Breaking Down a Miracle on Ice Movie: No Interviews but Whining out the Wazoo

We’re back in Minnesota and driving past a billboard that announces the North Stars will be facing off against our beloved USA Olympic squad on September 29^th. I can hardly wait, so I hope the movie speeds things along for us.

As they drive along in their station wagon, Herb tells Patty why he can’t make it to some social dinner because he has to run another practice before the next game, which apparently will take up one whole evening, and he has to check the equipment, which he claims will also take up an entire evening. Flipping through Patty’s planner, Herb asks if they can re-arrange the dinner for next Tuesday instead. Presumably, next week Herb will schedule a tooth removal appointment to get out of whatever event Patty is organizing, and the team will wonder why Herb can’t schedule a practice in the morning like a normal coach so they can have a night life.

Patty looks upset, and perhaps for once picking up on a human emotion in this film, Herb comments that it’s good to be home. Unappeased, Patty remarks that she hadn’t noticed he was home. This is the mandatory moaning about marriage scene, obviously. Patty, dear, I’ve got one question for you:

Trying again to stop an argument before it can start, Herb explains, “I didn’t figure it would take that much time. Would you believe I thought I would be with you more?”

“Sure,” Patty responds. “At least I believe you believed it, but I’m a realist, Herb. That’s probably why our marriage lasted.” Ouch. Herb needs to do a better job with the damage control if he doesn’t want to spend the next two weeks of evenings that he isn’t coaching practice and checking equipment sleeping on the sofa, since Patty is emitting almost all the signs of an angry woman right now.

Herb’s whole face crumbles like a condemned building, and it’s kind of sad, as he presses, “Is it that bad?”

Finally relenting, Patty shakes her head and answers, as she leans forward to cradle his neck, “No. Even if it was, it’d still be worth it.”

Deciding to turn the scene into a total mush-fest, Herb states, “Pat, there is one problem. I’m beginning to think we have a real chance of winning.” Given how much of a prophet of Olympic doom Herb has been to everyone about the odds of his team not being utterly outclassed in Lake Placid, you’ll have to forgive me when I say:

Seriously, until Herb ceases his habit of complaining to those nearest and dearest to him about everything pertaining to coaching this destined-for-failure Olympic team, I’m not going to believe that he thinks his team has a snowball’s chance in Hades of winning an Olympic medal.

Patty, fortunately for Herb, is more encouraging than I am, so she replies, “It wouldn’t surprise me.” Then Herb and Patty exchange a nice kiss on the lips, and it would probably be much cuter if Karl Malden had any good looks whatsoever.

Before things heat up too much between Patty and Herb, the scene transitions to the locker room, where the Olympic team is preparing for the game against the North Stars. Dave Christian is being interviewed by a reporter who is prodding about whether he feels any extra pressure because his dad and uncle were on the 1960 squad that won gold in Squaw Valley. Why is he asking this?

Humoring (or perhaps trolling) the reporter, Dave offers the following quote with maximum irony: “Okay. It has been my dream since I was a little boy to play on the Olympic team, ever since I was on bob-skates on the local pond. This is a final chapter in a long quest, and I know that with hard work, competitive edge, and good old American spirit, we can out-do even the gold-medal team of ’60.” Well, honestly, the triumph of hard work, competitive edge, and good old American spirit might be the whole theme of this movie, so it’s a relief that it doesn’t take itself too seriously with its joke of a script and terrible acting, though, maybe if it had taken itself a bit more seriously, the acting and scriptwriting would be better. That’s a debate for the comment section, though, so have at it there.

Realizing that he’s being a sarcastic jerk to someone who can ruin him in print, Dave claps the reporter on the arm and apologizes, “Oh, I’m sorry. Why don’t you try one of the other guys?” Jeez, Dave, way to throw your teammates under the media van. I’m sure they’ll love having a microphone shoved under their mouth as much as you did.

Before the reporter can badger some other unlucky player, Herb barges into the locker room ready to rip into anyone he can sink his teeth into, and I’ve found the perfect theme song the team should play every time he enters:

True to form, Herb snaps, “I have strict rules. No reporters in the locker room without my permission.” Looking at Coach Patrick as if Patrick is somehow to blame for the reporter breaking the rules, he adds, “I thought I made that clear.”

Striding toward the door with no shortage of swagger, the reporter remarks that he’s got what he wanted. That will probably just spill kerosene on top of Herb’s bonfire.

Determined to make things go from bad to worse, the reporter shoves his microphone under Herb’s nose and points out that he could use a quote from the coach to go with his story. Herb just glares at the reporter as if he wants to do this to the guy before the story can be published:

Deciding that getting a concussion isn’t worth it, the reporter takes his leave, and, as Coach Patrick shuts the door, Herb demands, “What the hell was he doing here?”

Being the total wimp he is, Coach Patrick pleas, “I can’t be everywhere at once. Look at it this way, Herb. The only place guys like that don’t bug you is in Russia.” Yes, in Soviet Russia, you bug reporter. Ha ha. In all seriousness, though, Patrick, just tell Herb that if he has a rule he needs to be the one to enforce it if he wants any respect from his players or the media. Don’t be such a carpet to walk all over, Patrick. It’s driving me bananas.

Here, Coach Patrick makes the mistake of laughing at his own (not particularly funny) joke in a desperate bid to reduce the tension that ultimately backfires when Herb glares daggers at him before barking at the locker room, “Get this, and get it straight. This is a team. There are no stars, no special people, and the media hype isn’t going to create one, so they’ll be no interviews. I repeat: no interviews! Next one will cost you a fine or worse.”

Now, at first hearing, this may sound like a tyrannical measure, but I’m willing to give Herb the benefit of the doubt here, since, although hockey is a sport that requires players to wear suits to meet with the media after the game, most of the interviewees have the grace and eloquence of a rhino smashing through a ballet. This is not necessarily their fault, because here’s the thing I want everybody to understand about hockey: this is a sport that mostly dudes (and also ladies, but the ladies cannot play professionally or with contact, sadly) from colder places such as Canada, Russia, Sweden, Finland, the icebox parts of the USA, and Hoth get very obsessed with. So obsessed, in fact, that they often leave home at a relatively young age and enter a kind of icehouse world of hugging and intense warrior bonds. Basically, they spend eight months a year away from their families, bonding with other dudes, so they’re about as conversationally adept as Forrest Gump when he informs President Kennedy that he has to visit the facilities:

This heavy schedule leaves them no time to develop social skills, normal relationships with human beings who aren’t their teammates, and in extreme cases like Sidney Crosby, personalities. It also leaves them with no time to develop an adult sense of style. They generally seem to keep dressing exactly the way they did when they were fourteen, and if you look around your average middle school or high school, you will get a sense of why that is a bad idea. If I got to enact a rule in hockey tomorrow – okay, I’d make every single head contact illegal for real-but if I got to make a second one, it would involve gel rationing. Basically, everything you did after you turned fourteen, these guys missed because they had a game, and that’s why even articulate, relatively mature hockey players like Zach Parise show up to interviews during the Stanley Cup Finals carrying a baby cup instead of a Dasani or a Gatorade bottle stolen off the bench:

That meme just sums up every possible reason why Herb would not want his players doing interviews, because it just ends in awkwardness and embarrassment for everyone involved.

Bah doesn’t see the benevolence inherent in the dictatorship, so he mutters to Pav, “Hasn’t he ever heard of freedom of the press?” Hmm…my geek may be showing here, but isn’t freedom of the press only about a person’s right to write and publish whatever they want so long as it isn’t libel, and not about everybody’s ability to be interviewed whenever they choose? If you want to insist on your right to give an interview, I’d argue more from the grounds of free speech than freedom of the press, but that’s just me. It doesn’t really matter, since both are covered in the Bill of Rights, which most hockey players from the USA probably haven’t read, bless their souls.

Herb marches over to Bah and observes with a quiet menace, “I heard that, Harrington.” Maybe next time Bah should wait until Herb leaves the locker room to provide a whispered commentary. To nobody’s surprise, Herb then proceeds to flip out just as Bruce Boudreau did when he was coaching the Capitals and dropped about twenty f-bombs in the course of five seconds:

Stalking around the locker room like a prowling carnivore, Herb snarls, “Maybe you guys have forgotten, tonight we play the NHL, and they’re not impressed with your 8-2 record in Europe. If this was Russia, all you guys would be shipped to the Trans-Siberian All-Stars.” Ah, well, at least they made the All-Stars even if it is in Siberia #US Olympic Team Positives.

Jabbing a finger at Jimmy, Herb decides to make things extra personal, ordering, “Craig, get your act together. If you’re going to play hockey, play hockey. Forget the personal stuff. You can’t serve two masters.” So, hockey should be God, Herb? Got it. I’m waiting for the impending lightning bolt strike.

Tapping Rizzo’s pad, Herb goes off on another tirade, saying that if Rizzo wants to spend the rest of his life playing in the minors, he should keep playing as he is.

Then, Herb exits the locker room, leaving everyone feeling like the victims of this prank:

Reacting much like the last guy in that video, Rizzo storms into the hallway after Herb, shouting, “Hey, Herb!”

As he pivots to confront Rizzo, Herb asks, “Why aren’t you on the ice? Figure you don’t need it?” Maybe because you just finished speaking twenty seconds ago, Herb, and if Rizzo’s supposed to be on the ice, why aren’t you behind the bench? This is yet another piece of dialogue that makes no sense when thought about for more than two seconds, because there are limits in the in the official NHL rule book regulating how long players can spend on the ice warming up before a game.

Rizzo, replies, “How much practice I gotta do, that’s your decision, but how you tell me is something else.” Thank God someone on this team is actually trying to set limits with Herb. Patrick, please take notes on how this works, so you don’t get run over at least once every scene in which you make an appearance.

Herb, in his role as Master of the Cliché, retorts, “If you can’t take the heat, stay out of the kitchen.”

Rizzo counters, “Regular heat’s okay, Herb, but you’re on my back and Craig’s, too. We’re scapegoats.”

“So?” Herb answers with increasing mania in every sentence. “You guys are sitting around dreaming about the pros. Well, in a few hours, you’re going to get a chance to play them. You’re going to get a chance to show your stuff, and you’re all going to do lousy unless you play together as a team. They’re going to come out hitting, and you guys aren’t ready for them.”

Calming down a fraction, Herb continues, “Look, someone’s got to take the heat. I told you before, if I kept you it would be for the good of the team. Now you’ve got broad shoulders. I want to make a deal with you. If I use your first name, the heat is on you. If I use your second name, you’re the scapegoat. I’m using you to get to the whole team.”

The dialogue is of dubious quality as always, but I enjoy the second part of Herb’s comment, anyway, because I know that Herb had an arrangement with Rizzo and OC that if he used their surnames, he was using them to make a point to the team, and if he employed their first names, he was actually addressing them. It’s a neat concept that I’m glad the movie touches on even if the execution is as always somewhat lacking in the subtlety department.

His face contorting into something that might be an attempt at a wink (but looks more like a grimace) Herb instructs Rizzo to pass that message along to Craig, too. I guess Herb’s already breaking his own rules about when to use the last names. As Willy Wonka would phrase it, you lose, Herb.

When Herb walks away, Rizzo calls after him, “Hey, Herb. Which one is supposed to tell him, Mike or Rizzie? And who do you want me to tell it to, Craig or Jimmy?”

Herb gives a slight smile and walks away, which I assume means that the movie is establishing this as a lame little continuing joke. Please prove me wrong, movie.

Dramatic music swells in the background, and all I can think is that when whining becomes an Olympic sport, this team will definitely win gold. Until next time without the complaining of the participants of the movie assaulting your eardrums at every moment, I’ll leave you to ponder:

30 Favorites from 30 Different Teams: Tuukka Rask (Boston Bruins)

NHL Franchise: The Boston Bruins

The Boston Bruin logo, which mysteriously resembles a wagon wheel more than a bear. Perhaps the Boston Barrowers would be a more accurate name.

Favorite Player: Tuukka Rask

Tuukka is prepared to make an amazing save. Are you ready for it?

There’s Tuukka about to make a great save, which is something he did a lot of this season. He made important saves on even the most interesting shootout attempts, a prize which clearly goes to Kaspars Daugavins, as shown in the footage below:

He was always ready to deny Steven Stamkos a goal on a slick backhand:

His teammates never doubted his ability to make a timely save like the one featured below:

It’s that knack for making crucial saves to keep his team alive that allowed him to steal games for his team such as the one in San Jose on October 24^th:

Although Tuukka might take some heat for not being able to lead the Bruins past Price and the Montreal Canadiens, it’s only fair to note that Tuuka did not have a poor playoffs. He made some wonderful saves like this breathtaking stick one in the series against the Canadiens:

In addition to being strong in the series against Montreal, Tuukka performed admirably in the first round against the Detroit Red Wings, as is illustrated in this collection of his best saves from the April 21 game:

Since, all in all, Tuukka made too many spectacular saves for me to be able to point you to each one, I’ll just direct you to a highlight reel (that’s in HD because some people are high-tech snobs) of some of his best saves of the season:

Even though he didn’t win the Stanley Cup this year (although his one from 2011 still makes him only the second Finnish goaltender in history to have his name inscribed on this trophy), he did return from Sochi with a bronze medal after shutting out the Americans in his final game of the tournament:

Tuukka isn’t impressed with his bronze medal, because he keeps thinking it could be a different color if he hadn’t been sick and unable to participate in the match against Sweden during the first part of the medal round.

If you’re going to try to poke holes in Tuukka’s goalie padding for not being able to lead his team to the Stanley Cup Finals for the second year in a row, please remember that the fact that Tuukka can be upset that he didn’t come back from Sochi with a silver or gold souvenir instead of a bronze one probably means:

Like a prophet, Tuukka speaks the truth. You mad? Stay mad until next season.

 

30 Favorites from 30 Different Teams: Cam Fowler (Anaheim Ducks)

NHL Franchise: Anaheim Ducks

The duck print and wing logo of the Anaheim Ducks, since Donald didn’t inspire enough terror in the hearts of hockey foes throughout the NHL…Dun, Dun, the Wild Wing approaches..

Favorite Player: Cam Fowler

Cam and an adoring, orange home arena celebrate a goal against the Nashville Predators. Number four wants to give free hugs to everyone, obviously. Get your number and stand in line.

There he is, looking as cute as a button in his home jersey, but that’s far too superficial to be the only motive why I chose him, so let’s examine some other reasons why.

On the powerplay, he can score goals, a useful and necessary talent in a defenseman manning the point, even recording  powerplay goals against teams like the St. Louis Blues, which not every player can claim:

When he skates, he’s pure poetry in motion:

After he gets those legs in gear, he makes the wind seem slow by comparison, so it’s no wonder he could win the Ducks’ Fastest Skater Event at their Skills Showdown:

Back when he was a rookie, he also was lucky enough to live with Scott Niedermayer (possibly my all-time favorite Devil), who taught him not to subsist solely on a diet of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, chocolate milk, and cookie dough ice cream:

From this chapter of Cam’s life, there is also video documentation of him and Scott Niedermayer passing a puck to one another, which is good wish-fulfillment for those hockey fans who dream of seeing Scott Niedermayer play again:

Now that Cam has attained the ripe old age of twenty-two and has moved into his own place (unlike Sidney Crosby who still basically lives with Mario Lemieux like an adopted son although he pretends to have gotten his own mansion), he’s expected to be a more mature veteran anchoring Anaheim’s youthful blueline, but that doesn’t stop him from being a dope about things like line changes:

In case you’re wondering, the defenseman next to Cam who was laughing his lungs out was rookie Hampus Lindholm. That’s right. Even the rookie thought his mistake was hilarious, but Hampus should be careful about at who’s expense his chuckles come, since Cam is an American superhero:

In all seriousness, though, Cam Fowler, a player whom I always had a soft spot for because he seems to have a calm, genuinely nice personality to match his smooth skating and perfect passing, had a breakout season this year. He received attention for both his offensive and defensive play. He worked his way onto the United States Olympic team, where he played top four minutes. He was a major reason why the Ducks finished as Pacific Division Champions.

At twenty-two, he still has many wonderful experiences to look forward to on and off the ice, and, as he continues to develop, he should contribute more and more to his team. Granted, he is one of the least physical players in the league, so much so that I know he is feeling feisty when he brushes elbows with an opposing player, but he is not hesitant about blocking shots, and his play along the boards has improved noticeably. His positioning and stickwork compensate defensively for much of his lack of physicality.

In the final analysis, he also has two of the skills-smooth, swift skating and excellent puck movement—that are most valuable to modern defensemen. Sometimes in our haste to criticize his shooting ability or his physicality, we forget how incredible his skating is, how amazing his vision of the ice is, and how subtly powerful an offensive catalyst he can be to his team. He is not without his flaws, but there aren’t that many twenty-two-year-old defenseman in the NHL who play team-leading minutes in all situations as well as Cam Fowler does. Of course, not being divine, he does stuff wrong, but it shouldn’t detract from all that he does right, especially when the good far outweighs the bad. He deserves to be respected for that, so I thank him for making hockey fun to watch with his considerable talents and for being a classy individual kids would be fine emulating, which isn’t all that common among professional athletes.

 

 

Breaking Down a Miracle on Ice Movie: A Musical and Pictorial Odyssey through Europe

Now that Herb’s rattled a can under important people’s noses to fundraise pennies for his boys, the scene shifts to an airport. Inside one of the planes, Coach Patrick is shouting at the team to settle down because he wants to take a headcount, just as if this were an elementary school field trip.

After boarding the plane and flirting with a stewardess, OC (whose arrival proves that Coach Patrick should have waited until the final boarding call to begin his headcount) calls out to Coach Patrick that there’s a reporter outside wanting to interview Jimmy.

Leaning over Rizzo’s seat, Coach Patrick asks if Mike’s heard from Jimmy and Rizzo replies that he hasn’t, but he supposes that Jimmy’s going to show. This is a really weird conversation, to be honest. Shouldn’t Coach Patrick, who presumably booked the plane tickets, have the best idea of who is coming on the trip? Why would you buy planes tickets without being certain of how many people are going, and how do you, if you are in a position of authority on a journey, board a plane without a complete tally of how many members are in your group? Also, why even attempt a headcount if you aren’t sure how many heads you are supposed to be counting? Is it just to soothe pre-flight nerves or something? At this rate, I wouldn’t be surprised if this travel scenario ended as well as wrong way one during the cross-country trip in Dumb and Dumber did:

Craning his head to address OC, Coach Patrick instructs OC to just tell the reporter that Herb doesn’t allow interviews. This is a good piece of characterization since Herb’s hostile attitude toward interaction with the media was very reminiscent of Tortorella:

Showing how different plane security was back then, OC just gets off the plane to pass this message along to the reporter, whereas now he wouldn’t be allowed to just turn around and get off the plane, and the reporter wouldn’t have been allowed near the runway without a boarding pass.

A moment later, Jim bounds onto the plane and is greeted with a lot of playful swats from his teammates because:

As he takes his seat, Jim comments, “You guys aren’t going to the hotspots of Europe without me.” Then there is a lot of laughter and corny (and rather inaudible) joking about this statement. After that, while dramatic music swells in the background, the plane takes off, and the team has officially embarked on their European adventure.

The next scene takes place in Amsterdam (which is in the Netherlands for all of those who failed Geography 101), as the boys exit a hotel and board a bus. Still chomping on his ever-present wad of gum, OC saunters up to Pav and announces, “Hey, I’ll do you a favor, I’ll sit with you even though you are from Minneapolis.” I hope Pav responds like that soldier in the Monty Python French Taunter scene, which in my opinion is one of the pinnacles of British comedy:

Pav’s response is almost as epic. He scoots over to steal the seat OC was about to slip into, and when OC appears baffled by this slight, the guy sitting behind Pav (whom I believe is Bah, but can’t be sure since half the characters in this film all look the same and should be forced to wear their numbers and uniforms all the time so they can be distinguished from one another even if that is the dystopian plot of a thousand futuristic novels) taps Pav on the shoulder and informs OC, “What the troubadour is trying to say is he’s not from Minneapolis.”

Spreading his hands, OC says, “Okay, I’m sorry, all right?” After a moment’s hesitation, Pav relents and moves over so OC can join him. Lounging in his chair, OC asks Pav, “So, where’d you say you guys were from—the Iron Range? It’s the same thing as Minneapolis, isn’t it?” Yes, OC, a place with the term Range in it is obviously near the Twin Cities. At this point, I can just see OC thinking this on the bus ride through Europe:

“Sure,” Pav scoffs, not tolerating OC’s Boston ignorance and arrogance, “like South Boston is the same thing as Beacon Hill. You guys are really dumb about the rest of the country, you know that? We’re just as poor as you or Craig, so why don’t you just lay off the upside-down snobbery, huh?” Rock on, Pav. You tell him.

OC exchanges a glance with Rizzo, who is sitting across the aisle from him, and then Coach Patrick climbs into the bus, calling, “Okay, it’s going to be about ten hours before we get there.” When the bus fills with groans, he raises his voice even further: “Listen up, listen up, everybody is responsible for their own equipment just like here. Okay?”

There is a chorus of acknowledgement, and then Rizzo wants to know, “Hey, Patty, do we have to keep on our suit coats and ties or what?”

Coach Patrick tells the guys to get comfortable, and as everybody loosens their ties, he demands cheerfully, “Where’s my seat?”

Some banter ensues, and then OC stands up, telling Coach Patrick that he can take his seat if he doesn’t mind sitting in the kiddie section. Then Rizzo rises and takes OC’s seat, saying, “Take mine, Patty. I got it warm for you.” It’s like musical chairs or a Chinese fire drill.

As he slides into Rizzo’s empty seat, Coach Patrick opines, “You guys never let up, do you?”

Rizzo looks at Pav and remarks, “I guess we’re all a little homesick, huh?” Pav gives a small smile, and then Herb enters the bus, and the atmosphere drops to sub zero temperatures as the bus drives off.

Plucking away at his guitar, Pav serenades us with “The Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round” since this is a family friendly film, after all, Just kidding. He really offers a rendition of Simon and Garfunkel’s “America.”

As Pav sings that tune, a montage of various moments from the team’s games in Europe flash across the screen, so I recommend that you hum the tune to yourself as I take you on a meme journey of the European games.

Les Auge gets smashed into the boards and is probably thinking:

Pav gets in a scuffle along the boards to show us all the definition of hockey:

Broten (whose last name is spelled correctly on his jersey) scores a goal, and it’s so awesome:

Christian has a goal, too:

Ramsey uses his backside to send an opponent into a somersault:

Then we’re back on a plane for the flight back home for America, as the whirlwind tour of Europe is done. As Ken returns to his seat, a stewardess asks for his autograph, which he gives to her. There’s whistling and college boy teasing, and then when Ken sits down, Jim asks why the married guys get all the attention. I’m sure their wives would also be interested in that answer. Maybe this isn’t such a family friendly film, after all.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ken answers. “She’ll get to you. They’re all big hockey fans in her country. She wants all the autographs.”

Leaning forward from the row behind Ken, Bill chimes in, “It’s about time we got a little respect.”

“Oh yeah?” Ken replies. “Well, according to her, there’s no way we’re going to beat the Russians.”

Rob, who is sitting next to Ken, shakes his head dismissively, and comments in a very smug tone, “Oh, that comes from living too close to the Soviets. It’s called geopolitical absorption.” Now, that may sound confusing, folks, but just remember, Rob’s only using sophisticated words to dress up a basic fact that everyone except evil egomaniacs like Napoleon and Hitler learned in European history, and those who don’t learn in boring class discover in a very painful practice:

“Geopolitical absorption, Robbie?” echoes OC, and this whole conversation is so hilarious, because these two are bantering about Cold War global politics, which is totally true to both their characters. “That’s the poet in you right?”

“Wrong,” Rob sasses back. “Political Science 401. It’s a fancy word that means being scared of the guy who lives next store.”

“Yeah, well, wait until we get to Lake Placid,” scoffs OC. “We’ll see who absorbs who.” This is all starting to sound very Freudian, but really this geopolitical debate was very amusing in an extremely intellectual way like the constitutional peasant scene from Monty Python and the Holy Grail although the script and the acting are obviously inferior by light-years but why quibble over minor details.

There are a lot of grins to go around at this remark, and then Rizzo states as the stewardess starts collecting everyone’s signatures, “What I wouldn’t give to beat them. It sure would make up for a lot.”

As Rizzo gives his autograph to the stewardess, Bill addresses her thus: “Excuse me. I have it on good authority that you want details on our secret plan to beat the Russians.”

“Secret?” repeats the stewardess, following the traditional airline approach of being as rude as possible to the customer. “What is this secret plan? I saw your game last night. You’ll never beat the Soviet Union. Never.”

The secret plan, as devised by Herb, silly stewardess, is to lull the Soviet Union into a false sense of superiority by putting on poor performances like the one in Madison Square Garden before the Olympics, and then just dominating in the medal round.

There’s an awkward silence, and then OC declares, “We’ll see about that.” Then the scene ends by panning out to a shot of the plane soaring through the clouds, and on that note I’ll leave all my lovely readers to fly about their lovely business until the next installment. I hope everyone enjoyed their musical and pictorial trip through Europe. Please take all your belongings out of the overhead compartment before departing the cyberplane.

Number 30: Prospects the Devils Might Draft with Their First Round Pick (And What Can Be Expected of Them)

At the 2014 NHL Entry Draft in Philadelphia, the New Jersey Devils will have the thirtieth overall pick and won’t be permitted to trade up for a better one. Normally, that wouldn’t make me happy, but since the Devils were expected to forfeit their first round selection as part of the sanction for circumventing the cap when signing He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Dark Lord Ilya Kovalchuk, who has since absconded to Russia to bust out his knees floating around in the KHL like an overgrown bat, I have to be grateful.

After all, even if the player chosen turns out to be a complete bust (which hopefully they won’t, because the Devils are a mediocre—to phrase it optimistically—enough franchise at the moment that we don’t need any more inadequate team members), it won’t be a total loss seeing as the team wasn’t supposed to get anything anyway. Therefore, anybody selected that has any positive impact on the organization is a gift, and anyone chosen who has no effect on the franchise is basically a sunken cost as the team wasn’t intended to have this pick anyhow. Of course, obviously, I hope that the Devils maximize this pick by choosing the player who can contribute the most to this floundering franchise. Now, that raises the question of what can reasonably be expected of a player taken thirtieth overall in the NHL draft in general and the 2014 NHL draft in particular.

What is reasonable to expect of a thirtieth overall pick?

A thirtieth overall pick is a part of the first round of the NHL Draft albeit in the very tail end of the first round. On average, as this article explains, a first round draft pick has a sixty-three percent chance of being a career player (competing in at least 200 NHL games), and approximately half of those career players will compete in at least 500 NHL games. However, it should be understood that while every single player selected first overall has made it to the NHL (in the sense of competing in at least one NHL game), not every thirtieth overall player will be so fortunate. Outside the top five picks, an NHL player is by no means guaranteed, and by the time the second round (which the thirtieth overall pick is close to being in all but semantics), a player has about a one quarter chance of being a career NHL player.

A thirtieth overall player is unlikely to become a star or a superstar, so the Devils will be lucky to get a top six forward or a top four defenseman with this pick. With smart drafting and careful development, the odds of the thirtieth overall pick yielding a top six forward or top four defenseman can be increased, but fans need to keep in mind that not every first rounder is going to be the next Wayne Gretzky. Be positive about what the pick can bring to the organization if developed well, but don’t heap unrealistic expectations on the player. It is unfair to anoint a first overall, nonetheless a thirtieth overall selection, as the savior of a franchise. That puts an unhealthy pressure on a player, so don’t engage in that practice, because it makes no one feel good.

Does it depend on the draft?

Yes, how deep a draft is will shape how many first round selections reach the NHL and how much of an impact those players have once they arrive in the big league. In an insanely deep draft of 2003, every first overall pick (including the big failure that is the Huge Speciman, Hugh Jessiman, who was chosen above such stars as Zach Parise and Ryan Getzlaf) played in the NHL even if it was only for a two day stint. By way of contrast, in the notoriously weak draft of 1999, only twelve of the twenty-eight first round picks went on to become career players. Devils fans can be grateful that Travis Zajac was one of the few success stories that emerged from that draft, and the fact that he is one of the greater talents to emerge from that draft is indeed proof of how thin it was on skill, since Zajac should be a third-line center on a team with depth.

How deep is the 2014 NHL Entry Draft?

For the most part, as this article discusses, scouts have described the 2014 NHL Entry Draft as being average in depth and talent, although lacking standout talents. This lack of standout talent means that there is not a consensus first overall pick, and this lack of clearly defined standout talent has lead some scouts to suggest that the best player of the bunch may be selected at eighth overall, tenth overall, or even later than that. While it might be too much for Devils fans to hope that the best player of the draft will turn out to be the guy taken at thirtieth overall, it is a very real possibility that the lack of standout talent might allow the Devils to find a gem more easily in the 2014 draft than in a draft with more visible talent such as the 2013 one. Of course, this also makes it harder for Devils scouts to precisely identify which of the available players at the thirtieth overall pick have the most potential and can contribute the most to the franchise, but Devils fans will simply have to believe that the amateur scouts can perform the job they were hired to do even under more challenging circumstances.

Will a forward or a defenseman contribute more to the organization?

As anyone who has watched the Devils this year realizes, scoring has been a real challenge for the Devils, and the shootout in particular has cost the team many points that ultimately kept the Devils out of the playoff picture for the second consecutive season. While dubiously competent coaching and defensemen who have no business pinching a puck insisting on doing so anyway at the most inopportune moments had a role in the Devils dropping an obscene amount of leads in games, the team has more depth on defense than on offense, since the firepower of Kovalchuck and Parise cannot be replaced by the indefatigable Jagr, who will probably be retiring after next season and is not a reliable source of scoring for the Devils beyond the 2014-2015 season.

Unless the cupboard has been raided of all remotely promising forward prospects (which is possible, since forwards tend to go quicker than even highly touted defensemen, as shown in the fall of Seth Jones last year), I would prefer to see the Devils draft a forward rather than a defenseman. Only if the drop-off between the best available forward and best available defenseman is quite steep would I like the organization to go after a defenseman.

Which forwards who might be available at the thirtieth overall pick would it be feasible for the Devils to select and what could each of these players bring to the franchise?

Four forward prospects that are likely to be available at the thirtieth overall pick and who can ideally contribute some measure of offense to the organization a couple of years down the line are the following: Connor Bleakley, Nick Shmaltz, Brayden Point, and Brendan Lemieux. Let’s take a closer look at each of these young, promising faces, and see what talents each of them have displayed thus far in their hockey careers that make them worthy of potentially being chosen thirtieth overall in the 2014 NHL Entry Draft.

Our First Prospect: Connor Bleackley

Who is this Connor Bleackley fellow?

Connor Bleakley is a Canadian center who was born in High River, Alberta on July 2, 1996. He stands exactly six feet tall, weighs one-hundred-and-ninety-seven pounds, and shoots right. For those further interested in Connor’s physique and fitness, check out his testing at the NHL Combine:

By the numbers, what would Connor bring to the Devils?

Connor has spent the last two seasons playing with the Red Deer of the Western Hockey League (WHL). During the 2012-2013 season, he played in sixty-six games, scoring nine goals and helping teammates get nine more for a total of 18 points. Throughout the 2012-2013 season, he also appeared on the scoresheet for twenty-eight PIM (Penalty Infraction Minutes). His performance improved during the 2013-2014 season, where he participated in seventy-one games, getting twenty-nine goals, which was tied for the team lead, and thirty-nine assists for a total of sixty-eight points and fourty-eight PIM.

Some highlights of Connor’s junior career in the WHL can be seen here:

As well as here:

You can also evaluate his fighting prowess in this scuffle with Luke Harrison that took place in November of 2013:

Check to see if his fighting technique has improved by comparing that past scuffle to this more recent one with Riley Stadel that transpired in February of this year:

Beyond the numbers, what intangibles does Connor bring?

In November of 2013, Connor was named the captain of the Red Deer, making him one of only three first-time draft-eligible players to captain a Canadian junior team this season. That suggests that Connor has pronounced leadership qualities that he can bring to whatever team drafts him.

These leadership qualities are certainly apparent on the ice, for NHL Central Scouting’s B.J. MacDonald has commented that Connor “deserves every point he has with his strong work ethic” because he “hustles every shift and is not afraid to get in on the forecheck and make things happen.” This description resonates with Devils fans because it invokes memories of forwards like Parise, Gionta, and Elias, who poured every ounce of heart and sweat into each shift, thriving on hard work and determination as much as on talent. A dedicated player like Connor has Devils pick written all over him, since he has the character Lou seeks in members of his team.

How can Connor’s playing style be summed up?

Connor is strong and has good size, which he knows how to use to his advantage. He also has an accurate shot with a quick release that might one day alleviate some of the Devils’ scoring woes. On his skates, he is balanced and quite speedy, so he can locate lanes and soft zones well. B.J. MacDonald depicts his playing style well by stating that Connor is “solid with smart positioning, and he pays attention to detail at both ends of the rink.” That conscientiousness in both parts of the arena will earn him points with Lou, who has a marked preference for forwards of the two-way variety.

Our Second Prospect: Nick Schmaltz

Who is this Nick Schmaltz fellow?

Nick Schmaltz is an American center who shoots right born in Madison, Wisconsin on February 23, 1996. Built along the same lines as Connor, Nick stands exactly six feet tall and weighs one-hundred-and-seventy-two pounds.

By the numbers, what would Nick bring to the Devils?

For the past two seasons, Nick has played for Green Bay in the United States Hockey League. During the 2012-2013 season, he earned fifty-two points, tallying eighteen goals and thirty-four assists, in sixty-four games. Improving his performance this season, he scored an impressive eighteen goals—ten on the powerplay and four that were game-winners—and notched forty-five assists for a total of sixty-three points in fifty-five games.

You can enjoy some of his best moments in Green Bay this past season by watching this video:

Apart from his strong play with Green Bay, Nick has represented the Stars and Stripes well in junior international competition. In silver medal outing at the 2013 Under-18 Ivan Hlinka Memorial tournament, he led the US team in scoring with nine points, recording five goals and four assists.

Here you can see him play against Russia:

You can also watch his performance against Slovakia:

Competing for the US at 2013 World Junior A Challenge, Nick won a gold medal and finished as the tournament’s top scorer with twelve points—four goals and eight assists—in four games. This also led to him being named the Tournament’s Most Valuable Player and to him breaking the previous scoring record of eleven points, which had been held by Kyle Turris in 2006 and Mike Connolly in 2007.

You can listen to Nick talk about his World Junior Challenge gold medal here:

Beyond the numbers, what intangibles does Nick bring?

As evidenced in his abundance of powerplay and game-winning goals, Nick has a knack for making big plays, and his proficiency on the powerplay could be a huge asset for the Devils. He has a very high hockey IQ, and he has a sound defensive game, which will meet Lou’s approval.

How can Nick’s playing style be summed up?

Nick is a stunning offensive player whose quick hands and swift skates work magic on the ice. As Central Scouting’s David Gregory relates, Nick is “a dynamic offensive player. He’s really good at making you think the puck will be taken away from him, but he has such quick hands and can skate with it at full speed and then pull it away from you at full speed.” In a nutshell, Nick is a fast forward who can stickhandle well, thus creating scoring opportunities for himself and others. Such an offensive dynamo would be very useful as a catalyst for sparking some much needed offense on the Devils once Nick is finished maturing at the University of North Dakota, which he has already committed to attending next season and which did such a fine job polishing Zach Parise. Another Sioux would be welcome on the Devils if he could bring back some of that offensive thrust that left when Parise went to the Minnesota Wild.

Our Third Prospect: Brayden Point

Who is this Brayden Point fellow?

Brayden Point is a Canadian center who was born on March 13, 1996 in Calgary, Alberta. He shoots right and will likely drop in the draft because he is only five-foot-ten and weighs a scanty one-hundred-and-sixty pounds, which defines him as a shrimp by hockey standards. Lou will probably not be put off by Brayden’s diminutive stature, as Lou had no qualms about drafting such forwards as Gionta, Gomez, and Parise, none of whom could be classified as behemoths. In judging Brayden, Lou will be more concerned with skill than size, and hopefully Devils fans will adapt a similar mindset if Brayden is taken thirtieth overall. After all, Brayden may be short, but his heart is large, and he plays big.

Watch him take on Graham Black here:

That wasn’t a single occurrence, either, since here he is tangoing with Nick Zajac:

By the numbers, what would Brayden bring to the Devils?

For the past two seasons, Brayden has played for the Moose Jaw Warriors of the WHL. During the 2012-2013 season, he paced all North American rookies and finished fourth among all players in scoring by tallying twenty-four goals and thirty-three assists in sixty-seven games. Improving on this strong showing, Brayden scored thirty-six goals and assisted on fifty-five more for a total of ninety-one points in seventy-two games, leading his team in scoring by an astounding sum of thirty-six points.

You can admire some of the highlights from Brayden’s WHL career here:

In addition to playing magnificently in the WHL, Brayden has represented Canada well in international competition. At the 2013 Ivan Hlinka Memorial tournament he scored four points—one goal and three assists—in five games for Canada’s gold medal winning Team Pacific. As an assistant captain for Team Pacific at 2013 Under-17 World Hockey Challenge, he recorded two goals and three assists. Most recently, as an assistant captain for Team Canada at the 2014 Under-18 World Championship, he contributed two assists in four games to the team’s bronze medal finish.

Beyond the numbers, what intangibles does Brayden bring?

Brayden’s experience as an assistant captain for Team Pacific at the 2013 Under-17 World Hockey Challenge and at the 2014 Under-18 World Championship testifies to his leadership abilities. Brayden is also renowned for his determination and his competitiveness, as Central Scouting’s Dan Marr observes: “What makes him stand out is that he’s one of those guys who won’t be denied. He has that competitive factor where he can go out there, make a difference, and make it at a quick pace.” Leadership, determination, and competiveness are always valuable in members of the Devils.

How can Brayden’s playing style be summed up?

Brayden is an offensive catalyst that plays larger than his slight frame would suggest. He plays a two-hundred-foot game, which is almost always a requirement in Devils forwards, and he is skilled at winning the draw on faceoffs. His smart passes and incredible vision make him an excellent playmaker, but he has the ability to finish scoring chances for himself as well.

Our Final Prospect: Brendan Lemieux

Who is this Brendan Lemieux fellow?

Brendan Lemieux, who was born on March 15, 1996, is the son of Claude Lemieux—the NHL Claude Lemieux who won the Conn Smythe in 1995 when the Devils swept the Detroit Red Wings back in 1995. In case that fact doesn’t provide all you need to know about Brendan, he also happens to be a left winger who stands six feet tall, weighs two-hundred-and-six pounds, and shoots left. To get an idea of what physical attributes Brendan brings to the table, watch him at the 2014 NHL Draft Combine:

By the numbers, what would Brendan bring to the Devils?

For the past two seasons, Brendan has played for Barrie in the Ontario Hockey League (OHL). During his rookie season, he scored six goals and tallied eight assists in forty-two games while also logging fifty-two PIM. The next season, Brendan finished tied for third on his team with fifty-three points (twenty seven goals and twenty-three assists) while serving a team-leading one-hundred-and-forty-five PIM. Following his father’s example of ratcheting up his performance for the postseason, Brendan recorded seven goals and three assists before Barrie was eliminated from the playoffs in eleven games. As part of Team Canada, Brendan also scored an important goal in the championship game against the US at the 2013 Ivan Hlinka Memorial tournament, where Canada claimed the gold.

You can watch some of Brendan’s more exciting skirmishes below:

Also, check out highlights of his goals and assists in the OHL, because that’s the other half of his game:

You can also see him playing against the US at the Ivan Hlinka Memorial Tournament:

Beyond the numbers, what intangibles does Brendan bring?

Like his father, Brendan does not shy away from confrontations and elevates his play for the postseason. His dad also brings valuable guidance that will allow Brendan to continue to develop into a stronger hockey player, as Brendan explains: “He’s my dad; he’s my best friend. We’re always talking and working on what I can do better and what I can do to play at the next level.” Since Brendan’s style is reminiscent to his father’s, Brendan should benefit from his father’s advice and be molded into an even more effective forward as time progresses.

How can Brendan’s playing style be summed up?

Brendan is a fearless player who can often be found sparking scoring opportunities in front of the opposition’s net, and when he isn’t there, he’s probably in the penalty box for getting under an opposing star player’s skin. Far from being a mere goon, he has an excellent one-timer and is a deft playmaker who can create a mixture of assists and goals valuable to a team like the Devils. As Central Scouting’s Dan Marr notes, “Brendan is a guy you can put in front of the net because he can agitate and be a pest; I think that’s in his DNA. He has the same skating stride as his father. He’s also got a great one-timer and can finish. He’s one of these guys who has an equal number of goals and assists, and he brings an important ingredient to a hockey team.” There is much of his father in Brendan, and the same qualities that made Claude so beloved to Devils fans in 1995 could endear Brendan to Devils fans in the future if Brendan is the thirtieth overall pick.

So, what do you think, Devils fans in particular and hockey fans in general? Is one of these four likely to be the best fit for the Devils at thirtieth overall, or is someone else likely to be a better match? Feel free to vote in my poll and leave comments below. Thanks.

 

 

 

 

 

Breaking Down a Miracle on Ice Movie: Money Talks

This next segment begins with a high level of excitement as Patrick pounds away on a typewriter. Now for those of you who don’t know what a typewriter is, it’s one of those ancient pieces of technology that people used to write things in type on before personal computers and laptops were invented. These devices were annoying (my parents say) because they did not connect to the Internet, you couldn’t delete stuff, and the Cut/Copy/Paste function did not exist. We should all feel very sorry for Patrick having to endure these technological Dark Ages, but at least he has lived long enough to experience the wonder that is the iPhone.

Having addressed the mystery of what a typewriter is, we can go back to wondering what Patrick is typing up on this antiquated contraption. Fortunately, the movie does not keep us in suspense for long because this isn’t a horror film. Almost immediately, the camera zooms in on the paper, and, as dramatic music swells in the background, we see that it is a list of the boys who survived the first cuts.

Then the scene shifts to a hallway in which the list of players is affixed to a bulletin board, and we can read the names of the boys in question. The list is organized alphabetically, which is perfectly fine, but it has Neal Broten’s name spelled wrong, which is not. There it is at the third slot, staring us insolently in the face, Neil Broten instead of Neal Broten. In other words, Patrick messed up twenty-five percent of Neal’s first name, or else just assumed that Neal’s parents couldn’t spell and took it upon himself to rectify their errors. This is one of the more hilarious hockey identity mistakes I’ve seen in awhile. It’s almost as good as the time Bobby Clarke forgot Claude Giroux’s name on draft day or the time the wrong Sedin twin was sent to the penalty box. Almost but not quite, so get your act together, Patrick. I mean, you had one job to do, and you messed it up. Think, McFly, think.

All right, I’ve made enough of a mockery of pathetic Patrick by now. I actually don’t think it’s Patrick that’s the real idiot here, but rather the scriptwriters because I highly doubt this is some form of subtle characterization. I think the scriptwriters aren’t even aware that Neal’s name is spelled wrong, which, of course, is their prerogative. After all, it wasn’t like he was going to be an NHL All-Star, be the first American to have a hundred point season, get his number retired by an NHL franchise, or be the first American to score a Stanley Cup winning goal. Okay, I’m going to take a deep breath, calm down, and repeat, “Personal US Hockey Hall of Fame” to myself ten times, although it’s not as if Neal isn’t in the real one. Twice: with the 1980 Olympic team and by himself. All right. I’m over this snub now, because hockey hindsight is a beautiful thing that makes people like these scriptwriters look like morons all the time.

Getting past the insult of nobody knowing how to spell Neal’s name, the real drama in this scene begins when Paradis realizes his name isn’t on the list and confronts Patrick, channeling Victor Meldrew and saying, “Hey, Patrick. I don’t believe it. I mean, I just don’t believe it.”

Trying to be firm and sympathetic at the same time, Patrick replies, “Paradis, we warned you; you just weren’t putting out. I’m sorry.” That’s an actual piece of dialogue. I’m not making this up, even though it sounds like a bad break-up line that a coach should never in a million years be caught saying to a player for fear of sexual harassment charges.

At this point, Paradis completely loses his composure, ranting, “Don’t be. You’re just wasting your time. I mean, the Russians are going to beat you so bad!” His shouting prompts several of the boys in the hallway reading the list to turn around and stare at him. Poor Paradis. I’m sure he just needs a hug from a Tickle Me Emo.

The scene shifts to Rizzo talking to his girlfriend on a payphone, saying, “Donna, I swear I’m terrific… No, I haven’t seen the list yet.”

Rizzo’s romantic moment is interrupted by Les Auge bursting in, hollering about how they both made the team.

In a manifestation of their rapidly developing hockey bromance, Rizzo drops the phone and charges over to hug Les, who babbles something about the font size their names are written in, acting like an excitable toddler on sugar high.

While Les and Rizzo are embracing, a stream of boys races into the hallway and begins clutching at the payphone, since apparently everybody wants to be the first one to tell everyone they know that they made the team. There was definitely a much higher risk of trampling during the days before cell phones.

Rizzo rushes toward the phone, but by the time he grabs it, his call to Donna has already been disconnected, and he has to beg a dime of a teammate.

The scene shifts to a dorm room where Rizzo and some other guys are packing. Walking out of the room with a duffel bag in hand, Les taps Rizzo on the arm, commenting, “Come on, Rizzo. Let’s go.”

Rizzo responds that he’ll see Les outside, and then Dave Christian remarks as Les leaves, “I still can’t believe this is happening. I think my family has been waiting for this since I was born.” What’s this? Is this a subtle reference to the fact that Dave’s dad and uncle were members of the 1960 team that won gold in Squaw Valley? I think it is. I’m such a happy panda right now. Nobody touch me. The feelings are too electric.

“Yeah,” Jim answers from his perch in the corner. “My father’s going to be real happy.”

At this point, Thompson enters and interrupts the powwow by declaring, “Well, at least I don’t have to put up with you any more, Craig.” Thanks for sharing that classy sentiment, Thompson. Please let the door slam on your finger when you leave.

Standing up, Jim demands, “Thompson, got anything else to say?” No, Jim. Don’t feed the troll. Ignore him, and maybe he’ll retreat back under the Bridge of Death from whence he came.

For once not being a jerk just in time for his departure so we have to feel a tiny bit sorry about him leaving, Thompson replies as he shakes hands with Jim, “Yeah. Good luck to you. Good luck to all you guys. I wish to hell I was gonna be with you.” On that final note, he turns around and exits the room, and this is probably the last time we’ll ever see him, so take out your Kleenex if you need them.

After some melancholy music plays in the background, the scene switches to a bank in Boston, where Jim walks into an office, saying, “Dad?”

Looking up from his paperwork and holding onto his glasses, the banker (who is not Jim’s dad), answers, “Hi, Jimmy.”

His dad’s welcome is less warm, asking, “Jimmy, what are you doing here?”

Jim responds that he was told his dad is taking out a loan, and his dad attempts to assure him that “it’s nothing big” and just to tide them over. Unconvinced by this, Jim counters that he can’t let his dad do that, and his father insists that it’s none of his business. Jim wants to know if his father is taking out a loan so he can play in the Olympics, and his dad answers while the banker looks on with wide eyes, “Look, it’s what you want. It’s what the family wants for you.”

“The family can’t afford it,” Jim argues.

Lifting a hand, Jim’s dad replies, “That’s between your mom and me.”

Jim points out, “You can’t speak for Ma.”

Standing up, his dad says, “Yes, I can. She was there when you dreamed it, she was there when we planned it, and she’ll be there when it’s done.” Then he shakes the banker’s hand, thanks him, and leaves the office.

As soon as his dad is out of earshot, Jim states, “I can’t let him do this.”

The banker shrugs, and asks, “What can you do?”

Jim wants to know if he can use the banker’s phone and is told there is a payphone in the lobby. While Jim moves toward the payphones, the camera zooms in on the banker’s bewildered face.

The scene shifts to Herb’s kitchen, where he is working late at night on line combinations for his Olympic team using the photos, when the telephone rings. Picking it up, he snaps, “Yeah? What’d he say? Well, it’s a pity! It’s a damn pity! Bye!”

As Herb hangs up the phone in his typical terrible temper, Patty appears in the doorway, and Herb greets her with a terse, “Phone wake you up? I’m sorry.”

Patting Herb’s shoulders as she crosses the kitchen to take a seat, Patty assures him that it’s okay and remarks that it’s after two o’clock.

Herb relates that he’s “never given up hope” in his life, a statement that is at blatant odds with the pessimism he’s displayed in every scene that he’s shown up in to date. The Herb of this film is clearly in denial. Being his usual miserable self, Herb continues to vent about how all the problems facing him are just too depressing because he doesn’t know who he is still going to have around in February, so he just keeps wishing that the Olympics were over.

When Patty inquires what happened, Herb informs her, “That was a lawyer on the phone. Craig’s family is stretched for money. He wants to turn pro. He feels that’s his only choice.”

Sipping her coffee, Patty asks, “Can I tell you what I think?”

Waving his hand at her, Herb growls, “Go ahead! Shoot! Tell me.”

“Stop worrying about next year,” Patty suggests, all earnestness and passion. “Make a team out of these kids. Take it moment to moment. Craig can’t be the first boy in Olympic history to face money troubles. There are solutions.”

Not wanting to listen to the voice of reason, Herb scoffs, “Oh, it’s that simple, huh?”

“Yes, if you’re determined,” Patty insists before throwing down the gauntlet. “If not, quit.”

“Quit?” Herb rumbles. “Well, at least you’ve given me my alternatives, haven’t you? Quit!”

Turning to address her husband one final time as she exits the kitchen, Patty adds seductively, “The third choice is to come to bed now that I’m awake.”

Showing that testosterone levels are indeed lowered in men of a certain age, Herb stares after her for a moment and then resumes toying around with line combinations. Patty is a lovely, kind, and intelligent woman who deserves better treatment than this, so Herb has earned all the boos in the world here.

Next scene, Herb is sitting in front of a desk, making a case to a suited man busy studying a pamphlet. Herb contends, “You see, the Russians make all their players army officers, while we in turn, we…” Trailing off, he makes a hand gesture indicating nothing.

Yes, Herb, state-sponsored athletic systems are always wonderful institutions. That’s why KGB guards monitored the Soviet teams to ensure none of them defected. That’s why players like the Stastny brothers and Fedorov risked their lives and futures to flee to the Western world and the NHL. That’s why Fetisov and Larionov fought tooth and nail for the freedom to leave the Soviet team and play in the NHL at the twilight of their careers. You might want to come up with a better argument than that, Herb, since America isn’t a Communist country.

“Yes, yes, yes,” answers the man behind the desk in the typical tone of someone trying to brush somebody else off, “this isn’t quite my department, but I’ll see what our Mr. Sears says. He’s in advertising and publicity. Corporate.”

See, Herb, America is a capitalist country, so we have departments for advertizing and publicity. If you want to fundraise for your team, you should look into advertizing deals. Perhaps your team can be featured on a Wheaties box or something.

In another office, Herb explains, “Craig will be living with the team’s doctor, so he won’t be paying any rent, but without corporate help we can’t compete. Like the ad says, America doesn’t send athletes to the Olympics, Americans do.”

Once again, Herb, who finally seems to be learning what it means to live in a capitalist society, is shunted to another department after being told by Mr. Sears that this is more a matter for Anderson, the Vice President of Community Relations, to handle.

The scene shifts to Anderson’s office, where, rifling through photos of the boys, Anderson asks, “Are you sure these players will make the team? It’s never easy to dismiss personnel, but sometimes…”

“The 1960 squad—the one that actually went on to win gold—I was the last man cut from that team,” Herb responds. “They didn’t handle it to well. Now, if these players weren’t sure bets, I’d let them know right now. I wouldn’t be running around looking for a sponsor for them.”

Cracking a smile, Anderson comments that the president of his division was a varsity player at Duluth, so they should all sit down to have lunch together. This is how things get done in a capitalist country, Herb. You network over lunch based on common connections in the hope of getting someone richer than you to fund your project. It’s sickening, but at least you don’t have to spend all day waiting for handouts in the Toilet Tissue line as you would in a Communist country. Misery is always relative, and on that note, I’ll leave you to stew in the relative injustices of Communism and capitalism until the next installment…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The OT Goal Everyone’s Talking about: Who’s Fault Is It Really?

Justin Williams, affectionately or not-so-affectionately dubbed throughout the NHL as Mr. Game Seven, had a chance to take care of business as he does best in Game One of the Stanley Cup Finals when he buried a goal past the bastion that is Lundqvist in overtime, propelling his Kings to a series-opening winner on home ice.

While Kings fans can rest easily knowing that their team has managed to preserve home ice and has broken the Rangers’ stretch of taking the opener of every series this post-season, the rest of the hockey world of course feels the need to blame somebody for the goal, because, remember, only one person can ever be at fault for anything bad in hockey and when a player makes a mistake we should lambast him as much as possible in every form of media to ensure that he feels as terrible as possible for the error and hides his face from the public until the next game. That’s just the best way to build his confidence for a bounce-back play during the next part of the series.

Unfortunately, the downside to this surefire tactic of blaming one person for costing his team the game is when various media can’t reach a consensus on whom to fault for the goal in question. Now, so far I’ve heard Williams’ OT goal blamed on several different players: Lundqvist, Girardi, and McDonagh.

This afternoon, since I’m from the New York area (but a staunch Devils fan), I had to listen to a radio caller who had probably never watched a hockey game before last night’s dial up a local sports radio station to gripe about how Lundqvist cost the Ranges the game, which is complete drivel. Lundqvist is the reason—in the best possible way—that the game went to overtime in the first place. Although his team was brutally outplayed in the third, mustering only about three shots on goal, Lundqvist made twenty saves in the third period alone, which included surviving a barrage on a dim-witted penalty Boyle took with less than two minutes remaining in regulation. Bearing these statistics in mind, we can safely conclude that Lundqvist is not to blame for the Rangers’ loss, however convenient a target for fan rage that goaltenders frequently present.

Now, as we can’t fault the goalie, the next players likely to fall under attack are the defensemen because, as their creative name implies, it is their primary job to defend their net. That raises the question of who exactly the defensemen were and what in the world they were doing when the overtime goal was scored. The answer to the first question can easily be discerned. The Rangers’ number one defensive pairing, Girardi and McDonagh, were on the ice for the fateful goal.

While the answer to the first question can be simply spotted, the solution to the second problem requires a bit more strain on the brain. Trying to be as objective in my account of what transpired during this sequence—since I’m not quite ready to play Pin the Blame on the Donkey quite yet—I’ll breakdown what happened thus:

1)      Pearson mishandles the puck.

2)      The puck comes toward Girardi, who appears as if he has it on his stick.

3)      McDonagh, who was moving backward, begins to skate up ice to the blueline instead, ready to receive a pass for a rush up ice.

4)      Girardi fumbles the puck, causing it to bounce backward rather than slide up the ice to his partner, McDonagh.

5)      McDonagh remains at the blueline, not skating back to provide additional support to Girardi.

6)      On his knees, Girardi hits the puck, either making a desperate attempt at a clear or else striving for a very sloppy pass to Pouliot in lieu of making the safe decision of skating the puck behind the net or shooting it behind the net.

7)      The puck lands on Richards’ stick, and Richards sets Williams up for a shot that ultimately ends the Rangers’ hopes of stealing Game 1 from the Kings in LA.

As my account shows, there is no shortage of potential scapegoats here. A headline of New York Daily News ripped into Girardi for committing what it referred to as “a killer turnover” that resulted in the Rangers’ defeat. Never mind that hockey is a team sport, and that he has a defensive partner who was also on the ice when the goal occurred. Girardi was solely responsible for the goal, and all the other Rangers on the ice were victims who could only watch helplessly as the puck inevitably sailed into the net off Williams’ stick. What a tragedy, but at least we can hold a Canadian accountable for the atrocity and deport him.

In the wake of this goal, some were quick to come out of the woodwork to blame McDonagh for the incident, because McDonagh hadn’t provided much fodder for criticism ever since Game 5 against Pittsburg, so he was due for some public shaming. On Coach’s Corner, Don Cherry provided a dose of this bitter medicine. For those of you who don’t want to be subjected to Cherry’s annoying commentary, his most scathing criticism of McDonagh’s defensive play (or lack thereof) was the following: “There is no one in front. There is a forward coming back, and then there is McDonagh. You kids that are playing defense, when your partner is having a tough time, you are not at the blueline; you back him up. McDonagh should not have been up there. It was not Girardi’s fault one bit.”

Ah, that solves that mystery then. It’s all on McDonagh’s head. That’s a wonderful analysis, because everyone is aware that Minnesotans make delightful sacrificial lambs, always bleating when you punch them in the face that they are sincerely sorry that their teeth were where your fist needed to go. Needless to say, they are much better fall-guys than Buffalo natives like Patrick Kane who are taught to assault taxi drivers for not giving them enough change. I apologize for the Patrick Kane reference (since I’m sure some of you would like to forget that he exists until next season), but he’s an idiot, so he offers an excellent transition to my next remark which is that Cherry is an idiot. Cherry is an idiot not because he faults McDonagh (as I hinted in my analysis of the events leading up to the overtime goal, I believe there is more than enough blame to split between Girardi and McDonagh), but for the extremity to which he goes to in doing so.

Just as the Daily News can only perceive Girardi as to blame, Cherry likewise can only fault McDonagh. It’s as if while the Daily News catches only who’s there on the turnover, Don Cherry can just see who is not there. Instead of fixating on a presence, Cherry locks into an absence and tears into McDonagh more effectively than a school of piranhas. The twisted part of this is that Cherry sounds like he is being so hard on McDonagh because he seems to take umbrage at the people claiming that Girardi alone is at fault for the goal when he observes, “Girardi is the last guy back, and he will take all the blame for this. He gives the puck away, and the goal goes in, and there is McDonagh, 27. What is he doing?”

A salient detail Cherry seems to miss in his quest to blame McDonagh is that he is scapegoating McDonagh here as cruelly as papers like the Daily Mail are Girardi. If Girardi’s responsibility for the goal is diminished by McDonagh’s mistakes, so too is McDonagh’s accountability for the overtime winner reduced by Girardi’s errors. The cherry on top of this irony sundae is the fact that earlier in his tirade Cherry allows for the possibility that some of the blame for the goal could rest with Girardi when he remarks, “Everyone had the camera on Girardi, and it was his fault.” Sadly, this bit of logic gets chucked out the window as soon as his rant against McDonagh reaches a fever pitch.

In the hope of avoiding such pitfalls myself, I would like to study the performance of both New York Rangers defensemen and enumerate ways in which their technique could have been improved to prevent a goal. Focusing on Girardi, he is guilty of an obvious gaffe when he fumbles the puck, although the poor quality of the ice (since hockey in LA in June is the definition of a recipe for bad, bouncy ice conditions) is a mitigating factor that should be noted. When he plays the puck a second time, he makes another mistake in choosing to advance the puck forward when he is not in control of it rather than retreating behind the net with it, which would be the more cautious decision less likely to result in a goal. Defensemen are taught from a young age to get the puck behind their net, where it is easier to defend and there are less options open to opposing forwards, instead of trying to clear or pass the puck up ice when they are not in control of it. However much pressure Girardi felt he was under, there is no excuse for him forgetting this basic guideline. Next time he is in a situation like this, he needs to make the safe decision over the desperate one, or the puck might very well land behind Lundqvist again.

As far as McDonagh is concerned, I have no issue with his initial choice to skate up to the blueline for the pass. When he moved up the ice, it appeared as if Girardi had control of the puck, and it should have been a routine play for a top-pairing NHL defenseman like Girardi. However, when the bad ice caused a bounce off Girardi’s stick, McDonagh should have read the situation better and fallen back to support his partner in lieu of lingering at the blueline. McDonagh is fast as lightning, and my gut screams that if he had skated backward the first time Girardi had trouble handling the puck, he might have arrived near the net in time to block the shot. We’ll never know because McDonagh apparently did not feel the situation was urgent enough to warrant him skating backward until the puck had been turned over to the Kings, at which point him retreating was akin to slamming the barn door after the horses have charged out as a stampede.

Granted, as with Girardi’s, there are mitigating factors when evaluating McDonagh’s performance. McDonagh is a minute-muncher for the Rangers, and he might have been winded enough to consider not skating backward at the first sign of danger a legitimate energy-saving tactic. He is also having a breakout season offensively with his point total this year surpassing the combined output of all his previous years in the NHL, so it is not exactly surprising that he has miscues such as this, since guys like Brian Leetch and Scott Niedermayer say that learning when to join the rush and when to hang back is one of the toughest things about incorporating an offensive thrust to work at the blueline. Ultimately, though, McDonagh is accountable for not making a better read and for not falling back to support Girardi when it was clear that his partner was under duress. Those errors can certainly be forgiven him if he learns from them, but if he doesn’t, we shouldn’t be shocked to see more pucks find the back of Lundqvist’s net.

Fortunately, neither Girardi nor McDonagh are throwing one another to the media wolves to be devoured alive. In his post-game comments, Girardi blames himself for the goal, explaining, “The play happened so quick. I see guys breaking to the middle. I try to pass it, and it jumps over my stick. They’ve got three guys in our zone. I’ve got to try to find a way to get it up and out of our zone. I’m thinking just to get it to the wall, but the guy was there and made a smart play to the middle. You can’t give Williams a shot like that. He’s pretty clutch in the playoffs.” Here, Girardi correctly acknowledges that he is at fault for allowing Williams to get a shot like that in overtime during the playoffs.

Just as Girardi identifies himself as being to blame for the goal, McDonagh likewise takes ownership for his mistakes, stating, “In those situations, especially at that point of the game, we’ve got to understand that when a guy is in trouble, maybe it’s not the right time to leave the zone. I was one of the guys that left the zone, anticipating a play that we were going to get out, but at that point in the game, we just need to help him and be supportive.” Clearly, McDonagh realizes that he made a poor read and that is primary duty in a situation like that would be to fall back and provide back-up to his besieged partner.

Girardi and McDonagh have resisted the temptation to blame one another for the overtime goal, and instead have elected to focus on what each of them personally could have done to prevent the puck from finding the back of Lundqvist’s net. By not faulting each other for what went wrong, they can pay attention to improving their own performance and can continue to trust one another as an effective top-pairing must. Of course, they have also discussed between them what went awry to reduce the probability of history repeating itself in an unpleasant way, as McDonagh relates, “That’s how we work through things as a group. Me and him are a pretty talkative pairing. No matter what happens, bad play, good play, we’re talking about it, trying to improve, trying to make sure we’re on the same page as much as possible…That’s the beauty of our pairing and the beauty of him too. He doesn’t soak in wounds, think about the what-ifs. He just tries to correct it, see what he can do better, and we’re there supporting him.” In the end, that’s the difference between the media and teammates. The media likes to create a story by appointing blame, while teammates look to solve problems and offer support.

On that note, here’s my final verdict: both Girardi and McDonagh are at fault for poor decisions leading up to the goal but both have demonstrated an admirable willingness to learn from their errors, improve their play, and support one another all the better in the future. When they reach the twilight of their time in the NHL, I’m sure that will be more definitive of their careers than one botched highlight reel moment during overtime of the Stanley Cup Finals. After the next game, the media will have another person or two to crucify, and perhaps Girardi or McDonagh will be placed on a pedestal for their work in the next part of this series. The media has a short and selective memory when covering the Stanley Cup Finals, after all. That’s always important to remember when judging players for successes and failures alike.