Ryan Who?

In honor of NaBloPoMO, I'll be attempting to post something every day in November. If you're not checking in every day, make sure you're catching all the posts!

(Slight explanation for this post: I'm a classroom aide at a school program for emotionally disturbed children. The classes are small - I have 6 kids right now though trust me, it often feels like 30 - and I think that makes for a more casual, hands-on relationship between the students and the staff. Just wanted to clarify that since people sometimes seem a little perplexed when I start talking about work because it's not really that much like a regular public school. Also, for the record, all the kids' names below have been changed due to confidentiality.)

Most of my students don't know the first thing about the Buffalo Sabres. Every couple of years I get one who watches hockey, but for the most part, they know very, very little. A lot of them don't have cable, they don't read the newspaper, and they don't have male figures in their day-to-day lives. (Not that mothers can't pass on a love of sports because hello! woman writing this sentence right now... but having a dad around helps, you know?) They generally know a couple of names, Ryan Miller being the primary one, but that's about it. The group I have this year is particularly unknowledgeable and not very sporty. Toward the beginning of the year one of them said to me, "Ryan Miller is my favorite! I love when he scores those goals!" (This kid is a total know-it-all who firmly believes that he's right about everything. When I pointed out that Ryan Miller is the goalie and has, as far as I know, never scored a goal, he said, "Well, he could score a goal if he wanted to, right?" When I said, "Yeah, I guess," he crossed his arms and nodded satisfactorily.)

The one thing I have noticed over the years though is that the kids quickly pick up on the fact that I love hockey and go out of their way to try and talk to me about it. It's cute really. Part of the reason most of them are in our program is because they don't know how to interact appropriately with other people so I find the whole "I don't care about this but I know you do so let's talk about it" aspect of the conversations to be very endearing. Every morning someone asks me if the Sabres won last night (even when they didn't play) and evidently they caught on to the ongoing theme for this season because when I said no, they'd ask, "Well, did they atleast play well?" They'll ask who scored, who we played, all that stuff, and they do occasionally seem to really soak up some information.

Last year there was a long stretch of the season where Tim Connolly seemed to cease to exist. He re-signed with the team before the season started and then fell off the face of the earth. I was secretly convinced that he was dead and the team just hadn't revealed it yet. So when I picked up the newspaper one day and saw a little picture of Tim at the top of the front page, I squealed. Alan, whose desk was right beside mine, asked what was going on so I explained how Timmy had been hurt during the playoffs pretty seriously, and how he'd missed so much time, and how I hadn't seen or heard him in months, and how he was one of my favorites so I was just really excited to see him in a hockey uniform and hear him finally talking about coming back. Alan nodded in slight interest and turned back to what he was doing. But at the end of the day he gave me this:


Seriously, how cute is that? (Margee, I apologize. I didn't think Alan would get the whole "Margee has dibs on Timmy" thing.)

Anyway, the one thing they never really seem to get is Henrik Tallinder. They'll ask me over and over and over who my favorite player is but they can't remember him. I don't know if they're just asking the question to ask it and not really listening to the answer or if it's not a name they hear much otherwise or if they have a hard time with it not being an American sounding name or what. So you can imagine my surprise and delight when Jake, who I've had for two years now, leaned over my shoulder the other day, pointed at a picture on my desk and said, "Hey, it's Henrik Tallinder!" No hesitation, no question, and perfect pronunciation which is more than some professionals can pull off.

"How'd you know that?"
"He's number 10, right?"
"Yeah, but how'd you know that?"
:::massive eye-rolling::: "Geez, Heather, you only talk about him ALL THE TIME."
"Do you know any other Sabres?"
"... Nah."

So there you go. I have helped create the only 12-year-old boy in the city of Buffalo who can pick Henrik Tallinder out of a line-up and not say, Ryan Miller. My work with Jake is clearly complete.

(I promise some "real" hockey content tomorrow. I spent all my non-working time in bed today due to a killer cold and I'm trying desperately not to get sick for my upcoming long weekend.)

For Those About to Rock...

In honor of NaBloPoMO, I'll be attempting to post something every day in November. If you're not checking in every day, make sure you're catching all the posts! I'm short on time today so nothing of real importance here...

Seriously, I love this whole Player Playlist thing. Toni Lydman's list is pretty much exactly what I expected and somehow, I'm still amused. I will never get over the fact that Toni, who always sounds completely sedated, listens to music like this, much to the chagrin of his non-Drew Stafford teammates. It cracks me right the heck up. I'm sure between the offensive outburst and these tunes, HSBC was rocking hard Friday night.

Captain Toni Lydman salutes you.

Toni Lydman's Playlist
Angel of Death, Slayer
Colony of Birchmen, Mastodon
I'll Cast a Shadow, Pantera
In Your Face, Children of Bodom
No Compromise, The Haunted
Refuse to Be Denied, Anthrax

(The language in some of the links isn't safe for little ears or sensitive big ears.)

True Confessions of Heather B.

In honor of NaBloPoMO, I'll be attempting to post something every day in November. If you're not checking in every day, make sure you're catching all the posts! That's right, two posts in one day. Blogger of the year, baby!

Before I get started I'd just like to point out that Marshawn Lynch was hurt on Sunday which is before I started publicly mouthing off about the Bills beating the Patriots. I had nothing to do with this. Nothing.

So Ottawa... They're pretty good, huh?

Okay, seriously, I have two major confessions to make here.

Confession Number One - I like the Ottawa Senators.
The affection comes and goes and I don't feel like I can pull for them too hard since they're division rivals but I really do like them. I've enjoyed watching Jason Spezza develop over the last couple of years. As a fan of defensemen, I'm super envious of Anton Volchenkov. And I love, love, love watching Dany Heatley play. He's a bit of a Sabres killer and he completely terrifies me when he has the puck but he's amazing. Love. him.

I think the rivalry between the two teams took a downward turn for some people after the brawl in February which is unfortunate. For the last couple of seasons, Buffalo-Ottawa games were always exciting games between two skilled teams playing similar styles. And unlike some rivalries, the two fanbases seemed to have some respect for each other and most back-and-forth was good-natured. I noticed a lot more sniping from both sides during the playoffs last season. I'm curious to see if any of the bad blood carries over now that Chris Drury is no longer a Sabre.

Just so no one thinks I'm going all soft on them however, here are a few things I don't like about Ottawa:
- Ray Emery. I'm so over him.
- Bryan Murray. No good explanation. He's very good at what he does but something about him gets under my skin.
- Chris Neil. No, I would not like him if he were on my team. Please stop telling me that.
- Daniel Alfredsson. You know how sometimes an otherwise decent, enjoyable guy does one thing that, fair or not, kind of ruins him for you forever? That's how I feel about Daniel Alfredsson. When he blatantly boarded Henrik Tallinder during the Conference Finals last year, I was upset. When he accused Hank of embellishing the hit in order to get a call - like the freakin' hit didn't deserve a call in the first place - and then questioned how hurt he really was, I was pretty furious. This is not Derek Roy. Tallinder hardly ever gets knocked off his feet, has broken his arm twice in similar situations, and has absolutely no reputation whatsoever for whining or embellishing. He barely shows any emotion on the ice. The hit was bad enough but I could maybe overlook it since it was the heat of the playoffs. But the comments, pushed me over the edge. I thought they were totally classless. Am I judging Alfredsson more harshly because Hank is my favorite player? I'm sure I am. Is it unfair to hold something like that against Alfredsson for so long? Probably. But hey, being totally irrational about certain things is part of being a fan. This is one of my things.

"It's okay, Trainer Guy, I'm totally trying to get a call. Did it work?"

Anyway...

Confession Number Two - I'm not scared of the Ottawa Senators.
I should be. Their record is not an accident. They have a very good number one line, decent secondary scoring, a goalie who's playing very well, and a great team defense. I love their defense. We couldn't buy a goal right now, our top line is barely visible, and we still have a couple of important injuries. But I don't know, I'm not as worried about this game as most people seem to be. Maybe I'm adjusting to watching a struggling team. Maybe it's the low expectations. If they're not expected to win, how can we be disappointed if they don't? If they do win, well, good for them! Maybe that'll turn the season around! And you never know... Maybe this is what the kids have been waiting for. They've been slowly righting the ship - the defense has improved, the effort has increased, most of the forwards are playing better, Ryan has looked much more solid in goal. Maybe the chance to right the terrible play in the playoffs last year will get them to finally focus and pull everything together at one time.

Or maybe I'm just crazy.

So in my continued efforts to tell off the Hockey Gods, I'm calling the game for Buffalo now. Final score 3-2, goals by Vanek, Pominville, and Roy, one of them on the powerplay. I totally reserve the right to delete this last paragraph later if need be.

Victory!

In honor of NaBloPoMO, I'll be attempting to post something every day in November. If you're not checking in every day, make sure you're catching all the posts! This one barely counts as a post but hey, it's my blog...

I just got home from the game and I'm crazy tired so I don't have the energy to write much about it. (Short story: It was a pretty lousy game from both teams but a win is a win is a win.) Read yesterday's entry if you haven't already and enjoy this adorable photo of Henrik Tallinder and Clarke MacArthur celebrating Clarke's game-winning goal. We'll talk in more detail tomorrow.

Happy Anniversary!

If I could take a moment to share a personal, mostly non-hockey related note... I would just like to wish my husband Marky Mark a happy anniversary. That's right, eight years ago today we were united in holy matrimony. I wrote a little bit about our relationship and how hockey has played a part in it in the entry Love and Marriage: Hockey Style! so I won't repeat myself now.

But here's a little bit about Mark. I decided it would be really cool to take a picture of us in our styling jerseys (me: vintage Tallinder, him: slugified Stafford) to post along with this entry. But I got this idea around 11:00 last night when he was trying desperately to go to bed. Instead of complaining or insisting that it wait until morning, he dutifully pulled his jersey on and then stood around while I tried to figure out where I could place the camera so that it would capture the photo.

Sit in this chair. That's not gonna work, all I can see is the top of your head.
Try standing up. Nope, all I can see is the slug.
Ooh, maybe if I put the camera here, it'll work. Nope, still a little too low. Hey, do you know of a book about this thick? Then it would be perfect.
Wait, that one's too thick.

And even when I found the right height (for the curious: the spice rack, DC Comics Encyclopedia, and two of the big Harry Potter books), the dance continued.
Crap, I forgot my glasses. I look stupid without them.
No, that one was really blurry. I think I moved the spice rack when I hit the timer button.
Ugh. Terrible.

Through it all, Mark remained calm, collected, and extremely patient.


Okay, so everyone has his breaking point.

Happy anniversary, buddy!

Why I Love Hockey - Part 26

Why I Love Hockey #26 - Playoff Beards
One of the first things I loved about hockey was the tradition of playoff beards. You could say it's oddly symbolic - for the next untold number of weeks, we care about hockey above all else and we will show that by not paying attention to what happens to our faces during that time! - but mostly it's a dumb boy bonding thing. And I can get behind that. Hey, whatever works, fellas.

A couple of years ago when the Houston Astros made it to the World Series, some of them grew playoff beards. Despite Jeff Bagwell being a great example of a transformative beard (more on that later), this definitely did not work for me. First of all, the baseball playoffs are pretty short. They start and end in the same month, more or less. What kind of beard can a guy grow in that time? Certainly not one to rival a beard that's grown over the course of the NHL playoffs, a journey so long that it's practically a season unto itself.

The Astros also looked suspiciously like they were trimming their beards every night which is just a crime. I feel very strongly that this goes against the playoff beard code. The very best playoff beard resembles some kind of nest by the end of the postseason. You start growing that sucker and you go with it. If your beard turns out to be gray or oddly colored or especially wiry or poofy, then own it, baby. Let Scott Niedermayer (2006-2007) be your beacon.

I always enjoy seeing which players can grow beards and which ones can't. Jason Pominville was the youngest guy on his line last season and one of the youngest guys on the team but his beard put Jochen Hecht's little goatee and Daniel Briere's soul patch and dusting of fuzz to shame. (Can't you just picture Playoff Briere with a beret and long cigarette holder?) Some players - Paul Gaustad and Chris Drury - seem to sprout full beards pratically overnight though I suspect Drury is a :::gasp::: trimmer. Some guys are forced to work with what little they can get.


The last fun thing about playoff beards is comparing the before and after. Some guys look terrible with their playoff scruff. If I met Ryan Miller in downtown Buffalo during the conference finals, I would fully expect him to be shaking a tin cup and swearing at me after I refused to give him any money. The patchy beard along with the scraggly hair - especially the sweaty post-game hair - was not a good look. (This image is helped along by the fact that as far as I can tell, Ryan dresses like a homeless man.)

On the flip side, you have the transformative beard. If I were related to Brian Campbell in any way - parent, sibling, cousin, girlfriend, friend, gardener - I'd be begging him to keep a full beard all year round because he looks so much better with it. It's truly amazing. Let's compare, shall we?

Here's regular season Brian Campbell. Cute enough but you know, kinda dorky.

Here's postseason Brian Campbell, suddenly a dashingly handsome young man.

We'll close this increasingly frustrating post (#!@##@!@ Blogger and the $#@!@#$ images) with this, my favorite playoff beard, J.P. Dumont, 2005-2006. J.P's beard was truly a thing of beauty - full, thick, and clearly untouched by scissors or razors. He also had that awesome phenomenon going on where his beard consisted of three or four different shades of color, including streaks of bright red. If I'd seen J.P. in downtown Buffalo around the time of the conference finals, I would've crossed the street to avoid him. That's how awesome it was. This picture, while slightly frightening, does not do it justice. Trust me.

Random Musings of a Cluttered Mind

A collection of subjects that have very little to do with each other:

- First up, I need to make sure that everyone knows Sportsquee's Buffalo Sabres Squee-View is now up. Margee's blog is one of the funniest, most entertaining blogs on the internet and one of my very favorite reads. And I'm not just saying that because she named Henrik Tallinder the team's MVSquee.

- During a postgame conference during the playoffs, Lindy Ruff mentioned that he had a theory about why Maxim Afinogenov was struggling and said maybe he'd share that theory after the season was over. Today, he finally let us in on it. You can read the whole story here, but here it is in a nutshell:

“Max, while warming up playing soccer in the playoffs, flipped over backwards and hit his head on the concrete before Game Three in Long Island,” Ruff said, “and I don’t think he was right for a little while after that.”

With the knowledge that Max didn't really do any permanent damage to himself, I have to say this is one of the funniest things I've ever heard. It's been many years since I've played soccer so I could be fuzzy on how the game works but how the heck do you land on your head playing a game that's about keeping the ball in the air? I desperately need someone to do a little more investigating into this story. And the quote from Vanek - "He fell straight back on his head,” Sabres winger Thomas Vanek said of Afinogenov’s spill. “Once he went down, we quit immediately" - cracks me up for some reason. In my head, Max decides to get all showy, ignores the fact that they're playing on concrete and attempts one of those upside down bicycle kicks. He lands head first and the other boys start freaking out, trying to figure out what to do. And then they hear Lindy coming and freeze for a long second before scattering in every direction, leaving Lindy to find a moaning, barely conscious Max with a soccer ball at his feet. Sometimes I'm just overwhelmed by affection for these guys.

- Mark and I went to the scrimmage tonight along with his mom, sister, and nephew. Mark was rooting for the Blue Team since that's where Drew Stafford was while I was pulling for Team Gold. Alas Team Gold got shellacked, 10-4 although they did win the shootout. I don't really have much to note about the game itself other than the fact that the Kotalik-Connolly-Pominville line looked really good. They didn't connect for any goals but Timmy just sent them beautiful set-up after beautiful set-up. Timmy, Hank may have knocked you off the Favorite Sabre pedestal, but I'm still super happy to see you back on the ice.

Anyway, I was pretty distracted by this:

I realize this might sound a little hypocritical coming from a girl who took the time to Paint Shop hearts all over a picture of Henrik Tallinder but... this is pathetic. Maybe - maybe - I could excuse a 14-year-old girl, but the woman wearing this jersey was definitely old enough to know better. Seriously, how do you place an order for that jersey without feeling ridiculous much less actually wear it in public? My favorite thing is that I feel pretty sure that if Ryan Miller saw this, he'd immediately assume this woman was a freak. I gave Mark very strict instructions: If I ever come home with a jersey that says MRS. HANK, punch me in the head until I come to my senses.

- And finally... I've been pretty mum about the Teppo Numminen suspension here, mostly because I feel like I've been talking about it ad nauseum on other blogs. But I will say this: I understand that it was a business decision. No matter how many other examples people give - Lemieux, Fisher, Pisani - this situation is different and it has different salary and cap ramifications. I seriously doubt that the parties involved hadn't discussed Teppo's health problems and how they would affect his contract if a problem came up. Honestly, the only opinion I'm that concerned with is Teppo's and while he certainly has other things to worry about right now, he doesn't seem particularly surprised or upset by the suspension. He's talking very openly about returning to the Sabres if and when he's cleared and the Sabres are talking very openly about welcoming him back. It doesn't sound like any relationships have been soured or damaged. If Teppo's okay with it, then everything else is just noise.

That said...

I love that joke!

Seriously... I really like Teppo. Anyone who's cool enough to go to a Justin Timberlake concert with his much younger teammates - and cool enough that his much younger teammates would want him there - is aces in my book. I'm very nervous on his behalf. My father died of a heart attack when he was very young (38) and because I was so young (4) I only have very vague memories of him. Heart problems make me twitchy. Teppo gets razzed for being an old man, but in the real non-hockey world he's still a pretty young guy with a very young family and a lot of life left to live. My prayers and thoughts are definitely with you, Old Man, especially today.

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun (and Watch Hockey)

I'm sure that some of you probably felt a shift in the blogosphere early Sunday morning. That was the exact moment that Kate, Courtney, and I met up - in real life! - at HSBC Arena for the Sabres morning practice. "New" friends and real hockey? Does it get any better?

News and notes:

Kate mentioned this on her blog but I think it bears repeating: Andrew Peters had the largest cheering section by far. Who knew? He seems like a nice enough guy but the mind, it was boggled. And this was not two or three people making a lot of noise. It was two or three ROWS of people yelling, "Peters! Peters!" every time he stepped on the ice.

The one good thing about all the injuries last year was that I recognized a lot of the Rochester guys - as long as they were near us. When they were on the other side of the ice I lost track of them because they were wearing incorrect or duplicate numbers. We lost our rosters between practice and scrimmage ("Yes, I believe these two flimsy photocopies WILL hold our seats for us!") which led to us calling them ridiculous things like "Yellow 19" and "Baby Teppo." ("They gave away Teppo's number?! Those bastards!") And there were a handful of guys I'd never, ever heard of who I kind of feel were completely made up.

Every year there's one prospect who makes me say, "What is he, 12?" but this year there was a kid there who really looked to be 12. In addition to being baby-faced he was very small and underdeveloped. This kid made Derek Roy look big and studly. We were actually debating whether he belonged to a coach because he was working off to the side for most of the practice but then he started participating with the big boys. The guy behind us in the stands jumped in to tell it was Nathan Gerbe - I think the poor guy was worried that we really were going to pull out megaphone and yell, "YOU THERE IN THE RED JERSEY! PLEASE STATE YOUR NAME, AGE, AND CREDENTIALS!" but we were kidding mostly. For some reason I really didn't think it was Nathan Gerbe however and sure enough my amazing investigative skills led me to the discovery that it was actually Paul Byron. Byron is 18 and listed at 5'8" (which means he's probably 5'7" at the most) and an unbelievable 135 lbs. I have sixth grade students bigger than this kid! He didn't take part in any contact drills so I have no idea how strong he is but he definitely has wheels. He hung right in there with Timmy during one of those "skate around the pylons and then race to the puck" drills and even beat him once. (But seriously, click on the link and tell me he doesn't look 12.)

Mark: So who looked good?
Heather: Hank.
Mark:... Are we talking about the same thing?

I think our favorite drill was the one that featured two guys wrestling at center ice. Okay, I think the point was for the guy without a stick to use his body to push the other guy off the puck but it devolved quickly into wrestling. It was the most fun to watch because it seemed to bring out both the players' competitiveness and silliness. Tallinder and Stafford were particularly feisty with each other (go, Hank, go!) and before too long guys were getting in first shoves before the whistle, purposely tripping each other up, and giggling with glee when somebody went down on the ice. It was somehow manly and adorable.



Darcy Regier and Lindy Ruff were in the building, watching the team from across the arena. I thought it was a little curious that Lindy wasn't on the ice, but it was kind of neat watching them. They'd go through long stretches where they didn't say anything to each other and then all of a sudden they'd start having what seemed like a very involved conversation. ("Man, that Yellow 19 is very impressive. But what's with the 12-year-old?") Kate's gotten it in her head that not only should Darcy become a regular reader of our blogs, particularly mine since I'm a pretty determined Darcy apologist, he should sit down for a Top Shelf interview. I'm not sure he'd know how to handle being interviewed by someone who actually likes him and feels he's pretty good at his job at this point in his Buffalo tenure. Anyway, I told him I needed to talk to him before he left for the day and gave very clear directions as to where I was parked but he totally stood me up. Bastard! (Just kidding, Darcy! Call me!)


We decided that next year we're going to communicate with the players via post-its. It's sure to work. If someone slapped up a post-it in front of you, wouldn't you be curious enough to skate over and see what it said?

TIMMY,
YOU SHOULD GROW BACK YOUR HAIR SO YOU HAVE AN EXTRA LAYER OF PROTECTION ON THAT SOFT MELON OF YOURS.

SOUPY,
IF YOU QUIT SHAVING NOW YOU COULD HAVE A DECENT BEARD BY OPENING DAY. AND PLEASE DO SOMETHING WITH THAT HAIR. YOU'RE KILLING YOUR BEST PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES.

YO-YO,
GAMBLER SAYS HI!

TRI,
YOU CAN DO IT! YOU'RE A STAR! (Strictly encouraging for Tri.)

THOMAS,
CAN I BORROW TWENTY BUCKS?

I don't care what his listed height is, I'm sure Derek Roy is shorter than me. If I ever meet him in real life, I'll be far too shy to say anything, but I fully plan on sidling up next to him to see how we compare. And yes, I will start my hand on top of my head and move it to the top of his if need be. I need to know this.

So all in all, it was a great way to kill a few hours. Kate and Courtney were both awesome and I hope we get together again at some point. I was pleasantly surprised at how quickly we were comfortable with each other. And it was great to see hockey again! Sweet, sweet hockey!

Wait, the Season is Over? Are We Sure?

Congratulaions to the Stanley Cup Champion Ducks. I try not to be overly vindictive and I don't despise the Senators the way many in Buffalo seem to... but it was kind of fun watching them roll over in the finals, wasn't it? And for all the hate thrown at him, I'd much rather see Chris Pronger with the Cup than Chris Neil or Ray Emery. Punk or not, he's one of the best defensemen in the NHL and he certainly earned his championship on the ice.

The Stanley Cup presentation is the only sports championship that makes me cry every single year, even when it's not my team winning. (Last year is excluded because I didn't watch it. It wasn't really an anti-Carolina thing so much as last season was just really heart-breaking. I didn't watch much of the Finals at all.) First, there's the Cup itself, the greatest trophy in sports. Then there's the Cup going right to the players instead of the owner or GM. Seriously, Jim Irsay is a great owner (I guess) but did anyone really want to see him with the Super Bowl trophy? No. No, they wanted to see Peyton Manning and Marvin Harrison toting it around. Every player gets his time with the Cup, his little moment in the spotlight, skating around and hoisting that sucker over his head just like a little boy. This year there were three things in particular about the celebration that got me:


I adore all three of my brothers (usually) so I'm a total sucker for Scott taking less money to play with his little brother Rob. I love that when Rob finally, finally got to touch the Cup - he flatly refused to do so every time Scott won it with the Devils - it was handed to him by his big bro. (Sidenote: Everyone and their grandmother has mentioned it at this point, but kudos to Scott for one of the all-time great playoff beards. If I'm his wife, I'm shaving that sucker off and putting it in a scrapbook somewhere.)


I was already soft on Teemu Selanne because of the whole "I'm going to keep a childhood promise to 16 friends and fly them in to Anaheim and cover all their expenses" story. And of course there was the fact that he was this year's chosen beloved veteran who's never won a championship. But then he started getting choked up before he even touched the Cup. And then he took the Cup from Pronger and the tears started flowing more freely. And then one of his little guys leapt off the bench into his arms. And then he hugged his wife and completely fell apart, blubbering like a baby. I really can't recall athletes in other sports getting as visibly choked up about winning as hockey players often do and I love it.

But this... this made me lose it. Aftter seeing this I was as gone as Teemu.


Even now, just looking at this photo makes me a little emotional. I'm really surprised Giguere's story didn't get more attention during the Finals - I mean, how many times did they remind us during game 3 that Chris Neil was a new father? - but even without the constant reminders that his son Maxime has been through so much in his very, very young life already, seeing J.S. skate that little guy around the ice hit me square in the heart. And how beautiful is that photograph with the confetti raining down and the cast-off helemt? Gorgeous.

In closing, can we end the whole "Ugh, I can't believe the Stanley Cup is in CALIFORNIA" stuff already? Is Anaheim as a region going bonkers about the Ducks winning the way Ottawa or Edmonton or Buffalo might had their teams won? Hardly. But that doesn't mean the players are any less deserving and it doesn't mean the fans who were in the building or watching on TV are any less excited. I don't know if the Ducks winning is necessarily GOOD for the NHL, but it's certainly not BAD. So quit your whining!

More to come. I have to figure out what it is that hockey bloggers blog about in the off-season.

Captain Clutch

Geez. I am not sleeping tonight. More when I'm feeling coherent.

LET'S GO BUFF-A-LO!

:::clap, clap, clapclapclap:::


I'm off for the day - pizza and wings at La Nova, party in the plaza, hanging with some friends, and then off to game one with the hubby, my first playoff game ever. In case you can't tell from the (very unflattering) photo above, I'm stoked!

Go Sabres!

I went to my last regular season game last night. A co-worker was selling off some of her season tickets and I went in with a few buddies at work and bought a few games. Most fun thing ever! Here are my girls (Monica, Kathy, and Sue) celebrating after goal #4:



The first period was fantastic. The boys were doing everything they hadn't been doing consistently for a while - playing tight in the defensive zone, being aggressive and simple in the offensive zone, taking advantage of any and all mistakes made by the opposition - and it showed on the scoreboard. In the second period the Islanders came out a little bit stronger, particularly Jason Blake, and the Sabres went into lock-down mode which made for a really dull 20 minutes. I barely remember that period. I do however remember the third period because it was kind of ugly. The boys went back to some of the bad habits they've developed over the past couple of months - passing instead of shooting, trying to be too fancy, playing sloppy in their zone. Ryan also gave up his regular last minute goal - it's like he has an attention span of exactly 58 minutes and after that he's gone. Still... they hung on for the win.

Random observations: Chris Drury looked the most like himself he's looked since coming back from his concussion. Derek Roy is primed and ready for the playoffs. He's so much fun to watch. Henrik Tallinder got absolutely smoked on one of the Islander's power play goals which doesn't happen very often. I'm a little worried that his ankle is still bothering him. And with apologies to the Kalinin haters, Tri was once again one of the most solid players in the game. He's moving into playoff form as well, I think.

And Thomas Vanek. Geez. After his goal last night Monica and I looked at each other and said at the same time, "That was AWESOME." It was right in front of us so we had a great view. There was definitely skill involved but a lot of it was sheer effort. He wanted the goal and he was going to get it. Thomas handled his benching during last year's playoffs pretty maturely and he responded to it exactly the way he should have - he worked his ass off in the off-season and has improved just about every aspect of his game this season - but he's made it pretty clear that he didn't entirely agree with the benching. I'm hoping he carries a little bit of a chip on his shoulder about that into the post-season. I absolutely cannot wait to see what he does because man, it could be amazing. I hope to see him in Sabres blue and gold for a very long time.

Tonight: Montreal and potential clinching of first in the East.