Seabrook/Wisniewski, Campbell/Bourne, Cooke/Bruins

 

Yesterday, Mike Wazowski James Wisniewski got suspended for eight games.  I guess we all really worked Colin Campbell to a climax on that one, huh? 

Whatever – if you saw the Wisniewski interview, he looked like he felt really, really bad…. that he got suspended.  I’m not saying the guy’ll play like an angel the rest of his career, but forfeiting the price of a nice house in Phoenix might give him pause for a few seconds, I would think.

I messed up by not running the hit yesterday, and by only commenting on it in the comment section.  Here’s me making up for it, if you haven’t already seen it…. which you have, so umm… move on.

While we’re discussing Colin Campbell, as we often to seem to be….

My Dad and ol’ Coley couldn’t exactly be described by the phrase “BFF’s” back when they played.  ….Oh look, two clips – and by the way, they’re awesome – the commentators crack me up.

Colin Campbell vs Bob Bourne

Ahh, that felt good and it wasn’t even me.  I love the casual nature of the color guy in this one, doing the math on PIMS.  Just another whistle between plays…

Apparently they also score fight wins by take-downs, as Campbell was the “clear winner” against Sutter.  PS, that first left from my Dad was a bomb, thank god it didn’t land, for everyone’s sake.

*****

Okay, on to Matt Cooke vs. the Boston Bruins:

What did people think was going to happen? 

The circus demonstrated how badly some people are out of touch with the realities of professional hockey.  This was the type of thing that emphasizes to the guys in the room how much certain fans and media outside that room don’t get their job.

Every night some guy has a target on his chest, which is of secondary importance to the win.  Every night. It’s a long season, and you play the same teams plenty of times over the year, hell, over a career.  And, it’s not a cliche - their jobs ACTUALLY depend on winning.  And people flew in to catch this game expecting to see fireworks while the biggest fight is their battle for eighth? 

Granted, this one happened to be an extreme case (due to it’s blatant nature, followed by no suspension), and the guys are well aware of that.  But the night unfolded the way it did to appease those that went out of their way to be a part of the “event”.  Cooke had to fight if he didn’t want to be crucified in the (for once) vendetta-aware media, and the Bruins were no different.  In no way am I saying they wouldn’t have fought if not for the media, I’m just saying it wouldn’t have gone down like a bout at Caesars Palace 1:58 in.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The fact is, these are professional athletes, and though they often act spontaneously, you don’t get to that level without some measure of discipline.  Many-a-nights you leave (frustrated) after taking a number and just playing the game.  Just because the media sniffed out the obvious “hey, their gonna be mad at that guy, right?”, this all seemed a little…. forced.  It doesn’t usually happen the quarter-second after a guy’s skates hit the ice, but eventually, guys get found.

And it’s not always a fight – a late hit, an extra shot, whatever you can get in there and not hurt your teams chances.  As soon as a guy puts his vendetta ahead of the team goal, he sits.  He may get healthy scratched the next day (and the coach will tell the media its because a guy wasn’t “effective” to avoid the circus.  Read: Avery), and if it happens enough, he may get dealt.

For those who thought they’d fight Cooke everytime he stepped on the ice, chase him around and make highlight-worthy plays on him…. with Colin Campbell and every east coast media guy there?  To quote NFL Countdown, C’mon, man.  In the end, they may not be done with him, but they aren’t idiots.  They put on the show people came to see, right away.  But they’ll find him again when it’s not mid-playoff push.  They’re disciplined.  They’re pros.

A Player Appearance Gone Wrong – Video Style

 

Hey team – Happy St. Patricks Day! 

My family name, a handful of generations ago, actually used to be O’Burne, til my however-many-great Grandpa moved across and chucked the “O” in the middle to avoid persecution.  Or so the story goes.  Either way, I claim to be fully Irish today (as does everyone else), partly because there isn’t a Ukranian celebration day where I can shamelessly drink beer.

So, something different for ya!  A video blog.  It’s been a long time.  (I shouldn’t-a left you.  Without a dope beat to step to.)

I was going to write about player appearances, so instead, I just told the story.  Hope you likes!

{By the way, if you’re looking for reading to do, my column for USA Today is up.  I weigh in on the GM’s freshly pressed blindside rule.  Recommend and comment ’til your heart’s content!}

A Brief Wander, Followed By A Serious Rant On Agitators

 

ohmigodTigerscomingbackatthemasters

Ahem.  Sorry.  I finger-puked on the keyboard.

Tiger Woods has confirmed the speculation.  He’s making his return to professional golf at Augusta.

You may have noticed by now that I kinda sorta enjoy that golf tournament.  When he wrapped his Escalade around… well, pretty much everything (animated graphic here), I became immediately panicked about the undisputed best weekend in sports.

But today, proper order has been restored to the world.

What’s that you say?  The Masters, NHL playoffs, NBA playoffs, college hockey playoffs, March Madness finals and the start of the baseball season?  Hmm.  Thank youuu, April. 

I’ll be live blogging the weekend on one of those “Cover It Live” things, and anybody who wants to watch “with” me and entertain each other (that guy spends more time in the sand than David Hasselhoff), I welcome your company.

*****

I’ve become more fluent in the language of internettia since I started working on the damn thing for a living.  After watching a TIME video on tech trends, I decided it was time I add all the “share” buttons to the top of this blog.

Basically, they were explaining to simpletons like me how the reader is becoming the distributor.  Good writing, entertaining stories and all things viral are passed about by people like you recommending stuff through Digg, Twitter, and any of the million other options you have for sharing.

So, on those days I write something of significance (not that OMG TIGER WOODS IS COMING BACK isn’t), please share share share!  You can also grab my RSS thinger, follow me on Twitter, or just come to my site and read stuff the old fashioned way.  Whatever tickles your pickle.

{Also, thanks to Kyle and Fiona for their recent donations to the blog.}

*****

Alright, I’m on to hockey, calm down.

BREAKING DOWN AGITATORS

We’ve all accepted that agitators are a part of hockey.  They always have been.  But let’s call a spade a spade today, because frankly, it’s fun to do.

They’re phonies.

Their style of play is a cop out for effective hockey.  When they aren’t performing well, they always have the fail-safe option of flapping their gums in the direction of their opponent, and suddenly everyone thinks they’re “in the game”. 

Even their coach might say “Look at that guy, he’s the only one who cares tonight.”

Really?

O-VER  RATE-ED clap-clap-clapclapclap. 

For some reason, the fans love them, yet they have zero positive effect on their teams chances of winning, unless they’re actually playing the quality hockey that so many of them are capable of.  Zero percent, because for every time their antics help a team win, it’s balanced by them costing their team a game.

In this sport, what does “rattling” your opponent do?  Fire him up?  — It’s hockey, not golf.  I understand head games when you’re playing a guy who has to stand over a four foot million dollar putt, but getting someone more involved and revved up in a physical game?  All these idiots do is wake sleeping beasts.

There are times when they draw penalties, sure.  But to do that, you need to sneak in a few spears and trips, which means they end up taking a few along the way themselves.  These guys hear “poser” and “clown” and “phony” on repeat, because their peers know what they are.  They’re doing whatever they need to do to draw a paycheck, but it’s not in a respectable way.  It’s indecent proposal on skates – would you intentionally injure people for a million dollars?  Apparently, yes.

Name me a completely clean agitator that’s get devoid of a “questionable” play in their career.  Cooke?  Burrows? Hartnell?  Downie?  Carcillo?  Avery?  Somewhere along the line they all take it too far. (Honest question: I rarely see the Wild play, but Clutterbuck is getting a bit of a reputation for being effective.  Is he both an “agitator” and still without incident?  Maybe he’s the rule’s exception.)

In playing that role, you know that’s the case.  You know at some point you “might” hurt someone.   Your coach knows that’s probably going to happen too, so he lives with his fingers crossed that it just doesn’t cost the team a penalty.

How many times can you watch a forward make a just-a-split-second-later-than-necessary attempted hit, miss the guy and make a ruckus on the glass, and still rise to your feet and applaud?

The difference between those worthy of our respect is just so unmistakable: If Jerome Iginla feels someone did something that needs answering, he drops the gloves from his Hall-of-Fame 50-goal scoring hands and fights.  If Vincent Lecavalier needs to get his team going, he’ll do the same.

But when Sean Avery goes to fill his role, he skates by the opposing bench, taunts someone, hacks someones laces, agrees to fight then leaves his gloves on to draw a penalty.  There’s no honor there.  But enjoy your celebrity, dude.

These guys have always been in the game, from my Dad’s day to mine.  They aren’t going anywhere, and I’m not proposing they do.  I’m just proposing we open our eyes and stop cheering for them.

Don Cherry, Get Fuzzy and Video Review

 

Before I let the Matt-Cooke-on-Mark-Savard-hit go (and keeping in mind that once I do, Savard will still be dealing with weeks/months of photo-sensitivity and inability to exercise without dry-heaving for few minutes), I thought I’d run the Coaches Corner where Don Cherry addressed the situation better than anyone so far – it’s a must-see.  This is the rare issue worthy of Cherry’s intensity, and really puts Matt Cooke (and the situation) in perspective:

Okay, sorry to start off on that note – let’s get happy! (© Pardon The Interruption)

*****

I’m a cartoon guy. 

Not like a “Saturday morning” cartoon guy, or a “Superman” cartoon guy, but a comic strip dude.  I can get pretty passionate in either praise for The Far Side, or in VILE PULSATING HATRED for Family Circus (I’ve been thinking about running their daily cartoon and just viciously shredding it like Fuck You, Penguin does to cute animals pictures, only my version would lack the redeeming quality of having cute animal pictures). If you’re a comic-sseur like myself, you may enjoy the following daily comic strips (your suggestions welcome):

Get Fuzzy

Dibert

 

 

 

 

 

Pearls Before Swine

(Also, in college I quite liked the Strong Bad emails and Teen Girl Squad at Homestar Runner.com.)

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Okay, back to hockey – one quick thought:

A colour guy made a great point on the weekend:  Ilya Kovalchuk took a lazy wrister from just inside the blue line, and Marc-Andre Fleury went to catch it.  Travis Zajac came from the side of the net, and simply pushed in Fleury’s glove with his stick, allowing the puck to go, y’know, in the net.  From the refs angle, he couldn’t see the interference.

Why not make goalie interference video reviewable?  I understand the “it’d hold up the game” argument, but isn’t that one of the few places you’d like to be sure you got the call exactly right?

*****

Oh wooden legs.  Are you ever un-funny?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*****

And last, let me continue to siphen away those painful Monday minutes for ya.  This is “Really?!?, with Seth and Jerry” —- aimed at Eric Massa.

 

Jeff Bourne: 2010 Sledge Hockey Preview

 

For those of you who’ve been long-time blog readers, you know my brother Jeff is one of those people you’re blessed to get to know.

A number of months ago, Jeff was accepted to be one of Canada’s hosts for the Paralympic games – it took an interview process, and he was picked based on the pure fact that he’s so likable you want to punch him in the face (which I’ve often wanted to do for my own brotherly reasons).  Sadly, Jeff when through a tough time after visiting me here in Phoenix, and had an extended stay in the hospital.

Since “Jeff’s Ordeal” as the blog I wrote was titled, they found the root of the problem – a major surgery, endless staples to the head and chest, and a few weeks of recouping later, and the dude is good as new.  It’s not like he was a pretty canvas to disfigure anyway, if you get what I’m saying   {Kidding bro, kidding. …ish}

Anyways, what he is doing, is covering the Paralympic Sledge Hockey Tournament at his personal website.  If you’re remotely interested in sledge hockey (if you aren’t, you should be.  Check out the video I posted halfway down this blog for a convincer), Jeff will fill you in on everything you need to know as a tournament warm-up.

For those of you too lazy to click the link to his blog, grow up and CLICK THE LINK TO HIS BLOG.  Also, comment on it and contact the guy.  He’s just a fun person to get to know.  Learning Jeff-speak is like learning a whole inside-joke-laden language.  You won’t regret it.

Now, for those of you who were to lazy to click it, here’s what the Bourne’s newest blogger wrote.  ….But seriously, go read it on his site.  I don’t need any halfway committed sledge fans peeking in.  You’re in or you’re out:

******

2010 Vancouver Paralympic Sledge Hockey Tournament Preview

-by Jeff Bourne

As the 2010 Oylmpic winter games come to a close, we now look ahead to the 2010 Paralympic games.

The Paralympics doesn’t have quite as of a rich history as the Oylmpic games, but still, it is a valid evolution of the acceptance of disabled people.

Here’s a Brief history of the Paralympic Games for those of you that aren’t as informed:

The games were started in Stoke, Mandeville, England in 1948, as a way to get soldiers returning from the 2^nd World War up and moving again. The current winter paralympics did not start until 1980 in Geilo, Norway. There was only 3 events during the 1^st winter Paralympics which where: Alpine Skiing, Ice sledge speed racing and cross country skiing.

Today the winter paralympics consists of five sports which include: Wheelchair curling, Cross country skiing, Alpine skiing, Biathlon and Ice sledge hockey.

I myself have been playing Sledge hockey for 7 years now, and have grown to love the sport.

For those of you that do not know what sledge hockey is, sledge hockey is pretty much exactly like regular hockey except it is played in “sledges”.  Sledges consist of a bucket seat with runners to hold your legs out straight and ice hockey blades on the bottom of the sledge.  Players use two smaller sticks with ice picks on the bottom to propel themselves around the ice.

During the 2010 paralympics there will be 8 National teams competing for the gold medal.  Pool A will consist of: The Czech Republic, Japan, South Korea and The USA.  Pool B consists of: Canada, Italy, Norway and Sweden.

In my pre-paralympic predictions. I am going to take the USA coming out of pool A on top followed by Japan in second place followed by South Korea and the Czech Republic. You may be wondering why I predict the Czech’s to finish in last place in pool A?  The Czech republic has only recently begun to play the game of sledge hockey, and South Korea’s world ranking before the paralympics was 5^th.

Pool B is going to be a more exciting pool to watch, especially for Canadian fans. I am going to predict that Canada with it’s home ice advantage will come out of pool B on top followed very closely by Norway,with Sweden and Italy rounding out the pool.

Some of the players to watch for in pool B are Norway’s Eskil Hagen as well as fellow Norwegians, Helge Bjornstad, Rolf Einer Pedersen, Tommy Rovelstad, and Norway’s goaltender Roger Johansen. As for the Canadian national team, be on the look out for players such as Billy Bridges who has been dubbed the Sidney Crosby of sledge hockey. Also, Bradley Bowden is a player who I would compare to Crosby’s teammate Evgeni Malkin. In goal for Canada is Paul Rosen, who is one of the top two goalies in the world today.

In Pool A, watch out for the USA’S Steve Cash and Taylor chance, who have a really good chance of being in the top five in scoring when the tournament is all over. For the Japanese team, be on the look out for Takayuki Endo and goalie Shinobu Fukushima.

My final predictions for the Gold, Silver and Bronze medal would have to be Canada winning gold — I’m not trying to be bias here, I just think that because it is in Canada I will give them the edge. As for the silver medal I would think Norway has a great chance as finishing 2^nd with the USA rounding out the top three.

Well paralympic fans, i hope you enjoy the next 10 days of paralympic competition, I know I will!!

******

Justin again …Fine, here’s the video:

 

Inside The Dressing Room: Kangaroo Court & Apologies

 

I’ve written before about players putting money towards the team pot for big wins.  In that bit, I danced around the best aspect of raising that year-end fund (which, of course, goes to a pizza and pop party that definitely wouldn’t involve, say, a strip club). 

Kangaroo Court.

A lot of people are familar with the concept, as a lot of organizations use them as a fun revenue generator.

At the professional level, it’s fun, and a decent amount of money changes hands (another reason why it’s a bitch getting traded or cut – guys party on the pot you chipped in to).  At the college level, it’s the highlight of the freaking week, and max fines are only $3 (save for broken team rules, like $15 for being late, etc.).

How it works is simple – the dry erase board is hung somewhere visible in the room.  The format is basic: when you want to fine a teammate, you write his number under “fined” and your own under “by”.

16  -  12

No need to disclose topics, or any of the who/what/why/when/where/how circumstances of the fine-able offense until court comes around.

Needless to say, on Mondays, a lot of numbers go up on the board from the weekend.  Half the fun is harrassing the guy you’re fining, or vice versa.  If you’re on the “fined” side, it’s not the money you’re stressed about, it’s the public condemnation/humiliation/verbal-beat-down (Strictly totally clever, Shakespearian witticisms.  Yep.  Hardly any gay sex jokes.). 

What did I ever do to you?  Fine then, I’m fining you for _________ (insert petty thing that’d never stick).

The rule is, you can’t fine someone for something that happened previous to the last Kangaroo Court session, which means you have to get away with whatever it is you did for a full week.

When court rolls around post-practice, the fun begins.  In college, the seniors are the jury, in pro, the captains.  Whoever is running court grabs the board, and it begins. 

First up, 16 is being fined by number 12.  State your case.

You have to save your best stories for court, preferably bar stories, as you have the whole teams attention.  There’s always some gem about a guy throwing a line at someone’s girlfriend, buying drinks for a woman of questionable repute or any other form of debauchery that’s deemed to have crossed the line.  (God I want to tell the photo evidence story.  We’ll all have to go for drinks some time so I can.  All of us.)

The person being crucified, upon just finding out what he did wrong (okay, sometimes you know), has to defend himself to the team and the jury.  Then, the ruling comes in, from no fine to three bucks (it’s not about the money, you may have guessed).  In pro, the numbers are higher, but it’s still beside the point.

College is an experience I wouldn’t trade for anything, and I can’t remember ever laughing harder at any point during my four years than I did during those trials.  Mostly cause I never did anything fine-worthy, and was always on the fun side of it.  Which, I can assure you, because it’s my blog, and I have the power to delete comments.  MUAH-HA-HAAAA.

*****

You know what’s crazy that a lot of fans never get to see?  Guys that apologize to the whole team between periods.

Nathan Lawson, the amazing/underrated goaltender of the Bridgeport Sound Tigers was always the first person to own up to a bad goal – Sorry about that one guys, I gotta have that.  I’ll be better in the third, pick me up – which is just so refreshing.  Plenty of goalies tend to believe (or at least act) like they’ve never given up a bad goal, so when you get a good guy like that, you really want to work for him, you know?

It happens after bad penalties too, at the end of a period – My bad guys, that was stupid – kill this thing off for me and lets get back on ‘em.

Of course, then there’s the guys who apologize, then go out and do the same thing over and over, which sort of takes the value out of their words.  You know who doesn’t strike me as an apologizer?  Matt Cooke.  Just a thought.

Anyways, that’s all the totally random dressing room stuff I’ve got for today.  Thanks for the support – the site is really blowing up the last couple weeks.  You just wait to see how much traffic we get on here for the first round of playoffs when the Islanders play the Caps!  Yeah!  Islande….no?  Okay, probably not.

The Call-Up I Should’ve Declined

 

Here’s my favourite call-up story:

As you probably know by now, I’m engaged to Clark Gillies Daughter, Brianna.

At the time of this story, I was playing for the Utah Grizzlies of the ECHL (that’s me on the left, shortly before my coach became the 64th one I’ve had tell me to smile less.  Hey, I like hockey), and she was finishing her Masters at Stonybrook University, interning and taking classes to become an Occupational Therapist.  Finding time to be together was tough.

Coincidentally, my team had a homestand over Valentines Day – being that Bri was probably going to be said Valentine, she adjusted her schedule (read: skipped classes) to come out on the Friday, and booked her trip to return home on the Sunday.  Not a whole lotta time, but when you see each other once every Wayne Primeau goal, you take what you can get.

The best case scenario for me was to get called up and play in Bridgeport, which was a 70 minute drive from her parents place on Long Island.  My slow offensive start that year wasn’t exactly helping our cause.  But, I had started to pick it up, and we committed to a weekend together in Salt Lake City until Bridgeport needed a right winger… not that we were wishing for their bus to roll or anything (a horrible truth about playing in a farm system).

Her trip took her through Chicago and got to Salt Lake around nine PM, so I had gone to dinner with Jordy Hart, which is when she called.

“No complications or delays in Chicago, just boarding to get outta here babe!”

Beautiful.

I headed home to tidy the place, as is the standard panic move of a dude living with two other dudes who’s previous dude places were dude dorms or with their parents.

About 30 minutes later and five minutes from my place, I got the call from our coach:

I was going up.

I was to drive to the rink, pack my gear, get home, pack a bag and some suits, and my flight was to leave at ten PM.  I’d get in to La Guardia around 4 AM EST or so, hop in the car they sent, and get driven the 90 minutes to Connecticut, either to a hotel, or to make the money-saving move of going directly to the rink for practice (where I was told I could sleep on the couch in the dressing room for a few hours).   ….Thanks.

Oh, and there was that one other minor complication:  Bri was still in the air. 

And where had she departed from?  You guessed it:  La Guardia.  Well isn’t this special.

I was panicked.

I was plotting.

I did the only thing I could do – you can’t turn down a call-up.  I packed my stuff up, and headed to the airport.  I bought her a one-way flight (thank god there were seats) on my flight (annnnd then I was broke), and waited for her to land.

By the time her flight landed and she made it off, it was 9:15 – 45 minutes ’til her return flight, and there I was – hockey bag, sticks, duffle bag, suit bag, and holding her ticket.  No long awaited run and hug.  Minimal smiling.  My travel-weary, bummed out girlfriend cried. 

But I mean… this is a good thing… right?

We flew through the night to La Guardia, and Bri wasn’t willing to give up on our weekend.  Almost 24 hours later, she arrived with me at the hotel, where we dropped our stuff off, and I carried on to the rink, taking the only ride I could get, the sent car.

At least when the weekend was over, I’d still be close by, right?

I barely had time to see Bri over the next day or so before she had to head home, but we were happy because I’d be close.  A week later, I travelled with Bridgeport to Portland, so Bri wasn’t able to drive up on the weekend, but we had made plans for her to come up after work the following Monday. 

After the Portland game, we were standing in line at Tim Hortons, grabbing a snack for the road. I was ahead of coach Jack Capuano in the line, when this conversation happens:

“Boahny (Boston accent for Bourny) – Yoah goin’ t’ the ahll-stahh game tomorrow, aight?  When we get back, yoah flights at seven outta La Guahdia, the cah will pick you up just aftah three.”  Yup, A.M.

“Oh.  OH.  Okay….”  *thinking* “Was that just weirdest send-down ever?“  I had a hunch I wasn’t being flown back to Bridgeport after the game.  I was right.

The ECHL all-star game was in Stockton, California – not so close to New York, for you geography buffs.  After the full day of travel, I was the last guy to arrive.  Some of the players were fully dressed for the skills competition, taking place in 20 minutes – that’s how tight my cross-continent adventure was.  I was gonna have to bust it to get my gear on in time for this thing to start.

I literally didn’t even know:  What fucking event am I in?

I checked the schedule, hoping for a little time to warm up and a little information about what I was to be doing.  And there is was, in 17 minutes:

FIRST EVENT, 7:00 START
PUCK HANDLING/AGILITY SKATE

FIRST UP:  JUSTIN BOURNE

*****

 

A few pictures from our call-up:

(1) Had airport security take this picture after they red-flagged us to SEARCH BOTH OUR BAGS.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(2) St. Patty’s Day with my roomate after getting called up the second time for a couple months, Kip Brennan.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(3) Bri and I get artsy by this awesome old building.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(4) This thoughtful pic look familiar?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(5) Not a bad ocean view from our spot on the Sound.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(6) Didn’t have my sticks when I first got called up – what was meant to be up around the goalies ears was up around the middle of his logo.  Sighhhhh…..

I’ll Take Potpourri For A Thousand, Alex

 

Not that my blog is particularly focused in the first place, but I’m due to unload a whole crapload of half-baked thoughts.  Some may be on the same page as you, some may be a complete waste of seconds of your life, but hey – I’m pretty sure it was the variable interval schedule of rewards that got the rats coming back the most in the Skinner box, so it only makes sense.  Start hitting the lever, my pretties…. 

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My BlackBerry only allows me to send 160 characters in a text.  Hey phone, you’re not Twitter.  My archaic, older machines used to let me go long and send it in two parts, but my new one won’t?  ….At least I don’t have to use AT&T like iPhonies, I guess….

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The NHL Network did interviews with Sidney Crosby and Ryan Miller post-Olympics, and largely focused on the final goal.  I realize Ryan Miller’s head is shaped like an ice cream cone, but did we really have to sit him down and give him those few extra licks?  The guy was all over him, like the last goal was a Miller meltdown.  Hockey plays kinda happen quickly there, Tom Brokaw.

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Crosby turned down the chance to do the Top Ten on Letterman, as he has before.  My guess for “why?” is because there’s nothing more patronizing than reciting jokes about hockey written by people who have zero idea about the sport to begin with.  Okay, team, we need ten jokes involving sticks, ice and gold.  Let the hilarity begin.

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I used to chat with my mom after a close playoff game I was in, and she’d say that at times she was near a complete and utter emotional meltdown …yet I never was.  It occurred to me after the Canada/US final that Mom is right – when you care about the result of a game, it’s far easier (stress-wise) to be playing than watching.

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Let’s bring this picture into focus:  Nobody is ever allowed to say “eye-hand” in reference to “hand-eye” coordination again, okay?  Good talk.

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Commentators always give goalies shit for looking behind them like they’re shaky, which they might be.  But if it’s your goalie, aren’t you glad he’s doing it?  If he isn’t certain he has full possession, isn’t it kinda like crossing the street…. no harm in checking?  If you aren’t sure, damn straight have a glance, and sooner than later.  I don’t need a puck limping across my goal line, thanks.

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I have a petty grudge against American Olympian Ryan Suter for calling me a “bender” in college a half-dozen times, so I’d like to take this opportunity to extend a retro-active, Canadian “ha-ha” to him (said like Nelson from the Simpsons) on his crushing overtime defeat.  What’s that you say?  He’s rich, in the NHL, and an Olympic silver medalist?  Touché.

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Best backhand(s) in the NHL:  Patrick Kane, Evgeni Malkin, Henrik Zetterberg.  Come accept your awards.

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I’m stoked about The Marriage Ref, even though it has nothing to do with marriage.  Really, it’s just a topic for three really funny people to BS about.  Consider my DVR set.

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For this years trendy, surprise Stanley Cup champion pick, I predict people predicting San Jose.  Everyone knows you’re not supposed to, based on their past playoff failures.  Thus, it’s a talented team that people shouldn’t pick – the perfect formula for all us talking heads to take as a “shocker that might come true”.  The goal isn’t to be right – hell, being right in the majority might actually be worse than being wrong.  So here comes everyones attempts at “right in the minority”.  See, look what a great hockey mind I am!

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As I’m fairly tall, and somehow I shrink all my shirts up over time, I think I see how old men end up wearing their pants under their nipples.  Shirts miraculously get shorter, so the pants gotta come up to compensate.  I’m like the Hardy Boys, knocking out one mystery at a time.

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In Tiger’s apology speech, everytime he started to tear up, he put it on lock and got it together.  Isn’t that the ultimate testament to the guy’s mental ability?  To just put the kibosh on tears and re-focus?  Impressive.

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And last, if you feel like reading a real column I wrote, you can check out my thoughts on why it’s harder to score towards the end of the season, for USA Today.  I think that’s enough mind-puke for one day.  Happy Tuesday.  Not the biggest day in the sports world.  You may have spend time with your family today.  ….Ugh.

A Little Insight Into “Show Dough”

 

Occassionally, I’m going to do a little feature called call-up madness, explained, where I’ll answer any questions you have (email me) about what goes on behind the scenes of an NHL farm system.  Today, I’ll talk about something I never personally got to experience, but still know how it works from being around it.  You know, the part of playing professionally where you get rich: the NHL call-up, and how it affects your bankroll.

“Show Dough” is the term used to describe making NHL money by everyone not making it, AKA players in the AHL/ECHL and beneath.  The term is best served slathered in jealousy and bitterness.

You’ve heard the all-too-true stories: guy signs a big deal and has a Cadillac Escalade by the end of the week, cause, y’know, how else are people gonna know he makes show dough if he keeps his old car? (See how nicely the bitterness sets off the phrase?)

One of the fun parts about playing professional hockey below the Escalade pay-grade is that you get used to the fact that you could be rich or broke with a call-up or send down on any given day.  You have to, or you’d go crazy trying to Gilloly your teammates (that reference too dated yet?), so you sort of get numb to the whole thing.

What this means is, sometimes the mook who accidentally drinks his own chew spit, has no front teeth and made out with that chick-at-the-bar-that-turned-out-to-be-a-dude will just suddenly get “rich” when the phone rings one day.  It’s really weird to see who changes (and how) with the show dough earned from a call-up.

When guys permanently make it, they tend to quickly adjust to the next tax bracket, so they don’t really appreciate it like the guys who only get to go up for a couple days – because that couple days of show dough sounds glorious.

To over-simplify, league minimum is somewhere around (or maybe a bit above now) $450,000.00 a year, so getting called up for ONE SINGLE DAY is pro-rated to $3,000.00 in your bank acount, $2,000.00ish after taxes.  That means a week in the bigs equals $21k, $14 after tax. 

These call ups are for real.

For a guy making $50,000 a year, a very common AHL amount, a few day call up is a nice kick in the pants.  And for guys who have an NHL deal that make more than the minimum when they go up, it starts getting crazy.  Upon getting sent back to Bridgeport with the rest of us shlubs, Jeff Tambellini told me that his call-up (around three weeks or so) had earned him more than he made over the six/seven months of the entire AHL season.

So often, you’ll see a guy who gets called up to an NHL team for a few games get sent down for the two days between games, and fans go “well what the hell was that all about?” — and the answer is pretty obvious.  If a guy is making $300 a day in AHL, they stand to save $2,700 for every day they don’t have to have the kid practice, travel, or rest on an NHL roster (also why it’s nice to have your affiliate team close).  Clearly, not the best thing for the kids ability to succeed, but hey, them’s the breaks - you can take the days you get or don’t, bud.

Just thought I’d fill-in those of you who didn’t know how call-ups got paid, because hey, I’m here to help.

Next week in call-up madness, explained: coaches that dress extra guys for warm-up, then tap one or two of them on the shoulder to tell them they aren’t playing, just before the game…. and why they should be ice-picked in the face for doing it.

{Note: at Islander camp, we got $100 a day for meal money, in an envelope just stuffed with hundreds for the week ….and they provided two meals a day, including an omlette station with our buffet breakfast.  Guys under contract got $1500 for the week for “meals”, somehow.  ECHL “per diem” as they eloquently call meal money (which you only get on the road, of course), is up to $34 a day.}

Reader Stories and Tips For Hillen

 

If you didn’t catch it, yesterday’s post on my buddy Neil owning me at basketball came with one of the best stories of all-time in the comment section.  I suggest you check out the comment by The Franchise here.

Along that same topic, I’d love more of the same.  I have my stories, and I generally tell them as they happen.  But every person on the planet has “that story” – the one they tell after a couple drinks, or in the utmost comfort of a situation.  The most crazy, “is that really true?” story of their life.  I’d love to hear them.  If you post yours in the comment section, I’ll post mine next week.  My non-hockey one is pretty decent too.  Step your game up.

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Quick thought: who the f**k thought it’d be a good idea to perforate parts of price stickers, so when you go to rip ‘em off, you can’t get a smooth, whole sticker peel?  It has to come off in those frustrating, divided, blood-boiling parts.  Everything in the last ten years has gotten quicker and easier, but stickers, for some reason, need to be twice as binding and in tiny little sections.  If this is the path humanity is heading down, the world is devolving into a fiery hell-hole of evil.

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I bet Iginla thinks Phaneuf is a joke, in every way possible.

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You hear about the Paul Shirley fiasco?  What a shame.  He’s always been good about corresponding with me, giving advice and all that stuff.  I ran an interview with him recently on this very blog.

Shirley writes a column on ESPN The Life about music.  Or rather, he did.

He also runs a website called Flip Collective - a daily compilation of essays from what he deems to be worthy contributors (friends, brother, etc.).  It was on Flip Collective, I believe Tuesday, that he ran his thoughts on the dire situation in Haiti.  To summarize, his point was “they kinda f***ed up by living in crappy conditions on the fault line of tectonic plates in the first place, lets not send them money” – or as a big picture analyst would call it “burning every bridge you’ve ever crossed by being a heartless dick”.

Sorry about the awful language in this post. 

I’m okay with him presenting the idea of “giving with a plan”, but most of it comes off as pretty insensitive.

Anyways – for a summation of the events, check out Deadspin.  They’re all over any drama they can get their condescending keyboards on, as per usual.

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Jack Hillen is out 6 to 8 weeks with a broken jaw.  A few quick tips for Jack, from a guy who knows:

*Campbells makes “Soup at Hand” – just over a minute in the microwave, and plenty of noodle-less flavours to drink.  You WILL develop an aversion to all smooth foods eventually, so enjoy ‘em now.

*Don’t try to blend solid foods into liquid.  I tried Hamburger Helper, chicken noodle soup, cheesecake (see page bottom), you name it.  It never turns out well, as many times as I lied to myself.

*To keep weight on, I made ridiculous blended shakes.  After the fruit, juice and yogurt base, I was adding protein powder, oatmeal, peanut butter, eggs, you name it… all at once.  If you can force it down, it’s for your own good.

*Carnation instant breakfast is a nice change from all the Boosts and Ensures you’ll be chugging.

*Enjoy the delicious liquid painkiller.  Chasing food with a shot of percaset makes it allll better, buddy.

*You have to stare at the TV forever, so you might as well learn some shit.  I watched documentaries galore (and lots of stand-up comedy, just to feel positive about something).  But the best thing you can do, is have a box-set to watch.  As this blog recently discussed, Lost, 24, Dexter, Entourage, whatever — just be sure to keep lots of entertainment nearby.

*Puzzles.  Board games.  Stuff you thought you’d never do again.

*Take a page from Louis CK, and hate random people for no reason.  Just sit there and actively hate them, even though they don’t deserve it.  “Positive thinking” is for hippies.  Your situation blows.

*Blog.  You should start writing a blog.  It can be a career option if the whole hockey thing doesn’t work out.  Okay, “career” is an overstatment.  But it’s cathartic!

 

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Okay, time to tidy the place for the in-laws.  They’ll be so glad to get out of NY this time year, to Arizona where it’s…… raining.  Damnit.

Pick-up Basketball: A Confession

 

First and foremost, HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my lovely bride-to-be, Brianna Lynn.  I’ll begin catering to her every will today by not blogging about hockey (sorry dear, still sports.  Jersey Shore blog is in the works though.).  Love you lots!

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I love playing basketball.  For a brief, responsibility free period of my life, about 15 friends from high school did too.

For those years on the Lakeview Courts, it wasn’t too hard to scrounge up enough guys to get a competitive game going.  And we took it pretty seriously – probably too much, sometimes.  Y’know, the times where you can’t invite a certain two guys to the court on the same day for fear of a fight?  Yes, Neil, I agree – Patterson did have the tendency to charge and play just a tad physical.  And yes Matt, Neil was a huuuge smartass.For those of you who’ve played your own versions of what we called “ghettoball”, (which in hindsight was probably not the most PC name for it), you know there’s supposed to be golf-level etiquette.  You call your own fouls, keep the teams fair and try not to be the guy who shoots every time the ball gets worked over to him.

The problem with street basketball was that, if you were tall, you usually won.  Nobody was running a play to draw the big guy out from under the hoop in our fun-and-run style of play, I can assure you that.  Especially in a game solely comprised of white Canadian kids.  So for that, I say damn you, Paul Atkin.  Rebound, miss.  Rebound, miss.  Rebound, elbow you in the face, miss.  Rebound, basket.  Count it!  Our tall friend happened to be the nicest guy on the planet and an international Karate champion, so we tended to just wait out the misses ’til he coaxed the ball through.

Now the tough part.  The reason I’m writing about ghettoball is to make a confession.  It’s been weighing on me for years.

One of my best friends is occasional blog commentor, Neil.  Neil and I were both points guards in high school (to whatever extent you can claim to “be” something while being inadequate at your job.  Oh, I’m an accountant, the only thing I’m bad at is math.  I thought we were good until I saw US high school games), so when it came to ghettoball, we rarely played on the same team.  We guarded each other, and I claimed it was a pretty even duel.

But truth be told…. it probably wasn’t. 

Neil, you were just better than me.  I tried to argue my side for years, but you were just too good.  That finger roll (with the white guy heel kick at the end) was unstoppable.  Your consistently intense defensive prowess was unrivaled (and often intimidating).   And your vision?  Man…. eagle style, with the peripheral vision of an owl (they probably don’t have any, since they can go exorcism-style-head, but whatever).

So there you have it.  A public forum for a heavy confession.

As much as that was a weight off my shoulders, I think we’d both agree we were no match for the sheer will of Hampson.  I mean, that one’s a given.

Pick-up games, in any sport, are when sports are at their purest.  You’re not playing for a damn thing but fun and some pride.  I miss those days.  As you get older and try to assemble a dozen buddy’s for a pick-up game of anything, tiddlywinks, it takes cancelling plans, finding babysitters, booking time off, getting spousal permission, just entirely too many things to make it work.

Those were the good ‘ol days, and I miss them.  Even if I was only fit to be Neil’s backup.

{Writers note: not nearly enough people referred to me as “Air Bourne” in those days.}

Scott Gordon and Halle Berry (…No Connection)

 

So, I’m sure I’m not alone in periodically liking (or disliking) something for reasons that are unbeknownst to even myself.  When the Islanders hired Scott Gordon, a guy I’d never heard of, I liked it, but wasn’t sure why.  Let me try to explain it to myself:

Some owners hire coaches to give their fans the impression they hired a good coach.  You know, a guy with a name, something that won’t cause a huge negative ruckus.  This means you end up recycling coaches based on fame, not success, and before you know it, Mike Keenan is running your franchise.

I’d love to see more coaches with lower level success work their way up the ladder.  Mike Babcock didn’t get the Red Wings job based on his days as a player, he got it cause he won with every damn team he coached.  I think the game today is well-suited for a young coach who understands the more free-wheeling NHL (hint: defense-first is still your focus), and I wouldn’t be surprised to see the hiring trend in this direction continue (again, St. Louis hiring Davis Payne was exceptional – he’s doesn’t have Babcock’s NHL success yet, but I believe he’s got the same ability).

So good for teams that hire Davis Paynes and Scott Gordons – if Tampa Bay would do the same, they’d find out real fast what sort of team they’re actually dealing with.

Islanders are in a playoff spot in the middle of January, Rick DiPietro just got a shutout, and a 19 year old is leading the team in scoring.  And the Red Wings are currently in 9th in the West.  AND THE COYOTES ARE TIED FOR HOME ICE ADVANTAGE AT FOURTH.  I’m dizzy.  I need to sit down.

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I doubt many of you watch much ECHL hockey.  So far this year, I’ve watched zero minutes and no seconds, so I know where you’re coming from.

Well, the Victoria Salmon Kings (real name) scored a goal so ridiculous it ran on ESPN SportCenter yesterday.  Yeah, it’s that good.

The goal made me think two things – one, that at that level, there are a few kids that are going to be legit NHL studs mixed in with a few who’re going to be legit rec league duds (though not many, you’d be surprised at the quality).  What that means is, occasionally, someone gets burned so bad they should be forced to take their gear off and quit.  If that were the case, the Islanders Andrew Macdonald would’ve put entire teams into retirement during his months in Utah.

Secondly, it made me shudder at the sound of their goal song.  I was twice on teams that eliminated Victoria from playoffs, but when you’re on the wrong end of a game there, and that crowd gets fired up, it’s real easy to post a plus/minus that looks like Tiger got hot at The Masters. 

Oh, minus five, good hustle Bourne.

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Really, Dwayne Johnson… “The Tooth Fairy”?  I guess we can finally start calling him “The Rock Bottom”.

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I watched the Golden (Halle Berry’s) Globes on Sunday night, and thought it might be worth mentioning that I, like pretty much everyone else, love me some Ricky Gervais.  That guy is money.  Also, Halle Berry continues to defy human aging laws.  ———->

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Puck Daddy wrote an interesting bit on Mike Richards battle with the media.  The guy is the perfect captain for that team o’ douches. 

Here’s what sucks about how fun it is hating them: if they can get some GD goaltending (I feel like I’ve written that before), wouldn’t you not want your highly rated team to play them in the first round of playoffs?  If I’m Buffalo or New Jersey, I’m praying the Isles or Panthers sneak in.  I’d be interested to see the betting lines on them come playoffs, they might make for a sneaky round one money-maker.

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That’s all for today!  Sorry no Monday post – I was super busy watching FIVE STRAIGHT HOURS of Dexter with Bri. 

Behind Brodeur

 

I watched the Coyotes/Devils game last night from all of ten feet behind Martin Brodeur’s back (and Bryzgalov’s in the second), standing in the zamboni doors with Stan (The Man, The Maven) Fischler.  I love that man, and watching from there, with him, was amazing.  Huge thank you to the great people at MSG+ for including me in the production of last nights broadcast.

Even when I attend Coyotes games as a member of the media, I can’t handle sitting in the press box.  Honestly, I can’t fathom how anyone can give insightful game reviews from up there.  Not a dig to those that choose to, and are able to, I just can’t get a feel for the game if I’m not closer to the speed of it.

Sitting where I was, I could see Yandle make a look-off with his eyes before firing the puck at Lombardi’s stick.  I could see Mueller’s eyes down before he (luckily) beat Brodeur five-hole (who goes five-hole on a padstack?).  You can get a legitimate idea for who’s doing what out there, instead of watching for strictly x’s and o’s like you have to do from eagle perspective.  Maybe it just doesn’t work for my type of writing.

The point is, sitting back there was one of my favourite hockey-watching experiences ever. 

I was shocked to note two things I should’ve long-ago noted: Marty’s simple helmet design is really sharp, and for some reason, it’s never registered with me that Brodeur wears #30.  I bet if you’d asked me yesterday pre-game, I couldn’t have answered that correctly.  Embarrassing.

Watching his huge two-pad jammer on Upshall from mere feet away was surreal.

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I still get super nervous before doing stuff like this, so cut me some slack:

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So, no girls-in-skirts cleaning the ice, huh Phoenix?  It seems to me like this is the exact market they’d have that going on, so I asked the guy running the crew there what the deal was (ice crew also stands in zam gates – paid $8.50 an hour to have the best seats in the arena).

Here’s the end of a conversation I had with an unnamed staff member, explaining why the girls-in-skirts got outed for dudes-in-tracksuits:

 ”Girls are too unreliable.  They would call an hour before the game and bail out.”

“…Girls are too unreliable?”

“Well, the type that want to be displayed in skirts in an igloo are.”

“Ahhh, yep.”

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John Tortorella has the exact personality you want your head coach to have, but I’m starting to think he might be a “work ethic” coach over a “systems” guy.  In translation, he’d be a great junior coach, but maybe not so much of an NHL one.

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I had an awkward, hallway walk-by with Brodeur after the game.  Just him and I, going in opposite directions in a smallish hallway where you should probably at least acknowledge the other person.  I had roughly seven seconds to think of something clever to say to him once I saw him coming down the hall.

I nodded.

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I tried to explain the player-ref on-ice relationship in an article for The Hockey News - It’s a tad long, but I think it includes the funniest thing I’ve done as a writer…. I convinced them to link the words “stubborn ECHL refs” to something awesome.  Enjoy.

Sutton, Bergeron, and NYI Training Camp

 

Today, I learned that my beliked hometown Phoenix Coyotes really, really didn’t appreciate the pre-season article I wrote on them.  And in turn, they really, really don’t appreciate me.

I’ll admit, today’s blog is late because of frustration.  This is the fourth time I’ve started today’s entry, and I’ve decided to just keep it light as usual.  I’m going to do my best to win my way back into their good graces.  It’s probably worth mentioning that the facilities in Glendale are spectacular, the Westgate shopping area is scintillating, the Coyotes are Cup-contenders and I’m heading out to buy a jersey. 

And that Shane Doan is super handsome!

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Here’s a fun story:

I’m trying out for the New York Islanders in Moncton, New Brunswick.  It’s our first intrasquad game, and my team is pretty decent.  I’m on a line with Jason Gregoire (who I suspect Isles fans will know in a matter of years) and Tyler Haskins, a potential grinder-with-skill that could easily replace, say, Sean Bergenheim in a matter of…. hours.

Early in the game, the puck gets dumped in deep, and I get on my horse to make sure I finish my check.  Head up, I notice that the defenseman going back on the puck is 6′6″ Andy Sutton, who has the common sense to move the puck quickly and effeciently, as a good NHL d-man should do.

Being the hustle-pot tryout kid that I was, I continued on to finish my check a few Mississippis later than necessary, and bounced off Sutton like someone threw a rock at a trampoline.

I head back to back-check, and their team dumps it in.

As the right winger, I hustle back to my wall to get my skates below the hash-marks, open up and provide an option for my defenseman (and friend and future roomate) Jordy Hart who has solid possession of the puck behind our net.

Yep!

YEP!

HARTY, YEAH!

Nothing.

We’re moving up the ice, him weighing his options like he’s picking which door the prize is behind, getting way too far up the ice.

By the blueline, he decides I get the prize.

The prize happens to be Andy Sutton’s shoulder, moving at a speed of WHOCARESITSANDYSUTTON (who, total random sidebar, treated the rookies like dogmeat).

They whistled the play down and gave Sutton a charging penalty, while I tried to stay away from the light.  Once I pulled my visor up from around my chin, our coach asked if I could go with my line on the next shift.  As a Canadian kid who played for a hockey Hitler in junior, I knew the answer was yes, regardless of truth.

When I jumped the boards a tad weak-kneed, I was lucky the play was in the offensive zone.  I headed straight for the net.  As I got out there, the puck was being cycled up from the corner to Marc-Andre Bergeron, he of the unnaturally hard slapshot.  I opened up and faced him to screen the goalie as I got to the crease.

Between my glove and my elbow pad, I helped their goalie by saving the puck with my wrist.  The puck then dropped at my feet, where I grabbed it, then blindly spun and fired.  And scored.

Half-concussed, and with what felt like a complete absense of sensation in my right arm (but lots in my wrist), I had scored a goal on my second shift of NHL training camp competitive play, complete with the knowledge that you should never hit Andy Sutton, and never try to screen a MA Bergeron howitzer. 

And that it’s probably time I think about becoming a writer.

One Night in Vegas

 

So, I need better (or more) sites to read for sports info and entertainment, so I’m soliciting your advice – what are your “must-hits”? 

Why isn’t there a less-pc ESPN?   I’d love to have the information of ESPN, but without the politically correctness of a major news station.  Just a bunch of guys who can deliver news articles with headings like “Kurt Warner is playoff hero, douche bag.”

In fact, I wouldn’t even need actual sources.  I’d like to read someone who takes every ESPN article, and the second it comes out, funnies it up.  It’s sports, not CNN fellas.

CC Sabathia signs 165 million dollar contract, receipt at Krispy Kreme.

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So, I went to VEEEEGAAAAAAS! this past Thursday night, one night only.

The miles you put on in Vegas is breathtaking.  I literally wore through my sandals when I was there with Bri, and would have done the same this time if the new ones weren’t the type where they pour cheap rubber into a mold - they end up lasting for ALL ETERNITY because there’s no fabric on them.

This happens because you can’t just stay at one place.  Staying at one place in Vegas would be like going to Vegas and only seeing one place.  It’d be really, really like that.

So like the Jay Z song, you’re “on to the next one, on to the next one”.  And of course, Vegas is unlike anywhere in the world in terms of cost range.  You can do it on the cheap, or you can do it on the HOLYCRAPLOOKHOWRICHIAM, which is a slightly different level.

Bri and I were patient.  We’d hunt down the cocktailer (remember the Friends where Joey thinks it’s normal for his tailor to move his junk from side to side to measure his inseam?  He was a different type of cocktailer), get in front of her, put a buck in a slot machine and order two beers.  “We’re playing, see?”  Buck in the slot, two to the girl = three bucks, two beers and the chance to win something (you drink free when gambling, if you didn’t pick that up).

Thursday night, we were a little more rushed, so we just stopped by one of the mid-casino bars.  Two shots.  Two beers.  38 dollars.  BEFORE TIP.  What’s worse, is that no lube was provided.

As you can imagine, the morning after a Vegas evening feels a little like fighting one of those Mexicans boxers in the 103 pound weight class, where you never really get knocked out, but you JUST. KEEP. GETTING. HIT.

My morning after involved sitting at an RV auction where the auctioneer JUST. KEPT. TALKING. and the lady acknowledging bids just straight yelled.  Hangover worst-case-scenario.  I guess I deserved it.

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With my fiance gone, I find myself doing shit I don’t even like doing, cause this is my big chance, y’know?  Like not making the bed or doing the dishes, when in reality, I love a clean kitchen and tidy bed.  I’m leaving clothes around just because, as a male, I feel obligated to.  I dunno.  I’m not sure what I’m trying to prove here.

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Now’s the time to sign up for the Hockey Greats Fantasy Camp if you’d like to save yourself some dough.  Check out www.bournevents.com.

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And last for this morning — I’ll be on MSG+ this Thursday when the Devils take on the Coyotes, between the second and third periods.  Strong chance I heap praise on both teams, then launch a verbal blitzkreig at Jovonovski for being a crappy, cheap excuse for a defenseman. 

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