Black Ice Vancouver

“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.

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

“A system of morality which is based on relative emotional values is a mere illusion, a thoroughly vulgar conception which has nothing sound in it and nothing true.” –Socrates

How shall we then fare from here, dear Vancouver, how shall we then fare?

From the minute the puck dropped tonight, every indication pointed toward another classic rout by a Colorado Avalanche squad steeped in surpassed expectation.

For Vancouver, stringing together a winning streak these days is a little like trying to have sex on ecstasy, however easy it is to derobe a woman is equally countered by a bereaved inability to keep the cock up (or in for that matter).

So two bad penalties in the first 10 minutes and once again the Canucks are climbing the Mt. Everest of emasculation (see: Iain MacIntyre).

Keep the sex on ecstasy metaphor in your head for a moment. Last Saturday we beat the Aves 8-2 = derobing, down two goals tonight = impotence.

Still with me?

Now, whether it is a shared emotional value or just an illusion (since I’m the writer and that makes me god I’m not telling) out of the thin gray dome entombing the Fraser Valley arrives a savior in the form of a Viagra shaped 25 year-old German offensive defenseman.

His name folks, Christian Ehrhoff.

Never one, as a staunch Protestant, to defend an Aristotelian reading of the Holy Scriptures it behooves me to believe that the heavens — much like writers themselves — can’t still survive on subtle use of the mixed metaphor.

Jesus saves, Christian scores.

Socrates shoots, Christian scores on the rebound.

Bernier scores, Christian tallies the indelible rebound.

I’m not sure who it was on Team 1040 during the post-game that christened him Bobby Orrhoff (I hope it was Tom Larschaid) but it’s classic Vancouver. “I’m high bitch, let’s fuck!” In the end we got the prize (perhaps at the risk of losing our soul [should one indeed exist]), a 5-2 vindication of whatever the hell needs to be vindicated while high on drugs.

One question remains. Now that the Canucks can get it in, will they be able to, um, finish? If the weather tonight is any indication, then I would say they are in good form.

But this city still might need protection.

Next Up – Chicago

“A change in the weather is sufficient to recreate the world and ourselves.” -Marcel Proust (Remembrance of Things Past)

Vancouver is a city whose serotonin transporter is directly affected by two things: the weather and hockey. Coincidentally (or not) two things that the average citizen is unable to control.

In search of lost time:

Back in 1915, with the help of a sniper by the name of Cyclone Taylor, the Vancouver Millionaires became the last professional hockey team in the city to win the Stanley Cup. A Vancouver club has since challenged for the Cup on five other separate occasions, losing each time (three more as the Millionaires and twice as the Canucks). That means no generation in Vancouver, since the end of the Great War, has tasted the champagne of victory out of Canada’s holy grail.

Sadly, the bitterness of defeat is all this town truly expects these days.

The Vancouver fan can be compared to the jilted love from time-to-time, swooned by an appetite for victory and all her splendor, yet unprepared for the gamble that is at the root of any infatuation. Like we’re some sort of Jane Austin meta-fantasy whereby Darcy perpetually asks Elizabeth to marry her and then perpetually skips town before the wedding.

The art of being a Canucks fan is based around how one braces for crushing blows.

Once bitten, twice shy they say — but in the land of Canuck it often feels as though the fanbase is feeding off her own body, tearing herself apart limb-by-limb like an autocannibal, thirsting on the taste of her own blood.

Oh negative:

Whatever the reason, the culture of losing is so rampant here that it seems as though defeat, while still disappointing, is almost a point of collective pride for the city. Yeah we lose, fuck you, we got mountains and tonnes of green shit, and no snow an shit…fuuuuuuuckkk (said in a drunken bridge-and-tunnel slur). It’s almost like we have twisted our inability to win into a deftly accrued ability to lose.

And the rest of the country scoffs, rolling their eyes at our self-inflicted-delusion.

A few questions for you Vancouver: Are you even interested in winning? What would you do should the occasion actually arise? Could you handle that much joy Vancouver? Have you possibly dug yourself an existential hole of self-loathing so deep (hypothetically anyways) that you are now too petrified (or disinterested or too comfortable) to dig yourself out?

The one thing important to keep in mind during this week of remembrance is that this team might be ready to win: maybe. Although I highly doubt it. Coach Vee could manage to staunch the flow of blood oozing out of this bitch and slap her with identity harder then a trick walking away from a free blowjob — but that is a gargantuan if. (We’re talking Cinderella-bringing-her-pumpkins-home-to-roost type shit.)

Mike Gillis with his methodical approach to steering the ship; Vigneault with his steady precision keeping the boat on course; Forsberg with his annual will-he-or-won’t-he-sign Canuck cocktease — all of them leaving anything possible behind in their wake.

Might:

This team might win a championship one day but not before they find a city worth winning one for. That, however, is something the average citizen does have control over.

Next Up – Colorado

(Note: I’m becoming formally aware of my growing endearment to fellatio themed images. I imagine it will continue. If you don’t like it you can suck my cock.)

Try to name the three NHL teams that don’t end in S*.

In the time it took me to answer that question last night the Vancouver Canucks (yeah that’s right, we’re not one of them) gave up four goals on 13 shots on the way to a 6-1 roast by the home team — the St. Louis Blues.

Vengeance is mine saith Murray:

The loss was inevitable — Vancouver a tired road-team — St. Louis a team tired of losing.

Lest we forget last spring, where broom jokes were flogged like dead horses.

Alexandre Burrows must have been celebrating his O/T winner from Game Four still because he was on the ice for three of the Blues first four goals. Along with Henrik and still obviously flu-swined Steve Bernier.

All scored within seven minutes of the opening faceoff.

And Andrew Raycroft, clearly pissed that Luongo is back from injury, did his best to insure a Vancouver (hel)l by stepping aside from an Andy McDonald knuckle-puck .18 seconds into the first period.

Fuck the horse, let’s blame it on the pigs.

And make no mistake, we’ll flog this swine flu until the next intifada wrestles back control of the newspaper headlines.

Or balloon boy gets molested by Michael Jackson on the steps of Congress.

Or the economy jerks off into the mouth of the New York Yankees.

Or to heaven we fly on the wings of a pig (thanks Steinbeck!)

And the game last night. Or the team these past couple of road-games. You inquire dear reader?

Not their greatest work. Not their greatest work by far. But rest assured, like every other conflict or controversy we hear about in this 24 hour news cycle, it it will soon be eclipsed by something else, something far more urgent, something far more  breaking, something far more new[s].

Next Up – Detroit

*Wild, Avalanche and Lightning

“There is scarcely a goal he has scored, or a chance he has missed, which, if asked, he cannot recreate in detail, setting each teammate and opponent into place with the precision of a chess master replaying a game. The joy of it all is that we have found him, that the game is so much a part of our lives that when a Wayne Gretzky is born we will find him. The sorrow is that there may also be Wayne Gretzkys of the the piano or paint brush who, because we expose our young to hockey so much than to the arts, we will never know about.” -Peter Gzowski on the genius of Gretzky

Well I think that Gags and McIntyre summed up the weekend with their respective columns pretty well.

Basically the Canucks are going to have dust off their blue-collar game in order to weather injuries to Daniel Sedin, Pavol Demitra, Sami Salo and Mathew Schnieder. The loss of these four giants seem utterly drastic right now.

And their road game needs to improve from it’s current 0-4 graveyard in order to survive the 14 road-trip-from-hell-thanks-to-the-fucking-olympiad-bullshit-bullshit.

Seeing Calgary pummel the Canucks looked like it might be a regular occurance this season, but after destroying Calgary in the first 2 games last year (remember the Ripper had a pair of goals) this start should realign the balance of power for the rest of the season.

It’s a crap-shoot with these clowns. And speaking of shooting for shit the Canucks have the worst shooting-percentage in the league right now despite being 2nd in shots-on-goal, they are 18th in shooting-percentage.

It makes you think that under Coach Vee’s affable grin he must know that all the soul searching in world won’t produce an accuracte shot.

Oh well, just keep shooting the puck on net, hope for the lucky bounces.

(Here is were I don’t talk about the win against Minnesota on Saturday. The Canucks should have won 7-1 but barely eked out a one goal advantage after shooting everything they owned at a spectacular Backstromm. Kesler played his best game of the season but it still left me wanting more, um, goals)

And then that Russian vs. the Computer of a game against Edmonton.

Going 0-for on the power-play against a team with zero stars takes the Canucks from proverbial bad to proverbial worst.

And if you can’t depress the matter even more, it looks like Luongo is starting to pick up his games. But if the Canucks can’t find scoring (notice the talk of Vancouver’s cause celeb the past few years — secondary scoring — has gone silent) then we may harken back to three seasons ago whereby Louie stands on his head for the team, the team manufactures 2-1 wins down the stretch, clinches the division and subsequently qualifies for one more 2nd round exit (for the ages).

This is the depth of our history folks.

If you were depressed for any reason beside the Canucks before this weekend commenced, leave it to the boys in blue to drain all traces of serotonin from the system.

Next Up – Chicago

I think it was Scotty Bowman who said good teams don’t lose three games in a row.

There is little point for in-depth analysis at this juncture in the NHL season. The Canucks have stunk it up pretty bad the past two games, but that’s all it is — two measly games. The sum total of 2.4% of the season has now past us and the Canucks dwell where they dwell best. Need I remind everyone (I am not to the exclusion of this reminder) that there are 80 games left to go. 80 plus more hours of shinny to tear at the fabric of our collective civic mental health.

We are about to see what sort of mettle this team is made of. Unless their mettle is already apparent.

This team is almost identical to last year. Apart from new regulars joining at the forward, defense and backup goalie position the team has changed little from four months ago. This begs the questions, is this the same team that lost 11 games-in-a-row last year only to roar back in March to win 9-in-a-row and clinch the division title? Because that team had Vancouver Canucks written all over it, bold, italic and underlined. That team was the embodiment of what this club has stood for for the past 40 years:

Marginal play with flashes of brilliance followed by soul crushing defeat.

If the answer is yes, this is the same team, then there is little adjustment to be made. My suggestion to Vancouver sports fans this winter is to find a new hobby, much like your humble correspondent, in order to deflect the looming evisceration of defeat.

If the answer is no, this is not the same team, then folks, that article has not been written yet. Like trying to predict what my life would be like if my parents hadn’t gotten a divorce and I was born and raised in the sub-Saharan African village of Djenne, Mali. I could describe what that feeling could be like, but the futility of the venture would soon exhaust all repose and we would all be left standing proverbially with our balls hanging out.

I would assume immediately that if this is a different team then the past 38 teams the Canucks have iced, then Tony Gallagher is out of a job. And Willie Mitchell’s parade route is quickly implemented into the City’s engineering plans. And the bridge-and-tunnel carpet(douche)beggary on Granville Street is amplified 100 times.

Apart from that, we sit and wait. Hope that the thin tissues in your mouth are able to twart an attack from your teeth as you chew on your gums in rapt attention. Drink plenty of beer. Possibly abstain from coitus (or preferred form of stimulation) for 24 hour before each game. Carry gauze with you. Bring a friend.

Rhetorical question: how easy is it to lose three games in a row?

Next Up — Columbus

Articles of Intrigue — Hockey really is a rich man’s sport.

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This was a great year!

The Canucks have had a whirlwind off-season no doubt. The axing of Dave Nonis. A new GM. Linden retiring. The Death of Luc Bourdon. A final exodus of the Westcoast Express. The retarded Sundin saga. At this point you could have the Season 2 synopsis of MVP: The Secret Lives of Hockey Wives under wraps. But lists aside, after things settled down with the hiring of new helmsman, Mike Giles, management got to work. Sort of.

First order of business: Thwart the signing of Fabian Brunnstrom. With the unexpected firing of Dave Nonis, the Aquillinis indirectly stopped the (almost) immediate signing of the late-blooming Swedish prospect. This is neither here nor there. The notion of a prospect is exactly in the nature of the phrase: prospect. There is expectation and hope. Nothing is proven, the fate of a prospect is left in the vast possibility of nature and chance. Think what you may, wherever this club was heading, a swift u-turn commenced the minute Nonis got the pink slip. What was interesting is that before he was about to be signed he was the next Pavel Bure. After he signed with Dallas he suddenly turned into a talentless has-been, vastly overrated.  See Alexander Daigle.

Second order of business. Hold a news conference (actually two). It was neither reassuring nor enlightening watching Aquillini explain his actions (firing Nonis) under the glare of Vancouver’s ravenous sports media. While the scribes listened intently, Francesco began sweating under the weight of his own decision. After Gillis signed on as GM another news conference was initiated. This one had the zero experience, ex-player agent pondering the fate of the Sedins (not sure if they’re part of our future plans), pontificating on preferred systems of play (less defense, more offense) and holding court on management strategies (Bold moves!)

Third order of business: Not firing Vigneutte. Basically reneging on aforementioned plans to play that coveted puck-possession style. The funny thing is I don’t remember anyone complaining about Coach V a season ago. Remember that? When Vancouver was busy winning the division and setting club records in wins and points. But man, fuck that guy now, he destroyed all entertainment value still existing in the game. Right, how many consecutive sellouts are we at now? 4419?

Fourth order of business: Drafting the new Trevor Linden. At 10th overall, Cody Hodgson was the safe bet. With such a defense deep draft, Hodgson easily could have gone higher. What the precocious center lacks in size and speed he makes up with in leadership and hockey smarts. Hodgson captained the U-18 world champs to gold with Pat Quinn steering the ship. Lets hope that ol’ cigar chompin’ Irishman’s magic rubbed off on the kid and he makes good on his promise. I envision his name being retired, sans Stanley Cup, right next to Stan Smyl and Trevor Linden. Dude, remember that 2015 run? God we were so close. If only Hodgson hadn’t hit the crossbar in game six overtime to send the series (against Atlanta?) into a seventh game. Argh. We were so close.

Fifth order of business. Not drafting Kyle Beech. The best players from B.C. never play in B.C. Joe Sakic. Scott Niedermayer. Paul Kariya, Steve Yzerman (although raised in Ontario I think it still counts). The list goes on. What is admirable about this choice is that it’s a safe bet. Beech had some “character” issues (love that word in the context of professional athletics) off the ice that made the Canucks brass waver and ultimately pass on the hulking forward. What I detest about this choice is that it’s a safe bet. It would be nice to see some home grown talent (Beech was raised in Kelowna) skate at 800 Griffiths Way. It would also be nice to gain a reputation for good draft choices. A safe move.

Sixth order of business: The Sundin offer. At this point its a big cock tease. If the big Swede had signed on the first day of free agency, a statue of Gillis would already be up, right between Gassy Jack and the Steam clock. Too bad no one wants to sign in Vancouver. Is Vancouver the new Edmonton? Is the travel that bad? Is the culture of losing in this city so advanced that people will pass on record breaking contract offers? Christ, $10 million dollars and two-and-a-half months later the indecision and the gutless top six roster continue. It doesn’t matter at this point, just sign somebody already.

Seventh order of business: Signing Kyle Wellwood. Kyle Wellwood does two things that I cannot: 1) Play hockey for heaps of money and 2) live without a television. His underdeveloped tenure in the Big Smoke behind him, the prospects of this former prospect have merely codified the perspective most fans have of this team: mediocrity abound! Other former prospects have fared well in the City of Glass (hint: rhymes with Maslund and Gertuzzi). What remains is that other perspective most fans have of this team: delusional hope.

Eighth order of business: Signing Pavol Demitra. The worst kept secret in town. I don’t know why but I love this move. It has to do with the chain around his neck. I always thought athletes who wore chains were really fuckin cool. Hopefully it adds some incentive for Demitra’s buddy Marion Gaborik to sign when he inevitably leaves Minnesota at the end of the year (because of, ahem, Lamaire’s soul-sucking defensive system). The speedy forward hopes to brings finesse to Vancouver’s soon-to-be vaunted puck-possession system. Hopefully the next thing he brings is that other Slovak, suffocating in the clutches of the Twin Cities.
Ninth order of business: The release of Markus Naslund. It was not really a move per se. After a paltry offer, the Canucks captain and all-time leading scorer went out with neither a bang nor a whimper. The shy forward, opted out of the piranha pit of Vancouver media scrums for the calm waters of Broadway. Go Giants! Go Jets! Go Knicks! Go Yankees! Go Mets! Go Red Bulls! Go Islanders! Go Rangers? In New York there are over 1000 roster spots available for professional athletes of any given sport in the greater metropolitan area. I expect Markus to go gently into that good night of his fine career. Do not expect his number to be retired.

Tenth order of business: Yearly signing of possible Sedin linemate. After the offer sheet nonsense with St. Louis, Gillis determined to put the BS back in Bold Moves. What did he come up with? You guessed it, another fledgling prospect. Steve Bernier, on his third team in five months, can use his size on the top line with the Sedin’s or he cannot. I expect him to score 30 goals this year simply because of the Sedin factor. The mirrored Swedes need a third wheel for their cycle game to flourish. Soft hands attached to big body heed results. After eight seasons in Vancouver the Sedins must have a few inside jokes regarding their bazillion line parings.

Eleventh order of business: Retool a wicked fourth line and an awesome third line. Darcy Hordichuk trains with Chuck Liddel. That shot block guy from St. Louis is a da bomb, but no one can remember his name. This is such a great move. The Canucks need more balls, and these two pick ups add depth in the chutzpah department. I think the shot block guy is gonna help with the PK which needs a jump start after a lousy campaign last season. Darcy is the new Gino. Cowan has my vote for the waiver wire. 7-1-4 according to Hockeyfights.com, its been a while since Vancouver has had a bonafide heavy weight.

Everything else seems in working order. The tragic lose of Luc Bourdon still leaves me with great sorrow. Alex Burrows and Ryan Kesler return for another season of shorthanded third line magic (I have to wonder about my own sanity when the third line is the one I’m waiting to hit the ice). We continue to see what sort of bizarre injury leaves Sami Salo sidelined, will he get eaten by an Orca while swimming in Coal Harbour? Will he be attacked by a wild band of West End skunks hell bent on purging this city of their best shot from the point? Wunderkind defensman Alex Edler will continue to move up the depth chart with his cooler-than-thou Swedish touch to the defensive end. The Sedins will continue to cycle until the oppositions neck is so twisted up that Gabriella Luongo could score with a tap in from the left side.

Who knows? Shoulder shrug. That’s the general sentiment in this city. Who the fuck knows? This is the best position, entertainment wise, that we can be in. Sure I have to sell my body to afford a ticket. It will be worth it. Why? Because the business of hockey is selling. And I’m already buying. I’m gorging on whatever they feed me. All eleven orders and counting.