I am mere hours from stepping into one of the more storied hockey venues in the world as I will be in attendance to see the Blackhawks visit the Red Wings this evening. As far as hockey arenas go, this is one of the ones I'm really most excited for given its relative age, tenant and history. The Red Wings have been among the most well-run franchises in professional sports for the last 20 years and tonight I will get to see, firsthand, one of the more unique arenas in the League.
This will be a fun and appropriate capper to what has been an enjoyable few days in Michigan. This state is actually the only one of the upper Midwest that I had never spent much time in, so not only was I happy to get a taste of Ann Arbor and various staple eateries such as the Maize and Blue Deli or The Cottage Inn, but I've also gotten the opportunity to try what has to be the greatest named beer I've ever heard of in my life, which was of course, a local brew from the city of Detroit known as.... Ghetto Blaster.
I won't even claim to be above the fray on this one. We absolutely bought a pitcher of this beer simply because the name was hilarious and the word "blaster" made me immediately assume this was the type of beer that would be produced by some combination of events on The Wire and at Mos Eisley Spaceport. Whether or not they serve it at the cantina, I can't say, but if Han drank it he would almost certainly be shooting first. The beer itself isn't half bad, though I wouldn't consider it great.
Also, I was only hit on by one man, which, even as a heterosexual, was kind of disappointing. I'm just going to assume they could tell I wouldn't be interested.
Of course, the biggest event so far was my visit to the Palace of Auburn Hills to see the Pistons beat the Nets in an entertainingly high scoring, and defensively nonexistent affair. The Palace is an interesting arena because it's more than 20 years old and yet as the forebear of the modern wave of luxury-suite laden basketball and hockey arenas, it actually holds up very well. It hardly seems as old as it is even though some of the murals are a bit out of date, such as the one depicting the three-time WNBA champion Detroit Shock, who have since moved to Tulsa, Oklahoma. Also, the ubiquity of dumbest basketball GM alive Isiah Thomas is less than inspiring if you're a Knicks fan, but otherwise the building has aged better than George Clooney in a number of senses. If I had been told it was four years old, I would have believed it.
Of course, 48 hours later, the far more meaningful event of the week, given the fact that both teams are still alive and have won Stanley Cups in the last three years, is happening tonight, and I am pumped. I have no idea what traffic heading into Detroit will be like, but I'm optimistic that I'll have plenty of time to see how the place looks and hopefully scope out that statue of Gordie Howe they've got. And there's also the outside chance that I'll get to see Chicago clinch a playoff spot depending on what happens between Dallas and Colorado, an event that, remarkably, in all my years of attending sporting events would be a first.
Of course, for that to happen, quite a few chips would have to fall into place. Beggers can't be choosers. I'm just happy to be there.
And if they serve Ghetto Blaster on tap, I may just be even happier.
If you went to Northwestern, and I'm guessing since this is mostly read by my friends then the proportion is higher than usual, you might have noticed that the Wildcats got bounced in the second round of the Big Ten Tournament today by No. 1 Ohio State. What you might not have noticed is that Northwestern had a lead in the final minute that it let slip away before falling in overtime. Not only could this have been the single greatest moment of Northwestern's rather thin basketball history, but it also would have kept the highly faint hopes NU had of reaching the NCAA Tournament for the first time, hopes that it would seem rested solely on claiming the Big Ten's automatic bid by winning the conference tournament.
The Wildcats are likely to get an NIT bid, but that seems small consolation for coming so close to knocking off the No. 1 team in the country, a feat that just might have invigorated what has been a steadily improving but nonetheless fledgling program. What makes the loss all the more frustrating, however, is that this is second time this season Northwestern has taken the No. 1-ranked Buckeyes to the final minute with a chance to pull off the monumental upset. It feels like something greater than the season at large has been lost when two narrow chances to make a bold statement to the world of college basketball both slip through the Wildcats' fingers.
What was most frustrating for me, however, was that being a dedicated alum and a Northwestern fan, you'd think there was no chance I'd miss what could be the greatest moment in the lackluster history of NU basketball. And you'd be wrong. For you see at the exact moment Northwestern had shockingly taken the lead in the waning moments this afternoon, I was somewhere in northern Maryland on a bus bound for D.C. where I will be seeing the Blackhawks and Capitals Sunday afternoon.
This presented a number of issues.
I was hoping to follow the game on my laptop using ESPN3.com, which I have remote streaming set up for. However, when you're on a bus internet can be, diplomatically speaking, "shitty". In the case of the M31 Megabus from New York to Washington D.C. on March 11, 2011, it was utterly nonexistent.
I spent most of the game following on my phone and on twitter, refusing to believe that my Wildcats would actually make a game of it, let alone take the lead late in the game. Then I glanced at my phone and saw it was a one-point game in the second half.
It was time to break out the big guns. I got out of my seat, rifled through my luggage and pulled out my laptop in hopes of connecting to the bus's mobile internet. Connect I did.
And then: Nothing.
Apparently being connected to the internet isn't the same thing as actually getting to use the internet, and despite the comments of the young man next to me that on his bus to New York earlier this week he was able to watch the Big East tournament, I wasn't able to so much as load my homepage. Though when I consider that he also told me Rocky IV was the best of the series, perhaps he wasn't the man to trust.
Either way, the inevitable outcome was clear. I was not going to get to watch the magic or lack thereof happen in live streaming video. Instead I had to resort to painstakingly reloading the score on my iPhone's ESPN app, where I saw that not only did Northwestern let its late lead slip away, but the Wildcats got beat up in overtime in what eventually would be a season-ending 67-61 defeat. Sometimes it just isn't meant to be.
And sometimes you aren't meant to see it, regardless of what it is.
Luckily, the whole reason I'm here is to see the Blackhawks and Capitals this Sunday and cross team No. 39 off the list. While there are still some questions as to whom, exactly, will be seeing the game with me, I do know that at least I'll be there in person. I will actually witness that game.
Like shockingly so. For a franchise that has all of one Stanley Cup Final appearance in four decades, no championships and really very little historic greatness to speak of, it is amazing how much they can charge for a marquee game at the Verizon Center.
I found this much out this week as I painstakingly monitored eBay auctions and kept a watch on Stubhub to guarantee that I might actually get to sit somewhere in the crowd for this Sunday's Blackhawks-Capitals game, a game I had pegged since past summer as my preferred visit at long last to see the Caps play hockey. I was hoping I might be able to swindle the ducats through work, but when that avenue dried up I had to resort to the secondary market to find that the Capitals, last year's Presidents' Trophy winners, have instituted a tiered pricing system for this season to get more money out of the more desirable matchups.
I don't really have a problem with this. After all, the Mets and just about every other Major League Baseball team has the same system, but for some reason it didn't occur to me that a game against the defending Stanley Cup Champions, which could very well serve as a preview of this spring's Stanley Cup Final would be one of those pricier games.
And boy howdy is it pricey.
I had anticipated that a markup would cause me to part with somewhere between $40-50 for a spot in the upper deck, but after looking at eBay auctions aplenty, I found that this would be nearly impossible and that face value for upper deck seats for this particular game -- behind the goal -- is $95. That's almost $100 to watch from the nosebleeds for a regular season game. Egads.
Now granted, I understand the magnitude of this Sunday's matchup. Both teams are suddenly on incredibly hot tears and happen to have some fo the best young players in the World, one who is younger than me and has already captained a Stanley Cup champion, and another who is younger than me, might be the best player on the planet and appears to have way more fun than I do.
That said, I really didn't want to pay $95 for a ticket, and it took some emotional convincing to finally find tickets that, while overpriced to start with, were still somewhat reasonable considering. In the end last night I purchased a pair of seats in section 407 for a total of $147.50, which, working out to $73.75 each, is technically lower than face value even if it is outrageous. Of course, there were some sticky issues with this. First of all, they're print out e-tickets, and for purposes of building up my personal collection of entertaining ticket stubs, I loathe e-tickets when it's my first time seeing a team.
I managed to convince the original ticket owner to mail me his hard tickets afterward so that I can keep them as a souvenir, so on that front all is well. But because this person obviously had season tickets they aren't victim to ills of tiered pricing which means they pay a flat average rate for each game over the course of the year, and that rate happens to be far lower than face value for this game if you bought it individually, and that rate -- which is a mere $29 -- happens to be plastered in the top left corner of my printed out e-tickets. This begs the question on how I can justify asking a friend to pay me back for all or even part of their ticket when it was more than twice what is listed on the ticket itself.
Of course, while I will be seeing two of the hotter teams in the League this Sunday for Team No. 39, I won't be seeing the hottest team, which of course remains the New Jersey Devils who are humming along after cutting down the current deficit to 8 points with 17 games remaining after a 20-2-2 stretch in their last 24 games. The miracle run is still alive, although some jerk is spreading doom and gloom about the Devils' legitimate postseason prospects, but lately talk has sprung up from some experts that New Jersey is not just a possible playoff participant, but a certain one. Even if the Devils don't make the impossible possible, some are saying, in my mind legitimately, that Jacques Lemaire should still be considered for coach of the year.
My guess is that unless New Jersey makes the playoffs, the award will go to Tampa Bay's Guy Boucher, but in any event, watching the Devils right now is a lot of fun -- something it hasn't been for a while.
Finally, and in news that none of you will care about other than me, something else that I haven't been able to watch for a while, Aussie Rules Football, is just over two weeks away from starting its season, and after finding this picture on the twitters yesterday, I'm hopeful there might be a new fan. Yes, that's President Obama and Australian Prime Minister Julia Gillard testing out their best handballs with an authentic footy, known by many fans as a "Sherrin" in the oval office during a state visit by the Aussie head of state. Gillard, as I've mentioned before, apparently has quite the knack for prognostication when it comes to footy, and rumor has it she's an enormous Western Bulldogs supporter. During the visit she gave Obama a cultural education that, according to Barry, nearly cost the U.S. goverment a bust of Abe Lincoln.
Surely that's a joke, just like the price I paid for my tickets for this weekend. But either way, it should be a good visit, if for no other reason than to scratch a team off the list. And apparently it'll be a good visit for the Blackhawks even if they don't wind up coming away from the Verizon Center with two points Sunday. They may not have a Sherrin, but they have a big silver bowl. As a result, they get a day with the President, too.
Ok, let's be honest here. No one actually wants a championship ring so they can wear it. They're gaudy, heavy clunky things that attract way more attention than most people are comfortable with in their private lives and not always the good kind.
Who wouldn't want a championship ring of some sort, really? They're fun to show off and a sense of great pride if acquired through an actual accomplishment even if it spends all of its time in your safety deposit box. Of course some people just want them because of their value and will acquire them through whatever means they wish, which is surprisingly easy if you've got a big bank account.
So I hear the questions. "Dave, why are you talking about this? You're never going to get a championship ring for yourself. You're just a wee wannabe sportswriter." True, this statement may be, but working for a team professionally has been a thought in the back of my mind from time to time, and regardless, having a championship ring of any sort would be pretty sweet, even if I had to keep it locked up at all times. A burden, sure, but one I'd love to have even if it were just for bragging rights, but either way, it's never been a prospect I've thought I'd have a real shot at or seriously entertained.
Those Chicago Blackhawks were quite a fun team to watch this year, but as I've pointed out on more than one occasion, I was rather excited to see them win the whole shabang even if they weren't the New Jersey Devils. Ever since I worked as an intern for the Blackhawks during my senior year of college four years ago, I have had a soft spot in my heart for the Hawks, both as someone who has seen the inner workings of a professional sports franchise and as someone who still has friends in the organization. It is disconcerting to see that they still lost money this season despite partying with Stanley, but that is likely a remnant of the antiquated business practices of former owner Bill Wirtz, who famously refused to broadcast home games on TV. The team should turn a profit this coming season and be well on its way.
I was more struck by this part of the article, however:
"There's definitely no penny-pinching going on. Among those set to receive Stanley Cup rings next season include the team's interns."
They're giving rings to everyone. They're giving rings to interns. It's hard to play the what-if game here, but I think you all can see what I'm getting at here, which, essentially, is that, if I were four years younger, I would be getting some new hardware this summer.
I would have a Stanley Cup championship ring.
This is, of course, a very silly and abstract argument to make since being four years younger likely would have led me on an entirely different path through my life. That is probably pretty clear. Moreover, considering that Chicago finished last in its division the year I worked there, a title was hardly a plausible idea at the time. But it's still fun to dream and in my mind, I apparently came oh so close to bragging to all of my friends over a dramatically undeserved piece of jewelry.
So close, and yet so far away.
There is some better news however, which is that the tickets to my next planned venture have arrived. Now, it won't be the next unusual stadium I make my way to. My sister and I will likely be at the Giants-Rockies game in San Francisco on August 30th and there is a very slim chance that I might get to knock Dodger Stadium off the list on September 1st to make up for last week's near miss after my sister and I drive down the California coast.
But barring that, my next big trip will be to Indianapolis to see the quadrennial Manning Bowl with Dov Turner. The Giants visit the Colts once every eight years and with the next time coming on September 19, I will be there in the very last row of Lucas Oil Stadium to watch Big Blue spoil the AFC Champions' home opener after some banner raising fanfare.
Excited? You bet. I'll be sure to post a story once the trip is complete and with the Mets being a completely unmitigated disaster these days, I was happy to receive something to take my mind off the pain.
It may not be a Stanley Cup Championship ring, but today it will have to do.
I, some of you may have noticed, rather like sports. Like a lot. You probably should notice that since that's more or less the entire point of this blog.
Regardless, one might imagine that there is little I would enjoy more on a day I can make entirely about me than watching sports. Makes sense, right? Well, today, as it is my 25th birthday, is that day. In past years I've spent my birthday watching the Home Run Derby, the All-Star Game or attending a Mets game if they happen to be home.
In the world of amateur and professional sports I follow, in no particular order, the following teams: New York Mets New York Giants New Jersey Devils Chicago Blackhawks New York Knicks Northwestern Wildcats Florida State Seminoles Southampton FC Geelong FC
So knowing that I pay so much attention to so many organizations, it seems more than a wee bit odd that this year my birthday happens to fall on the one completely dark day of the North American sports calendar. That's right everyone, the day after the MLB All-Star Game, every year is the only day on the entire calendar in which no regular or postseason games are played in the MLB, NFL, NHL or NBA.
Not a one.
It seems bizarre to me that on my birthday I won't get to watch any sporting events -- though the picturesque vistas of this year's Tour de France will have to do for now, but perhaps that's a good thing. Now nothing will be able to distract me when I'm having my celebratory dinner here tonight.
But for someone who grew up in the 90's and watched an unheralded dynasty come to maturity (and fall short of true historic greatness by not sealing a title in 2001), the moment that rings loudest in the franchise annals is Jason Arnott dumping the puck top shelf past Ed Belfour in the second overtime of Game 6 in the 2000 Stanley Cup Finals. The goal sealed the Devils' second Stanley Cup Championship in outrageously dramatic fashion.
Fast-forward two years and Devils GM Lou Lamoreillo, seeking to shake up what he sees as a stale roster, ships Arnott and longtime Devil Randy McKay off to Dallas for Jamie Langenbrunner and Joe Nieuwendyk. While Nieuwendyk and Langenbrunner would be key pieces of the Devils' third title a year later, Arnott would eventually wind up in Nashville where he has fashioned a solid if unspectacular career.
While the Devils have still been a solid contender in the years since and Arnott has achieved success in Tennessee, there has always been something unfulfilling about seeing the man who fashioned the greatest goal in franchise history spend most of his career in another jersey.
But that all changed this weekend, when Lamoreillo, seeking improved strength down the middle as the Devils hunt one last title before Brodeur retires and the window closes, dealt a draft pick and Matt Halischuk to Nashville for the man who made the Devils champions for a second time.
And apparently Arnott couldn't be happier.
In an interview with the Fire & Ice blog, Arnott said that while New Jersey isn't generally the most sought after free agent destination, he was "devastated" when he was dealt to Dallas. Arnott had been part of a wildly productive unit with Patrik Elias and Petr Sykora known as "The A-Line", and while Sykora was in a hospital after a vicious hit at the time of Arnott's Cup-winner, the line's chemistry was still in place as Arnott potted the goal on an absolutely blind feed from Elias.
Ten years later, Elias has become the Devils' all-time leading scorer, Arnott has been one of the league's steadiest captains and Sykora has had his own set of big postseason moments, including the winner of a 5OT game with Anaheim in 2003 and a 3OT season-saver in Game 5 of the 2008 Stanley Cup Final for Pittsburgh. Sykora, however, appears to be at the end of his career -- a shame for me as he was the first Devil I saw score in person -- but with Arnott and Elias playing together, there is an old-timey feel to next season's Devils team that will bring fans memories if not another championship. Beyond the obvious strategic advantage to putting a big, sturdy, proven center in the lineup, Devils fans have to be excited to have a favored son back in the fold.
This year's champions are still making headlines, and rightfully so. The Chicago Blackhawks were one of the most complete teams in hockey all this year before they capped their season off with a deserved Stanley Cup Championship in Philadelphia, but today the team is also making headlines for what it plans to do with Stanley. And incidentally, it may not be so far-fetched to confuse this Stanley with this Stanley.
Why, you ask? Well, because the Chicago Blackhawks have responded to a request from the Chicago Gay Hockey Association to march the Cup through this weekend's Chicago Gay Pride Parade, and will indeed be bringing the Cup, along with defenseman Brent Sopel, to the celebration. Here is the official announcement from the CGHA. While I don't necessarily think it's appropriate for the Cup to be used as a political statement, I do acknowledge that sports and politics, particularly at the Olympics, often are intertwined. If there is a statement for the Stanley Cup to be a part of, I see the struggle for gay equality to be a fairly appropriate one. Professional sports often is wracked by the forced facade of machismo, in hockey as well as any other. But in the aftermath of the tragic passing of Toronto GM Brian Burke's son Brendan, and the elder Burke's vow to march in the Toronto Pride Parade in his honor, that facade is being stripped away.
As I said, I don't much like the idea of the Cup being used to make political statements, but as far as statements go, this is one that makes sense to me. Having an opinion on how the United States should manage trade or whom to go to war with is a real debate. Denying human equality has no argument for either side.
Last on my list of rambles today is that we are finally at the first day of elimination games at the World Cup. The knockout stage of 16 is yet to start, but France and the host nation South Africa have already gotten their walking papers from this year's tournament after failing to make up goal differential this morning. One more group will have its advancers settled this afternoon. While I'm still smarting from the U.S. being robbed of a remarkable comeback win against Slovenia last Friday, I'm as excited as can be for the Yanks' final group match tomorrow against Algeria, which, for the time being will decide their fate in the greatest of international sports tournaments.
What, you don't feel like blowing your vuvuzela? Don't worry. If the States can prevail tomorrow and play their way into the round of 16, you just might. I know I will.
Yes, those of you who know me know that when it comes to matters of hockey, the New Jersey Devils are the be all and end all for my emotions. But I have made it no secret that during my time with the Chicago Blackhawks as a wee web intern from Northwestern University I developed a fondness for what was, at the time, an utterly moribund franchise. Chicago had made one playoff appearance in the previous decade when I got there, and was never anything close to a contender.
The plus side to that, however, is that copious high draft picks mount up, and if you have a smart enough scouting staff and a savvy GM, the fortunes can turn around swiftly. Those fortunes all came to fruition last night when the Hawks knocked off the Flyers, 4-3, in overtime for their first Stanley Cup in 49 years. Now, some might harp on the fact that Patrick Kane's game-winner was one of the more bizarre incidents I've ever seen in sports, as colorfully painted by the announcers whom had absolutely no idea what was happening, but it doesn't matter. A good goal is a good goal, and if you're in the right place at the right time like Kane, the good goal makes you a Stanley Cup Champion.
Awkward or no, my guess is the Windy City won't be caring. And neither do I.
While the final winning score might give an indication that perhaps goal judges should always be sitting behind the net, a close look at the video shows that Patrick Kane and Patrick Sharp both reacted immediately, and that, perhaps, they're the only two people in the arena who actually knew what was going on. Of course, the rest of the building would figure it out soon enough when commissioner Gary Bettman presented captain Jonathan Toews with the Stanley Cup.
Toews, who was also awarded the Conn Smythe Trophy as playoff MVP, got that always crucial decision of whom to pass the Cup to first. Starting with the 22-years-in-waiting delivery of Lord Stanley to Ray Bourque in 2001, the first person after the captain has generally been one who has waited the longest or been most deserving of the title. Unsurprisingly, this year's recipient was Marian Hossa, whose journey to a third straight final with three different teams finally ended in a victory. While I generally don't believe in curses, it was hard not to wonder after Philadelphia tied the game late in the third period on a goal that essentially bounced into the net off Hossa. Fortunatley for Hossa, however, and the Hawks who have him under contract for 11 more seasons, the curse seems to have been lifted.
Not surprisingly, the celebration stayed underway for a while. After arriving in Chicago around 4 a.m. local time and immediately went to a bar to start drinking. I'm not sure anyone will blame them as most of Chicago, a city that outside of Michael Jordan's remarkable reign in the 1990s, often feels an inferiority complex in a history of sparsely won championships. The Hawks' 49-year drought aside, the Bears have one title in the last 47 years, the White Sox went 88 years before winning the World Series in 2005 and the Cubs, well, the Cubs are special. So it's not surprising that the City of Broad Shoulders is reveling in its triumph just a bit, and to those who have lived there or been part of the Blackhawks organization, however large or small a capacity, you can't help but be touched by the moment. Some of us are a little better at controlling our emotions than Jeremy Roenick, who was drafted eighth overall by Chicago in 1988 and clearly still carries pain from experiencing a Finals loss with the Hawks in 1992. But while some might claim he's trying to take the spotlight for himself, I thought it was a sweet moment showing how special the awarding of a Stanley Cup can be.
There is likely to be talk about the hit this team may take depthwise as the salary cap chickens come home to roost following last offseason's embarrassing contract mishap. But while some players will likely be shipped out, with big scorer Patrick Sharp possibly among them, Kane, Toews, Hossa and other stalwarts like Duncan Keith and Brent Seabrook will be in the fold for years to come.
One can never predict the likelihood of multiple Stanley Cups, but I would be surprised if the Blackhawks weren't in the mix for the next decade to come. In the meantime, you'll have to forgive them if they're having a little too much fun enjoying their first visit with Stanley in half a century.
And even if they aren't my absolute favorite team, you'll have to excuse me if I take some time to enjoy it, too.
The biggest tragedy of Armando Galarraga's 28-out Perfecto last night is that English clearly isn't Galarraga's first language. No, don't worry, I'm not about to throw every book in the state of Arizona at him, after all, the game was in Detroit, but my mention of the language barrier is that Galarraga may not have the same understanding of dry wit and nuance that can inspire brilliant commentary and quotation. And because of that he might not understand why he's so worthy of Bartlett's these days.
After speaking to the media last night, Galarraga was questioned about his emotions or anger towards first base umpire Jim Joyce, and Galarraga, who apparently is the classiest most zen act in all of baseball history, simply smiled and said, "Nobody's perfect." The staggering genius of that phrasing in that situation ought to be lost on no one.
Of course, in the grand scheme, his quote won't be the memory most people have of this historic moment gone awry, but instead the forfeiture of the single most hallowed of individual accomplishments in baseball history will in and of itself be the story. Indeed the remarkable case of a third perfect game inside the span of one month -- until this year two had never happened in the same season in the modern era -- has overwhelmed what was an outrageously busy June night in sports. Ken Griffey Jr., iconic kid of the 1990s who was originally to be the subject of today's post, announced the end of his Hall of Fame career yesterday afternoon, while the Philadelphia Flyers made it a series with their 4-3 overtime win over Chicago last night in the 2010 Stanley Cup Final.
But all of that goes to the backburner now, and as a man who has loved watching Ken Griffey Jr. and spends a considerable amount of time paying attention to hockey, I'm fine with that. Because this is a once in a lifetime kind of moment that we may never see again. And it has the power to transcend and forever change its sport.
There has been a great deal of talk about Bud Selig coming in and potentially changing the call so that Galarraga gets his properly awarded perfect game, and evidently Major League Baseball is legitimately discussing the possibility of doing just that. Now, Michigan governor Jennifer Granholm might argue that she has already taken care of that, but what makes this interesting is that a powerful precedent could be set this week with a wide-ranging impact on just how much power Selig or any other commissioner has to influence the "human aspect" of the game.
The "Human aspect" has long been the argument Major League Baseball has given us for refusing to institute expanded replay beyond the current system, which just allows for home runs to be reviewed as fair or foul. That is, in my mind, a silly romanticized argument, but I can at least see where these people are coming from. We watch the game because we love it and its "purity" after all, don't we? I would argue, however, that the "human aspect" of the game is maintained by the umpire's responsibility for calling balls and strikes behind the plate. Pitching to a strike zone that has been established by the umpire during the course of a game is a unique and important aspect that can't be duplicated through the use of a video camera.
Does the ump like them high? Does he like strikes across the knees? Is he giving the outside corner today?
These are all questions that lend an intellectual and "human" aspect to the game. However, calls like the one missed by Joyce last night are not subject to this human element. Because Jason Donald was out at first, every camera angle showed it, and the remarkably contrite Joyce, whom you can hear below, knew it.
And I, for one, see no plausible argument for not expanding replay to judgment calls that are clear cut such as this, such as whether a ball is fair or foul or whether or not a ball was caught before it hit the ground. Strikes and balls should be left alone, but these are easy to define, clearly distinguishable calls that can only ensure the game is going correctly. Now, I understand the other major argument of detractors: "The game is already so long". And to them I say this.
Fuck off.
They have to get the call right. They have to get the call right. They have to get the call right. They have to get the call right. They have to get the call right.
THEY HAVE TO GET THE CALL RIGHT.
That's it. End of story. The call has to be right. I see no argument against this or possible logic that could convince me otherwise. Clean and simple. If one fan from last night's game can be found that says, "It would have been nice to see a real perfect game but I'm glad I got home five minutes earlier," I may change my mind. And so given that -- and the remarkable class shown by all parties involved from Galarraga to Joyce to Tigers manager Jim Leyland -- whether or not this call gets overturned by Selig, and I'm not so sure it should, I don't think instant replay will be far behind.
Galarraga for his part was presented with a brand new Corvette and given a standing ovation as he presented the lineup card for this afternoon's Tigers-Indians finale. The home plate umpire he presented it to, ironically, was Jim Joyce. And while the implementation of instant replay should be the lasting impact of this event, the grace with which Galarraga has handled the whole event is what should be remembered. Galarraga has told his kids that he'll always tell them he threw a perfect game, but as it stands, carrying a perfect game ostensibly through 28 batters could arguably rank as the second-greatest pitching performance behind Harvey Haddix's remarkable 12 perfect innings.
And aside from the oversaturated media world we now live in ensuring Galarraga's achievement will never be forgotten, Galarraga would always get from his start something Haddix never did -- a win. Of course, the good will will make Galarraga the winner in more ways than one, but if expanded replay is the eventual result, we may all be reaping the benefits.
Some of you might have noticed that the 2010 Stanley Cup Finals start tonight at 8 p.m. in the United Center. This year's final series will pit two classic franchises with two extensive title droughts, meaning either Philadelphia's 35-year dryspell or Chicago's 49-year stretch will be no more in about two weeks.
Of course, the matchup is a curious one that at the start of the tournament six weeks ago, most would be hard-pressed to have expected. Chicago finished with the second-best record in the West and were widely considered a Championship contender, but the Flyers' road to the Finals was somewhat bumpier and less expected. If you've been following the playoffs at all, you don't need me to recount the improbability of their run, but in case you missed it here we go:
-- The Flyers earned a playoff spot on the final day of the season when journeyman Brian Boucher improbably outdueled Rangers goaltender Henrik Lundqvist in a win-and-you're-in season finale shootout. -- Philly took out the favored, second-seeded Devils in the first round, though given the Flyers' 5-1 record against New Jersey in the regular season this may have been the least likely step. -- In a remarkable comeback, the Flyers became the fourth team in professional sports history to rally from a 3-0 series deficit to advance to the conference finals. To boot, Philly rallied from an early 3-0 deficit in Game 7 on the road in Boston. This series also saw Boucher suffer a season ending injury, leaving Michael Leighton, the fifth man to dress for the Flyers in net this year, between the pipes. -- The Flyers dominated torridly hot Montreal goalie Jaroslav Halak and ousted the Canadiens, themselves on an unlikely run, in five games to make a wholly unexpected Finals appearance.
Of course, if you're a full-fledged Hawks, or a supporter of any stripe like myself, you'll be hoping Philly's dream run ends here. Of course, you might also want that strictly for the integrity of downtown Philadelphia's infrastructure. Either way, my entirely meaningless and uninfluential prediction will give you an only slightly biased idea of where the series is going, but I'll break it down this way.
While the Flyers have potent primary scoring on match with Chicago's the secondary scoring is not there. I'd have to give the Hawks the edge based on their offensive depth. Edge: Hawks.
Chicago's defense has bruisers and puck movers alike, which likely Norris winner Duncan Keith and his pretty new smile in tow. Philly's defense doesn't have the same depth. But it does have Chris Pronger. Edge: Flyers.
Neither goaltender is much to shout about, but I'll give Chicago's Antti Niemi the slight edge because of his tendency to come up big for most of this postseason.
So that leaves us where? Here. Blackhawks in Five. Chicago's secondary scoring puts it over the top. On the regular.
Generally I make a comment here about how I'm certain to be wrong, but, uh, I really hope I'm right this time around. Tune into NBC at 8 to see if I am.
A few years ago, I started obnoxiously coining the phrase "Hat Trick Day" while scanning the sporting events around the office TVs. No, I'm probably not the first person to develop this concept, but I may be the most irritating at bandying it about. Essentially, a Hat Trick Day is when three different teams you follow all win in the same day, and yesterday was a Hat Trick Day of momentous proportions.
Let's start with exhibit A: the one none of you probably know, or almost certainly care the least about, which involved Northwestern's Women's Lacrosse team trouncing Duke to the tune of 18-8 in the National Quarterfinals. Some of you may understand why I think this is noteworthy, but women's lacrosse is big business in my collegiate hamlet of Evanston, Illinois. Northwestern hadn't won a National Championship in any sport in more than six decades before the WoLaxers took the title in 2005 -- in only the fourth year of the program's existence. Not only was the campus taken by storm at the time, but it continues to be taken by storm as the program now sits just two wins away from its sixth consecutive National Title.
This one of course came fairly early in the day and with minimal stress. For one, I wasn't watching it, just following it on an online scoretracker. But perhaps more notably, Northwestern pounced early, taking a sizeable 11-point lead by halftime, making the Wildcats coast to victory fairly easy.
The Cats now move on to the National Semifinals, which will be played this coming weekend in Towson, Maryland where they'll face North Carolina, the only team to beat them this season before possibly reaching the final on Sunday afternoon. If they get that far, I just may be tempted to make the trip down south if someone else will be crazy enough to go with me.
Of course, that particular event paled in comparison to the next big win of the afternoon, which was easily the biggest, and probably the most angst inducing. The Chicago Blackhawks, I've noted on more than one occasion, hold a special place in my heart after I worked for them in college. They're not the Devils, who hold the pre-eminent place in my hockey heart, but they're also not the Devils in that while I grew up watching the Devils win three championships in nine years, the Hawks were stumbling through the obscurity of mediocre, decades removed from the franchise's traditional grandeur.
The Hawks spent most of the late 90s wallowing outside of the playoff picture, and enduring a seven year stretch without a postseason berth this decade before finally returning to spring last year. Yesterday the team with possibly the greatest jersey in sports, and almost certainly one of the best fight songs, rallied from two goals down to polish off a sweep of San Jose and reach the Stanley Cup Final for the first time in 18 years.
If that seems like a long drought, the last time Chicago hoisted the Cup was in 1961.
With the Hawks to be pitted against Montreal or, at this point, more likely Philadelphia, they're just four wins away from ending the longest current Championship drought in the League, with 49 years of shortfalls in their rear view mirror. If they pull it off, it'll be an awfully nice spring in Chicago, and that longest title-drought mantel will get shifted north to the Maple Leafs, who haven't won the Cup since 1967.
Last on the day's docket, beyond that TV Show everyone was so excited about, was the conclusion to the first round of the 2010 Subway Series, where my utterly hapless Mets actually stood a chance at taking the rubber match at Citi Field against the Yankees. While the game was billed as a pitcher's duel between aces Johan Santana and C.C. Sabathia, Sabathia didn't keep up his end of the bargain, as the Mets jumped on him for four runs early, which including an awfully surprising two home runs by Jason Bay.
Of course, the bullpen did its effort to make it interesting before K-Rod finally struck out A-Rod in an epic battle where the latter had come to the plate as the potential go-ahead run. It never does come easy for the Amazins. But either way, taking the subway series' first round and conquering the Empire State Building was a fitting capper on the day. Particularly since I hadn't had a Hat Trick Night in a while.
So yeah. It was a pretty good day. They can't all be like this, of course, but I'll hold out hope that the next one isn't so far away. If the Hawks can seal up a Championship, well, I may not have to wait too long.
In approximately nine hours I will be airborne from Laguardia to Atlanta's Hartsfield Airport for my first trip to the state of Georgia. I have been there once before, a delightful two-hour sojourn as I switched planes on my way to Kansas City last October, but I've never actually been to Atlanta and left the airport.
This will be a new experience.
The reason for this trip? Well, if you've been reading here you already know, so, in all likelihood, you don't know, but if you know me you can probably guess. I'll be meeting up with a few friends, one of whom was my freshman year college roommate, as I see the Amazin just-got-swept-by-the-Marlins Mets visit the Atlanta Braves in their former house of horrors, Turner Field.
This will be team No. 32 for me, meaning I'm almost out of the 90s in that ever-shrinking category of "Teams remaining". I doubt I'll be attending any debutante balls or touring antebellum mansions, but I'm pretty excited for my first trip to the deep south -- assuming you don't count my trip to New Orleans nine years ago. I'm going to try my best to squeeze in a stop at the Coca-Cola Museum and/or the aquarium, but failing that the baseball will do just fine.
Rest assured, you will all have a full report at some point in the future.
Meanwhilst, the trip to Atlanta will provide me with a brief break from the Stanley Cup playoffs, which had one result expected and one result surprising in the first game of the Western and Eastern Conference Finals yesterday. While Chicago's victory in San Jose is not necessarily the assumed outcome, the hard-fought back-and-forth game put on by what very well may have been the two best teams in the League this year was just what a hockey fan would have imagined it to be.
Montrealers, however, might have to wait a little while before doing their best Philadelaphia Phillies impression after seeing the Habs drop Game 1 to the Flyers Sunday. A shutout could have been foreseen in Game 1, but Philly's little-played Michael Leighton pulling off the clean sheet and not Montreal's blazing hot Jaroslav Halak caused a bit of a double take, particularly considering Halak's disastrous showing. I wouldn't be surprised to see the Canadiens get back on track in Game 2, after all, the Flyers are supposed to defend their home ice. The Habs just need to win there once.
But more than anything else, Sunday may have showed that the more competitive, and better played game in the West, features this year's likely champ. Philadelphia and Montreal are both riding remarkable momentum, but neither stands a chance against a San Jose or Chicago team if its running on full cylinders.
That's all for today, kids. See you in the Peach State.
I don't have a whole lot of time today to talk to you about how mind-numbingly bizarre it is that the Flyers are the seven seed and yet they have home ice in the Conference Finals....
But with two hours before the West Finals kick off between the Sharks and my (sort of) Blackhawks, I'll give you some rudimentary and hopefully right but probably wrong predictions.
Eastern Conference Final Montreal over Philadelphia in 7
Western Conference Final Chicago over San Jose in 6
It should be noted that in the West I'm rooting for the Hawks and in the East, with no palatable champion left for me, I'm rooting for an earthquake.
Yes, I know many of you would probably expect me to continue talking about the Mets, who, amazingly won their seventh in a row yesterday to stay atop the NL East by completing their first sweep of the Dodgers in 15 years. Exciting time are afoot in Queens, as New York takes its 1/2-game lead into Philadelphia this weekend for the first major challenge of the season. Of course, it would have been 1 1/2 games were it not for a late rally by the Phils in San Francisco yesterday, but I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth.
First place is first place, even if April is still April.
But the more pressing an exciting news comes in the way of the Stanley Cup Playoffs, which, after a wild Game 7 that saw the No. 1 team in the League blow a 3-1 series lead in the opening round, hits Round 2 tonight with no break whatsoever -- a rarity for the NHL. Instead Mega Shark Versus Giant Octopus gets underway in San Jose tonight, with the rest of the second round following suit tomorrow and Saturday. These aren't exactly the matchups I was expecting, peculiarly the 4, 6, 7 and 8 seeds were the ones to advance in the Eastern Conference, and with no Devils and no Capitals getting in the way I can't possibly imagine a scenario in which Sidney Crosby and the Penguins don't get to the Stanley Cup Finals.
And a rematch with the Wings for the third straight year doesn't seem all that crazy either. But of course, that's why they play the games.
And to that end, here are my certain to be just as wrong as they were in the first round predictions for the second round of your Stanley Cup Playoffs.
Eastern Conference (4) Pittsburgh over (8) Montreal in five games (6) Boston over (7) Philadelphia in six games
Western Conference (1) San Jose over (5) Detroit in seven games (2) Chicago over (3) Vancouver in six games
Yeah, I'm willing to bet at least on of those doesn't turn out right, probably Boston and Philadelphia, which some of you may recall is a rematch of this year's Winter Classic, and while I make no secret of disdaining Philadelphia, my only real hope for the rest of the playoffs is that the Blackhawks win the Stanley Cup.
Of course, knowing my luck in the playoffs so far, they'll probably get swept.
Lastly, I came across this news item on ESPN.com today stating that, according to a report by the Nielsen Company, the most hated team in Major League Baseball is... wait for it .... yep, just who you thought it'd be.
The Cleveland Indians.
Wait, what? A team that continually has its heart broken and hasn't won a World Series in 62 years is the most hated franchise in the sport? I see no way that this is feasibly possible. For one thing, I've had nothing but pleasant experiences seeing the Indians in person. For another, Cleveland isn't exactly a city that overwhelms you with its power and arrogance.
It's Cleveland, for heaven's sake.
And lastly, their mascot, Slider, is adorable. I mean look at him. As I told a friend earlier today, the only thought in my mind when I see him is to pinch his cheek and call him "Shookums".
Even that Roger Dorn, is kind of fun in his own assholish way. Now, I know the Indians lose some cache now that Pedro Cerrano has called it quits, but seriously, someone please explain to me what is eminently hateable about this team in anyway.
I'll buy you a cookie if you can convince me. Let the contest begin.
Since I started writing this blog about three months ago, today is the first time we've hit one of those yearly milestones where I find that a team I had such high hopes for will not be bringing home the ultimate prize this year. In the case of this year, the offending party is the New Jersey Devils, and for the fourth straight year, they will be setting up their spring tee times much earlier than I had anticipated.
Pardon me while I tear my clothing and cover all my mirrors.
Ok. Unless you're a Devils fan, this probably doesn't have the same impact for you, but considering New Jersey was challenging for the top seed in the East for a large portion of the season and then added one of the top offensive threats in the game in Ilya Kovalchuk, well, this is kind of surprising. But watching this team last night made a few things abundantly clear. For one, the offense was completely nonexistent and most of the players didn't seem to really care, with the exceptions of Dainius Zubrus and Zach Parise. The Flyers, despite being the No. 7 seed and needing a shootout on the final day to make the postseason, had taken five of six from the Devils during the year. They were confident, New Jersey wasn't, and it showed. For another, the Kovalchuk deal was a gutsy move, and for that GM Lou Lamoreillo deserves credit, but Kovy clearly didn't fit into this system and he had a nasty habit of trying to play Superman every time he touched the puck.
What makes this most irksome is that more questions will start to come up around Martin Brodeur not being a big-game goaltender anymore, which, if you watched, is complete hooey. Brodeur played phenomenally in Games 3 and 4, but was behind an offense that wracked up all of four even strength goals in the series. No goaltender can manage to win when his team is making Brian Boucher look like a Hall of Famer.
Lord, I hate Philadelphia.
As a result, I am far too emotionally distraught to put together my weekly 1995 Mail Bag post -- I know you're heartbroken -- but I will make it a point to put one up next week. It is worth noting that I still, technically, have a horse left in this race in the Chicago Blackhawks, who very well might wind up winning the Stanley Cup considering they have the talent to do so. While the Hawks were on edge this week, their win in Game 4 in Nashville last night has everything square with Game 5 at home. As I've noted before, I have a soft spot for the Hawks after my employment there in college.
But let's be honest. The Devils are my team. Always have been. Always will be. It's irrational to think your team will win a Championship every season, but it doesn't make it less distressing when you have high hopes. I suppose there's always next year.
The unfortunate thing about this is that the Devils' elimination marred what had been a fairly good night for me on the sports front. The Mets won their first series of the year -- a four-gamer at that -- by taking out the Cubs for the third time in four days, the Hawks regained momentum in their series and the NFL Draft provided endless entertainment for all four hours of its first round.
I was miffed to see both Rolando McClain and C.J. Spiller gone by the time the Giants rolled around at 15, but Jason Pierre-Paul is apparently expected to be a very solid defensive end, and I'm of firm belief that youu can never have enough of those, so I'm satisfied.
Other thoughts: -- I can't tell if Josh McDaniels is very clever or trying way too hard to meddle with his multiple first-round deals that eventually netted him Tim Tebow. No one's arguing the intangibles Tebow brings to the table, but scouts unanimously had doubts on him before he changed his throwing motion for a reason. Also, it could make it awkward that everyone on the Broncos will need to be baptized before joining the team now.
-- The Rams made a large mistake in drafting for need over drafting for the best player on the board. I know everyone says Sam Bradford has the necessary skills to be an NFL quarterback, but he is coming off an injury, and I won't believe a Bob Stoops Oklahoma quarterback is an NFL prospect until I see it proven to me (Josh Heupel and Jason White, anyone?). Moreover, stud quarterback prospects come along every year. Game-changing defensive tackles don't, and you need to grab one when the opportunity presents itself, which leads me to...
-- I'd say the team that had the best first round, by far, was the Detroit Lions. Ndamukong Suh will give that defensive line an incredible presence when he has a year or two under his belt, and Jahvid Best adds a new dimension to an offense that already has a top flight receiver in Calvin Johnson and a good-looking quarterback prospect in Matt Stafford. Get this team an offensive line and it will be a force right when the Vikings and Packers start to see their windows close in the NFC North.
-- It won't be long until the 49ers once again rule the NFC West. Alex Smith may not be the most dynamic quarterback to have back there, but he did play well down the stretch. Take into account that the Niners have Michael Crabtree, Vernon Davis and Frank Gore on the offense and add the two elite-level offensive line prospects they selected in the first round (Anthony Davis of Rutgers and Mike Iupati of Idaho) and they have the right pieces in place.
-- Minnesota would be smart to take Jimmy Clausen in the second round. That he has fallen out of the first is a gift to a franchise that is pinning its championship hopes on a man who may or may not play next year and may or may not decide if he is until August. If the Vikings don't grab him, I'd be stunned if Buffalo didn't early tonight.
-- Lastly, how have Mike Kafka and Corey Wootton not been scooped up yet? Seriously?
Ok, I'm done. Enjoy your weekends. It's time for me to forget about hockey for a few hours.
Some of you might remember a few years ago when ESPN produced commercials for college football Bowl Season, or "ESPN Capital One Bowl Week" as they call it, where the Worldwide Leader advertised its plethora of Bowl matchups to the strains of Andy Williams' "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year". These ads weren't all that annoying -- it's not a bad song -- but they were on all the time. If you so much as turned on your TV for four minutes of Sportscenter, you were bound to come across it, probably more than once.
There rub here comes in the fact that, well, Bowl Season isn't the most wonderful time on the year in the sports calendar. There are a number of sporting events that are far more exciting and intriguing, such as the NFL Playoffs, the MLB Playoffs, March Madness -- well, pretty much all of them really. Bowl season by comparison is utterly lame, and you can trace that to the fact that all but one of the 30-some games that are played are completely and utterly meaningless. And from the looks of it, that won't be changing any time soon, particularly with websites like these promoting a playoff.
No, the most wonderful time of the year on the sports calendar is actually in the spring time, and while I'm sure a number of you will tell me I'm being nepotistic or generally ridiculous, I really believe the most wonderful time of the year is the Stanley Cup Playoffs. For those of you who remember the excitement of watching the U.S. and Canada face off twice in the Winter Olympics earlier this year, that tournament was dramatic, exciting and gripping in all facets. Well, the Stanley Cup Playoffs are like that every night for two months. The change in tension and level of play from the regular season to the postseason is perhaps more dramatic than in any other North American sport with epic overtime moments dotting its historic landscape. Not to mention that the Stanley Cup Playoffs drive women crazy.
Frankly, it shouldn't be too hard given the excitement of the season as it came down to the final day. In one of the wildest moments I've ever seen in hockey, the Rangers and Flyers played a win-and-you're-in showdown that came down to an unbelievably tense shootout. Meanwhile, Steven Stamkos, in only his second year, was locked up in a neck-and-neck race with golden boy Sidney Crosby, who had an absurd last few games, for the NHL's goal scoring title. Of course none of those goals came close to Daniel Sedin's wild between the legs tally on Miikka Kiprusoff Saturday night, which might have been the single greatest goal I've ever seen, if for no other reason than the amazing blind deflection pass made by his brother Henrik. Oh yeah, and it capped a hat trick.
That score had shades of Marek Malik, who some might recall ending the longest shootout in history with a similar between the legs shot back in 2005, and while moments on the last weekend ranged from the stunning, to the exciting, they also broached the sentimental, as Mike Modano played what is likely to be his last game, but did so in Minnesota, where his Dallas Stars used to toil as the Minnesota North Stars for the first few years of Modano's career. Not only did the Minnesota Wild fans show respect for Modano, who left the North Stars to the Stanley Cup Finals in 1991, but Modano paid it back by donning a North Stars jersey after the game when he was named first star.
Of course, there's little room for sentimentality in the playoffs. The NHL postseason is a grueling test of wills, grit and beard growing. It takes a tough team -- and maybe even some tough, and blunt fans -- to be the last one standing at the top, and as we get ready for this year's rendition to get underway, I have high hopes for my Devils and the Blackhawks as well, but, this tournament is an unpredictable one. And that's why these picks are going to be completely wrong.
East (1) Washington over (8) Montreal in four (2) New Jersey over (7) Philadelphia in six (3) Buffalo over (6) Boston in five (4) Pittsburgh over (5) Ottawa in four
West (1) San Jose over (8) Colorado in five (2) Chicago over (7) Nashville in six (6) Los Angeles over (3) Vancouver in seven (5) Detroit over (4) Phoenix in seven
I'll be the first one to admit that I'm going to be incorrect on at least one of those -- I change my thoughts on the Kings-Canucks series every few minutes -- but either way, it should be a particularly exciting playoffs, albeit more so in the West in the opening round. The top four in the East, however, all have ingredients for a deep run. Rather than make a foolish prediction for the finals that will ruin my entire credibility like some tournaments do, I'll simply say my preseason prediction of Caps-Sharks is looking fairly good and leave it at that.
Strap in. The next two months are going to be an awfully fun ride.
The first hockey trading card I ever owned, was a 3-D hologram of Mike Modano taking a slapshot. The year was 1995 and Modano, on his way to becoming the most prolific American-born scorer of all time, was in his sixth season in the NHL at the time with the Dallas Stars (nee Minnesota North Stars). Modano, who has topped 500 goals and 1,300 points during a Hall of Fame career, is the rare breed of star who was prolific, the No. 1 pick in the NHL Draft, a champion (Modano won the Stanley Cup with Dallas in 1999) and who spent his entire career with one franchise.
I am not wanting for new reasons to feel old these days, but I got a new one this week when Modano and one night later Keith Tkachuk, both played their presumptive last games in front of their home crowds. Tkachuk, another one of the greatest American scorers of all time with both 500 goals and 1,000 points to his credit,wasn't fortunate enough to lift Stanley at any point in his 18 year career, but he was still one of the more dangerous and talented American players of his era.
In fact, Modano and Tkachuk were two of the pillars of the vanguard of American hockey. There was no 1980 Miracle on Ice moment for either of them, but the U.S. experienced some of its greatest success on the ice with Modano and Tkachuk in tow. Both were crucial parts of the 1996 World Cup of Hockey team which shocked Canada in the Championship round with two comeback wins in Montreal, as well as the Silver Medal squad from the 2002 Winter Olympics.
While many of the great players of those teams (Mike Richter, Jeremy Roenick, Brian Leetch) have already retired, something seems fitting about Modano, who appropriately will be playing his last game back in Minnesota where his career started, and Tkachuk taking curtain calls on back to back nights and potentially being enshrined in Toronto together. That last part may be a pipe dream -- Modano is a stronger lock to make the Hall than Tkachuk -- but for two players who were so successful over roughly the same period it only seems appropriate for them to walk out together.
Modano, too, became a fixture in Dallas, where he was visibly brought to tears during the closing moments of his last game in Texas and again afterwards when he was treated to yet another standing ovation from the home crowd. Of course, Modano seemed to get his emotions in check fairly quickly, and picked a hell of a way to go out to his home fans. The Anaheim Ducks quickly spoiled the party after his tribute by taking the lead, but it was none other than Modano himself who would tie the game with under two minutes left. Mo wasn't done yet, either. After nearly ending the game on a breakaway in overtime, Modano scored the shootout winner as his final act on the ice in Dallas.
Not a bad way for only the second American ever drafted No. 1 to go out, huh? Tkachuk didn't have quite the same sparkling moment, but he was a pivotal part of a 6-3 win for St. Louis, ironically, also against the Ducks. The gutsy winger assisted on two goals in the third period to cap a comeback for the Blues, another appropriate sendoff.
But as we turn the page on two of the more accomplished players in American hockey history, who gets to step into their places on the forefront of USA Hockey? I'm no expert, but put one vote here for Zach Parise and Patrick Kane, and no, not because they happen to play for my two favorite teams. Aside from already showing themselves to be among the most gifted forwards in the League today, Kane is a similarly dynamic player to Modano, while Parise has the same nose for the net that Tkachuk has had throughout his career, with arguably more scoring ability. The pair has already proven themselves more than capable in the NHL Arena, and acquitted themselves extremely well at the Vancouver Olympics.
It became clear this year when the U.S. Olympic hockey roster was announced that there was going to be a clean break from the group that made such hay in the 1996 World Cup of Hockey and nearly turned the trick again at Salt Lake City in 2002. Modano, Tkachuk and other luminaries like Bill Guerin were noticeably absent from the roster in favor of younger players like Parise, Kane and gritty forwards like David Backes and Dustin Brown. Parise and Kane both played major roles in the tournament, with Parise memorably scoring with 24.4 seconds left in the gold medal game to force overtime.
If the next generation of USA Hockey is to meet or exceed the standards of what came before it, Parise and Kane's shoulders may very well be where the pressure rests. If they can come close to the legacies of Modano and Tkachuk both in the NHL and in International play, they'll have done themselves and their country proud.
It would be hard to find two better reputations to live up to.
