Trinity College was the top ranked Division III team in the East last year going into the conference tournaments, guaranteed home ice up until their version of the Frozen Four. The Bantams had the most prolific offense in the nation, with three of the country’s top four scorers fueling a devastating power play (30.6%). Anchored by a stellar senior goalie, this juggernaut was set for a long, long run through the post season. And suddenly BOOM; it ended just as it began.  A loss to wily Bowdoin in the NESCAC semifinals triggered a couple of cruel clicks in the Pair-Wise computer, and Trinity’s offensive circus was kicked to the curb by the NCAA. The NESCAC regular season champion found itself on the outside looking in during the Div. III big dance, a punch to the gut impossible to forget.

“You know, it sucked,” said current senior Jackson Brewer, the nation’s leading scorer a year ago. “There’s no way around it, a team that had 21 wins and five 1-goal losses shouldn’t be left out of the dance.” While 12 other schools around the country prepped for the NCAA show, the Trinity Bantams cleaned out their lockers in disbelief. A dream season had gone suddenly and horribly wrong, replaced by a hockey nightmare: Bowdoin, the team Trinity swept in the regular season, took their spot on the national stage. Hartford’s mud season was particularly dark for 20 hockey players on campus.

Player of the Year Brewer Shut Down by Bowdoin 

As the seasons changed, outlooks brightened, and fueled by the bile of an NCAA slight, a brilliant returning cast went to work with grim determination. “The team put in a lot of hard work over the summer,” said sophomore Ryan Cole of Anchorage. “We came together in August determined. We want to do big things this year and that meant being in the gym three times a week, being on the turf doing sprints, extra captains practice, whatever it took.”

“We did crank it up,” said Brewer. “One of our mottos this fall and this year is ‘If we keep doing what we have been doing we will get the same results.’ So we felt like Hey, we fell short last year, we got to do a little more if we want to get to where we want to be in the spring.”

Trinity returns a veritable Murderers Row of offensive talent, the most lauded in the land. Their 2014 accolades and scoring numbers are frightening: NESCAC Player of the Year Brewer tallied 56 points in 26 games; Michael Hawkrigg led the nation in goals per game with 22 tallies; NESCAC Rookie of the Year Ryan Cole had 19 goals and 48 points; defenseman Mike Flynn had 22 helpers and was a 2^nd team All American; another freshman Sean Orlando had 22 goals and 40 points. The season-long party of red lights and goal celebrations sparked plenty of national recognition, making the post-season train wreck even more painful. All of that offensive talent returns for this year’s mission.

Last Friday Trinity took on Amherst in their home opener in Hartford. Prior to the game they raised a banner as NESCAC regular season champs, but the brutal ending to that season made it a bittersweet affair. “It’s not the championship we wanted, but those guys in that locker room worked their tail off,” said Bantams coach Matt Greason, a Trinity alum plucked from USA Hockey’s national team in Ann Arbor. “It’s nice that we have some hardware, or a banner hanging there, but they know the real one is ahead, hopefully in March.”   

Friday’s game in Hartford was a league barometer: Amherst was a NESCAC power last year as well, sweeping Trinity in the regular season and boasting some brilliant newcomers this fall. Rivals Williams and Bowdoin were undoubtedly studying this result. Thanks to three power plays, Amherst outshot Trinity in the first period and carried the play territorially. Only a Ryan Cole snipe with two ticks remaining allowed Trinity a shaky 3-2 lead in the first intermission.  

Matt Greason coaching Alma-Mater to new Height 

From that point on the Bantams began to push the play, rolling four lines of relentless pressure, and eventually the Lord Jeffs of Amherst crumbled. For the second period in a row, Cole fired a scoring laser in the closing minute. This wrister was so precise--finding a virtual keyhole in the top shelf that barely nudged the water bottle--that the super soph didn’t even know he had scored. “I thought it didn’t go in, I kind of circled around, and he (ref) was pointing. I guess I surprised myself on that one.” The goal was a dagger, giving Trinity a 5-2 lead, and the Bantams never looked back. Cole collected his second career hat trick in the third period as Trinity outshot Amherst 11-5, rolling to their third consecutive victory by identical 7-2 scores. The NESCAC community must have choked on their coffee Saturday morning when they saw the result. Trinity has outscored its opposition 11-0 in third periods this year, sucking life out of teams over 60-minute games. The Roosters have become hockey anacondas.

Ryan Cole: Goal a Game for Bantams

“They can’t keep up, we’re pretty well conditioned,” said Brewer. “Teams get demoralized, they get worn down if we play our system the right way.”

“Chinese water torture,” said Greason after his first win over Amherst in two years. “We’ve had a consistent plan. If we keep doing it and doing it, it’s going to work eventually.  And we’ve been fortunate to get on the right side of it in the second half in the first three games.”

Trinity’s style has added to last year’s “beautiful game” of multiple passes often seen on their power play.  The attached video is a nine-pass tic-tac-toe goal finished off by Brewer in game two versus Tufts. It is reminiscent of last year’s special team.

Brewer had 42 helpers in 26 games last year, helping the Bantams set a school record with 44 power play goals. But Bowdoin spent a week prepping for Brewer and company prior to the NESCAC semis, knocking him off his game and stealing their glory.

“Bowdoin did a good job trying to match lines, they were finishing their checks,” said Brewer. “We do have a target on our back, but that’s what comes with success.”

This year, however, Trinity has another dominant line, led by Cole, and two outstanding freshmen Tyler Whitney and Anthony Sabitsky. That unit totaled nine points while ringing up five goals in the Amherst blowout; the faces have changed but the numbers remain the same. This group plays a different brand of hockey than last year’s first line of perimeter puck movers Brewer-Orlando-Hawkrigg. This new rendition of the “Diaper Line” plays with breakaway dash and patient grit in the dirty areas of the ice. “I just put my head down and work,” said Cole. “Guys like Tyler Whitney can create offense, it kind of gives more room for me so that really helps a lot.” NESCAC rivals now have yet another Rooster headache to try and solve.

This is the dawn of Trinity Hockey 2.0, a sick blend of four lines loaded with talent from Alaska, Sweden, Canada and the best prep schools in the U.S. At least half a dozen could have gone Division I, but they are stoked to be in Hartford here and now, rocking Division III in one of the premier leagues in the country. With Greason behind the bench and a huge chip on their shoulders, this team is poised to make noise nationally. Trinity started the season ranked 10^th in the weekly polls, climbed to number 8 last week, and should be in the top five by Tuesday. Yet nothing they do in this regular season will satisfy them.

“Now we know that even if we run the table in the regular season and get first place, it doesn’t mean we’re going to get into the national tournament,” said Brewer, embarking on his final season of college hockey. “We’ve got to make sure we take care of business in the NESCAC tournament, to get to where we want to be in March.”

The coach offered a sober reminder Friday. “We’ve got a long, long way to go, and we’ve got to get a lot, lot better if we’re going to do that.” Greason will have the full attention of his squad this week after they dropped a point in a 1-1 tie with Hamilton Saturday afternoon. But the Bantams offense still peppered the Continentals with 44 shots and won’t be denied often this year.

They have outscored their opponents 22-7 to open the 2014-15 campaign, and are taking all the required steps to become champions. They sprint through practices and games in their collective mission, using all their self-control not to focus on a very special date on the calendar—January 16. The Bantams head north that third Friday of the coldest month for a showdown with the Polar Bears of Bowdoin in Brunswick, Maine. Trinity’s first meeting with the team that ended their dream season last March is appointment viewing. Time to get your Live Stream on.

  

A father pens a pucky son

Installment 1

Rooster Boosters  - The snort of a dreaming animal, probably a mule, wakes another and another and then another until the rooster’s call caps the NESCAC hockey barnyard cacophony. Good Morning Good Morning! It is a great day for hockey.

Our roster of roosters rise from this summer of our discontent and flock to the frozen oval to embrace this season of great expectations.

The Bantams cast a wary eye on the NCAA bestowed etched tablets recognizing achievements of last year. There’s a new pecking order in NE Small College AC, reflected with Trinity ranked #7 nationally in a preseason poll, but our cocksure skaters are focused on only one prize.

Our birds of prey play the braying camels to break the ice Saturday, November 15 at 7:00 at Conn College.  The Bantams flew home as winners last year in OT courtesy of a fluttering puck off a leg and into the net. On November 15, Video of the game is available here.

The Boston-based Trinity hockey tribe gives thanks early this year (no road trip) with the Jumbo game against Tufts at the Valley Forum in Malden onSunday, November 16 at 4. On November 16, Video of the game is available here.

Notable tilts fill the playlist starting with the banner raiser November 21 at 7:30 at the Koeppel Coop on campus against the Lord Jeffs.  Amherst went 2-0 against Trinity last year.

Us Statesmen mark the contest against Hobart, a perennial ECAC West contender, in beautiful Geneva, NY Saturday, December 6 at 4PM.

See you at a rink this Winter

Cockle doodle doo

-----------------

Rooster Boosters – The Crowing continued unabated in Hartford Friday night with the Bantams lording over the Amherst Jeff's, 7-2, the third straight such score to open the season. The Roosters were warmed by the Ryan Cole-fired stove as he recorded a hat trick. A video of one his goals is attached.

Saturday, the Trinity high scoring identity met the cold wind of Hamilton’s Canadian freshman goaltender. The bad news is the Bantams ended their modest 3-game winning streak by tying 1-1. The good news is that Trinity is still undefeated, ranked 8^th in the USCHO poll and perched atop the NESCAC standings with the Bowdoin White Bears and the Williams White Ephelants.

After pausing to give thanks for the blessings of youth and skill, the Roosters resume with two Massachusetts Out of Conference opponents this weekend.

The Bantams dodge uDart’s mouth barbs Saturday at 4 at home.

T-day weekend Sunday at 3, Trinity is tested by a foe also in the USCHO top ten, the UBoston Beacons. The Beacons are undefeated and lead DIII in scoring per game.

Both games are available on through the internet available by following this link at game time.

Cockle doodle doo

------------------

Bantam Boosters - The rested and relaxed roosters routed the UMass-Dartmouth Coarsehairs, 9-1, night of T-day weekend setting up a showdown between the top two scoring teams in DIII hockey, Trinity’s Hartford Heartbreakers against UMass-Boston's Beacons.

The Ice - T men's top line tallied twice (identical score sheet entries: Rigger to Brewer to Orlando, see the first one on the attachment) in the first period and led 3-1 early in the second before a Beacon rally, triggered by the power play, left the Roosters trailing 4-3 after two. The high scoring offense abandoned both teams throughout the third. Despite the best efforts of both sides, the only goal was an empty netter, pinning the first loss of the season on the Bantams.

The foray out of conference continues against the Utica Pioneers this Friday at 7PM in the sold out Aud (seating capacity 3850, the movie Slapshot was filmed there). Thousands of upstate New York puck lovers have eagerly paid to see the most dangerous birds in DIII play the beautiful game. Watch on the internet live at game time by following this linkand clicking on ‘video’ next to this game on the schedule.

The next afternoon at 4PM the Roosters visit Finger Lakes farm country capital Geneva, to play the author's alma mater, Hobart, in its wind swept rink, the site of Dick and Den's thrilling, historic intramural hockey championship victory. For those of you not in the area, watch on the internet live at game time by following this link and clicking on ‘video’ next to this game on the schedule.

Cockle doodle doo

Movie Theaters Last Stand?

AMC Movies, Prepare for Lift Off! 

Faced with a few options on Friday night, I opted old school -- a trip to the movies and ss some of you know, morally I'm OK with theater hopping in the multi-plexes. I saw an interesting lineup during my Internet prep, so I loaded up with cashews and almonds, pen and paper to scribble notes, and an oversized bike lock that felt like a Bandero bullet belt, and began my adventure to the AMC theater complex in downtown Morristown.

It turns out that the Theater Complex itself was the night's biggest star.

AMC, desperate to reverse a near double-digit % decline in ticket-paying movie customers, has sunk fortunes into upgrading the movie-going experience.  Their creatives have clearly borrowed from the concept of luxury airliners in their attempt to keep the masses coming back. AMC's Mo-Town complex has been so dramatically refurbished and reconstructed that I felt a tad out of step walking my bike throught the complex. But I found a useful niche under a staircase 20 steps from the ticket line to lock up and tried to merge into the scene. Seconds later I was flailing at curveballs. Before being allowed to pay an entirely reasonable $11 ($15 in the urban centers of NYC and L.A.), I had to choose a seat from the tiny electronic display; different colors for either taken or available seats.  Cursing the fading rods and cones in my baby-boomer peepers, the whole process took about four times as long as intended. Philosophically, booking a seat was the last think I wanted to do on a night devoted to movie nomadism: I was here to stick and move and take in a half dozen films. But eventually I committed to Lucy, a sci-fi variation of La Femme Nikita.

My next attempt in this covert operation went from bad to worse. Having purchased a ticket for an 8pm start and entering at 6:30 set off the queer meter. Big old Ken was taking tickets, a 300 pound black man who looked like a Jets walk on, and had an electronic two way radio earpiece and a shiny black security uniform.  He starts speaking into his sleeve to get permission for me to enter so early. My rationale was pretty lame--to visit the concession stand, but in the name of revenues I was given the green light to bound up the stairs, albeit with a blown cover. I'm pretty sure they didn't have my SSN, but they had swiped my all-important magnetic strip.

Paralysis Through Analysis?

There were six theaters both upstairs and on the main floor, but I had no intention to tangle with Ken again, so I was relegated to the offerings upstairs.  The concession stands were both pricy and gleaming, and I was curious if I could get a half Sprite/half club soda to go with the mixed nuts I smuggled in. And for the first time at a theater, I saw the 200-option self serve soda fountains, which shaved precious minutes from the waiting line. I forked over a fin for a small (20 oz.) Cup and went to work.  The bathrooms were futuristic as well, with the latest technology hand drying between the two wash basins. The ones where you dip your hands into 30 knott winds and are dry in ten seconds?  The signs said they would help save the world. I felt too insignificant next to the supreme science to argue.

Fading Sex Symbol?

Fully prepped, I headed into my first film of the night... I shuffled through the dark trying to adjust my eyes, and found myself in a first class flight on Virgin Airways.  Rich red leather seating, 1.5 bodies wide, and fully reclinable. I saw couples lying down next to each other and was embarrassed. They could have conceived a couple of children before touching down in Heathrow for crying out loud.  This kind of intimacy was definitely not what I had in mind for the night's nomad strategy.  The film was titled Sex Tape.  Ugh.  A (hopefully) last stand for Cameron Diaz as an upper middle class house wife ripping her dorky husband for turning loose a sex tape via a bunch of I-Pads.  This script was based on a very funny TV commercial where a guy tries to delete a stupid email from a million inboxes.  The film version was brutal; I lasted less than 10 minutes.

Speaking Softly Carrying a Big Stick? Well, half right.

Off to see the Rock in Hercules. You got lots of thundering ancient Mediterranean battles and death along the lines of 300 and Achilles, but also some welcome wisecracking from Ian McShane, which may have elevated the film beyond pure cartoon violence.  NOTE: if you attend this film, stick around for the credits, full of fun music and animation, my favorite part. Again, the luxury air ship surrounding each screen was entirely off-putting, and I pushed on.

Quiet Farewell to the Legend

I found myself in what I believe is the last film from the legend Phillip Seymour Hoffman, A Most Wanted Man. I love Hoffman, and grieved at his death, but could not connect with the film.  Attractive cast, nuanced directing and super solid acting, especially by Hoffman.  Wanted Man captured the dark Hamburg scenes effectively, but the dramatic tension simply wasn't there, at least not enough to care about. I stayed longer than I wanted, and finally went to my assigned seat at Lucy.

Hard not to Love Lucy

And it was good. Scarlett Johansson was smart and hot and Morgan Freeman was better. Story almost worked, though it got a bit too 2001 Space Odyssey at the end, though how can you complain about traces of Stanley Kubrick.  I stumbled out around 10 pm to bike home in the mist, glad that my headlight still functioned.  As I passed by Ken and into the lobby, I saw the poster for a movie I genuinely wanted to see, Get On Up, featuring the funk and soul of James Brown. I wasn't ready to tangle again with big ol' Ken, but maybe I'll be willing to spend another $11 and take in the full round trip to Heathrow, fully reclined, next weekend. If AMC and the movie industry is about to go belly up, at least they aren't going out without a flight.

Busiest Man in Show Business

Untold Story of the legend of Ol Nassau

To those outside of the H-Y-P inner circle, this is Hobey Baker. His portrait haunts the halls of his former dining club, Ivy, on the campus of Princeton University.  His legend never fades in Ol' Nassau; for the uninitiated, Hobey's athletic exploits at Princeton earned him spots in three different Halls of Fame.  He was the ultimate gentleman as well, shaking hands with every rogue who cheap-shotted him on the muddy gridiron and in icy corners.  He died like Icarus immediately following WWI, flying too close to the sun and crashing in front of his teary mates.  It's a tidy little legend, still perpetuated annually with the Hobey Baker Award, Hockey's Heisman trophy.

Except it's a bit too tidy. Hobey suffered from terrible insecurity, couldn't hold a job, and as America's most eligible bachelor for nearly a decade, managed but a single romantic relationship, which failed miserably. A compelling case could be made that Hobey took his own life in December 1918, offing himself rather than returning to a new world that had no place for him.

Wealthy Trophy Hunter Percy Pyne

In reality, Hobey had two noteworthy personal relationships, one with a man, Percy Pyne, and one with a woman, Mimi Scott.  Both Pyne and Scott were big game hunters, seeing Hobey as the ultimate trophy to bolster their social aura. Pyne was a fabulously wealthy Manhattan bachelor, offering his "dubious" hospitality to Hobey. Baker roomed at Pyne's Madison Avenue mansion for two years following graduation. A fellow Princeton alum 10 years his elder, Pyne took Hobey under his wing and introduced him to polo, tennis, golf and auto racing at his various clubs on Long Island.  When Hobey was in WWI France, Pyne sent him frequent gifts including a silver cigarette case and Brooks Brothers underwear by the dozen.

Mimi Scott (L) Hobey's Femme Fatale

Newport mansion heiress and famed socialite Mimi Scott was Hobey's Femme Fatale. She joined the Red Cross to get to France and rendezvous with Baker during the Great War. A short engagement was terminated prematurely after Scott abruptly dismissed Baker, leaving Hobey dazed and confused. She married an embassy man in France a month later, the day Baker died in his infamous crash. Some say Baker never recovered from the abandonment.

There is a fascinating story about the life and death of Hobey Baker, much more interesting than the polished version that endures today. Princeton University archives house a cache of letters that are quite revealing: an extensive eyewitness report of Hobey's clearly avoidable crash; this startling quote from Hobey after graduation: "I realize my life is finished. No matter how long I live, I will never equal the excitement of playing on the football fields;" syrupy war time notes between Hobey and Percy; and a defense of Hobey's manhood from his closest hockey teammate. That teammate, Wendell Kuhn, was terribly disapproving of Hobey's relationship with Pyne. These are some of the letters that help connect the dots of a complex and tragic life.

Television Special 
With the proper host, the untold story of Hobey Baker would make important viewing. Due to the abundance of timeless architecture at Princeton and the lack of moving pictures, talent on-camera spots will be vital to generate quality visual content. The host needs to be familiar with the Princeton campus in order to take the viewer on this Ivy League paper chase, an energetic personality to help reveal the oft-times tormented life of the gilded Baker.

Story Arc 
The story-line arc of the TV special will flow as follows: 
I: Establish the legendary sports persona of Hobey, essentially a preppy Jim Thorpe. His amazing sportsmanship, grace and innocence made him a favorite character of F. Scott Fitzgerald's fiction. Fitzgerald hero-worshipped Baker when they were both undergraduates at Princeton.
II: Reveal Hobey's emotional frailty through his letters, how he was scared of dating girls, felt worthless away from the playing fields, and had some kind of death complex when he arrived in France for WWI. Hobey's letters from France convey a strong fraternal love for Pyne, confusion regarding Mimi Scott and trepidation regarding his return to pedestrian life.
III: Conclusion, which will feature two primary documents: 1) A letter from Hobey's Princeton advisor Donald Herring who witnessed his fiery death in France. In the letter Herring fiercely contests the issue of suicide, stating emphatically that Hobey died heroically attempting to save himself; and 2) Wendell Kuhn's passionate defense of Hobey's masculinity.

Conclusion 
In summary, we will learn how Hobey led a life with much more angst than one would expect of a beautiful sports hero, national champion, All-American and Hall-of-Famer in two wildly popular sports. We will learn that Hobey's life arc as a physical deity had a limited run, and how he apparently knew that. Regarding the two lingering questions that are still whispered about today, primary sources will be introduced to help illuminate the issues of both his death and his sexuality. All of this information will be driven by a recognizable on-camera host, as they pursues this paper chase amidst the iconic gothic architecture of Princeton University.

Video 
Below are examples of talent on/camera locations and their content.

The fifth camera location is at Hobey's former off-campus home in Princeton, 1 mile from campus.

King Size Anger and Heartache

Dwight Crowds the King

How can a team get "jobbed" by the refs in a series in which they lost 4 out of 5 games and lost the battle for 50-50 pucks by nearly the same percentage? The Rangers were representing the Eastern Conference which was glaringly inferior to the powerhouse clubs from the West. The Kings did what was expected, finishing the Rangers in a short series after being pushed to 7 games by legit contenders San Jose, Anaheim and Chicago.  With their army of oversized talent at every position and 2 Cups in three season, the "Dynasty" word is not hyperbole for this squad. Yet, yet, the argument that the Kings needed the refs to beat the Rangers just won't go away.

Little Big Man

It was the third period of the 2014 Stanley Cup Finals. By definition, a troubling time for New York Rangers Nation.  In 4 of the 5 games the Rangers saw leads dissolved and Kings dominate their games to such extremes that the ice appeared to tilt toward the Rangers. Such was the case in game 5 when the hockey Hobbit Mats Zuccarello came flying out of his zone and skated into a partially extended leg of Kings D Jake Muzzin.  Ref sees high speed contact, Muzzin goes down dramatically, arm goes up, Zucc to box.  With the benefit of replay, U.S. TV analysts conclude that the refs sent the wrong man to the box.  This was a second crucial borderline call that the refs got wrong, and scarred the series in the eyes of NYR Nation.

Taking the macro view and using logical statistical analysis along with all mountains of visual evidence, the Kings dominated this series: Rangers players on hands and knees trying to survive the three games that went to overtime and their solitary victory; nearly a 10-1 ratio of shots on goal in third periods with the game on the line; a staggering edge to the Kings faceoffs, hits and grade A chances.  Yet upon closer review, without 3 glaring officiating mistakes, this series might still be underway. If you project the "What Could Have Been" argument to its extreme, the Rangers could be playing Monday with a chance to clinch the Cup.  The Team that played .200 ball in the Finals.  And that's quite a dichotomy.

None of these arguments could be made if the Rangers had any goalie other than Henrik Lundqvist between the pipes. He was the X-factor that kept the Rangers in all these games, and his will made this such a long short series. Five extra periods of hockey in five games is not a short series.  Now, keep in mind that these two calls did not determine the games, but in both cases the Rangers were clinging to leads with no margin for error, and the calls proved to be backbreakers, especially the first.  Game 2, Rangers enjoying their third 2-goal lead of the game, 4-2 in third period. If you recall, the Kings fans were ticked off, actually booing the Western Champs.  Mountain man Dwight King flashed through the blue paint of Lundqvist's crease, taking the route inside of Ryan McDonagh, leading to inevitable contact.  The jostling literally prevented Lundqvist from using his blocker on a puck he saw but could not save, and 4-2 third period lead became 4-3 and the building came to life.  To a neutral observer it was a clear case of injustice.  The best player on the ice was unable to do his job due to obstruction, getting no protection in his own crease from those whose job it is to do just that.  Hockey anarchy.  Do the Kings win without the benefit of that non-call?  Probably not.  As in probability-wise, percentage wise, the team holding a two-goal lead in the third period, in a building that turned against the home team, would have won.  And now you have a seed of righteous indignation planted and ready to sprout.  In the Overtime a Kings player lofted a puck out of danger in his own end, touching nothing after vigorous video inspection, yet no call. Insult to injury.

Rangers collapsed on themselves in game 3, unable to respond to Jeff Carter's dagger at the end of the 1st period, and the Rangers were in clear and present danger of being swept.  If this series had been a sweep, a strong case could have been made that the League's on-ice team in stripes had royally f***ed up its marquis event. That is anathema to the suits on 6th Ave and their ops department in Toronto.  It's really bad business and they know it.  And low and behold Game 4, in which most NYR transgressions were given a free pass and heaping helpings of puck luck allowed the home team blue shirts to salvage a single game of the Finals. But to most astute observers, the third period the Kings most dominant, and Rangers most helpless. They had won nothing more than a cross-country flight to see another team's coronation.

And then the game unfolded. A couple of U.S. College kids from Boston scored on consecutive shots, and the Rangers had yet another third period lead.  And as for the veteran Boyle, whose goal was the best in the finals since Darren McCarty in 1997, his performance in the Finals has earned the UFA enough wealth to send his grandchildren to Boston College.  Must digress on that goal, with seconds left before a giddy intermission.  He received a pass in stride at the blue line off a brilliant play from Hagelin (they really are Batman and Robin on the P.K.), he froze the best defenseman in hockey and (dare I say it?) gradefully stepped around the indomitable Drew Doughty.  Two strides late he caught USA Olympic star goalie Jonathan Quick shuffling to his right and BOOM, the wrist shot was stuck in the upper reaches of the net, top shelf.  On a Full Moon Friday the 13th, Rangers fans were in full howl.

And then the third period, and the now customary 3d period desperation for the Rangers.  The Kings seemingly endless collection of John Waynes on skates were rag-dolling the Ranger Smurfs, but unable to penetrate the proud Swede King Henrik.  Until they got that critical power play.  On a blown call.  Again.  As NBC's Mike Milbury said during the first OT intermission. "After a rough go of it early, they (the league's officials) were sailing along, and then this." Yes, this.  USA's biggest media market had taken a liking to these blue shirted upstarts, and they watched them get screwed (clearly not intentionally) by league officials, the majority of whom are hockey fans who live in the New York metro area. They have to hear from disgruntled fans about their officiating incompetence for the foreseeable future.  They made the bed, and they might have to sleep in sandpaper for a bit.

Lest there be any confusion, the right team won.  The NYR squandered 4 two-goal leads in the first two games of the Finals.  I sincerely doubt that has ever happened before. Had the Kings lost either Game 2 or Game 5, there is substantial evidence that they would have prevailed no matter how long the series went. They had, after all, done the same thing against three western opponents all superior to the NYR. The Kings are a force that is the new standard for NHL teams to copy: Big and Heavy.  And what a defense corps: Doughty, Greene, Muzzin, Voynov, Martinez and Willie Mitchell.  Combined with Quick between the pipes and you have a magnificent "Sacred Seven." While on the topic of defense, one cannot ignore the brilliant play of Rangers Anton Stralman.  The Kings might even have a little defense-envy at the play of this Nordic Hockey God, who deserves to be mentioned in the same breath as Niklas Lidstrom. Yeah, that good. And before signing off on the reign of Kings, their young forward guns with speed, size, shots, and yes, weight, projects them into the Conference Finals for the next decade or so.

Some consolation for the Rangers fans, there are at least two Finals in memory in which the losing team got hosed worse than you did in the Finals. 1999 Brett Hull's crease violation Cup winner in Game 6, before the NHL changed the rule that off-season. It was double overtime in Buffalo and the camera crews burst through the Zamboni doors before any video review.  The second outrageous hose job was in the 2004 Finals in which the Game 6 video review showed persuasively that the Calgary Flames had won the Stanley Cup in overtime, only to be ignored.  Martin St. Louis got the game winner for the Bolts shortly thereafter, setting the stage for Brad Richards' heroics in Tampa, Game 7.  The late, great, Brad Richards.  Does that salve any wounds Ranger fans? That it could have been worse?

Playoff Scramble Without Cable

Captain Dave and Kenny to the Radio Rescue 

Said F.U. to my cable lords right before getting assignment to cover all NYR home games through the playoffs.  Have had to scramble to follow these playoffs, consuming media in various forms and places...

* Twitter feeds via smart phone on midnight train from MSG

* Appointment viewing of NBC mothership on weekend afternoons at the bachelor pad

* Watching tops of players' heads from Chase Bridge at MSG, a good angle for coaches.

* Watched 2 Ranger overtimes in crowded MSG press room, waiting to dash to press holding area for post-game sound bites.  TV was on :10 delay, so we all heard the cheering of Martin St. Louis' OT thriller in ECF GM 4, but had to ask strangers who scored the goal because we couldn't wait around to see it on delay.

* Listening to Kenny Albert calling NYR road games with Dave Maloney on radio. Full stereo on ESPN radio allows for spectacular puck and skate sound effects to come through, better than TV.  Full disclosure: When the Rangers came back from a 4-1 deficit in Montreal during ECF GM 5, I had to jump in the car to catch barnburner on TV in outpost listed below.

* Watched majority of the games away from MSG at favorite neighborhood watering hole, most times without audio, some times with a live band playing at my back. Monday viewing always better than Friday. There were times I was outside the bar standing on windowsill viewing the big screen while being radiated by neon. It was a pretty good view, and it seemed to make sense at the time.

* Invited myself to a coaching colleague's home in the suburbs, who transferred us to a friend's house with a NASA like viewing area, the 4-recliner semi circle around the monster screen with surround sound audio, complete with cup holders. Thought I was in viewing heaven until the two right wing Christians started complaining about U.S. liberal politicians funding international abortion clinics.  I carefully stated the position from the People's Republic of Cambridge and then felt the hospitality dry up.  I made it out unscathed, but it was a One-Time-Only affair.

* Family issues brought me into deep south during conference semis.  Found a sports bar in South Carolina to watch Pitt-NYR GM 7.  Watched with transplanted Pittsburgh couple that knew the sport very well, knew their team even better.  They predicted immediate dismissal of coach Bylsma after game; there was a dismissal, but it was good guy GM Shero who got the quick axe instead.

* Found myself in family celebration dinner in Atlanta next night for B's-Montreal. As soon as last morsels from the leg of lamb were carved off the bone, my cousin helped locate the remote. He was a former season ticket holder of Tampa Bay Lightning, and was my co-conspirator.

* In the midst of road trip, found myself in Ann Arbor, MI, big time hockey town, but women's college softball ruled the sports bar, as Lady Wolverines were advancing in NCAA's. Booths at the Anchor Bar had individual monitors with their own audio control...got to hear Doc call NYR.

* In Downtown Detroit, at the official Illitch Hockey Town bar/restaurant, had to fight off the NFL draft lovers to get a single monitor of Bruins-Habs, no sale on audio.  The first 15 minutes they put on NHL Network with its month-old highlights from reg season.  Hockey Town undersandably understaffed: it was evening in downtown Detroit and they closed up before the end of the game.

Quick roundup from the Penny Wise/Pound Foolish Division: All told, I probably spent between 2 and 3 times my inflated cable bill on food and drink at various establishments keeping tabs on the most exciting Cup run in recent memory.  The last three games of Chicago-L.A. were pure Nirvana, and worth every penny! And seeing that cable bill come in with a decimal point lopped off it is as close as I'll ever get to the feeling of scoring on a penalty shot.

The More Things Change...

...The more they stay the same.  Montreal defenseman P.K. Subban's Stanley Cup playoff heroics at the expense of the Bruins ignites a nasty racist response in Boston. One of America's most progressive cities ignites a vile Twitter campaign that makes Donald Sterling's comments appear positively tame by comparison. This extreme dichotomy is certainly worth exploring. First off, full disclosure: I am a liberal weenie from the People's Republic of Cambridge.  I have produced several TV specials on sports and race including an ESPN doc "Black Ice" about black hockey stars Anson Carter and Mike Grier, so there is a discernible slant to this rant.

Telling this particular episode of sports and race in Boston requires a bit of local history refreshers, both good and bad: 1) Willie O'ree broke the NHL color barrier for the Bruins in 1957;

Willie O'Ree, the Jackie Robinson of Hockey

2) the Red Sox, however, were the last MLB team to break the color barrier, as plantation owner Tom Yawkey kept his ball club lilly white for decades after Jackie Robinson's breakthrough, at the expense of the club's winning percentage. It wasn't until they began to integrate that they lived their Impossible Dream in 1967 and became winners; 3) Bill Russell bummed out the entire super-talented force of narcissistic Boston sports media of Boston by calling the Hub the most racist city in America in the midst of the Celtics championship dynasty in the 1960's.  Since Russ was the lynchpin of 11 championships in 13 years, his statement clearly dampened the feel-good buzz of a sports fairy tale.

Fast forward TWO generations, and witness the Boston fans reaction to a dark skinned man beating their beloved Bruins.  It started with angry booing and a bottle tossed at Subban who scored the winning goal in overtime.

Vile is too kind a word for the Twitter response. The "N-word." Hurts to type it, hurts to read it. The "N word" was actually trending on Twitter in Boston. One fan posted a photo of a noose. Over 17,000 Tweets contained both "Subban" and the "N-word." That's enough racist hockey fans to fill the TD Bank Garden. Bruins president Cam Neely quickly sought to distance his club from the racist backlash:

"The racist, classless views expressed by an ignorant group of individuals following Thursday's game via digital media are in no way a reflection of anyone associated with the Bruins organization."

Sadly, Neely issued a nearly identical statement two years earlier when the Washington Caps Joel Ward beat the Bruins in overtime of Game 7 in the 2012 playoffs. When push comes to shove in the passion play that is Boston hockey fandom, the "N-word" is the the default response to a stadium full of fans. 

Now spend a C-note on an Amtrak ride down to Philly, a comparably sized city that shares its revolutionary history with Boston along with a similar passion for its own NHL club.  A couple of weeks ago a player of color scored a playoff hat trick for the Flyers, and Wayne Simmonds received an outpouring of hockey love in the form of hundreds of ball caps.  It created one of the longest hat trick delays in memory as the rink staff shoveled the caps into bins. So clearly the hockey world is ready to throw something other than bottles a black hockey star.


Ironically, Boston is also willing to love hockey player of color. Future Hall of Famer Jarome Iginla, a black man, was adored in Beantown when he scored the OT winner in Game 4 vs Detroit.  And here's where it gets a little freaky, the goaltending future for Boston is P.K. Subban's brother Malcolm, currently a member of the AHL

Malcolm Subban, Bruins 1st Round Draft Pick

Providence Bruins, an hour down the road from the Garden.  If and when he leads the Bruins to Cup contention, he too inevitably be loved by the Beantown faithful.  The question to the racist Boston hockey fans is, where is the empathy?  If you can root for a black member of your own squad, how can you tweet "N-word" as the default response to losing to a black man? The brother of your goaltending future?

There is no defined solution here, just confusion and wishful thinking.  A quick observational anecdote as we ponder hatred and intolerance in a city known for free thinking.  In the late 1980's I was in the upper sections of the old Boston Garden known as the "N-Heavens," watching the powerhouse Quebec Nordiques eliminate a decent Bruins squad. The Nordique was a foreign team, led by French Speaking superstar Michel Goulet.  The club's uniform contained the Fleur-de-Lis, as does the Quebec Province flag, the same flag the brave fans sitting next me waved proudly as the Nordique were closing out the Bruins in Boston.

Flaming Ignorance

The visiting Quebec faithful were crowded by drunk Bruins fans who hated the idea of foreigners beating the Black in Gold in their own building.  So they closed in on the French fans and took out their disposable lighters and did their best to set fire to the flag.  This senseless act occurred despite the fact that the old Boston Garden was a firetrap, and they were but a few feet from the ceiling that could have ignited in a heartbeat. Fortunately some ushers were in the vicinity and put an end to the idiocy, but it symbolizes how intolerance trumps self interest. Even in the Hub of modern Enlightened thinking.

The final word comes from P.K., describing how racist fans are merely ignorant, and that he has friends of all color, including purple.  Hearing his friendly tolerance gives us all hope.

  

Hating thy Neighbor

When it comes to measuring the intensity of a college hockey rivalry, a good place to start is geography. If you live in the midwest, you might bring up Michigan-Michigan State. They are an hour drive from each other, they share lots of national titles and a vast cultural divide.  New Englanders have Boston College and Boston University, perhaps the ultimate college hockey rivalry, with a mere 3.6 miles between Agganis and and Kelly rinks.  They divided 3 consecutive NCAA titles between them from 2008 to 2010.  Boston's Comm. Ave rivalry might be the poster child for NCAA border wars.

Does the St. Lawrence River ever thaw?

But how many conferences can boast three different pairs of rivals all within 15 minutes of each other? That title belongs to ECAC hockey, a conference that contains a trio of border skirmishers each with its own history and nuance.  First there is the North Country rivalry, Clarkson and St. Lawrence. They share a classic Route 11 commute between the two campuses, 10 frozen miles along the St. Lawrence River.  They've been hacking and whacking since 1925, creating a rich history whose halcyon days were in the early 1990's when they were both national contenders. Huddling inside 60 year old Appleton Arena with sub-0 temps outside is an annual rite in North Country, comparable to any scenes of pure winter depicted in Ken Dryden's masterpiece, The Game.

Yale hockey rivals? New Cat in Town

A fresher pair of rivals is Yale and Quinnipiac, blue collar Hamden versus the snooty academics from New Haven.  The Yale Bulldogs played in America's first intercollegiate hockey game vs Johns Hopkins in 1896, and have century-old rivalries with Harvard, Dartmouth, Brown, Princeton and Cornell, yet it is the upstarts from Quinnipiac that has Keith Allain spitting mad. The Yale skip bolted the ECAC Hockey press conference in Atlantic City last year after being shut out by Q'piac in the tourney consolation game.  These are the greatest years in Yale hockey history, and despite their 2013 NCAA title win over the Bobcats, they have been getting repeatedly whipped by their neighbors, 11 miles down Whitney Avenue.  Yale-Quinnipiac is the ECAC version of BC-BU, and is certainly comparable in terms of entertainment.  The Bobcats ended the Bulldogs NCAA title defense last month in a nasty game that started off chippy and ended in violence. Forget the Ancient 8, when it comes to Yale hockey rivals, it's now Quinnipiac that has the attention of the Bulldogs. Yeah, they fight like Cats and Dogs.

But it's the third of the ECAC Hockey neighborhood rivals that is the talk of the Frozen Four in Philly. Union College is 14 miles from their Capital District rivals at RPI.  Despite its Division II and III history, Union has long since shed the label of little brother to RPI, racking up a recent 10-game win streak over the school with 2 NCAA Championship banners. Not only do they play each other home and home, but they clash annually in a high-profile Mayor's Cup game in Albany, one of the most popular events in a great hockey city.  The Capital of New York is a minor league hockey town, one in which the smell of beer and sight of blood is a frequent occurrence. As any college hockey fan with a YouTube account knows, the 2014 Mayor's Cup battle ended in a lusty brawl in which the coaches were the main event. It was as intense as anything from the days of the AHL River Rats, and as seen below, caused Union coach Rick Bennett to flash back to his 1991 season in AHL Binghampton. That year he earned plenty of his 200 plus PIMs banging guys in red uniforms in this very building.

The Cap district main urban centers of Schenectady, Rensselaer and Albany formed a Devil's triangle that weekend, as the two school converged on Albany, the home of the league offices and commissioner Steve Hagwell.  The Commish worked overtime that weekend in the Capital, handing out supplemental discipline to players and coaches on both side of the Mighty Hudson River. Face-to-face meetings with each perpetrator required less than a 15-minute drive for all parties involved.  The fact that Albany is a newspaper town, with two dailies competing for college hockey scoops, kept this "Capital Calamity" in the news cycle for days on end in January. College hockey rules in the Cap District.

6 teams, 3 passionate regional hockey rivalries, 1 very fortunate conference.  Here in Philadelphia, ECAC Hockey is looking to crown a second consecutive national champion from one of their passionate border rivalries. Familiarity breeds more than just contempt.