ScatterShot

Yesterday I took my filled-out forms and old Canadian passport to UPS, and planned to ship it to renewal headquarters in Quebec to get a new one (please no riots, please no riots).  After a healthy wait in line, the guy had me filling out forms like I was filing for citizenship, not just sending documents for proof of it.  And then this:

Yeah, there’s a lot of paperwork, man.  The Canadian border people can be a little facetious.

Still struggling to imagine what he thinks “facetious” means.

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Aside from the Hockey Greats Fantasy Camp that my Dad, brother and I run (which is partly for charity, partly for us to hemmorhage ungodly amounts of money into), I have another event to promote:

A great cause

For those of you in Kelowna, BC (my hometown), my brother is putting on a beer and burger charity event (100% of money is donated) for Spinal Cord Research, through the Rick Hansen Foundation.

Last year, Josh Gorges and his buddies were a part of it, and will be again this year.  It’s $20, which gets you a burger and two beers, there’s an auction with some sports memorabilia, and it’s at Sturgeon Hall Pub June 12th.  Last year Ryan Cuthbert bought a cherry pie for $150, just so you know what you’re getting into.  There’s already not many tickets left, so hit him up at jeff.bourne@gmail.com if you want some. 

 Tell him I sent you…. and you’ll get absolutely nothing free, cause it’s for charity, tightwad

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Today’s links: My column for Puck Daddy on what PLAYING IN A GAME SEVEN is like.  It’ll probably run around 4 EST.  There should be a second one later in the evening if you care to check back then,  I just need to create that one still.

My column for Hockey Primetime on WHY THE TIME A GAME STARTS AT MATTERS, which is an odd topic, but I just loved playing day games.

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I’ve decided Brian Burke is “Kenneth, the bad-ass mail clerk with the heart of gold” from Family Guy.  Not sure if you remember him (couldn’t find video), but here’s the transcript of his brief cameo:

Kenneth WILL cut you.

Peter: Yeah. The new owners gave everyone raises. Even Kenneth, the bad-ass mail clerk with the heart of gold.
[cut to mail room]
Peter: Hi, Kenneth. Hey, did I get any mail?
Kenneth: No! And if you come any closer, I’ll cut you!
Peter: Okay! Okay! Man, what a bad-ass!
Man: Yeah? Well that bad-ass just gave half his paycheck to orphans. Orphans with diseases!
[cue sentimental instrumental music]

Philly is too deep to shut down (unless you remember the regular season)

They’re over.  They’re just so utterly over.

I hate being “that guy” before the fat lady sings, but what am I supposed to say?  I just can’t see either team – Montreal or San Jose – winning four of the next five games against their (more talented) opponents.  They could steal a game or two, sure, but I just can’t fathom a way in which they could climb all the way out of the well.

You know what’s an effed up, crazy, please-don’t-ever-let-this-happen possibilty? 

We see three straight sweeps, and never see a team push back in a series.  Both teams sweep their way to the finals, and Chicago sweeps Philly.  It would be pretty ridiculous, but too many upsets on one side throws things all outta whack. 

Here’s to hoping for Montreal and San Jose wins tonight.

Thanks for your patience!  Too many outlets, not enough time these days!

Go Thursday.

The Perfect Salary Loophole

In an attempt to postpone the slow but steady journey from hockey player to fat cynical writer, I’ve given these so-called “Perfect Pushups” a try.  I gotta believe any product with “perfect” in it’s name is probably not the most reliable item to exchange legal tender for, but c’mon…  that guy on the box is jacked.

Anywho, they’re money.  They really are.  They better be, cause it’s shirt-off weather in Phoenix about 13 months a year, and I need to make some changes.  Apparently, a day of writing burns roughly four calories, and that sack of chocolate covered pretzels I just humbled contained a number similar to the national debt.

Moving on.

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How about those shade-ball owners in the NHL abusing the salary cap loophole?  I mean, come on.  For the Flyers to claim with a straight face that they think Chris Pronger has seven good playing years left is pretty feeble, isn’t it?  He’s got the operating speed and mobility of an early 90′s desktop computer, and they didn’t think it was just a little too obvious that they were trying to circumvent the salary cap?  I’ve seen more subtlety in Andrew Dice Clay jokes. 

Pleasedon'tmakemecrossover, pleasedon'tmakemecrossover...

For the uninformed, here’s a quick rundown of how and why you’re seeing massively long contracts:

NHL teams have a salary cap of $56.8 million for the 2009-2010 season.  The cap hit that each player costs is simple: the dollar total of their contract, divided by the amount of years.

Thus, in the case of Marion Hossa and Chris Pronger, they were signed to long term deals where they make the league minimum in the last few years, so the teams yearly cap hit comes down.  For example, Hossa signed for 12 years, roughly 60 million dollars.  But, he actually makes nearly 8 mill a season for the first seven years, then peanuts for the last five.  Instead of taking an eight million dollar cap hit (which is what they’re paying him), his contract works out to a five million dollar hit (60/12=5), so they Hawks are free to spend more money.

And now, an outside firm has been hired to figure out if the teams were intentionally signing guys to contracts that they weren’t actually going to play out.  Apparently, they’ve called the Hardy Boys, Sherlock Holmes, and the Scooby-Doo crew to crack this difficult case.  Pronger, $525,000 (league minimum) at 40?  Noooo, I’m sure he intends to play, right?

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Everytime I think about writing a book (which is becoming more often), this clip brings me back down to earth with a laugh.  Then I make a martini.

 ”

Ahhhh, crap that’s funny.

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So, our first celebs arrive tomorrow to hang out for a day or two before our Hockey Greats Camp starts, and I’ve got good news:  I will be blogging.  I’d be a fool not to.  Last year one of these guys told my Egyptian friend he looks like a half-chewed caramel.  These guys are a gold mine for material.

Over the  next day or two, the following is the group of gents we’ve enlisted to help make our camp a success (chosen on a formula of what great guys they are times how good they were):  Dave Semenko, Bryan Trottier, Steve Shutt, Billy Smith, Gary Nylund, Clark Gillies, Doug Bodger, Dale Hawerchuk, Ron Flockhart, Cliff Ronning and Larry Melnyk.  27 Stanley Cups between em.  Not bad.

I’ll be tweeting the frequent gems that stumble out of these guys booze-holes as the week goes on.

(Last year, the same tale was rehashed a half dozen times: A player gets beat when an opponent - frequently cited as being Pierre Laroche -- puts the puck between his feet and goes in to score.  After getting berated by his coach, the player says “Gee, I guess I shoulda kept my legs closed” to which the coach responds “No, your mother shoulda“.)

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And last, one more thing - Brianna gets here on Tuesday, marking the start of “NeverApartEverAgain time”.  Married men, pour one out for me.  Looking forward to it, honey! 

Hey, Quick Question…

This whole Ben Roethlisberger sex scandal is just so odd, isn’t it?

I mean, you never quite know how to take it when you hear of a professional athlete getting acused of something so serious.  Or at least I don’t.

Naturally, we start by juding their prior behaviour.  You can pick through Ben’s history with tweezers and not find drama.  But that doesn’t mean he didn’t do it.

As her account goes, she was the concierge at his hotel (he was at some golf event in Lake Tahoe), and he asked her to step into his room to look at his broken TV.  She comes in, and they (allegedly) have sex that only one person wanted to have, which, is sorta frowned upon by every person ever (not to make light of a potentially serious crime). 

It’s tough to form opinions on this stuff, because if he really did it, what an awful, sick, burn-in-hell human it turns out he is.  But if he didn’t do it, it still sucks for him - once “accused of rape” is on your resume, it always kinda mars your reputation, convicted or not.  It’s just such a shady situation.  It doesn’t help her case that you could see why she’d make something like that up if it turns out that she is slightly off-in-the-head.   There’s the national attention, plus, the guy is loaded.

I don’t think Ben’s guilty, for two reasons:  One, his prior record of misbehaving (never, aside from a sober motorcycle crash), and two, the fact that she’s listed something like eight people as defendants in a rape case, which unfortunately starts her off on the crazy-looking foot.

And other times, I think, wait… Isn’t my blog way too light-hearted for a topic like this?  And it is.  So I apologize.  Won’t happen again.  Let’s ask questions about more pressing issues…

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One: Is there any stress that comes on quicker and stronger than being in the right lane with a “right lane must turn” sign (let alone the ominous “right lane ENDS” signs)?  Especially with the cars to your left being in a steady, packed line?  Sheer panic.  Inner-skull pandemonium.

Two:  Why won’t the CFL just accept its role as an NFL farm system?  Everything would work a whole lot smoother (and develop more players, and better), if they just used a normal sized ball, and had an appropriate sized field.  Like adults do.  Know your role, CFL.  Right?

Ay, my father was a tree.

Three:  Can you watch the pirate (with the four wood limbs) on family guy and not laugh?

Four:  What baseball player would depress you the most to find out did steroids during their career?  Gotta be Cal Ripken, doesn’t it?  Mr. Iron Man himself?

Five:  Is there any word in our language more homosexual word than the word ”prancing” (especially in fuschia)?  Not really the way any male wants any of his movements described.  Just a thought.

Ha, so yeah, there’s a non-hockey pop quiz for today.  Enjoy the lull and enjoy the sun, before you know it’ll be strong coffee, slapshots and saves allll over again.

St. Patty's Pontifications

Happy St. Patricks Day!  As an Irish/Ukranian/CompleteMutt, today I claim the one that lets me join the festivities as an insider. 

How insane is St. Patty’s Day?  It’s the only day of the year where we blatantly celebrate drinking.  Sure, we drink on other holidays, but today is the day.  There are no other well-known holidays where we celebrate entire ethnic groups within the country.  It’s not like there’s a St. Rossi’s day where we all scarf an excess of cannoli’s.  But the Irish are nationally loved for their specialty (the bottle), and frankly… everyone’s okay with it.  Enjoy your St Patty’s Day!

Now let’s begin the randomness.

Nobody in sports writing is better than Bill Simmons.

It’s over.  He’s mastered the ability to smoothly phrase what the sports-loving average Joe says in the stands, while peppering it with wit that’s tough to find.

It seems at some point, life forces men to hang out with their “boys” a bit less.  It’s tough to justify a three beer lunch to your wife when you’re trying to save money for retirement and you had to pick up your kid from school on the way home.  Pff.  Women.

Reading Simmons makes you feel like you’re having that same conversation you would with the guys, but safely from your house.  Plus, when you get the vibe that Simmons is being a dick (which isn’t infrequent), you don’t have to fake interest like you might in person.  I do predict him getting too big for his britches at some point and saying something across the line, thus getting in some hot water.  He already walks a pretty thin line, but I love it.

Next:  Isn’t it time to give “that guy” in commercials his due?  I have no idea his name, but I know he’s hilariously subtle in more commercials than I can name.  I can’t really remember the products he’s been pushing either, all I know is I laugh at every commercial this guy is in.  Obviously not Dustin Pedroia, but the other guy.

The wink after “it’s called integrity” is key.

Moving along:  A smart hockey friend of mine that plays in the American League recently sent me this text, and he might be right: “Ovechkin is the best to ever play the game.  No question.  No debate.” 

I wanted the Canadian Crosby to just do it the right way like a good Canuck would, show him the way this game is supposed to be played, and he has.  The problem is, Ovechkin is so good, normal rules don’t apply.  It’s like playing one on five basketball on a Fisher Price hoop against seven year olds.  When you have that much of an advantage, it doesn’t matter what your opponent does.  He’s just that good.  I’m still gonna dunk, and Ovi is still going to take a slapbomb off some goalies collar bone, the crossbar and the mesh for a powerplay goal.

At a difficult economic time in the US, with a good product and a strong need for attendance, wouldn’t this be the worst possible time to implement fight-removal rules in the NHL?  Not that we should appeal to the lowest common denominator, but have you ever asked a non-hockey player why they like to watch?  Why they don’t watch boxing (or UFC), I’ll never know.

Regardless, the NHL will gladly take their money.  It’s a part of the game (for reasons that would warrant their own column, had the topic not been over-written), so let’s deal with that when we start turning away fans at the ticket windows.

Old school reference:  I kinda like Jim Carrey.  I  feel like Liar Liar is underrated in the all-time funny movie department.  Not top five maybe, but worthy of having in the collection.  I hadn’t thought of it in awhile until I saw the classic bit on Family Guy the other day:

Speaking of Family Guy, is the gay guy funny enough for everyone yet?  I can barely handle watching him or Herbert (shown here)without laughing (largely because the Isles/Sound Tigers Andrew McDonald does Herbert better than Herbert).  Check the hilarious homo here:

Anyways, enjoy today, and I dunno, maybe run a water through your liver at some point!  Just a little suggestion.       – Justin O’Burne (as the last name was only four generations back!)