Friday, December 19, 2008

And the derby winner is...

Attention Vancouver!



Carry on.

Thursday, December 18, 2008

This ain't the Coliseum

As per usual, I am a couple of days late jumping onto the "hockey controversy train". Please recall this incident which occurred a few days ago. Now, someone getting as severe of an injury as Don Sanderson did is no laughing matter, nor is it something to just be shrugged off, especially in the light of how often fights break out in not only the NHL, but in every level of hockey. I'm not kidding when I say every level either.

When I first heard about this, I instantly formulated an opinion about it as anyone would (and seemingly everyone did). I have had a back-and-forth relationship with hockey fights for a long time and this tragedy only seemed to further confuse my position, but it simultaneously gave me a whole lot of things to say about it. Before I could gather my thoughts together for a nice rant though, Bob McKenzie of TSN had to go and spoil the party by basically calling a spade a spade:
"...I am also sick over how this tragedy has become a jumping-off point today to either rally around the game and how it’s played or to use it as an example of all that is wrong with hockey."
Basically, ol' Bob is saying that all the pro fight boosters and no fight naggers are taking the humanity out of this incident by using it as a rallying point. You can read the whole thing here. While I wholeheartedly agree with Mr. McKenzie's sentiments, I also can't help but feel a need to say something about the matter now that it has once again come to the forefront. I have no doubt that there are people out there using Don's injury as diatribe ammo without batting an eye, but I nonetheless feel that a debate is appropriate as long as it is in the name of preventing more instances such as this rather than for the far less important issue of "preserving the integrity of the game". Not saying anything about the cause of his injury while simultaneously declaring how terrible it is doesn't really make any sense to me. If we can all learn something from this, we are at least finding a small amount of good in a horrible situation and preventing more reasonless pain.

So now that I have established my moral bearings, my opinion: fighting in hockey is all cool with me.

If you knew me in any way beyond being an anonymous Internet pseudonym you would know that this is a rather odd stance for me to be taking. I am pretty much the most liberal, peace-loving, violence hating, kitten cuddling dude you will ever come across. But it should also be taken into consideration that not everyone is as good at controlling their temper as I am, and also that I live on the Internet thus limiting my most stressful daily moment to something between "oh noes I have to cook food" and "goddammit I need to go reset the router again". When you start considering the amount of nonsense that goes on on the ice (both intentionally and unintentionally) it is understandable that sometimes people are going to lose their cool. Hockey is fast and full contact and without a certain level of self policing, that wouldn't be possible; the man can't (and shouldn't) be the players' babysitters.

Unlike other sports combatants and referees generally adhere to a vague but rather effective set of rules. These have been listed and talked about many times, so I won't bother with the specifics of "the code" (although here is a fun article about it if you are so inclined). I feel that fighting is good for the players' well-being (that sounded hilarious, didn't it?) because it allows some fairness and balance to exist in the otherwise chaotic world of hockey. It is only human nature to want retaliation after getting hit by a questionable check, and having a round of fisticuffs accomplishes that in a far safer manner then retaliating with your own questionable check. I also think that fighting is okay in hockey but not in other sports due to the limitations imposed on a player by their gear. With all the padding protecting their bodies, the skates restricting their feet, and the lack of traction the ice grants them, hockey fighters are always being subjected to two sets of rules: physical and mental. Sure, there are still some gray areas in the rules that people squabble over like helmets (wear them!), visors (take them off!), the instigator rule (umm, no comment), and when a ref should step in to break up a fight (use your brain!), but a century and change of on ice boxing has led to some pretty decent guidelines that are almost universally followed.

Besides all that, it should also be mentioned that fighting isn't even the most dangerous thing going on on the ice. The puck is a frozen piece of rubber being smacked around at 90+ miles an hour and men weighing around 200 lbs are skating at high speeds trying to crush each other into either wood, glass, wood and glass, or ice with concrete under it. This isn't a safe game, and yet we play on. Just like everything else in life, there are risks involved, so make sure to keep your head up but don't let fear limit you.

But alas, it can't be left simply at that. While I have no problem with the idea and purpose of hockey fighting, I DO have a problem with the current state of it. The goons have got to go. The game is called "hockey" and not "ice boxing" for a reason. Fighting is a secondary aspect of hockey, and any player that is out there for purely enforcement based reasons shouldn't be playing the game. I don't doubt the will, hard work, or hearts of any of the many enforcers in the league, but I do have to question what good they really do when they use fighting to bully other players instead of as a last resort when someone is taking liberties. The specialized enforcer set of players are responsible for 90% of terrible on ice incidents and the mindset they are trained to utilize is something that is both counter intuitive to player safety and, less importantly, incredibly unexciting.

We need to stop talking about if fighting is appropriate and start talking about WHEN it is appropriate. When a player steps on the ice, they are not suddenly allowed to discard their humanity and be a thug with no consequences. That seems to be the mindset infiltrating hockey on all levels and it is the cause of most senseless violence in the game. It is ultimately up to us as consumers and/or parents to begin showing our displeasure against the more senseless aspects of hockey thuggery and to begin asking for skill and ability at all times rather then just settling for "big and violent" when the former is in short supply. Even to this day there are smaller more skilled forwards who are great at the game but are unable to participate in the world's highest level leagues because they can't handle the level of unnecessary violence thrown their way by the goon squad.

In the end it really comes down to this: If you want staged violence, check out the WWE or boxing. If you want a fast paced game involving skilled players skating at high speeds, shooting, and hitting each other (oh, and occasionally dropping the gloves when appropriate), then hockey might just be your game. There is no doubting that this is awesome. But the artificial cultivation of hockey fights, the goons, the websites, the junior league players committing violent acts because they think "it's part of the game" is not. A young man is clinging to his life right now because of a certain sect of people demanding that hockey players "pay the price" and that the only way to do that is to endlessly fight over every little thing. This isn't what I became a fan of this sport for, and I hope that goes the same for all of you.

With my rant over, I would like to direct your attention back to Don Sanderson's condition. His teams website is giving updates here and also offering an email address to send him good vibes. Hopefully, this will all turn out for the best.

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

And who are you again?

Hi! I am Shawn - aka RoShaCla. I was recruited by Wrap for this little venture in blogging super-groupery and promptly disappeared when it launched. Life happens and such, ya know? But anyway, now I am here and ready to post tangents, diatribes, and other good stuff like that.

A little bit about me: I was born in New Jersey and currently reside in Arizona. I have been a NJ Devils fan since '94. I run my own blog called
King Of All Jacks
which I often ignore just as much as this one; I'm working on it though! I plan to keep the majority of my Devils coverage there and to try and talk about more broad hockey issues here. Hopefully I can make it interesting and get some discourse going in the process.

Now that my intro is out of the way, I'd like y'all to take a gander at the top of the page. Notice anything different? I felt the default banner wasn't cutting it, so I made one (not like I said I would do that a month ago or anything). Two days of not remembering how to use photoshop, looking for pictures of hockey players in tootoos, and struggling how to best represent niftyness in the clutch has lead to my current creation now adorning the top of this blog.

You likey?

The lines, besides obviously showing opposing forces going towards each other, also form a "not equal" sign when they meet the red (or rouge if you prefer). I thought this was a good way to show that either the forward or the goalie is going to win the battle. The ballerina was inspired by a quote I heard from a Mr. Al Arbour about how he feels about "cute" players.

So yeah. Leave me feedback. I'll be back with a real post possibly maybe tomorrow.

Why the wait for Mats Sundin drags on...

Hey, it's Shultzie. Or Hammer. Whatever you wanna call me. I have a little site called I Mean, We Got Guys... In addition I signed on to post here and have been horribly neglectful. Then I was watching tonight's episode of Top Chef on Bravo and chatting with Wrap. I said how much I think Stephan is an ass. She says "he looks like Mats Sundin." Lo and behold, inspiration to throw something together to show that I'm not just a coat rack around here.

I present to you Top Chef Mats Sundin!!





Glove tap to Wrap for the inspiration.

Monday, December 8, 2008

Awkward....

Here’s the transcript of Sean Avery’s apology phone call to Elisha Cuthbert. First, I sent it to Wrap Around Curl and Jared of London so they could hilariously edit it for those with virgin ears. At the end I put the all-out dirty version. That’s one thing Sean Avery and I can agree on. He may be queen douche of the ice, but boy knows how to swear. Oh, and some helpful background information: Wrap and I are convinced that Sean Avery is gay.  In fact, we would love for him to be. When he bursts out of the closet and marries Anderson Cooper, she called it.


Sean Avery: So, uh, I wanted to say sorry for this little, well, thing, you may have heard about…

Elisha Cuthbert: Sloppy seconds, huh? Want to talk about sloppy seconds? Well Mr. Vogue ice girl, we're each other's sloppy seconds, and I have every reason to believe that when we were together you were messing around with dudes. How's that for sloppy?

A: Uhm, you best not be spreading that around because I don't know what the jello you're talking about.

C: Oh, you want to go there? Fine. I know what happens with you agitators after you step off the ice. You want to get under someone's skin, right? How about their parsnips? You think I haven't heard stories about you taking out your aggressions in Rockem Sockem Robots between periods?

A: You are so full of rainbows...I wouldn't even bake...

C: Yeah, yeah, you wouldn't even bake me a cake. I know. We all know.  Girls have a sense for these things. It's because you'd rather be baking 

A: Lies! I called you to fudging apologize. You were a last-season floozy before I met you! I taught you how to dress, sugarpie!

C: Want to explain the cotton Haynes boxers I found in your equipment bag? Huh, Sean? You know you wouldn't be caught dead in anything but silk designer boxer-briefs!

A: They were Jaromir Jagr's! They fell in there by accident! Who am I to talk back to a team captain?

C: And what about the sunglasses you wore to your little meeting with Gary Bettman? You look like Victoria Beckham's main gay! And six games, baby! Didn't you bake him a cake hard enough?

A: You flaming peach cobbler! Frogging apologizing! You go give Dion Phaneuf your infested Georgia O'Keefe! I'm hanging the ponies up!

C: I'll see you on the cover of People magazine! Soon enough they'll buy you out and you'll join the ranks of Lance Bass and Clay Aiken. Just give it time!

(Both hang up the phone angrily.)


Hide the children! It's the dirrrty version!


Sean Avery: So, uh, I wanted to say sorry for this little, well, thing, you may have heard about…

Elisha Cuthbert: Sloppy seconds, huh? Want to talk about sloppy seconds? Well Mr. Vogue whore, we’re eachother’s sloppy seconds, and I have every reason to believe that when we were together you were messing around with dudes. How’s that for sloppy?

A: Uhm, you best not be spreading that around because I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.

C: Oh, you want to go there? Fine. I know what happens with you agitators after you step off the ice. You want to get under someone’s skin, right? How about their pants? You think I haven’t heard stories about you taking out your aggressions in steamy locker room showers between periods?

A: You are so full of shit! I wouldn’t even cum in your...

C: Yeah, yeah, you wouldn’t even cum in my face. I know. We all know.  Girls have a sense for these things. It’s because you’d rather be cuming up some dude’s…

A: Lies! I called you to fucking apologize. You were a last-season tramp before I met you! I taught you how to dress, ho!

C: Want to explain the cotton Haynes boxers I found in your equipment bag? Huh, Sean? You know you wouldn’t be caught dead in anything but silk designer boxer-briefs!

A: They were Jaromir Jager’s! They fell in there by accident! Who am I to talk back to a team captain?

C: And what about the sunglasses you wore to your little meeting with Gary Bettman? You look like Victoria Bekham’s main gay! And six games, baby! Didn’t you beat him off hard enough?

A: You fucking cunt! Fuck apologizing! You go give Dion Phaneuf your infested cooch! I’m hanging the fuck up!

C: I’ll see you on the cover of People magazine! Soon enough they’ll buy you out and you’ll join the ranks of Lance Bass and Clay Akin. Just give it time!

 

(Both hang up the phone angrily.)

Thursday, December 4, 2008

fashionisto.



Ahwwwwwww. Cheer up, buttercup! I made you look happy.

Did you borrow those sunglasses from Victoria Beckham? The suit? Very Daniel Craig Bond. Approve.

Tuesday, December 2, 2008

fake boyfriends.


Sean, Sean, Sean? What am I going to do with you? You must be acting out because you feel inadequate. I will admit, your statement was pretty much the most hilarious thing ever. Let's face it, Cuthbert has been around the block. She's just a blond Milano. Whatever, I can't stay mad at you, babycakes. So why don't you come over tonight since you won't be playing... And we can kill this bottle of gin and get smashed while pretending to watch The Devil Wears Prada. You can say, "Oh Anna was never that icy" or "Anna never threw her jacket at me," and then we can forget the movie and just make out.

(photo: Bruce Bennett/Getty Images)

Monday, December 1, 2008

A Crosby Celebration

Here’s a detailed account of what I’m sure transpired after Sidney Crosby’s hat trick against the Jersey Devils. And now that my top three centers have all had hat tricks, this is the last one of these that you’re going to see for quite a while. I'm done, I promise. I just had to post the sequel. Why no Malkin story? I’ll write him a hat trick story the day he decides to learn English. Yeah, I’m pulling the bitch card on that one. 

 

CAST:
Sidney Crosby: Man of the night, knocked three goals home with that nice, straight sitck of his.
Jordan Staal: Is currently in a bet with Godard to see who can get Sid to say “fuck” in an interview.
Eric Godard: Gets to be in everything I write because of hockeyboyfriend privileges.
Max Talbot: Enjoys listening to his own French accent. Considers it part of his “chick bait”

 

Talbot: (to Sid) Heyyyy nice job tonight!

Staal: Yeah, looks like you just got a Jordan Staal!

Sid: Uh, you mean hat trick? Anyway, it looks like we’re in for a night on the town!

Godard: Oh shit… please no trannys…

Sid: no, I have something even better then trannys. There’s something special going on tonight and I juuuust happen to have four tickets…

 

Godard: Boxing championship!

Staal: New strip club opening night!

Talbot Glow in the dark bowling!

Lori: OMG The symphony!  (oops, sorry, I’m so not supposed to be in this)

Sid: No, sillies, even better! Cirque du Soleil! ONE NIGHT ONLY!!

(Collective groan)

Godard: Aawwwhh, man, seriously?!

Sid: Common, you guys! It’s the fine arts! Have some class! Talbot, you like French things, right? French wine, French kisses for Fu Manchu caught on camera and posted on the internet?

Talbot: Hey, I mean…

Godard: No. Just no. There are only so many times I can watch the clown slowly bend over and fuck himself. 

Sid: Uhmmm… you have three career goals. I had just had three in one night. We’re fucking going.

Staal: Teehee, you just said “fuck”

Sid: Shut-up.


(At Cirque du Soleil)

Sid: Am I great or what? Front row! You know, I’m good at smoozing the old ladies at the box office. The over thirty crowd loves me. It’s only a little creepy…

 

(The lights dim, ethereal music begins (Philip Glass, anyone?) and clowns in white leotards begin to mime across the stage) 

 

Godard: (gets up) That’s it… there has to be a bar.

Staal (jumps out of seat) I’m coming!

Sid: Wait! I want cotton candy. One of each color. Wow, those clowns are so supple...

Staal: No fucking way. There’s not enough liquor in the world to get me through this and that’s where I’m spending my money.

Godard: What am I? Your fucking date?

Sid: Hey, it’s my big night!

Godard: Big deal, you pull hat tricks out of your ass.

Sid: But…

Staal FEMALE CONTORTIONISTS!!!!!!!!

(All the boys stop what they’re doing and stare in awe.)

Collective: Oooooooooooooh

(Contortionists exit stage)

Staal: New mission! (starts running towards stage door)

Godard: Hey! Wait for me!

Talbot: Omg, we can make them our ice girls! Other teams won’t know what hit them!

Sid: Oooh, I want one….

 

Flash forward: Mario Lemieux’s house, next morning. Lemieux walks by Sidney’s room, hears noises, stops to listen.

Lemieux: Sid?

Lemieux opens door, is taken aback, and promptly shuts it. While walking away, he mutters under his breath, “Woah. Now that’s impressive…”

 

THE END