Black Ice Vancouver

Roberto Luongo kicked out his left pad as he went down in a harmless butterfly to curb a point shot from Philippe Boucher and got up five minutes later with the help of trainer Mike Burnstein and two of his teammates. After an MRI he was revealed to have an Adductor Strain, which is in the groin. Basically a kick in the balls to Luongo, his team and ultimately us, the fans.

And who to the rescue? Was that Sanford flopping around the ice, repelling rebounds and making a case for height/heart comparisons to Richard Brodeur? I think so. Its funny I always wondered what Curtis Sanford looked like behind that terrible — fan designed — mask. If the wins keep stockpiling as will the media coverage. Consequently, his affable mug will keep appearing in post-game interviews sans awful mask.

The team loves him. The media loves him. The fans like him — for now.

Its a good thing he’s so amiable because it seems for some strange reason that Luongo’s injury has really made the team rally. Perhaps its proof of talent that actually exists in the locker room. Perhaps its a message to the team that they have been riding Luongo and that some of the talent needs to come out of the woodwork. They have more on this team then meets the (bandwagonesque) eye. You don’t just take for granted the fact that you play in front of the world’s best goalie — you build on it.  Yes, Luongo has been stellar of late and yes, I gasped and writhed along with Canuck Nation for those five minutes while Blue was down. But the statement must be poised: perhaps this team is good enough.

Three Items to note.

First, the Canucks beat the Penguins. While down a few gunners from last year, not-to-mention suffering an injury plague lately, this Pittsburgh squad is no joke. Went to the Stanley Cup finals on the backs Malkin and Crosby who make up the best one-two combo in the league. The two are combined for 63 points already this season and show no sign of slowing down. Except with the Canucks.

Second, the Sedins and Pavol Demitra  — or the PHD line — as they are positively doctoral in their precision with the puck. At times, during their career, watching the Sedins is like dating a model. When they look good, they are gorgeous, Le Belle Dame Sans Merci. But other times, when they’re just laying around the house watching The Hills, wearing your old sweatsuit and no makeup, you can’t help but think, “Jesus, pull yourselves together”. Nothing is uglier than a model not modeling. Nothing is more dead weight then the Sedins not scoring goals. Enter Pavol Demitra. The slippery Slovak blasted out of the gate and scored 10 points in his last 10 games and has combined with the Sedins for an eye popping 23 points. The re-kilned top-line has sent a message to the league — we are beautiful and we are without mercy.

Third, the brotherhood. The mauling of Curtis Sanford after the win over Minnesota could have been a case of — we’re glad that our backup stole a game for us. Yippee. Move on. As languid as the Canucks play over Pittsburgh was, because in truth neither team played that well, it was the spiritedness (or what Homer referred to as thumos in his epic poems) the vaunted the team through adversity. With the shipment of Naslund and Morrison and the retirement of Linden a leadership deficit existed that has now started to close.

Willie Mitchell is playing the best hockey of his career. He is shutting down teams top lines every game and his easy going, good natured attitude has help some of the younger players flourish. Mattias Ohlund is a horse, Trojan in nature, that sneaks in the opposing teams back door and battles from the inside. Whether he is pinching in off the rush, or standing guard over Luongo’s crease, he is often felt before he is  seen or heard. And when he drops the gloves, I can’t help but fire out a hearty “fuck yeah,” because you know whoever he’s beating deserves the shellacking Ohlund is dishing out. Ryan Kesler is the third cog in the Canucks leadership wheel. I had him pegged for Captain all last year, but when Luongo was eccentrically given the “C” (and rightly deserved), it was team management that had the foresight to see the potential of Kesler and gave him the “A”. It is the domination of these fellows on the ice that keeps the entire squad focused, even as the Captain is convalescing, and cements a burning spirit within the whole group which launches them from win to win.

I get goosebumps when the Canucks are victorious; ire when they loose. As Luongo went down with his groin injury, it was the team that was growing up. This leads to another poised statement: It is not so much if any more with this team, but when.

Next Up — Detroit

“[T]hird game in four nights in the New York area,” was how coach Vee summed up the travel schedule. The Canucks played the Islanders and the Rangers on Monday and Wednesday night respectively, then flew to St. Paul, Minnesota to take on the Wild Thursday and now they have to get back on a plane a fly to Steel Town to face the Penguins on Saturday. Say what you will about West Coast travel, this one has to go down in the annals of most ridiculous travel for a professional sports team ever. (Our friend over at Yankee Hockey has a pretty good solution for this).

The travel seemed to provide a spark that only a neurotic, semi-comatose team could compose. It was brilliant; it was sublime. Time will show the genius of this victory. The Vancouver Canucks composed a convincing win that could be seen as a turning point as the season continues.

The first period was basically expected. The Canucks looked limp yet the Wild stood vapid, empowering the suffocating wait-for-the-other-team-to-make-a-mistake-then-pound philosophy, gainfully employed by coach Jacques Lemaire. The end of the first stanza looked painfully akin to Kasparov Vs. Deep Blue with the Canucks looking the human of the two. Curtis Sanford (filling in for Luongo) was shaky albeit keeping Lemaire’s androids off the scoresheet.

The second period opened up as the Canucks and Wild traded chances but Mikko Koivu opened the scoring with a questionable slapper from the left point that squeaked under Sanford’s left elbow. This is where the Canucks superior offense began to mount. Steve Bernier beat a 9-game goalless drought when he smacked a Willie Mitchell rebound through a thatch of sticks and over Niklas Backstrom. In the slot is were we will see the best of Steve Bernier and getting the monkey off his back was a relief to himself and his teammates. Later, Koivu put Minnesota up one on a shorthanded marker, but Pavol Demitra answered right back on a fluke bank off his old netminders backside.

What became glaringly obvious during the second period was that Vancouver are the superior squad. While they lack the discipline of the Wild it is obvious there’s a lot of talent and potential on the team this year. The Sedins and Demitra are an example of this talent. All game I was thinking the Sedins needed to make a statement tonight. They are veterans now and they cannot continue to stand alone as victims. Enter Demitra. The crafty Slovak knows this is his last chance for prominence in the NHL. The three Canucks looked deadly (while five-on-five and on the PP with Kyle Wellwood) and in the third they showed the look of an actual, bonafide first line.

Trapping the Wild in their zone for almost a minute the Sedins and Demitra passed the puck a total of a thousand times, but when it was time to shoot, it was all net for Daniel. Minnesota looked dizzy after the goal and it stood as the game winner when the home team caved in the last few minutes of the match.

As previously mentioned, this squad looks legit. With a qualified first line. A very competent second line (with varying combinations of Pyatt, Wellwood, Bernier and Raymond) along with the checkers Burrows, Kesler and Hansen. Throw in role players such as Ryan Johnson and Darcy Hordichuk and you have a unique combination of speed, grit and talent. It is often the type of combination you see in squads that excel. See for example: New Jersey in ‘95 Montreal in ‘86.

The defense was weakened tonight by injury and the flu, but if they stay healthy they are the best in the league. Shane O’Brien only managed 7 penalty minutes (logging ten minutes last night in New York) so we could call this progress. Willie Mitchell got an assist and showed the length of his stick work in spades offering 4 blocked shots and was a +2 on the night. Mitchell continues to log points as he reaches beyond his traditional roll of stay-at-home defenseman. With Sami Salo and Kevin Bieksa out it goes to show the measure of leadership Mitchell has taken on after the departure of Naslund and Linden. He will do it all if he has to.

Iain MacIntyre stated in his column after the game,

“The Canucks defeated the Wild and the NHL’s cartographer, who drew a map and placed Manhattan next to Minneapolis and decided it would be a good idea if the Vancouver played the Rangers and Wild on successive nights. You know, with a good four or five hours sleep between games.”

It goes to show that a little bit of insomnia can go a long way.

Next Up — Pittsburgh

It was The Burr, in The Rink, with The Hockey Stick.

For one day, Markus Naslund was once again in the spotlight of the Vancouver sports media and for a change of pace, he actually helped the Canucks to a 6-3 pasting of the blueshirts. Of course the defensive lapses were the domain of Wade Redden and Henrik Lundqvist, but it was Naslund’s unique ability not to score that ultimately helped Vancouver’s cause.

The former Canucks captain, and franchise leading scorer, looked dangerous with his aloof style of finding ice, but he couldn’t capitalize on numerous chances to help dig his Rangers out of the 5-1 hole they dug for themselves in the first. The great goalie match-up — between Vezina hopefuls Roberto Luongo and Henrik Lunkqvist — anticipated by everyone before the game fizzled into an execution, gangland style. The Rangers, not without a reasonable effort, rattled off 39 shot on Luongo who played his best game (or at least made the prettiest saves) of the season.

There was little fanfare and little complaint. Quite simply the Canucks played their best, most complete game of the season. The only blotch was that Sami Salo left the game in the third to an undisclosed injury. Given how they play without him, it ain’t no thing. Besides, the Finn with the glassjaw always seems to bounce back. At this point, New York will have to bounce in a big way if they expect to prevail in June for a rematch of ‘94.

Next Up — Minnesota

Long gone are the days of Al Arbour and his high flying Islanders of the 80’s. While Vancouver’s franchise win percentage was sinking far below .500, like mercury in the antarctic, Arbour and the likes of Mike Bossy, Billy Smith and Brian Trottier we decimating the league in the relative obscurity of New York.

The 1982 Stanley Cup Final was a benchmark year for organizations on both sides of the conference divide. Vancouver bumbled around the .500 mark for most of the season and then went on a tear, losing only twice in their final 22 games (including playoffs). New York was coming of their second straight cup and they breezed through the regular season with 118 points. Mike Bossy, who would go on to win the Conn Smyth Trophy, scored 147 points in the regular season and was the difference maker between New York (blessed with talent and organization) and Vancouver (armed with a tenacious coach and gritty squad of veterans).

New York won that series, as most of you know. What that season did for the Canucks, long the laughing stock of the West Coast, was solidify the presence of hockey in the region and whet an appetite, long unsated, in the local fanbase.

Canucks Nation was born.

Tuesday’s prosaic game against the Islanders was a far cry from the heated battles of Mike Bossy and Tiger Williams. It was a reunion of Roberto Luongo and his former team (he played 24 games for the Isles before being traded by “Mad” Mike Milbury in 2000) that went as un-heralded as the game. The Canucks were out of the gate quick with a slick snapshot from the hashmarks by Pavol Demitra, but quickly sank into a particular show of mediocrity. Blue gave his team every opportunity to win, save score a goal, but in the end the Canucks can leave this one for the trash heap.

Until then, Canuck Nation shall wait.

Next Up — Rangers

Well (wood) that was convincing.

So much ink has been spilled over fortunes of the former Leaf Center, since he was claimed off waivers this summer by Vancouver, that extra vats may need to be imported to Canwest for the remainder of the campaign.

Baptized by the waiver draft, Kyle Wellwood has emerged as top line forward with hands of silk and a flair for the dramatic. The evidence was last night as Vancouver beat Toronto in a 4-2 lashing at the Air Canada Center. Wellwood opened the scoring with a beautiful re-direct from Pavol Demitra. After that is it was scoring by committee as the Canucks continue to roll through November defeated only once in regulation.

The best forward on the ice was Demitra who registered 3 assists on his first game back back from a rib injury that kept him side-lined for a month. The shifty Slovak quarterbacked the power-play and seemed to click well with the Sedins even-strength and five-on-five. This is a welcome effort for a team that slumped in the goals-for column despite going 5-1-2 this month.

One thing I liked about the broadcast was hearing the familiar colloquialisms of Jim Hewson ring out on the Hockey Night In Canada broadcast. As much as John Shorthouse is loved in Vancouver it was so nice to have the play-by-play guys stacked in both television (previously Hewson on Sportsnet) and radio (previously Shorthouse on Team1040). But its all much ado about nothing really, the fact is we were bless for years in B.C. with an abundance of broadcasting talent so its no wonder that CBC swooped in on Hewson. It was nice while it lasted.

Much like this victory which came as a must win for Vancouver. The reason it will be short lived is because they need to prepare for another must win in New York. The only way Vancouver can make the playoffs is if they beat the teams that are beatable and let Louie win the rest of them.

Up Next — Islanders

Peter Budaj stole this one for Colorado on Wednesday night. While Vancouver’s special teams slept, the Slovakian netminder for the Aves was peppered by the home team and came out on top with a performance straight out of the Canucks only-way-to-win playbook: perfect goaltending.

Its seems to me that Vancouver has lost some crucial games this year already to shitty goaltenders who happen to be having a Kevlar night.

Here is the question: are we getting beat by shitty goaltenders or are we, plain and simple, a shitty team?

The answer is — both. At times we are a shitty team. This usually means our powerplay is shit (vs Avalanche) or our penalty kill is shit (vs Detroit) or we just can’t score (vs Columbus). We also lose to shitty netminders (Peter Budaj) bad netminders (Chris Osgood) and highly overrated netminders (Pascal LeClair) so that the question which remains then evolves into a timeless chicken and the egg argument. Are we a shitty team because we lose to shitty goaltenders or do we lose to shitty goaltenders because we are a shitty team?

If you ask me, the simple answer to this puzzling riddle could arise from an emergency team bonding session over a bucket of Psilocybin Fungi. That’s right folks, I believe the resolution to this classic dilemma, and to the teams current identity crisis (and quite possibly the world financial crisis as well) would be to drop the entire Vancouver Canucks squad off in Stanley Park and feed them all Magic Mushrooms for an afternoon. Believe me, there is no better way to find your way then to chew on some funky ’shrooms for a few hours and bask in the revelations of the psychotropic universe.

That’s my two stems anyway.

Especially the Sedins. Can you imagine Daniel and Henrik walking up to the statue of Lord Stanley and the former Governor General explaining to the Swedish twins that Danny needs to pass more and Hank needs to shoot. How fuckin amazing would that be? The boys don’t need practice and scrimmages and set plays. They don’t need the coach calling them out in public and fans and media demanding action or “we want a trade!” and they certainly don’t need another linemate. NO. What the redheaded duplicates need is that which nature has provided. In this case it is not sex. In this case it is drugs. Plain and simple.

Of course some days it seems like the whole team has dipped into the time honored British Columbian tradition of smoking copious amounts of ganja. Our beloved provincial plant. But all that does in the end is make Kyle Wellwood hungry (and you know what that means, appetite enhancer anyone), Taylor Pyatt paranoid and Alex Burrows retarded.

Will the Buddha help us conquer Budaj? No, but a little taste of Tim Leary’s favorite vegetable and the direct path to Winsville could be just around the corner.

The Lemaire Doctrine states that defense wins games, goalies win cups, and a little bit of Claude Lemieux goes a long way.

Back in New Jersey in 1995, with a superstar back-end, consisting of Martin Brodeur, Scott Stevens and Scott Niedermayer, Jacques Lemaire perfected his defensive system using a pedestrian group of forwards and the neutral zone trap. By 1996 other teams in the NHL had caught sight of Lemaire’s tactics and the dreaded “clutch and grab” era of hockey was unearthed. While tight checking affairs weren’t common place in the whirling dervish of offensive hockey circa 1984 Edmonton, it was, however, common for a team to buckle down into a more defensive-minded system once the playoffs rolled around.

The expansion of the league and subsequent dilution of the talent pool drove more and more teams toward Lemaire’s system.

Alain Vigneault beat Jacques Lemaire at his own game Saturday night. The Canucks kept the Wild to perimeter most of the evening and when there was a defensive breakdown, Luongo was equal to the task, showing once again that other-worldly element to his game that been missing the last two dozen games.

The defense shone tonight and provided most of the offensive zip. While there may not be a Norris candidate among the top six D-men there is a collective spark in this group that, when healthy, aligns as the best corps in the league. Between Bieksa, Ohlund, Mitchell and young Elder there carries a certain jour ne sais quoi about them that resembles the great Steven/Niedermayer tandem of 1995.

But then the question remains, who is our Claude Lemieux? Who is that all-elusive X factor which has been this avoiding this city since 1970 and glory days of Cyclone Taylor?

As mentioned a few weeks ago, this team is suffering from a minor identity crises right now. Vancouver, as it stands, lacks the firepower to play the “puck possession” game so favored by high flying teams like Pittsburgh, Washington and Detroit. Vigneault and Lemaire are cut from the same cloth. They have proven that a sub-par offense, augmented by a gifted and gritty blueline and goaltending, can be coached into success. Saturday’s version of the Canucks seemed most suitable the job of getting back into the division winning form from two years ago.

Roberto Luongo played his best outing of the season and showed why, with Brodeur out, he is the best goalie in the league right now. Sami Salo and Daniel Sedin provided all the offense needed on the night. Like Frankenstein, Lemaire was beaten by his own monster.

But is this monster enough for the Canucks to do anything more than cower in the shadows of mediocrity?

In 1997 I remember listening to some DJ on the radio make the  announcement that the Winnipeg Jets were officially packing up their sleepy prairie home and moving — along with a legal name change — to the snowbird capital of the southwest: Phoenix, Arizona.

Gary Bettman’s evil plan to destroy the NHL from the inside was in full swing.

At this point I was no longer following hockey regularly. My boss at work would fill me in on the odd detail as we sanitized teats and placed a vacuum-like device on cows to suck milk from their udders (I worked on a dairy farm). Names like Messier, Brashear and Mogilny punctuated the conversation and each time I wondered at the status of my once beloved Canucks.

At this point in my life I was more consumed with skateboarding, punk rock and making enough money to fuel my Plymouth Turismo, than hockey. Hockey, I believed at the time, was for children and I was the consummate burgeoning adult. Later in my twenties, while suffering from an undergraduate induced bout of depression, the success of the Westcoast Express spawned a rekindled passion for the game and my team — the Vancouver Canucks.

Back in 1997, I was only vaguely aware of concepts such as free-trade and globalization. In the hockey world, as my passion for the game lay dormant, a new economic incentive energized the move of Canadian small market franchises (namely the Jets and the Nordiques) to big market cities south of the border. During the Chretien years, due to the low Canadian dollar and the fact that NHL wages were paid out in American currency, teams in the small markets could no longer stay afloat without generous subsidies from the league. Without a revenue sharing system (the sacred cow of Gary Bettman’s which was finally brought to roost after the 2005 lockout) the team couldn’t remain competitive. With the Winnipeg Arena in disrepair and the cash strapped civic, provincial and federal governments unwilling to pony up the dough for a new barn the Jet landed on the open market.

Very quickly they were to become the Phoenix Coyotes.

Not that I cared much at the time (remember I was more concerned with buying strings for my Strat and losing my virginity) but I recall thinking how ridiculous the Jets move sounded. Hockey in the desert? It was akin to putting a square peg in a round hole. If your familiar with the history of the game you know its safe to say it’s not the most ubiquitous of professional sport. While we live in a diverse world where technology can support a human being in space and airplanes and cars can travel at the speed of sound, it is obtuse to believe that the manufacturing of a culture-of-hockey may occur simply because machines exist that can manufacture ice.

When the Phoenix Coyotes rolled into town Tuesday night, with superstar coach Wayne Gretzky in tow, I was reminded of a time when the Winnipeg Jets were the natural rivals of the Canucks. Back then, Dale Hawerchuk battled nose-to-nose with Stan Smyl for Smythe division sub-supremacy. The Jets and the Canucks were the second tier of the division in the 80’s as the Flames and the Oilers, the two best teams in the league at the time, battled for the cup each year (either Edmonton or Calgary represented the Campbell Conference in the finals consecutively from 1983-1990). The Jets and the Canucks acted as bottom feeders in the division, but as cellar dwellers in Canadian markets there was a certain charm to their rivalry — not to mention a mutual hatred of all things related to Alberta hockey.

The fans of Winnipeg and the fans of Vancouver served as bookends to the Wild Rose hockey that dominated the league in the 80’s. As the 1990’s dawned and the iron curtain dropped a new spark of hope illuminated the two cities. Vancouver saw the emergence of superstar Russian Pavel Bure and Winnipeg saw a new Finnish Flash, Teemu Selanne, smash the rookie-season goal scoring record and incite new enthusiasm in the fan base. The 90’s also saw a fall from grace for the Alberta based teams so for a short time it was the Jets and Canucks who dominated the northeast.

Thursday’s games turned into a goaltenders dual with Ilya Bryzgalov of the Coyotes letting in one goal to Blue’s shutout. The Canucks power play was off on the night but the penalty kill was sound. In many ways it was a textbook game. Sound, technical hockey with no mistakes resulting in two points for the home team. For the Canucks it was almost a perfect game, sterile in preparation, precise in execution. For the Coyotes is was a learning curve. An example of a young team built by a superstar (coach Wayne Gretzky) who is still searching for that all elusive fifth Stanley Cup.

What is remarkable about the modern NHL is that it has lost its rogue sheen. 1967-94 (1994 was the year of the first lockout) may have been the age of the great hockey dynasties, but it was also full of pocket rivalries (Nordiques vs Montreal and obviously Vancouver vs Winnipeg are a few that come to mind) that epitomized the gaming element in hockey.

It was also an age of quirky teams (California Golden Seals and the WHA imports for example) and superstars (Lafleur, Gretzky, Lemeiux to name a few) who created a culture of hockey for a populous aching for something to call their own. The Canadian cultural hegemony. The same can be said of baseball and football in the U.S. and soccer in the U.K. The commercialization of sports, while inevitable, came long after the sport had begun to sink deep roots in the heritage of the land and her people.

Take this excerpt from an early newspaper account of hockey: “If we turn towards the country, we are at once struck by the almost total absence of stone throwing boys, upon whose characteristics and mode of life we remarked in a former article. What has become of them? The nearest pond answers this question; they are playing hockey on the ice and occasionally mimicking the mistakes of such among their betters as are not quite at home on skates.”

There is one thing that people forget about hockey, and sport in general, in the beginning it had nothing to do with money; it had nothing to do with product; it had nothing to do with entertainment (at least for the fans). Hockey is a game by and for players. People who share a common bond for healthy competition who come together for the sole purpose of merriment and escapade. Or in other words, to have fun. It is something that cannot be measure and weighed and commodified.

A bunch of strangers who pay money to show up and watch you play a game you would otherwise play for free is only an added bonus. Long before the money there was the sport; long before the desert there was frozen pond.

Hockey in the south is like trying to breed Orca whales in captivity. Money, research and technology are irrelevant when considering an intangible that cannot be explained by science. It is the intangible of the old Jets that I missed on Thursday night. Yes we won the game, but in so many more ways we have lost.

Mr. November has begun the march to coronation. On another note, Barack Obama won the election.

Roberto Luongo and his notoriously slow starts have given way to Roberto Luongo and his notoriously exceptional mid-season. Tuesday’s shutdown at the Garage was leaps-and-bounds better than their tilt versus Nashville last year when Sami Salo and Kevin Bieksa went down with major injuries. But that exercise in man-games-lost-to-injury was superseded by the surprise upstart of Alex Edler and the superman play of Blue (Bee-Lou as in Bobby Lou).

Tuesday’s game, while not a stand-on-his-head thriller, had enough saves (not to mention goals) to warrant Blue’s third shutout of the season. The victory was sort of like Obama’s campaign: enough defense to stave off an ugly red-state threat, enough offense for a lopsided victory.

This win is not to be confused with hope and change, it is merely the beginning of hope and change.

Sundays game against Detroit really illuminated the holes in Vancouver’s attack. While the Canucks made a game of it — keeping things close in a 3-2 loss — it was the special teams and, more importantly, lack of an elite scorer on the roster that ultimately made them fall short. The Detroit Blitzkrieg (consisting of Nik Lidstrom and company) commands the respect of the league and if the Canucks respected their firepower, they could have stood a chance. Vancouver PK is on a downswing right now and it basically cost them the game.

The fight or flight response is often recalled during warfare. When the Detroit Red Wings dominate, they are not flying — they are destroying with cold decisive blows. If they are underwhelming in their gravitas it is only because their cadence is so well-adjusted. Now I know that nobody in Canada wants to watch well-adjusted hockey. It is also safe to bet that nobody wants to watch losing hockey either. This is where the moral philosophy of Alain Vigneault is trumped by the bravado of the Aquillini oligarchy. Coach Vee, in the past two years at the helm, has coached with what he had for a team, that is, one superstar and a hand full of upstart rookies and washouts. Now with the directive from the owners for a higher stakes, open offensive game, Vigneault is being asked to squeeze blood from a stone.

This must make Vigneault cringe. He is now coaching a Red Wings style attack without the firepower. Something akin to bringing a knife to a gunfight. It will be interesting to see if this bluff can work as a legitimate strategy or whether the Canucks drop the blade and run.