April 29, 2010

Eulogizing the 2010 Phoenix Coyotes



I had the pleasure of writing the Coyotes eulogy over at Puck Daddy today. Hop on over there and check it out.

This will also be my quasi-replacement of a Game 7 recap. It feels dirty to not write one for a game of that magnitude, but I only had time for one post.

April 26, 2010

Conference Quarterfinals, Game 6: Red Wings vs. Coyotes

PHOENIX COYOTES 5 - 2 DETROIT RED WINGS


Huge playoff loss? Right to the bullets.


  • Mike Milbury mentioned that the "unsung" Conn Smythe Trophy-winning Henrik Zetterberg "doesn't shoot very well" or "skate very well", and that he's "not that strong". Knowing that he had quite the eye for talent while GM-ing the Islanders for 11 seasons, I immediately got Mikey on the phone to see what he thought about some other players:
Zdeno Chara: "Could use a lot more power on his slap shot. Also, he isn't very tall."

Roberto Luongo: "Agility comparable to my grandmother. Is far too Mexican looking to play well for Team Canada ever."

Employee #44, pre-Steve Moore: "Really bad at everything. He's worst at killing people and eating the corpse to hide the evidence. He sucks at that."

Wade Redden: "You've heard of Don Beaupre, right? Just say that name a few times. 'Beaupre'. 'BeauPRE'. It pops off your lips, it's wild. Yeah so I'd rather have Beaupre."

Olli Jokinen: "Looks like an upright mountain lion. Mountain lions aren't allowed in the NHL."

Jason Spezza: "What the fuck is a 'Spezza'?"

Alexi Yashin: "The Russian Wayne Gretzky."

  • I marked down the 13:20 mark as the time where I thought it was "one of those games". I've written about "those games". You've thought about "those games". The ones where the Wings could pile on 60 shots and it wouldn't matter because it's just not in the cards for them. It took less than seven minutes.
  • 4 games and 19 straight penalty kills for the Wings. And then the Coyotes score on their first power play of the game, after two near misses by the Wings to start the second period. It almost, almost would have been comical if it didn't involve me slamming the bedroom door over my head.
  • With the score 2-0 in the 2nd, Brad Stuart gets a pass between the circles and scores. Mark that down as the only thing Stu did in this game that wasn't legally retarded.


  • Lepisto and Morris are dicks.
To close this out, I'm going to say something that could alienate about 90% of our readers and fellow Wings bloggers, and honestly I don't care. This doesn't mean I hate you people, but I'm taking a stand for us 10 percent-ers on one particular subject.

If you truly think that this team doesn't give a shit, that they pick and choose which games to play hard and which ones to coast, or that you want it 50 times more than they do -- then you are a fucking lunatic. Tell that to Nik Kronwall or Andreas Lilja or Johan Franzen or anyone else who has busted their ass to recover from injuries to get back on that ice. Tell that to any of the guys that watched Crosby skate the Cup on their ice last year and had their souls crushed. I'm sure you're right; they just sleep in, dick around for a few hours and ho-hum their way through these afternoon games because they'd rather count their money. I hate to break it to you but this isn't a team full of Rasheed Wallaces. Go back and read some interviews or watch some video on some of these guys' reactions to getting knocked out of the playoffs and tell me it was because of "heart." Did Stuart fuck away a turnover because he doesn't care, or because of bad decision making? I think I'll take the latter.

I'm reading too many people who seem way too entitled as fans. The Coyotes aren't a bad team as much as you want them to be. Their coach is good. Their goalie isn't some bitch bag Russian hack because he let in one or two softies earlier this series. Give them some credit. All too often I'm seeing trash comments that those same people dog on other team's bandwagon fans for, and it's embarrassing. I can be as pessimistic as the next guy, but dammit I don't act like I'm better than the fucking team. (Except Brett Lebda.)


I'm done yelling. Wings in Seven.


April 24, 2010

Conference Quarterfinals, Game 5 -- Red Wings @ Coyotes


DETROIT RED WINGS 4 - 1 PHOENIX COYOTES


The next three goals were huge.

The game was on a knife edge, as Scottish people say (I heard a Scottish person say that one time), and Martin Hanzal had an opportunity to ruin our lives. There he was, one-on-one against our very old rookie goalie who looks more and more like a young veteran goalie with each passing ginormous save.

Here was the save of his life, to this point:




Usually my reaction is to not cheer big saves. I just exhale, look to the heavens (whatever direction the nearest Culver's restaurant is) and pee a little. This one though, I fist pumped until I couldn't feel my feelings anymore.

After what hopefully will be the turning point in the season which leads to 14 consecutive stress-less wins by an average score of 11 goals, the Wings' skaters turned it on for a second straight 3rd period and ran over the Coyotes with three unanswered scores.

Now only if we can get Game 6 moved to Monday night from the always-sluggish Sunday afternoon slot.

Other thoughts ....

  • Listening to a playoff hockey game on the radio is absolute murder. I don't know how Herm does it. For the entire first period, that's what we were forced to do as the Dekemobile traversed toward its game-watching destination. Even more troublesome than not being able to see anything is knowing that the Wings all time goal differential when I listen to the radio is something around minus-200. To my complete surprise, the period finished 1-0 Wings.
  • I don't know if the Phoenix goal was interference or not. I just don't understand this shit anymore. Whatever they decide, I'll deal with it. I may have to deal with it by using illegal substances purchased from dangerous areas of my neighborhood, but it's the playoffs and I have to step my game up. All I know is that when the puck hit the back of the net, Jovanovski's skate looked like it was attempting to sever Jimmy's dick and I sort of wanted to throw up.
  • It was revealed that Employee #44 is a huge fan of James Taylor. What do I add to this? What possible joke could come after saying this? That sentence alone is great enough on it's own that I don't even want to touch it. I don't even have anything against James Taylor -- it's just ........ are we sure he's #44's favorite musical act? Is it certain? Because I would've layed $100 down on it being Insane Clown Posse. That's all I'm saying.
  • Brad Stuart played the most minutes of any Wing (26:31), including a team-high 5:26 on the PK, which killed off all five Phoenix power plays. I feel like I only talk about Stu when bad things happen, so this is me trying not to do that.
  • Something important needs to be addressed promptly: If you watched the game on TV, you may have seen a lady Red Wings fan behind one of the benches, wearing a Wings jersey with gloves and a scarf. In Phoenix. Phoenix, Arizona. I don't care if the arena temperature is lower because of the ice -- I want all zero of the non-Red Wings fans who read this blog to know that this women does not represent our fans in any way, shape or form.
  • Ha! More like Vernon Penis Fiddler. Am I right? Am I right? I know I'm right.
  • Why does Jimmy never, ever seem like he's in a hurry to jump to the opposite post on a wrap around? Each time he does this it takes larger and larger chunks off of my life expectancy. I'm down to like 48 years old after last night. This summer, Jim Bedard's #1 priority should be hypnotizing Jimmy into thinking that the puck is actually a bacon cheeseburger.
  • Can't even discuss the Lilja "penalty" in the 3rd period. I'm not ready yet.
  • The second goal was beautifully ugly, but the 3rd and 4th were just beautiful. On the 3rd goal, you had Homer working like a dog on the boards, Franzen coming up with another great pass (underrated improvement in his game), and Datsyuk's cold blooded finish. On the 4th goal, Fil wanted the puck more than Jovanovski did; and then Z flipped in a backhand from a tough angle to seal it.
  • Before you chastise us for willfully listening to the radio for part of this game knowing full well how bad it makes the team play, you should know that with the full TTD squad together (this includes Fake Herm), the Wings are 5-0 this season and 3-0 this series. The Wings have won the last four of those game by a combined 13 goals, and not once did anyone's pants have to come off. I'm disappointed to say that we'll be separated from each other's essence tomorrow, but come on, it's just a stupid superstition.

April 20, 2010

Conference Quarterfinals, Game 4: Red Wings vs. Coyotes

DETROIT RED WINGS 3 - 0 PHOENIX COYOTES


(Photo credit to Sullyosis, who actually managed to stumble onto the ice drunk and take this awesome picture)

Time permitting, I may update this post with an actual recap, but something had to go up tonight.

THAT was a playoff game. Nothing feels more tense than scoreless playoff hockey, and that's what we had for more than half of Game 4. Jimmy pulled his sack out for this one and put it on the foreheads of all that whispered Chris Osgood's name the last two days. Hank is a postseason monster. Even #44 got in on the action tonight and both of us have to admit that we were impressed.

I'll also take partial credit for dusting off the old "Shower Cap" this morning. As weird as it is to mention anything to do with my nakedness (whatever, we're all family here), it has brought way more good luck than bad luck the past three seasons when my Red Wings baseball hat is in the tub during shower time. I suggest you try this at home. It's fun and incredibly stupid at the same time.

Get naked. Go Wings.

April 18, 2010

Conference Quarterfinals, Game 3 -- Red Wings vs. Coyotes


PHOENIX COYOTES 4 - 2 DETROIT RED WINGS?


By now you've gone through the Losing Cycle of Rage. In which, you get all goosed up to watch the Wings; you are 105% certain that we're going to win; you've got a bowl of guacamole so awesome you want to inject it into your bloodstream; the Wings lay a gigantic T-Rex-sized egg; you are apoplectic; and then you want to replace the guacamole blood with half a kilo of heroin and die so they can't do this to you anymore. We've all been there. We're all on heroin.

And given your fragile state I don't want to alarm you, but I actually did some research for this post. A disturbing trend was found: the Wings hate playing during the day. Yesterday was the 12th afternoon game of the season, and their 10th loss. That means they're close to unstoppable at night, I think. (I did the bare minimum of the research thing.) What could be causing this continuous, weekend afternoon malaise? "Probably the Mexicans" may sound correct, but to be safe I dug a little deeper and uncovered some answers. It seems that the early start times really mess with the Wings' pregame routine.


JOHAN FRANZEN

Typical afternoon schedule:
  • Shooting accuracy drill
  • Bench press competition with Andreas Lilja
  • Car lifting competition with Andreas Lilja
  • Spelling bee with Derek Meech (formerly Andreas Lilja before February 2009)
It appears that without his triathlon training, Franzen is not adequately revved up for games like a caveman-looking meatbrain should be. I know he scored a goal, but his overall performance yesterday and particularly in Game 1 was downright odd in comparison to the last two postseasons. I was losing my shit on the first Phoenix goal as Franzen looked like me when I wake up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom: groggy, legally blind and drenched in some sort of unidentifiable liquid. The "Mule"? Yeah. He has been more like .... eh ..... hrmm .... the Goat! BWAHAAA, you see there? With the animals?


NICK LIDSTROM

Typical afternoon schedule:
  • Translate gameplan from English to Swenglish for Tomas Holmstrom
  • Hand-deliver baked goods to local homeless shelter
  • Collect hair from shower drain to knit wig for chemo patients
Nick just isn't Nick without doing at least 13 good deeds before puck drop. His head is clouded with worry and anguish. "Did Pastor Thompson get my belated birthday card?" .... "Did I smile at the towel boy on my way out of the locker room?" .... "Did I keep my streak alive of 'consecutive toilet paper rolls replaced after using the last of the previous roll'? Trick question -- I'm Nick Lidstrom and I have never pooped in my life."

Our flawless leader was a team-worst minus-3 yesterday. I felt dirty just typing that. It felt weird. It felt wrong. Then I looked it up again and stared at my computer as if to say, "Really? Minus-3?" And the computer nodded at me and said, "Word. It's fucked up, right? By the way, I'm getting really sick of you leaving me on the floor at night. It's cold, there's bugs, and I was like $1,500 so maybe you shouldn't treat me like a fucking pair of shoes. Suck my disc (tray) .. hahahahaha but no seriously I hate your guts and I'm sleeping with your girlfriend."


MIKE BABCOCK

Typical afternoon schedule:
  • Meet with assistant coaches
  • Stare at a wall for an hour, or until a hole appears, whichever comes first
  • Fly to Philadelphia and beat Ville Leino to within an inch of his life
Obviously, it starts at the top, and we can't just throw the players under the bus for lollygaggin'. Coaches have to take heat too, even a guy who I absolutely never question like Mike Babc-

*knock at door*

Hello?

"I heard you say my name."

Uh, Babs? Wow, what an honor, thanks for stopping by. This is quite a pleasant surprise, I wish I still had some guacamole or something to offer-

"I'm going to ask you one time what you were sayin' about me."

I uh .... don't think .... there isn't really .... like, a need per se .... for uh .... me .... to .....

"I asked you a question."

Right .... and I heard you .... believe me, I did ..... and I uh ..... just want you to know uh ...... UHHHHH ....

"You have three seconds before I lodge one of your eyeballs in your anus."

OKAY I WASTALKINGABOUTHOWBADTHETEAMPLAYEDANDIT'SSORTOFYOURFAULT PLEASEDON'TKILLME

"Alright, that's fair. That's all I asked. Was that so hard? Yes, I take full accountability for what happened and we're gonna get 'er goin' for next game. Nothing we can do about Game 3 now, just gotta move on and take measures to not let that ever happen again. Now mop up this piss so I can leave without gettin' my shoes wet, if you don't mind."


PAVEL DATSYUK

Typical afternoon schedule:
  • 30 minute blind folded stick handling exercise
  • Discover riddle of what happens when you give a mouse a cookie
The Datsyuk/Franzen/Homer line as a whole just wasn't alive for this game, and you saw that 30 seconds in when they were all on the ice for a Coyote goal. The most telling thing I can relate to you people is -- and this is one I'll remember for the rest of my life: Employee #44 played at least three minutes more than all of them. You can attribute that to line matchups or whatever, but my god. Something isn't right if .... you know .... the second to last sentence I typed. Had they come out on fire like you'd expect them to at home in a pivotal playoff game, then maybe the final numbers are different. But they didn't and Pav played the least amount of minutes that he's played in a non-blowout loss this year. That makes me sad in the pants.


JIMMY HOWARD

Typical afternoon schedule:
  • Review game film
  • Eat lunch
  • Eat lunch six more times (stick tap to Mike Serven, who is single handedly making this post)
I don't even have a comment here. I just want to talk about how funny it is that a professional athlete -- and one who seems really athletic at that -- has a fucking muffin top. Dude. Jimmy. I'm not in the fittest of shapes myself, but come on man. Even I put down the donuts once in a while. Wait -- actually I don't. But I don't get 1/100000000000th the exercise you do and I'm still not drowning my hip bones in love-handle fat. If I sound like I'm poking fun here, that's because I am and I'm making it painfully obvious but first and foremost I'm simply amazed. Do whatever works, Jimmy. In fact, you might want to consider ditching the pads in favor of that rebound-consuming stomach.

I'm being an asshole. Go Wings.

April 16, 2010

500th Post of Nonsensical Self Indulgent Pantsless Extravaganza. With Midgets. Alright, no Midgets.


There is an important playoff hockey game on later today. So of course we're going to ignore that and talk about ourselves again. Assuming you didn't just click away to something more interesting like checking the barometric pressure, we'd like to welcome you to our 500th post at TTD. It'll be like those lame "anniversary" episodes on sitcoms where they just recycle old highlights instead of coming up with something new. Hopefully you got the dress code memo and are sporting a tuxedo shirt and moon boots.



Ahh, yes, we've certainly had some good times here in the last two years. There was the time we emailed Barry Melrose and told him he was a stupid head because that's what we originally thought blogging was. There was time that we rang the doorbell at A2Y and left a burning back of dog shit only to have the Chief come after us in his truck and shoot at us repeatedly. And the water balloon fight with St. Louis Game Time where we filled our balloons with hot glue. And who could forget the time we got wasted on paint thinner and invented Comic Sans? Yeah that was us. Sorry.

It's been a lot of fun, and we're glad that a number of you have joined us in our journey to inadvertently make the Internet more pointless and confusing. Here are some of the highlights from the first 499 posts.


POST #1

"Yeah, I don't really feel like doing much of an introduction. I think the title pretty much tells you what you'll find here....I live in Michigan and I've grown up a Detroit sports fan, and from time to time I might use this computer to type down some thoughts that I have about sports involving my favorite teams and post them here."


Oh that's what a blog is. Good to know.

And thus, a long slew of directionless banter began at The Triple Deke, as I toiled with what to actually write about on a weekly basis, and when I did write it felt pretty amateurish (as opposed to now when I come to work at Pretend Google Studios each day on the bright, write a post in which I entertain myself by saying words my mother wouldn't approve of, and attend Blogger production meetings with my buddies as we talk shit about Nightmare on Helm Street for defecting to Bloguin. You know, pro blogger stuff.)

**********

ZOMG A COMMENT

Reader comment #1 came from somebody who refers to themself as "Anonymous" (I think it's a Greek name) ...

"I love the title of your blog. One question, though... what on earth does it mean to "pull one's nuts out"?"

Haha, oh gentle reader. This was a play on the "balls to the wall" term that is used most frequently in varsity lacrosse locker rooms. And oddly in was a reference to Derek Meech's uber-confident play during a stretch in 2008. I wonder what ever happened to that guy.

**********

RUINING OUR CREDIBILITY

I found a brief collection of stupid things I've said that made my eyelids curl.

"I've been watching this Ville Leino dude play, and he's the real deal. It's a no-brainer sort of thing. You watch him, and you can tell (with ease, actually) that he has a greater impact to this team on the ice than Kirk Maltby or Tomas Kopecky has. Maltby's "locker room presence" or whatever the hell you want to butter it up as doesn't make up for his shortcomings on the ice."

.....

"Meet the newest Wing, Brad Stuart, and his stupid fucking family. Sorry if I sound a little bitter, but the usually reliable Ken Holland kinda shat his pants on this one."

.....

"Jimmy Howard sucks."

.....

"I honestly wouldn't have lost much sleep over giving up Hudler or Filppula..."

.....

"If (Game 5, 2008 Finals) goes to OT, I will puke from the soul-crushing intensity. I will literally vomit. The Wings have miraculously only played one single solitary overtime game this postseason, and that one only lasted a couple minutes. So I think we're due for one."

Oops.

**********

GAME DAY VIDEOS

A common practice at many blogs around the 'webz is to post random videos because for some reason it is felt that they can bring some sort of luck. We haven't dabbled in this too much, but some of the random clips you have seen are considered legendary to no more than maybe four readers.




This is actually a stand-in. It's Nannerpuss' brother, Mark. We murdered Nannerpuss and threw his body in the Grand River after he lost us the 2009 Finals.




The unofficially official Darren Helm song. For the life of me I can't remember what started this. "Bang-Your-Head" in the chorus is inexplicably changed to the syllables "DAR-REN-HELM", and for some reason that makes sense.




One of my favorite videos of all time. I still can't tell if this news team is in on the joke or not. That's what makes it great.




No, there's nothing wrong with your sound. Youtube did the unthinkable and disabled the audio track because of unauthorized mumbo jumbo. I'd be lying if I said I was anything other than completely heartbroken.

**********

SEGA & HOCKEY

The Sega Season Previews were a lot of fun to do, as one could assume when you combine the greatest sport on Earth with history's greatest game console. You can find them all on one page here. This coming offseason promises to be a lot duller when we introduce the Commodore 64 preview series.

**********

MIKAEL SAMUELSSON

We have had a little too much fun at Sammy's expense. He is essentially the unofficial 3rd author here at TTD on account of how gracious he has been to contribute new material. And wouldn't you know it, he offered to stop by to help us celebrate TTD500.


Samuelsson: "HOW DARETH YE."

TTD: "What?"

Samuelsson: "YOU HAVE GOT SOME GALL TO INVITE ME TO YOUR ABODE, AFTER YEARS OF MAKING LIGHT OF MY ACCENT AND PENSION FOR EMPHASIZING MY FASHIONABLE PROSE."

TTD: "No, Sammy, it's not like that at all. People enjoy you man, and we just wanted to have you by to say a few words, that's all."

Samuelsson: "HA. 'SAY A FEW WORDS'. WORDS THAT I'M SURE YOU WILL NO DOUBT CAPITALIZE TO THE HIGH HEAVENS IN AN EFFORT TO MAKE ME SOUND FOOLISH. WELL I TELL YOU THIS, SIRS, I WILL NOT COMPLY WITH YOUR WISHES. I WILL NOT FALL INTO THE MUDDY, LITERARY THICKET OF A TRAP THAT YOU HAVE SPRUNG UPON ME. I WILL NOT-- HEY WAIT A MINUTE WHY ARE YOU WRITING THIS DOWN."

TTD: "It's called note taking, it's a basic journalistic practice."

Samuelsson: "'JOURNALIST'. I THOUGHT YOU WROTE A BLOG. AREN'T YOU JUST SUPPOSED TO MAKE UP THINGS THAT I DIDN'T ACTUALLY SAY."

TTD: "No."

Samuelsson: "HMMM, OKAY. ANYWAY, WHERE WAS I."

TTD: "You were yelling."

Samuelsson: "THAT'S RIGHT. I WAS SCOLDING YOU FOR TREATING ME LIKE A 2ND CLASS CITIZEN ON MY OWN PLANET. I WOULD'VE REALLY WENT OFF THE DEEPEST END AND SAID '3RD CLASS' BUT IN FAIRNESS TO YOU AND YOUR PROPERTIES I AM IN FACT NOT TODD BERTUZZI."

TTD: "We appreciate that."

Samuelsson: "DON'T MENTION IT. BUT WHAT I REALLY CAME HERE FOR WAS TO PERFORM INQUISITION ON YOU, SIRS. I HAVE SOME QUESTIONS. LIKE WHY DO YOU CONTINUOUSLY FRAME ME AS ROBIN WILLIAMS ON YOUR WEBSITE."

TTD: "Huh?"

Samuelsson: "YOU KNOW, HOW HE WAS STRICKEN WITH THE DISEASE WHERE HE WAS A WEE CHILD IN AN ADULT'S BODY. WHAT WAS THAT ILLNESS CALLED.... PLANTER FASCITIS, I THINK. ANYWHO, YOU DO THIS TO ME AND QUITE FRANKLY I FIND IT JUVENILE AND OFF-PUTTING. HAVE YOU NO SHAME. AND BY THE WAY, I USE QUESTION MARKS YOU DOLTS, SO FEEL FREE TO USE THOSE ANYTIME."

TTD: "Well then...."

Samuelsson: "AND ANOTHER THING. WATCH THIS VIDEO-- NO, IT'S NOT ONE OF THOSE. IT'S A VIDEO OF ME SPEAKING LIKE A NORMAL, BIPEDAL HUMAN. EXPLAIN TO ME HOW YOU GOT *THIS* OUT OF *THAT* (lots of hand movement)."



TTD: "But dude, you are TALKING LIKE THIS as we speak. Yeah you are using a regular-person voice in that interview, but right now--"

Samuelsson: "ALRIGHT I CONFESS. THIS IS MY REAL VOICE. HOW DARE I ACCOST YOU IN SUCH A MANNER WHEN I CANNOT RESPECT MY TRUE IDENTITY. I OWE YOU FELLOWS AN APOLOGY. IT IS UNSPEAKABLE HOW I HAVE TREATED YOU TODAY."

TTD: "Sam it's not a big deal, we really don't mind."

Samuelsson: "NONSENSE AND HORSECOCK--"

TTD: "Horse cock?"

Samuelsson: "--POPPYCOCK, I SAID POPPYCOCK. HERE -- WILL YOU ACCEPT THIS HALF-EATEN PACKAGE OF TRISCUITS THAT I HAPPEN TO BE CARRYING. NO OTHER GIFT COULD SYMBOLIZE MY SORROW QUITE LIKE THIS REDUCED FAT NABISCO TREAT."

TTD: "Okay Sam, thanks. And thank you for stopping by."

Samuelsson: "DON'T MENTION IT, FRIENDS. ALWAYS A PLEASURE TO VISIT SCRAPPY OCTOPUS."

TTD: "Eh, close enough."

**********


And so wraps up our 500th post. We thank you for your patronage and support, and hope you stick with us for another 500 or so, even after we become a $29.99 monthly insider subscription. Enjoy the weekend.

Go Wings.


April 15, 2010

Conference Quarterfinals, Game 1 -- Red Wings @ Coyotes


PHOENIX COYOTES 3 - 2 DETROIT RED WINGS



I can't put a better spin on this game than George Malik, who eloquently penned:

"The Red Wings lost a 3-2 decision to the Phoenix Coyotes in the opening game of the Western Conference quarterfinals for a simple reason--they allowed their wariness toward the Coyotes' unabated, uncalled, and unchecked physical play distract them from putting in the kind of detail work that wins games. The Wings lost faceoffs, one-on-one puck battles, push-and-shove-with-the-puck scrums in battling their way toward the opposition net and allowed the Coyotes to muscle their way in front of Howard all too easily, all while watching their transition game grind to a halt."

This is why you don't read Malik before writing. You're sitting there going, "Man ... that pretty much sums it up, I don't even know what to say differently, and now I've got all this free time. I guess I can go make a sandwich now. But what kind of sandwich? Probably ham. I fucking love ham. People who don't like ham are the same type of people who wear sandals to show off their messed up toenails and their feet that they never wash; I mean they probably think that they're clean because the soap in the shower runs down to the feet, but without sufficient scrubbing you're not really cleansing anything." Ham hating and unwashed feet go together like Ed Jovanovski and goat porn.

Luckily I'm nerd enough to occasionally write these things while the game is going on, so there's more to this post than foot gibberish.

Other thoughts ...

  • Jimmy looked good though. He looked as good and confident as I've seen. If we have a much lower-scale "Wings-Oilers" upset in the making, it won't be because of our goalie. It will be because the Wings were out-hustled and out-hearted by the Coyotes. Don't tell me to shut any whore mouths because I'm mentioning what you think is unthinkable -- Phoenix played like their entire team was on fire, and I've seen those type of teams beat the Detroit Red Wings in the postseason. (Shutting whore mouth.)
  • The Coyotes' 4th line is "Korpikoski - Winnik - Nokelainen". I feel like J.R.R. Tolkien is in charge of these line combinations.
  • Shane Doan took a needless shot at Homer after an offsides during the 1st period, and was in general playing like a comet with hockey pads on. After this and the Ericsson thing earlier in the year, I'm worried that you guys aren't going to let me like Shane Doan anymore. And because of that, I got a gift for you guys in an attempt at bribery. Here -- (Holds out a closed fist. Uncoils middle finger.)
  • The Homer goal -- or actually, it should be called the Bryzgalov goal -- was one of the weakest I have ever seen in the Stanley Cup playoffs. A zero screen, zero deflection, 50 foot wristshot (from Tomas Holmstrom) that was simply missed with the glove. Not all was lost for Bryzgalov as he was immediately signed by the Pittsburgh Pirates.
  • Did Nick Lidstrom really, actually, intentionally shoot that puck through three sets of legs and avoid one large ass for that power play goal? Is that even possible? Is it legal?
  • Lee Stempniak has 14 goals in 18 games since being traded from Toronto. I don't even feel like I can make a joke about an individual Maple Leaf without sounding like I'm copying Down Goes Brown, so I'll just admit it up front and copy him anyway:
"The item: The piano on Lee Stempniak's back
Missing since: March 3, 2010
Case details: The item apparently holds great sentimental value to Stempniak, since he hadn't been seen without it since November 2008."

That's too funny. And also a lot easier than coming up with my own stuff. Tune in next week when I hack Gary Bettman's Hotmail account.
  • As long as I'm continuing to defer to other bloggers, this from TSO is a must read paragraph, and one I concur with:
"Johan Franzen

Seriously guy, I love you, but I think you set our ginger movement back about 50 years tonight (I began to wonder if gingers in fact do NOT have souls). You could not have possibly played like any bigger of a wuss tonight. Crash the net you bullish mule fuck."

  • The Coyotes had the 3rd worst power play during the regular season. The Wings took the second fewest penalties. More than likely, the Phoenix PP won't have a signific-- oh god dammit they just scored on the power play again.
  • The missed high stick to Nick's face: How .... wha ....? I don't think they get more obvious than this. Puck is right next to him, so you figure someone is watching. They're standing in open ice. Nick is slightly bent over with his face leaning out into plain sight, and a stick hits it. Blood pours from his face in the form of liquid gold and essence and no call is made. This would've led to a 5-on-3 and could've changed the game.
  • (Pregame, Wings locker room) ...
Brian Rafalski -- "Hey kid, wanna make a friendly wager?"

Darren Helm -- "Sure, okay sir."

Rafalski -- "Alright good, here it is: $1,000 to whoever can get their ass reamed out there the most."

Helm -- "You mean like butt sex, sir?"

Rafalski -- "No, you homo -- do I look like Jason Williams? I'm talking about getting physically destroyed by the opposition. See who can put themselves in more vulnerable positions to let Coyote players tee off with monster hits. Osgood will judge while he pretends to chart faceoffs. Whaddaya say kid, how about it?

Helm -- "I don't know sir, that sounds dangerous. And I'm not sure, but that does seem counterproductive in terms of actually trying to win the game."

Rafalski -- "What are you, a Mary? Grow a set. Without Kopecky here to get his face hollowed out, the secret gambling bug is eating away at me. I still feel kinda bad about that -- wait, no I don't. Come on kid, I need this. I NEED this."

Helm -- "Mr. Rafalski ..... do your .... do your pants really need to be off right now?"

Rafalski -- "I'll put them back on if you say yes."

Helm -- "Okay."


Let's hope that they make it back to Detroit without being turned into sawdust.

Go Wings.


April 14, 2010

TTD Minute - Episode I


Below is the first episode of a new feature called The Triple Deke Minute. They will be short videos probably dedicated to something hockey-related, because, as fate would have it, this is a hockey blog. We thought it would be relevant. Also, we are already aware that the video is not exactly one minute in length, but "The Triple Deke Short Video of the Week-ish" sounded stupid, and worse yet we suck at titles (The original name of this site was going to be "I Like Sports". That's not a joke. To say I was at wit's end is like saying I'm not a huge fan of the guy who wears #44.)

Today's episode is about the Phoenix Coyotes and snake throwing.




April 13, 2010

A Look Back at our Pointless Predictions


What could be more self-serving than this -- neglecting game recaps and ignoring our readership for days on end, and then come back only to talk about something that is mainly about us and admittedly pointless. Well I'll tell you what's more self-serving: Rape. Yeah. Raping is pretty much worse. So to all of you whiny complainers out there (i.e: the one guy who politely emailed to see where we've been) that sound you hear is "perspective". And that sharpness in your chest is "shame". And that dampness in your underpants is the proper reaction to seeing a new post on our site. (Wow, you are weird.)

_________________________


This was our official East and West predictions.

The opposite of self-serving is "self deprecation", so says official TTD Jewish Correspondent Sam Bernstein. With this knowledge, we will look at some of the pointless prediction highlights.


"#13 ~ OTTAWA SENATORS"


"Pascal Leclaire has had one good season and is coming off major ankle surgery, so I don't picture him being the savior of anything"

This much was true, but it was easier than predicting the sun to come up and not tell racist behind Africa's back. (Not because a talking sun is "highly unlikely" or some other witchcraft, but because the sun is a model citizen and wouldn't even think about performing such a vile act. Our sun is grand, and it is bold. It's like the Kirk Cameron of suns.)

Ottawa surprised me by finishing 5th. Little did I know that some guy named Brian Elliot would take the job away from Leclaire and do well enough to become the Senators' starting playoff goaltender -- a job which an Applebee's dish washer would be over-qualified for.


#15 ~ PHOENIX COYOTES
#14 ~ COLORADO AVALANCHE

"Take your pick between Colorado and Phoenix for worst in the West. I give the slight nod to Phoenix because Colorado's defensemen run a tad bit deeper, but then you're getting into "tallest midget" territory."

Fast forward seven months and I am legitimately scared of Ilja Bryzgalov and the hard charging Coyote lineup. How scared am I? Scared enough that I told Chris Hollis that I think the Wings will win in 4 games. Right. That doesn't make any sense. Hey, nobody's making you read this stupid shit.


#12 ~ LOS ANGELES KINGS

"I've decided that I like the lineup the Kings have, so I'm going to be a closet Kings fan this year. Well actually if I just told you then I guess it's not really a "closet" type of deal. But then again you all assume that I'm a raving homosexual and I've never officially come out of the closet, so I guess..."

I should've went with this instinct and moved the Kings higher in favor of some other dumb selection. I still really like that lineup and do not want to face them again this season. Coach Terry Murray also brings me fond memories of 1997; not just the Stanley Cup, but also playing street hockey for 15 hours a day and leading my baseball team with "most times getting hit in the sack after misplaying a ground ball". I suppose that last one is only fond in retrospect.


"#3 ~
BOSTON BRUINS

Something about this team is just screaming "let down" to me, but I can't really back that up with anything,"

Oh I don't know, how about some common sense? So many of their guys had too-good-to-duplicate years in 2008-09, it would've been quite an achievement to come close again. I love Tim Thomas but my gut said that he couldn't possibly post the same season back-to-back. Even better, I picked the Bruins to advance to the Finals.


"#8 ~ EDMONTON OILERS

Every single year -- every single year I think the Oilers are going to be better than they actually are. This year is no different. By me saying they will squeak into the playoffs probably means that they'll actually finish 13th. They've got a bunch of talented forwards who probably won't put up as many points as I think, a group of talented defensemen who probably aren't as deep as I think, and a goalie who is probably a lot more average than anyone thinks. I know this, and yet I can't help myself."

Uh huh.


"#6 ~ MINNESOTA WILD

Ooo, this one is fun.

"I keep reading about how the Wild don't have enough offense, and I disagree."

(12th in the West in goals per game.)

"They aren't going to blow anyone out of the building,"

(Yes, run with this thought.)

"but I think they'll be good enough to make the playoffs at the very least."

("the very least" -- like I was clearing my May schedule for a Minnesota road trip for the Conference Finals.)

"They've also got a great set of defenders and a superb goaltending tandem."

(11th in West in goals allowed.)

"With the shackles of the Lemaire system taken off, this could be exactly like the 2005-06 Detroit Pistons regular season, when Flip Saunders came in and a great defensive team added more of a scoring dimension to their game -- except this would involve a lot more white people."

(With the shackles of the Lemaire system taken off, the Devils won 48 games and the Wild were exactly like the 2009-10 Detroit Pistons.)


"#1 ~ DETROIT RED WINGS

Holmstrom - Datsyuk - Franzen
Cleary - Zetterberg - Bertuzzi
Leino - Filppula - Williams
Maltby - Helm - Draper

Lidstrom - Rafalski
Kronwall - Stuart
Lebda - Ericsson

Osgood

Look at that team. Not just the names themselves, but the tornado shape is creates as you go down the lines. It must be some kind of sign, right? Of course it is. The Red Wings are totally going to Bill Paxton their way through the West this season like a renegade F5."


I meant the playoffs! The playoffs are Bill Paxton Time! Come on Wings, it's time to channel a time in which Helen Hunt was almost considered reasonably attractive, almost, kind of, well whatever, and tear though the Western Conference.

April 6, 2010

TTD joins TOV: Episode #14

Be sure to ignore all life-altering emergencies and download the newest episode of The Obstructed View. That globetrotting sex demon Chris Hollis welcomes us into his e-home to join Joe Burkel from Red Wings Guy and Jess from Bingo Bango. There's also a contest:

"Since we try and keep the show SOMEWHAT (and I use that term loosely) clean, Tyler had some fun with swearing on the show and subsequently got the dreaded censor bleep a few times. We decided that this would be the perfect time to roll out another contest, so we are proud to announce the "What the F**K did Tyler say?!" contest here at TOV. Listen to the show, hear Tyler try to impress Jess with his lexicon of foul words and send us a mail (theobstructedview [at] gmail [dot] com) with your best guess at what Tyler said to earn the language misconduct during the show. Entries will also be accepted via Direct Message through twitter (@RedWingsOV). All of the correct guesses will be entered into a drawing for a prize that has yet to be determined, but will be awesome nonetheless."


I know nothing.


April 5, 2010

Our Weekend



I don't have much will to talk about either of the weekend hockey games. I don't think that either is a sign that this big gay Wings train is slowing down en route to the playoffs, but I just can't make myself type up 10 bullet points on officiating and Daniel Carcillo's rat face. On top of that our Spartans lost a game that was both unwatcheable and heart-wrenching, and it will probably still take a few more days to get over.

I'd rather tell you about how we were face to face with Zetterberg, Kronwall, Cleary and a few others after Saturday's game (...because it feels relevant, not because I'm bragging. Honest.) Thanks to a special friend of a friend of a friend, I had my first in-person experience with a Red Wing. I'm sure a number of you have stood in lines for autographs, or you see them now and then at the local deli, or maybe you are Kris from Snipe Dangle and your lucky ass got to meet Steve Yzerman that one time (I fucking hate you, I'm dead serious). I, however, blog from my mother's basement 19 hours a day and do not resemble any of the above. And thus, seeing the likes of Mike Babcock standing five feet in front of us made me turn 6 years old.

We stood in this area where it appeared visiting teams gather to see friends and family. We saw just about every Predator, but nearly overlooked Jordan Tootoo because he's so stumpy. Conversely, Wade Belak is bigger than an ox. He looks like he should be Franzen's brother.

Most of the Wings were rushing out, in all likelihood because they were leaving immediately for Philly and/or because they had kids. Speaking of which, Homer's kids look so Swedish it's hilarious. Like impossibly Swedish. It was sort of cute ... but I swear to god if you tell anyone I said that, I'll kill you. I will fucking kill you.

Cleary came out and gave away a couple of signed sticks. Brent somehow happened to have a Dan Cleary card on him and got it signed. (True story: Cleary paused just slightly before signing it, almost looking surprised that somebody was actually carrying a card with him on it.) Desperately trying not to say anything that I would regret for the rest of my life, I failed and said, "So, are you playing tomorrow?"

"Yeah," he replied. Then I wondered if he thought I meant him or the team. Then I wondered if he gets asked that all the time since he gets injured every other week. Then I felt kind of sad.

Kronner also stopped to sign. He was very soft spoken; I'm not sure how different it would've been had the Wings won, but he has always seemed like a guy who really doesn't like losing. I've always admired him for that, and I'm going to pretend that's why he didn't come running up to me with his arm extended for a high five. But whatever. He could've told me to eat shit and die and I wouldn't have cared, because that's the type of surly behavior I like to exibit after my favorite teams lose. (Side note: For somebody who makes a living by turning guys like Martin Havlat into dead bodies, he looks almost small in person without pads on. While standing within dry humping distance of him and wondering if he'd accept an invitation to the prom, I realized that I was noticeably larger -- although he's probably 185 pounds of lean, chiseled muscle while my goofy frame is made up mostly of Cheeto fat.)

When Z started walking toward us, I almost ran away. How does one stand in the presence of this perfectly dressed man? Right or wrong, I felt like a lower form of being. However, if I did run away I wouldn't have been able to smell him. That's right. Z's post-shower smell was tangled up in my nostrils. He then signed Brent's hat and my program and said "Pleasure" after we thanked him for autographs. Loosely interpreted, this means we pleasured Henrik Zetterberg.

Nothing this cool will probably happen to us ever again. Maybe it's for the best. I was so nervous that I was breathing weird, and my mouth was hanging open like Evgeni Malkin after a 90 second shift. Once was plenty and we owe it to our friend John and his brother James for a great trip. Thanks bitches.


April 2, 2010

Game #77 -- Red Wings vs. Blue Jackets


DETROIT RED WINGS 3 - 2 COLUMBUS BLUE JACKETS


The Wings have now reached that odd, seemingly indeterminable number of points that magically awards them a playoff spot. They are at 95. By my math (which is awful, for what it's worth), they have a magic number of 3 to for-realsies clinch a spot in Mike Babcock's tournament.

We had a couple of injury scares with Flip's wrist and Mule's foot, so hopefully they're alright. What wasn't scary was Rick Nash; no points and only took two shots the entire night. He did try to check Hank into the Detroit River, but there were no casualties. I consider it a success whenever the Blue Jackets play a whole game and Nash hasn't killed somebody with one of his life-altering charges to the net.

Other thoughts ...

  • Babcock now has a coaching record of 254-100-51. Totally missed the celebration for loss #100 the other day. So congratulations Mike. You didn't earn it, or something.
(Wait a minute .... you don't congratulate people for losing. That is backwards. Oh, what a silly blog!)
  • Columbus coach Claude Noel looks like a substitute physics teacher. Every time they showed him it made me want to fold up a paper airplane and throw it at Dane Van Horn's head (I'm running with the assumption that you know Dane Van Horn is a kid I went to high school with, and that I was a bit of a class clown that made teachers want to get in their minivans and drive off a cliff and into a blue whale's mouth. That's a slight exaggeration, but so is your penis.)
  • Mickey said that Datsyuk "has more moves than a monkey on a high wire". I don't know about you, but I'm just a tad uncomfortable with Mick haphazardly throwing out any phrase with the word "monkey" in it. It's the same feeling I get when my dad is around a big group of people after a few drinks and starts talking about the Middle East. I'm calling it now -- within five years he's going to be off the air because of a Jimmy the Greek-type moment.
  • Homer probably gets so much credit for being an annoying shitbrick in front of the net that he isn't credited enough for his work in the corners, namely his ability to retrieve a 50/50 puck and get it back to the point or an open man. That's what he did on Datsyuk's power play goal, a wicked wrist shot that brough upon Ken Daniels' "SNIPED" call -- which honestly I don't hate like some of you do. I sort of enjoy it. Keep doing it, Ken. You go girl.
  • #44's "Kick" goal: That one was so close to call that I'm surprised it was overturned. I don't know the specifics of the rule (I could look it up .... should I look it up? ...... probably ..... mehhhh) but it would seem to me that it doesn't matter if he was intending to redirect it or not, as long as there was some motion with the foot. However slight, he did appear to motion his foot into position to redirect it. Final verdict: fuck it! We scored!
  • I'm surprised that R.J. Umberger got a 3-stars selection over Jimmy Howard, who had to mae around 10 reeeally good saves to keep the Wings in front. Columbus had chances off the rush the entire game it seemed.
  • Watching this team play with a late lead feels like staring into the sun without eyelids.
  • We'll be at the Joe to watch the all important Wings/Preds game on Saturday afternoon, and apparently we're getting treated to some sort of V.I.P., autograph-y post game thing. No idea what is going to come of that, but you'll know it went well if we come back screaming like an N'Sync fan who found a Timberlake pube outside of their tour bus.
Go Wings