Well, At Least the Maple Leafs Most Massive Mistakes Weren't Made by All-Too-Familiar Faces...4/24/2019 While I don't feel one way or the other about the successes or failures of the Maple Leafs, I'm going to take this time to pray for the city in which they play. I'm not particularly religious, nor do I care that Toronto's collective mental state is currently as fragile as Mike Babcock's ego after watching the Bruins hit 'play' on a re-run of Game 7's gone by. Instead, I'm hoping to offer a toxically fanatical following all the forgiveness they can get for the vile things they are inevitably going to direct at their favorite punching bags of past and present. Honestly, of all the players to make gargantuan, game-changing gaffs, those least likely to be offered any sort of pass were Jake Gardiner, Frederik Anderson, and William Nylander, and yet here we are with all four goals against that actually mattered being attributed to their all-too-familiar inefficiencies. Another promising season ended, in any form or fashion, by the Boston Bruins would have been an actualization of a nightmare for the Toronto Maple Leafs and their fans. However, Jake Gardiner contributing to it by being as sloppy in his cycling as the type of amateur laundry-doer that ends up with an unexpected influx of pink in his wardrobe is the most cold-sweat inducing version of that nightmare...
If there was anything that might trigger the postseason PTSD of Leafs' loyalists, Frederik Anderson almost literally leaking pucks that's he's spent all season stopping would be it...
If there were prophetic frustrations to be self-fulfilled in the eyes of infuriated fans they were all but guaranteed to be with William Nylander, so why wouldn't he be the one to seal the fate of a disappointing season's deja-vu with the type of turnover you're supposed to learn not to make by the time you start lacing your own skates...
I have far too much respect for professional athletes to ever argue that their mental toughness isn't strong enough to withstand the barrage of hostility that comes with underperforming in the eyes of a bi-polar fanbase that hates as passionately as it loves. That being said, if someone were to present the possibility that those most likely to unrelentingly dwell on players' pasts are actually their worst enemies then rendering Games 1-6 forgettable with a similarly self-sabotaged Game 7 loss to a familiarly fortunate foe would make for quite the convincing 'Exhibit A'.
0 Comments
Let's start by stating what, with the benefit of frame-by-frame, picture perfect hindsight, is blatantly obvious. It was a bad call. In fact, when you consider the extent to which the outcome of the play influenced the way it was disciplined, you could pretty easily say it was an egregious call. Of course, if the result of the hits, hooks, slashes, and high sticks exchanged between fast and physical players during heated and high-stakes competition didn't play a huge factor in how they are officiated then Game 7 powerplays would be about as common as Joe Thornton barbershop visits. With the result of this particular instance being as ugly as a star player laying lifeless while gushing blood all over the ice from his previously broken face, I actually feel this rare and uncomfortable urge to sympathize with the referees who were denied the luxury of replay in looking at a collision that appeared far more egregious on first glance...
Still, they made a very bad, game-changing call that monumentally swung momentum. That much is undeniable. Luckily, you need not look further back than about an hour for a reminder that bad calls go both ways, as the same player who was unjustly tossed for what should have been a mere crosschecking minor celebrated the upholding of one after extending the Knights' lead with a fairly conspicuous high stick...
Admittedly it would be moronic to expect any team to come out the other side of a continuous 5-minute loss in manpower unscathed, especially on the road against an opponent as skilled and desperate as a loaded Sharks' team whose season was on the line. Still, while killing such a belaboring bullshit penalty would have been an ask that made "can you pick me up from the airport at rush hour?" seem reasonable, putting your proverbial hands up, blocking even one of its punches, and offering the least bit of resistance so as to not get brutally bludgeoned by it is not....
Christ, the only killing the Golden Knights were complicit in was of themselves as they repeatedly left usual suspects like Logan Couture and Tomas Hertl locked, loaded, and entirely unchecked in and around the slot. Pulling the plug on untimely powerplays, be they deserved or not, is a massive part of postseason success and Vegas basically stood around looking electrocuted as they got picked apart by a unit whose most notable net front presence was in the locker room bleeding profusely from his mangled mouth. We're talking about a three goal lead evaporating (and then some) in a matter of minutes. Human error is a part of the game and, all things considered, a lot more of it went into the chickens-with-their-heads-cut-off-type cataclysmic collapse than went into a presumptuous penalty call that was peer-pressurized by a pissed off crowd. Simply put, unless the officials were literally dropping pucks past Marc-Andre Fleury on the face-off, that type of meltdown is not entirely on them. Made possible by them (and their outlawed lack of a closer look), for sure, but excusing the type of preposterously pathetic penalty killing that allows for four goals in as any minutes is not something I'm about to do when discussing a sport whose postseason has always put a premium on perseverance. The fact of the matter is that shit is inevitably going to happen during an extensive Stanley Cup playoff run. The pile that the Golden Knights had flung at their feet was far bigger than most, but it's how quickly you rid yourself of the stink after stepping in it that determines your destiny. Therefore, I feel pretty comfortable in saying that Vegas wasn't destined to do much more than advance past what was basically a rickety, seatbelt-less roller coaster of a first round if it took only one mistaken called major penalty to erase all the work they'd put towards having a 3-0 lead in the determining period of a series with which they once held a three games to one advantage.
Add it to the long list of narratives. It's about the least interesting and most idiotic angle you could possibly focus on while watching the series finale to what's been an oddly unstable show, but it's an angle nonetheless. Gerard Gallant is allegedly classless for talking a little shit to the occasional opposing player, and Peter DeBoer is allegedly classless for exaggerating the proverbial size of Gerard Gallant's mouth to the media. Personally, you can spare me all of the class when it comes to the neighborhood dog fight that is a winner-take-all battle between overly familiar opponents. The louder, the brasher, the...more clownish(?) the better, as far as I am concerned. However, I can certainly understand frustrations arising while doing the thankless task of trying to comprehend what the hell is going on in this series. Even just trying to figure out whether it's Martin Jones the zero or Martin Jones the hero in net on a nightly basis must have anxiety levels at all-time high behind both benches. When you consider that the Golden Knights looked to be ones ferociously feeding after having smelled blood in the water late in Game 4, Peter DeBoer is probably about as tired of his team being on the ropes as Gerard Gallant is of trying to make sense of how his team also found their backs located there. Mix in the Joe Thornton suspension, his unforgiving response to it, the psychically and verbally expressed hatred between Evander Kane and Ryan Reaves, and you end up with the type of mercilessly merciful Game 7 where everyone involved is at their wit's end. Of course, that should only manifest itself in more entertainment for the viewing audience, but it has clearly manifested itself in overly sensitive irritability amongst those that have had to answer to the up's and down's of a two-week duel between divisional rivals that despised each other about as quickly as they grew acquainted with one another.
In the sense that the NHL and their crew of officials is about as good as explaining themselves in the moment as a man whose been caught with his pants down and his dick up, I do understand the frustration. You've got game-changing goals being waved off, and the best reasoning provided by a professional hockey league is basically that of an irritable mother telling her teenage son to take the garbage out for the tenth time in ten minutes. Simply put, as fans, we deserve better answers than those that more or less amount to "because I said so" from referees that were just given plenty of time to come up with a description of what happened while watching it over and over again at 1/100th of the speed. That being said, now that we have been offered a belated explanation, I fail to see how anyone could say it's one that is definitively wrong...
Questionable? Sure. Controversial? What judgment call that keeps a lead alive in an elimination game isn't? The product of some anti-Capitals conspiracy that serves as undeniable proof that a broken system is broken? Yeaaaaah, no. Because there is legitimately no angle that tells me otherwise, I'm left to believe the puck was loose somewhere underneath Petr Mrazek's pads. Therefore, it stands to reason that using a stick to push said pads, to the point where it undergoes a non-ironic weird flex, back towards the net is primarily what propelled said loose puck into the net... As is the main reason that borderline decisions are deemed to fall on a border's line, I wouldn't have taken issue with whatever direction the NHL happened to fall in ruling on such an impactful play. I'd hear you out if you wanted to argue that it shouldn't matter that Alexander Ovechkin jabbed the goaltender en route to the puck because the goaltender had a better chance of guessing which hand I had my beer in than guessing where the puck was. However, consider me deaf to the incessant and illogical bitching of Capitals' fan that are coming damn close to making my ears bleed. No one is out to get the reigning champs during what's been a preposterously unpredictable postseason where their presence would be even more appreciated in the next round. Referring to a 50/50 call in implying as much is as crazy as Alexander Ovechkin himself, so perhaps the opinion of the person who had their game-tying goal disallowed in the third period of a playoff game isn't the end all, be all. You're entitled to think it's a bad call, but to go to the extreme that it's one that's impossible to understand is objectively idiotic.
Seeing as he's already being hailed as a savior of sorts to a New Jersey Devils' lineup whose annual search for a second top-six center somehow always leads back to Travis Zajac, you'd think I'd be throwing around bleach by the bucket-full in cleansing my walls after watching Jack Hughes post a 7-spot against Slovakia. However, the truth is that there wasn't much to take away from a effort that was, for lack of a better description, statistically stupid, as all it proved is that he might as well be playing against actual infants in going up against his own peers. The same couldn't be said yesterday when he had some struggles against Sweden, but - as for today - someone who looks 12 years old with his helmet off had his opponent looking like they were the type to be overly proud of each and every pubic hair once he put his helmet on. Simply put, it was a performance that taught me nothing that I didn't already learn lusting over every available highlight since the fateful night of April 9th. That doesn't mean I wasn't rocking a wry smile after each and every tally, but it does mean that Jack Hughes is so supremely skilled that he almost made a touchdown-like point total look too easy to truly appreciate. That's obviously a great sign, but if we're being completely honest then it was a pretty guilty watch once the third period got to looking like a pro-bullying PSA about as quickly as Jack Hughes has dumbfounded teenage defenseman doing damage control.
I do my best to avoid pointing to a single circumstance - throughout a competitive 60 minute contest filled with hundreds of consequential decisions, bouncing pucks, and moving parts - in saying "that one thing right there completely changed the game", so I won't do it here either. Specifically in the sports, the butterfly effect is far too real for its wings to be clipped in the process of trying to give a clean and convenient explanation to the otherwise inexplicable sequences of events that play out on an NHL ice surface come late April and on. All that being said, I'm also not going to sit here and pretend that the goddamn hockey gods can't be a blasphemous bunch of sadists. The fact that the argument can even be made that Kevin Hayes, during his most productive game as a member of the Winnipeg Jets...
...went on to counterproductively change the entire outlook of the series by accidentally going full-on Robin Hood in stealing a sure goal from himself only to gift just a little bit of life to a Blues' team that could have potentially been buried by it is absolutely insane. Again, it's impossible to know what would have gone on to happen had his stick grazed that puck on its way towards the net as opposed to its way back, but coming back from down three goals in a raucous arena on the road is undeniably more difficult than doing so from two goals down. You can bet your ass that fact wasn't lost Kevin Hayes as that replay ran through his head on repeat and he tossed and turned his way to shitty slumber last night. After all, playoff hockey being so preposterously unpredictable doesn't cause any emotional detachment to the thrilling and/or deflating effect of deflections that, in certain situations, might as well be destiny defining dice rolls.
No Amount Of Overdramatizing The Play That Injured Him is Going to Help TJ Oshie Heal Any Faster4/19/2019
Look, I get it. I really do. As far as American hockey players are concerned, TJ Oshie is a goddamn rockstar. If that wasn't made clear when he singlehandedly ripped Putin's cold, dead heart from its body five years ago than it damn sure was when he was running around the nation's capital binge drinking championship beers through his shirt regardless of time and place as if the social laws of society didn't apply to him this past summer. Therefore, anything that costs us his beloved presence on the ice is almost guaranteed to be treated as it were as tragic as a terrorist attack. With that being said, while the play that did cost us his beloved presence on the ice was dangerous, it wasn't exactly unfitting of an inherently dangerous sport during the time of year when it's at its most fast and physical. Of course, a shove of a crosscheck into the swell of an opposing player's back, be it ten feet from the boards or two feet from the boards, is never not illegal, but it's also not anything close to uncommon. Warren Foegele (who did himself no favors with the following idiotic explanation, by the way) earned his two minutes, but let's not act like there would be any cries for five and/or a suspension if not for a slick skater's edge betraying him at the most inopportune of time.
TJ Oshie, who is no stranger to bruising hockey, wasn't anywhere near as defenseless as some are making him out to be when he was hit, as he's played far too much playoff puck to be unaware that contact is constantly coming (as evidenced below). He was made that defenseless when his skate did what it wouldn't do 99.9% of the time in awkwardly giving out from under him.
I hate to say so insensitively because the postseason is better when TJ Oshie is a part of it, but shit happens. Sometimes it's really just as simple as that when you are talking about a bunch of professional athletes zipping around the rink and pounding each other all over a sheet of ice in desperate hopes of realizing their dream. Warren Foegele certainly could have played the situation in a much smarter way that would have guaranteed everybody's safety, but you could say the same about almost every player, including the one who was left clutching his arm in agony, involved in a puck battle during the playoffs. Simply put, just because the result was injury doesn't mean the intent was. If you want to argue the outcome warranted a major then fine, but save your Tom Wilson comparisons for a circumstance in which there's an actual comparison to be made. After all, it was hardly full-force or an unforgivable predatory play that pushed TJ Oshie in the general direction of the boards before shit did what it has the tendency to do in the unforgiving confines in which insanely competitive contact sports take place and...well...happened. In fact, it was probably one that you could find he, himself harmlessly committing at some prior point in this series if you were at all interested in anything other than being outraged by his unfortunate absence.
The main problem, other than an inexplicable percentage of shots finding the back of the Sharks' net, is that this was far too predictable. By that, I don't mean it was inevitable that Martin Jones would end up MIA after having been burnt by a rough night in Las Vegas like Doug from 'The Hangover'. Rather, I mean that they should have known they might have to make up some such shitty excuse to protect what little, entirely shaken confidence he has been playing with all year by shielding him from the media more successfully than he's shielded the puck from the net. Of course, goaltending hasn't been San Jose's only problem throughout what's shaping up to be a short and sour playoff run. Just last night their two stud defenseman got walked around like they were as permanent in their defensive position as actual studs...
...thus making way for the game to get out of hand and for two of their 30 goal scorers to get mercifully escorted off the ice like they were being led to the principal's office for being juvenile jackasses during the formality of a final period to an absolute mollywhoppin'...
Still, the fact that the best thing I've seen in the Sharks' crease is their backup goaltender's pads (which are fire, for the record) speaks directly to how many times they've had their back broken by bad goals. Like, even if Martin Jones was as lost literally as he has been figuratively, it's not like his team could enlist the services of the puck as part of the search committee with it being unable to find him since the series started. Of course, it's even more inexcusable for veteran leaders like Brent Burns and Erik Karlsson to let themselves get treated by pylons while knowing their last line of defense has been offensive, so there is plenty of blame to get passed around. I just think a lot of that blame should be directed at their front office for not being proactive and presumably needing more than decades of undeniable proof that you need consistent and competent goaltending in the postseason. Most of the mental immaturity and physical mistakes can be attributed to the players, but the team having nowhere to turn when they need even a mildly big save is on the organization, as Martin Jones has long left far more juicy rebounds than doubt to the type of leaky goaltender he's been all season.
I'll admit, peaking at the wrong time during the regular season is absolutely something that can come back to haunt you during the Stanley Cup Playoffs. In fact, I'll even go as far as conceding that the NHL's most prolific scorer who no-showed two playoff games before selfishly and stupidly getting himself suspended for a third didn't have too many satisfying responses at his disposal when it came to answering to his team getting soullessly swept. That being said, on the long, long list of unsatisfactory responses, referring to some sort of slow organizational watch following a 62-win season is second only to "well, I had a vacation scheduled, so..." in terms of absolutely infuriating answers. Blaming the stars for their refusal to align in your favor following an unlucky overtime bounce in Game 7 is one thing. Talking fate after getting brushed aside quicker than Spring cleaning is quite another. A failure to adopt an astrologically friendly offense isn't what has Tampa Bay icing their asses at home as opposed to getting ready to regain home ice advantage. Entitlement, maybe. Complacency, probably. A false sense of security, definitely. But for sure not some Daylight Savings Time-style shift in their competitive clock. This Lightning team was as built for success as any team in the history of hockey, so skirting accountability by pointing the finger at vague, mystic circumstances immediately after the Columbus Blue Jackets finished picking the final remnants of professional pride out of their brooms is evidence of mental weakness throughout a locker room that's the furthest thing from short on physical talent. Perhaps it's just a coincidence that Nikita Kucherov was the one that happened to speak to it while in the process of trying to explain an inexplicable embarrassment. However, it's quite fitting as his absentee series alone is a pretty perfect example of the Tampa Bay Lightning waiting for the wins to come easy as opposed to going out there and taking what they earned. Artemi Panarin certainly can't relate...
For it to still be a surprise that the NHL postseason is a fickle beast whose results so often fly in the face of 82 games worth of evidence to everything we thought we knew requires a dedication to logic and rationale that is entirely unwelcome in most hockey circles this time of year. Therefore, while we weren't yet to the point where the unexpected is to always be expected, seeding being nothing more than a formality is far from a new concept. Still, there were very few things that you can get the vast majority of society to agree upon in the year 2019, and the love of a true underdog was one of them. Unfortunately, with a mesmerizing meltdown for the ages, the 62-win Tampa Bay Lightning took that love and stomped all over it, as there is no longer such thing as a sure thing to root against during the Stanley Cup Playoffs. As fans of unforeseen failures, we've officially peaked in watching the Columbus Blue Jackets go all-in to win their first ever playoffs series by way of an uncompetitive dusting of a team whose talents will undoubtedly make for multiple hilariously uncomfortable appearances at the NHL awards. In terms of shock value, it is now eternally depreciating. Every other matchup in which the favorite falls short for the foreseeable future will be met with a mere shoulder shrug, as we've been desensitized to dumbfounding outcomes by the All-World juggernaut that took not one single step in a middle ground in going from Valedictorian to dropout in six days time. If there is a saving grace to a series that was really only intriguing in the way that a billionaire going broke is intriguing then it's that an organization managing their assets how a drunk college kid might manage his bank account actually worked out in a way that might result in franchises being less risk adverse going forward. The Columbus Blue Jackets gave a middle finger to the future on behalf of the present, and not only narrowly avoided suffering an embarrassing end to their own season but basically pulled down the pants of the Presidents' Trophy winners and sent them into the summer with the most public of spankings. At least we can appreciate the boldness it takes to even attempt that, because we certainly can't continue to appreciate even the most astronomical of NHL postseason odds after they were overcome with such ease. Evander Kane Lost His Fight With Ryan Reaves, But Won The War of Words by Unanimous Decision4/16/2019
--------- Oh. My. God. My jaw just about hit the floor right around halfway through that transcription, and it was still left looking down at how low Evander Kane went in ripping Ryan Reaves' entire on-ice existence limb from limb. That interview, in its totality, is far and away the most disrespectful you'll ever see one NHLer be towards another publicly. Of course, that's mostly due to professional hockey players biting their own tongue so often you'd think it satisfied some sort of sexual fetish. Still, the fact remains that the oft-enigmatic San Jose forward damn near made up for decades of dumbed-down diplomacy in going below and beyond to emasculate the impact of Las Vegas' resident goon. And ya know what, seeing as he already faced both the literal and figurative music by being played off to 'Baby Shark' following his decision to fight up a weight class and down a skill level, Evander Kane should say whatever he damn well pleases...
Ryan Reaves' primary role is to intimidate, and the player he invested his little amount of playing time in targeting certainly doesn't sound as though he was too phased by the experience. Evander Kane losing both the fight and the game is a moot point in the discussion of how much his opponent actually contributes to winning. Him feeling comfortable enough to call it exactly how he sees it is in the aftermath of answering the bell points directly to the irrelevance of the antiquated, WWE-esque role he just verbally ran over thrice while cutting a Game 4 promo that would make 'The Rock' proud. I say the following as someone who doesn't even particularly like Evander Kane. If you want to drop the mitts and start swinging with an exponentially more talented player just to prove your place then you better make sure you connect well enough for the message to get through his admittedly thick skull. Either that, or he has every right to give a middle finger to personality-less political correctness by not showing you an ounce of respect as the type of player whose best skill is supposed to be in pounding it out of opponents.
I hesitate to give too much praise to Mitch Marner, as Mike Babcock has killed careers for less than belonging to players who are unwilling to go eye-to-eye with high-speed vulcanized rubber when it matters most. Point being, the fact that he was put on the ice in the waning seconds of a pivotal Game 3 in the first place is evidence, in and of itself, that we shouldn't be shocked by his willingness to do whatever it takes to win in a fairly unfamiliar end of the ice. That being said, convincing your coach that you're selfless enough to literally put your baby face in front of a slap shot is a hell of a lot easier than actively throwing yourself in front of some live grenades, so credit goes to a young, offensive dynamo like Mitch Marner for gambling the authenticity of his smile in potting a huge victory for the Toronto Maple Leafs. The reaction from his teammates speaks to how much it was appreciated, even if it wasn't entirely unexpected of someone who's apparently not nearly as self-interested as you'd be led to believe by the regularity which his upcoming contractual demands are discussed.
As much as teenagers can be young and dumb with full ass plums, I'm not sure Andrei Svechnikov's decision to lure the gloves off a grizzled grown man who still plays the game like he's in desperate need of a cocaine fix can be classified as nothing more than a "rookie mistake". There are first year players who've been benched for putting blind, cross-ice passes onto a platter for opposing players that would resent the idea that their birth year leaves them liable to poke an absolute bear of a physical freak. Therefore, it feels like there was something more to that fight than youthful ignorance.
Now, far be it for me to assume that "something" is some sort of regional blood-feud that dates back generations. However, if the threat strongly implied through the use of a universally understood horror movie reference is any indication then said indication provides better reasoning for a super-skilled 19-year old to go blow-for-blow with Alexander Ovechkin than any other I can think of. Seems pretty far fetched for Russian mob ties to rope two professional athletes into an unfair fight on American ice, but the illogical obligations of gang-like affiliations make for a more logical motive than the inherent idiocy of adolescence alone. I'm certainly not suggesting that polarizing opinions on Putin were ultimately responsible for an unnecessary fight that resulted in an unfortunate knockout whose ramifications could theoretically be felt throughout the rest of a suddenly competitive series. Just saying I'd understand that more than I understand a boy being frustrated enough to believe it behooved him to man (a whole hell of a lot of levels) up in actively and inexplicably escalating an oddly timed confrontation between fellow countrymen. The Lightning Losing Isn't Nearly as Concerning as the Soreness With Which They Are Doing So4/13/2019
Ironically, my sentiments mirrored those of Victor Hedman until Victor Hedman echoed those sentiments in the direction of the opposing bench of players who was in the process of orchestrating a near clinical destruction of his own bench's aura of invincibility. As a fan, I am supposed to sink into my own couch while lazily drawing convenient comparisons to series' past between two teams that are, when you take into consideration the amount of moves the Blue Jackets have made over the last 12 months, entirely different. The reigning Norris Trophy winner whose most notable contribution to the series thus far was facilitating his team's untimely collapse in the postseason opener by putting forth a preseason-opening effort, on the other hand, is not...
Point being, there was plenty of reason to believe that the Tampa Bay Lightning, with their embarrassment of riches from a talent perspective, could "buy" their way out of a surprising two game hole. I say was because that reasoning took a sizable hit when one of their most prominent and underperforming players chose to openly base all of his optimism on the efforts of a Stanley Cup Championship winning team that he, need I remind you, proceeded to lose to later in last year's playoffs. I say was because the Head Coach of the team in question referred to the first gut punch his team has taken all year as a "five alarm fire" in an overreactive way that reminds you that the smoothest of regular seasons has left him entirely unfamiliar with alarm fires one through four...
I say was because last we saw the league's leading scorer he was more concerned with selfishly going out of his way to try to damage the brain of the defenseless opponent he chopped down in a fit of frustration than trying to carry his success into the time of year that actually matters...
Honestly, I don't know what's more dispiriting for Tampa Bay, the fact that their most prolific game-breaker did something that was sure to get him suspended from a pivotal Game 3 despite having run-in's with Player Safety in previous postseasons or that it might not even matter with how he's played thus far. The truth is, Nikita Kucherov acted out like a spoiled brat who thinks winning is a given despite having entered the time of the year where not even an inch is given. The even harsher truth is, if Victor Hedman's lousy and off-target trash talk is any indication, that sounds like it may be a prevailing thought process in a locker room that's in too deep to keep playing like they deserve to win as opposed to playing like they are desperate to win. The harshest truth is that the comparison of a 2-0 series deficit to a five alarm fire sounds like somewhat of a self-fulfilling prophecy, as no one thought their chances of coming back were that close to ashes before the member of their organization who is supposed to be the most grounded said so. Each round of the NHL postseason is an up-and-down grind, so at the end of the day it's not exactly 'The End of Days'...but someone might want to notify Jon Cooper of that. And someone might want to let Victor Hedman know that history doesn't just magically repeat itself because it's happened do so enough times since the advent of written word to popularize that saying. And someone might want to put a drop of vodka under Nikita Kuchero's tongue and have him suck on a binky in the owner's suite until he sleeps off his irritable entitlement during the game he made sure not to be a part of. Again, the Tampa Bay Lightning may very well show some spine and rebound from this, as they have the top-end skill, depth, and experience to do so. However, as of last night they were all on very different pages and not one of those pages read like it was destined to lead into a more uplifting chapter. That's far more of a cause for concern than one of best regular season teams of all-time sputtering off to a slow start in the playoffs.
My head is well aware that the defenders with which a 47 year old Jaromir Jagr seamlessly split through like a fat-barreled ginsu knife are inferior in talent, and that his speed wouldn't look to match his immortal skill anywhere near as well if it were on the ice alongside NHL players. My heart, on the other hand, doesn't really give a shit that his ability to twerk overly optimistic opponents a town over has aged out of the NHL and just wants to see him back playing in a place where the horses in his back can be appreciated on a bi-weekly basis. I get that the style with which Father Time has forced him to play doesn't quite fit the direction in which the league is trending. Still, can't we just Grandfather back in someone who would be old enough to be a Grandfather if he wasn't still sleeping with women who he could have theoretically Grandfathered had he not eternally eloped in marrying himself to the game? Team owner or not, it just feels wrong to have Jags overseas dangling through dummies with a reach that must make them feel as helpless as getting posted up by Giannis Antetokounmpo. Especially when he should be solidifying his status as a national treasure somewhere in the states while approaching the half-century mark of 50 years young.
As the saying goes, to the victory goes the spoils, so typically I'd say it's not my place to rain on the parade of the Columbus Blue Jackets following their unbelievably impressive and unlikely come-from-behind road win over the best team in the NHL. That being said, given my admittedly biased belief that John Tortorella is an insufferable blowhard, I'm bringing the shit storm if absolutely anyone is hailing him as the guest of honor at said parade. That's not necessarily a gripe with the content of his motivational monologue, though I hardly found it to be an award-winning incitement of determination that couldn't be heard bouncing off the walls of almost every other locker room in the league, but rather the timing and impact of it. This was a pregame speech, which means Columbus proceeded to get pushed around the ice as effortlessly as a curling stone almost immediately after their coach caused their ears to ring with a expletive-laced rant whose most intriguing quality was its censorship. The first period ended 3-0, and it could have been much worse if not for some heroics from a goaltender that has no intention of continuing to listen to Torts beyond this postseason. Therefore, assuming we're not crediting self-starting professional athletes for calming their nerves and scoring a bunch of timely goals over two hours later, or Victor Hedman for moving around the ice about as aimlessly as a parking cone with a rabid rat trapped underneath, I'd say it's much more likely the competitive spirit to put together a ferocious comeback was conjured up by blocking out the noise of that fiery failure of an pep talk. That is, if we absolutely must assign it some convenient correlation to the outcome in retrospect.
Joe Pavelski Deflected in a Goal With His Face in a Way That Only He Could Make Look So Intentional4/11/2019
To call that deflection intentional is probably extremely, extremely generous. After all, as the saying goes, every hockey player's got a plan until they get pucked in the face. That said, with that particular hockey player having long been blessed with the innate ability to damn near defy physics and geometry by tipping high-speed projectiles with perfect placement, I sort of feel as though even his face instinctually knew how to absorb vulcanized rubber in a way that would propel it towards the back of the net. Of course, it's more plausible that he was simply lucky in that his initial reaction to having his jaw get jacked up just so happened to be turning his head in a direction that allowed for the redirection to put the Sharks up early. However, in the same way that fortune favors the bold, benefit of the doubt favors the guy that's made quite the career out of using just about anything and everything at his disposal to add a marked margin for error to any shot sent within the general vicinity of the net. Therefore, if only as a sympathetic gesture to someone who definitely woke up feeling like he got sucker-punched with a frying pan the night prior, I'm going to say that Joe Pavelski had some spur-of-the-moment motive to make sure his impending dental appointment wasn't in vain. Especially during the playoffs. ::insert unoriginal and unnecessary jab at every other professional sport for being played predominantly by unworthy sissy boys::
They did it. They fucking did it...with "it" of course meaning absolutely nothing other than throwing their chips on the table, holding their breath, and lucking into the type of earnings that leave you liable to run laps around the casino like a goddamn lunatic. Taylor Hall let it ride on the black magic of whatever horseshoe he's got stuck up his ass...
Ray Shero flashed a grin that was suspiciously shit-eating in retrospect...
And every Devils' fan that thought their C- in Statistics could help them prognosticate the one-off probabilities of ping pong balls that have proven to be unpredictable, time and time again, now has to apologize for bitching and moaning about professional athletes playing with pride and...well...professionalism when they had nothing else to play for...
As for what this means for the franchise going forward. In the best way possible, It's impossible to measure what the impact of another young game-breaker whose ceiling is the sky will be. However, from their GM, to their Head Coach, to the player that serves as their Hart beat, just about every voice that currently carries weight in the Devils' organization was a day removed from speaking to an immediate need for more talent. Be it in the form of a freakishly fast and skilled American center or a big-bodied Finnish winger that lacks flaws, that talent has essentially already been acquired as early as April. The fact that is was acquired at a bargain basement rate that basically leaves the organization at an 8-way stop in terms of what avenue they want to explore in investing their embarrassment of assets is just another bonus.
My first instinct was to attempt to reach through the TV screen, give Jack Hughes' flowing hair a flip, and swaddle his baby face in a Devils' blankie. After all, dynamic depth down the middle is the type of foundation that can make up for other structural flaws in this era of the NHL. That said, whether they go with him or Kaapo Kakko is a debate for another day...if not every other rivalry-intensifying day between now and June 21st. The important thing is that that decision is now up to an organization that desperately needed to give their star player what he made it clear he wanted in another reason or three to stay in New Jersey for the foreseeable future. Nothing is done until the ink dries, but - after winning yet another draft lottery - Ray Shero would have to conduct an apocalyptic train wreck of an offseason for it to end with Taylor Hall feeling anything other than optimistic about the direction of his team. That aspect shouldn't be lost in all this well-deserved Hughes' hype of Patrick Kane comparisons, for (more likely than not) his rookie is a huge one in determining the future of a franchise that would have every right to feel a bit too cocky at the craps table right about now.
Look, I get it. No one not named Slava Voynov ever wants to see someone who ruthlessly beat his wife back on NHL ice. Only being guaranteed of his disgraced absence for one more year during a period of heightened sensitivity and social awareness towards women makes more than most, including myself, feel uneasy. If the league's zero tolerance policy for such egregious acts against members of a demographic with which they are currently trying to extend their reach was exactly that then we wouldn't have to worry about spending the next season prepping ourselves for the moral dilemma of consuming a product potentially tainted by the participation of a loathsome piece of human garbage. For that reason, this suspension isn't the best outcome. That being said, while piling on the NHL for being run like complete crap is one of my favorite hobbies, this suspension isn't nearly as bad as it could be...which makes it pretty damn good given how low the NHL has set the bar. For better or worse, we live in a land of second chances and players' associations, so it was almost inevitable that the fate of Slava Voynov's future was going to eventually be put in the ethically compromised hands of those that will have every opportunity to deny him gainful employment in the NHL for eternity. When all said and done that exchange in responsibility will have taken five full years, a period of time that is entirely unprecedented amongst other professional sports' leagues that have dealt with similarly vile circumstances, to come to fruition. Therefore, any criticism I might feel inclined to direct towards a league that's relatively new to this moral authority business would really just be a projection of my future lack of faith in the owners and GM's operating in it. If the team builders do something as simple as view a 30-year old defenseman who has been out of the league for half a decade after taking domestic violence to a whole new level as not worth the dumping of every ounce of their organizational integrity into the sewer then his reinstatement will never even an issue. Truth be told, it's the absolute least they could do to show they care about women after the NHL forced the public relations' disaster of a rare, right handed puck-mover to go play in and around Siberia during the entire prime of his once promising career.
To be quite honest, I don't think the timing of this actually matters. It's possible, if not very likely, that this extension has long been a foregone conclusion that made the most sense to be signed and/or announced come the end of what was a rough season for all parties involved. After all, despite being about as active as a stoner with early on-set senioritis last summer, Ray Shero's tenure as General Manager of the New Jersey Devils has largely been a successful one. That might be tough to see in the ugly results of his 4th season as such, but it's certainly not hard to see in the AHL/AARP roster of the team he originally took over. There's still a lot of work to be done, but the trades he has lost have been few and far between, as well as nowhere near as impactful as the countless trades he's overwhelmingly won. His leash almost certainly grew a bit tighter since September, but I hardly think that cutting ties anytime soon was something that was ever truly discussed. That being said, you don't become a billionaire by blindly investing in things you're given no reason to believe in, so it stands to reason that Josh Harris and David Blitzer had some assurances made that the next few months will be profitable ones before starting them off by prolonging their financial commitment to the builder of their team. Whether that speaks to Ray Shero's confidence in keeping his Hart in the right place by locking up Taylor Hall or his general willingness to collect on a plethora of assets/take some financial risks, we shall soon see. Regardless, I couldn't be more certain that this offseason, unlike last, won't leave me in need of a cold shower...until the person spearheading it pretty bluntly spoke of his lack of satisfaction lately.
|
Categories
All
Archives
January 2020
|