Thanks to Icethics.info for this scoop. I love retro-shit and I love the Canucks, what a happy marriage that makes us. The ‘Fucks wear this five times throughout the year to mark the 40th anniversary of NHL hockey in Vancouver.
Is it just me or does Henrik just bleed: most-under-appreciated-league-MVP-ever?
Is God so powerful that he can make a league MVP so unloveable that even he can’t love him?
“It is sadder to find the past again and find it inadequate to the present than it is to have it elude you and remain forever a harmonious conception of memory.” — F. Scott Fitzgerald
I went and saw Inception yesterday and it has been knawing at my craw all day what it might take to break into the sub-concious of the Vancouver fanbase and plant a seed. THIS IS OUR YEAR VANCOUVER. The writing is on the wall. We got a Hart Trophy winner, 20-goal scorers coming our unholy openings and we got depth, DEPTH, down the middle (should Cody Hodgson take flight the plot bifurcates).
Raymond got his term and management got their money, so there is one more piece in an ever expanding arsenal. What else can an anorexic fan ask for? What more does one need?
Vancouver for so long has been hampered by a civic-wide parasite of negative self-talk. THEY’RE A BUNCH OF BUMS. LUONGO SUCKS. BURE IS GAY. Call it, the curse of Cyclone Taylor or the curse of the Denman Arena. Call it whatever. The fact is, every time “this is the year,” the team in question 1981, 1994, 2003, 2010 stumbles at some point in the post-season and the collective fan base loses confidence. Then, like a line of parasitic dominoes, the entire team loses their collective shit.
So getting back to Inception. What we need this year is a mantra: THIS IS OUR YEAR. We cannot waver from this accord. Ideas are too powerful, too dangerous if used incorrectly in this age.
The curious case of Sami Salo has turned what was once a head-scratching, head-shaking, WTF moment, into a casual understanding that the Fragile Finn has nothing less then a glass jaw. At some point in the season commentators will miss him because of a dip in numbers from the defence. This will pass.
There is no feeling so bad that it will not pass eventually.
Salo will be missed but he must be sent to the Albatross graveyard in the sky. His presence, much like Nathan LaFayette’s goal-post in ‘94, is far too much for the the fragile psyche of this city to handle.
In the interim let it be of comfort that MG has assemble THE TEAM and this is THE YEAR. Quite frankly because this is THE WINDOW.
If the Canucks don’t accomplish in the next two years what they are capable of doing than they can have another curse to draw on. One of a strange Finnish man who came all the way to Canada to gain his soul through hockey, but somehow lost his body in the process.
Luongo makes me nervous. Every time LA takes a shot I cringe. Will he shit the bed? There is no Crosby around to save the day this time. Vancouver looks good. The fire power on their squad is unquestionable. Luongo’s confidence: questionable at best.
He has a Gold medal. Henrik has an Art Ross. Samuelsson has a Cup. The Sedins have Gold medals. Kesler was the best non-Gold winning player at the Olympics this year. This team has balls. They have finesse. They just need a will, a heart.
I think that edge comes in the guise of Alex Burrows.
He will be the difference maker. Mark my words. At the beginning of the year I called Henrik to score more then 90 points. He did. Now I’m calling out Burrows to keep the pulse.
Otherwise Vancouver has no chance.
Dave Tippet walked into a cesspool this fall when he was handed the reigns of a team in chaos on and off the ice. There was no assurance that the team would even be in Phoenix at the start of the season, never mind have a chance to make the playoffs for the first time in eight campaigns.
Then The Great One stepped down as coach of Coyotes (perhaps the most astute assist of his storied career) and Tippet took over the fledgling team.
The desert dogs have stormed through the regular season collecting 100 point so far this year (with 5 in hand) and now sit on the brink of overtaking the Sharks for the Pacific Division title.
Not bad for an NHL team owned by the other 29 NHL teams.
Despite the conflict of interest the Coyotes walked into GM place with a 47-23-6 record and six point ahead of the Canucks in the Western Conference.
The Canucks made last nights game look easy. Henrik collected three more points and Luongo made 32 saves for a decisive 4-1 victory. Burrows scored again to increase his season total to 35 goals
The team looked good. Kesler was given a game misconduct for a questionable boarding call Derek Morris. These calls are tough and you have to give the referee some grace, especially when it comes to head shots.
I don’t know. All is well.
Next Up — Los Angeles
I got hit in the head with a puck yesterday.
My face split open, the bone above my eye was exposed, blood pooled around my head like an ever expanding circle of crimson.
It was the best feeling ever.
I feel like a warrior-poet every time I strap on the pads and hit the ice. Like some kind of futuristic winter gladiator.
I told the guy beside me on the bus the other day, “we need a war, our young men are bored, they have nothing to do.”
“Well, they’re killing each other anyways,” we replied.
“Exactly.”
At the end of the day Tampa Bay has two top-10 point producers in the league yet they sit in 11th in the East.
My question is: what is Vancouver gonna do with our Art Ross winner and Gold Medal winner in this rust-age of parity?
Next Up — San Jose
I’m fuckin tired of the Canucks. Or at least I’m tired of watching them play hockey on television.
From now on I’m either watching them live or I’m playing hockey myself. No more of this armchair GM bullshit.
Luongo couldn’t stop a beach ball filled with pink butterflies last night, but Kesler played his guts out and they still lost to the lowly Oil. I don’t get this team anymore.
Lou is the “best” goalie in the league but he loses to the worst team in the league. In games where it is his job to score at least 3 points, Henrik only gets 1. I’m just sayin’. There are some problems here and if they are not fixed pronto, another division title is not gonna mean shit when we get another shellacking in the second round of the playoffs.
It has nothing to do with the talent on this team. I think it has to do with the TEAM for this team. As gay as it sounds, if they don’t work and play together as a team, they are going to lose like individuals and suffer the agony alone.
It was still pretty entertaining to watch the Canucks lose like only Canucks lose. I guess that’s how we have fun here in Vancouverville – by watching the subtly of defeat in our favorite losers.
Next Up — Anaheim
“Basically if you can watch 50 guys skating around a rink and you can pick who can play, you can be a GM in this league” – Glen Sather
Earlier in the season I predicted that if Vancouver had any shot in the post-season they would need at least one 90+ point performer. I also predicted that that performer would be Henrik. Lo-and-behold, I looked at the scoring leaders this morning and there sits Hank, two points back of Ovechkin with 95 tallies.
That’s impressive. (Not to mention, Henrik is having a stellar year too.)
It takes me back to the draft of 1999 (in GM Place) when Brian Burke pulled off the “Sedin Miracle” and took the ginger pair 2nd and 3rd respectively. Looking back it was a skilled move by an up-and-coming GM who has been the most prominent front-office tactician in the NHL this past decade.
Vancouver let him go, but Gillis managed to convince the twins to stick around.
When I heard that Brian Burke’s son was been killed a few months back I felt terrible for the guy. Paired with the defeat of his Team USA last month at the hands of Team Canada (in GM Place no less) it has not been a good couple months for the Boston born blowhard. But that doesn’t take away from the debt Vancouver fans still owe the man.
So Thanks Brian Burke, we owe you.
If Henrik Sedin is hoisting a Conn Smyth Trophy along with a Stanley Cup this spring it will be, in part, owing to the genius of Brian.
Next Up — Edmonton
After Vancouver’s decisive 4-2 win over Atlanta last night I was checking the leader boards after the game and was shocked to see Hank placed third overall in points.
Earlier in the season I predicted that if Vancouver is going to do anything in the playoffs this year they will need–at least–a 90 point contributor on the team. I also argued that Vancouver needs an elite forward if they are to be taken seriously in the post-season.
Things are looking good.
With Daniel out with foot injury it is assumed that Hank will falter, but just the opposite happened–he exploded–taking 25 points in the 20 games Daniel was out. Times Henrik’s increase in totals, with his eerie consistency and you have a very good formula for elite scoring. A fool proof formula.
The game the Sedins play is like no other.
When the twins, combined with Alex Burrows, are firing on all cylinders, they play one of the most beautiful (and one of the most complex) games in the NHL right now. All Daniel’s injury proved is that they are just as good playing together as they are apart–the only thing is, when they play together the game is prettier. Maybe they don’t have the panache of Crosby and Malkin do, or the stamina that Thornton/Marleau/Heatley have, but they do posses, with Burrows, one of the most dangerously sublte scoring games in the NHL.
It is our game, invented in Ornskoldsvik, Sweden, and transplanted 3000 km to GM Place where it has quietly become the most consistent point producer in the NHL since the lockout.
There is no question that Henrik is slightly better then Daniel, slightly. Come playoff time, however, that won’t really matter.
Next up – Minnesota
The Vancouver Canucks played their best and worst hockey of the season on this past road swing through the Eastern Conference. With there best hockey they seemed to lose the game and with their bad hockey they seemed to win.
New Jersey
The much ballyhooed rivalry between Brodeur and Luongo never really paid off in this game. The two prides of St. Leonard, Montreal seemed to be playing opposite games. Luongo was sharp but still seemed to let in a softie. Brodeur was limp, never really recuperating from and embarrassing goal off Daniel Sedin.
Brodeur has excelled in a backwater NHL market with little fanfare, but his numbers and hardware are impressive. Luongo on the other hand honed his craft in the swamps of Florida but has put is money where his mouth is by committing to win a championship in Vancouver.
Luongo has taken more of a risk if you ask me. The goalie with biggest balls ought to be Steve Yzerman’s only criteria for choosing goalies for 2010.
Philadelphia Flyers
Vancouver has not has much success with the Flyers the past few years, but they came to play against a team that did not. Mike Richards and Jeff Carter were not the threat they were suppose to be. Phillies best player, Arron Asham, was stoned by our best player, Roberto Luono.
Vancouver is lucky, they caught a good team on the decline. The Flyers will clean up their act. After the Vancouver game they fired coach John Stevens and replaced him with the proven Peter Laviolette–known to squeeze a little blood from stone in the past.
At the beginning I had chosen a Canucks/Flyers final. Will Phillie pull a Pittsburgh this year?
Carolina Hurricanes
It makes sense in retrospect that Vancouver lost this game, but you never want to see them lose in Vagina-jersey town. Not now not ever. They still need to pick up the pace on their road-game that is why I will say that a 2-2 road-trip at this point is actually an improvement.
Nashville Predators
Vancouver could not get anything going from the opening faceoff. They always seemed a step behind the play and every tiny mistake they made turned into a goal for Nashville. Like with Carolina, it’s hard to see a good team beat a bad team, but in both of these cases you can’t fault a bad team from playing well. And in both cases that is exactly what happened.
It was a weird trip, one I’m sure the Canucks are happy is over. Now back to business at home.
Next Up – Atlanta
“I have a character profoundly antagonistic to ordinary domestic life, unfortunately, the disease is also ones material.” -Graham Greene
Sometimes when I sit and watch hockey I become aware of a strange sensation. I’m sitting there, the score is tied 0-0, an ambivalence to the match ever growing. I begin to daydream–thinking about urinating at the next intermission, or folding my laundry, or jerking off to pregnant porn–anything besides what is at stake in the standings, anything besides seeing my heroes scrapping it out before my eyes in beautiful high-definition. I realize I’m not really present. I’m only there because at some predetermined time I decided to do this thing and now I’m doing it. I’m here. I’m here but i’m not here, my passion eroding. I’m alone. I don’t care.
Suddenly Vancouver scores, then they score again. I’m lifted out of my complacency and I enter the game. I’m here, present and engaged. Suddenly the flow of the game begins to materialize. Kesler is skating. Raymond is shooting the puck. Luongo is making key saves at key times. We score again. The game advances, elevates then dissipates, end to end.
Then it is over. A victory. Refreshed and satisfied. I walk out the door, attempt to cross the street to buy a pack of cigarettes and I’m hit and killed instantly by a gravel truck speeding down Main St.
Sport is the great arbiter of emotions for the modern, democratically elected man. When I was a child, sport existed to pass the grueling hours of boredom that seemed to accompany my humble, semi-suburban roots. Later in life, I discovered that artistic and intellectual pursuits could similarly pass the time and also add a little meaning to my existence. When the meanings I discovered in art and letters began to erode, replaced by glimpses of crushing mediocrity, I resorted once again to sport: and hockey: and the Canucks.
Some days I come across in these agnostic entries as a bitter fan. Slumping toward an ending that seems as elusive as death, my journey becomes parallel to that of the Vancouver Canucks simply because they have become seared into my brain from the minute Pavel Bure took off on his first breakaway at Pacific Coliseum.
Their existence has become a parallel to my own pursuits just like a soccer fan in England or a football fan in the US. Man-versus-man; tete et tete; momo e mono. It is a sense of accomplishment and superiority, yes, which forces us to cheer, but there is a deeper relevance then just superiority: solidarity. In a world where everybody is their own sovereign pleasure craft, cruising around at sub-sonic speeds, crashing and avoiding each other and micro-blogging about the miscreant that lives in the apartment next door. In this urban decay we crave solidarity with our neighbor, as much as we loath them.
Why do you think that whenever a natural disaster happens the first emphasis in the news is always on all the courageous and selfless acts that have occurred amongst the calamitous nature of the event?
In a world where everybody hates each other it has always struck me as amusing that we insist on living in such close proximity. In this proximity, we need a martyr: the hockey team will do.
The City of Vancouver has two great arbiters: the weather and the hockey team. They are both controlled–at least on game day–by a supernatural force hell bent on playing Zeus-like with the emotions of the citizens. In the summer, generally it is gorgeous, we don’t need distractions, but come fall, the tides turn, the sky darkens, we are left with litres of rain to decide the outcome of our existence.
Millions of gallons of ink and pixels has been spilled regarding the meaning of the game of hockey to Canadians. More is sure to come. And for the complacent Vancouverite laying on the couch looking for meaning in that first crisp pass out of the defensive zone, win or lose, it’s an experience best shared with ones neighbor.
Because fuck it, we’re all gonna die.
Next Up – New Jersey