Black Ice Vancouver

That is the only question Vancouver. It’s out of our hands.

“Anxiety is the state in which a being is aware of its possible nonbeing.” –Paul Tillich

Before the First World War there was a particular code that European generals followed in battle. It was an extension of the gentleman’s code practiced by European men all over the continent since ancient times. A code of courage and mutual respect (very different from mutual love or admiration). The dropping of the Atomic Bomb and the rise of the cold war essentially saw the death of this particular code from military practices.

It was the mutually assured destruction of the United States and the USSR that relegated conflicts between the two superpowers into satellite theatres such as Vietnam and Afghanistan. But for both the US and Russians these lacked the social grace of a previous generation of warfare. It lacked gentlemanly conduct. It lacked a code. After all, nobody wants to win a fight with an unfair advantage.

One could say then that the rise of professional sports in post-war America (and Europe of course) was a reaction to this global ceasefire. After all, even the world’s only superpower needs a pissing contest now and then.

It was the cold war that propelled professional sports such as hockey into the gladiator realm. It was only here that combatants could compete with an equal advantage. It is on this stage that the Vancouver Canucks and the Chicago BlackHawks are set to do battle in Game #2 of the Western Conference Quarter Finals.

Game #1 was the best game I’ve seen the Vancouver Canucks play in an awful long time. They looked great. They hit hard. Scored timely goals. Killed penalties and shutdown one of the leagues top offensive pairings in Jonathan Toews and Patrick Kane. Aside from Luongo, the best player on the ice for Vancouver was Maxim Lapierre and Yannik Hansen. That’s says a lot about a team boasting the talents of the reigning Hart Trophy and Art Ross trophy.  It speaks a lot about a bunch of things but mostly it says that while the depth of our anxiety as fans may run deep, the depth of talent on our squad this year may run deeper.

Maybe.

What is most impressive about the team and the series thus far (and I know it is early) is the parity between the Canucks and the Hawks. Make no mistake Canucks fans, we could still lose this series. We could lose the game tonight. Anything goes in the Tabula Rasa of the NHL playoffs. I get the feeling, however, that a lose won’t be judged so much on negation, but rather description. How exactly will a win look like for the BlackHawks? How will the lose look for the no-luck Canucks? Nobody can seriously settle for anything less then a Cup Final appearance here in Terminal City.

Win or lose at this point, appearance is everything.

–Joseph F. Delamar

“I feel The Fear coming on, and the only cure for that is to chew up a fat black wad of blood-opium about the size of a young meatball and then call a cab for a fast run down to that strip of X-film houses on 14th Street…feel back the brain, let the opium take hold, and get locked into serious pornography.” –Hunter S. Thompson

Probably not gonna watch the game tonight. Probably not. In-spite of myself. In-spite of my team. Just plain in-spite. And there is a reason for this sentiment. A reason for this attitude of annihilation I feel for this most beloved of National Hockey League clubs. The reason is this. The reason is fear.

Vanouver fans have been a tight-lipped group this past few months. There has been little cause for celebration. There has not been any ticker tap tickering it’s way down the alleys of Granville Street or Burrard. There has been no yellow ribbons wrapped around old oak trees. And all the snow falling on cedar happens above the snow line.

Here, we are a city of business. Pleasure is a principle, mandated by city-council, which states: no resident or citizen shall enjoy, this day April 13, 2011, until the Vancouver Canucks have won the Stanley Cup. This makes participation in any celebratory action deemed, heretofore, to elicit, incite or elucidate enjoyable feelings, illegal and punishable by death. Fuck you smiles! Fuck you happy! Fuck you cheers of ecstatic joy! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!

We have a job to do folks. Until then, it is a strict diet of Fear. Fear and pornography the city over.

–Joseph F. Delamar

Editors note: Unfortunately the Olympics burned down all the good porno shops and peeler bars in the city. So once again I say, “Thanks be to god for the Internet.” Go henceforth and reap your rewards!

“Since the house is one fire, let us warm ourselves.” –Italian Proverb

In the past I have gone to sleep in a number of different capacities. I’ll make a cup of Sleepytime Tea. I’ll write in my journal of the days escapades. Perhaps I’ll pull one off before reading a little Tolstoy. In the past, when I used to go to sleep after Canucks lose, it was with the agony of a parent who’s child was just killed in a house fire.

And oh how that burning feeling has returned.

It’s unnecessary to get into “who didn’t show up” or what ails a first place team, leading in every major statistical category, with nothing left to play for. The best team in the regular season dropped two straight to the worst team in the league, the befuddling Edmonton Oilers. That is a fact. If this were a playoff situation (which is in clearly not) the Canucks would find themselves down 2-0 in the series. But none of that matters. Just like all the players on the team have been insisting all season, none of the regular season accolades and hardware are pertinant to a team that has it’s sights set on one goal.

That which we shall not speak of.

The Canucks are clearly unhappy with the outcome of the past few tilts. But it doesn’t actually matter. REALLY, it doesn’t matter. (Say that to yourself ten times fast under your breath dear reader.) What matters is that thing. So until that fat lady comes a–singin’ all bets are off.

And about those children we lost in the fire. I’ll reserve that nuclear holocaust in my gut until further notice.

Tell yourself. (Over and over again under your breath dear correspondant).

–Joseph F. Delamar

Editor’s note: Does anyone know this girl? Is she single? Does she like short walks on long beaches in just hockey socks and a wet translucent “away” jersey?

“It is not possible to eat me without insisting I sing praises of my devourer?” –Fyodor Dostoevsky

Kinda figured the Canucks might take the night off on this one.

Kinda tempting to do the same. While some might claim much ado about nothing, it is not so much the final tally that is concerning, but the way in which the tally was earned. Too many odd-man rushes. Too many bad penalties. And goal-tending was sloppy and inconsistent. For a team that has garnered a reputation for consistency all year it all may be easily forgiveable.

Maybe.

However, this club has a record of shitting the bed amidst the most comfortable slumber. They shouldn’t take this defeat lightly. Perhaps Coach Vee should make his entire team run bag-skate drills today until Aaron Rome pukes. Just to send a message.

Wake-up fellas. The city is counting on you. The country is waiting for a return of her majestic chalice. Like our grandparents before us, this generation wants her V-Day. Ticker tape and yellow ribbons. And by-golly, who wouldn’t love to impregnate some bewitching damsel in a public setting? Like the steps of the Vancouver Art Gallery.

If the Canucks can manage to play (and win) 16 games in the playoffs all of this is possible.

If they keep playing like a rag-tag group of mouth-breathers this correspondant may be without progeny for at least one more year.

–Joseph F. Delamar

“An ideal form of government is democracy tempered by assassination” –Voltaire

Abraham Lincoln — dead. James A. Garfield — dead. William McKinley — dead. John F. Kennedy — dead.

Are you sensing a pattern develop here?

As I sit here and watch the Canucks attempt to clinch their first President’s Trophy in team history, my thoughts immediately turn to dead presidents. How tenuous of a link does one need?

Seven teams who have won the regular season have gone on to win the Cup in the last 25 years. No one is saying it’s a death wish, it just doesn’t help. However, there remains one interesting caveat regarding the Canucks prospects this year — we are ACTUALLY the best team in the whole, wide NHL. And THAT puts us in the best position to win a Championship.

Charles I — beheaded. Henry VI — Murdered in the Tower of London. James I — assassinated.

Sensing another pattern developing? (forgive me, they are playing the Kings, I couldn’t help myself.)

The fact is, there is neither rhyme nor reason to any of this. It’s a crap shoot. 25% of the last 20 President’s Trophy winners have gone on to win the cup. 10% lost in the final. 25% lost in the third round. The list goes on.

Every year we’ve made the playoffs the common sentiment has been: is this our year? The Canucks lead in every major statistical category in the league and yet the only thing that matters is winning it all.

This may or may not be our year.

One has to imagine that in lieu of a championship parade the City of Vancouver may want to prepare for another procession: a state funeral

But what are we gonna bury? Our greatest hope or our greatest perpetual annual fear?

–Joseph F. Delamar

Editors Note: The enclosed picture is that of Wendish skating funeral procession. God bless the internet.