30 November 2011

That's More Like It: A six game streak I can get behind

Hey, remember when Jimmy Howard wasn't stopping pucks? Remember how I was all over his shit?

Remember how fucking wrong I was?

Super Jimmah, in is 138th consecutive start, was absolutely solid against Stevie's Bolts. Especially late in the game. Despite an onslaught of odd man rushes and drives to the slot by some of the games most dynamic scorers, Jimmah made save after save, clearly establishing - once and for all - that his birth was the result of a beautiful, orgasmic 19 hour love session between a whole chior of angels and a herd of unicorns on PCP.

Yes. There were other stars of the game. Pavel Datsyuk is a swell fella. We're aware. But because James has displayed such sheer good-at-hockeyness (suck on that Shakespeare) over the past uninterrupted decade of consecutive starts - he deserves a bit of a pat of the back. He convinced us long ago, but he's showing the rest of the world: motherfucker means business.


Wings play again on Friday. Now, our starting netminder has yet to be announced, but there are a couple of facts to help us figure it out:

I think it's a safe bet Super Jimmah's on his way to his billionth consecutive start. Honestly, at this point, I'm almost happy that our beloved netminder has been left off the All Start Ballot. If the write-in campaign isn't successful, it just might be his only night off until he's hoisting #12.

Wings are back on top of the central. That feels much better. Foot to the floor, pedal to the metal, keep on fuckin rolling.

18 November 2011

Cleaning Up The Mess: Where to go now?

Well, we certainly are a bi-polar bunch. In this season we've gone from unapologetically brash with confidence, to certain we wouldn't see another Wings win in our lifetime, to optimistic that we're back on track, to ready to pay someone to snap each of our arms and legs right in half just to have a distraction.

Though... can you blame us? This has been a bi-polar fuck team. 5 wins in a row to start the season. 6 consecutive bed-shittings, thereafter. 4 W's full of offense. 2 L's full of dick smashing fuckitude.

This is supposed to be Red Wings hockey, right? The model of consistency? Over two decades of the same system leading to the same results? Just checking.

So, since we're all pretty convinced that this team is at least playing like a bucket of fuck for the time being, where do we go from here? As a side note: if you aren't sold on the whole "bucket of fuck" thing... well damnit, there's no room for tempered analysis or cautioned reasoning here. So knock it off. I'll wait.

There? Get that stupid smiley shit out of your system? Good.

The team is in need of some kind of shakeup. Three games to Thanksgiving - gut check time for Kenny Holland - and we're fourth (FUCKING FOURTH!!) in the Central. Anybody OK with that? DAMNIT I SAID NO MORE OPTIMISM!

That's better.

So where do we go? A couple of tidbits were tossed around the twitters this evening. Trades and coaching. I mean, that's pretty much it, right? That's all we've got. In my mind, it's time to go with the latter. As much as I'd like to see some kind of super-addition to the roster, I just don't know how possible that is. There just isn't a team on the planet - no matter how many Dale Tallons they might hire - that would be willing to trade anyone who can even pretend to play in the NHL for Jiri Hudler. Fil's a choice... but what the hell kind of GM is just itching to overspend on a guy that everyone's been predicting will "break out" for the last half-decade. The mule is a beast in the playoffs... but if he can't be bothered to give a shit during the regular 82, how can we expect a guy who gets paid to build rosters to care about adding #93?

Nope. If we want a true shake-up, we've got to be willing to truly shake things up. Is there anyone willing to part ways with Datsyuk? If so, can I please have some of your alcohol. I believe you've had quite enough. And maybe I could see getting behind swapping Z for a superstar talent, but there's two problems with that: 1) There's little to no chance we're going to get anything near fair value, considering his relative badassery (most of the time); and 2) That would guarantee a really sad Datsyuk. Who the fuck wants to make Datsyuk sad? That's just mean.

So, for now, trades it is not. That's not to say that I don't expect a trade or addition this season. It's just that right now isn't the time. Around the deadline, the sellers will likely be willing to dish an upcoming UFA for some picks. Now, everyone's hoping they won't be sellers come deadline time.

Including us.

Which is kind of fucked. OK... totally fucked. But the fact remains - if we don't do something, there's a damn good chance we'll be in the sellers column after the All Star break. Ungood.

So if trades are out... I guess that leaves coaching. Granted, I've been saying this for a while - but that shit's got to change. Maybe Babs can wrangle this team back into his pen, get them in line, and have everyone back to Red Wings style hockey. Though... he's been trying that since 2009 and all it's gotten is back to back 2d round outs to the god damn San Jose Fightin' Fuck Nuggets. As I've said before (over, and over, and over) Babs is a great coach - but I don't think he's great for us. Not any more. He has lost this team and he's not getting the most out of them. He hasn't been able to effectively manage a backup goaltender... ever. He continues to insist on dumb shit ideas like falling back and playing a trap with a one goal lead in the friggin second during playoff games against offensive juggernauts. He can't get the team committed to defense, his special teams have sucked a bucket of dong, and his hair is stupid.

OK... that last one isn't true. It's just as glorious as ever.

Still. Go away. Time for some change. Not that that comes without problems. First and foremost, who takes his place? Could Blashill be a diamond in the rough type guy like Bylsma was when he broke into the league? If Curt Fraser was given a team not named the Thrashers, would he manage to win a game or two? Is it OK to drive into Chicago with weapons and take Scotty Bowman hostage, forcing him to coach again at gunpoint?

Fuck. Problems are annoying.

My suggestions? Promote from within. It'd be the cats pajamas if after so many years of being fucked with by coaches, Ozzie got the chance to have the reins. Granted... he'd probably just try and leverage the offer into a job as the bullpen coach for the Tigs.

Chris Chelios might be bothered to take a break from his regimen of getting wasted and driving to the early bird buffet at Old Country Buffet to get behind the bench and call everyone assholes for a while.

Even better? A rotating coaching staff consisting of the Grind Line. At the very least, when Todd McLellan's band of cheapass murderers and dick-noses refuses to stop blasting Howard in the face with a bunch of snow, we'd have a team of coaches climbing over the glass to fuck some shit up.

If The Professor can be convinced to stop agenting (yes, it's a verb now... also Michael Petrella has extraordinary genitals), he's certainly got the mind for the game. This would also be pleasing in a very "fuck off San Jose" way.

But the best idea? Mickey Friggin Redmond. Sure... we'd be coachless for every west coast trip, but the guys have to basically be on autopilot when playing at midnight anyway. Also, no more of those pesky composite sticks. We'd be the only team in the league to have an entire roster play with wooden sticks since composite sticks were invented. Also, we wouldn't have to worry about the penalty kill. Refs would simply stop calling penalties because of the amount of bitching they'd have to endure. And best of all, he'd be able to reach Larry Murphy between the benches to slap him in the mouth every time he won't shut the fuck up about hot dogs.

Make it happen, Kenny. Three games to the quarter mark. Time to figure this shit out.

08 November 2011

Time for Catch-up: Limping Past the Starting Line

Well. This is timely.

OK, OK. So I've essentially missed the entire first fifteen percent of the season. So what? So has Jiri Hudler.

Alright, that was uncalled for. I should know better than to justify my failures by comparing them to the acts of Jiri Hudler. If that were acceptable, the whole world would be full of perverted sexual deviants, the economy would come to a screetching hault because nobody would be doing their damn jobs, and poor Danny Cleary would be perpetually concussed.

Truth is, it's been a busy month. I've moved back to the motherland, bought a viscous attack dog in case anyone from Chicago or Denver happens to walk by my house, and started actively contributing to society as a semi-functioning member of the work force. No excuse, though. I know that there are millions upon millions out there eagerly anticipating the results of the:

WINGED WHEEL'S "WHO'S GOT THE BIGGEST CHARITY BONER" CONTEST

Over the course of the few months that we ran this little contest, we managed to raise close to two grand for the kids. The selfless generosity of Wings fans, and the bitter, spiteful, donations of Hawks fans have really made a difference. I am proud of you bastards, and would like to move in with you all. 

On to the results.

First up: the jersey. As I'm sure you're aware, the jersey signed by Hank Z himself was offered up in a raffle. Those who donated earned entries for each dollar put toward the kitty. Without further ado, the winner is:

  Matt Chichester 
Chicago via Grand Rapids

Good on ya, Matt. Now, here's the challenge. That jersey has managed to raise money for both H2H and Learning Through Giving. See if you can find away to continue to spread its magical glory in a selfless way. Or at least don't let any Hawks fans touch it. I'm just thankful that we don't have to watch it being pissed on by a hobo, or whatever the hell Hockee Night wanted to do...

Finally: The honor and glory.

Well Wings fans, I hate to admit it, but the Hawks beat you out. I don't know the exact numbers, because counting is for nerds. Suffice it to say, it wasn't particularly close. Of course, that has a lot to do with one Hawks fan, who I think we all know deep down loves the Red Wings. This eternal, firey, burning love is evidenced by his gigantic charity boner. This man is the president of awesome, the chancellor of greatness, and the csar of badassery. He made the biggest donation, by far, and as such, is entitled to redesign the banner here, and order up a Winged Wheel song (that will likely take me 15 years to make due to my new workload). Ladies and gentlemen, the man, the myth, the legend:

Jim Deveraux

Jimmy D... claim your prize. Email me at wingedwheelblog@gmail.com and let me know what punishment I must now take. As if watching the wings shit all over the early part of the season isn't punishment enough.

More to come soon, I hope. It's nice that the Wings decided to finally win a game, but I have to say I'm not quite out of the "fuck this" tunnel yet. One win is good... 50 is better. It's going to be a long road ahead to make that happen, and I'm not entirely sure the man behind the bench is necessarily the one to do it. We'll see, I hope I'm wrong. Hell, I almost always am.

Till next time.