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:

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2010 Vancouver Paralympic Sledge Hockey Tournament Preview

-by Jeff Bourne

(Note – before you read this, check out HOCKEY MONKEY COUPONS.)

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!!

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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.

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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

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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.

*****

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.

*****

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

*****

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.  ———->

*****

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.

*****

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.

*****

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

 *****

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.”

*****

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.

*****

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.

*****

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!

*****

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 absence 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.

*****

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.

*****

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.

*****

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.

*****

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. 

Goaltenders, and The Crazy People Who Write About Them

 

Bourne’s Blog Fantasy Hockey League is a breeding ground for gambling glory.  And now that I’m not under the scrutiny of the NCAA, I like to participate in occasional frequent as many bets as humanly possible (as an aside, NCAA, I frequently played and lost poker with your scholarship money.)

Last week, I beat the tarnation out of fellow hockey writer “Ms. Conduct” (An epic 5-4 lashing).

Ms. Conduct, fittingly, is crazy – fittingly, that is, because she’s a goaltender, and writes about them.  Since this is not my area of expertise, I am collecting my winnings in the form of a day off from blogging, while she discusses the goalie position with you.  If you like her stuff, you can check out more on her site here - main focus on the Minnesota Wild, goalies, and the Houston Aero’s.  Oh, and Barry Brust.  She also writes for InGoal Magazine.

*****

I suppose there are worse fantasy hockey bets to lose than having to write a blog post. I mean, it’s what I do anyway. My orders are to write about goaltending, which is good because I don’t know anything else, but I don’t have one big, consecutive thought on anything in particular, so I’m just gonna dive in and wander around.

First off, did you catch Tim Thomas let that goal in during the Winter Classic because he was busy giving Scott Hartnell the business for tripping him a few seconds earlier?

One of the first things I learned about myself when I started playing goal last year was that I’m one mean effin’ goalie. You should see the looks of shock I get from these guys I play. I guess because there’s a pony tail hanging out the back of my mask, I’m supposed to be demure.  Oops, guess I missed that memo, boys!

So, I get it, Timmy. That curly-headed punk slew footed you and needed to pay for it. But seriously, how do you lose focus that badly with the puck moving furiously in your zone? I’ve certainly done it but I haven’t been playing (and learning those important lessons about maintaining composure) for 20+ years like Timmy has.

On one hand, if I were a Bruins fan and they‘d lost because of that, I’d have thrown my CHOWDAH at him.

On the other hand, it kinda makes me feel better about myself as a newbie goalie. Even the Vezina winners have their amateur moments. It’s kinda always how I feel when I watch Vesa Toskala.

Oh, Tosky. I know, he’s an easy whipping boy, but his game is starting to become a serious fascination for me. So much that when fellow Wild blogger, Elise, from 18,568 Reasons Why was making maple leaf cookies, she even made a Vesa Cookie and sent me a picture. How righteous is that?

He really doesn’t seem like that bad of a goalie technically. I‘ve seen worse guys in the NHL in that respect, but he never ever EVER gets a friendly bounce. EVER.

It’s like, all goalies have their bad nights where things just don’t go their way. But EVERY night is a bad night for Toskala. And I find myself watching Leafs games where he’s in net just to see what manner of monkey-poo-fling the hockey gods have in store for him, and subsequently, Leafs fans.

It makes me feel better, because often he’s scored on in ways that I’m scored on. You know, a little floater that bounces on top of your pad and some hack whacks it in like a freakin‘ tee shot. Or you leave a tiny gap to the post that the shooter lucks the puck into. Or some a-hole dumps it in on net from the opposing blue line and it takes a funny hop into the net. Augh!

Anyway… Toskala is fun to watch for all the wrong reasons. Not sure what he did to become karma’s court jester, but it’s stuck to him like glue.

But that does bring me to something else I’ve been mulling lately. I went to the Kings vs. Isles game in Kansas City during pre-season. I was super excited to see Nathan Lawson, because Justin had sold me on his big time puck-playing skills with a bonus potential for the brand of crazygoalie I so enjoy.

And while I did enjoy him, it was Jonathan Quick in the other net who captivated me and still does. And I can’t figure out why.

Normally it’s Gambler Goalies that I love to watch. The ones who don’t hesitate to skate out well past the hash marks to play the puck or poke check. The ones who, when a scrum develops around the net, are drawn into it rather than taking the puck for a quiet skate in the corner. The ones who hold that glove save out a couple of beats longer than necessary just to remind you who‘s your daddy.

But I think the bottom line is that some goalies, like Quick, just have “it” regardless of their style of play, and people can see “it” but can’t necessarily put a finger on “it.”

Another goalie who has “it” is Matt Climie, who plays for the AHL Texas Stars. His style isn’t particularly unusual, but he’s just got this… way… about him. I’ve interviewed him and he’s not a particularly imposing guy off the ice, but on the ice, he looks 6’7”. And he’s just zen personified in net. Completely opposite of my favorite style of goalie, but I can’t tear my eyes off of him. That is “it.”

Finally, a question for Bourne‘s Bloggers: In a recent article, Marc-Andre “I smile a lot because my lips don’t fit over my giant chiclets” Fleury said, “I’m not a hockey player, I’m a goalie.”

The context was in initially trying to get a date with his current girlfriend (of 8 years… put a ring on it, Flower, for shit’s sake), who said she wouldn’t date a hockey player.

But it got me thinking. Some goalies really do seem like hockey players and some goalies seem like goalies. No offense to goalie goalies of course, as I‘m 100% in that group. On my game nights, I don’t even think of it as “going to play hockey.” I think of it as “going to play goal.”

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I do kind of think of certain goalies as more hockey players and others as pure goalies. One of our goalies in Houston, Barry Brust, is one such goalie. He’s one of my all time favorite tenders, but I also think he could strap on the player gear and play out with pretty reasonable success.

But what do you think? Is there a difference in attitude or toughness that would put goalies in separate buckets like that? Do skaters think of goalies as hockey players? Or are they like kickers in football (except way more important, better looking, and can actually get in the Hall of Fame)? Let me have it.

Couple Blurbs ‘N Links

I know it’s been a long time -  I shouldn’t have left you… without a dope beat to step to, but I was having some holiday hullabaloo with the fam.  Had my brother in town which was cool.  We rocked a lil Buck Hunter, a Coyotes game, hit the zoo, the whole deal.  I’m back on the Bourne’s Blog horse today.

 

*****

The Coyotes game we went to was great.  Major thanks to Doug Moss for taking care of my family.  And congratulations to Shane Doan on his 1000th career game… that’s crazy man.  My Dad played 14 years and got to 962, and my father-in-law-to-be played 14 years and hit 958 (though it might be worth noting that they combined for over 300 playoff games too, compared to Shane’s 32, but still, wow…. his achievement makes me feel old, I feel like I remember his whole career.)

Far and away, the highlight of the game was the blanket giveaway – we had three girls at the game, and nothing ruins everyones mood like cold girls.  So that was sweet.

*mumbling* AlsotheCoyoteslookreallygoodthisyear,Ireallyamimpressed… it turns out I WAS WRONG.

*****

We have a gay superstar.  Only, not on this continent.  One of Rugby’s biggest stars, Gareth Thomas, has come out.

*****

You must be pining for a new column from me, it’s been ages.  It’s tough to focus on hockey around the holiday season.  Let me tell ya aboot the players take on how that goes.  (If you like the article, feel free to comment or click “recommend” – I’d love to contribute more to their newpaper than a column every two weeks.)

*****

Name-dropping:  I sent Goligoski a text complaining about his fantasy hockey performance of late (he’s been hurt a few times), and he told me to trade his stock while it’s still worth something, cause he sucks. 

What other sport do players so consistently turn to self-deprication?  I have to believe it’s because we play such a humbling sport.  Just when you think you’ve got it figured, some guy puts it through your wickets, you toe pick and chip a tooth.  Or this whole “nobody’s bigger than the game thing” is really working out well, one of the two.

*****

Oh, and then there’s this -  the puppy dog re-creation of the Snooki punch from that high-quality TV drama “Jersey Shore”.  Pure, unadulterated win.

 *****

 More to come later – I gotta catch up on the work that earns me money!  Thanks for readin!

Merry Christmas!

 

Merry Christmas, blog readers.

The Bourne family Christmas, for the first time ever, is taking place in Phoenix, Arizona (missing Dad and Aunt Kathy, I must mention).  And to further the stereotype of the unprepared male, I need to do some wrapping.  The blog will be back in action Monday the 28th.  Until then, I’ll be spending time with the family.  Hope it’s a good one for you and yours!

Tiger Woods sits down on Santa’s lap to ask for his Christmas presents.  As he sits down, Santa goes “Ho Ho Ho!”

Tiger goes “Where Where Where???”

Fantasy Hockey Checkpoint

 

Happy holidays everyone!

I hear it’s been a tad, um, blustery out on the east coast.  Which sounds fun and all, but I ran in shorts and a t-shirt here this weekend…. so I’ll just go preemptively eff myself.  Thanks.

*****

Did anybody else think the punch Barret Jackman snuck in on Alex Burrows last night was a bigger deal than the commentators made of it?  Judging by the lack of video of it online, I’m sure I’m over-reacting here, but I was hoping some Canucks or Blues fans saw the play and could shed some light on it.

Basically, it looked to me like Burrows crashed the Blues crease after the whistle, so Jackman snuck off his right glove to give him a solid suckerpunch to the lips.  It all happened so fast it looked pretty inconspicuous, but if that’s really what happened, that’s some vicious intent right there.  Maybe the league should give the play a quick once-over.

*****

 

The Bourne’s Blog Hockey League has reached the halfway point.  Mile 13.1 of this marathon (week 11 of the regular season), people, and it’s time for a little review.

This is my first year playing fantasy hockey, and as I’ve mentioned before, I’m loving it.

I went with head-to-head as the format, because I figured that way it would stay interesting throughout the whole year.  Even if you’re getting shellacked, you can still play (and bet) against your opponent from the week to salvage some joy from the torture (I was looking out for MY best interests going into the season).  I’m sure some fantasy league are down to four or five players actually playing by the end of it, and nobody wants that (especially in our 20-team league).

The problems with the format are clear.  Some people *ahem* do really well statistically *ahem*, but have some bad luck in their matchups *A-HEM!* 

I’m sticking with my theory that the format becomes an elaborate game of “war” (the card game).  You can win with a seven if your opponent has a six, which is no more valuable than winning with an ace if you’re opponent has a two.  You just hope that eventually you get to play that ace you still hold at the right time.  And while I’m not-so-subtley masking my bitterness, I hate you all.

I’ve guaranteed that I will finished the year in the top five (I’m currently in FOURTEENTH of 20), and I’m not wavering from that.  My goalies are finally on the ball (I lost save percentage 2.23 to 2.22 last week thanks to Detroit pulling Howard against Dallas in the last couple minutes, apparently a few seconds too early), I’m close to getting healthy, and if I don’t start winning, I’ll just knock all the checkers off the board and declare that nobody won.  I am commish, after all.

Twice I’ve lost weeks where I’ve bet a temporary team-name-change, only to not hear from my opponent again (what, like I’m gonna seek you out?), and the two bets I have won have brought me much joy.

For next year, the Bourne’s Blog Fantasy League will be a pay league, where I’ll fly the winner out to hit a Coyotes game or two with me or something like that.  Whatever it is we decide, it’ll be a non-profit deal where you a-holes all have to pay attention to what your team is up to.

 So that’s where I’m at.  14th.  In a 20-team league. I have Datsyuk, Kopitar, Hossa, Stastny, Backes, J. Stall, Booth, Keith, Goligoski, and Kronwall, but can’t win.  So much for the advice I spew on an XM radio fantasy hockey show

I will now brace myself for the comment section of abuse.  Also, I will now prepare to deny the claims of the two teams who want to retroactively claim their “re-name Bourne’s team” prize. 

Hope the holidays are going great for everyone, my family is all here as of today for our first warm Christmas. (unfortunately exluding my Dad and Aunt who were unable to make it – boo - but including my brother who recently pump-faked us all on the whole “dying” thing then decided to just go back to being well by his 30th birthday.  So I’m pumped!)

 See ya tomorrow!

 

 

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