Video! Falcons 11/23/08 @ Lowell!

Below I'll share Oilers prospect Geoff Paukovich vs. Matt Corrente of the Lowell Devils, filmed by yours truly at the game I attended on a recent trip to Massachusetts. I'm sifting through the rest of the photos and video I took for future posts, but in the meanwhile, enjoy this spectacular fight-ending pratfall, truly worthy of Buster Keaton.



(Youtube has graciously fuzzed up my video quality--I'll seek a way of avoiding this if possible for future video content.)

NESN

I don't know what the feed is in Edmonton, but on Center Ice tonight it's NESN, my hometown station. NESN always acts a bit discombobulated, transitioning from baseball to other seasons, (the spot they just ran, "Red Sox baseball on NESN, is brought to you by..." would be a good case in point) but their hockey crew love hockey. So far tonight they're in delighted awe with the Rexall ice, and at the end of the 4:22 without stoppage of play, they went to the ad with "And we actually get PAID for this! AMAZING!"

And with a game like this one so far, it's hard not to love hockey.

The Oilers will never win any games ever again.

I think the only logical conclusion to draw from the last few days is that the Oilers, after their undefeated start, have in fact gotten in all their wins for the season at the beginning, and all we have to look forward to now is one unbroken death spiral downwards.

Which is why I'm terribly angry that so many Oilers games are blacked-out on Center Ice this year, because I want to witness this historic season in its epic entirety.

GOilers!

Oilers v. Blackhawks

Long ago, I used to live in Chicago. It's where I went to my first NHL game (in 2004). I asked my boyfriend (he was hoping the Blackhawks would somehow overpower the Ducks to improve Edmonton's playoff hopes) if the hockey players usually fell down so much while skating. Sadly for Edmonton's hopes, the answer was "not usually." The Blackhawks fans seemed to be (understandably) drowning their sorrows in beer, which led to the wonderful moment when the song from "That 70s Show" blaring from the loudspeakers prompted ragged shouting of "Hello Wisconsin!" from the section next to us.

The following season ('05-'06), I saw the Oilers live for the first time (though I'd heard many games called by Rod Phillips), hosted by the Blackhawks, who weren't much better than they had been. I don't really remember the game (Oilers lost, thanks to Conklin?) per se, but I do remember how many Oilers jerseys were in the seats, and in particular, whilst waiting in line for nachos, a woman in an Oilers jersey got down on one knee on the concourse and proposed to her Blackhawks-jersey-clad boyfriend. He accepted. I teared up a bit and decided I could get into this hockey community thing.

So GOilers, but I will always have a soft spot in my heart for the City of Chicago, where among many other wonderful experiences, I learned to love them and their fans.

And it gets away...

Even homemade falafel for dinner can't dull the pain of missing the World Series by three runs.

72 hours to regroup, and then on to Oilers vs. Blackhawks, I guess.

In the meanwhile, more wine.

Distractions: Oilers v. Falmes

The NHL Center Ice feed tonight is Calgary, alas. I was not familiar with their tv guys, and their play-by-play guy, Peter Loubardias, sounds eerily and distractingly like Henchman 24 from Venture Brothers.



If you don't watch this show you should. (First two seasons are on DVD!)

Also, the Buffalo game seems to be getting called by the captain from Sealab 2021. Perhaps I am watching too much Cartoon Network.

Shaky start by Deslauriers, but everybody has to have their first game in the Show sometime, and he shored up well. I enjoyed seeing him vs. Lowell in January, and I think he has potential. I'll be at another Falcons game Nov. 23, and I can't wait.

Married to the Oil Enters its Semaphore Slump!*

Yes, it's true, scandalously true. Marriedtotheoil has been having a tawdry affair. Oh goodness no, not cheating on her Alberta guy, but rather being less than faithful to all things Oil because of that glittering hussy of a baseball team, the Boston Red Sox and the crazy fan dance of a playoff run they've been doing all summer. Married's eyes strayed away from the oilogosphere, and rested comfortably on Jason Bay, Dustin Pedroia, Kevin Youkilis, and David Ortiz.

SO Married's a little late to the season-opening party. (Thankfully, the MLB scheduling is allowing her to continue to two-time, as the Divisional Series against Tampa was Friday-Saturday, Monday-Tues, TBA. Afternoon game at Fenway today!)

It was glorious to settle in on the couch last night in my number 10 jersey with a slice of pumpkin pie and finally watch some freakin' hockey! It was 90F and humid here yesterday, but that couldn't stop the Fall mood and the giddy squealing as "my 2008 Oilers" came down the tunnel and out to the ice.

The game? Well, we won, right, so I'm willing to chalk up some appalling hockey to opening-night jitters. Once. As for the vintage jerseys? Maybe I'm getting old (okay, not maybe) but I found it strangely difficult to read anyone's number.

Overall, I would rate still rate the beginning of the season as Crosby.




*(for more on ths topic, see Battle of Alberta)

Quick, get out your rulers and predict some '08-'09 penalty minutes!

According to this story on MSNBC:

Canadian scientists investigated photos of pro and varsity hockey players, measuring how wide and long their faces were. They found the wider that faces looked, the more aggressive players were, as measured by the number of penalty minutes they accrued, which are handed out for aggressive behavior.

I have so many questions. And though comment almost seems superfluous, I do invite you to try anyway.

Too much upheaval makes marriedtotheoil's brain hurt

Well I'm clearly late to the "OMG KLowe!" party, but seriously, today has been an exhausting news cycle for this Oil and Bosox fan. An unusually productive day meant no internet for me, so it was an accomplishment not to destroy dinner in confusion as D tried to catch me up the news when he got home. Then, as I'm trying to make sense of that, I discover that apparently the Red Sox don't want to go to the playoffs this year after all, as they have traded three players, including MANNY RAMIREZ for some dude named Jason Bay.

Thanks to hockey and graduate school snatching a fair chunk of my time, I'm not quite as obsessively detailed in my knowledge of the MLB as I used to be, but I seriously have no idea who this guy is. Something makes me doubt he's a functional replacement for Manny Ramirez, even if he's statistically likely to bring less drama and distraction.

I'm too tired to post-mortem this yet, but I am fascinated that as it frequently seems to happen, there is an Oilers connection, beyond both teams having a high-turmoil day. According to Boston.com, this Bay guy is good buddies with "fellow Trail native and Edmonton Oilers center Shawn Horcoff".

This is really all that's keeping me from sniffling softly into my peanuts and crackerjack right now.

I need a giant Oilers flag...

to go with the giant Red Sox flag I just unpacked from a box of baseball memorabilia I retrieved from my parents' soon to be ex-house. Then we can have a both delightfully tasteless and mystifying balcony display here in Austin come October.



Any thoughts on the best place for me to buy such a thing online or in person the next time I'm in town?

And in the subtracting sports memoribilia category: Posting baseball cards on Beckett.com for sale is easy and relatively efficient, but the size of the task is still daunting. I seem to have amassed something in the tens of thousands when I was in highschool. Posting 25 took the better part of an hour today. I may have to start mailing them out as prizes for quizzes on this site.

Um, anyone want to go out to dinner in Austin?

I hear it's skate around with your mouth open good... Maybe we'll go toast our returning players there.

Book Review: Ballad of the Whiskey Robber

This is a quite entertaining "True Crime" story with a healthy dose of hockey thrown in. It follows the 1990's exploits of a terrible hockey goalie/ terrible zamboni driver/ terrible (yet astonishingly lucky) bank robber. The prose gets a bit purple at times, but if you take it with a grain of salt and enjoy the wild ride provided by the narrative, it's easy enough to assume truth really is stranger than fiction. It's also an interesting look at a very strange moment in Hungary's (and indeed, all of Eastern Europe's) history, and prompts some sobering thoughts about the pro hockey circumstances in other countries that players were fleeing from to the NHL. More than anything, I couldn't put this book down and found myself laughing incredulously quite a bit, which made it a perfect vacation read. Highly recommended for the beach/airport.

It Starts

Where has marriedtotheoil been? Using her powers of telepathy to prompt the signing of Shawn Horcoff to a six-year deal? Well yes, of course, but I was also on an extended trip back to New England for some family matters, and for what turned out to be some hard-core sports nostalgia. As I receive the boxes full of souveneirs of fourteen years of Red Sox fandom that I packed up and shipped back here, I'll be sharing some of the highlights. Also on tap will be musings about the nature of New England sports culture, and of course Oilers Oilers Oilers.

Also, some of the finest youth hockey fiction of the pre-war era I have yet seen will be excerpted. So come back often. I swear the drought is over, and fun will abound frequently.

In the meanwhile, I'm going to enjoy my Maine beach tan and follow Lowetide's sterling example and get myself a beer.

Liveblogging the Awards Trainwreck

We decided to eat dinner with the NHL awards tonight, so I'm late to pulling out the laptop, but not to gaping in horror. I'll comment as I'm moved to.

Masterson: Cassie Campbell is an awesome athlete but her hair is terrifying. And Fernando should have gotten that one, I say quite objectively.

The feed from the CBC can't seem to bear to stay on for Craig Simpson. Also, I know Vs. is just running the CBC feed, but it sounds like the audio is coming from someone's TV across the border.

Lady Byng: As a female hockey fan, I'm allowed to say this award is weird, right? "Gentlemanly"? Also, the presenter's rambling anxiousness brings the mortifying awkwardness of this event to a WHOLE new level. Datsyuk looks unhappy to have to come up with more English, and downright spooked by the kid handing him the trophy. But he was a "gentleman," of course.

This "the face" feature is, um, well, um seriously, so hockey players have faces, I see. The cable feed cut out again in understandable pain, it seems.

D offered me a beer. YES! PLEASE!

Ovechkin definitely dressed himself. Everything about how his GIANT RED TIE is strangling his eveningwear is immensely pleasing to me. He looks embarrassed by the inane banter interval he's been dragged into. We all are, Alex, we all are.

Putting awesome female athletes in standard presenter eye-candy-evening-gowns is a disturbing experiment that I hope never to see repeated. Though to be fair, the men all appear to be wearing tuxes stolen from Don Cherry's lost "black" closet. Boudrieau is the only one so far who brought his own tux, so I suppose that's why he won the Jack Adams.

Seriously, Ron Maclean, you should know much, much better than to sniff anything you found in the pocket of your "borrowed" tux before going on. The manic standup persona does not suit you. To be fair, this is a horrible, horrible gig. I hope they paid you well.

D has just pointed out a terrifying program note: following this on Vs. is "Sidney Crosby Revealed."

Like, um, stripping? Pierre Maguire's secret videos? Aren't those admissible?

The look on Gordie Howe's face says, "I'm Gordie Howe. Why are you doing this to me? Well, I better class this place up. Sigh."

It pains me intensely to say this, but that is a fine tux Iginla is rocking. I also like that his message to the kids seems to be "go bother some other NHL players for autographs after the ceremony." Well spoken Jarome, well spoken.

Good eye, D! The kid presenting the Norris was wearing a jersey that said "Lindstrom". Um, wow. Can't you just get a Lidstrom jersey off the rack at the arena, or am I missing something?

True story: I think Brodeur and I have the same person who cuts our hair. Well, he couldn't remember which NJ player's hair he'd cut exactly, but we narrowed it down and it's likely Brodeur. True AND vague!

"CATERING PROVIDED BY BOSTON PIZZA?!" So this event was even WORSE for the attendees than it appeared?

Gordie Howe, I'm so, so sorry. Goodnight.

Odd

From the Globe and Mail today:

At the conclusion of the deciding game of the Stanley Cup final on Wednesday, Sidney Crosby's agent, Pat Brisson, huddled with Scott Moore, the head of CBC Sports, at Pittsburgh's Mellon Arena.

The subject was Hockey Night in Canada's coverage or - from the point of view of Brisson and others - the peculiar coverage of Crosby in the NHL final series.

The Pittsburgh Penguins' 20-year-old captain was largely ignored by Hockey Night host Ron MacLean and commentator Don Cherry, although MacLean did report on Wednesday before Game 6 that Crosby was the leading scorer of the playoffs. And Cherry aired a piece on Coach's Corner, the thrust of which was referees were allowing Crosby to be fouled because he was known as a diver in his rookie season.

I confess I'm a little flummoxed by this. On the one hand, I think everyone is sick of the "Crosby Crosby Crosby" narrative we've been force-fed all season long to the detriment of actual commentary in nationally televised games, but on the other hand, I was thinking that it largely died off after he came back from his injury and things seemed a bit more balanced. And he um, was playing quite well, and was, you know, the Captain of a team in the Stanley Cup Final. So talking about him does seem kinda maybe relevant? I didn't see the CBC coverage in question, since, Horcoff help me, I was stuck in Texas with NBC, VS. and Pierre McGuire (who seemed to goad Peter Sykora into scoring the winning goal in game 5, but more on that later.)

Anyway, because I didn't see it, I wouldn't try to comment in detail, but it both strikes me as odd that Crosby's agent got involved (maybe I'm naive but I doubt it was at Sid's urging) and as typical that Don Cherry would be such a gratuitous (and irrelevant) blowhard jerk.

Back, and (kind of) liveblogging Game One!

7:15p According to the Detroit Arena announcer, it is time for a ceremonial face-off with the captains, Nick Lidstrom and Steven Crosby.

STEVEN?! How do you get an arena job if you have apparently never before been exposed to the NHL?

7:19p I miss Georges!

7:35p In terms of playoff beards, Detroit is clearly way ahead. In terms of play, pleasingly matched so far. That Steven guy hasn't done anything amazing yet, but I retain high hopes. I'm also pleased that two such intense hockey towns got to the final--the shot of Pittsburgh fans filling their arena to watch on TV says we have some deserving fans this year.

7:49p Terrible call against Detroit--waving off that goal. If Holmstrom interfered with Fleury, I have too several times already this evening. I'm kinda slightly rooting for Pittsburgh, but I'd hate to see a call like this impact a game.

8:00p I highly approve the giant inflatable octopus in the rafters of Joe Louis Arena. At the end of the first period, I'm very excited overall about the series. This should be an excellent matchup over however many games, and I'm quite happy to give my holiday weekend over to the first two games.

I base my excitement/quality meter of a game on how much danger is posed to my rug by the beverage in my hand. There's been a lot of flailing with the wineglass this evening so far, and I blame it on how well both teams are focused on neutralizing the threats from the opposing bench. I've never seen it executed so consistently before and it truly pleases me.

8:05p Messier still doesn't know how to look into the camera when he speaks. it's endearing.

8:36p Bee-you-ti-ful goal Detroit! Best way to counter a lame call against. Good thing I'm drinking white and not red wine.

8:41p The Vs. announcers may have given away something key about themselves, describing Samuelsson's visiting father and brother from Sweden as "a couple of happy humans." Oh, those hue-mons. It is hard to predict what will make them happy.

8:46p D has observed astutely that Fleury is fighting hard to keep his team in this. I love young crazy goalies.

8:55p After two periods, though I have not kept entirely accurate count, I think I can estimate having seen approximately 400 ads for WEC Ultimate Cage Fighting. I'm your target demographic for that, Vs. Network? Really?

The Swedish players speak English in interviews with much better accents than I do. Then again, I do have the disadvantage of having been born in Boston.

9:05p Whoa... ad for what looks like a terrible new Mike Myers film that appears to be hockey-themed and featuring a pile of Daily Show correspondents and alums. Pity.

9:20p Crosby looks frustrated on the bench, like he expected things to be hard but not this hard. Detroit is playing tight sharp hockey, and not to flog the lamest of cliches, but the fans are the biggest winners tonight.

9:46p Well, this one is over. I admire and fear the Redwings. It's okay, Steve--Sid. There's always Monday.

Meanwhile, I have always enjoyed the silliness that is closed-captioning of hockey announcers when watching the game in bars (BP for example), since it's always garbled into some language even more fantastical than the usual nonsense the announcers spew. That said, these announcers tonight (suspiciously wowed by humans as they are) are one-upping things by speaking like closed-captioning.

"The Redwings don't want to allow him to guy to carry the puck to make plays"

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you your new robot hockey announcers.

Whoa-kay.

This kind of fandom? Crossing waaaaaaaaay over into the bad kind of crazy.

NASHUA, N.H. (AP) -- A woman accused of running down a man in her car after a Red Sox-Yankees argument in a bar never hit her brakes as she accelerated toward the small group he was in, a prosecutor said Monday.

"She never braked, and she accelerated at a high speed for about 200 feet. She went directly at this group of people," prosecutor Susan Morrell said of Ivonne Hernandez, who is charged with reckless second-degree murder in the death early Friday of Matthew Beaudoin, 29.

MarriedtotheOil has been on hiatus, due to pressing work and dental concerns. We hope to return to posting at least once a week throughout the offseason by next week. In the meantime, Go Pens. Crosby.

Yes, Crosby

Looks like an Ottawa writer's trying to start some business between the Pens and the Sens, suggesting they aim for his Crosbiness' ankle. Classy. However, genuinely classy is the reaction of the Pens. I say if this guy's so eager for somebody to get really hurt, why not offer himself up? It reminds me of those "you'd never make it in the NHL" ads they ran last year. Yeesh.

Goilers and goodnight

I'm out of town tonight for work reasons and won't be seeing the last game for the year. Sad.

It's been a long, hard year, with some devastating losses and some exhilarating wins. What I love about this team was really driven home to me Tuesday night, and brought some genuine joy on an otherwise heartrending evening.

We dressed out in our Oilers jerseys and settled in with pasta and wine in front of the tv. Eternally pessimistic, I suspected what might be coming but wanted to believe in the possibility of happy outcomes at least. MLB Extra innings, (which I had been debating subscribing to) was in a free preview on nearby channels to the Oilers feed, and I was flipping back and forth to the Red Sox game during the intermissions and commercial breaks.

I'd watched the Red Sox/A's opening series in Japan, and was bothered by my lack of emotional engagement with the team/games. I like all the guys on the club, and it was fun to watch them win the World Series last year, but there was something about the fawning of the announcers over the team and the way it seemed assumed the Sox would be winning most of their games this year that left an off taste in my mouth. And tonight was no different. I'd watch an out or two as the Sox kept utter control of the game, and then I'd go back to the Oilers almost with a sense of weird relief, even as they made me cry a few times. There was no way to be as sure of what would happen with them as I felt with the Sox.

And then I realized that there really is such a thing as winning too much.

I always hated the Yankees and their fans (our Falmes analogs all the way) for the bizarre sense of entitlement they projected. During the late 90's it was pretty unbearable. It was assumed the team was going to the World Series every year and anything short of that was complained about bitterly by fans and press alike, like something had been stolen from them. How dare other teams take away their rightful glory! I cheered for the late 90's Red Sox like crazy and hoped for every sign of Yankees collapse and hubris coming due. The 2004 World Series seemed like a dream come true (since 1918, people!) and last year's win was exhilarating too. But with two WS under our belts in four years, I'm a little worried that Red Sox Nation is becoming a little too... entitled. We expect a winning team every year now, and gotten accustomed and even a bit inured to consistent excellence.

This year's Oilers were anything but consistent except in one category: fun. They have been consistently fun, and it's been a pleasure and a privilege to watch a fine crop of rookies mature over their first NHL season. They've broken my heart more times than I can count, but I've watched every game in total suspense and often incredulity.

I'm not getting MLB Extra Innings this year. I'm sure the Sox will have a great season and I'll enjoy a lot of games on ESPN but whatever they do, I doubt they'll surprise me. It's not their fault: it's a structural thing.

The Oilers were not always good this year, but they kept it interesting. Thanks boys, for a year full of surprises. And I bet your Moms are proud.


(I will be posting at least once a week during the off-season, with a few surprises of my own.)

Flashback: Stortini vs. Sarich

Because I need a good laugh today and maybe you do too.

The problem with my NHL/MLB teams is...

...that this time of year I can get walloped with a double let-down in twelve hours as easy as that.

It got me thinking about the cycle of the seasons though. There's something about difficult losses that feels just that much worse at the beginning or end of a season. The middle is when all might still be possible, even more so than the beginning, because at least in the middle you've settled in with the team, you know them, and you can tell yourself wonderfully convincing stories about how they'll bounce back tomorrow. At the beginning of the year, early catastrophe can seem like a portent of the season to come, quite irrationally.

And at the end, late catastrophes leave almost no wiggle room for hope. Almost.

Opening Day or more of the same?

I settled in today to watch the Red Sox/A's season opener from Japan on ESPN, and discovered I'm rusty on watching baseball. I'm timing trips for coffee and meals badly, and having trouble keeping track of outs. Thanks, hockey.

But before I succumbed to any level of disorientation, it became surprisingly easy to regain my bearings. After all, the announcers kept going on and on about some player named Crosby, and the game couldn't be decided in a regulation frame.

Now this, I know.

Goilers, GoSox.

Fasten your seat belts

I've been giving it a lot of thought, and I'm not sure if the Oil will kill me or make me stronger. Maybe it will be a wash. My blood pressure and anxiety, I'm certain have gone up. But I've had so much nervous energy I've taken up running again. My beer consumption has also gone up. But my nervous eating is causing me to nosh a lot more fruit and veggie pieces during games.

I have a tupper full of red and green veggies and fruit for tonight, so I will be consuming my enemy symbolically.

Let's hope the NHL's youngest Sam Gagner, Sweatercoat, Dyle, and the rest of the boys can beat the Minnesota Christmas Elves with more calm than I think I'll be capable of all day. I'm toying with liveblogging, but that might interfere with beer.

Steve Holt!

I've never been a Phaneuf fan and tend to assume the worst of him, but this was hilariously unexpected. You tell me: at about 0:59 of this clip (sorry about the quality, best I could find) of last night's short-handed goal, is he pulling a Steve Holt and shouting "Phaneuf!"?




I say yes.

Is this a parody? I can't tell.

This is either a brilliant parody of Crosby-mania, or um, wow.



Make no mistake, I'm not bashing The Kid. Despite having every reason to have malfunctioned impressively by now (youth, fame, money, fawning attention beyond Pierre Macguire) he seems to have kept a solid head on his shoulders. I'm just sad the Cult of Crosby is distracting from the simple joy of watching a really talented kid play.

I leave for ten days and what happens?

Shamefully and miserably, I have been utterly absent from the Oilogosphere for ten days: no reading, posting, or commenting, and given what's been going down in those last ten days I have no hope of catching up, other than tipping my cap to Stan Weir and his prolific friend lowetide.

Have I been hiding under the couch, unable even to watch or think about the deranged playoff hopes of our hockey daycare club? Well, yes, mentally, but I have been watching games, and screaming and crying, and despite my femaleness, cursing like a sailor fairly continuously. All other waking hours, I had a very poorly timed dissertation deadline to meet and had to go actually do the writing I was supposed to be doing .

But um, how about dem Oilers? They seem pretty determined to kill us with hope, no?

Also, screw having Hemsky or Pisani's lovechild. I want to surrogate for theirs.

I'll say it: The Kids are Alright

The last couple games have been of the sort that were fun to watch and hard to blog. They weren't snarkable or moan-able catastrophes, nor were they masterpieces of inspirational puck-handling wonderment either. They were what they were: a bunch of kids working really hard, making mistakes, and recovering well, and I feel better about the longterm prospects of this team than I have in quite awhile. Cogliano is looking sharper than he has all season, and everyone looked like they're actually having fun--which I suspect is a key to success for this team. We'll see what tonight brings, but I'm feeling optimistic that I won't be hiding my face in the sofa cushions for more than 40% of our remaining games. Which is downright awesome compared to quite recently.

There has to be a silver lining somewhere

Well, we were pwned last night.

You know a game isn't going well when the announcers keep saying desperately cheerily, like promising a treat to a kid after he gets stitches, "And now we go downstairs to Gene Principe!" (And how it rapidly became clear Gagner was both the first and last active player interview he'd get that night.)

It's also ominous that opposing players seem to be starting to find Stortini as comical as I do. He was having a hard time getting his fight invites taken seriously last night, methinks.

However, in the midst of the trainwreck that was last night, let us remember that it was fantastic to see Shawn Horcoff come in and give an interview in good spirits and great optimism about his shoulder. His prognosis seemed to amount to "better than ever" and I'll sure take that.

Gee, Thanks.

(Go ahead and click the image for high-resolution misery if you must)

Behold the cover of the shopNHL.com catalog that landed in our mailbox yesterday. The soft Northern light, the disconsolate, warmly-clad youth, staring hollowly across the ice, haunted by a giant spectral Anaheim doofus--who shall not be named--brandishing a Cup mockingly.

This could be taking place almost anywhere in NHL-land, right?

Sidney CROSBY is playing RIGHT NOW!

Oh and some kid, Sam Gagner, friend of Dyle Bridziak, won NHL Rookie of the Month.

The Edmonton Oilers, who are not the Pittsburgh Penguins, are playing Nashville (Also not Pittsburgh) tonight.

But I think we can agree the real story tonight is Crosby. The Tampa broadcasters are breathless as they incant Crosby over and over again. And again. Say it with me. Crosby. There he is. Doesn't that just feel better? Oh yeah.

All snark aside, welcome back sincerely, Sid the Kid. Glad to see the leg looks pretty sound. Stay away from Pierre Mcguire. And maybe the rest of the sports media.

Things no one knew

Welcome to the Oilers' newest player, Dyle Bridziak. Mr. Bridziak did not play so awesome tonight, but thankfully that was not necessary for our exciting overtime win. The Oilers will never be boring, I suppose. Just ask Sam " ref killer" Gagner.

Flu night in Texas meets Hockey Night in Canada

Not a long post, as I've been down for the count with the flu since Wednesday* so I'm totally out of the loop--though I was quite happy to hear that the win I thought I saw Thurs night wasn't just part of my fever--but I wanted to share three things.

1.) Alert reader Abby sent me a link to deadspin's snuff pictures of the Penguins' zamboni from last Saturday, which is more impressive carnage than I would have imagined (though still NOT an explosion, I hasten to remind you).

2.) The same Penguins' announcers who last week claimed Crosby was powered by some sort of internal motor, today declared hockey to be "The fastest non-motorized team sport in the world." Is this because his Crosbiness is still out?

3.) Even with my total flu deafness and a fog of various medications, I can still tell Don Cherry is yelling, and oh, how I wish he would stop.



*I know I'm doing poorly when I can't even read my way around the Oilogosphere from my sickbed...

What does Crosby have to do with the trade deadline?

Well, um, nothing that I can figure out, but you wouldn't get that impression here. I like that his name appears only under the picture of CROSBY! and in the fine print at the bottom about NHL network being where you can find CROSBY! This sort of reminds me of tone-deaf automated google ads one gets when one runs a search...

Oh Captain, My Captain*

Falcons @ Lowell, 1/11/08

I've figured it out. The Oilers must have one giant setback for every tiny step forward. Shame on you, KLowe, for brokering such a raw deal with the hockey gods.

My husband at least waited until I'd poured myself a cup of coffee this morning before telling me "Moreau's out for the season."

"Of course he is," said I. It barely mattered how. Ankle, shoulder, kidnapped by gnomes--we're still left with an active roster whose average age is now down to 26.25. (If we traded Roli, we'd be down to 25.63 as the average team age.)

I won't even try to pretend at guessing what will happen come the deadline. I think the rest of the season's going to be pretty rough, but the Oilers have been specializing in saving their wins for the more implausible games this year, and at this point all the games are looking more implausible by the minute, so maybe there are few more beauties in store. We can only hope. In the meanwhile, heal up fast Captain.


*So I was an English Lit B.A. What do you want from me?

We... ...won... ...hockey?

...was all I could come up with before the disturbingly porn-y music they always cut to as they shut down the Center Ice feed.


In other news, via Spector's Hockey:

"Garrioch believes Murray might make that swap if the Thrashers added rugged and affordable blueliner Garnet Exelby into the deal."

You might remember my previous claims about Exelby's origins flat-packed at Ikea? I see nothing here but support for them.

Breaking--Zamboni explosion?!

I just tuned into the Penguins/Sharks game, which is only just now starting, 30 mins late, because of what the announcers are casually referring to as "the zamboni explosion at center ice." I can't find anything about this on TSN.com or NHL.com.

My brain hurts.

UPDATE: In the meanwhile, footage of a zamboni fire, also in Pennsylvania, from December. I call that suspicious.

UPDATE 2: Now they are backtracking and calling it "the zamboni breaking down at center ice". Breaking down is most sincerely not the same thing as exploding. For example, the latter usually involves a loud bang. Which is it, people?

(Also, apparently Sidney Crosby is powered by some sort of perpetual motor, according to these same announcers, but how can I believe anything they say now?)

SIDENOTE: Googling "zamboni explosion" comes up with an alarmingly high number of hits.

FINAL UPDATE: Well, according to the Canadian Press, the zamboni slid out to center ice, leaked a whole bunch of transmission fluid, and then they had to clean up the mess. What a rip. I guess Crosby deprivation has made the announcers light-headed and prone to hallucinations. Just ask Evgeny "Not Crosby" Malkin.

Quickie

Falcons @ Lowell 1/11/08

1.) According to an alarming section of NHL.com I hadn't previously noticed ("NHL Lifestyles"?!) Big Georges is a fan of yoga. As is Shawn Horcoff. Imagining Big Georges doing a sun salutation puts a big stupid grin on my face.

2.) Jezebel.com featured a picture yesterday of Rachel Hunter leaving Big Lots! discount store with an entire shopping cart of cleaning supplies and a rather sour look on her face. Jarret, what did you do to her kitchen?

3.) Edmonton is playing Dallas tomorrow. I know that if this last week hadn't been so awful hockey-wise, I would totally be scheming for a roadtrip and a night in Dallas (It can't be that bad a place? Plausibly?) as our weekend plan, but all I can summon is a vague curiosity as to how we'll lose this one. Ugh. Perhaps when my Horcoff jersey arrives (I can't be the only one seduced by that evil 1-day sale on NHL.com, surely?) I'll feel a renewed optimism. We can only hope.

In no particular order...

1.) Scott Howson may be the GM of Columbus, but he sure is working the crazy eyes.

2.) Zednik's young daughter was in the hospital in Florida with a fever the day he got hurt. Thankfully the whole family is home and safe now. He's giving his first public comments today.

3.) Speaking of family stuff, if not news per se, (more "olds", really) this video of Shawn Horcoff sledding with his kids makes it easier to remember why I love this team. Don't worry, Shawn, I'm married and not particularly stalk-y, I promise.

4.) The Nashville feed for the game last night hit new lows of competence in my NHL viewing experience. Either that, or the Predators can't afford to light the arena properly. Though even that wouldn't explain the general ignorance/homophobia/ethnic stereotyping issues the announcers were having.

5.) Apparently when the cable feed dies on a US Center Ice game, you get a test screen and the radio feed.

6.) Sidney Crosby skated yesterday. Crosby. Crosby! CROSBY! Crosby did not speak to the media after skating in something that was not the game or an actual practice. How could he deprive the Crosby media of his Crosbiness after such a huge event? Thankfully there was blurry footage of him skating around holding a stick, for us to analyze in depth and base our upcoming life decisions off of.

7.) pazzoni. n. pl. -ies. 1.) A North-American Italian food item, consisting of dough stuffed with a pound of cheese and ground beef, frequently offered by street vendors. Thank goodness there are so many pazzoni vendors on Whyte, because I had too many Stortinis at that bar and needed something greasy to soak them up. 2.) The willful mispronunciation of Oilers' #34 by idiots in TN.

The polls are open!

From L-R: O'Marra, Stephane Goulet (16) , Theo Peckham (24), Devan Dubnyk,
J-F Jacques (26),Colin McDonald? (18?), Rick Berry (5?), and Marc Pouliot (29) @ Lowell 1/11/08

New question, new poll: which of these fine young Falcons will still be in dark blue come February 27? Applies to the big team too. I've never been much of a trade deadline junkie (Being a Red Sox fan during the Duquette GM years made me learn to fear reflexively the random things that could happen late summer) but the Oilers are in a bit of a weird position this year and I confess I'm curious to see what happens. Vote your hopes and fears to the right column, and/or speculate wildly in the comments.

The polls are closed

Devan Dubnyk and Ryan O'Marra, 1/11/08

Thank you to the fourteen people who told me to keep going with this blog, and to all those who have commented here in my first month! Here's hoping the Oil give us all lots (of good) to talk about in the month to come...

Goilers.

Roy

We saw the Springfield Falcons @Lowell, 1/11/08, and I've just managed to start going through the photos I took. This seemed like a nice place to begin.

Sedins 2, Vancouver W, my patience 0

Last night, I settled in with my husband, a fine Valentines-y dinner, a great bottle of Zin, and a WWE wrestling match on ice skates.

I was not amused. If it were up to me, I would have awarded the Sedins the 2 points, and told neither club they deserved to win.

I know the Sedins catch a lot of flack for being "soft". They made it look real good last night. They are very consistent in the way they body block, drag teammates out of frays, and don't throw punches, and maybe that's not everyone's favorite NHL style, but I respect their choice of style in a season that's been filled with plays around the NHL where I seriously wonder how some of these guys can go home to their families feeling proud of their actions today. Until the refs get some teeth into enforcing the rules as they need to be, play will procede at the highest level of goonishness allowed to goons, and by everyone else in self-defense. And I don't like it. I hesitated about picking this as my topic today, what with the "girl blogger" thing and all, but I'm just still utterly disgusted with last night's circus. I love the physicality and intensity of hockey, but it's on the bargain that I get to enjoy it because I'm not really endorsing psychopathic behaviour.

I'll stay brief here about what bothered me last night. The truly atrocious behaviour was absolutely instigated by Vancouver. I particularly detest Ritchie, Cook, and Burrows. That said, our guys did not acquit themselves entirely without blame and I got pretty mad when Reasoner shoved Henrik Sedin to the ice when Henrik was just standing there--it's not like you can claim pre-emptive on that player with a straight face, it seems to me. I'm not saying Reasoner was outside his rights to scrap with Vancouver, but his choice of target and force disappointed me.

Clearly, emotions were running high on both sides and understandably so, etc, but both sides were lucky nobody got seriously hurt in three periods of constant fighting, and a not-so-small part of me wishes the refs, coaches, veterans, and captains could have stepped up and reined things in so we could have an actual hockey game instead of a three-ring circus.

Zednik

Well, I was all set to write something flippant tonight on how I shouldn’t ever look forward to hockey games because that’s just asking for trouble, but today’s accident in Buffalo has put all levity out of my mind and also puts the Oilers’ woes in stark perspective for me.

We have far too many injured players, and it absolutely sucks, but at least we have so far been spared those heart-stopping moments when a player leaves the ice with an injury that calls a young man’s entire future into question rather than just his team’s prospects without him for the next few weeks. I’ve still not forgotten the Patrice Bergeron hit from earlier this year, and my stomach churned so much just reading about today’s incident I’m somewhat grateful I didn’t happen to see it live. My heart goes out to Zednik and his wife, and I hope he makes a swift and total recovery. I also really feel for Jokinen, who is blameless but still must be terribly shaken up. I love this game so, and I wish it didn’t ever have to be so dangerous for those who play it.

Oilers 5, Falmes 0. Um... yes.

Can we just watch this over and over?



Well, I don't know about you, but after watching last night's blowout, I would love to have been there to see what went down in the locker room before the game. Motivational speeches to underdogs = dime/dozen. Whatever got those results = freaky supernatural.

Some highlights beyond those fab goals:

1.)Ales Hemsky's bee-you-ti-ful skating/puck handling.

2.)Zack a.k.a. "What's in a...?" a.k.a. "Huggy Bear" Stortini's big tangle in the second. I'm coming round to this guy, I'm embarrassed to admit. After all, this fight gave us a huge emotional/momentum boost, and was hillariously bizarre to watch, so I really can't complain. From the initial Stortini EmbraceTM to the mutual attempts give each other hickeys on the neck, to the passionate grappling followed by the inevitable Sarich arm getting free and Zack taking his punches, this had an unearthly and beautiful flow to it, and I have not enjoyed a hockey fight this much in a long time. The six dozen or so others that followed later in the game were just icing.

Or we could go with the Oilers.com account:

"Several minutes later, Zack Stortini and Cory Sarich dropped the gloves in a bout that lasted well over a minute but neither combatant had the edge over the other."

Kind of misses the point, I think. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm seriously looking forward to Saturday.

Seriously, I think I might cry

I didn't think I could be any more depressed about the Oilers right now. But surely playing Calgary tonight will cheer us all up, right?

Um, yeah.

In my impromptu week-in-review (my "real" life has recently been keeping me too busy to post daily), here are the things that stand out for me:

1.) It appears Katz is finally buying the Oilers, yes? Or no? With the Writer's Strike grinding on, maybe we can make the negotiations into some mind-numbing reality viewing? No? Thank goodness. I feel woefully unable to comment much meaningfully on this as a non-local, so I'll leave it at the stating the obvious.

2.) Horc's shoulder injury sucks.

3.) We traded our only Swedish player, as Garnet predicted. This prevented a dangerous build-up of defensemen on our roster. (wipes brow)

4.) What pagan god did MacT and KLowe offend to provoke this season's injuries?!

5.) Did you know Henrik Lundqvist of the Rangers has a twin? Neither did I. Now what?

6.) I enjoyed the clip they kept showing over the weekend of Giguere freaking out in the box and kicking things, while Porn-stache Parros looked on stolidly. At least we can still take entertainment from someone else's woes.

7.) Did I mention that with Horc out, we are utterly up the creek without a paddle?

Pitchers and catchers report in 11 days, 17 hours.

Not a moment too soon...

The Vs. announcers are apparently in a drought

Argh, argh, triple argh. (expanded from earlier posts today)


I am not one of those fans who is automatically baying for blood whenever my team loses, but dude, we suck these days and it is depressing and terrible to watch and I am finally losing patience. I'm watching Canucks vs. Dallas right now to try and get the nasty taste out of my mouth. Was Horcoff saved from the zombies that came through and bit the whole roster by being out of town last weekend? Because he, Moreau, and intermittantly Pisani and Hemsky, were the only players who looked literally alive out there tonight.

Only compounding matters was the disturbing commentary by the Vs. team, featuring such quotes as "there are two bulls rutting at center ice" and "a buxom rebound off the pillows." I have to say, "buxom rebound" is not a phrase I ever want to hear again.

Moving on, the NHL is pushing its new promos online. Besides the expected array of Crosbiliciousness, and the requisite OMG the NHL has discovered the interwebs spots, there's this spot, which is clearly not new and which seems a little... weird... to me. Am I alone in this belief?



Let's review. Gretzky, Lemieux, and Howe appear to be terminally depressed robots who can open rifts in the space-time continuum to witness their past glories (well, the past glories of the humans they are replicating). The "current" players are straight out of some sort of awful horror movie framing, and I have to restrain the urge to shout "Run Robot Wayne, run!" when they start banging their sticks on the ice, because it is clear they are circling in for the kill. I'm surprised the NHL is feauturing such a shockingly Crosby-free promo on the site, (as their world is measured in B.C (Before Crosby) and the present era.) and also I think it may give me nightmares tonight, as if if tonight's game wouldn't have already.

(I swear the promised Falcons stuff is coming, I've just had a busy start to the week.)

Shinny Sedin-y Silliness

NHL.com has an amusing interview with Henrik Sedin here--worth a read.

I know tonight wasn't 'real' hockey, but it was awfully good fun I thought, and sadly, the way the Oilers have been going I needed to be reminded that hockey is fun and that's why I watch it. Legace and DiPietro were a real hoot mic'd, and it was delightful to see Nash (robbed of the MVP, IMHO) and Ovechkin having such a gleeful time with such pretty goals, not to mention the fabulously funny moment with Nabokov robbing Kovalchuk. I'd also like to point out that Horc always made his presence felt during his ice time and that's nothing to sneeze at.

Alyssa Milano embarrasses me and my gender, when it comes to sports. That is all.

Tomorrow I'll try to get up pictures and thoughts from a Springfield Falcons game I went to a few weeks ago. I would have put them up sooner but have been cursed with uncooperative camera batteries.

Horcoff has fun, is fast!

I think All-Star games, in the end, are about the need of everyone connected to hockey (or baseball, etc), be they players, fans, management, or media, to at least get to pretend that these ridiculously physically gifted multi-millionaires are at heart getting a kid's pleasure out of playing a kid's game. It's okay that they get so much attention and money and fun because they're showing that they understand how damn lucky they are to do so.

But you know, this ritual really works, and I have absolutely nothing against it. It was pure joy to see Shawn Horcoff in the skills competition tonight, getting the recognition that he so deserves. The fact that he won the speed event came second to the big grin on his face all evening, and the fact that every time the camera was on him, he seemed to be a fun teammate for everyone else too. As an Oilers fan, I'm proud of that. Gagner looked like he might faint or pop with excitement and that was sweet as well.

I love that my Eastern Conference (Flyers) fan college roommate was getting to see folks I babble about when we talk hockey over the phone or email (or texting tonight) play, be they my faves (Horc, H. Sedin), or objects of the spear (Phaneuf, Pronger). I enjoyed seeing Legace having a relaxed and silly time tonight, and getting my first sense of Ovechkin as someone with an individual personality. I've seen most of these guys in games before, but tonight was a chance to see them having fun with their peers, and catch of glimpse of them as people. In my professional/academic life, I study media theory, and though artificial and contrived "glimpses"of "private" selves of celebrities is a very interesting topic, I feel way more confident that I got a glimpse of DiPietro's "real" personality than I'd ever see of a movie star's. Maybe that's where star athletes are still separated out from the other celebrities, and I think it's because we're watching them at play.

Speaking of play and peers, I do have a disappointment so far with the (my first NHL) All-Star weekend. I'm unhappy that the league arbitrarily selected one Sedin and not the other (look at their stats, it's ridiculous!) when conceptually and practically, the two are a unit. That said, I'm looking forward to the game tomorrow night, and to getting to "know" some new (to me) players. I'm impressed they still managed to utter the word "Crosby" many times tonight, and will be keeping tally on that tomorrow.

Be Weary of the Kid Line: How I learned to stop worrying about Gene Principe and love the shootout

Dare I say it, tonight was Crosbylicious. Just as I was sinking into despair, neurotically fretting about why on Earth FSN Florida kept showing me Gene Principe in a cape, and wondering how that goal couldn't have counted in the review, the Oilers came back! Sure, it was to the shootout of course, but I have to say, Shawn Horcoff cannot be overrated in my eyes right now.

I'm impressed that the "Be Weary of the Kid Line" as a "key to the game" persisted throughout eight or so displays of that graphic for FSN. But maybe a lesson can be taken from this misspelling that it's time to be weary of discussing ad infinitum how the weight of the world rests on the kid line .

So beside Horc and Garon, what else did we do right tonight?

Goilers.

So K-Lowe, where's my AHL-fresh hockey players?

I've learned that complaining (politely, of course) works. After Tuesday's "soy sauce beer" debacle, I emailed the brewery and told them my sad story. Last night I got a lovely email back from them, apologizing and offering to send me "brewery-fresh" replacements. I sincerely could not be happier with this as a customer service experience. Support your local (or non-local) microbrewery! Feeling boosted by my success, I offer a modified version of my letter to them now addressed to Kevin Lowe in the hopes a similar response can be obtained:

Subject: Spoiled Oilers Game

Dear Mr. Lowe and EIG,
I've much enjoyed your hockey team after discovering them five years ago. I had a sad surprise on retuning home from a trip, to discover the remaining Oilers players left on my roster had spoiled and now played more like soy sauce than like my beloved NHL team. If you can alert me to any production codes on the players with which I was so frustrated Tuesday night, I will pass them along to you so you'll know which batch had this problem. If you can offer me some sort of recompense for this awful game, I'd be quite grateful, as I'm a poor grad student who watches less baseball than I might so I can have time for your usually premium stuff.
Best,
Married to the Oil

Goes together like... the Oilers and spoiled beer?

I think it was around the second goal, the one Rollie didn't even see, that D asked me if I wanted a beer. The answer was an emphatic yes, little knowing what kind of an Alanis Morrisette-style ironic was going to be served up with it. In a hockey game filled with spoiled chances, I discovered over the course of the next 30-odd minutes of play that I had come back from a lengthy holiday trip to a fridge stocked with spoiled microbrew, in a flourish straight out of indie-movie hell. One bottle after another was cracked open to discover it tasted like soy sauce, so I guess the Oilers metaphorically tasted like soy sauce too last night. To drag this awful comparison further, both the beer and my team were OK when I left for Alberta in December, but at some point for each I guess, something went terribly wrong even though, my bachelor's-in-English heart would like to add, both were kept well-chilled the entire time.

I'm done with that now. I promise.

I'm under the impression that NHL Center Ice is a better deal in the US than it is in Canada, in terms of pricing structure and what it includes. Maybe I'm totally wrong. But anyway, we get all of the Oilers PPV games, and I have to say I'm pretty glad we're not paying $13 each for them. From Gene Principe getting snubbed by the equipment guy (which I guess is at least some variation from his usual interview style of: Why is your team playing so badly? Uh huh. But, would you say that you're playing badly, and why?) to Rob Brown's constant and extremely disturbing leering at the camera and his broadcast partner, to the "my angry teenage kid did this on the computer!" style music they played with their interminable spinning logo or upcoming PPV games screen, one got the feeling that while one might be paying premium prices, one is not getting the A or even B broadcast team, so much as maybe the L team? The stuff with the little kids playing hockey was predictable filler, but undeniably cute. Disturbing however, was that Sam Gagner's mom did not look any older than the moms of the seven-year-olds in the featurettes. This supports my theory that Mr. Gagner cannot be older than 10, but I'm getting old and cranky, I know. Speaking of Mr. Gagner, what was up with that stupid poll on naming the line?

Beyond harping about PPV, what is there really to say about this game? They didn't play well enough to win. They made some stupid decisions. They tried, but it wasn't enough. I don't know how to fix them. I'll limit myself to this: I hope Moreau is okay--seeing that much blood on a jersey makes me highly distressed and gets me compensatorily chanting to myself, nothing bleeds more than a scalp or a lip, even if it's very superficial. What heart he played with--even after getting whacked like that--not leaving the ice until play stopped. For once the PPV team got something right, in saying "That's why he's the captain."

Heal up soon, Captain.

Crosby

The Crosby Crosbies will be Crosby-less for 6-8 Crosbies, and Crosby will miss the All-Crosby game on Crosby, according to Crosby.com.

This leaves the Crosby: Will we hear less about Crosby for those 6-8 weeks? Will normal verbs, nouns, and other adjectives be dusted off and brought back into usage, strange as they feel? Will the Edmonton Journal have to change its layout and no longer build an entire sport page around a daily Crosby picture?

Seriously, I wish Sid the Kid the best. He must be at least as bemused as I am by how obsessively he's discussed in the hockey sphere. He seems like a great guy with a good head on his shoulders, and I hope he has a speedy recovery during which no one is asking him to produce a soundbite every forty seconds, for once.

Oilers vs. Tampa tonight. Tampa is terrible right now. Is there any way we can win? This worries me.

Oilers win? WOOT!

Staring urgently at the young players actually works? Yeesh, I should have tried this weeks ago!

As you may have guessed from my Sedin post, and will see in the weeks to come, I'm a Swede-o-phile. Maybe it's that most of my furniture is from Ikea, that my favorite coffeeshop is in Chicago's Andersonville neighborhood, the constant stream of cheery techno/silly videos that ever seem to issue from that northern clime, or maybe it's just that I like my hockey with a little salmon and butterfat. Who knows.

In that vein, though, I need to comment on one Garnet Exelby of the NHL. Despite his supposed origin in Saskatchewan, does he, or does he not, have a name that indicates he came flat-packed from Ikea, with some assembly required? Does the goalie model ("Crossnet Exelby", I presume?) cost a bit more and require a different caliber allen key?

Sedin-y

I'm well aware the Oil is playing Atlanta right now, but through some annoying quirk the game doesn't seem to be available through our Center Ice. Booo-urns!

I'm listening to 630 CHED online, but don't really have anything pithy to say about the game yet, other than that I love the player names Rod invents in the heat of the moment and find myself wishing players with those names actually existed. Also, when I was a newbie and we listened to ALL the games online, I seriously thought, because of Rod's "inventiveness," that "loose puck" was Ulanov's nickname.

So with lack of high-level Oilers stimulation, I found myself looking at the NHL team sites, and became enveloped in hopeless giggles over the Canucks site. Take a look in the upper right hand corner, and you'll see what I like to think of as a beautiful synechdoche of dealing with the Canucks. It's a Sedin. A D. Sedin, to be specific, peeking eerily around the corner.

This leaves you with a thought process quite similar to playing Vancouver. Ack! It's a Sedin! So where's the other one? He has to be around here somewhere! How many of them are there, anyway?!

I have to admit, I really like the Sedins. They're weird in a fun way, be it their NHL ad last year, or just the persistent uncanniness of their presence and stats. I was very stoked when I found out that not only had my father-in-law gotten us Oilers tix for our visit but that they were vs. Vancouver to boot and I could see the weirdness in person. They did not disappoint, and the Oil actually won (in the shootout, natch) so it was great night altogether.

Listening while blogging has not disapointed either: Rod seemed to be saying that his sandwich has run out of pencils (?!) and has already had a bit of a tiff with Morley over how much was left on the clock and how Morley could possibly know it.

Penner SCORES!

Crosby.

Do "Brind'Amour" and "love" ever belong in the same sentence?*

*yes, I am a terrible, shallow, person, to judge another human--who undoubtedly has people who love him--on the basis of his mug. Losing makes me mean and I'm sorry.

I can't bring myself to say much about last night. It was the kind of game that makes a girl want to spend the day in her bathrobe and sulk. All I will say is that I was a bit disturbed by the propensity of the announcers to keep saying "You have to love... Brind'Amour..." etc. Do I? Really? Showing him in closeup, for long, long clips was not really helping that cause.

Let's talk about the future. Surely if we stare at these kids long enough and hard enough, they'll start playing like seasoned veterans, no?

Crosby.

Carolina? I spear you!

So I see we're playing Carolina tonight, thanks to my fabulous Rexall Place "Game Day" calendar I bought whilst we spent Christmas with the in-laws. (I hear one can also garner such information on the inter-webs, but I prefer this method, which allows me to look at a "candidly" posed Ethan Moreau while I do so.)

Effing Carolina and "Joe Camel" Brindamour. Even if he wasn't excessively unpleasant to look at, I'd have a grudge. We watched most of the 2006 playoffs with friends in Chicago (where we were living at the time) and totalled 2 transplanted Oilers fans, 1 newbie Oilers fan (me) and 2 transplanted Leafs fans (cheering for the Canadian team, natch) at our little gatherings. It was nice. Orange food, orange beer (well, bottle labels and caps anyway): we had a theme going. One of those themes was "spearing" the opposition with handy utensils, in symbolic effigy as it were. This is when I learned that women (myself included) are much louder, angrier, and more deranged hockey spectators in polite company than the men are. This did not displease me.

In the midst of the Cup final, my transplanted Oilers fan and I got married, and that evening, as we watched Game 6, I promised the hockey gods that if the Oilers won the Cup, I would show sufficient gratitude by finding an old-school MacT jersey and wearing it to our later wedding reception in Alberta instead of any kind of "dress".

So I blame Carolina for my just about freezing my rear off in a stupid sundress out near St. Paul that August.

12 rounds of shootout and all I got was this stupid blog?

In the end, I'm not sure what annoys me more tonight: That we found a way to make the inevitable shootout even more grueling than usual, or the voice of the Caps color guy. Seriously, they thought he was the right type for the broadcasting biz?

And so begins my tentative contribution to the Oilogosphere I've been enjoying as a lurker.