmy Fallon show, but now I’m sold.  They make it tick.

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What the broken bats is going on with David Ortiz?  Did he back off the “vitamin injections” with this new drug testing chaos?  Homie went 0 for 7 last night, stranding TWELVE runners in a 5-4 Sox loss.  That ain’t good.

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So, I’m a little concerned that as it gets to be summer, I’m going to hate my computer more.  I gotta golf today.  If you haven’t been to Kelowna, BC in the spring, you’re missing out.

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I think the hosts of Canada’s SportsCentre might be funnier than the US’s SportsCenter.  Unless it’s Scott Van Pelt and Kenny Mayne, in which case nobody is funnier… but the most part, I’ll give the nod to Canada.

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Okay, that’s all for today folks!  Hockey starts back up on Sunday, so in the meantime I’ll be keeping it random!  Or will I….

Complaints From My Couch

 

Good news, nonsense fans!  I wrote a couple real pieces for The Hockey News and MaxHockey today, and my planner has a few notes in it - here’s a gaggle of things I feel like bitching about this week.

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So, KFC finally mailed it in.

After careful business plan deliberation, they decided deep-frying artery-rotting chicken skins may not have a bright long-term future.

They now serve skinless, grilled chicken breasts, opening their eyes to the obesity epidemic and opting to serve something people can eat consistently without dying.  Apparently, death was really cutting into their repeat business.

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I know I’ve written about this like, ten bagrillion times, but somebody jam a bottle of booze into Crosby and see if we can make him fun.  He’s the total package, assuming you could only buy the total package in beige.

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Why don’t I know more about Nick Lidstrom?  The guy has won more Norris trophy’s than I have “participant” awards, yet I saw him interviewed yesterday and thought “huh, he speaks English well”.  Why is that the first time I’ve ever heard him speak?

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Is anything a bigger turn-off than obvious product placement?  You know, like the amount of Audi logo’s a couple Bond films ago?  It really takes me out of whatever I’m watching.  That’s why I’ve stopped watching TV, and now I only read THE HOCKEY NEWS. 

The Hockey News.  It’s reeeaaaddd-licious.

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In the Bruins/Canes game, what was gayer?  The two shirtless guys ”drunk” hugging between whistles, or Pierre McGuires passive mention of Tim Thomas’s body without his clothes on?

If you chose equally and extremely, you’ve won today’s grand prize.  A free subscription to my blog.

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I had officially lost the ability to distinguish between these three NHL head coaches (you know, portly, “thinning”, rattled).

All three eliminated within 24 hours.  Crazy.

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Maybe wearing red works.  Congratulations to Detroit and Carolina.  These playoffs have been sick.  I’ll give a little rundown/breakdown of what happened and what’s to come in the a.m, as well as links to new pieces around the net!

Stinkbomb

 

Okay Caps, fine, I get it, you lost.  Did you have to make it the worst NHL game in recent memory?

I would have rathered watched Sex and the City than that.  I would have rather watched informercials for feminine hygiene products.  Hell, I would have even rather watched a Sidney Crosby interview than that – wait wait, not that last part, that’s going too far.

It’s not that Varlamov let in a lot of bad goals, its that the bad ones were timed so poorly.  That second goal by Adams, I was furious at - and I like the Pens.  How did he not pass that back door?  That guy is wide stupid open, and this plug shoots it on the ice five-hole (panic shot), which hasn’t gone in since goalies were at that age where their parents yelled from the stands to alert them the play was coming.

How about the Capitals forward “back-checking” on the third goal by Guerin?  The guy literally just opted out of playing defense on an older guy who wasn’t skating hard, and the number one thing he can still do well is BOMB IT.  How about Letangs unscreen slapper that clips Varley in the shoulder for sticking a pin in the Capitals balloon?

The game was a clunker, I thought that Washingtons euro’s never looked like they had any pride, and the worst of it all was, they pouted when they fell behind; brutal body language the whole second half of this one.

Had it been in Pitt, there might have been some energy, but watching it felt like it was on mute and the commentator was in my living room.

I’m so.  effing.  bummed, that this happened. 

Hockey led on American sports shows yesterday like Pardon The Interuption and Around The Horn.  People who haven’t watched in years settled in with a drink and full attention.  And hockey delivered a nad-kick not seen since the Saget days of America’s Funniest Home Videos.

And what was it, Lord of the Flies?  How about the symbolism in the Ovechkin turnover to Crosby, which was slightly less subtle than a Carrot-top joke?  I’m glad Sid buried that. 

Congrats to the Pens, who held up their end of the bargain.  If I’m Caps owner Ted Leonsis, I’m having a looonngg think with a glass of scotch about Bruce Boudreau.  The boys just weren’t ready.

Judgement Day

 

Okay hockey fans, I’m back.

I was busy in Vancouver being judged at the Winking Judge in Vancouver.  Armed with the knowledge that a hangover is the body experiencing withdrawal from the previous nights alcohol, Nick, Charlie and I ambled into a pub for a curious-tasting orange juice. 

Still trying to figure out why Lee Trevino was standing outside the pub looking at his watch and shaking his head.

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There was good news and bad news on the trip.

The bad news, is that I was in Vancouver to witness millions of fans looking like somebody had just stolen their collective lollipop.  To reference Jack Handy, the Canucks elimination was comparable to telling a kid you’re taking him to DisneyLand, driving to a burnt down building and saying “aww, tough break”.  These people were crushed.

The good news is, I’m back on the couch, lappy on lap for GAME SEVEN BETWEEN THE CAPITALS AND THE PENGUINS!

I’ll have the computer on for some post-game commentary, complete with crazy-clever insights like “man, Ovechkin is really good.” and “both teams really wanted to win tonight.”  You won’t wanna miss it.

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With a flooded inbox, a to-do list the length of a paper towel roll, and columns to write, I prepare:  Sweatpants, snacks, and silence.  Lets talk a little hockey.

What a gift we’ve been given that this series is going seven.  It reminds me of this years Masters to a T (a tee?).

In the Masters, Phil and Tiger were both outside shots to win the tournament going into Sunday.  And, I think most people would say that the hopes of these two teams qualify as outside shots.

But, like Phil and Tiger, they’re clearly the most exciting, and clearly the most explosive.  The problem that the Masters had is the same one as the NHL.  This is going to be the climax of this tantric hockey series, but it’s only round two.  Phil and Tiger were finished and off the course when the leaders were still on 14, with well over an hour of golf left.  I got up and played pool.

Because them playing was the part I wanted to see, just like this is the exact match-up I was excited for.  It’s gonna be way less fun when it’s over.

All we can do is soak it in and hope it goes to OT again!

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In getting back to the Canucks, there’s some debate in Vancouver about keeping Roberto Luongo.  He’s under contract for next year, but if he plays it out without an extension, the Canucks will lose him to free agency, and get zero compensation.

So that means they have to do something with him sooner than later to not waste his value.  Here’s what they need to do:

 Get him the G.D. extension.

Every player in the league is good.  You can fill a roster with “good enoughs”, who’s job consists of not f***ing up while the organization waits for them to get great.  The best teams have the most great players.

You hold on to those guys, because they’re the difference makers.  Expectations in Canada were crazy-high for the Canucks, but really, they got a great playoff seed based on a hot stretch in which Luongo was so special he could have starred in The Ringer.

Luongo had a tough series, but there shouldn’t be any debate.  Good goalies are everywhere, great ones are rare. 

Short memory Canucks fans?  Want Cloutier or Irbe back?  Use that Sundin money to resign Luuuuuuu for the same dollars (what, he’ll ask for a raise on $7M after last series?) and try to track down Gaborik.  Maybe you’ll have a shot just yet.

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I’m on a boat:

Okay, I have to share this video with my younger readers. 

After much deliberation, I’ve decided not to post it directly on my page, but to provide the link.  It contains excessive bad language and awful rap.  It’s awesome.  Parental advisory:  Must be under 50 to view:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5QwM4vXex7c

Enjoy the game sevens, and remember, “I got my swim trunks.  And my flippy-floppies.  I’m flipping burgers you at Kinko’s straight-flippin’ copies”.

Dorm 608

 

Good morning.

Today is day three of the Tostito’s Destroy Your Liver Bowl, co-sponsored by my college roommates.

The sad part is, we’re getting older.  Last night we ended up in comfortable clothing and drinking red wine on the couch – a sad state of affairs when you can’t put back-to-back nights together anymore.

The facts are, my metabolism is slowing down, my hangovers are getting worse, and I’m financially incapable of paying for Canadian alcohol.

Yellow Tail, Cabernet Sauvignon:   Boise: $5.99 —Kelowna: $14.99

18 Coors light:   Boise  $15.99 — Kelowna: $33.99

Fourteen dollars, tuna sandwich, we think that’s fair (Seinfeld reference, anyone?).

Anyhow, we’ve been having a great time.  Nothing like guys one-time slap-shooting your putt O.B. to remind you “I’m not really playing for score today”.  Not that I’m a conspiracy theorist or anything, but the guy who kept the score won the money:

Ha, sorry, I was looking for an excuse to work that guy in there.

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So yeah, I’m on the verge of a complete playoff prediction meltdown this round.  I’m already at the point where I’m drifting from nightly playoff devotion and catching up in highlight packages.  I’m upset.  It’s golf season.  God I hate the Hurricanes.  Better analysis soon.  And by soon, I mean when I feel like it.

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Um, as a complete 180, has anybody seen the colorful gobbling bird in the preview for the animated movie “UP”?  I laughed my ass off the first time I saw it.  Gobbling might be my all-time favourite laugh-inspiring sound.  Thats him on the left.

I wonder how blogging about Pixar films is going to go over with the guys…. I’m sure that’ll hardly lead to any abuse.

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Today plan is to drive into VanCity, hit up Granville Island, verbally demean a couple guys I ultimately respect and start feeling guilty about calorie consumption and neglect of work.

And by start feeling guilty, I mean willingly remain oblivious.  Hope everyone is having a good Monday at work – we’re thinking it’s Mimosa time!

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THE CAST OF CHARACTERS

Charlie Kronschnabel, PICTURE NOW REMOVED BECAUSE CHARLIE HAS A REAL, IMPORTANT JOB.  The post-hockey-tape-removal-rash was HI-larious.

Nick Lowe, in his amazing technicolor hung-overalls.

And lastly, Brandon Segal, wearing a curious-looking yarmulka: PICTURE ALSO REMOVED DUE TO REAL JOBITIS.

Those, were my roommates.

The Lights Are On, But…

 

A few blogs back I mentioned that I called my own cell phone and answered it, simultaneously costing myself 50 cents for an international call, and setting a new limbo-bar-low for personal failures.  Once again, the bar has dropped.

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So far in the blogging industry, I’ve earned what I like to call “a kelvin”, because it’s been absolute zero.  But it’s summer, so what the heck… I bought myself new shorts.

Walking to my car from Wrap Zone today, a lady yelled out the window “Hey!”

I looked, didn’t know her, and kept walking.

“Hey you!  Yeah, you.  Come here.”

As I approached her car, she waited til I got real close and almost whispered:

“Are those new shorts?”

Me: “Um, yes ma’am, they are.”

Her:  “Yeah… you’ve still got the stickers on them bud.”

Hmm.  Ouch.

Glad I had that flagged down after an hour downtown.  And, it gets worse for me.

Some of you may say, stupid, but that’s not as low as calling yourself – and maybe you’re right.

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Try this one on for size:

The day before, I was booking a flight to Phoenix for job interviews and house shopping with Brianna.  While on the phone, she mentioned her inability to multi-task, but I assured her I was capable of it.  I would book while we chatted.

A mere moments later I found a stupid-good bargain, booked it, and my itinerary showed up in my inbox:

May 22nd – 26th, Kelowna to Vancouver — Not Phoenix.  I booked it to not just the wrong city, but the wrong country entirely.

Apparently those websites remember what you typed in last time you were there and save it, which would be convinient, if I weren’t as sharp as a spoon.

After endless phone calls, apologies, and embarrassment, I got the full “is-this-guy-f***ing-kidding-me” refund, and I’m happy as a clam.

This, is the life of a scatterbrain.

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In other idiot-related news, today I fly to Vancouver for my roommate-reunion.  I have a few blogs saved up to chip in, a guest blog coming up, and who knows, maybe a corona-induced roommate-inspired rant (I fear for my readership).  Enjoy!

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Another sidenote:  When I mentioned I thought the ‘Canes had the B’s in net, I got a little static…  The Bruins are innnn trouble.

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And one last anecdote:  My dear brother Jeff was wheeling back from lunch yesterday where I had meet him at a local pub to grab some grub.  Jeff’s a big, strong guy, as many wheelchair athletes are, and on top of that, he’s not at his um, physical fittest.

As he turned into his neighborhood, he noticed an ice cream truck follow him, make the same turns as him, and eventually pull up beside him.

The thing stopped, the driver leaned out, and proceeded to yell “hey bud, you want something?”. 

Haha… as Jeff put it, can you imagine a more telling “time to go on a diet” sign than getting stalked by a truck full of ice cream because you’re an assumed sale?

Aw.  Me too bro.  Time to get to the track!

A Warm Beginning And A Cold End

 

Okay, it’s officially time to do something with Bourne’s Blog.

Thanks to a light-hearted, fun and smart group of people who have been following along, my daily hits have gotten to a point where I’ve realized that not only do I like doing it, but folks seem to like that I do it too.

I’m at that point in my life where I should save some money (engagment ring?  house?  a couch in that house?), so I’m thinking about getting a website built where I can actually sell some advertising.  Ideally, I’d like to be able to pay for the carpal tunnel surgery this blog has caused.

I’ve developed working relationships with a young and growing real estate company in Kelowna (Vantage West), as well as a concierge company (Quintessential Concierge), and that’s all well and good.  But, breaking news, I like sports.

So, once I’ve saved enough to build a site and get it hosted, we may be seeing a change of web address – definitely by next hockey season (90% odds of the site being a money pit and me turning to softcore porn to recoup my losses).

I’d definitely be interested in hearing from anyone with ideas, suggestions, or interest in regards to being a part of a new site, or procuring my services.  Okay, on to today’s heart-breaking entry:

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Dear Baseball,

I’m sure by now you’ve noticed I’ve packed my stuff and left.  I had to.

In the beginning, things were good.  You thrilled me at a young age, wooing me with Blue Jays World Series thrillers, giving me hope of a future in the sport.

We hit some bumps in the road in a dozen years back.  I met golf and we spent less time together.  You turned to drugs and the big city life, spending all your time with the Yankees.

I saw all the signs that we were going down the wrong path during the Sosa/McGuire home run race, but still I fought.  You slapped me with a lockout, corked bats and steroid scandals, but I turned the other cheek.  I felt our relationship slipping, but I tried to hold on.

In our darkest days, these last couple years, I fought to make it work – you didn’t reciprocate.  The drugs, the drugs, the drugs.  They ate away at you until I could barely recognize you.  You lied to me about it over and over, the same weak story as translucent as glass. 

But Manny Ramirez?  Manny was the final straw.

In the midst of the chaos, we always had Manny.  Fun and engaging, he was a powerful homerun machine that seemed more into partying than his legacy.  He was only time we ever had fun together anymore.

When you took him from me, you left me with nothing.

I’ll always have a soft spot for you.  I’ll think of you when I throw the ball around in the backyard.  The Mets.  The Jays.  I’m sure I’ll keep an eye on you, find out what you’re up to.  I’m not even deleting you from my Facebook.

I just can’t be as invested in you anymore.  You’ve hurt me too many times, so now it’s come to this. 

It’s over.

The Return to the Rink

 

Nearly five months since I effectively proved the long-standing ”screaming vulcanized rubber v. mandible” debate (ruling in favor of the puck), I made my less-than triumphant return to the rink.

I exchanged my $7.50 for the right to join the rest of the Lunch-Time Lemieux’s, and headed to the dressing room to gear up. 

The remnants remained in the bag – a blood-tinged mouthguard, a stale Steelheads jersey and a jaw protector screwed into my helmet by our trainers as motivation to return.

I unscrewed the stupid jaw protector, and joined the days assortment of benders, dusters, plugs, cocky kids, Glen Healy-masked goaltenders - and the occasional decent player. 

I’m sure they’re all great guys.

Playing drop-in hockey for guys who have played any level of competitive hockey just isn’t that fun, but I needed the exercise.  So, a few goals, a trade and a half-dozen mild cardiac scares later, I was getting into the swing of it.

After a particular defenseman on our team scored (PS, that “particular defenseman” was a rhinoceros on rollerblades with a barrel for pants and toaster for helmet), I figured maybe there would never be a recreational level I could play at again where it could be fun.

But in reality, it felt great.  Hockey is the best sweat ever, and I’m thankful I’m able to do it in any light.  The game loses its luster a bit when you realize you have to go back to defense and pass the puck to men using their sticks as tripods … I guess I’ll just always miss the real competitiveness.

The funny thing is, I wasn’t taken with a desire to return.  I’m in a committed relationship with hockey.  I love it dearly, and it will always be my number one.  But I’ve kinda got a thing for golf.  Basketball kinda does it for me.  I might even get weird and wink at soccer one of these days.

I’ll keep playing I’m sure - lord knows I can spare the calories.  But for now I’m plenty happy making the transition to my new life.

Bri and I are house-hunting in the severly price-depleted, western sun-city of Phoenix.  I have a job interview with the Phoenix Coyotes marketing department (read: Jim Balsillie is on my shitlist) and I’m going to get together for lunch with their president Doug Moss later this month.

There’s a million places I could play next year, but I’m sick of the life.  Living out of suitcases and impermanent residences, having a long distance relationship and busting bones like a crash-test dummy was a great part of my life, but I’m ready for the next phase.

So bring it on world.  I’m ready.

Oh, and uh… I need a job.

Cleaning Out The Attic

 

A mind-puke, from the grey matter of Justin Bourne.

___________________________________________________

First, does Ovechkin have red highlights?  I find it odd that a Russian guy who has mastered the use of the minimalist punchline on the mic has stolen fashion secrets from legions of Hello-Kitty-rocking female Japanese teenagers.

*****

Also on Ovie, how about the time it takes him to get that mouthguard out of his mouth after he scores a goal?  I get the feeling maybe it’s like a variation of the movie Speed, where if he has it in for more than five second after a goal it detonates on his molars.

*****

Repetitive advice for young NHLers who think going no-visor makes such a difference that it’s worth the potential life-altering eye-damage:  Get serious.  Sid the Kid and The Great Eight wear them.  “Alfredsson, Datsyuk, Malkin and more wear them?… no - I’m Kyle Wellwood, and I need the wind slicing into my eyes when I skate.

I propose this question to the readers:  Who is currently the best non-visored player in the NHL?

*****

Blogs are generally negative, and I’m really trying not to follow suit.  It’s easy to sit on your couch and say everyone sucks.  So I’m looking for a positive on ‘ol Gino Malkin.

…

… …

yyyeeeeaaaaaahhhhh…

(Damnit, I did it anyways)

*****

Things currently thumbs-up-worthy in my book: 

Music accompanied by a piano, DVR, Jimmy Fallon, Lebron James, Cabbie on the Street, Tortarella getting all “New Yorkish” when he’s fired up, SportsCentre/SportsCenter hosts, the jersey and punch of a spectator in Happy Gilmore, and Bill Guerin apparently making Sid feel included by beaking him.

Thumbs down – wait, let me adust the system, I’m no Ebert.  We’ll call the good stuff “goals”, and the bad stuff “slapshots to the jaw”.

Slapshots to the jaw to:

The over-use of Glen “Big Baby” Davis’s nickname, recording and watching Celtics/Bulls game six with extended time – which only covered the first two overtimes, Doc Rivers, Peter Laviolette, Bob Mckenzie, hell, almost every hockey pundit, rumours of Brett Favre returning, and the constant worry about the laptop/sperm-count-correlation.

*****

Alright kids, that’s all I’ve got for you today.  Congrats to the Canucks fans, your boys are up 2-1.  If I hadn’t dogged them since I was a fetus, I’d celebrate with you.  My b.

Note: Major thanks to Stu Hackel for referencing “Bourne’s Blog” in his NY Times blog discussing Sid and Ovie http://slapshot.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/05/05/the-morning-skate-ovie-vs-sid-all-about-winning/#more-9757

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