Coaching Statesman

Legendary Hockey Institution JACK PARKER

Halfway through the third period of last Saturday's Big Red Hockey Classic at Madison Square Garden the video screen played an ancient clip from Lake Placid of Mike Eruzione's GWG vs the USSR. The ensuing image was a live shot of a rounder, balder and seemingly content Mike Eruzione, located about 10 rows behind the B.U. bench. A standing ovation followed, appropriate for all the baby-boomers who recalled that MSG was a critical footnote in the Miracle on Ice, the venue where Herb Brooks' charges got smoked 10-3 by the Soviets big red machine 10 days prior to the Winter Games.

The man known as "Ruz" has never strayed too far from the family of B.U. hockey, attending all the Beanpots, several NCAA games and even helped out as an associate coach for Jack Parker's club. Ruz had been captain of Parker's 1977 team who had gone to the Frozen Four in Detroit in 1977. A semifinal loss to host Michigan kept them from the NCAA championship, which they won the following year, a team without Ruz but with 3 other Miracle workers: Silk, O'Callahan and a goalie named Jim Craig. The point of this is that while Ruz looked a generation or two from his playing form, his coach was still at it, grinding out a wildly entertaining Holiday Festival win in the big Apple, 2-1 in overtime over a game Cornell club.

Eruzione played for JACKIE Parker, the brash coach with his signature plaid jacket who took over for the legendary Jack Kelly and never missed a beat, winning his own national championship in 1978 and again in 1995 and 2009. Now in his fifth decade at the helm of the Terriers, it's a more refined JACK Parker, lopping a syllable off his first name and planting the red plaid sports jacket in the back of the cedar closet. But never underestimate Parker's energy, his ability to process information or his knack for getting the best from stripe shirted officials. He still gets out three sentences in the time it takes you to utter one, and his passion for the game remains torrid.

At the conclusion of Red Hot Hockey, a Thanksgiving event that seems destined for a long run on Broadway, Parker had no intention of leaving the stage until he had shared celebratory waves with all four corners of yet another hockey Garden, 200 miles south of the Boston version where he wins Beanpot titles with such regularity. Perhaps the only downer of the night was that his coaching counterpart, Cornell's Mike Schafer, had blown off the traditional handshake, sulking off the ice without his team because he was upset over a disallowed goal in the third period.

Imagine a respected rival coach like BC's Jerry York pulling off a stunt like that--unthinkable. Boston hockey media would hold him accountable for years to come. When B.U. lost a crushing Beanpot consolation game last spring to Harvard--talk about unthinkable--Parker humbly stood in line to shake with Ted Donato. Schafer, a coaching institution in the isolated gorges of Ithaca, New York, should observe and learn from the class act of Parker, the elder statesman of Division I college coaches.

When it comes to Curing cancer, PUNT!

PUNTING ON A CURE

Saturday night I was watching the World Series at a local tavern with my fellow coach Duane after our team's hockey game.

Major League Baseball has embraced the MasterCard marketing campaign Stand Up for Cancer. If you've watched any TV recently you've probably seen celebrities getting involved being pictured holding their little placards with the name of a loved one affected by Cancer. What's not to like? Right?

Well my new buddy Duane, a 55 year old guy who's been around the block several times over, shakes his head, saying it's all a bunch of Bullshit.

"Really?," I say, knowing that Duane is a man devoted to family and God, hardly a radical cynic. But Duane rails on about the pink accessories that most of the NFL is wearing for the entire month of October to increase awareness of breast cancer, and he stated that it's all a ridiculous money grab. "Really?"

He proceeds to tell me what he has learned about Cancer, and the monumental finances at stake for the American Medical Association, the American Cancer Society, Big Pharmaceuticals and the whole medical industrial complex itself. He then told me an anecdotal tale about how he advocated for a loved one with cancer and how he located a doctor who had a practice in Texas with an amazing success rate battling cancer using holistic methods, mainly nutrition. How he got in touch with those close to the doctor and discovered that he was basically blackballed and chased out of the United States. The practice resurfaced in Tijuana, Mexico. Duane told me about how he had to sneak his uncle across the border for treatments. I didn't take any notes, but Duane shared a lot he learned about dealing with cancer, and explained in layman terms how vital it is to battle it organically, to get one's body involved in the fight through boosting the immune system, and how chemo and radiation are so poisonous. I left thinking that he made a lot of sense, but that it was still his passion, not mine.

The next night I'm watching the World Series over at my ex-wife's house with my son with his step-family, and see a huge TV pitch for Stand Up for Cancer integrated into the live telecast, more immediate and impacting than a paid commercial. I didn't have enough facts or passion to tell the living room audience that Stand Up for Cancer is simply an exploitive money grab. But it was impossible not to think about it after previous night's conversation with coach Duane.

I bid farewell around 10 pm and began scanning radio channels during my drive home. I landed on an independent station in New York, and as if on cue, one of those fundraisers was going on where they play clips from a documentary as an enticement to contribute. I sat in rapture as I heard the century-long history of how the American Medical Association has been demonizing holistic Cancer cures to boost the profits of their publication and the medical industry as a whole. They spoke at length about a Dr. Gerson who was having some amazing results curing cancer mainly through nutrition, but only one of his many studies got published before the magazine was threatened and Gerson was blackballed. The documentary went on about how advocates for Gerson used the Freedom of Information Act to read the alleged findings of medical malfeasance by Gerson and other holistic doctors, only to find that the report didn't exist, even though it was being cited frequently by an AMA "assasin" Dr. Fishbein.

The report continued, detailing the demise of Dr. Gerson, and how he and his practice had to flee to Mexico. I was almost sickened to learn how humanity's #1 killer has been subjugated by the medical industrial complex to keep the massive profits flowing. The documentary and coach Duane's bar spiel were in perfect concert. The documentary spoke so logically about how mainstream treatment for cancer: cutting, chemo and radiation; hasn't changed in the better part of a century. There's simply too much money at stake for any change. The documentary actually quoted doctors as saying there was no way that a solution based on nutrition was going to replace traditional cancer treatments because of the financial implications.

I got out of my car at the end of the documentary clip, and looked into the night sky filled with stars, a glowing universe. Here we are on this planet, a planet that provides us with the natural remedies to fight this disease, and our country's lust for profits systematically run people with the knowledge to cure, people like Dr. Gerson, out of town, out of state, out of the country.

Uggh. Hard to swallow.

Larussa speaks to both sides of the border

LaRUSSA GOES BI

In one of the great moments in TV sports for reasons of cultural inclusion, Tony Larussa complies with Houston reporter Francisco's (SportsRap is efforting to get his name and affiliation)request to have Larussa comment in Spanish on his choice to use Mexican-born Jamie Garcia to start Game 2 of the series. Garcia rightly called it historic, mentioning Fernando Valenzuela in the same breath, saying that Larussa would be speaking to Hispanic baseball fans on both sides of the border. Larussa complied with competent, if not fluent, Spanish.

http://multimedia.foxsports.com/m/video/47154100/la-russa-answers-in-spanish.htm

This is yet another feather in the cap of a man enjoying the pinnacle of a very difficult profession.

Down on Wall Street

Middle Age Mike Journeys Down to Wall Street to be Heard

On the same day in which a Wall Street financier goes public in the New York Times dismissing the Wall Street "Occupants" as simply unemployed kids looking for sex drugs and rock and roll, Zuccotti Park was teeming with Baby Boomers, getting the word out with a vast array of signs and plenty of "hoarse power," maintaining momentum for a protest with no cause that has seeming gone viral. It's global now, and apparently can't be dismissed. Where it leads, no one knows, but there is seemingly limitless human energy behind it.

There is love and good will and altruism everywhere one turns at the Park. Locals are having a tough time dealing with 12 hours of daily drumming, bathroom issues, bathing in sinks and other symptoms of overpopulation. But the Occupation continues. Young and old, black and white, male and female. Can it be ignored?

Occupation Wall Street

It
DIMITRI Fresh from a night in the Pokey

It was a classic fall Sunday in lower Manhattan, and unless you were within a block of Liberty Square, you might have missed the Occupation that the participants are calling "Living History." Despite hundreds of arrests the night before, the scene was completely peaceful, with Police keeping an eye on the Occupation HQ and special police liaisons in light blue NYPD golf shirts doing their best to maintain peaceful dialogue.
(Link to Photos
http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.2015289108684.2095731.1437532070&type=1)
or just hit my name on Facebook

They aren't fools, just fellow disenfranchised citizens. No, they can't articulate any demands, because the western banking system is simply too complex. Michael Lewis said as much on Charlie Rose Monday night, but he did agree that they this Occupation may have legs. Much of it is due to vast unemployment of American youth, and a resentment of the investor class that is getting unlimited backing from our government with taxpayer money.

Mainstream media is marginalizing this group, but underground media via social networking has created a buzzing hive of fresh information.
http://occupywallst.org/
Attitudes were all upbeat, people getting on board, not sure where they're going, but most don't have jobs to return to. A microcosm of modern America, 99% of a country adrift.

End of Tito's Reign?

It has been a week now since Terry "Tito" Francona has gotten any real sleep. This past month he has endured more stress than most of us will encounter in a lifetime. He got into Baltimore Monday night around 3 AM, and after that night's excruciating loss to the Orioles it was reported that he never returned to the hotel, wandering the streets of Edgar Allen Poe in the humid gloam.

On Wednesday afternoon, prior to the Red Sox last act on the field in their historic collapse of 2011, he made his obligatory appearance on WEEI sports radio in Boston. Although typically polite, there were two remarkable moments of live radio. 1) He was asked twice about returning to Boston--did he hope that Theo and company would pick up his option? This was his chance to say all the right things about the organization and that of course he hoped to have his job back. Uncomfortable silence, and then he said he couldn't answer, that this wasn't the time and place, and that all his energy was needed to help the Sox on the field. Hosts Michael Holley and Mikey Adams made the question simpler and more direct, and again the pause, this time longer. He ducked the chance to declare his desire to remain a member of Red Sox Nation.

2) Mohegan Sun has a sponsored segment within the sponsored segment. They encourage fans to submit a question for the manager, the best questions make air, and the individual who submits the best of the best gets to spend an evening at the Casino with Tito, including a glamorous dinner with the skip. Wednesday's entry went like this: "Based on the fact that the Sox did so poorly at the start of the year AND the finish, should you have been tougher on the players." Francona dismissed the question, saying it's the worst he had heard. Holley countered, "Actually, it's at the top of our list right now." Francona stepped out of his polite veneer. "You tell him if he wins, that I'm not coming." He repeated his vow to make sure everyone realized he wasn't kidding, and got off the line and returned to his game prep in Baltimore, a game that could very well be his last in a Boston uniform.

After decades of being the underfunded underdog to Stenibrenner's machine, the Red Sox, the "Old Towne Team," are now the spending fools of major league baseball. During this past weekend's drubbing in the Bronx, Yank's GM Brian Cashman essentially made fun of the Red Sox pursuit of the grossly underachieving Carl Crawford this past off-season, saying that he made a bid on last year's prize free agent just to drive up the price , and that his left fielder Brett Gardner performs the same role at a savings of $10 million per. The Crawford debacle is not even the Sox greatest headache. The team is stuck with petulant John Lackey for 3 more years, grossly overpaid, underachieving and downright rude every time he coughs up the ball to Francona after each brutal performance. You can't blame Francona for not wanting to return to a clubhouse with Lackey in it, the number one scapegoat of this infamous season.

Sox Geo Theo Epstein and the Red Sox acts of horrible overspending, simply because they could, makes them the team other franchises snicker at when they fail, sort of the anti-Money Ball team. This is ironic because they were the club that hired Bill James and were the original subscribers to S.A.B.R.E.-metrics, finding undervalued ballplayers based on computer stats. Now they are the poster-children for overpaid underperformers. Hopefully that will not tarnish the reputations of Jacoby Elsbury, Dustin Pedroia and Alfredo Aceves, who were downright heroic in defeat, battling beyond fatigue as the ship sank from beneath their feet.

There will be scapegoats, and it would be surprising if Francona survives a collapse that will go down in history, in a city that prides itself for its history. And although 2011 will forever be compared to the 1978 Sox club that squandered a 13 game lead in July to the charging Yanks, the 78 club went down fighting, winning their final 10 in a row to force a playoff, culminating in a single game of epic proportions. 2011 was the equivalent of a medieval patient being bled to death. The Red Sox did not win two games in a row since an August 27 double header against Oakland. Over 5 weeks of baseball without consecutive wins. A team that had the local Bean-eaters bragging that it was the best of all time.

Their horrendous start and finish is evidence a slick GM could use against a manager whose contract is up. Someone to be offered in sacrifice for a freaked out Red Sox nation that consists of 5 and 1/2 New England states. There is a bright side for Francona, however, he'll probably get to duck his obligatory meal with a Sox sycophant up at Mohegan Sun. There is no supporting evidence that the initials of the fan who submitted the question to WEEI's Big Show were "T.E."

Australian Twist

Sam Stosur dismissed an irresistable force...with a TWIST!

The Twist, originally known as the Autralian Twist, is a bitch of a serve. As a righthander trying to return Stosur's righty twist, it takes a long sweeping arc away from your forehand, and then kicks back into the body. Good ones really "bite" into the cement, reversing direction and giving the returner fits.

Sadly, Stosur's serve and overall demolition of Serena at the U.S. Open women's final got little attention compared to the Serena Tantrum. Stosur's match point forehand is now being referred to as "The OTHER Forehand," and her monumental upset is now a footnote to "The Tantrum." Great story obscured. Pity.

Sharapova

The once and future U.S. Open champ fights off a spirited Brit, and the Wimbledon champ Kvitova gets washed out of her quarter. All in a days work.

Adventure on Indian Mountain

Nestled in the base of the southernmost Taconic Mountain is the Indian Mountain School, and the home base for the challenge course construction/inspection/facilitation empire, Indian Mountain Adventure, founded and directed by IMA president Steve Werntz.
The climbing tower pictured above is the rock of his high elements: a sturdy construction with plenty of redundant safety elements, like guy wires extending from all three telephone poles that are the foundation of the tower.

Unfortunately, a construction backhoe violated the 14 foot standard and ruptured the guy wire, wreaking havoc on the seemingly impenetrable climbing tower (see top plank on photo). Werntz and trusty sidekick (yours truly) spent the beautiful pre-Irene Friday morning scrambling up the tower and sawing and prying lumber, but were unable to budge the damaged upper platform.

Fast forward to Friday afternoon and Werntz is hoisting the platform with his truck via rope and pulley, with yours truly trying to surf the platform like a fool while clipped into upper belay cables. No broken bones, (sheer luck), but the platform only went about a third of the way down. Quitting time rolled around and I abandoned the job with a beautiful case of lip salad (thanks to an errant twist of the lineman's tool which flew into my mush) but no satisfaction because the job was as much of a mess as my face: a 200 pound triangular platform wedged into the inner walls, 15 feet above the ground. Sorry, but I wasn't going to hang under it with a chainsaw when I needed to be dashing home for dinner with my lads.

I found out later from the founder that his dutiful brother gave one of those ropes a yank while the fearless leader had the other rope coiled on his arm. Gravity won out, as the platform crashed down within feet of dutiful bro. Super Steve got yanked like a ragdoll, landing with a skid on his nose. Werntz has cancelled a month's worth of work as a body double for Jamie Farr due to his crash landing. But it could have been worse: the platform came down on schedule, and no paperwork was submitted to insurance bureaucrats. Gotta love happy endings for the aptly name Indian Mountain ADVENTURE.

Cup final say

If you were a hockey kid in Wood River Valley, you'll never forget Lord Stanley's Vist

I guess it was all about camaraderie and purpose. Two of the legends of Sun Valley suns hockey, Cub and Hunts, members of the so-called Mount Rushmore according to the creative Kurt Wenzell, succeeded in generating huge buzz and decent dollars for the life and health of high end amateur hockey in the Wood River Valley. It is difficult to quantify what was accomplished at this writing, but I suspect years from now that August 21 and 22, 2011 will be the genesis of a Suns renaissance. If a new skating rink is constructed in the next few years, it will be no coincidence.

Hunts and Cub, 50-something hockey loving lifers, opposite sides of the same coin, shared in all chores in this immaculate production that resulted in, yes by all estimates, 10,000 photos of Lord Stanley. All the cool cats, plenty of rich nerds dining outside the Duchin room. and most important, EVERY hockey kid got their moment (or two) with Lord Stanley. In the 14 miles from working class Bellevue to the Sun Valley Resort, not one place was missed, and some were found. And in the wake of the silver 1966 convertible Mustang was a flowing river of smiles and good will, none wider than contemporaries of Cub n Hunts, the setting Suns that had convened for a national hockey championship tournament 5 months prior. To reunite again solidified a camaraderie forged by hockey with a magical 24-hour Cup date. It was the ultimate Flomax commercial, baby-boomer bliss, our own beer commercial, only better.

Keep an eye out for hockey prospects coming out of the Wood River Valley over the next decade, the ripples from this visit by Lord Stanley will surely resonate.

Hawk lands in Canada...OOPS!

Joyous reunion of setting suns

Stanley rolls onto SV ice

Grumpy gets the ultimate Schooner

Cup handed over to Beets

Cubby Burke channels Bobby Orr

Hawk Jeneson describes adventure

Two trophies

Sunday with Lord Stanley

It's not over yet, put Phase I of the Stanley Cup's tour through the Sun Valley, Idaho area was a testament to organization and execution by former Sun Valley Suns Glenn Hunter and John "Cubbie" Burke. By enlisting pilot and former teammate Hawk Jeneson to fly the Cup from British Columbia, Bruins equipment manager Beets Johnson got extra Wood River hours with the most famous sports trophy in North America.

The first stage of the operation was the trickiest. Hawk Jeneson landed on the wrong side of the Canadian border for starters, and then discovered that the Stanley Cup didn't fit into his little four seater. Rather than spend several thousand dollars on a larger charter, Hawk scrambled for a screwdriver, removed the back seats and shoehorned Lord Stanley into the aircraft. After that turning point, all the pieces fell into place for an operation that was part Sun Valley Suns reunion and part campaign to stoke hockey interest in the Wood River Valley.

Lord Stanley rolled from Bellevue to Hailey to Sun Valley to Ketchum in a vintage 1966 silver Mustang convertable, stopping at establishments for nearly 8 consecutive hours before being shut down at the stroke of midnight with near surgical precision. There was a 2 hour break for a generous party. The proprietors will all hear from Burke and Hunter later in the year when its time to round up financial support necessary keep Suns hockey alive and well.

Beets Johnson, the man who was responsible for the Cup coming to Ketchum because of his contributions to the Boston Bruins Cup victory, was the perfect escort on this mission, a gentle man with a kind word and a selfless smile for each and every encounter. He had no private time with the Cup Sunday, but never appeared to mind, moving from spot to spot, selling his sport to a sporting crowd that embraced every stop.

Beets's decades-long association with the Sun Valley Suns amateur team made his Cup session a team affair, with Suns players from the 1970's to present apparating at landmarks like Whiskey Jacques and the Pioneer Saloon. Suds flowed all night, but the Stanley Cup chalice remained dry. In a town known for wild exuberance, the Cup was treated with the dignity befitting a celebrity, hockey's grandest one at that. It would not be an exaggeration that more than 10,000 photos were taken with the Cup over the 8 hours.

Here's a link to my Facebook photo Album:
http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=1909199696515&set=a.1909199456509.2091906.1437532070&type=1&theater

SportsRap will post an ensuing collection of video vignettes from Sunday's amazing day in Wood River Valley. Some will have more relevance than others based on the viewer's familiarity with the characters. Enjoy!

Cup Odyssey "Cupdate"

Got into Boise @ 1:45 am MT; Craig at Hertz stayed late and saved my bacon. Crashed in Boise with fellow setting Sun Mark Broz, who fetched me and led me into his desert-like canyon for a 5 hour crash. Am now waiting in Ketchum for Suns gang to head down to Hailey airport to hook up with Hawk who is flying with Cup in from Johnny Bucyck's retreat in BC. Hawk is currently on airfield trying to explain to border guards why he is on the wrong side of the border. I like Hawk's chances...having a legitimate claim on Lord Stanley for a day should help his cause.

Big anticipation for Monday dawn trip to the top of Mount Baldy with Lord Stanley. Decent photo op is expected. Will walk it if necessary...ha ha. Elevation 10,000 plus.

Stay tuned for more updates over the next 24 hours. Pictures, moving and still, to follow.

Cup chase

Hangin in Newark Int'l, flight to CHI delayed which will tighten up my connection to Boise. Found a free WiFi spot next to McDonalds so I can chirp away the hours. Taking a couple of days to return to Sun Valley; this time there's a good excuse to carouse with the old gang---Lord Stanley will be dropping in. Yes, North America's most famous trophy comes to Wood River Valley thanks to Bruins equipment manager and former Sun Valley Suns player Beets Johnson. When the B's got to the finals the buzz amongst the boys that if the Bruins won and granted Beets his day he should spend it in Ketchum. They did, they granted, Beets chose Ketchum over Duluth, and I took the bait. I mean really, what hockey playing fan wouldn't want to party with Lord Stanley and the elder Sun Valley Suns? The fact that we all enjoyed a reunion this April at the USA Hockey national championships makes it an easier fit. I just need the travel Gods to cooperate, which is no slam dunk.

l'll post photos and quotes and maybe a g-rated video or two. should be fun. If it's not fun, then that's your story.

What's with Sun Valley? I played there for two years after college in the very early 1980's, came back several times with East coast teams the next few years, including 1991 in which I eloped with my current ex-wife. Have made 3 or 4 trips back since, but not in the last 8 years. This one should be a doozy. A lot of the old gang is still around (emphasis on OLD), some in respectable positions, some in the gutter, all with stories to tell. Hopefully I'll be paying attention.

A leopard and his spots

After seeing Andre's remarkable induction performance at the Hall of Fame in Newport, one can logically deduce that the guy has found Jesus and become an amazing human, a complete 180 degree shift from his early days on the tour. Yet he still has issues with Pete. He ripped him in his book as a cheapskate, quoting hearsay about being a $1. tipper, and then driving that point home in a televised doubles exhibition. (see link below)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4QSK9t6OrgU

Then, at the H.O.F. banquet, a few hours after blowing away a packed house in Newport with his theme of giving back, he concedes he's loaded, then drops an F-bomb describing Pete. So, exactly how much has Andre evolved from his days of being an immature, spoiled punk on tour? The more things change...

Tale of two 'tenders

They could not be more unlike, Tim Thomas and Roberto Luongo, other than the fact that they squared off as starting goalies in an epic Stanley Cup final. Thomas grew up in the rust belt of Flint, MI; toiling in obscurity for Davison high school as an 18 year old before getting a break to play at University of Vermont. Luongo spent his teenage years starring in the Quebec Major Junior League, a goaltender's breeding ground that produced goaltending immortals like Patrick Roy (4 Cups) and Martin Brodeur (3). Roberto was the "next one", the first goalie chosen in the 1997 draft, the goalie to build teams around, the goalie that could get an executive's name engraved on Lord Stanley's Cup. Luongo was 6'3" with an octopus-like reach. Thomas was a stumpy 5'11". Luongo was drafted 4th overall, Thomas 217th. Luongo was the hottest item at the Young Stars junior showcase at Maple Leaf Gardens after Joe Thornton; Thomas was scoffed at by scouts because of his unorthodox style, even though he was an NCAA All-American at Vermont. Luongo became a regular at All-Star Games by 2004; Thomas was still toiling in Europe in 2005, having had a mere 4 games of NHL experience. In 2005 Thomas completed his third tour playing for Jokerit Helsinki, 11 years after being drafted by Colorado, seemingly a lifetime ago. He is quoted as saying he would have been happy playing his entire career in Finland. He was 31 years old at the time.

Meanwhile Luongo found himself getting moved a lot. Mike Milbury and the Islanders got sweet on another goalie, trading away their franchise goalie and several other assets to clear the way for their latest love interest Rick Dipietro. The Panthers got Roberto, and flipped him to Vancouver. He was always the girl with the curl, incredibly attractive to whomever was not with him. His reputation, based on size and breeding, always had him near the top of all goalie discussions, yet he led no one to any Championships. He made Canada's 2006 Olympic Team, but split a couple of games as Canada failed to earn a medal in Torino, let alone defend their gold. In his 7th year as a pro he was 27 years old and joining his 3rd NHL team. Not once had he had a sniff of hockey's Holy Grail.

Meanwhile, Tim Thomas got his shot with the Bruins as a 30-something goalie, a backup in 2005-06 following the NHL's missed season. His time in Finland had kept him sharp and he made a serviceable NHL goalie. The following year he became a starter, after a decade tuning his craft around the world. His numbers were good, not great, but he showed a spirited work ethic which appealed to Boston's lunch-pail Boston hockey culture. At age 33, he had found a professional home, and a platform from which to launch an amazing late-life run at pro-hockey greatness.

In Vancouver, Luongo was again the great tease, making two All-Star teams, getting to conference finals, but ultimately failing when the games mattered most. Pro scouts and GM's had discovered a chink in his professional armor--Luongo had a poor glove hand. The whispers were getting louder--Vancouver had a one-armed goalie.

Thomas, on the other hand, was impossible to define, other than being a fiercely competitive athlete. He flopped here, dove there, and stretched his 5'11" frame beyond physical limits to prevent goals, more on instinct than form. His style goes against the NHL's Quebec-driven ideal standard that limits movement to a minimum, simply let the puck hit you and just take up space. But the All-Star voters didn't care, they placed Thomas in the mid-season All-Star game in 2008 and he hasn't missed one since. He's been the winning goalie in the last three. For those of you who believe in hockey Gods (all of us, right?), they appear to have been won over by the Tim Thomas perseverance. He fought his way but lost valiantly in the 7th Game of the 2nd round of the 09 playoffs, winning the Vezina trophy at year's end. The next season he won the Winter Classic and was named to the USA Olympic team in the post game ceremony at Fenway Park. The kid from Flint was in the spotlight, giving amazingly frank and thoughtful press conferences after each amazing chapter of his rags to riches story. At the Vancouver Games, Thomas was relegated to bench in favor of Olympic MVP Ryan Miller, and he watched Luongo take on Miller in the riveting gold medal game. Luongo survived two soft goals, allowing the Yanks to send the gold medal game into overtime, before Syd Crosby won the gold for Canada. It was a source of redemption for Luongo, the goalie who couldn't solve the Chicago Blackhawks in the playoffs. He finally had something tangible--an Olympic gold medal--to show for a decade-long title of being goaltending's "Next One." Two months later he failed once again against the Blackhawks, and Vancouver had to contemplate the unthinkable--was Luongo the man for the job?

Thomas had his own adversity to deal with in the form of a nagging hip injury. He found himself on the bench in yet another historic clash, as he watched the Bruins 4-game collapse against the Flyers. In the NHL's 2010 opening game in the Czech Republic, Thomas was the Bruins overpaid backup goalie, and no one would have been surprised if this were the end of the line for a guy who had clearly over-achieved. Three All-Star games, a Vezina trophy and an Olympic Silver. Pretty nice booty for a NHL career started when many are retiring. But this is where the Thomas magic begins to show itself more prominently. He admitted that prior to the 2010-11 season he had a vivid dream, a dream where he was hoisting the Stanley Cup. It's one thing to talk about these dreams a generation after one's childhood, but to put it out there as a 36 year old backup coming off of major hip surgery, that comes from a guy comfortable in his own skin.

And the season was magical for Thomas. By November his role as backup to Tukuu Rask was replaced with MVP talk. Thomas was setting new NHL save percentage records and carrying the Bruins on his back. Rask, who was scarred by the collapse against the Flyers the pervious spring, was only too happy to carry Thomas's water. Luongo was leading the NHL in wins, and the Canucks finally had all their pieces in place. Two first-place teams marched through the playoffs, the Bruins overcame a scare against Montreal and then vanquished the Flyers; Luongo stared down the Blackhawks after facing a potential disaster in overtime of game 7.

So finally they met, two veteran goalies who prepped for the NHL on both sides of the Quebec/Vermont border. The utiltarian Michigander who was enjoying a magical career after his 35th birthday; and the anointed one from Quebec, finally ready to get his name engraved on the Cup alongside Roy and Brodeur, the inevitable succession.

The games were fascinating studies in the two goalies: Luongo outplaying Thomas by a shade in tight contests in Vancouver, Thomas being impenetrable in Boston with Luongo completely lost away from home. After losing game two in overtime, critics pounced on Thomas's style, which caused to the winning goal because he had wandered too far. Thomas held his ground. "Not changing a thing." Nuff said.

Luongo, meanwhile took major lumps giving up a dozen goals in two games in Boston. He was given a choice whether to come out in Game 3 after giving up 4 second period goals. He chose to stay in, and gave up another 4 spot in the third. 4-goal periods became a signature for Luongo's efforts in Boston. But his most notable act in the Finals, one that may define him historically, was the press-conference gaffe after game 5, a game in which Luongo made a case for being the best goalie in the game, shutting down the Bruins 1-0 to put the Canucks 1 game away from immortality. A reporter asked Roberto about the goal Thomas gave up, because he had again wandered too far from the crease, and incredibly, Luongo took the bait. "I would have saved it," said Luongo, pointing out that Thomas frequently wanders, making splashy saves but getting burned occassionally. Reporters smelled blood and followed up. And here was where Luongo committed media suicide. Commenting about breaking the goaltender's union code about commenting about each other, Luongo revealed his character. "I've been pumping his tires all series long," then adding that Thomas hasn't said anything nice about him. Roberto sounded like the spoiled, petulant child many fear he is. Thomas was asked to follow up in the ensuing media stampede. "I didn't know it was my job to pump his tires," said Thomas, honest and direct. Now Luongo had put all the pressure on himself.

As a fan, I was disappointed that there was no fan artwork in Boston Garden, caricatures of the two goalies on fat tired bikes, standing over bicycle pumps, huffing and puffing. I thought maybe the fans were too loaded to get out the water colors and paint some sheets with classic sports art, but a loyal reader mentioned that post 9/11 fans aren't allowed to bring in much of anything, whether it be a poster or a ham sandwich. Duly noted.

Luongo answered the pressure with his worst outing of the Finals, which had seen some wretched moments. 4 goals in under 4 minutes, including the first, an unobstructed wrist shot by Brad Marchand from the side hash marks that cleanly beat Roberto's invisible glove hand. A one-armed goalie. The rout was on. If he wasn't such a bloody wanker (as my friends from the BBC might say), you might have felt sorry for Luongo as he was chased from the game. He was replaced by a Boston area guy (yes, Winthrop, for all you Mike Eruzione fans) Cory Schneider, who technically, is a BETTER GOALIE than Luongo. Hey, how about that? The world's most expensive goalie, the goy who historically chokes with the best of them, is not as good as his backup. More on that later in the post mortem.

So it all comes down to Game 7, in Vancouver, where Luongo has been nearly impenetrable, and where he won his only career scalp, his Olympic gold, 15 months prior. Everything was positioned for him, had he been a champion. But he's not. Doesn't have the talent or the fortitude. Two goals in the first, one would have taken a miraculous save, but only because he was so deep in his crease. Maybe if he were at the top of the blue, Patrice's Bergeron's one-timer hits him. But being the cautious goalie he is, Luongo laid back and watched the puck careen off the far post, 1-0. Then the wraparound by Marchand was initially saved by Luongo, but in his exuberance to prevent the goal, his leg slammed into his glove, and dislodged the puck for goal number 2. First period and the best he Canucks could hope for was sending this game into OT 'cause Thomas was not about to give up 3 goals in regulation.

Then the piece de resistance in period 2. Bergeron again, bolts through neutral ice on a partial breakaway, got hauled down, Ref's arm goes up. A pile of bodies moving between 10 and 15 miles and hour towards the net, the puck somewhere in the mass of humanity. This is a Tim Thomas layup. Place your body in front of the moving train, brace yourself, the net will move if they are going to bust through you, because you are firmly square and braced for impact. This is basic instinct for Thomas-- sacrifice your person for the cause. Elemental. But not to Luongo. Just a different value system for the anointed one. Putting your person in harm's way is not part of his daily life equation.

Bergeron, playing two series past suffering a serious concussion, blasted through Luongo with the puck before him. Roberto did a bit of a matador, and then began pointing that the puck must have been thrust in illegally. No sale. 3-0. Game over, season over. Roberto left a big mess on the rug and someone has to clean it up. He certainly isn't equipped.

Thomas, the Playoff MVP, won the grandest trophy of them all because the Conn Smythe is normally accompanied by Lord Stanley's mug. The guy who has never ducked a hard question in his life, was stumped for two long seconds when asked what Luongo said to him in their lengthy exchange in the hand shake line. Finally, a reply. "He didn't say anything. I just told him what a great goalie I thought he was."

Is there anything left to say? One man, who has paid countless dues, is still giving, using his language to "pump the tires" of his vanquished opponent in the perfect forum, one on one, eyeball to eyeball with hands clasped in a man's shake. The loser, and I use that word with no remorse, stays mum. I think that concludes this tale of two 'tenders.

Post Script 1. A week after the Cup thomas claimed his second Vezina trophy in three years. He now has a Smythe, two Vezinas, an Olympic silver and 4 All-star Game appearances, including being credited for three victories in a row. His accolades now surpass Mike Richter, and he has made a legitimate case for himself being the best U.S. goalie of all time and a serious candidate for the Hall of Fame. All of those accomplishments after the age of 33. An amazing tale, spiced by the fact that his parents sold their wedding bands to keep him outfitted in goalie gear while a teen in Flint, Michigan. (Flint!)

Post Script 2. The Vancouver Canucks have the most talent on any team in the world, but a flawed goalie. A flawed style that was revealed for all to see (1-armed goalie) in the Finals, and flawed psychologically as a guy who has spent his entire career being told he is the best and the next great goalie from Quebec, the land of the best goalies. Will he be able to confront the fact that he is an athlete who has a tendency to choke in big spots? He just turned 31. Does he have the tools or advisors necessary to help him evolve? To concede that he has flaws that must be worked through? Hmmm...

Post Script 3. What do you do if you are the Canucks? Your backup goalie is better than your starter, a psychologically scarred 31 year old who has the richest and longest contract this side of DiPietro. Can you win with Luongo as your guy? Not if recent history is your guide.

Tale of two 'tenders. Black hat vs white. College vs Major Junior. Quebec vs Flint.

Duluth Deluxe

They hadn't been to the NCAA final in 27 years, that amazing yet agonizing 4OT loss to Bowling Green in Lake Placid. Since then they've been WCHA fodder, that OTHER Minnesota team, two and a half hours north of the Twin Cities.

Duluth, a town that lost it's mining industry and tried to reinvent itself as a tourist destination, can be a city of hard times. It's an amazing hockey town whose University has boasted dozens of quality NHL players, like Tom Kurvers and Chico Resch and Brett Hull. But they have never won the big one, while the Golden Gophers to the south have grabbed the brass ring 5 times. It's enough to make the locals think they would never win it.

Duluth born Phil Hoene, a high school whiz that played for Duluth in the 70's before earning a 3-year stint in the NHL, never lost faith. "I knew they'd win it eventually...through I remember the OT loss to Bowling Green, the puck hit something on a dump-in and ended up in front of the net and it was over."

Twin Cities Sportscaster and Duluth native Jim Rich was losing faith over the years.

"I was there in 1984 when the Bulldogs and Bowling Green played the longest national championship game in NCAA History. The game went into the 4th overtime before the Falcons eventually skated away with the title. The next year, the Bulldogs were back (in the NCAA's), but this time they lost in triple OT to eventual national champion, RPI. Then it began to cross my mind, were thess Duluth’s only chances?

"The program began to regress; making the NCAA’s became a tougher task. UMD got back to the Frozen Four, but once again lost in OT..this time to Boston College."

Rich never said it, but as a former Bostonian I had to wonder, was this team cursed? Would they ever get out of the Gopher's shadow?

Kyle Schmidt, the only Duluth player who did not dye his hair blonde for the post season--an imminent wedding was the justification--put away a valiant Michigan squad in the first OT. Schmidt is a resident of Hermantown, a suburb 10 miles west of Duluth, but he will be a Duluthian in their hearts forever now. You always remember your first.

Duluth product John Burke, a former beer league teammate of Hoene's and now an elite PGA caddie checked in with SportsRap. "I choked on my dinner when he scored the OT goal (to beat Michigan). I remember that s*** feeling when they lost to Bowling Green in 4OT's like it was yesterday."

Burke was soon on the phone with Mark Heaslip, Duluth native and UMD alum who played 117 games in The Show. "We just got rid of 50 years of ghosts," said an elated Heaslip to Burke.

Insiders refer often to the Hockey Gods, the arbiters of "puck luck." Overtime in single elimination cannot be survived without some good fortune. At the 2011 NCAA Hockey final, either Michigan would win their 10th title and coach Red Berenson his third, or the hockey nation of Duluth could finally puff out their chest. The Gods smiled on Duluth, a town that doesn't get a lot of sunshine. In the hometown of the Minnesota Gophers, the Duluth hockey nation finally got their taste of immortality.

"You feel so light," said Hoene. "No one can take this away from you. It felt like 1980 and the Miracle on Ice."

Jim Rich checks in one last time with an observation from the Xcel Center.

"Perhaps the sight that symbolized it all, was while the Bulldogs were celebrating on the ice of the Xcel Energy Center, up in the suite level, former UMD Athletic Director and star player, now WCHA Commissioner Bruce McLeod was the only one left, looking down smiling as the school he worked so hard to get to the top, finally was there.”

failure to launch...

13 minutes into the first period, Duluth takes two penalties within :16, Yale has 4-4 and then 5-3 manpower advantage, and then after a broken stick, a virtual 5 on 2 advantage for half a minute. Dice came up snake-eyes. No stats available for inability to convert 5 on 2's but it cant be good for the impotent. "It's like Union (0 for 9 PP vs UMD Friday) all over again," said veteran journalist Adam Wodon. On a subsequent Yale PP, Duluth winger Mike Connelly converts a shorthanded 2 on 1 with surgical precision, and the first goal has been scored. Yale should decline their next penalty. Duluth PK in Bridgeport is 12 for 12 with a shorty so far. Respect for ECAC power plays can't be too high.
"The difference between Yale and a WCHA power like North Dakota is that UND would have buried it by now," said Wodon. Yale got their best chance of the period on their on shorthanded chance. Refs appear a little whistle happy with half a dozen minors called in period. 1-0 Duluth Bulldogs after first, with :55 PP seconds on fresh ice to start the second if they need it. Yale skated with more jazz and pizzazz in first than all of the Air Force game. Will their legs hold? stay tuned...WCHA in charge of this regional until someone scores on Duluth junior goalie Kenny Reiter. 4 shutout periods and counting...

Elis take the ice

In what could be an historic night, Bulldogs (Yale that is) take the ice for warmups of the NCAA Eastern Regional final in bridgeport. One step away..

Survive and Advance

YALE'S CHAD ZIEGLER SAVES THE ELI PUCK DREAMS...FOR THE MOMENT

Bridgeport, CT It was a game that Yale, currently in the 5th year of coach Keith Allain's success arc, simply could not lose as the top seed in the NCAA tournament against the lowest. Yale's program has been one of relentless progression under Allain, a Worcester, MA native. This strong-willled, no-nonsense coach has led his Elis to the NCAA 1st round in 2009, a regional final in 2010, and is currently boring in on the thin air of the Frozen Four. Yale enters the 2011 tournament as the #1 ranked team in the country, hosting a regional final 20 minutes from its New Haven campus.

The reality on the ice Friday night, however, did not fit the script. Under the supremely successful tactics of head coach Frank Serratore, the Air Force Falcons had survived Yale's early onslaught, tied the game, and were looking for the kill shot in the third period. Yale appeared spent, struggled to complete passes, and the ice was tilted toward their goal. Whatever energy Yale had left was spent driving pucks around their end boards in desperate attempts to clear the zone. For a team that averaged over 36 shots a game for the season, they managed a mere 5 in the third period against Air Force. Two years earlier Serratore's Falcons had scalped the Michigan Wolverines in an NCAA regional in this same building, and there was no doubt in his mind that he had the Yale Bulldogs just where he wanted them.

"We played rope-a-dope in the first two periods," said the vociferous Serratore in post-game press conference that became a torrent of sports cliches. "It was Katie bar the door, then the worm started to turn. Their legs were gone."

Regardless of his collection of mixed metaphors, Serratore was dead on. In three minutes of overtime, Air Force poured 5 shots Bulldog Goalie Ryan Rondeau, who repeatedly saved Yale's season. The ice around the Air Force goal was pristine, essentially untouched. It appeared that the Allain express, the Yale juggernaut that had shut out nationally ranked Cornell 6-0 in the ECAC Championship 6 days earlier, was about to be derailed.

But the Elis finally got the puck into the Air Force end, a defenseman mishandled it into a turnover, which led to a shot and a precious rebound. An unlikely hero in the form of Bulldogs junior winger Chad Ziegler extended all of his 6'2" frame, diving parallel to the ice to jab in the game-winning goal (see photo above). It was only his 8th goal of the year (three of them game-winners) for the Alberta native. It led to a delirious celebration that can only come from college kids who have stared down mortality.

"There ain't a more relieved guy in this building than Keith Allain," spouted Serratore in his closing comments. Then it was over: his press conference; his season; the career of his marvelous captain Jacques Lamoreaux. He marched out of the media zone, proud but eliminated.

Allain's turn in the presser came shortly thereafter, and he needed to re-frame the story. Prior to his spin it was a simple case of surviving thanks to a lucky bounce. His opening statement was certainly genuine. "We're pleased to be moving on and not have to play them again this year." No doubt. In their two games versus the Zoomies this season Yale suffered a loss and an overtime struggle against crew cut warriors that had worn his club down to sawdust in the slushy post-season ice. Allain's relief was palpable. He then went into damage control against the notion that his kids were drained and weren't in as good shape as their opponents from the armed service.

"I think we're pretty fit. We've got what I think is the best strength coach in the country in Joe Maher...we have a bunch of players who are willing to pay a price to do what they need to be fit; our guys have been literally been working towards this since last May, off the ice, on their own with a program, so I wasn't worried about our fitness level in any way, shape or form." End of story.

His players picked up on those proud words. "I think our energy was pretty good," said Jimmy Martin. "It took everything we had to come out and win, but speaking for myself I felt pretty good, the energy in the room was pretty good." Perceptions replaced reality, but survival was all that mattered.

Yale now has to park this last experience, using whatever spin they choose, and move on. Another diabolical defensive power, the Minnesota Duluth Bulldogs of the WCHA, await. They are three hours fresher than Yale, having dismissed the Union College Dutchmen of the ECAC in the matinee. Duluth faced nowhere near the resistance that Air Force threw at Yale.

The WCHA, stocked with national powers like Minnesota, Wisconsin, Denver and North Dakota, often sneers at the ECAC and their claims of a legitimate national contender. Should Yale fall to the OTHER Bulldogs, their remarkable season that includes a 6-week stay atop of the national polls, will be dismissed. If the Allain legend is to continue its annual growth, and the Yale Bulldogs are to gain true national gravitas, they have no choice this evening but to survive and advance.

Paper Tiger in the home of the Sound Tigers?

An ECAC Team as the top seed in the NCAA Div I hockey tourney? Ivy League no less. the Yale University skating Bulldogs. As number one seed in the East regional they play Air Force, second place finishers from a conference no one has heard of (Atlantic hockey). Should be automatic, right? they played a scoreless 1st period, with Yale carrying most of the play, but Air Force with the greater number of "Grade A" chances (3-2). Air Force beat them head to head in November, and posted a win in this same Bridgeport building 2 years ago against a dominant Michigan team. So...this has become a pick 'em game. #1 vs #20. Go figure. Yale has some serious work to do if they are to get to their historic first Frozen Four.

pee-wee hockey story...sticking together

The Kinnelon Colts capped their first season of pee-wee A travel hockey with a Championship trophy at the Shamrock Shootout tournament at the Protec Ponds in Somerset New Jersey. It was the culmination of an experiment in which a Rec-League team decided to test their mettle against the best A-league teams in the State for a full season, and they ended up with some precious metal themselves.

After years of dominating the Morris County house league at Mennen rink in Morristown, the Kinnelon Colts pee-wee program decided to take a bold step forward and join the prestigious NJYHL travel circuit, in the A-League no less. It was a show of faith that their venerable coach Nick Gakos would have them prepared so as not to embarrass the club, the parents or the kids.

Not everyone believed, 4 hockey go-getters abandoned the Colts program for greener pastures, playing for coach Meg Hishmeh's Skyland Kings travel program in the NJYHL. But there was a core group, including a special goalie (Jack McConeghy), a pair of twins that are the 21st century's answer to Tom and Huck (Patrick and Sean Grant), a kid who looks like a catelogue model and skates like young Larry Robinson (Michael Harrison), the coach's son (Steven Gakos), who has a none of the old man's bluster, but possesses that intangible hockey magic in his hands and feet, and a roly-poly defenseman (Evan Prestera) that might be the best athlete of them all.

From the opening face-off in September, the Colts earned more than respect: consecutive 3-goal third period comebacks sparked a lengthy undefeated streak, leaving bruised bodies and egos in their wake. The Colts were flirting with first place in the NJYHL southern division in November. They had quickly become the curiosity of travel-team hockey, and the club no one wanted to play. Too much to lose.

They entered a couple of tournaments, posed threats in both, but the hockey Gods did not smile on these renegades, and there was no hardware to show for their efforts. Coach Gakos lived up to his end of the bargain: the Colts played hard and clean and were always prepared. But they hit a wall, blowing a two-goal third period lead to the first place Penguins and a heartbreaker to the Junior Flyers in Voorhees. It cost them a shot at the playoffs, but the Colts simply would not quit. Twice they beat the Bridgewater Bears, the team with the most wins in their Division. Steven Gakos, having missed the entire previous season due to medical complications, literally carried his club in the last game against Bridgewater, scoring 3 magnificent goals against the Bears in a 4-2 shocker. The Bears fans left Twin Oaks Arena in disbelief, shut down by Gakos and Company, but it would be Bridgewater team entering the NJYHL playoffs, not Kinnelon. The Colts finished an impressive 9-5-2 in the southern division, 3 points out of a coveted playoff spot. They would have to find consolation in the Rec League.

The Colts did the expected, winning both the regular season and playoff Mennen Cup trophies without sustaining a scratch, but they wanted more. Although most of the parents thought the advent of March signaled the end of hockey, it was important for the Colts to have something tangible for their trophy case, something to symbolize their breakthrough year in the NJYHL. So they entered the Shamrock Shootout in Somerset, one of four NJYHL A teams. One trophy at stake, one set of medals.

With a twist of irony, the hockey gods pitted the Colts against the undefeated Skylands Kings for not one but two consecutive games on Sunday. The winner of the second game would leave with a trophy, the loser, nada. It was a matchup oozing with intrigue and past relationships. 4 of the Kings players grew up with and attended school with the Kinnelon core before "jumping ship" 2 seasons ago. Experts figured Coach Hishmeh's Kings as favorites for the hardware, the club with all that experience in travel team wars. But they were facing a foe that was extremely familiar to them, a Kinnelon team playing with a bit of a chip on its shoulder forged by being abandoned two seasons ago.

Game 1 saw the Colts jump out to a 3-0 lead, and then withstand a furious Kings comeback when they scored twice in a minute to close to 3-2 with 6 minutes remaining. Gakos signalled for a timeout, the Colts regained their composure, and All-Tournament center Steven Gakos slalomed through the offensive zone and buried a wrist shot, relegating the Kings goalie a mere bystander. Kinnelon's 4-2 win gave them top seeding and the status as home team for the Sunday evening Championship game.

The finale was tense affair that saw three different lead changes, including a rush and finish by Mountain Lakes resident John Rosseland that had scouts drooling over his combination of size, force and finesse. But nothing was settled in regulation that ended 3-3, and no goals were scored in a dramatic 5-minute overtime, a session in which the Colts were tantalizingly close. This game would be settled by a shootout, a format that had not been kind to the Colts a day before. Skylands went first and scored impressively. Fear, crept in--was it possible that this last attempt at legitimate hardware was slipping away? Coach Gakos turned the team's fortunes over to Danny Kramer, a newcomer who looked like a choirboy, but had deadly aim in shootouts. He blistered a wrist shot off the iron and in, and the Colts dream burned on.

Given a second chance, Kinnelon goalie Jack McConeghy's will took over, stoning the next two Skylands shooters. Steven Gakos misfired in a situation where he admitted to immense pressure, so it came down to another Mountain Lakes product, Kinnelon rookie Thomas Rappleye. He would be the third and potentially final shooter in this contest. He swerved 25 feet to his left before bearing in on the Kings goal, head up, the game on his stick. He squeezed off a quick wrester heading toward the glove side, but it connected with leather. Much of the crowd thought the game was still on, but there was little number 74 on a mad dash towards McConeghy, sprinting into a championship hug. "I was scared because it bounced off his glove," said Rappleye in the post game delirium. "But I saw it in the net and I was pumped." This was no rec-league award, this was hard-earned NJYHL hardware. The two-foot trophy was accidentally handed to the Skylands Kings, so a former Kinnelon player wearing a Kings uniform had to hand it over top the rightful victors, with a good deal of humility. The first-year travel club Kinnelon Colts had beaten the Kings, an 11-win team from NJYHL's all-powerful northern division, not once, but twice in a single day. No explanations were necessary, this club had arrived.

The team had their trophy, the kids all had medals hanging around their necks, and the Colts didn't need to justify to anybody who they were. Next year this group, led by Huck and Tom and the coach's kid and all the other "locals" who decided to stick together, will move up to bantams and seek more medals and more metal, paying tribute to time-tested values like loyalty and sticking together. In a culture where players in a team sport have become mercenaries constantly looking to better their individual needs, a neighborhood band of Colts stuck together and claimed a trophy. Maybe there will be more like Rappleye and Rosseland and Kramer who will gravitate toward this band of brothers.

St. Patrick a day late in Newark

One team is a league super power: steeled by adversity, the Washington Capitals are now riding the NHL's best talent to within 2 points of the top of the Eastern conference. They have the best player who appears to be on a mission, they just fell of an 8 game win streak, narrowly losing to Detroit on the second of back-to-back games. They arrived in the New York area yesterday and are rested and ready to embark on their mission to the capture the top seed in the east. Wise money says they will accomplish that with ease.

Their opponent tonight? The New Jersey Devils, a team that just cam off a disheartening loss to last place Ottawa last night, and traveled home in the dead hours, clearing customs after midnight. A look at the standings reveals a team that has fallen to 12th place with a dozen to play. Losing saps more energy than the back-to-back games. Logic says this should be a cakewalk for the Ovechkin and the Capitals. Logic be damned.

Even though the calendar says March 18, the Devils and their "Army" will be in full celebration of St. Patrick's Day. The skaters, and many of their fans, will be clad in their throwback uniforms prior to 1982, which possess plenty of green. The last two years the Devils have won emotional victories at home on St. Patrick's Day, brimming with energy they blew out a great Penguins team last year, first star PAtrik Elias ignited the crowd sporting a kelly green bowler when he acknowledged first star honors. The Prudential will be a howling mad house tonight.

The Devils embark on a brutal 4 game road trip, and who knows what kind of shape they will be in when they return. But tonight, on surrogate St. Patrick's Friday, the joint will be jumpin at the sold out Rock. This will be the Devils Stanley Cup final. Look for the Devils to keep the dream alive with a dramatic energetic win.

Bring your passport; treated like foreigners in Ottawa

Sign on Devils Whiteboard after Tuesday's game: "On Ice 2 PM. Bring your Passport." A lot of hockey people think if you take of all the details in the room, your create an atmosphere conducive for success. The Devils would be crossing an international border shortly after the Wednesday practice, and they needed those passports if they were to enter Ottawa. A packed back would be nice, a passport would be necessary. Critical details, nothing extraneous.

Devils trailing late in the second period, but throwing a lot of rubber at Curtis McIlhenney. MSG TV provides closeups of Elias grimacing and cursing on the bench. The Devils frustration grows in equal proportion to the confidence of McIlhenney. Rival Toronto is down 3 goals to Florida, creating a perfect scenario for the Devils to leapfrog them in the standings to 10th, alive and well. If they lose it appears likely the will fall to 12th, in dire straits. McIlhenney must be solved. The second period is now over, an excellent one for Jersey with 10 shots on goal, but none in the net. Someone must make a play, a heroic clutch play in third period, or the Devils will return to .500 and a rested Capitals team laying in wait in Newark.

The last thing they need is more pressure, but everyone associated with the club must feel it. In 20 minutes of hockey there are bound to be a half-dozen grade A chances, where a player gets a swipe at a puck in scoring range with only the goalie to beat. Someone must be calm enough to deliver, or the Devils will be in danger of nosediving at the absolute worst time of the year. With so many other teams in the mix, a step backward could be fatal. I'm thinking defenseman Anssi Salmela.

20 seconds into the third period the Senators defense collapses, the Devils get two grade A chances and 4 shots. Senators convert on a strange bounce seconds late. My guy Salmela inadvertantly knocks the puck into his own net. Video review does not help the Devils, and McIlhenney has a 2 goal cushion. The Devils score but it is waived off because of Adam Mair interfered with Curtis Mac. Replays show the officials made impeccable calls in both cases. All this action taking place in the first 2 minutes of the period.

I don't see a lot of energy out of Kovalchuk. It is unlikely that individual efforts will be successful on this night. Tedenby fires away with 2 shots in close, penalty is called. Devils get power play and convert with a super slapshot from Brian Roslton. David Clarkson creates a superb jumping screen. The game has transformed into a scrambly affair chock full scoring chances and coach's agida. TV commentator Chico Resch calls it "bubbling."

Devils called for goalie interference, critical PK for the Devils game, season. A crappy call. They are on the road. Devils SH rush lkeads to a fallen player, no makeup call. Colin White blocks a shot with a gaping net behind him. Took it bravely in the hand. Penalty is killed, 6:40 to play. 2-1 Sens. Kovalchuk breakaway...stoned. It is not his night. Is there a hero? Icing takes it back to Devils end with 5 and change left.

Lines have been changed up with high-energy Tedenby getting more than his share of ice. Ottawa trapping look like Devils at their trapping best, quicksand in neutral ice. Brodeur makes 4-bell save on Svatos. Tedenby hauled down on subsequent chance, no call. He has been reunited with Josefson. Another Broduer tricky stop. Faceoff in Jersey end 1:50 left. .. attackers at the 1:20 mark. Salmela takes a slapper into a shin pad, Sens collect and Chris Neil scores the empty netter. Devils in 12th place after 3-1 loss to pesky Sens. My guy Salmela is wearing the horns, doing exactly what coach Lemaire described in a post-game complaint 3 games ago even though scored the OT winner that night. Lemaire knows of what he speaks.

The Great 8 and his Capitals rest and watch in Newark, then a road trip that might end the dream: Columbus, Boston, Pittsburgh and then Boston again. .500 will be difficult, and .550 won't be enough. This was their game to win. Are the Devils good enough? Doubts arise...

Third line asset from Tre Kronor

Happy times for Mattias Tedenby, A.K.A. Ted

They are not the "Chicken Swedes" of Don Cherry's yesteryear.

Yes, Mattias Tedenby (5'10, 175 lbs) and Jacob Josefson (6'1" 190) are small, fast and offensively gifted, but they don't shy away from contact. They are trustworthy in their own end, and they are tough. And they might be the most important ingredient in the Devils improbable (impossible?) push to the Stanley Cup playoffs.

When asked, Jacques Lemaire is cool on the Swedes, putting no pressure on them. "The kids will do their share, they have come up with goals on different nights, chip in, but everyone has to."

With playoff hope on the line the last two games, the kids, Tedenby and Josefson, have combined for 6 points (2 goals and 4 assists) on a team that barely manages two goals per game. They are providing vital 3rd line scoring on a team that begs for second line production. And the kids are safe. In a season in which the Devils have been outscored by 26 goals, these two Swedes are both +2. "They are responsible in their own end," says Marty Brodeur, and that says a lot. 3rd line defenders, and clutch scorers. Couldn't come a better time with the Devils in 11th place in the Eastern conference playoff traffic jam.

Tedenby at 21 is the veteran of the two. He's got all of 45 games under his belt entering Thursday's clash with Ottawa, Josefson 15. Tedenby is missing front teeth and has the facial scars of an NHL veteran, Josefson still sports a baby-face, for now. But despite their contrasting looks, they are beginning to think and act as one. With the game tied Tuesday night against the Thrashers in the third period, the two went to work cycling down low. Tedenby jumped on a loose puck.
"My mind was, when I went down to the corner quick, do a quick turn to look. And I saw Jacob, he was open there."

Jacob was between the face-off dot and the top of the circle, about 18' out. Tedenby had more than one option, but Josefson was ready to shoot when the pass arrived. "I saw that he saw me. Tedy made a great pass." Josefson released it instantly and Thrashers goalie Ondrej Pavelec never moved. Add a GWG to Josefson's resume. "It's
fun to score goals, it's a great feeling."

It's no accident that the two Swedes are on the same wavelength, even though they grew up over 4 hours away from each other, Jacobson in Stockholm and Tedenby in Vetlanda . They both played in the prestigious Sweden national program, playing on national Under 18 teams and the World Juniors. They won World Junior silver and bronze together in 2009 and 2010, and according to Joesfson, got to know each other's tendencies. "Sometimes we played on the same line together." Josefson was with Team Sweden's World Junior team in Lake Placid this past July, a team that gained notoriety for it's feisty aggressive play. "They were chippy and obnoxious," said one journalist after watching them play team USA in an exhibition. "Hitting late, taunting. It was kind of a role reversal with the North Americans, who were kind of gentlemanly." This is no accident. The Swedish national program is gearing up their young players for the rigors of North American hockey. They are building new "hybrid" rinks (about 192' wide) that are narrower than Europe but wider than North America. This progressive Swedish program has served these two well in preparation for the NHL. And yes, they're young, but not all that small--Tedenby plays bigger than his 5'10", and Josefson is 6'1".

When Josefson returned from a broken hand that cost him 30 games, he and "Ted" were originally matched with young Russian Vladimir Zharkov. It was only after David Clarkson replaced Zharkov in the March 12 Islander game that their offense exploded. "They're both really good skaters," said Josefson of Clarkson and Tedenby. "Quick feet, we keep the puck."

Clarkson, a new father, is delighted to be playing with a couple of babies. Did he consider missing a shift after getting his face gouged by Al Montoya's butt end last Saturday? "No way!" His primary contribution? "Speed is what I'm bringing to this line."

Getting Josefson back from his knee injury in early March is the equivalent of a major deadline deal for the Devils, except there is no time penalty as the acquired player tries to mesh with new teammates. Josefson complements Tedenby perfectly having learned each others tendencies years ago while their hockey brains were still developing. They are premier NHL talent, both blue chip first round draft choices and products of Sweden's elite national team. Think of them as the Devils answer to the Sedin twins, maybe a notch below their offensive wizardry, but honest two-way players with little defensive risk and a huge upside.

"The young players are quick, fast and grind in the corners," says Brodeur. Swedish smurfs who grind in corners. Welcome to the new NHL. They are honest players who spend large chunks of their shift wearing down the defense with relentless cycling and puck chasing in the offensive zone, coupled with the fact that they have European skills and skating, AND an innate sense of what the other one is thinking. For a third line, what's not to like?

"I like this little line," said Lemaire soberly. "If they take care of their defensive responsibilities, I'll keep them together." For a veteran coach in the playoff chase of his life, those words are euphoric.

A Devilish Spirit

Baby Faced Assassin Jacob Josefson turned 20 this month

Two competing beat reporters looking out for each other during a deadline crunch; a 9-figure superstar sharing his time and autographs with get-a-lifers on a cold street corner; An aging franchise goalie refusing to complain after his teammates hung him out to dry repeatedly in a must win game. There is a vibe, a selfless spirit of sorts, permeating in, around and through this hockey club. A spirit that manifests itself in good will, and more importantly to the cold bottom line-driven western world we live in, clicks in the win column and spaces jumped in the standings.

Although tied with two other clubs, due to tiebreaks the Devils are alone in 10th place after Tuesday night's stirring, dramatic and at times heart-stopping 4-2 victory over the Atlanta Thrashers. These two teams have played twice in 5 nights, a home and home crossroads series of sorts, and the Devils have leapfrogged the Thrashers in the standings. Pretenders and contenders. The former last place Devils are contenders, the former first place Thrashers are pretenders. In the words of Buffalo Springfield, "There's something happening here, what it is aint exactly clear..." More evidence of spirits at work: 16,000 fans came to a dangerous urban slum and paid top dollar to watch a .500 hockey team on a Tuesday night. That miraculous fact is just business as usual for a franchise that has been resurrected.

And it's not hard to find the precise moment in time when the switch was turned and they went from worst to best--Friday, January 7, 2011. They jettisoned their captain. "A classic case of addition by subtraction," said Devils radio commentator Sherry Ross on the trading of the often pouty Jamie Langenbrunner. "He had been approached for a trade earlier in the year but said no. (Langenbrunner had a "no-trade" clause in his contract.) But when Jacques got hired, that clinched it." Trading a two-time Olympian, the captain not only of the Devils but of Team USA's proud 2010 silver medalists from Vancouver changed everything. They have been 18 games over .500 since, moving from bottom of the heap to playoff contender. Getting rid of a top-six forward in return for no player. Addition by subtraction, a world turned upside down.

Two sets of stories emerge from Newark on this night...on-ice magic and off ice magic. From the ice...20 and 21 year old Swedish linemates, guys who had combined for two medals at the prestigious World Junior Championship in recent years, are pumping life into the Devils offense. Jacob Josefson and Mattias Tedenby combined for the winning goal after the Devils trailed by 2. An apparent tying goal beat Marty Brodeur in the final minute, a complete and utter buzz kill for the whole building, until it was waived off because of a high stick. Solid citizen Travis Zajac becomes the franchise leader in consecutive games played, and he scores a killer goal at the end of the first period, without which most experts think they lose the game. With an open net staring at him in the closing seconds, he handed off the puck to Ilya Kovalchuk who had been pressing for a goal all night. Kovy connected and got his wish. Soft-spoken and selfless after the game, Zajac embodies the Devils E Pluribus Unum--"out of many, one." The younger of the two Swedes, Jacob Josefson, who still has a baby face, scored his second goal in as many nights on a perfect feed from his 21 year old countryman. "I knew that he knew I was open," said Josefson. Those 8 words perfectly define offensive hockey magic. Knowledge and trust of your linemate translates to success in the incredibly tight checking NHL. The sum greater than the individual parts. "These guys know each other a lot," said Brodeur. "The chemistry has been good." A brilliant give and go between former Devils Cup champions Patrik Elias and Brian Rolston, where the shooter and the playmaker reversed roles, tied the game in the second period and ignited the crowd. Hockey magic, an NHL goal made to look easy when it's one of the hardest things in all of pro sports.

Now the off the ice stuff. Devils P.R. professionals kindly notified the post-game media horde that Brodeur was going to be late for his sound bites, and then asked if they wanted to hear from Jacques Lemaire in the press room. Bergen Record beat reporter Tom Gulitti noticed that New York Post writer Mark Everson, his competition, was still interviewing Travis Zajac, and asked the P.R. staff to hold off on Lemaire because Everson was still working the locker room. To my knowledge, that's NEVER been done before. But it's business as usual in Newark. Eventually the Lemaire show went on without Everson, and another accredited journalist offered his recording of the Lemaire press conference to Everson. Kindness begets kindness, even among hard-boiled journalists.

Lemaire was informed by MSG news hound Anthony Fucilli that 5 of their next 6 games are on the road. Thanks Fooch. Brodeur asked Gulitti about out of town scores, thanks Tom. And after all the media had been satisfied, the players drove their expensive cars out of their restricted lot into the cold night. Fans on the street eager for autographs are herded into a pen where they hope to catch a glimpse and maybe an autograph. A large man in a white SUV the size of a small tank with Florida plates pulled over and opened his window. The man with the $100 million dollar contract stopped the car, and signed and signed and signed. The last fan, wearing a Devils windbreaker, hand Kovalchuk a puck, it was all he had. The big Russian had the perfect silver sharpie and gave him a signature for the ages. He politely pulled off into Newark traffic, followed by his agent Jay Grossman in his black Mercedes. Neither was the slightest bit impatient.

The Prudential Center Elevator operators have a lot of potential income riding on whether or not the Devils make the playoffs. "Oh, I'm ready for a miracle!" said Tuesday's operator. He smiled and pushed the button to open the doors. "I'm ready."

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"Faux .500," a full analysis

With two days between Devils games, there is now time to digest their true winning perecentage, and why the term "Faux .500." What is .500 in the post lockout NHL? Fans and scribes are accustomed to looking at the numbers: 32 wins, 32 losses, and a number that follows, in the Devils case, 2. It sure looks like .500. 66 points accumulated out of a possible 132. Sure feels like .500 But the number 2 represents either an Overtime or shootout loss. Some might have a hard time granting a point to a team that loses, but acquiring a point after a tie in regulation does not offend the purists familiar with the game prior to the 1983 and the advent of Overtime. Hard to argue with a century of precedence, a point for a tie in regulation passes the smell test.

But something isn't right, awarding the same amount of points to a team for a hard fought win in regulation, as opposed to the team who coasts in the final minutes and then steals a "win" in a shootout. It is not equitable, by anyone's definition, especially when the losing team gets a point. Hence the imbalance of the "three-point games," which is under considerable scrutiny, or at least should be, with two high-stakes pennant races screaming down to the wire as you read this. I'll provide a solution to the current 2 and 3 point game disparity, but first let's debunk after the Devils record and their flirtation with .500.

Old School:
Yes, a point for a tie in regulation is legitimate. So let's maintain that old-school formula and examine those wins scored AFTER being tied in regulation. All those points acquired after the tie are in question. The Devils have acquired 10 points after tying in regulation, 7 OT winners, 3 by shootout. In the ancient but equitable old school formula we would discount all the points acquired after regulation, and the Devils record then becomes 22-32-14, still 10 games under .500, a winning percentage of .426. Wow, those stop-the-presses headlines and player quotes about making history aren't so relevant. However, this is not the old NHL, and on 7 occasions the Devils lit the lamp on real hockey plays (albeit 4 on 4) to gain seemingly legitimate victories. The insane celebrations in Atlanta on Friday and Newark on Saturday bore no resemblance to a tie; this reality is duly noted and logged.

No shootouts, OT's winner take all.
For sake of argument, let's call OT wins real victories, but award no point for an OT loss, and give a point to each team a point that reached the shootout. If we call those games ties, which is a legitimate argument, the Devils are 29-35-4, a semblance of legitimacy with a .456 winning percentage, but not a cause for delirium. Under this scenario, there are no 3 point games, but no shootouts to entertain the fans.

Now, the equitable 3-point solution (NHL, take note)
3 points for a regulation win, 2 points for a win in the extra session (keep the Shootout to keep the fans happy), 1 point for a loss in the extra session, 0 points for a loss in regulation. Even Steven. Every game is a 3 point game. Winning in regulation is a greater accomplishment than winning in a modified post-game. Two contenders will actually take chances in the closing minutes of a tie game, a reward for their risk. The only downside is the historical aspect, the inability to compare point totals from dynastic teams from different eras, but the current point totals are inflated anyway. Standings without secrets. 4 categories, a designated point total for each.

The Devils winning percentage under this equitable 4-category system: 22 regulation wins (66 pts); 10 extra-session wins (20 pts) 4 extra-sesson losses (4 pts) and 32 regulation losses. 90 points out of a possible 204. The calculator says: .441

So we now have 4 ways to assess the 2010-2011 Devils season statistically:

Current inflated system: .500

Old School (no points after regulation) .426

Shootouts as ties, no points for OT losses: .456

Equitable 3-points per game system: .441

This blog has no qualms with the .441 or .456. Adjusting the entire league standings will be a chore for the Elias Sports Bureau if they want the exercise, but the bottom line is that Devils are not a .500 team. More like .450. They have 10 extra-session wins, and 4 extra session losses, so they are a little higher in the standings than they deserve to be, yet, they are competing in the same circumstances as everyone else. Over the past month 6 of their games have gone into extra sessions, they have prevailed in all 6. Statistics be damned, this club performs in the clutch, and if they continue to do so, they will get their showdown with the NY Rangers on April 9. And that will be historic, no matter how you add the numbers.

charming Uncle Jacques

The press horde had just sucked the bones dry in the dressing room and were trampling into the press room for the last course, a session with the "old perfessor," Jacques Lemaire, to borrow a nickname from the late great Casey Stengel. As men, women and students did their deadline shuffle, an elder man was off to the side near the entrance, working his cel phone like a number of working stiffs (term of endearment, if you are in the media and working, you are succeeding right now.) Only this working stiff was the man everyone had come to hear, hockey's story du jour. After the press was assembled he coyly finished his call and stepped to the podium. He was all smiles and had every right to be

Lemaire, the man who brought a team that was past the brink, 19 games under .500 at 10-29-2, back to the break-even mark at 32-32-4. In the last 27 hours his Devils had collected 4 points to close within 6 of the final playoff spot, he had made an extremely tough call in goal-Broduer on less than a day's rest, and won. He had moved one seemingly insignificant pawn on the chess board, replacing Zharkov with David Clarkson on the "Kid Line," and was rewarded with a line that is becoming a force, collecting 6 points collectively in a 3-2 OT thriller, complete with 3 lead changes.

Jacques was having fun on the podium, beat writers were begging him to talk about the playoffs, reminding him that he promised to talk about the playoffs if the Devils got within 5 points. "But we're 6 behind," he said with a smile. "Ask me at 5." His cell phone rang from the corner of the room where he began the press conference. "That's my wife...calling to tell me not to talk about it." Has a coach ever worked a room so comfortably? But now he could talk seriously about the abyss they had climbed out of to reach .500. Did he ever imagine them returning to .500 when they were 19 games under in January? "Never. Because the league is so strong, the hill was too high." Did he think his players believed they could do it? The suntanned fox shook his silver head, "It must have been miserable for them."

The magic or momentum or lightning in a bottle or whatever term needs to be invented for this bunch was clearly in play this night in Newark. Two players scored their first career NHL goals in a 3-2 overtime win that removed the "losing record" label for this proud franchise. Those bare facts are startling by themselves, but they just reflect business as usual for the Devils over the past two months. Jacob Josefson, just turned 20 and looks like it will be at least a decade before he stops having to show his ID to get a beer, banked a puck off Al Montoya from behind the goal line to open the scoring in the first period. His first career marker, and the baby-faced was typically humble, yet honest at his locker stall. "It doesn't matter who scores as long as we win," he said, his cheeks still carrying a cherubic glow. "But it's fun to be part of it."

New linemate David Clarkson was sporting a gash on his nose, which did nothing to dampen his spirits. He lost a chunk of flesh courtesy of Montoya's shaft while prone in a goal mouth scramble, but this grizzled veteran wouldn't dare miss a shift with his rookie linemates. "Speed is what I'm bringing to the line." It's an odd grouping, a journeyman grinder and two Swedish smurfs, but it's working. "I'm happy with the little line," said Jacques. And if they take care of their defensive responsibilities, "They will probably stay together." That's as close to commitment as a coach can make in this league.

The other first-time scorer was a skilled Finn Anssi Salmela, who despite a brimming tool box, is more of a journeyman than Clarkson, bouncing around Europe and the AHL for the last 7 years while accumulating 98 games in The Show. He nearly imploded after burying the slick feed from Mattias Teddenby past Montoya's glove hand, along with the Saturday night sellout crowd. Lemaire, however, was clearly not gushing over Salmela, "He needs to make the easy play...He's always trying to do too much." A project for his Hall-Of-Fame assistant Larry Robinson.

This outcome of this game came down to a single play five minutes into the third period, with Jersey trailing by a goal and on the power play. Michael Grabner sped in all alone on a breakaway, one of many shorthanded chances for the Islanders, this one clearly the best. Brodeur waited out Grabner and got a blocker on a shot labeled for the far side.

"That was a huge save," said Lemaire. "I think that gave a little bit of a boost to our team," said Brodeur. 16 seconds later, Clarkson ties the game on a filthy goal mouth scramble, and the Devils were alive. Had Grabner finished, the Devils story would be in Sunday's obituary section.

The post game news-gatherers were trying to drum up validation for a story on "pressure," but none of the newsmakers were biting. Lemaire and all his players seemed happy to be playing game to game, one period and one shift at a time. But minutes after the locker room opened to reporters, a grim faced Adam Oates was tapping certain players on the shoulder, reminding them that there was a power play practice for noon. Despite connecting on three season-saving man advantage markers on Friday, this night's power play gave up more offense than it created and needs to be fixed, pronto.

"All game long on our power play we weren't really successful offensively, and were pretty bad defensively," said Brodeur, who coughed up a shorthanded goal to Blake Comeu in the second period after Comeau torched Brian Rolston one-on-one. The Devils use of two forwards--Rolston and Kovalchuk--on the point for most of their power-plays is an accident waiting to happen. They allowed several chances and were burned badly once. Adjustments will be made at noon today.

In the meantime, there are several teams all sharing the Devils improbable playoff dream--Carolina, Buffalo, Toronto, and, thanks to Saturday's stunning come-from-behind season saver, the Atlanta Thrashers. They will be in Newark on Tuesday. A good time to separate pretender from contender.