The Winged Wheel

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

2011-11-30T23:43:00.001-05:00

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:

Ty "It's kind of hilarious I get paid to play hockey" Conklin is our backup.
Mike "Wait... you're allowed to have two goalies?" Babcock is our coach.

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.

Cleaning Up The Mess: Where to go now?

2011-11-18T23:06:00.001-05:00

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.

Time for Catch-up: Limping Past the Starting Line

2011-11-08T11:02:00.000-05:00

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.

Down To The Wire: Show the love for the children

2011-10-03T15:01:00.001-04:00

Finally, it's October.

The Tigers are playing postseason baseball. The Lions are undefeated. Hell, even my Eastern Michigan Eagles have a winning record. Todd Bertuzzi is pissed because he's never had to winterize his cabin on Hell's Lake of Fire before.

Nonetheless, Red Wings hockey is right around the corner. The preseason is done. No longer must we endure the pain and agony of the absolute cocktease that is pretend hockey. Soon the puck will drop and we'll get to the business of destroying the hopes and dreams of 29 other teams. The business of capturing #12. The business of Red Wings Hockey.

Also marked by the start of the regular season: the end of the Winged Wheel Who's Got The Biggest Charity Boner Contest. Up for grabs is a jersey signed by Hank Z, 3 months of your design for the banner of this site, and if you want it, a Winged Wheel original song, topic decided by you. There's still time remaining, and it's down to the wire. Donate to a damn good cause, and show up the Hawks fans who are doing a pretty good job themselves. At the very least, put the cash down to save this hallowed ground from being sullied by the likes of The Bandwagon.

Need a reminder on how to demonstrate your throbbing charity boner? Allow me:

Go to the Learning Through Giving Cause Page, join the cause through Facebook, and donate to your heart's content. As the administrator, Mike will record your donation, and secure your entry.
If you aren't all hip with the Facebooks, or you just don't want to use it for some reason, you can make a direct donation through the Learning Through Giving Cause Page, without signing in. If you do that, however, you'll need to send your information and the amount you donated to me at wingedwheelblog@gmail.com so that we can record your entry.
You can also send a check made out to Genesis Therapy Center (put Schools Program in the Memo line) at the following address:

Genesis Therapy Center

6006 W. 159th St, Bldg. C

Oak Forest, IL 60452

(Again, if you choose to donate this way, send me an email to confirm your entry)

All payments are completely secure, and all donations are Tax Deductible. If you'd like a receipt, just email me and I'll make sure that happens for you.

All entries before puck drop for the Wings season opener on October 7th against Paul MacLean's moustache will be entered into the contest.

Email me or inquire on the twitters (@captnorris5) if you have any questions. Also, if you've got something to donate to raffle off as well to sweeten the pot and help entice even more good deeds, shoot me an email and we can put it up.

Also, while you're at it, go ahead and "Like" this shindig on the book of faces by clicking here.

Get to it.

...is it October yet?

Fucking right it is.

Bad Apples: And other fruit related misery

2011-09-23T01:51:00.003-04:00

Well, hockey's back. Kind of.

It's the pre-season. Honestly, I've never been a big fan of the preseason. Sure, it's the methadone that keeps us from scraping our eyeballs out of our faces just as we hit the peak of hockey withdrawal. But the games are meaningless, lacking the emotional punch that fills 82 nights a year. The rosters are a fragment of their regular season selves, so you can't take a team's performance on any given night as a sign of things to come. The games are rarely broadcast properly, sometimes leading to a sickening case of hockey blue balls. Pre-season is kind of like sitting through a shitty warm up band waiting for The Victorious Secrets to blow your mind. It may satiate you for a minute or two, but quickly you're thinking "lets just get this fucking show on the road."

Well, as it turns out, perhaps it would have been better to just skip it this year. In a disgusting show of what is most likely vile racism, an individual in the audience of the Wings v. Flyers game in London, Ontario tossed a banana peel on the ice as Wayne Simmonds was approaching Jordan Pearce for the shootout. Now, there's a possibility that this wasn't a racist statement. Of course, that would require that the John Labatt Centre concession stands break from the norm of selling nachos, beer, and a variety of encased meats to offer fruits to their hockey watching patrons. Assuming the venue hasn't decided to buck the trend, it means the now-infamous thrower brought his fruit from home, chose a banana over a more easily concealable fruit, and just happened to toss it on the ice during the time that the only black skater was on the ice, essentially by himself.

So, yes, it's very likely this act was a flat out display of the kind of ignorance usually reserved for Tea Party rallys and YouTube comments. There's no indication yet as to who the tosser was. Arena authorities failed to catch or identify the responsible party. There is no word on whether the bigot was a Flyers fan, a Red Wing faithful, or a lunatic from London II: The Quickening (if it's good enough for Highlander, it's good enough for city names). No matter. Whatever this person's allegiance, one thing is for certain: he or she is not representative. Rather, he's just a total dick.

Now, as appalled as I am, I must temper this criticism a bit. You see, tonight, the infamous tosser made a statement. I personally strongly believe in the right to free expression, and while I strongly disagree with the sentiment, I will fully defend the right to make such a statement, no matter how vile, disgusting, or offensive it may be.

But only so I can say shit like this:

The Winged Wheel's List of Shit to Say to the Banana Tossing Jagoff

A banana? You fucking brought a banana? What, you were sitting at home, angrily masturbating to a black and white photograph of George Wallace, thinking "how can I express my blind rage!?" You took a look at the NHL schedule and figured you'd make a statement. Who can blame you? What better place than a pre-season hockey game, played in neutral territory smack dab in the middle of National Tree Week, broadcast to literally tens of rabid fans? And what better way to express your rage than half eaten fruit? Now, that's how to change the hearts and minds of all the politically correct assholes unwilling to engage in a race war. That'll get them up out of their seats and into the streets. A banana. During the most meaningless part of the most meaningless game of the least popular major sport.
I'm sure it must have taken a great deal of planning to figure out how to get the banana peel in to the stadium. I have to assume you keister stashed it. Then, of course, you threw only a peel on to the ice. Obviously a peel alone would be rather difficult to really get up there. So, logically, you must have used the full banana. Now, a smart guy like you must realize carrying around an unpeeled banana after the deed leaves you exposed to being caught. I guess what I'm trying to say here is that I hope you thoroughly enjoyed yumming down your ass-banana.
Speaking of things being uncomfortably positioned up your ass, go fuck yourself with the business end of a framing hammer.
I hope the satellite currently plummeting from space breaks into just enough pieces to crash into and violently tear apart everyone you've ever loved.
Considering your intellectual capacity is hovering somewhere around that of a feral dog, I truly hope someone leaves an open bucket of anti-freeze near your residence.
It would prove the existence of a kind and loving God if you developed a grenade sized hemorrhoid that was equally explosive.
Now, I don't mean to imply that I sincerely wish you find yourself facing a very early and painful demise, surrounded by exactly zero people, the sum total of your loved ones, realizing your life has been empty and meaningless, truly coming to the conclusion of what a horrible person you are, devoid of any value but replete with disgusting, hateful bile. No. I mean to say it outright. I hope you die alone.

All that and more. I don't care what color jersey the guy/girl had on, or where s/he calls home. He's a fuckmouth. If he happened to be there supporting the Wings, he failed. Not only that, but he's no true Wings fan.

No. True Wings fans are those that chip in for a damn good cause. Now, I know Norton Sports is collecting money as a reward to whoever turns in the cocktwat responsible, but let me suggest a better focus for your effort:

That's right, we're still collecting donations for The Winged Wheel's Who's Got The Biggest Charity Boner Contest. Up for grabs is a jersey signed by Hank Zetterberg, and pride and honor for outdonating the Blackhawks. Now, I'll be honest, right now the Hawks are ahead. This means this honorable site's banner is likely going to be molested by The Bandwagon, and you'll have to hear some song dedicated to their bandwagony glory. Ungood.

So, pony up. Do it quick. By the time the puck drops against The Moustache, the contest will be up. Just as a refresher:

How Can I Demonstrate My Throbbing Charity Boner?

Go to the Learning Through Giving Cause Page, join the cause through Facebook, and donate to your heart's content. As the administrator, Mike will record your donation, and secure your entry.
If you aren't all hip with the Facebooks, or you just don't want to use it for some reason, you can make a direct donation through the Learning Through Giving Cause Page, without signing in. If you do that, however, you'll need to send your information and the amount you donated to me at wingedwheelblog@gmail.com so that we can record your entry.
You can also send a check made out to Genesis Therapy Center (put Schools Program in the Memo line) at the following address:

Genesis Therapy Center

6006 W. 159th St, Bldg. C

Oak Forest, IL 60452

(Again, if you choose to donate this way, send me an email to confirm your entry)

All payments are completely secure, and all donations are Tax Deductible. If you'd like a receipt, just email me and I'll make sure that happens for you.

All entries before puck drop for the Wings season opener on October 7th against Paul MacLean's moustache will be entered into the contest.

Also, while you're at it, go ahead and "Like" this shindig on the book of faces by clicking here.

Hustle up. Because damnit, if you don't... the racists win.

...is it fucking October yet?

Doin' Good: For the kids, for the jersey, and for the hate

2011-07-22T13:01:00.000-04:00

Replace "write a musical" with "donate to charity" and it's pretty damn fitting

You know, donating for a good cause can have a lot of pretty awesome side effects. First, it can just make you feel all warm and tingly inside. It can make it that much easier to face yourself in the mirror each morning. It can give you confidence in yourself, and it can even prevent male pattern baldness. True story.

As if that were not enough, we sweetened the pot a bit last week for the Learning Through Giving Cause by throwing in the very good potential to win a Wings jersey signed by Henrik Zetterberg, and the opportunity to exert some creative control over this little shindig we call a hockey blog. Now, not only do you have the opportunity to earn some serious upgrades to the inner monologue that gets you out of bed in the morning during the offseason, but you've got the potential for some badass swag as well.

Oh, but that's not all folks.

I've always thought the one big drawback to charity is that you didn't really get to humiliate anyone with it. As fans of a competitive sport, we're certainly drawn to competition. And as terrible sports, we certainly enjoy mean-spirited trash talk and juvenile gamesmanship. Like pointed out in the above clip, I've always kind of wanted to respond to the idea of charitable acts with, "Yeah, but who versus? Who are we doing it versus!?"

Well, Hockeytown, I've got an answer.

Recently, the enemy has jumped into this little charitable foray.

"Sounds pretty enticing, eh? Think about it. Your neighborhood bum in a Zetterburg jersey? Maybe laying the jersey out over a puddle for a young lady to step on so she doesn't ruin her shoes? Getting your say of what goes on the banner at a well-read Wings blog? A SONG? C'mon guys, let's get on this. If you'd like the full scoop,please visit the post at The Winged Wheel and please, be generous and open up your wallets and purses for this worthy cause."

Kelly Reardon via Blackhawks Down

And of course:

"I know, you're thinking...I'm a Blackhawks' fan, why would I want any part of a jersey that represents that Jake Gyllenhaal-lookin' motherfucker?

That's because you're thinking short-game. Imagine the "Crackheads Wearing The Zetterberg Jersey" Tumblr page you could whip up. Or this Halloween you can go to a party as a Red Wings fan, yelling "400 wins! He's a Hall of Famer!", then throw things when people mention shootouts. Hilarity could ensue.

Plus, whoever raises the most dough gets to choose a new header for The Winged Wheel for 3 months. Who among us wouldn't love shirtless Patrick Kane on the header? Or even better, see if we can get pantsless Brent Sopel.

Plus they'll write a song to commemorate the winner. Hell, I can do that - just keep playing E-G-A-C, while singing "Detroit Sucks". Bam, done."

Forklift - via Hockeenight

Now, I could take this moment to point out that these folks are outstanding human beings for getting behind such a worthy cause. I could note that their generosity of spirit and kindness of character shines through their team allegiance in spades. I could mention how outstanding it is that such a good cause could bring rivals together, like lions lying with lambs (shotgun lion! I get to be the lion!).

OR I could take the childish route. I could just point out that they're only interested in jumping on the bandwagon of this outstanding cause because old habits die hard. Or, I could suggest that the Blackhawks well deserved inferiority complex has created within them a natural impulse to want to be Wings fans, so they take whatever opportunity they can to inch closer to the dream.

Which do you think I'm going to go with?

Obviously the one where I'm an asshole, duh.

So what's it going to be, Hockeytown. Are you going to let a bunch of fans who don racist caricatures on their sweaters and actively root for Patrick "screw the working man" Kane out-class you in The Winged Wheel's Who's Got the Biggest Charity Boner Contest?

Or, are you going to rise to the occasion, and continue the tradition of absolutely humiliating the team down 94 by out-donating Chicagoans for a Chicago-based charity?

If I were a betting man, I'd go with the latter.

So, for all you Wings fans, tell your friends, relatives, and random strangers on the street. Donate what you can, and help save me from whatever soul-crushing humiliation that would accompany having to write a song dedicated to the glory of some team that has earned as many Stanley Cups in its 85 year history as Kris Draper has in his 17 year NHL career. Do it for the self-satisfaction. Do it for the Jersey. Do it for the hate.

And for you Hawks fans (all 12 of you), bring it on. Emulate that team you so love to adore and try your damnedest, just to fall into the shadow of Detroit. Donate away. Just know, it's going to take Tallon-esque expenditures to out-charity the Greatest Fanbase in Human Existence. Oh, and if you need a bit of motivation to get those gears grinding, I've put together a short list of some of the super mean things I've said about you in the past.

And oh, there's more. Hopefully that gets you riled up enough to open that pocketbook and furiously throw money at some kids who really need it like Ken Holland in the Ericsson household.

Bring it on, Bandwagon. And who knows, maybe some brave, adventurous blogger will have the stones to throw his or her own potential humiliation into the deal to sweeten the pot. The gauntlet's been thrown my friends.

This should be a good way to pass the time until October.

As a refresher:

How Can I Demonstrate My Throbbing Charity Boner?

Go to the Learning Through Giving Cause Page, join the cause through Facebook, and donate to your heart's content. As the administrator, Mike will record your donation, and secure your entry.
If you aren't all hip with the Facebooks, or you just don't want to use it for some reason, you can make a direct donation through the Learning Through Giving Cause Page, without signing in. If you do that, however, you'll need to send your information and the amount you donated to me at wingedwheelblog@gmail.com so that we can record your entry.
You can also send a check made out to Genesis Therapy Center (put Schools Program in the Memo line) at the following address:

Genesis Therapy Center

6006 W. 159th St, Bldg. C

Oak Forest, IL 60452

(Again, if you choose to donate this way, send me an email to confirm your entry)

All payments are completely secure, and all donations are Tax Deductible. If you'd like a receipt, just email me and I'll make sure that happens for you.

All entries before puck drop for the Wings season opener on October 7th against Paul MacLean's moustache will be entered into the contest.

Also, while you're at it, go ahead and "Like" this shindig on the book of faces by clicking here.

Calling it Quits: All hail the Great and Powerful Wizard of Oz!

2011-07-19T13:35:00.001-04:00

If you've watched any Red Wing hockey over the last decade, you can relate. There have been few events as utterly awesome as being at a live playoff game, watching the opposing team on an odd-man rush (very likely Brett Lebda's fault), holding your breath as they wind up and fire a shot at the net...

And then being part of 20,000 rabid hockey fans to collectively, instantaneously, without any prompting to erupt:

OZ-ZIE! OZ-ZIE! OZ-ZIE!

Over the PA: "Do not arouse the wrath of the Great and Powerful Wizard of Oz!"

Chills. Every time.

Today, Chris Osgood officially announced his retirement. Interestingly enough, at the exact same moment it became instantly unacceptable for anyone calling themselves a Wings fan to continue motherfucking the guy like it was going out of style. There is absolutely no question about it: today Hockeytown lost one of the best goaltenders to ever don the winged wheel to retirement.

Of course, when a guy who has taken so much shit from his own fanbase decides to retire, a debate will be sparked about whether the Hall of Fame is the proper destination for the 10th winningest goaltender of all time, one of the best playoff netminders in history, a dude with 3 cups who is EASILY the most mentally tough goaltender to ever play the position. Today isn't the day to jump into that debate. Suffice it to say - fucking right he deserves it.

There have been some damn impressive moments over Ozzie's career. Take a minute with me for a nice stroll down memory lane.

The Fight

Oh yes. 01 April 1998. In the middle of the absolute blood lust of a rivalry between the Wings and the Avs, everyone on the ice grabbed a sweater of opposite color and started throwing punches. No surprise. This was a common occurrence between these teams, as it was the best rivalry in sports. However, it wasn't that often that the goalies got into it. The previous season, during The Brawl, Vernon cleaned Roy's clock in the second coolest thing to happen that night. Almost exactly a year later?

It was Ozzie's turn.

Roy was clearly embarrassed that his huge gaping vagina was plastered all over national television the year before, and was hoping to show the world his new testicular implants. When he saw the inevitable line brawl, he started making his move to the blue line, removing his mask and challenging The Wizard on the other end of the ice. Osgood, a Red Wing through and through, answered the bell.

The two met at center ice and exchanged blows. Now, Roy didn't receive the public Vaginoplasty that he did the year before, but as far as I'm concerned, Ozzie won that fight. Might have been close to a draw, but from where I'm sitting, most of Roy's flailing swings didn't land, and Ozzie stayed in it, eventually taking that little overrated piece of shit we chased out of Montreal down.

The Goal

06 March 1996 - The Hartford Whalers had pulled their netminder, and Ozzie thought - eh, what the fuck. Why not? He fired a puck down the ice and it found it's way straight to the cage. Chris Osgood became the second goalie in NHL history to score a goal off his own shot. Not a common occurrence by any stretch of the imagination, but our guy pulled it off.

The Cup

The summer of 1997 was a bit of a roller coaster of emotions for Wings fans. We had just won our first cup since 1955 - elation. The tragic accident that took Vladdy's career - depression. Trading away the Conn Smythe winning goaltender, Mike Vernon, for draft picks - confusion?

It was that summer that the fate of the team had been put purely and squarely in Osgood's hands. He had a hefty workload in front of him, and a task as daunting as any other: Repeat.

Repeat for those who think this is just a one-and-done type performance. Repeat for those rabid fans who haven't quite been satiated by just one cup full of victory after a 42 year drought. Repeat for Vladdy.

That spring, the Wings found themselves in the playoffs again. This wasn't Ozzie's first go-round in post-season action. A few years earlier, he played 15 games in the disappointing 95 playoffs. This time, however, he was tougher - stronger. He posted a 2.12 GAA and a .918 SV%, winning 16 games - allowing Stevie to place Lord Stanley's chalice in Vladdy's lap that June.

The Replacement

During the 2007-08 season, the Wings had themselves a full blown goalie controversy. Well, kinda. Dom Hasek, that coke-head, was playing pretty solidly. Osgood, slightly better. When it came time for April in the D, Babcock chose to go with the big name, and put Hasek in the cage.

Where he promptly shit the bed.

After a couple of terrible performances in games 3 and 4 of the Western Conference Quarterfinals against the Predators, Babcock did the right thing and yanked Hasek in favor of The Wizard. And hot damn did he deliver.

1.55 GAA. .930 SV%., 14 wins.

If it weren't for Zetterberg's absolute lights out performance in the finals against the Pens, there is no doubt in my mind the Wizard would have had a Conn Smythe to his name. The same rings true for the following post-season run. Had the offense just not stayed at home for Game 7, Ozzie was the clear choice for MVP. The man solidified himself as the best playoff goaltender to take the ice in the last couple of decades. Make no mistake - it's not an easy thing to be given the reins only a few games into a Cup run in Detroit. It certainly doesn't make it any easier that you're replacing one of the best goalies of all time, who just happens to be a lunatic. It takes focus and drive to perform even decently under those kinds of circumstances. But Ozzie? He was lights out.

The Passing of the Torch

Now, we've got young Jimmy Howard in net. He's played amazingly solid over the last two seasons. But lets not forget his overall capability when he first took the ice in Detroit.

He was shit.

That's no knock on Super-Jimmah. It's just facts. He had quite the rough start, and who could blame him? Detroit is an intimidating place to play and he was but a rookie. But he figured it out. He got his mental faculties together and started to continue the tradition of mental toughness in goaltenders?

Coincidence?

Fuck no. Everyone, everyone, from Bedard to Babcock, to Super Jimmah himself have credited Chris Osgood with being an amazing mentor. When we rely on Howard down the stretch, we've got The Wizard to at least partially thank for passing on his best quality to the next guy. A few years from now, when Hockeytown turns on Jimmah, and spends all their time bitching about how he's just not good enough, we'll have Ozzie to thank for his ability to block it all out, and just focus on stopping pucks.

Now, Ozzie's riding off into the wild blue yonder, but he isn't going far. He'll be working with Bedard, helping to mentor the young prospects. Considering some of Bedard's recent comments about McCollum - how his struggles seem to be all in his head - that's exciting.

Ozzie - thank you. Thank you for persevering through tough times year after year. Thank you for putting up with the bullshit, from the fans who somehow found ways to bitch about everything, including somehow the desire to push through injury (fucking bizarre), all the way to the coach who treated you like garbage throughout 09/10. Thank you for stopping more shots than any other Red Wings goaltender, ever. Thank you for being The Wizard.

Join me. One last time:

OZ-ZIE! OZ-ZIE! OZ-ZIE!

Doin' Good: Do it for the kids and a jersey signed by Henrik Zetterberg

2011-07-13T17:27:00.009-04:00

Want this Wings Jersey, signed by Hank Zetterberg? Read on.

[Click Here to Skip the Small Talk and Find out How to Donate]

Well folks, I'm in the midst of an epic battle with the Bar Examination (how cruel is it that it's named after the place you'd so much rather be than in a dark room studying?), but had to come out of a bit of this hiatus for a good cause.

It is a long and storied tradition, here at The Winged Wheel, to do everything we can to demoralize the Bandwagon who calls the wrong side of Michigan Ave home. Our anti-Blackhawks vitriol is well documented, as is our overall distain for the City of Chicago. This is especially so considering the fact that I've been residing here, dealing with the brunt of the bandwagon for some time. I've enjoyed the Shellacking at Wrigley of 2009, suffered through the Great Flash in the Pan of 2010, and rejoiced as the Wings regained their rightful places atop the Central Division in 2011. All of this experience has led to much distain and resentment, causing me to truly abhor all things Chicagoan that aren't hot dogs or pizza.

There is also a long and storied tradition here of absolute juvenile behavior. It's clear to anyone who reads anything written that I'm an absolute immature mess of man-child - a terrible sport who takes this game a bit too seriously and very much enjoys the excessive use of colorful language. Putting things aside and acting reasonably is just not my forte. It's how I am, and I'm not going to change. Not now, not ever.

Ok, well maybe just this once.

In a Winged Wheel first, we're officially putting aside our hatred for all things Chicago to embrace an outstanding local cause. A good friend of mine has started a very good cause to help some underprivileged children in Chicago schools. I'll let him explain:

My name is Michael Anton and I am a fourth-year student at Argosy University where I am working towards a Psy.D. in Clinical Psychology. For the last year, I served as a Therapy Intern at The Genesis Therapy Center, a non-profit organization based in the suburbs of Chicago. During my time as a Genesis Intern, I was given the opportunity to serve as a Title IV Representative in some of Chicago's underserved parochial schools. This involved making classrooms presentations and activities in order to raise the students' awareness of the importance of avoiding drug and alcohol use and the imperative nature of reducing instances of bullying while also working to increase problem-solving skills.

During this experience, my fellow Interns and I had our hearts broken as we witnessed children going to school at facilities that could not provide for the students' most basic of needs. It was rare to come across a classroom where every child had a textbook, notebook, and writing utensil. The deficits got so severe, in fact, that staff had to ration out how much toilet paper or bathroom soap each child could use in a day. These deficits have only been hurt by the government's decision to cut Title IV funding.

Because of this experience, I have decided that I am tired of just talking about the need for change. The time has come for me to move beyond wanting to help so that I could make the notion of helping a reality. My goal, therefore, is to raise $10,000 so that these kids can have the school supplies and hygiene products they all deserve and so that Genesis can continue funding such a beneficial, in-class program. Please join this cause and, together, we can make a tremendous difference in the lives of so many children.

Hockeytown, you've got a hell of a track record when it comes to charity. In the last two years, you've raised over $19,000 for the Children's Hospital in two epic events. You've answered the bell when it's been rung, and despite what Mr. Lambert may think, you've proven yourselves the most generous fanbase in sports. You're also all very attractive, and your genitals are significantly above average in both length and girth.

So what am I asking? Simple. Keep it up.

Here and at the bottom of this post is a link to the Learning Through Giving Cause from causes.com. Go there. At the absolute very least, join the cause and post it to your Twitters and Facebooks, Google Plusses and LinkedIns and Yelps, Tumblrs, Diggs, Reddits, and AOL "Fans of Wilford Brimley" Message Boards. You crazy kids and your internets.

But, if you can, do a bit more than that. Toss a donation their way. The money will be put to great use helping kids get their learning on in an environment where they won't have to worry about toilet paper rationing. Don't hold it against them that they're from Chicago. Look, if I can put that aside - you sure as hell can.

Hockeytown, I am absurdly confident that you are more than capable of rising to this challenge. Mike's got a goal of $10,000 by the time the Wings have brought home the 2012 Stanley Cup. It's going to require everyone to pitch it to get there, so please, give whatever you can spare.

However, that does not mean that there's nothing in it for you. As an added bonus, introducing:

The Winged Wheel's "Who's Got the Biggest Charity Boner" Contest

You know, or whatever else you want to call it, in the interest of appropriateness.

For all those who donate, join the cause, or recruit others, you'll be entered into a raffle for a Red Wings Jersey, signed by Henrik Zetterberg shown at the top of this post.

A couple of years ago, at H2H, I was lucky enough to win this bad lad as a raffle prize. It's made its appearance at one exhibition game, but has otherwise sat in a revered corner of my closet. Well, I'm confident it can be put to better use, and what better use than this?

Everyone who joins and passes along the information to others will get an entry into the raffle. PLUS, you'll also get an entry for every dollar you so generously choose to contribute. By following the links below, you can donate any amount.

AS AN ADDED BONUS: For the individual who donates the highest amount, I'll throw in the following:

The Winged Wheel will change it's banner to one of your design for three months. You can have it proclaim your glory, honor your favorite player, or hell - if you're a fan of a rival team that would like revenge for all the mean things I say about you - you can even have it pay tribute to your inferior, crappy excuse for a hockey program. The only limitations are that I won't mock Stevie or Vladdy. Everyone else is fair game.
I'll also do my damndest to write and record a Winged Wheel original song, based on the topic of your choice. Same idea as above - it can be about anything. It should be noted, that I make absolutely no guarantee that the song itself will consist of anything resembling talent or ability - but hell, I'll try my best.

.How Can I Donate?

Go to the Learning Through Giving Cause Page, join the cause through Facebook, and donate to your heart's content. As the administrator, Mike will record your donation, and secure your entry.
If you aren't all hip with the Facebooks, or you just don't want to use it for some reason, you can make a direct donation through the Learning Through Giving Cause Page, without signing in. If you do that, however, you'll need to send your information and the amount you donated to me at wingedwheelblog@gmail.com so that we can record your entry.
You can also send a check made out to Genesis Therapy Center (put Schools Program in the Memo line) at the following address:

Genesis Therapy Center

6006 W. 159th St, Bldg. C

Oak Forest, IL 60452

(Again, if you choose to donate this way, send me an email to confirm your entry)

All payments are completely secure, and all donations are Tax Deductible. If you'd like a receipt, just email me and I'll make sure that happens for you.

All entries before puck drop for the Wings season opener on October 7th against Paul MacLean's moustache will be entered into the contest.

Folks, if Puck Daddy can raise over $6k for a dumb little joke on the back of a sweater, then we can make big things happen here. You've blown me away more than once in the past, lets do it again. Thanks so much for all your support for this cause, and Go Wings!

*For clarity sake, nobody associated with this site is affiliated with Genesis Therapy Center. The representations above are mine and mine alone. All donations given as a result of this little shindig are just those - donative gifts. In the unlikely event that the jersey is destroyed or damaged before the end of the contest, I reserve the right to cancel the raffle. In such an event, the donations will not be refunded. Plus, what kind of jackwad would ask for a charitable gift back anyway? I just had to throw that in there because I spent three years and way too much of my future earnings on a stupid law degree, and I figured I'd get my money's worth. Anyway... back to the nightmare that is studying for the bar.

Holy Insanity, Battman: Apparently it's contagious

2011-07-01T02:33:00.001-04:00

Edit: Just so we're clear - I still revere Ken Holland as the best GM in sports. Frustration over an absurd contract aside, the guy is a superhero. Hyperbole is fun.

The start of free agency period tends to get people - let's say - riled up. The season is over, the Cup has been presented, and the awards have been handed out. With no hockey on the air, we start to get a bit fidgety. Hell, we're in hockey limbo - that nebulous period between the end of the previous season, and the start of a new.

All of this fidgeting gets us a little crazy. We start suggesting crazy things, like "we should trade all of our draft picks for the next six years for a dman,"or, "lets give a forward $70 billion," or, "we should offer Jaromir Jagr a contract."

Luckily, this haste to do insane things separates us from the men at the helm of our beloved teams. Well... for most of us.

See, there are probably about five or six Panthers fans out there (I know, I'm being generous) that are amazed that somehow, some way, their GM has found a way to out-crazy them. Yes, we're talking about none other than the postally inept jagoff himself - Dale "suck my way to success" Tallon.

See, Dale worked for Chicago for some time as the general manager. Then, he got a job as GM in Florida. Unfortunately, Dale forgot he was fired by Chicago, and decided to keep on working for the Windy City.

See, we were all kind of surprised during the draft when it was announced that some how, some way, the Hawks managed to unload Brian Campbell's contract. This, the man who was being paid $7m to cough it up in the neutral zone more than a pack-a-day smoker with pertussis on the 38th parallel. (ba-dum-chik) Yes. Tallon took that contract... again. Not only that, but he then traded for the rights to Tomas "I suggest you use a 9 iron on this shot, Sir Marian, sir" Kopecky. He then promptly engaged in cashkake all over his face.

Hilarious, right?

Well... it was.

See... apparently, lunacy is contagious. There at the draft, GM's were all in one room, huddling together - talking about possible trades. I assume the epidemic may have started with Paul Holmgren, who thought it was a great idea to trade away his best two players for nothing so he could sign Ilya "Parks and Recreation" Bryzgolov, apparently because... he wanted to do better in the playoffs? Still, wherever it may have started, it spread. Our ol' buddy Dale is obviously genetically disposed to the disease, as he seems to contract it every year. But the epidemic didn't stop there.

No. No it did not.

Yesterday evening, it was announced that the Detroit Red Wings have come to terms with one of their targeted unrestricted free agents. After Rafalski announced his retirement, the Wings had a hole to fill on defense. With keeping pucks out of their net a major concern, this UFA's carreer -11 really spoke to them. His 15 points in 74 regular season games during the 10-11 season really showed how valuable he is. Most of all, they were impresssed with his ability to completely forget he is a defenseman, join the rush with a bunch of 3 liners that aren't much of a scoring threat, lose the puck, and bail on his assignment. Having watched this tactic work out wonderful for years with superstar Brett Lebda, who could let this talent get away?

So, what a relief when after weeks, months(!), of negotiating, the Wings were able to hammer out a contract at the eleventh hour, before Brian Burke could offer him sixty-jillion dollars and thrice weekly old-fashioneds.

That's right, the Red Wings have resigned Jonathan "dicknose" Ericsson.
For $9.75 MILLION dollars.
Over THREE Years.
With an annual cap hit of $3.25 MILLION dollars - $250,000 more than Nicklas "actually has talent and ability" Kronwall.

WHAT?!

That's right. On the eve of the first opening day of free agency where we've had some actual cap space, in a year before our three best D-men are headed toward unrestricted free agency, in a cap world where saving money and geting values are essential to contending for a cup, Ken Holland, formerly known as the best GM in sports, signed an absolute, shit-for-brains dipshit of a defensive liability to a near TEN MILLION DOLLAR contract.

I miss Stevie Y.

For the record, I hope I'm wrong. I really really hope I'm wrong. I hope that soon we'll be looking back at this thinking, "see, we really do have the best GM in sports. He saw an opportunity that literally nobody else in the world saw in the potential of Big E. He looked past his shitty performance and hinderance to our success, and knew what the hell he was doing. He probably wasn't on crystal meth at all!"

I hope that the second after I publish this, it's released that Ericsson has been traded to the Kings for Drew Doughty and Anze Kopitar. I hope that some how, some way, this isn't the dumbest move the Red Wings have have made this side of un-retiring Aurie's number 6.

I just don't see how that's going to work.

The above picture was the saddest I've ever been while photoshopping something for this silly space for me to rant and procrastinate. I really really hate to disparage a guy like Ken Holland. But holy hot damn tiddlywinks - what the hell?

Kenny, you're letting me down. First, you refuse a promotion that could have kept The Captain in the motor city. Fine. Whatever. I get that you're a GM, and you like being GM, and you don't want to not be GM. I guess we can go five years without Stevie Y... (you dick). But to turn around and do something I simply cannot wrap my mind around? To not only sign a guy who sucks as long and hard as a Binford Shop-Vac that Tim "The Tool Man" Taylor got his hands on, but to do it for so much damn money? I'm so pissed off I could write a list:

The Winged Wheel's List of Shit That's All Fucked Up Now

First and foremost, Jonathan Ericsson is going to be on our blue line for three more years. In a major role. You don't put three million dollars in the press box. Unless it's attached to Jiri Hudler's dumb ass and your taser is out of juice.
Our amazing amount of cap space just became kind of decent. We had all kinds of millions of dollars to toss all over whoever we wanted. We could have made it rain like Chuck Gaidica on an April day in Bouzouki's on a game changer - someone who could come in and provide the extra spark to bring home #12, as soon as possible. Now? Now we're all kind of hoping Jaromir's little dog and pony show lands in the D. That's scary.
Also, Jonathan Ericsson will be playing defense for the Red Wings.
Way to set the bar. Really. $3.25 million for a guy who puts up 15 points and sucks at defense. Nick Kronwall's about to be a UFA next season. Kenny's gotta work on that extension pretty soon. If I'm Kronwall's agent, I'm thinking his 37 points last year must be worth 2.46 times as much cash and I'm asking for eight million dollars. Also in the category of "guys who don't suck at defense,"Brad Stuart's contract is up. Oh, and Lidstrom might retire. So any of that money that maybe we could have spent... gone. It's all now floating in hypothetical land, waiting to be gobbled up by guys who have a real easy contract to point to when they want to play hardball.
Oh, yeah, and Jonathan Ericsson is going to be on the fucking blueline for the Red Wings!

I mentioned that the above picture was the saddest I've been to mock someone through photoshop. Interestingly enough... care to know the angriest I've been while mocking someone through photoshop? It'd be this little primitive number here:

That, my friends, would be found in an article entitled "Wanted: Dead or alive, get him off this team." Son of a bitch.

Free agency starts tomorrow. I was excited. Now I'm just sad and confused. Like Mrs. Tallon after sex.

...is it October yet?

Playing Boss: The Unrestricteds

2011-06-27T15:49:00.000-04:00

We're days away from 01 July, the mark of the start of Free Agency. It's during this period that big roster changes will come to teams across the league, big-name talents will look to make a pay day, and Glenn Sather and Brian Burke will have cashgasms all over low-talent players' faces and chests. Most of the big signings will happen on Friday, and it really marks the last worthwhile thing to happen in any of our lives until October.

Most years, the Wings are not major players in the free agent market. Our team has so often been directly against the cap that we simply couldn't afford any of the game-changers that come on opening day of the free agent frenzy. We haven't made a 01 July signing since Marian "October - March" Hossa when Hasek's contract came off the cap.

This year looks to be different, however. The cap has risen to $64m, Rafalski's chunk of change is removed due to his retirement, and we find ourselves with some money to spare. With 17 players under contract, we've got over $16m to play with. Our roster has some needs - a replacement for Brian Rafalski, a backup goaltender, and a top-6 forward. We've also got a few guys who are unrestricted free agents, and Kenny will have to make a decision on who's coming back at what cost.

So, since the most important test of my life is only a month away, I've decided to spend my time analyzing the situation we find ourselves in before Free Agent Frenzy begins this Friday at noon. Let's start with our own unrestricted free agents, shall we? Presenting:

The Winged Wheel's List of Shit to Do with the Dudes We Had But Might Not Have Soon Depending on how Negotiations Progress, Mutual Interest, and Other Available Options On The Open Market That May Serve as Potential Replacements

Catchy, eh? Now, some of these decisions have already been made. Contracts have been offered in some cases, or Kenny's indicated that he'll take a wait and see approach with some guys. That being said - I'm largely going to ignore most of that information and tackle this from a "if I were in charge" perspective. I know that's a terrifying proposition, but bear with me. It's not real and this nightmare will be over soon. I promise. Anyway, lets start with a Winged Wheel favorite, shall we?

Chris "400 Wins, Bitch" Osgood

To be completely honest, I'm on the fence here. I know that may be surprising considering the buckets full of praise I've showered on The Wizard on this site, but it's true. Before Joey MacDonald decided that he wasn't interested in a two-way deal, I had it settled. To me, considering his play last year, it made tons of sense to sign Joey Mac to a deal and start him off in the AHL, continuing to mentor McCollum. Then sign Ozzie to a deal, no question. With a capable backup in the AHL as insurance in case Ozzie's surgery didn't quite take, there'd be little risk in bringing back the Wizard.

Now, I'm not so sure. See, the upside with Ozzie could be outstanding. The last couple years, admittedly, haven't been good to Osgood's numbers between the pipes. However, many wings "fans" are quick to forget how lights-out he was in 08 or during the 09 playoffs. There are all kinds of explanations for that kind of decline we saw during the 09 and 10 regular seasons. One could be that after Todd McClellan bailed, we were stuck with Brad McCrimmon (I'm just now realizing how much the Wings love the micks). Since McCrimmon took the bench, our defense has been decidedly un-Wing-like. Shots on goal went way up, and our PK started shitting the bed on a regular basis. Now, we've got vacancies in those coaching spots, and Babs can hopefully fill them with someone who's not terrible at his job.

Another explanation could be that Ozzie was simply falling apart. Just consider his major groin/abdomen/cahooten-valve surgery this year. The Wizard went under the knife just after reaching the summit of #400. That's at least some evidence that Ozzie was hurt, and the pain was keeping him from playing at his full potential. There's where the upside comes in. If the surgery takes, and Ozzie's play returns to 08 form, he is far and away the best option for this team. Not only is he an outstanding mentor for young Jimmy, but he can likely be had for a near-minimum contract. That's some serious value, if all works out right.

But that's kind of the problem. Everything has to work out right. That's a pretty big risk, and as much as I love Ozzie, I'm not sure I want the Wings to undergo that kind of dice rolling. Jimmy needs a backup that can take some time away from him. 63 starts is far too much. And hell, even if Ozzie turns out perfect, Babcock might just decide to be a stubborn dick about it, per usual, and make Howard play all 82 games.

So... I guess my answer is "shrug." Kenny plans on waiting a bit into free agency to decide if he's going to call Ozzie back, and that sounds like the right move to me. If there aren't any real options, we can always fall back on the tried and true, three-ring, future hall of fame inductee. If someone better can be had cheap - well... I'll be sad to see Ozzie go. On the bright side, hopefully it'll mean all the sooner that he finds himself on the FS-D broadcasts so Murph will finally be out of a damn job.

Jonny "As Much Wasted Potential As The Floor of an Adult Theater" Ericsson

Oh, gee. I wonder what Greg's views are on whether Ericsson should remain a Red Wing?

Yeah - fuck that kid.

Actually, in all honesty, I wouldn't be SUPER pissed if Big E stays. The Braintrust obviously sees some real potential in the kid, and we saw some flashes of what he can actually do during the 09 playoffs. It sure would be annoying to let him walk away, have Brian Burke give him a eighty-billion dollar contract, and suddenly have Ericsson turn his game around. Plus, who knows how much of E's suckitude comes from Brad McCrimmon mindfucking him into mediocrity.

But the fact remains - Ericsson sucks. He sucks long, and he sucks hard. He's been absolutely terrible on our blue line. Replacing him with a sack full of sand would be an upgrade. Often, the biggest obstacle to our success is that he's got a healthy ACL. Every time he's on the ice, Wings fans everywhere hope that he tomahawks an opponent across the mouth just because it's better to be shorthanded for five minutes than to have him on the ice for 30 seconds. I could go on, but I wouldn't want to exaggerate.

So fine, if E wants to stay for a pittance, I say keep him. If we roll with 8 d-men, he can spend a bunch of time looking pretty in the press box. No harm, no foul. Unfortunately, it sounds like E has been offered a multi-year contract, at around $2m per. If that multi-year is several years, and he actually turns his shit around, maybe it'll be worth it. As it is, it just looks like the Wings are overpaying for a guy based purely on potential and not on results. Unless, of course, Ericsson does the funniest thing in the history of time and pulls a Lilja by turning down the millions of dollars he neither deserves nor is worth.

Ruslan "Graduate of the Marian Hossa School of Playoff Performance" Salei

Here's another decision that's already been made. Rusty wants to go be with his kids in that bullshit state that ought to fall into the damn ocean already. Good for him, its nice to see a guy put family over his career.

Well... at least in Salei's case. Salei signed his one year contract, filled a roster space, and didn't suck 65% of the time. He did his job. Unfortunately, 35% of the time he did suck. And, unfortunately, a good part of that sucking came in the playoffs. He did his job, no hard feelings, but there's no way I'd want him back when there are UFA's to be had, and rookies waiting in the wings. Farewell.

Mike "Haley Joel" Modano

Boy howdy, people got pissed at ol' Mikey Mo. Lots of Wings fans have decried the Modano experiment as an utter failure, and seem to blame it a bit on Modano himself. I'm not quite part of that camp. Unfortunately, the dude got in a freak accident just as he was finding his stride, and was never given the chance to get back to playing. It would have been nice for him to be healthy - but whatever. Either way - the one year experiment with Detroit was just that. One year. He's still mulling his future, but he won't be back in Detroit, and that's probably for the best. He's still got a wicked shot, but there's no doubting that he's lost a step or six. Plus, he lost a lot of good will when he started talking about retirement at the beginning of the playoffs. Doesn't exactly show a lot of dedication and heart. So, thanks for the year Mike. I'm sure the jersey sales in Westland and Livonia were enough to make it worth it for you.

Kris "Thunder Beard" Draper

Bring him back. Another year, another shot at a fist full of rings. Captain Norris is the Captain... but by most accounts, Draper is the vocal guy in the locker room when shit needs to be said. He's a good mentor for guys like Danger Helm, and when he's on the ice, he makes that fourth line better and faster. He can still take faceoffs, and he plays the PK like a champ. That, and he'll likely play for a pittance. It sounds like he wouldn't complain about the occasional stint in the press box, and he's a Red Wing through and through. Plus, now that the Jets are back in Winnipeg, he can have a bit of a victory lap. One dollar, my ass.

Draper's presence does good things for Abby and Helm, staples of our team. His return would likely mean the departure of Eaves, Miller, or both, but that's OK. Neither one of those guys has some huge amount of untapped potential that would make their loss irreplaceable. He's cheap and he's still a damn good role player. Plus, I can't imagine the Wings cup celebration without that beautiful ginger forest of a beard. I say bring him back for #12.

Patrick "Holy fuck that's a big ass dog" Eaves

Here, I think we should take a wait and see approach. I'd really like Eaves to be back, and it sounds like he wants to stay in Detroit. He's a great defensive forward, he can hustle, and he's got a good offensive mind here and there. However, we've currently got 17 of a max of 23 roster spots filled. Add to that 2-3 D-men, and a backup, and we've got between 2 and 3 available roster spots for forwards. Jan Mursak and Corey Emmerton are both due to make the big club, and are out of waiver exemptions. That means they'd just be free to a good home if they don't make it full time. Assume one of the two to be a staple in the big club next year. That leaves 1-2 spots open. That could even be zero open spots if Kenny decides to carry 8 D-men, as he very well may. If we sign Eaves and keep him, we either have to let Mursak and Emmerton go, or miss out on the opportunity to sign a top 6 forward. True - we could trade ValFil or Hudler, but I'd expect that if there were much league interest, Happy would have been gone before the draft.

I know, the above analysis could also apply to Draper. But, for the reasons described above, I'd rather have old man beard than Mr. Eaves any day. Eaves has more-or-less maxed out his potential, and his ability to mentor young kids like Helm, Abby, or even Mursak or Emmerton, is limited compared to Drapes. Also, loyalty is one of those funny intangibles that helps sell our team to free agents, and Draper's earned it if we can afford it. Plus, it'll be that much more hilarious to all the "ha ha the Wings are old" Lamberts of the world, when we win #12 with Drapes.

So, to me, as good as Eaves has been for us, we'd lose too much by retaining him. I say wait and see. Look on the market, see what's available. If there's a free agent to be had with more offensive upside, sign him. If not, maybe give Patty another go round.

Word is, Eaves has been offered a contract. Hopefully Kenny's got it in his mind to sign him and try and trade him or cut him loose if nothing else shakes out. Sorry Eavesy, we'll miss you and your giant dog.

Drew "Salt 'N' Peppa" Miller

As I see it, Miller is a poor man's Eaves. He's good, don't get me wrong. But he's a fourth line role player that is relatively easily replaced. Unless some crazy trade happens where it frees up our roster space, I just don't see any room for Miller. If there is any space at all, it'd come behind both Draper and Eaves. Again, sounds like he's been offered a contract, but I'm really hoping it's for a sign-and-trade. Otherwise, it could signal that for the first time in a long time, Kenny's OK going into the season with a whole heaping load of cap space. While that could be just fine come deadline time... I'm not so thrilled with the idea of a Wings team not doing everything possible to win. I'd like that top 6 forward. Unfortunately, Miller stands in the way. Hopefully his rejuvenation here is enough to convince another team to toss some dollars his way.

And those are the free agents. I'll likely blow important things off in the near future to discuss some of the UFAs on the market because, well... why not?

...is it October yet?

Defending The Defenseman: Detractors of perfection abound

2011-06-23T15:44:00.000-04:00

One more to Bobby Orr.

Captain Norris himself, the Perfect Human, took home his 7th Norris Trophy last night at the otherwise absurdly stupid NHL awards. Yes, it was a show that featured Jay Mohr pretending to like hockey and publicly attaching his mouth to gary bettman's turd cutter in what could only have been a desperate play for a continuation of his only gainful source of employment. It featured mind-numbing mispronounciations of the names of NHL legends - Marten Saint Lewis, Nicholas Linstrom, and, yes, Stevie Whyszerman. It featured performances from artists like Dirks Bentley - causing fans to ask "What is exactly bettman's fascination with everything south of the Mason-Dixon" - and the ever-strange and talentless Far East Movement, causing fans to ask, "Who?"

Yes, like anything else the NHL has ever done, the 2011 NHL Awards were handled with gross incompetence with little to no consideration for the desires of its audience. Watching, we all felt very comfortable in the consistency of it all. But despite the circus that was the show itself, one outstanding result sprang forth:

Nick Lidstrom was recognized as the most outstanding defenseman in the league.

Whatdya know? The Professional Hockey Writers got it right! Lidstrom pulled down his 7th trophy, bringing him only behind the venerable Bobby Orr for most Norri won.

And almost immediately - assholes across the nation started doing everything they could to diminish the accomplishment.

Lidstrom’s victory smells of name recognition, emphasizing points far too much for a defenseman and a general deficit in defensive stats that don’t require an accounting degree, though.

O'Brien via NBC's Pro Hockey Talk (Surprise! Incompetence at NBC!)

Or, of course:

Can't argue with Daniel Sedin and Corey Perry splitting the Ted Lindsay and Hart awards. Can't have a beef with Tim Thomas taking the Vezina. Can't disagree with Disco Danny Bylsma taking home the Jack Adams, or Marty St. Louis winning the Lady Byng. Can't get mad over Jeff Skinner walking away with the Calder.

But Nicklas Lidstrom won the Norris, as a result of what I can only imagine was most people's teary-eyed nostalgia. He finished the year a minus-2, but as we all have been told many, many times, plus-minus is a bogus stat (trademark and copyright everyone for whom a player's plus-minus doesn't fit their argument about his good- or badness) and should therefore be discounted.

Ryan "Waaaaaaaaah, Wings Fans are Meanies!" Lambert - via Puck Daddy

Absurd. Seriously. Just, absurd. It's one thing to think (and be wrong) that another candidate should have edged out Norris Nick for the award. Hell, the votes were damn close. But to actually suggest that it's just unthinkable that a guy like Lidstrom could win the Norris - well... that's just stupid.

Second in the league in points by a defenseman, with sixty-friggin-two. Tops on the team in ice-time, despite being 40 years old. An outlet pass that is not only lethal, but completely enables the team to play it's style of puck-possession hockey. Shutting down the opponents on odd man rushes left and right, often because he was stuck playing next to a guy like Jonny "oh yeah, I play defense now..." Ericsson. Thats right - all that production and all that excellence, often skating next to the most Lebda-esque defensemen since... well, Brett Lebda.

And that's not even the biggest piece of the puzzle:

OK, if you want justification, how about this: Quality of competition. Behind The Net's stats on how tough the talent is on the other side of the ice reveals that Lidstrom (at 0.128) faced better competition this season than any other defenseman in the League with at least 50 games played. It's not even close: Brent Seabrook was second at a 0.117 rating; Weber and Chara don't rank in the top 15.

Wysh @ Puck Daddy, 25 Apr 11

I mean, I guess I could see how a guy like Lambert could miss that. I'm sure he's too busy making Chris Osgood voodoo dolls to, uh, read the site he contributes to.

For the record, Chara ranks 29th and Weber comes in at 40th on that list. So how about we put away this whole, "Nick Lidstrom only won because he tricked people into thinking he was going to retire," thing. That's not how this works. Lidstrom won because he was the best defenseman in this league. Period.

And hell, while we're at it.

The Norris nod isn't the only thing that has people bitching. This gripe, however, doesn't come from outsiders who don't watch enough of Lidstrom's play to truly understand his dominance. Nay - this comes from those within our own fanbase who seemingly cannot be pleased.

On Monday, 7 Time Norris Winning Nick Lidstrom announced that he'd rejoin the team for another year. Right thinking Wings fans rejoiced. Recognizing that the captain's return likely meant the difference between 20 or 21 consecutive playoff appearances, we breathed a collective sigh of relief and found ourselves oddly aroused. However, for some, happiness is just not an option.

As soon as it was announced that Nick was going to earn the same $6.2m that he had in his last contract, the detractors spoke up. Now, when I say detractors, I'm not using the Webster's Dictionary version of detractors, meaning "those who speak ill of; bellittle." Rather, I'm using a more colloquial definition, that being "dickwad assholes; fuckfaces."

These folks immediately declared that Nick Lidstrom was a selfish asshole, only in it for the money. They cried that he clearly didn't care about the team, and that by demanding so much money he was handicapping our ability to truly contend. There was much wailing and gnashing of teeth.

Unfortunately, while there was an abundance of wailing and gnashing, there wasn't much thinking going on.

I can only assume that many of these folks were really hoping that Lidstrom would pull a Stevie and ask for just over a million so we could really contend. Unfortunately, these people didn't realize the cold hard truth of it - he did.

See, following The Captain's lead doesn't mean taking next to damn nothing to play. It means taking significantly less than your value for the benefit of the team. That's exactly what Nick did. Keeping in mind that at the time Stevie took that huge cut, he was coming off of a serious eye injury, had horrible knee problems, and was essentially a third line center. That's not to disparage the man's contributions to the team - he was still MVP because he's Stevie Yzerman, damnit. But, consider that the huge cut wasn't as huge as it is made out to be by some of the whiners.

On the open market, is there anyone who really thinks Lidstrom couldn't have found an $8m contract? Hell, maybe more, coming from a team who wants to sell some seats, bring fans in. I dunno, a new franchise that might be looking for some veteran leadership, cup-winning experience, blue line dominance, and a bit of a gimmicky flare? Maybe some team that's just moved north? Just saying, if he wanted it, Lids could have had at least $8m. Hell, he likely could have gotten that here had he demanded it. That means, in reality, he's taken at least a near $2m pay cut to stick around. That's a lot of coin.

Oh, but what the hell does he need it for? He's made money! He should just play for the minimum because, damnit, if he cared about the team, that's what he'd do!

Nope. First, consider that even as much as a hundred thousand dollars is a fuckton of cheddar. Next, consider that as much as you play pretend, and figure if you were a sports star for your favorite team, you'd take no money just to help them out - you're wrong. These guys put themselves through a grueling 82 game regular season, and a harsh playoffs to boot. They bust their asses during the offseason, sacrifice the ability to see their families most of the year, and risk serious injury night in and night out. All the while, its their efforts that generate ticket sales and ad revenue. To expect the most valuable player on the entire team to just forego getting paid because he's already got money is, absolutely, objectively, stupid. It's selfish. It's ignorant. Period.

It sure is nice, though, to have a guy like Lidstrom who is willing to take significantly less than his value to play. Chara (you know, the guy that didn't win the Norris this year), is going to pull down $8.5m next year. Duncan Keith, last year's Norris winner: $8m. Brent Seabrook, never even nominated: $7m with a $2m bonus. So if you'd really like to stick to your guns with the whole, "what a selfish dick" line:

Piss off.

Really. Do it. Get out.

But! Just think of what we could have done if he took an even smaller salary. Shouldn't he want to guarantee a win!?

Here's a challenge: you find me a scenario in which Nick Lidstrom's $6.2 million dollars prevents Kenny from doing absolutely anything reasonable, and I will let you tattoo whatever the hell you want on my forehead. Ready, go.

While we're waiting, how about a quick illustration of why that's really fucking dumb:

Assume one of either Emmerton or Mursak makes the big club. I'm sticking with Mursak. That means the Wings will have 16 spots filled, and - with the cap reaching $64m next year - $16.4m to play with. The team needs a top 4 D-man, a bottom 4 D-man, a backup netminder, a bottom 6 forward, and, ideally, a top 6 forward.

So, how about we go ahead and allocate $8m to find those two blue liners. That should be more than enough, right? Plug in $1.5m for a backup - again, more than enough. And hey, look at that

We've still got seven million dollars to sign two forwards.

Now go ahead and take a look at the upcoming free agents list. The only damn one of them that we wouldn't be able to snag if we really really wanted is Brad Richards. And, considering the dude is going to want a payday and a several year term, we wouldn't be in the market for him anyway.

So, surprise! Lidstrom's contract doesn't hurt the team at all. The man took a pay cut, a massive pay cut, in a monster year featuring a huge rebound from the year prior. His presence will only make this team better, and his contract doesn't even come close to handcuffing the front office.

He's the leader on the ice, on the bench, and in the locker room. He's a mentor for guys like Kindl and possibly this year Smith. His outlet pass facilitates the Red Wings style of play. His shut down defense is on display night in and night out against the other teams' best players - usually all 20 somethings. He embarrasses NHLers left and right and quarterbacks the powerplay like nobody else in the business. He still dominates the back end in terms of point production. He's a workhorse, and though he's 41, his durability is the stuff that makes guys 15 years his junior look like Wilford Brimley on skates. He's second all time in post season games played AND playoff points by a defenseman (first all time in playoff points by a defenseman who didn't play with Wayne Gretzky). He's got 1,108 career points and is a career plus 429. His 7 Norris Trophies makes him second only to Bobby Orr, and there is no question that he has had the greatest career of any NHL blue liner, ever.

So bitch all you want, but the facts are in. You're wrong.

...is it October yet?

Another Lap: And in the streets, they rejoiced

2011-06-20T13:59:00.000-04:00

As opposed to whatever they do in Vancouver, I guess.

Did you hear those angels singing Handel's Messiah? How about those heavenly trumpeters heralding a great triumph? Did you feel the earth shake like it only does when a thousand unicorns simultaneously reach climax?

He's back, bitches.

He gave us a bit of a scare there. True, we all kind of knew deep down inside that our fearless leader still had plenty in the tank and a desire to round out that fist full of rings he's pushing for. But that doesn't mean that we weren't all a bit worried.

OK... maybe "a bit" is putting it lightly. Perhaps some of us were shaken to our very core at the mere thought of what this team would be like without the best defenseman in the league. Perhaps we got a little carried away once or twice. Perhaps one or two of us found ourselves naked on the roof of a police station, brandishing a rusty shiv and chanting in tongues. You know... not to be specific or anything.

Still, deep down, we knew this had to happen. 20 years of making the playoffs? Doesn't need to stop there now. The legend will return and hot damn this is going to be an interesting summer.

The cap is expected to hit $64 mil for next year. Rafalski's $6m is coming off our roster, and while it'd be near impossible to replace him when he's healthy, he hasn't been. That $6m can go a long damn way. We've got options left and right, and at the helm is the best damn GM in sports. New coaches are coming in - so hopefully that whole player apathy thing fades away and we fix the underperforming clusterfuck that has been our special teams and defense. And the cherry on top is that we'll have the best D-Man in sports and a perfect damn human to lead the team on the ice.

All that adds right up to a giant bucket of hell yeah. I cannot wait to see what Kenny does this summer, and I cannot fucking wait for October.

Lidstrom returns in June 2011. Lord Stanley returns in June 2012. Fucking. Right. Doggy.

...is it October yet?

Grievances: Martin Luther's got nothing on me

2011-05-15T20:00:00.002-04:00

Well... it's about that time.

We lost. I grieved. Then there were three more damn games to drag me back in. More grief. Huzzah.

However, immediately after Wednesday's disappointment just wasn't the right time to start the bitchfest. After all, the team who didn't show up for the first three games turned around, picked up the pace, and made a series out of it. Instead of continuing the biggest roll-over this team has seen in an absurdly long time, our team gave the fans something to watch. During that resurgence, we got some of the best hockey I've ever seen. So, before I start this little sulky diatribe, let me make clear: I sure appreciate that late effort. The Wings almost did what seemed impossible. They almost made history. They almost cleared a direct path to 12, because there's no damn way any of those other teams would be standing in the way of a rejuvinated Wings team.

But therein lies the problem.

"Almost"

Make no mistake - the Red Wings should have won that series. Even though they took the series to 7 games, rallying from a 0-3 deficit, this team underperformed. Since mid-November, that's been the case. Yeah, yeah, I know. 20 consecutive playoff appearances. 11 consecutive years of putting up over 100 points in the regular season. A division championship. By most metrics, this was a pretty damn good year. Most metrics.

But damnit, this is Hockeytown. Two years of being booted in the Western Conference semi-finals just isn't good enough. Call me spoiled, call me unappreciative. Call me collect and ask if my refrigerator's running. No matter - the benchmarks for success set for this team are based on the talent on the roster, not on how the rest of the league performs. All of the above successes may be enough to make a Blue Jackets fan cum in his pants, but here in Detroit it's underachieving.

Should the world's best poker player be satisfied that they won a couple of hands and then walked away empty handed? Should the world's best fisherman be OK with hooking an undersized guppy? Should a world-renowned arson be alright with lighting a match and blowing it out?

Fuck no. You don't get to be internationally recognized as an arsonist by settling. You emulate Sherman, march to the sea, and burn that motherfucker down.

Unfortunately, the Wings stopped after striking one match. They started off OK, but fizzled out well short of burning everything in their path to the foundation. Hence: the disappointment.

Hence:

The Winged Wheels List of Shit We're Pissed off At and/or About

Jiri "Hey dickwad, you're supposed to be our scoring depth" Hudler

Apparently, the Jiri Hudler Motivational Song just wasn't strong enough. Sure, Happy was able to turn his season from a 6 point pace to something a bit better. In the middle of the season, dude actually helped out a bit. Hell, when he was on that line with Cleary and Dats, he was downright dangerous. But again, in Hockeytown, towing the line in the regular season just isn't enough. It comes down to post-season success. It's why I'm, more or less, totally OK with the fact that Marian Hossa doesn't don the Winged Wheel. Sure, he was outstanding in the regular season. Sure, he filled that hole of the extra sniper/30 goal scorer that this team seems to desperately need. But when it came down to the time to actually show up when it mattered, the dude went away. This season, Happy didn't even fill the category of being altogether useful in the regular season. His entire purpose was to provide us with fodder to joke about and to take up valuable cap space. Then, came the post-season.

10 games. THREE FUCKING POINTS. One goal.

Oh, but maybe he contributed elsewhere. Played defensively responsible Red Wings hockey and didn't do anything to single handedly severely handicap our ability to advance, right?

Oops.

In Game 7, Happy decided to jump into the play, finally, by getting physical. After watching San Jose beat us in the checking game for most of the series, Hudler took a cue and stepped up. Unfortunately, his time in Russia must have exposed him to some weird ass radiation that made him color blind. Rather than using the body against a shark, Hudler decided to do the only logical thing his drug addled, syphilitic Czech brain could figure out:

Fuck Dan Cleary's shit up.

In what would be a blatant violation of Rule 48, had Cleary been playing for the other fucking team, Happy took initiative by blindsiding him. Right in the dome. Cleary hit the ice and didn't return, as he had just suffered his first career concussion.

That's right. Not only did Hudler take a damn good role-playing, hard-working, relatively productive player out of the most important game these guys have played since June of 09, he potentially seriously affected the rest of his career. Good job Happy. Now take off that jersey and don't ever fucking put it on again.

By the way, the Winged Wheel was able to get this exclusive picture of Professor Zap Him in the Dick himself, taken shortly after the loss:

Fuck off, Goat.

Sitting Back Like A Pushover

There was a dramatic difference between the way this team played in Games 1-3, and the way they played thereafter. The best illustration thereof came at the end of Game 6. Like they did frequently throughout these playoffs, in facing a loss, the Sharks started acting like horrendous bitches. They all crashed Jimmy, piling on top of him, clearly attempting to rattle at best, injure at worst, our best player not named Norris.

In the first few games, the Wings reaction to that kind of spineless action would have been to watch while Jimmy defends himself. The closest they would have come to reacting appropriately would be to wait until a ref looked at them and then slash the offender in a way that allowed them to dive to the ice and feign injury. At the end of Game 6, they were finally playing like a damn team. They dropped gloves and stood up for the guy they left hung out to dry for so damn long.

The part that pisses me off? Why did it take to the end of game 6. Everyone ended up making a big deal about the diving and the intentional snow showers being blasted into Howard's face by those bitches in teal. You know how that wouldn't have been a problem? If in Game 1, Abdelkader, Ericsson, Bertuzzi, fuck - even dipshit Hudler would have grabbed the first diver/showerer and broken his damn jaw. If the refs aren't going to police the game, its time to do it your damn selves. I understand the concept behind avoiding retaliation, and getting payback on the power play. But when the officials are calling the game in such a way that rewards the diving and doesn't penalize the unsportsmanlike play, relying on the man advantage is kind of fucking stupid. Especially when your power play has a wicked case of whiskey dick.

I can't help but think that this series could have been a lot different if one friggin player would have shown one ounce of initiative in Game 1, and would have stood up for his team. Why the fuck do we have a 6'3" defenseman if he's not going to bother to be worth a damn?

Which brings me to:

Jonathan "Off to Toronto With You" Ericsson

Recent reports have indicated that Big E has decided to be a Big Dick. In a move that has me wishing Stevie would have stuck around and taken over a bit earlier, E was offered a multi-year deal with the Wings valued around $2m a year. Ericsson, in a shrewd career move, turned it down.

Wait - what?

He turned it down? What the fuck? Wait... how much. Who the? HOW?

So... Kenny Holland, easily the best GM in sports, offered ERICSSON a deal that not only keeps him around for another year, but for several? And he wanted to pay him more than the league minimum?? What the hell world are we living in? What exactly was Kenny watching?

Was he really that excited about the several games where E decided to fill in for the gaping hole Lebda left in our blue line by jumping the rush every chance he got? Did his irresponsible pinching give Kenny a chubbie? (Ha, that sounds funny) What the fuck...

This is, by far, the most frightening thing to come out of all of this. Ericsson was, by far, our worst defenseman all year. He played one good game, which was luckily game 6. But apart from that, he has no purpose wearing the Winged Wheel. Hearing that Holland offered such an absurd deal is terrifying. It seems to indicate he's starting to lose is damn mind. Either that or he lost a bet to Glenn Sather.

Nothing is scarier than losing faith in the brain trust... which brings me to

Babcock

Oh. There'll be a bigger post on this issue. Suffice it to say, it is the Winged Wheel's official position that Babcock needs to go. I'm over it. No more above ground pools full of fake tits and Jack Adams trophies. Why? How about a few reasons:

Playing prevent defense for an entire period with a one goal lead against arguably the most potent and deep offense in the league, is objectively speaking, fucking stupid.
Doing the above after it failed one year earlier, is objectively speaking, really fucking stupid.
Doing it more than once in the same damn series, where it fails repeatedly - ABSURDLY fucking stupid.
Jonathan Ericsson and Ruslan "Ah shit, you mean I have to keep playing in the playoffs?" Salei on the Penalty Kill???
When the other team are playing like dicks and nobody's calling anything - it's time to let them off their leashes.
I don't care how much faith you have in your outstanding goaltender, it doesn't work to play them every single game over and over and over and over during the regular season.
There is absolutely no reason a team with Nick Lidstrom, Brian Rafalski, Nicklas Kronwall, and Brad Stuart on the blue line, and Pavel Datsyuk, Henrik Zetterberg, Darren Helm, Kris Draper, Drew Miller, and Patrick Eaves at forward should struggle at defense as much as this team has. NO reason.
The PK has sucked since 2008-09. How has that not been addressed?
With the kind of start this team had this season, it's simply not OK to finish with only one more point than we had last year - where the entire roster was demolished with injury.
When an entire team clearly stops performing to its potential - it's a coaching thing.

I'm not saying Babs is a bad coach. Far from it. His resume is a clear indication that he's one of the best in the league. However, there are some serious indications that he's lost this team. They've underperformed and haven't been very defensively responsible since we won the 08 Cup. Something needs to change.

Plus, the last time that the Wings didn't make the Conference finals for two consecutive years - the coach was Dave Lewis and he was on his way out.

Either way... this has been rather depressing. There's still hockey being played, though two of the teams are full of enough chokers, dipshits and floppers that they shouldn't even be in the playoffs, let alone contending for a Cup. Fuck the Western Conference Finals.

Ah well... at least we will have 19 in the fight.

Go Yzerbolts!

...is it October yet?

A Quick Aside: Bigotry, ignorance, and the shame of supporting Sean Avery

2011-05-09T21:20:00.001-04:00

OK so this is weird.

After game 3, I pretty much went through the catharsis that usually follows a Wings elimination from the playoffs. Foul language was used, objects were kicked, beer was drank. Lather, rinse, repeat. Afterward, the Wings started turning it on a bit more, and found a way to win a couple of games. Nevertheless, the aforementioned catharsis is neither healthy nor fun, so I am doing my best to temper my expectations and not get drawn back in emotionally. Call me a lousy fan, call me weak - I'm just not sure I can undergo such trauma twice in one post season.

So now, I'm in the ever strange position of being mostly mentally resigned from the pursuit of 12 this June, but still donning the world's most disgusting, patchy, Irish neckbeard in honor of the Winged Wheel. I'm watching playoff hockey, and not throwing things through walls, or screaming at the television until I'm blue in the face.

Weird.

On top of that, J-Rock, who hadn't posted since early August 2010, without prodding posted here twice. In one day.

Again - weird.

Also in that category - I am currently finding myself supporting a guy like Sean Avery. A guy that if you asked me what I thought about him a couple of weeks ago, I'd probably use some not-very-nice words and suggest a few melodramatic random acts of violence. That's just the kind of guy I am.

Now, before I continue, this isn't really the type of issue I generally discuss here. Taking things seriously and talking about things that actually matter in the real world, as opposed to saying fuck a lot and over dedicating myself to a game, is not exactly my forte. I'm almost as out of place as Brett Lebda on the blue line. But, I have important things that need to be procrastinated, and this is an issue that I think is not only important, but fundamental to our society being able to progressively cointinue to pull its big stupid head out of its ass, so, here we go.

As you are likely aware, Avery has made a bit of press for himself lately by openly supporting something that should be pretty damn obvious to all of us by now, but sadly, is often not. Sean's joined a campaign to publicly support marriage equality. Now, this is the type of thing that really shouldn't capture headlines. Honestly, it would be nice to live in a world where reading that story in a newspaper would be akin to the front page of the Freep noting "Pavel Datsyuk Officially Pro-Puppies, Kitties, and Chocolate Chip Cookies" or DetNews heralding "Mike Babcock to Press: I'm Against Genocide." No brainers.

But, unfortunately, there's still a bit of a stigma to officially endorsing something so obviously right. That stigma showed itself this afternoon, when the Big Shot, Industry Leading, Superstar Agency that represents such dynamic and all-world talent like Chris Neil and the Panther's Scott Timmins (I know... try not to lose too much of your shit over that kind of star power) known as Uptown Sports sent out a tweet reading as follows:

@UptownSports Very sad to read Sean Avery's misguided support of same-gender "marriage".[sic] Legal or not, it will always be wrong.

Ahem.

First, one must ask themselves - what the fuck is a C-level agent even bothering commenting on an issue like this for? What purpose, other than illustrating one's own extreme ignorance, does it actually serve?

But more importantly, how exactly is it that we still live in a society where not only do people continue to think in this fashion, but they feel justified in expressing those thoughts as objective opinions that are just as valid as the alternative argument?

Some have defended Uptown Sports decision to spout something that ignorant in that very way. "It's the other side of the coin. If Sean Avery can say he believes in marriage equality, then why can't Agent McFailure say he doesn't." In fact, the genius responsible for the message, Todd "likely 2 weeks from being exposed ordering young boys on criagslist" Reynolds, defended himself. He followed up on the official twitter account, indicating that his beliefs aren't hatred, bigotry, or intolerance and that he believes we are all equal.

No. No, that's not all.

"BUT," Mr. Reynolds says, "I believe in the sanctity of marriage between one man and one woman."

Well... that makes sense. He said he didn't hate people. It's kind of like saying "Just to be clear, I don't ever fucking use foul god damn language, because I fucking think it's super fucking disrespectful and classless as shit. Damn. Also, piss."

What Mr. Reynolds pea-brain fails to recognize, aside from how to get a client other than Mike Fisher that can actively contribute on a successful hockey team, is that the original message is hate. It's absolutely contradictory to suggest that we're all equal, but some of us are just intrinsically and immutably restricted from having the same rights and privileges as others. The fact is, there's a difference between expressing an opinion and the above message. This isn't like saying, "I like cherry, but I do not like grape," or "I think the United States has vastly underestimated the threat posed by packs of wild roving bears, and we are headed into a dark era, where we will be required to pay homage to our bear overlords by getting tattoos of Geraldo Rivera riding a zebra." Expressing the above "opinion" is an action. It is an action that seeks to maintain the status quo of inequality. It is direct participation in the exclusion and discrimination against gays. Period.

It's not an opinion. It's akin to declaring "I just don't think black people should be drinking from the same water fountains, is all!" It furthers hate and, as such, is an act. It's objective bigotry.

I'm not saying that people are wrong or evil to have that particular spiritual belief, in itself. I fundamentally disagree with it, and I think that most right-thinking people agree. However, everyone's entitled to their own spiritual decisions, and if they'd like to choose to believe in a god that values division over love - fine. Not gonna stop you there. But that whole "I believe in the sanctity of marriage between one man and one woman" thing? Keep that at your altar. Don't bring that out into the harsh sunlight of reality with you.

Nobody's suggesting that we should go find Mr. Reynold's pastor and force him to officially approve of same-sex nookie. Nobody's suggesting that we ought to make it illegal for to still think like it's the dark ages (when, by the way, dudes still fucked each other). You can have all the religious beliefs you want, but when you turn them into active discrimination by supporting policies of inequality - you are, objectively speaking, a bigot. You are, objectively speaking, practicing hate. It's not a valid opinion, and it's not OK.

Face it: allowing a group of people to have the same rights as the rest of us does not harm you in any way. It is not a zero-sum game; it does not remove any rights that you have, or take away from your quality of life. As Steve Miller would suggest, time keeps on tickin, tickin tickin. Your life will remain unscathed. You may disagree, but that's the nice thing about the society in which we live - you can keep on disagreeing to your hearts content. You just can't take away someone else's rights because you're uncomfortable with it. You'd think we would have learned this lesson by now.

A positive that comes out of this, though? Well, now players that refuse to play in any arena that allows women to wear pants, or for any organization that's ever hired someone who's Muslim or Jewish, have a go-to agent. That's a niche that surely needed to be filled. More importantly, however, the overwhelming majority of responses on the vast series of tubes comprising the interwebs has been right-on. Calling out bigotry to its face, and getting on board with... uh... Sean Avery. Good lord, that's still weird. I have to think that a few years ago, that would not have been the case.

It's a bright glimmer of hope giving us reason to fight through the uphill battle to do what in the past was considered impossible. A reason to not totally give up.

And you're damn right I brought it back around to something germane there. Game 6 at the Joe tomorrow. Anything can happen. I won't go so far as to say I expect it to - but I'll definitely be watching. Get loud, Hockeytown. Go Wings.

10 to 12.

No Shoot? No Shit

2011-05-09T00:18:00.000-04:00

I need more shoot? I don't think so. Pavel Datsyuk and his 1 arm somehow defeated the SJ sharks 4-3 tonight. Did this game look familiar?

Well, it should have, except opposite. WE.GOT.OWNED. Shots? We lost.... chances? We lost.... Effort? eh, that one was a draw... anything that WASN'T goaltending? We lost. I'm excited as anyone that we won the good ol' hockey game, but let's be real here. We've got a lot of room to improve and we got our asses owned. It's nice to win a game we don't have any right even being in. But let's do ourselves a favor and at least have all of us show up next game.

Mule didn't play in the third for a reason... mother fucker is too hurt to be playing hockey in the first place. It's Mikey Mo or bust in the next game. If we wheel out another busted ass Mule then we better wheel out Bab's head on a stake because that's what i'm gonna be looking for... his being out there is TOTALLY insane.

For Babs this is "rally or bust". Show me you haven't lost this team, win the series and I'll rejoin those of us with unwaivering stupidity/faith.

Does everybody know what time it is?

2011-05-08T17:20:00.001-04:00

No Tim, it's not Tool Time... go back to making terrible movies and talking about Michigan.

Anyhoo...

It's time for the Wings to show me that I'm an idiot for abandoning all hope, an idiot for shaving my sorry excuse for a playoff beard (though I doubt it was half as bad as captnorris5's neck beard- See Below), and an idiot for not buying tickets to game 6.

The Neck Beard in action

It's time for Franzen to either fucking shoot or sit in the press box. And yeah, I get it... his ankle hurts. But last time I checked his ankle doesn't prevent him from shooting... and if it does WTF is he doing in the lineup anyways?

It's time for a forward to become the leading goal scorer. Don't get me wrong, I love that Lids has put up 4 goals in the playoffs. Not loving that none of our forwards have scored more than 3.... totally unacceptable. Speaking of forwards not scoring............

It's time for Filppula to realize that it's not OK for him to not score or make plays. Your time for development is done, it's time you step up to the mainstream and start producing up to your supposed potential. Time for our friend Happy to get zapped in the dick, or just go back to Russia if you'd like, or die, you know... just pick one but either way this whole "forgetting what to do with the puck" thing is getting really fucking annoying.

Finally, it's time for the Wings to instill at least a shimmer of hope into this series by pulling out a HUGE win in SJ. Here's to a Game 6 at the Joe.

Cliches and Melodrama: Time to rally

2011-05-04T17:44:00.000-04:00

Do or die. It's now or never. Time to put up, or shut up.

Tonight we see what this team is truly made of. Games one and two? They were gross. But we lost each by a margin of only one goal. One bounce changed, one shot different, and this is a different series.

Make no mistake. We're facing an uphill climb. But tonight is the night we have the opportunity to show each and every one of the so-called "experts" the value behind veteran leadership. For every lazy writer or ignorant analyst that year-in and year-out criticizes the Red Wings for being too old, too grey, too battle weary - tonight is the night Hockeytown gets to show them exactly why that age and experience is necessary to achieve sustained excellence. Maybe now and again a team full of teenagers and early draft picks can luck their way to success (like a certain team on the other end of Michigan Ave), but to pull off something truly impressive - it takes what the Wings have. That veteran leadership? That wealth of experience? Those fists, heavy with rings? That's what can make the difference in a close series like this.

That's what can overcome all the cheapshots, all the diving, and all of the Californian "work ethic" that's been on display on the West Coast. Is it surprising that the team from an area where success is defined as being the best at playing dress up and pretend attracts the type of play we see from these Sharks? Is anyone shocked to witness the embellishments and cheap plays away from the action from a team that hails from the state that champions blow-hards over hard-work?

They may be flashy. They may be favorites. But here in Detroit?

We couldn't give less of a shit.

In stark contrast, Detroit honors the down-trodden, the beaten. We boo the self-entitled little snobs that have never worked a day in their lives right off stage at the Fox because our values are the same that will win us this series. Overcoming adversity. Triumphing over the odds. Picking ourselves up by the bootstraps because you can be damn sure that nobody else is going to do it for us. Those are the values that built the Motor City, and those are the values that will continue to build this dynasty.

We all know that this Wings team is capable of. We've seen it in flashes. I expect we'll see it tonight. Kris Draper's back in the action, ready to put those values to work. Outhustling. Outworking. Outcaring.

It's what ended the drought in 97. It's what put the Cup in Vladdy's lap in 98. It (and a ton of money) is what cemented Stevie and Scottie's legacy in 02. And it's what showed Gary that there's nothing he can do to stop us in 08.

It's what we've got, and what the Sharks clearly don't. They demonstrate it in every little cross-check when the refs aren't looking. They shower it in Howards face every time they take the extra couple strides and stop extra hard in the blue paint. They put it on display with every embellishment, every dive, every theatrical performance.

Do they have talent? Sure.

Do they have heart?

Not even close to what drives the Motor City.

Chase them back to the left coast tonight, Hockeytown. Scream and yell like there's no tomorrow. Lose your shit like it's going out of style. Show the fans from HP Pavilion what a playoff atmosphere really is. Give it your all.

12 to 12. Bring on the fucking fishies.

TP:60 Episode 17: Wherein vulgarity and playoff anxiety abounds

2011-05-03T13:50:00.000-04:00

Last night I had the privilege to jump on TP:60 with Hollis, Discher, and Petrella from The Production Line and Mike Serven, proprieter of @mserven and @redwingsfeed on the twitters, and voice-sexer extraordinaire.

Take a listen to the shenanigans here: TP:60 Episode 17, or download the podcast through whatever podcast subscription service you know and love.

Things got a bit weird at times, as is inevitable when dealing with man-children, and perhaps even a bit depressing when talking about the Wings' recent struggles against the little bitches in teal. If we get too down on the team and you need a bit of a pick-me-up, just keep repeating to yourself: "bin Laden got shot in the dome... bin Laden got shot in the dome..."

Either that or wait 2 minutes for the next dick joke.

12 to 12. Tired of writing that. Lets change that number, Wings.

Phun With Phones: Messing with the Sharks

2011-04-29T16:47:00.000-04:00

Well, it appears that the whole Sharks front office is busy out trying to round up people that are willing to feign an interest in hockey for tonight's opening game of round 2. So, this time, I had to settle with just leaving a voice mail with the Shark's Director of Hockey Administration.

Hope she calls back soon.

Puck drops in San Jose tonight - let the revenge begin.

12 to 12.

All The Prizes: The man with the golden voice gets them

2011-04-29T01:33:00.002-04:00

Ken Kal has always been a personal hero. As a child, I spent many nights listening to him call the games on my shitty little FM radio while I was supposed to be sleeping. There is just about no sweeter sound on earth than to hear that man shout "SCORE."

But this? This is fucking awesome.

If Ken Kal is not your hero, he needs to be. That was beautiful. I've been wanting to do the exact same thing around here in Chicago for a while. Admittedly, however, the answers would probably be less coherent, and there'd be a lot more drooling.

May Bear Jesus bless Ken Kal for joining us in blatantly taunting an entire fanbase to get all riled up for the Western Conference Semifinals Grudge Match II Extravaganza. Bring on the Sharks and their lousy Californian fans. Hopefully that worthless coast finally falls into the sea the second Red Bird One takes off for DTW after Game 2.

12 to 12, bitches.

Back to Normal: I can see clearly now, the bandwagon's gone.

2011-04-27T16:45:00.000-04:00

Da-da-da, da-da-da, da-da-da, da-da-no damn more.

It's like a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. Things are becoming much more right with the world. It started with about a week left in the regular season, when the Wings locked up the Central. It became a bit more bearable to live in this city. But still, I lived under a bit of a cloud. Hell, I was a die-hard-lifelong-unhealthy-obsessive Wings fan living in Bandwagon Central. Not only that, but a rewarded bandwagon. A group of non-fans who haven't watched a collective 60 minutes of hockey in their lives before 2008, suddenly crowing about their shiny new cup.

It wasn't much fun.

Now, I'm sure if I were mature in any sense of the word, or perhaps if I wasn't a terrible sport, this would not have been so bad. But living here before the Great Flash In The Pan of 2010 was kind of fun. It was by no means a "hockey city" - nobody outside of Madison street cared about hockey. Occasionally, however, there would be a few drunk frat boys in Wrigleyville pretending they cared about baseball so they could have an excuse to throw up in public that would chirp about the Wings.

Oh what joy that was. "Detroit sucks," you say? Well my friend, it sure doesn't seem that way on paper. Hell, at the time we had more Cups in the previous 15 years than the measly little bitch team down 94 had in its 83 year history. We had just been to two consecutive Cup Finals, walked away from one with a big shiny trophy, had won the division year after year, after year, after year, after year - et cetera. The ensuing response that I'd heave back at the over confident little children who donned the racist logo on their chest, was just way too fun.

And then, it happened.

Luck just happened to go the Windy City's way. They built a franchise on early draft pick after early draft pick, all culminating in their one little window of opportunity. Then, luck struck again as Larry Aurie finally got pissed off enough about not having his number hanging in the Joe that he decided to send our entire roster - and half of Grand Rapids - in a veritable conga line to the DMC. Thus, the Wings just couldn't swing it in the post-season for a variety of reasons, and the Hawks had a clear path through the West. Again, luck reared its ugly head and gave them the Flyers - for reasons absolutely no one has been able to determine. Chicago was able to overwhelm the Flyers outstanding goaltending (jokes!) and win a damn championship.

In a word: Balls.

Since that fateful moment, life just hasn't been as fun for a poor sport like myself. It doesn't matter how much math I threw back at the Bandwagon - all the division championships, conference championships, President's Trophies and Stanley Cups in the world were no retort to the knuckle dragging bandwagoner's response of "uh deeerr, we got da cup."

As tough as it was to admit it, they were right. I was living in enemy territory. Not only that, but it was home to a team that had objectively out performed my beloved Red Wings and was suddenly full of people who proclaimed themselves fans of the sport. I could offer to explain icing to them as much as I wanted - inside, I knew they held the Right Bauer. Every off-suit Ace in the world couldn't help me. I was stuck.

Until last night.

To be totally honest, I really didn't care what was going to happen last night, going into the game. I knew that no matter what happened, it would be hilarious. Either the wheels would finally fall off of the bandwagon, or the currently most-overrated team in the league would complete one of the biggest chokes in playoff history. Both absurdly funny outcomes. Both completely acceptable.

After the result, however, I found that suddenly the clouds parted and the sun came out. Yes, even at one in the morning. Things were back to the way they should be. Life has returned to normal. The planets have returned to alignment. Todd Bertuzzi paused for a moment while kicking a puppy, to smile - ever so slightly.

The Blackhawks are no longer the defending champions. They're just golfers with a bunch of time on their hands.

That'll do. To return to the Euchre analogy, it's a new hand and I'm thinking about going alone. Sure, maybe they'll be able to win a trick with their one-and-done year, but I'm staring at a hand full of trump again and loving it. I'm still in enemy territory, but I'm back to being one of the few people in the city that cares about hockey. By the way, of those few, we're pretty much all Wings fans.

By now, you may be thinking to yourself "wow, this guy is a prick. This entire post is bragging that the Hawks barely failed in one of the biggest comebacks in playoff history? Is he really that much of an immature poor-sport that he's spending this much time gloating about a team losing? A team the Wings didn't even play?"

Yeah. Yeah, I am. But damnit, it feels good. The Wings are back on top of the teams on either side of Michigan Ave - and we're going to continue our march to the top of the league. Because of our first-round strengths, we've had a bit of a hiatus here, but now we get to exact our revenge on Todd's Sharks. No amount of diving will save them this year. The Wings are ready, they're getting healthy, and damnit, they're hungry.

Bring on the fucking fishies.

12 to 12 bitches. Bring it on.

I'll Let Them Fly: An Octopus Protest Song

2011-04-19T18:43:00.001-04:00

1952 - The Wings start a tradition of throwing an Octupus on the ice during the playoffs, the 8 tentacles representing the 8 wins it took to win Sport's Greatest Trophy, The Stanley Cup

2011 - Gary Bettman continues his Sherman's-March-To-The-Sea-esque siege on the sport of hockey by trying to destroy the tradition. The NHL clamps down in an effort to ruin all fun had by anyone, everywhere. Soon, the league will attempt to outlaw puppies, rainbows, and the smiles of young babies.

Keep those Octopi flying, Hockeytown.

Hopefully I mitigated that whole "Can't Sing to Save My Life" thing by covering Cake's version, rather than Gloria Gaynor's. Lyrics and MP3 version below.

UPDATE: Click Here to Download the MP3 version

Lyrics - I'll Let Them Fly

At First I was Afraid, I was Petrified

Didn't know what I would do without the Octopi

But that I got real mad, thinking about your many wrongs

So I sat down, and I wrote this protest song

It started way back, in '52

A Hockeytown tradition, like that'd mean anything to you

We've hurled them on the ice, for such a long time

Now suddenly you say that we're subject to a fine?

Or even jail? How absurd

We're not going to take this you greasy little turd

We're from Detroit, yeah, We're from Hockeytown

What? Did you think that we'd just take this sitting down?

Oh no, Not I!

I'll let them fly!

As long as the Wings skate, I'll throw the Octopi

Go ahead and lock me up, or give me a fine

I'll let them fly! Let them fly!

When the Wings score, they'll come in waves

Same when Karen Newman sings "the home of the brave"

The Octopi will come, whether on the road or home

At the Joe, United Center, Jobing, or the Saddledome

It's just like when you said

Al Sobotka could no longer twirl them around his head

But despite your stupid rule, Al kept on swinging

Just like despite your lockout, the Wings kept on winning

So Hockeytown, get out of your chairs

All throughout the playoffs throw cephalopods through the air

Nevermind little Gary, and his stupid little league

It's out tradition, damnit, don't allow it to be under siege

Oh no, Not I!

I'll let them fly!

As long as the Wings skate, I'll throw the Octopi

Go ahead and lock me up, or give me a fine

I'll let them fly! Let them fly!

Oh no, Not I!

I'll let them fly!

As long as the Wings skate, I'll throw the Octopi

Go ahead and lock me up, or give me a fine

I'll let them fly! Let them fly!

To The Chron-O-John: A message for my future self

2011-04-18T13:54:00.001-04:00

Dear Future CaptNorris5,

I'm writing you from the distant past - 2011. By now, I know that by now you are likely very busy taking your flying machine to have it's unicorn blood changed and a new cahootin valve filter made of ivory shavings put in. Either that, or you've crawled out from the gutter you live in to drag yourself to the only remaining public library open in a 1,000 mile radius, just to log on and read this message. Likely the latter. Either way, listen up, because this is important.

The next time you feel like bitching about Johan Franzen during the regular season, do me a favor:

Shut the hell up.

Yeah. I know it can be frustrating. It's pretty clear that the Mule just doesn't give a damn about the 82 exhibition games that come before April in the D. When he decides that he does, because some random Uncle is in the audience, or he's bored with coughing up the puck along the perimeter, he puts in 5 goals in one game. But those periods of brilliance are unfortunately few and far between. Sure, if he gave 100% over the entire season, he may come close to that 50 goal scorer that Mickey thinks he's capable of. Sure, if he crashed the net more, and worked a bit harder, his regular season stats could easily double. But you know what?

Stop being so damn greedy.

I'd like to remind you of the 2010-11 season. You know, the one where it started off swimmingly? Where Mike Modano joined his hometown team, poised for a solid cup run? Where we were firing on all cylinders, leading the league through November? Of course, then came along, "Oh what the shit, not again" December - where injury after injury seemed to trip us up, followed by an equally annoying January, February, and March - where nobody really seemed to care about what happened on ice.

Chief among those guilty of that type of apathy, was the Mule himself. After scoring 5 against Ottawa, he decided he met his goal for the year, and began to play more like Jason "you're damn right I'm still giving you shit, even though you aren't on the team anymore" Williams. It was frustrating, to say the least.

But damnit, we're all human. Hell, you have to admit that here in Hockeytown, we're all a bit guilty about not caring about the regular season. The important stuff just doesn't happen until FS-D gives some promising young band of lyrical and musical geniuses the chance to rise to imminent stardom, sure to become the next Beatles.

By the way, have B-Dab broken up? If so, how did the world take it? I assume that since you're reading this, you survived the horrible, violent riots that surely ensued as soon as the news of such a tragedy broke. Though, I'm not sure why you haven't leaped from that overpass you live under, because I just don't know that I would want to live in a world wherein there was no B-Dab. I can only assume the fact that you haven't taken your own life indicates that The Good Luck Joes and the Victorious Secrets are still going strong.

But, I digress.

The point is, the regular season just doesn't matter that much to many of us. Sure, we love watching hockey. We love pretending that we're stressed over the standings, or that a mid-January game against the Blue Jackets means just so damn much. But when you compare those games with the way Hockeytown transforms at the drop of the puck for game #83, it's clear:

That shit just doesn't mean shit. Shit.

Not in a place that's enjoyed a pro-sports leading 20 consecutive years in the post season. Not for a fanbase that craves spring-time hockey. Not for a team that focuses on banners.

So can you really fault Mule for maybe phoning it in here and there? Sure, it'd be nice if he was just the dominant machine that we see in the post season all year long, but if given the choice, I'm taking playoff Mule when it counts - during the playoffs.

You were guilty of it, during that historic season. You bitched and moaned, and whined about the Mule's lack of performance. You called him lazy, a head-case. You didn't quite go so far as to write a song about it, but you were close. (By the way, where are you keeping your Grammys these days?). Then, when the puck dropped that fated Wedesday night in April - that shit changed. Playoff Mule returned.

As I write this, we're 2 games in, and Mule's got 2 points. At first glance, that looks like he's going along at his customary point-per-game playoff pace. Nay, nay. No, that shitbird Shane Doan (you remember, the guy that started in Winnipeg, moved to Phoenix, and then got ripped right back to Winnipeg because its a stupid friggin' idea to play hockey in the desert?) took Mule out of much of Game 2. And that, my future self, is the key to me telling you to just shut the fuck up.

As you remember, Mule took a high stick to the face in the last game of the regular season against that team that's very likely back at the bottom of the league in attendance ratings by now. He was looking a bit grisly, but no matter, he was back on the ice. Then, while that siren Karen Newman graced your ears with the heavenly sounds that come from her angelic pipes, you noticed Mule with a pretty epic bruise across the forehead. He looked at least a bit like he got into a head-butting competition with a Buick - and won. But again, no matter. No complaints. Dude was ready to play.

Then, Doan, very fricking purposefully tried to injure our Mule, driving his head into the board. Sure, maybe the hit itself was "legal," but Doan's got a history. Every time he plays the Wings, he knows his shouldn't-be-a-team full of career 4th liners and some overrated Russian, subsidized by their opponents and bought and paid for by fans like us, can't beat the healthy Wings. So he goes out and runs guys. Over and over and over. I can see it be kind of frustrating - being a franchise player with a team that shouldn't even exist - but the dude takes that frustration and tries to turn it into injuries. And so he did, that Saturday. He drove Mule into the boards, with a collision that would have ended lesser men's careers.

Not so for Johan.

23 stitches later, he was back on the ice, sans-visor. Nobody could have faulted him for looking at the score, and thinking "you know... I guess I could play without a face... but I think I'll sit this one out. To the DMC!" But instead, like a beast, he was back out, being as effective as ever. Even getting into a bit of a scrap after the aforementioned Douche of the Universe gave him a glove in his brand new monster-face.

Now, maybe I'm writing you a bit prematurely. We're only 2 games in at this point. But it's clear just by the difference we can see in his play - Playoff Mule is back. As long as he keeps this up, I'm more than friggin' happy with 93 skating in the Winged Wheel. He may struggle with motivation when he's facing off against T.J. "Tee Time" Oshie. But in the end, when it matters, the dude plays like a monster.

He's a Red Wing, through and through. Fully recognizing that the regular season, in all its importance, just doesn't mean that much in Hockeytown. He waits, drooling and ready, for April in the D. For playoff fucking hockey. For his chance to raise Lord Stanley's Cup once again.

And if you find yourself, in the future, wanting to fault him for that. Just remember these wise words from the past:

Just shut the hell up.

Enjoy the future my friend. I hope you're looking back at this time very fondly, remembering the pure bliss you got to experience in the upcoming June.

Sincerely,

Past Captnorris5

14 to 12, bitches. Lets make that "white out" bloody. Send 'em back to Winnipeg.

Phun with Phones: Coyotes Edition

2011-04-13T16:22:00.000-04:00

All in good fun. Let the March to 12 begin.

Time to Shine: The real season is here

2011-04-13T14:01:00.000-04:00

As the arguably greatest songwriters of this, or any generation, so eloquently put it:

Spring has sprung
Winter's Done
And Detroit will be the one
To Crown another Champion
This must be
April in the D

-The Good Luck Joes

For so many teams, making the playoffs is a goal. They begin the year and scratch and claw their way up the standings with every intention of squeaking in. For many other teams, winning a division is a big damn thing. If they can work hard for 82 games, facing tough opponents night-in and night-out, somehow putting together enough wins to earn at top 3 seed in the playoffs, they're ecstatic.

Those teams are not the Detroit Red Wings.

Folks, we just wrapped up our 82nd exhibition game of the 2011 season. For the Red Wings, this is when the season starts. Not to completely discount the importance of the regular season, but fuck it. It's a good past time. A fun hobby. A neato team building exercise. But, my friends, it ain't no playoffs.

No sir. When Al the Octopus comes out of hibernation (yeah, Octopi hibernate. They're the bears of the ocean) it's a whole new game. Scratch that. "Game" just trivializes it. Lifestyle. Religion. Spiritual Experience.

It's a big deal.

Tonight, the men in the Winged Wheel take the ice for that experience. Those last 82 games? They're out the window. No matter how shaky Jimmy has looked at times, no matter how lethargic some of our players (cough, MULE, cough) have looked, or how little they've seemed to care defensively here and there. All that shit is in the past. It's time for this team to do what this team does.

Win.

Time to illustrate exactly why the Red Wings have been the most dominant team of the last 20 years. Time to illustrate why Detroit is the one, and only, Hockeytown, U.S.A. Time to send those desert dogs back to fucking Winnipeg where they belong. Motherfucker, it's the playoffs.

And just to take it full-circle here, I leave you with some more lyrical genius from a hometown hero himself:

It Takes 16 Victories
That's not that many for this team
Been through this before
All we need to do is score
Get up, get ready,

The Wings just can't be beat.

-Mickey Redmond & The Lumberjacks, "Red White and You"

16 to 12, bitches.

16 to 12.

Rough Stuff: As opposed to just lying there and taking it

2011-03-28T14:19:00.001-04:00

I'll say it right now, some 6 hours before the puck drops against the Racists.

E and Abby better be ready to drop 'em.

As the season progresses, we're seeing more and more cheap shots and marginal plays. Left and right, teams fighting to earn a playoff spot or secure a better seed are giving it their all against the Wings. That is to say, they're all acting like they've gotten pep talks from Marc Crawford (too soon?).

Hell, in just the last week or so, we've see two obviously illegal hits on the Best Defenseman in Hockey. David Legwand took a late, high hit on Captain Norris early in the Preds game. Matt Niskanen, away from the puck, shoved The Perfect Human in the numbers, sending him head first into the boards. (Luckily for the league, the shitclowns from Versus were calling the game, so all they had to say about it was how far Lids bounced off the "active boards" at JLA). If there's one player in the league that you don't hit like that - it's Lidstrom. Yet, we've seen two different opponents do just that very recently.

And that's not counting all the other bullshit that's occurred throughout these recent games. Maxime "Rapes Babies" Talbot, punching Draper in the face while he was in a vulnerable position and unable to defend himself not once but mother fucking twice, anyone? Kennedy's stick just so happening to swing up and butt-end Abdelkader in the face in a post-whistle scrum? Homer's back receiving more blows than Bill Clinton with a duffel bag full of benjamins in a Tijuana titty bar?

Fuck that.

I'm not usually a complete mouthbreathing goon, chanting for fights at every single game. I'm all about showcasing the skills on ice and I totally get Babcock's aversion to sending his guys to the box for 5 minutes rather than taking a blow or two and going all Belle Tire over everyone's asses. But this just happens to be the exact reason why the phrase "there's a time and a place" was invented.

When it comes right down to it, there's a reason why Hockey is the only major team sport that allows its players to step aside and exchange blows to the face. It's a fast-paced, hard-checking game with action all over the ice and a relatively small staff of officials in charge of enforcing the rules of the game. Sometimes, a bit of enforcement needs to fall into the hands of the players themselves. When teams take liberties and the officials dole out the appropriate punishments, its appropriate to send a message. A five fingered message that you aren't going to just lie there and take it like an escort in Jiri Hudler's hotel room.

During the Leafs game on Saturday, I was thoroughly elated that Abby chose to drop the gloves and show Darryl Boyce it's not OK to take a run at one of our veteran defensemen with your knee out, away from the puck. It was a marginal play that didn't draw a penalty, so Abby did what scrappy guys should do: fuck shit up. The fight may have been a draw, but the message was there.

We may take less fighting majors than any other team in the league, but that doesn't mean your half-assed cellar-dwelling "team" full of goons and AHL fourth-liners gets to take liberties just because you're trying to make the playoffs in the Eastern Conference, a feat that should be easier than making Phil Kessel cry.

So why am I writing a post, bitching and moaning in run-on sentence after run-on sentence?

Because it's the first time I've seen that happen by a skater in the Winged Wheel in far too damn long.

That's a message that should have been given the other week against Nashville. It's certainly one that should have been delivered against Ray"Shut the fuck up you piss-ant hypocrite"Shero and Mario "Clearly Crosby's mentor, you whiny little bitch" Lemieux's Penguins. If not when Talbot decided to lay on top of Draper and punch him in the face (um, whistle? No? That's OK now? Oh, good) then certainly when Niskanen drove Lids into the boards from behind. It's a job that should fall to Jonny E, or Abby, two of our bigger role-players that can handle those kinds of things.

Hell, in the case of Niskanen, what the hell was holding those shitbirds back? This was the same guy that got his ass kicked by Sidney Fucking Rosby. Jiri Hudler should have been able to jump him and beat him to a pulp with one hand still duct taped to a Chechen brothel's bedpost.

Rather, we got a whole lotta nothing. Rather than sending the message of "look, we'd much rather beat you with skills, but if we have to, we're totally ok with beating you with a nasty forearm shiver," we decided to send the message of "eh, what the fuck ever. We're in the playoffs. We'll care tomorrow." All that tends to do is encourage douchey play. And, as it certainly recently seems to be the case, if the refs aren't going to do their damn jobs and blow whistles when whistles should be blown - then you can't send that kind of encouragement.

So what the fuck does this have to do with tonight? Well, much more so than Toronto, more so than Nashville, and I'll even argue more so than the Pens, the Bandwagon are rivals. While we in Hockeytown haven't really given a shit about the mismanaged dipshits down 94 in about two decades, we've been beating up on them pretty hard through that time. To wit, they're really not big fans of us. That's likely to up the scrap factor in tonights game.

Further adding fuel to the fire? Chicago is in 8th right now. A meager two points out of 10th. The Flash in the Pans are teetering on the edge of falling into post-season oblivion. After playing in 3 consecutive Cup Finals, Marian Hossa is about to be forced to spend his time caddying for Tomas Kopecky. Rather than having commentators and newsfolk alike excuse and chuckle at the youthful jubilance of a should-be-felon chugging cheap beer and publicly making a fucking ass of himself, we'll simply have to let Patrick Kane's alcoholism be between him, his lawyer, the guy he pays to bribe victims to drop charges, and God. Marty Turco is on the edge of not playing another game of hockey this year, or missing the playoffs and not playing another game of hockey this year.And what will be the deciding factor?

Well, one could argue the 6 points up for grabs in matches against their dominant, dynastic, rivals from Detroit would make a pretty big difference.

So, knowing the Hawks - they're going to want these points. And knowing the Hawks, they're not exactly about to start going about it with a whole bunch of honor and dignity. Similar to the Leafs, the Preds, and the injured Pens - we're playing a team fighting for the playoffs that's full of half-talented should-be-AHLers. As we've seen - that's a recipe for bullshit. I hope that I'm wrong, but I sure won't be surprised if Chicago's Forgotten Team decides to take a few runs at some guys who are a bit banged up at the end of a long season. Detroit injuries are just too valuable to a Chicago team they'll face two more times after tonight, and possibly in the first round of the post-season.

So, Abby... E... time to make like the Hansen brothers.

Foil up, bitches.

Let's get 2 more tonight. Fuck the Bandwagon. Go Wings.

H2H2: 14,000 reasons why Wings fans are better than everyone else

2011-03-16T14:18:00.004-04:00

There are just some things you can't argue with. Things supported by science, logic, and reason. Things that have been demonstrated true so often that they must be considered undisputed law. Gravity, death, nobody showing up to a Phoenix Coyotes game. Add one more to that list.

Wings fans are the best damn human beings on the face of the planet earth.

This weekend, like many of you, I had the honor and privilege to join a couple hundred die-hard citizens of Hockeytown to help raise some cash for some sick kids, watch our team skate in its storied home arena, and engage in general debauchery and silliness. Mission: Accomplished.

This event, like last year was and next year most assuredly will be, was one helluva time. Getting to meet new friends that you've already known for some time makes for a badass experience. I won't attempt to list all of the outstanding MFers I had the opportunity to meet, re-meet, and catch-up with here because, well, there was cold Molson on tap and I'd invariably miss far too many of you. However, J-Rock and I enjoyed every second of it - from walking in the door at Hockeytown Cafe to stumbling back to Chateau du Herm just a couple of hours before I needed to board a bus, and you lovely bitches and bitchettes had everything to do with it.

More importantly, however, this wasn't just some get-together of childish juveniles with a strong collective affinity for the Red Wings and alcohol. Nay. Any fan-base can simply get together and make bad decisions without leaving their stamp on anything more than a bar tab. But that's really not how we roll.

Nope, this adventure was about a bit more than ourselves. Citizens of Hockeytown across the globe banded together for a higher purpose - the kids. I cannot begin to explain how proud I am of our fanbase for raising over $14,000 for the Children's Hospital of Michigan. Luckily, I don't really have to, as I know you all feel the same damn way. What began as a halfassed band of over-enthusiastic Detroit transplants and die-hards pitching in to make something cool happen turned into a repeating event wherein 5 figures were scratched together in some admittedly difficult times to help those who really need it. Fuck. Yeah.

As I mentioned several run-on sentences ago, this just proves a long-known law of the universe: Wings fans are simply better. It's just the way things are. And, just as any good law of the universe, it comes with several seemingly-unrelated but scientifically-accurate and absolutely indisputable corollaries. Which leads us to:

The Winged Wheel's List of Indisputable Shit About Wings Fans

As as group, we've got a higher average IQ than the average number of times the NHL on NBC mentions Thid Rosby in a game in which he's not playing (i.e., hundreds upon hundreds)
Most religious tomes have been misinterpreted over the years and were originally written to sing our praises.
Our ranks include thousands of nobel laureates, 90% of all gold-medal olympians, and every US President ever elected, except for Harding.
We have, like, so many gosh darn facebook friends.
Wings fans were the most substantial contributing factor to the end of the cold war. After several decades of strife, we finally decided we'd had enough, and we willed the collapse of the Soviet Union. With our minds.
We are all excellent cross-stitchers.
You know those speed pass things you get to jump the lines at Cedar Point or Disney World or whatever? Yeah, we each get one of those for the pearly gates.
Unlike some teams' fans who wait until the weather gets warm to put on sweaters featuring super-racist caricatures, we know what icing is and don't boo blatant offsides. A second corollary to this rule can be summarized as follows: Fuck Chicago.
All attendance statistics are adjusted to make it fair to other teams, because we actually count as twice the value of normal human beings.
Stonehenge? Yeah, that was us.
In case of an emergency, our tears can be used to cure debilitating illnesses and broken bones. Unfortunately, we only tear up when shown clips of The Captain giving Vladdy the cup in 98, or watching #19's retirement ceremony.

Remember... this is science. No arguments.

A special stick tap needs to go out to some people who were particularly instrumental in the success of this event. Jenn MacRostie (@jennyquarx), Ellen (@inhyung), the fellas from TPL - Petrella (@mpetrella), Hollis (@chollis), and Disch (@512Disch), Casey Richey (@MrNorrisTrophy), Ms. B (@Baroque), The Chief at A2Y and I'm sure many others that I've just personally slighted. Try not to hold it against me. Seriously, you people (YOU PEOPLE?!) are amazing and did one fucking helluva job. If only I had the time or inclination to photoshop you into an above ground pool of fake tits like last year. You'll have to use your imagination this time.

Wings face off against the red-hot Caps tonight. Unfortunately the Wizzard isn't quite ready to go, and Joey Mac has been called up. I can't help but think Ozzie owes the Griffins some favors or something, and is simply trying to spare them Joey's goaltending by citing continued soreness. Either way, time to string together a hot streak before April in the D kicks off. Taking down a team on a streak is a good way to show that's about to happen.

Oh, and if you missed it because of the H2H2 festivities, be sure to check out the new poorly done Winged Wheel song for the Commissioner.

Go Wings and let the countdown to H2H3 begin.

Puck You: A Song for the Commissioner

2011-03-09T20:18:00.002-05:00

Dear society: giving me time off from my responsibilities does not lead to any sort of productive contribution to mankind. Clearly, it only results in garbage like this.

I imagine if you happen to be reading this, you are likely among the ranks of the hockey die hards. Those who live and die with their team. Those who put far too great an emotional stake in a game played by people you don't know. Those who obsess to the point where it makes Gary Busey and Charlie Sheen look like a couple of smart fellas with good heads on their shoulders.

Well, if you're anything like me and you fit in that category, I'm pretty sure I know exactly where you stand on how the league is run. It's a pretty universally accepted truth that anyone who enjoys hockey, hates its commissioner. Two lockouts, expansion into areas where the game is forced to slowly suffocate, horrendous marketing limited to shoving a single player down our collective throats, the most inconsistent bass-ackwards, shit-kicking, knuckle-dragging, mouth-breathing group of dickwads calling the shots... it all really adds up to a significant hatred of the little weasel who's overpaid to the tune of $7.2m dollars.

So what do we do? Write angry letters? Attend rallys? Picket games? Stage hunger strikes and lie down in front of moving tanks?

Fuck it. That seems like a whole thing.

I guess I'll just write a song instead.

All thanks to Cee Lo for the super idea. All apologies to everyone who has a vested interest in music not being destructed by talentless assholes with way too much time on their hands.

Hey, the Jiri Hudler Song seemed to work - he's turned his season right around. (I take 100% full credit for that. I refuse to believe it has anything to do with dedicated hard work, talented line-mates, and outstanding coaching). Maybe this little ditty will do the trick and we'll find ourselves with a new Commissioner in no time.

Oh, by the way, NHL - I'd be more than happy to interview for the position, and it just so happens that my salary demands are just under $7.2million.

Lyrics below. MP3 Version to come. See you bitches at H2H2.

Puck You - A Song for the Commissioner

You've been driving down the fun in the sport I love, and I'm like

Puck You.

I guess three early Pens first rounders just wasn't enough, and I'm like

Puck you, and Puck them too.

You keep messing with hockey, you little lawn jockey

Go eat some shit

So in my tin foil hat, I'll just leave it at that, with a

Puck you.

Well I guess you, don't know what a mess you

Have made of this friggin game.

Need someone to feed you, someone to dress you,

Even someone to help spell your name.

'Cuz you're so stoo-ooo-pid man I can't believe you

Are still getting paychecks.

Wish your dad practiced safe sex.

Ooo-ooo-oooh, just wanna be rid of you.

You can run and tell your boyfriend.

You've been driving down the fun in the sport I love, and I'm like

Puck You.

I guess seven southern teams just wasn't enough, and I'm like

Puck you, and Puck them too.

You keep messing with hockey, you little lawn jockey

Go eat some shit

So in my tin foil hat, I'll just leave it at that, with a

Puck you.

Now I know ya, had to borrow,

Beg and steal and lie and cheat.

To keep the C'yotes, in Arizona,

A place where water doesn't even freeze.

What kind of foo-oo-ool does stupid shit like you,

Get 'em out of the desert.

Make it seven, it can't hurt.

Ooo-ooo-oooh, I got some news for you

Literally everyone hates your ass right now.

You've been driving down the fun in the sport I love, and I'm like

Puck You.

I guess a bunch of bankrupt teams just wasn't enough, and I'm like

Puck you, and Puck them too.

You keep messing with hockey, you little lawn jockey

Go eat some shit

So in my tin foil hat, I'll just leave it at that, with a

Puck you.

Now Gary, Gary, Gary, Gary why you wanna hurt me so bad

What we ever do to deserve you making us so sad.

So we say (Insert well justified booing here)

Puck you!

You've been driving down the fun in the sport I love, and I'm like

Puck You.

I guess only one lockout just wasn't enough, and I'm like

Puck you, and Puck that too.

You keep messing with hockey, you little lawn jockey

Go eat some shit

So in my tin foil hat, I'll just leave it at that, with a

Puck you.

The Return: Weird? No. No, why would it be weird? It won't be weird. Right??

2011-02-17T12:53:00.000-05:00

What do you mean? No, why would it be weird?

We haven't been together for like 7 months now. We're totally over it. It's in the past.

I mean... sure. We were together for 27 years. And yeah, many of those years were the best of our lives. I mean, the best. We were so happy then. Remember the big silver cup he got me for our 14th Anniversary? That was so sweet. He was always so thoughtful like that.

Not very creative though... he got me the SAME damn cup the very next year! And AGAIN just a few years later. Sure, sure I loved it at the time, but geez! Buy a girl a necklace now and then. You know, this is why we aren't together any more! It's just too bad it took so long!

No. No, I shouldn't say that. That's not true. I loved our time together. It was special. Nobody else was anything like him. So stoic and strong. I always felt safe with him around. Like nothing could go wrong. Like we could do anything.

But, it's in the past. He's moved on. We have a new life now. He's found someone new. And you know what? I'm happy for him! No. No, really, I am! I'm really really happy for him.

I mean, sure, she's only 19 years old... but, you know... love knows no age. I mean... good for him to go out and find someone only a quarter of our age... good for him. I really, honestly hope that he and that WHORE are happy.

Okay, okay. I need to take a breath. Admittedly, I'm a little flustered. I mean... what does she have that I don't? She's new and exciting, fine. But what's so wrong with a bit of age and wisdom? What's so wrong with being established and strong; not being afraid to say what you want? But if he wants to just up and leave to Florida with his new young hussy, fine. Who am I to stop him?

We're adults. Things happen. People grow apart, and I realize that. I'm fine. Really. I am. I know it's the first time we'll have seen each other since he left, but I've had time to grow and I'm doing just fine on my own. It won't be weird. I'm totally over it.

I mean... that's not to say I don't still have hope for the future. Maybe after he gets this little mid-life thing out of his system he'll be ready to come back. I won't hold it against him. Hell, I won't even complain if he gets me that same cup over and over again. I'll treat him right, this time. Never let him go.

But no... no, it won't be weird. Why would it be weird?

It's just 2 points. Go get 'em boys.

The Importance of Rest: Why exhaustion kinda blows

2011-02-16T18:04:00.000-05:00

Only a couple of days until Brad Stuart and his busted jaw rejoin the lineup for the Winged Wheel. This is huge for the Wings. We've had some serious difficulty with our defense since the big man left our lineup. It's been tough to keep pucks out of our net, and shots away from our netminders, especially with Kronwall and E doing their best Lebda impressions. Stuart's return, hopefully, will be a harbinger of better defensive effort in the near future. Incidentally, it is also an outstanding excuse to use the all too underused word "harbinger." Fuck yeah, harbinger.

We've already got Dats back on the ice, and Modano is aiming for a return in only about a week and a half. ValFil is out for a bit, but hopefully (fingers crossed, Mr. Aurie) he won't be out long. A healthy-ish lineup will go long ways to adding to our depth, and helping with consistency.

However, as exciting as all of that is, there's a player that's been hurt whose return I'm anticipating more. Granted, he took the ice on Sunday, but he was in a suit at the time rather than in pads. I'm talking about Chris "400 Wins Means Hall of Fame, Bitches" Osgood.

Yeah, yeah. I know. One of the dead horses I so thoroughly enjoy flogging around here is about how much I dig on the Wizard, and how I just don't think he gets enough love. But this is different.

As much as I'd like to see Ozzie pile on some extra wins to keep moving up that ladder of all-time greats, his return means more than a quenching of my unapologetic fandom. To me, the faster Ozzie's able to make it back, the better our playoff chances are.

Now, before you lose your shit, screaming and yelling about how Super Jimmah is our playoff netminder and how I need to stop living in the past, hear me out. I agree. James is our #1 guy, and if we are going to lift #12 this June, he'll be the guy backstopping us to the finish line. But he can't do it alone.

The fact is, Jimmy's been playing a lot. With Joey Mac as the only other option, Babs has had to rely on Tiberius more often than he likely would prefer. Howard has answered the bell, and has done a good job of winning games even when the Wings decide it would be funny to watch him get pelted with shot after shot. It's provided pretty good results in the regular season so far; the Wings sit second in the West, first in the Central.

But that's the trouble, idn't it? We're Wings fans - not really all that interested in the regular season. Call us spoiled, entitled, absurdly attractive, etc., but when it comes down to it, there's only one thing that matters for the Winged Wheel:

April in the D.

Well, and May and June, but you know what I mean. We've got a team that's mostly built for the playoffs. Lots of forward depth, grinding stifling defense (when they're not Lebdaing it up), and the best coaching mind in the game right now. The big question? Goaltending.

I have no doubt, that Jimmah is talented and driven enough to take us to the promised land. The trouble comes down to stamina. Last year against the Sharks, it sure looked that young Howard faltered, due in no small part to fatigue. His focus seemed to wane a bit and he started letting in goals that he easily turned away during his dominant regular season performance. Since, he's been very strong, but still looking shaky at times.

That got me thinking... is he playing too much? Well, in what might be a first for The Winged Wheel, I decided to use facts, logic, and reason to answer. I took a look at all of the goaltenders who played in the Cup Finals over the last 10 seasons and how many regular season starts they got to compare, and see if there's a trend.

...And now for something completely different.

Whatdya know... law students can do math. Sometimes.

Currently, Jimmy is on pace to match the 63 starts he had last season. Say that keeps up and we manage to hoist number 12 in June. At that pace, Jimmy will have more regular season starts than any other goaltender to appear in the finals since the lockout. The only netminder to have come close would have been Marc-Andre "Pick one fucking name, Douche" Fleury in 2009 with 62 regular season starts.

Not to get all TPSH on you, but its interesting that there seems to be a trend since Gary's Biggest Clusterfuck. Prior to the lockout, the goaltenders appearing in the finals featured some pretty elite names facing some pretty serious playing time. Granted, much of that likely has something to do with the idea of elite teams having elite payrolls leading to elite goaltending, but still. Since the lockout, the average regular season games started for goaltenders in the finals is a meager 44. Jimmy's already started 43.

This isn't to say a team can't win with a netminder who sees more starts, but I'm not sure it's a super good idea to test it. After 63 starts last season and one especially buttfucking workload down the home stretch, we saw our intrepid young netminder falter a bit in the second round. I think we can all agree that, for Detroit, the Conference Semi-Finals just isn't good enough.

That being said, with Nashville only 6 points behind us in the standings I'm not sure we can afford to jump full swing on the J Mac train, as it only tends to stop in Fuck Springs and Soft-Goals Township. But it's a damn good reason to keep our fingers crossed for a speedy return by the Wizzard.

Also a damn good reason for everyone who wants to shit on Dr. 400 to shut the fuck up and be happy that he'll be back to take some of the load before the real season starts.

Whatdya think? Is Howard seeing too much ice time? Is he young enough to endure? Has any of his relative shakiness had anything to do with being overworked? Can I have some of your money?

And with that, I conclude my brief stint down facts and logic road. I promise I'll try not to do it again. It feels dirty.

Keep Detroit Beautiful: A quick(ish) aside about the Motor City

2011-02-07T16:25:00.004-05:00

Super Bowl Sunday. The culmination of a season's worth of football, all leading up to the clash between a division rival and a rapist-led team from Pittsburgh. Oh joy.

Well, at least there's the ads right? Usually, that idea tends to annoy me to no end. Super Bowl commercials are usually a lot like New Years Eves. Everyone gets really hyped up about them, excited to have the greatest night of their lives. Then, the disappointment of the fact that the night wasn't life-changing sets in and ruins everything. At it's core, New Years Eve isn't that much different from any other night where you can wrangle a group of friends and loved ones together to get drunk and make bad decisions. Same with Super Bowl Ads. They're ads. They're selling you shit. They're usually 30 seconds with minimal entertainment value. Watching the Super Bowl to watch the ads is like eating a half slab of St. Louis style ribs for the super-exciting opportunity to gnaw on a bone.

Usually.

Last night was a bit different. For one reason. Sandwiched between the 30 second clips of products being hocked with lowest-common-denominator slapstick was a gem:

Fucking right doggy.

Chrysler put together one hell of an ad. As a transplant from the Detroit area, it strikes a hell of a chord. It is rare for one of the companies we've bled and sweated for, that we've supported and carried on our backs - often to our detriment - finally stands up for us and lets the nation know we're not dead yet.

For the last few years, I've been living in Chicago. There's a lot of benefits to residing in this city. I'm willing to admit that. The public transportation is outstanding. The downtown is absurdly well developed, and it's usually pretty safe to walk through much of the city at any time, day or night. It's right on the lake, with decent beaches. Public services are for the most part above-par. Nice parks, plenty of cops and firefighters, hospitals aplenty, shit there's even a free fucking zoo.

Pass.

There's just something that this city is missing. Maybe it's because I tend to value the scrappy underdog (present dominant dynastic company excluded). Maybe it's because of the influx of people from all over that waters down a bit of the city's defining character. Maybe it's because it's just not home. Whatever it it's missing, Detroit's got it.

There's a character to the region. It's the same character that built the auto industry, and in turn the nation, with muscle, sinew, and ingenuity. It's the same character that built the war machine that stopped, not one, but two world wars. It's the same character that has continued to struggle and churn out damn fine machines for a nation more interested in cracking jokes than lending a hand.

It's the same character that doesn't usually take credit for any of that shit.

That's why its nice to have a company like Chrysler stand up with a message that says "fuck you, we'll be fine" and "show some damn respect" all at once. For two minutes on Super Bowl Sunday the whole nation got a slight glimpse of that character. The whole nation got a message from a region who's blue-collar pride all-too-often prevents us from asking for the helping hand that we desperately need. Sandwiched between Pepsi and Bud Light trying to get us to buy their shit by showing people getting kicked in the nuts, was an ad with a message.

That's not to say the ad is without it's faults. Many may question the utilization of Eminem's star power to help deliver the "Keep Detroit Beautiful" message. He can be a polarizing figure. His past has been far from squeaky clean, and perhaps in an ad that seeks to celebrate the bright spots of Detroit, someone like Em could mar the message a bit.

Personally, it was spot on. Who better to take those reigns? Who else has the swagger and attitude to pull off "Hey, fuck you, this is Detroit and you don't have to understand it"? Would that message have been anywhere near the same with Icky Thump slowly building to a crescendo and Jack White's pasty ass pointing at the camera? Perhaps you'd rather have Kid Rock donning the Stars and Bars and somehow finding a way to rhyme his message about the D with "Matchbox 20"? (Is there any more dated lyric than "Got More Money, than Matchbox 20 / Get more ass, than Mark McGrath"? Yeah... me too, Bill.)

When it comes down to it, Eminem fit well. Yeah, he's not perfect. Yeah, he's done some shitty things in the past and hurt the people that rely on him. Though, by all accounts he's doing what he can to pick himself up by his bootstraps and get better.

Sound familiar? That's Detroit. We've got our faults and our flaws, but we know it, and we're doing what we can. While Bob Seger would have been safe, he wouldn't have been as poignant.

I've got no problem at all with the spokesperson. Though I have to admit, I'm a bit torn on the ad itself. Two solid minutes on Super Bowl Sunday doesn't come cheap. Many estimates peg the cost of the ad near $9 million. Hell, you can almost pay Brian Campbell's salary with that kind of coin. Other things you can buy with $9 mil?

Textbooks. Busses. Cots. Space heaters. Meals.

The Chrysler ad was one hell of a message. Shit, it was downright moving. But it was still an ad. When all is said and done, Chrysler's bottom line wasn't to wake up a nation that views Detroit's struggles as a punchline. They wanted to sell a car. It was a damn effective ad that had a great message, but the message wasn't the point. If Chrysler's end game was to help the city that cash could have been otherwise deployed. Estimates of Detroit's homeless near 18,000. Real unemployment in the city knocks on the door of 50%. One third of the lots within the city limits are fucking vacant.

Ungood.

In a climate like that, $9 million goes a long way. If this ad was about something more than selling 200s... well... it wouldn't have cost $9m. I know it's entirely unreasonable and could only exist in a pretty absurd pipe-dream - but how awesome would that ad have been as a joint venture between the big three? Split the cost. Maybe pick one car from each fleet to feature.

Imported from Detroit. Ford. Chrysler. GM.

But, I guess in the real-world we're stuck with things being less than perfect. We're stuck with the dichotomy between loving support for the Big 3, and a grudging distaste for many of the things they've done to hold Detroit back. We're stuck defending the industry that sometimes doesn't do enough to defend us. But they're ours and we won't stop. They're Detroit.

And while the ad wasn't exactly perfect, it was still damn cool. I'm sure Chrysler will take some serious flak for spending that kind of money on an ad after a "bailout." More evidence of the need of a message like this. We'll continue to take shit from people who want to pretend that they went through great personal sacrifice to "bail out" Detroit with what basically amounts to a high-interest loan. We'll continue to be a punchline to those who somehow think systemic crime, violence, and poverty is funny. We'll continue to be blamed for our symptoms while the disease is not only ignored, but celebrated.

That's fine. Keep it coming. We've got thick skin and we'll continue to persevere. Why?

Because this is the Motor City, and this is what we do.

Shitshow: Noun, A pathetic display of absolute garbage.

2011-02-05T23:43:00.002-05:00

Wow.

After two back to back performances like those, you'd expect me to unleash a (well-deserved) string of ephitets and childish obscenities. You'd expect me to photoshop some kind of image of a player who really dropped the ball today in some completely disrespectful way. You might even expect me to go stand on the roof of my building in a cape, vowing to turn to a life of evil villainy.

Not today.

No. Today, I will respond with reason. Objective calculations. Science.

Here goes:

Swing and a miss.

OK, so maybe I'm not really approaching this bullshit with reason, logic, and all the power of millions of years of human evolution. Perhaps I am reverting to my usual childish ways, but fuck it. Twenty-four hours. Two games. Both against division rivals. Both against teams that have been slumping.

ZERO MOTHER FUCKING GOALS.

Call me spoiled, but I really just can't be that happy that our team has finally decided to NOT give up 5 goals a game when they don't even bother to score ONE.

It'd be one thing if we just came into two super-hot goaltenders who were making unbelievable saves behind an incredibly solid defense. But, while Mason and Rinne were good, this was all about the Wings failing to do their jobs. Far too often, they'd manage to carry the puck right into the slot. Inches away from the net, they'd wind up. They'd set their sights, take careful aim, and prepare to let her rip.

Then they'd turn around and pass it to the perimeter.

Now, I know I'm no hockey professional. And hell, I'm more than willing to admit I'm wrong all the god damn time. But I'm fairly confident that this is a stupid fucking gameplan. Taking the puck to right in front of the netminder, and passing it to a shitty area to shoot from seems counter productive. Perhaps it's just me.

Well shit. It's been a while since I've written, and apparently it took a bunch of bullshit to get me motivated. I guess that makes me an asshole. I'm OK with that. But in that spirit, it's time to present:

The Winged Wheel's List of Shit I'd Like to Maul with a Claw Hammer Right About Now

Babcock's Sudden Stubborness

Oh boy. Uncle Mike has a myriad of reputations. A hard-ass. A demanding coach. A nutjob canadian wolf hunting man-boy. Among those? A guy that likes to fuck with us by juggling lines pretty much during active shifts. Most of the time, the guy can't make up his fucking mind. Dats-Z-Homer. Mule-Z-Bert. Dats-Helm-Hot Dog Concession Guy.

Well what the fuck happened to that in the last 24 hours?

It took 5 (five. five. FUCKING FIVE!) scoreless periods for Babs to finally decide that the trio of fancy-passers, Mule - Z - and Fucktuzzi, wasn't working. It took 100 minutes of play of these three dancing around the perimeter, refusing to drive the net, and chipping passes to each other until the opposition decided to turn it into an odd man rush for Babs to finally decide to maybe put someone on that line who was playing like they gave a flying fuck. 100 minutes of scoreless fucking hockey to stop trying to ram a square peg in a round hole.

Why? Why stick with that shitass garbage, but when we're winning, change lines on every damn shift? Did Babs lose a bet to Jiri Hudler or something? Perhaps he was too focused on the post-game scrum of Hungry Hungry Hippos to figure out a strategy for a game that might result in a goal or three?

Mule's Dedication To Only Giving a Shit Sometimes

Johan Franzen. When he's on? Holy shit, watch out. During the playoffs? Hot damn. Point per game - easy. Single handedly unclefucking every team he faces. During the regular season?

Depends.

Depends on if he decides it's a good day to show up and play some hockey. I really don't think Mickey's all that off with his assessment that Mule could be our next 50 goal scorer. He's clearly got that touch. He can crash the net like a powerhouse. He can dangle with the best of them. He's built to friggin score.

You know... if he gives a shit.

That game against the Sens? Mule's uncle was in the stands. He decided he gave a shit. He scored 5 goals. Thereafter? Seems like dude figured he'd built up some capital and could just turd all over the ice for two straight games. Sure doesn't sound like Mule, but he was quite possibly the worst player on the ice since his single-handed knucklefuck of the Sens.

Turnovers? Check. Perimeter play? Check. Playing with passion, desire, drive, dedication, or all around give-a-shit-atude?

Well... two outa three right?

NHL Officiating

After the 5th straight period of yumming chode, I made a quick wish to the Hockey Gods. I wanted our young, scrappy grinder who's been in a bit of a slump lately to provide the spark that can light a fire under this teams ass in the third period of a shitshow of a game. Drop 'em, Abby. The Preds are ready to scrap. Engage in fisticuffs.

Early in the third - holy shit. On the other side of the ice, away from the play, Justin Abdelkader and a Redneck Inbred, er, Nashville Predator tangle up. Abby's ready to go. He shakes his gloves free, and drops his stick. Not only that, but Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a taker. Here we go. Old time hockey. Two athletes ready to defend their team's honor. Ready to throw down like so many have thrown down before. Fists clenched, eyes locked, they begin to engage and - wait what the fuck?

Oh. No no. Gary wouldn't like this. No he would not. No fighting! That would just be far too entertaining and strategic!

The shitbird officials drag the two willing particpants apart - then giving them each penalties for some crazy shit. Two minutes for trying to make this fun to watch!

Alice Fucking Cooper

Hey... Alice... you're from Allen Park. You don't show up to a game in Nashville and provide entertainment for the enemy. You damn well beter spend that time actively rooting for the Wings. I get it... those "Schools Out" residual checks probably aren't that huge anymore. But fucker... honor thy roots.

Shit-Kicking, Wife-Beating, Mouth-Breathing, Nascar-Watching, Inbred Fuckwads

Hey dickholes... this is the NHL. Conduct yourselves accordingly. Sure - I suppose I get the allure of acting like a freshman-drunk frat boy at a professional sporting event, but lets make it a bit less about how fun it is to yell the word "suck" and more about the game, alright? Sell out crowd at Big Bo's Pork Rinds Arena? I'm guessing that has more to do with the more-tattoos-than-teeth confederates that wanted to see whoever the hell ate Vince Gill during intermissions than watching the product on the ice.

Seriously, that chant sheet might have been the most unoriginal piece of shit I've ever read. Gotta give props where its due though... I didn't expect that many Preds fans could actually read.

Sigh...

How 'bout we score a fucking goal next time, ok? Dats is back Monday. Let's hope that lights a spark.

Appropriate: Congrats to the Wizard

2010-12-28T22:01:00.001-05:00

You know what's pretty awesome?

Team leaders coming to the coach, asking for their veteran 3-ring goaltender to get a shot at his 400th win in front of a home crowd.

You know whats even more awesome?

Even after a disappointment in front of the aforementioned home crowd, the aforementioned veteran 3-ring future-hall-of-famer (yes he motherfucking is, damnit!!) getting that 400th win against the Colorado Avalanche.

Seriously. Other than the Joe, the Av's home ice is the best damn place for this little bit of Red Wings history to be cemented. Some of the best hockey the Great and Powerful Wizard of Oz has ever been a part of occurred against that team, on that ice. Where better for Ozzie to again show the world that he's a gamer?

From what I understand, Ozzie stood on his head and earned that win for the team. I say it this way because I was in a position where I wasn't able to actually watch the game. Again, completely fitting. I got to listen to the glory on a scratchy radio, with the soothing sounds of Ken Kal shouting out the action occurring on the ice. Just like old days, where because of the late starts against the Quebec Nordique's II: The Reckoning, I was relegated to listening to the ends of games in my room while I was supposed to be asleep. Hearing Ozzie's 400th (hall of fame) cemented in the same way I took in many of those wins back in the days of The Rivalry seemed all too fitting.

Now, this is one heck of an accomplishment. Oz is only the 10th goaltender of all time to reach the 400 win mark (hall of fame). Though, we should be careful not to get too carried away here. It was kind of a struggle for the Wizard to finally reach the historic mark (hall of fame). We can't allow this accomplishment, as amazing as it is (hall of fame), to somehow make us go overboard and read more into it than what it is. In other words, we need to be reasonable.

Ha. Logic and reason. That's funny.

Presenting...

The Winged Wheel's List of Shit that 400 Means for The Wizard

A guaranteed first-ballot spot in the Hockey Hall of Fame as well an entire wing dedicated to his legend;
A new NHL rule that forces all incoming goaltenders to get full-scale tattoos of Ozzie's face on their inner thighs;
A final agreement between all the world-religions about the meaning of life and what specific rituals please the omnipotent;
Energized by the good vibes, Jiri "zap his dick" Hudler turns things around and finds a way to end up with 145 points by the end of game 82 (ha, comedy is fun);
Rain clouds cease to precipitate dihydrogen oxide and start pouring Pepsi. All the world's crops die and the the four horsemen of the apocalypse appear on the horizon, but I'll be damned if Chris Osgood isn't seen dancing in the streets and drinking from gutters on a daily basis;
Gary Bettman turns to a pillar of salt;
How do you feel about "President Chris Osgood"? Doesn't matter. It's happening. Constitutional citizenship requirements be damned;
Trolls and pens fans that use that super-original term "Wasgood"will be shot in the brain by federal marshalls;
Did I mention the Hockey Hall of Fame yet?

Ozzie, good on ya. You deserve it. Good news for the Wings too, as so far this season, Ozzie's had more good starts than he's had lousy ones. Keep it up Oz, 4 more to make Grant Fuhr your eternal bitch.

And for the haters?

Atta boy, Oz. Now lets add another ring to that finger. Next stop, #12.

With Apologies: This one's apparently not on Larry

2010-12-27T19:29:00.000-05:00

We like to give Mr. Aurie a tough time around here for bending the roster over last year and having his way with it. To be fair, he's been a lot more generous to us this year as we've actually been able to ice a team that was not mostly made up of the Grand Rapids Griffins. Recently, though, it's seemed like he's made a bit of a resurgence.

Pavs, after a wonderful little Christmas present from our old friend Mikael "bag o' dicks" Samuelsson, ended up busting his hand something good - keeping him out of our lineup for a solid month. Then, last night...

...Cleary suffered a fractured left ankle in the third period when he was hit by teammate Brad Stuart's shot. He will be out at least four weeks.

Khan - via MLive

Son of a bitch.

But wait! I may have been a bit hasty here. Sure, like a stripper with daddy issues I may have every reason not to open my heart and trust. Larry's dicked us over time and time again. But this time... there may be a new culprit.

When asked to "air his grievances" in honor of Festivus, Todd had this to say:

"Dan Cleary for feeling fantastic every day he puts on his equipment," Bertuzzi said. "Pavel Datsyuk for having the sickest set of hands I've ever seen - he doesn't even have to stickhandle, he can still have a good game."

St. James - via Freep

Sorry Larry.

Apparently, to no one's surprise, Todd Fucking Bertuzzi has black magic powers that can destroy even the heartiest of men. Bert mentioned that he's got a problem with Pavel Datsyuk for being really god damn good. Though, he made sure to get specific. The Todd didn't seem to like Datsyuk's hands. Hours after that quote was published? Broken hand.

Well Merry Fucking Christmas right back atcha, Todd.

And really Bert? You have a problem with Dany Cleary because he's not injured all the time? Well fuck him in thirds! How dare he not have a broken foot!

Oh. Problem solved I guess huh 'Tuz? That'll learn him.

Turns out, based on the soundest of science, this current spat of injuries doesn't rest on the angry wrath of Larry Aurie seeking justice and his number 6 hanging from the rafters (Hang it High, Mr. I!). This little hiccup comes gift-wrapped from our good friend Todd.

At least that's all he said.

Oh wait.

"...Drew Miller just for sitting next to me. Chris Osgood for just being Ozzie..."

Son of a bitch.

Drew, watch your ass. Bert had a problem with Pasha's hands and he broke one. He's got a problem with you sitting. I'd be mighty cautious about who or what gets near your badonkadonk (sorry for the overly-technical medical terminology).

As for Ozzie... we'll he's got a problem with you for just, uh, being. We can only hope you live long enough to get #400. To be honest... it's not looking good.

Watch what you say, Bert. Crazy shit tends to happen when you open that evil little mouth. If you've got to air grievances, why not complain about how much Thid Rosby's ACL annoys you, or how you're sick and tired of trains not crashing through claude lemieux's living room?

Ozzie's got another shot at 400 tonight against the nordiques. The rivalry may be dead, but it doesn't mean I hate those fuckers any less. Lets make it happen.

Blue Christmas: The Holidays in Hockeytown

2010-12-23T23:19:00.000-05:00

Well, Santa is dead.

Either that, or he decided everything's been going so well for the people of Detroit lately that he needed to even things out. One thing's for sure, he's a motherfucker.

Dats is hurt for a month, the Wings are barely trotting along at a .500 pace this month, and our dominance over the conference is starting to slip a bit. Knowing this team, it's clearly just a hiccup - but that doesn't mean that hiccups aren't fucking annoying. In fact, if you've ever had hiccups, you know that they piss you and everyone around you off and you normally want them over as fast as fucking possible. I guess what I'm saying is:

Fuck the hiccups.

Tonight was just the latest mishap in the relative shitshow that has been the month of December. Losing our last game before Christmas leaves quite the bitter taste in the mouth. As such, I decided to hammer out the following bit of holiday prose.

A Winged Wheel Very Fucky Christmas*

'Twas two nights before Christmas, when all through the rink

The whole Red Wings roster decided to stink.

Outhustled, outworked, outscored, and outshot,

Defensive lapses, open men in the slot.

During preceding weeks, this became quite a trend,

Making Hockeytown cry, "Oh when will this end?!"

You see, us Wings fans are a real spoiled troop,

Winning is something we're rather used to.

Losing, really, is just not our style

Leave that to the Oil, the Hawks, or the Isle

But lately our heros have looked rather bland

Going only .500 over a ten game span.

Not to mention how tough it has been

To finally snag Ozzie's 400th win.

But that night was supposed to be a real changer;

The Blues aren't a team that causes much danger.

Over the years, without any glitches,

The Wings have been able to make them their bitches.

But, apparently the guys had other shit on their mind;

Getting a win was just not worth their time.

Rafalski had basically been cashed out for a while

The last couple games he had played like a pile. (You know... of shit.)

Presumably he had other ideas in his brain;

Wrapped gifts, Christmas dinner, New Year's champagne.

Perhaps the same happened with his colleague, big Bert,

Who was dreaming of puppies and kittens to hurt.

And Homer didn't seem to play quite like himself

For sure, he must have been think of an elf.

That speedy young Helm, he just couldn't finish

Neither could Fil, who's first language is Finnish.

(Don't give me shit for rhyming the same word.

I'll do what I want, I have the last word.)

And don't get me started on the one they call Happy,

It would be a compliment to say he's been crappy.

That dumb little fucker has made us all sick.

I think we agree, we must zap his dick.

And Osgood lost out at 400, a feat,

By being way too fucking easy to beat.

It sure would be nice for him to not suck,

So he could stop making me look stupid as fuck.

And sure there were bright spots, some plusses and scores;

But in the end the stupid Bitch Blues just had more.

So now, after Christmas, it's time for a change

I'm ready to get back to our winning ways.

Coach Babcock must stare (warning: can cause death),

Team leaders must rally until out of breath.

Now Helmer, now Abby, now Kronner and Raffi,

On Lidstrom, on Mule, on ValFil and Z!

It's time to return to our early-year form,

Where scoring and winning was simply the norm.

Where teams would just quiver in fear of our might,

And we'd have the win at the end of the night.

Consider this notice, rest of the league;

Nothing will stop us, injuries nor fatigue.

We're gunning for whats ours, we're not letting up;

We're going to be raising our twelfth Stanley Cup.

So from Hockeytown, U.S.A., a Christmas message to you:

"Merry Christmas to all, and to all, fuck you too!"

*A quick disclaimer, I started writing this after the Wings had let up their fourth goal and clearly looked like they were very much ready to go the hell home for the holidays. I realize that the overall effort was much better than I've portrayed here and our team really turned it on to end the game - but considering that effort was coming while I was being so overly critical, I decided not to stop.

Merry Christmas, Hockeytown. Here's hoping Santa's being overly harsh to us now because we're getting our present in June.

Getting Happy: The Jiri Hudler Motivational Song

2010-12-16T00:37:00.003-05:00

First... Captain Friggin' Norris just landed us some Curly Fries. That was a cherry on top of the fuck-yeah sundae that we used to cleanse our pallet after that shit-sandwich against LA. Also, Bacon. Mmmm... bacon.

But I digress.

Jiri Hudler's struggle this year has been well documented. Team worst -8, whopping 6 points in 25 games, playing like a floating piece of shit, yadda, yadda, yadda.

Well a couple of weeks ago, I gave some suggestions about how we could get Happy rolling. So far, it doesn't appear that the Wings front office has taken my advice, and not so coincidentally, Happy still isn't lighting the lamp. Sure, he's looked much better since CURLY FRIES WERE VICTORIOUS!! But still, if we want #12 we've got to rely on our depth scoring. Happy needs to be a big part of that equation. As such, we've got to do everything we can to get him back on his game.

Well... don't ever say I'm not doing my part.

Of course I wrote a song. Why the hell not? Everyone knows that the best way to cure a snake-bitten sniper is through the power of song. And poorly sung out of tune song, no less!

Here's the lyrics, if you're so interested:

Getting Happy: The Jiri Hudler Motivational Song

There are those that call him Happy

But he only makes us sad

Left all his talent in Russia

Now he's basically Brett Lebda bad

Babcock thought he'd score 70

But it's looking more like 6

Happy Hudler, oh what to do with you

We're getting desperate for a fix

The coaches have tried it all

Even scratching you name

What the hall are we going to do

To get the skill back in your game

Well..

We could zap him in the dick with a taser

Shoot him with a lazer

Not the kind used by Rahmani

Kick him in the balls

Slam his head against a wall

Mutilate his body

Tie him to a chair, feed him to a bear, leave him there without a prayer while everybody stares

Or promise him stores full of whores when he scores

Or just zap him in the dick

Now you may question these procedures

You may find them a little cruel

You might say why not try something else

Like pairing him with Dats or Mule

But maybe just what young Happy needs

To get back to being our favorite son

Is the constant threat of Paul MacLean

On the bench with a taser gun

So why no, lets give it a chance

You know it just might work

We'll zap some sense back into Jiri Hudler

So he'll stop being such a little fucking jerk

Chorus

You might think I'm being way too harsh

Might say I should tone it down

Well have just one thing to say to you

...

[insert absurd rant here]

Chorus

Update: Download the MP3 version here.

Here's hoping that this little ditty gets Happy back on that horse.

Oh, and I'll take my Grammy by mail, thank you. My life is clearly way too busy to be bothered to attend some ceremony.

Olde Fashioned Politics: Tried, true, two-faced

2010-12-10T18:39:00.001-05:00

It's officially the last day of voting.

I know that you've all been tirelessly parading on down to the polls, casting your vote for Curly Fries. But now is not the time to let the proverbial foot off the pedal. In fact, the waning hours are often the most critical period of an election cycle. Time to up the game.

Now, Wings fans have been doing plenty to make this happen. A team of dedicated demi-gods have been working to sway the vote all over the globe. Votes have poured in from every region of Hockeytown, even the Norwegian and Brazilian sectors. In fact, there have even been some reports that votes have come from such far away and exotic lands as South Dakota. Personally, I don't buy it as I'm still not convinced anyone actually fucking lives there. But still, the point remains. Plenty has been done.

So what else can we do in these final hours of voting, before the announcement is made tomorrow at the Big House?

Well, residing here in Chicago, I've got a few ideas. Now, Detroit does just about everything better than Chicago. It's simple science that we're just better human beings. However, there's one area where we could stand to learn a few tricks from Bandwagon Central.

Dirty, filthy, backdoor, swindling, politics.

I know, Detroit is no stranger to shady dealings. We've had our fair share of garbage politicians who take office for no other reason to knucklefuck an already struggling region for their own personal gain. The difference, though?

Ours suck at it.

Chicago, though a horrendous offender when it comes to bandwagoning, produces some seriously good shady politicians. For some reason in Detroit, our politicians tend to seek bribes that basically amount to a new 32" television and lunch at Lafayette. And then they go to jail for it.

Here in Chicago? I'm pretty sure it's not even legally considered a bribe unless it nets more than what Brian Campbell gets paid each year to cough up spin-o-rama turnovers in the neutral zone. Even then, politicians just don't get convicted here. They know what they're doing when it comes to rigging elections, using the results to their own personal advantage, and walking away flush as Cristobal Huet. Ha, 'member him?

So what lesson can we take from our rivals down Michigan Ave? How about

The Winged Wheel's List of Backdoor Dealings and Shady-Fuck Politics*

Shady-Fuck Idea #1: Stuffing The Box

No, we're not talking about Happy Hudler's Thursday night. We're talking about the classic tactic of inflating the votes to get your way. We've already employed one of the most common Chicago techniques of voting over and over again. However, how many of us have really taken it to the next level? For example, how many corpses have voted for Curly Fries so far?

Now to make this happen, we're going to need some dead people. So, I'd like to officially advocate that everyone out there reading this go grab a spade and march off to your nearest cemetery. Make sure you look for the plots that look like they're freshest. I know it's getting late in the season, so the ground is likely pretty frozen. So, if you have a bad back, I encourage you to just go to the nearest funeral home. This will require much less digging, but some serious cunning in creating a distraction. I'd suggest the tried and true "Hey everyone, look over there!" technique.

After you get your freshly passed body, you'll want to employ a method that scientists call the "Weekend at Bernie's Technique." Make sure to throw some sunglasses on that bad lad and tie some strings to his extremities. You'll then want to build some kind of device to manipulate your new corpse like a puppet to continuously refresh the voting page, and cast a vote for curly fries.

I know what you're thinking... this is a a great idea! You're god damn right is. Now go desecrate a dead human body.

Shady-Fuck Idea #2: Intimidation

Another method employed in the past by Chicago politicians is good ol fashioned voter intimidation. As many Chicago gangs have learned, nothing helps motivate voters like a gun in the face. Well, now that people can vote from the comfort of their own homes this job is even easier. You don't have to drag anyone to an inconvenient polling place. Rather, you can just go from home to home, kicking doors off their hinges and threatening the safety of people's children during dinner time.

Also, feel free to get creative. It may be enough to simply warn your neighbors that you'll sell your house to Todd Bertuzzi if Curly Fries doesn't win. The sheer fear of having their children grow up next to a man who engages in live-human sacrifice on his roof may terrorize them onto our side.

Shady-Fuck Idea #3: Extortion

So long as all this hard work pays off, we're going to find ourselves on the winning side here. And that's a nice place to be. But we shouldn't be content with simply winning and moving on. We should take a page out of Chicago's book and make sure we use our victory to our advantage.

You see, winning an election puts you in a serious position of power. You have influence and authority, and it's fucking golden, and, uh, uh, you aren't just giving it up for fuckin' nothing. Right?

How to Save on Helmet Costs

Once Curly Friest emerges victorious, use the victory to your advantage. First, stop paying for things. If you see something that you want, just take it. If, for some absurd reason, the storekeeper has a problem with this, just calmly explain about how you are a game-changer. I'm sure they'll understand and gladly give you whatever you'd like to get in your good favor. If you're having a difficult time at work, fire your boss. Just march right in and tell him how its just not working out and he'll need to pack his shit and get our of your new office. Don't just let your newfound position of influence fall to waste. Use it to your advantage.

We're in the last legs here folks. Viva Curly Fries! Viva las Alas Rojas! Viva la resistance!

Habs tonight. Go Wings!

*The Winged Wheel takes no responsibility for any negative side-effects of you being a fucking idiot and taking even one tiny bit of our advice.

Getting Strategic: Operation Curly Fries gets Anderson Coopered

2010-12-04T15:05:00.007-05:00

Look, absurd rhetoric and manipulative imagery are all well and good. They're the true building blocks to any successful campaign. But if you're really serious about winning... you've gotta crunch the numbers.

Before us stands one of the more important showdowns in the history of man. As such, taking this lightly would be a mistake. A serious mistake. Like, paying-Brett-Lebda-$1.5 million serious.

We've all seen the 24-hour news channels during election cycles. They've all got their fancy screens and their high-paid analysts, and their Wolf Blitzers. All of this has a reason beyond annoying the piss out of everyone. These devices are employed to predict the outcomes of these really not that important elections.

So why the hell wouldn't we do the same with something that actually matters?

Introducing:

The Operation Curly Fries Electoral Map

Click for Larger Image

Sure, this map is a bit more complicated than the standard Red and Blue maps that you might see out of CNN. Some would say those maps are much easier to read and are therefore drastically more useful. I say CNN is a bunch of pussies. We're Wings fans. We do this shit right.

But, I'm sure even the greatest fanbase of the greatest franchise in history probably needs a legend to go along with this scientific thunderfuck of a game-changing prediction machine. Here it is:

Alaska, Oregon, Montana, Wyoming, North Dakota, South Dakota, Kansas, Oklahoma, Arkansas, West Virginia, Vermont, New Hampshire, Maine

These states are all represented by question marks. You might think that this means that their allegiance to either Curly Fries of Jr. Roast Beef is undetermined. You would be wrong as Brian Burke when he signed Brett Lebda to a $1.5 million contract.

There's no way I'm gonna put together a map of this magnitude and not come to a determination within a precise degree of scientific certainty for every state on the map. These states are only marked with question marks because I'm pretty sure nobody actually lives there.

I mean really... New Hampshire? That doesn't even sound real. I haven't even heard of an Old Hampshire so where the hell does this state get off? And really, have you ever met anyone who said they were from South Dakota? Even if you have, I bet you had a sneaking feeling that they were fucking liars. I'm confident that these states are just highways and empty space. Therefore, no need deciding their allegiance to happiness and joy or Roast Beef.

Idaho

Idaho, for obvious reasons, is indicated by potatoes. These people fucking love potatoes. Their economy runs on the stuff and most residents actually have altars made of hash browns in their homes. Now, I'm no Iron Chef, but I'm pretty sure one of the ingredients in curly fries is potatoes.

Determining the allegiance in this state is pretty easy. What are these tuber-worshiping potato maniacs more likely to choose? Roast Beef, a decidedly non-tuberous dish? I think not. Hell, if America's Roast Beef Yes Sir stops giving away these delicious treats, Idaho's potato-driven economy is in danger of complete collapse. Chalk this state up as a win for America.

Nebraska

Like Idaho, Nebraska has a one-dimensional vegetable-based economy. Also, I'm pretty sure potatoes and corn are pretty much the same thing. Therefore, the above reasoning fits here, and we're calling this a win.

Wisconsin

Again, this is food based. Wisconsinians... err, Wisconsinites... uh, Wisconese?? Fucking people from Wisconsin are all about cheese. This one is going in our favor. You see, this choice is between Curly Fries, and a Jr. Roast Beef sandwich. Not a Jr. Roast Beef n' Cheddar sandwich. These people should turn out in hordes to vote for curly fries after America's Roast Beef Yes Sir snubbed their holy cheese gods.

Nevada

Don't worry about it, these people are WAY too high on cocaine to vote.

Utah

Represented here by South Park's rendering of Joseph Smith, Utah is overwhelmingly dominated by the Mormon vote. This is where the family values aspect of our campaign will come in handy. Actually, who the hell are we kidding? There's no way our group of degenerates and come across as the wholesome choice in this election. I'm afraid that this one is going to be lost to the Mormons. Dum dum dum dum dum.

New Mexico

I'm not convinced this is state actually has the right to vote. I'll provide an analysis when they decide to join the union.

Kentucky, Virginia, Tennessee, North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana

Oh right, like these inbreds are going to take time away from watching NASCAR and beating their wives to get on them newfangled interweb machines to vote.

Maryland, Delaware, New Jersey, Connecticut, Rhode Island, Massachusetts

Still England.

Ohio

Ohio... is terrible.

Indiana

So is Indiana. Crossroads of America, eh? Even their state motto admits it's just the place people go to get somewhere else. Who gives a shit about how these two hellholes vote?

Colorado, Missouri, Minnesota, Pennsylvania

These aren't going well for us... This is what political scientists refer to as the "spite vote." It refers to a phenomenon wherein an electorate has been so humiliated for so long that they're now completely empty inside - devoid of all value as human beings.

Each of these states are represented on this map by different images (Vagisil for Dive fans, a sobbing little bitch of a baby for the Bitter Bitch Blues fans, Pinky for Minnesota, and pink Tu-Tu's for Thid Rosby's state of Pennsylvania). However, they'll all probably vote Roast Beef for the same reason - they've been picked on by the vastly superior Red Wings for long enough that they're dead inside. No worries, you win some, you lose some.

Washington, Texas, New York

Speaking of win some. These are going Curly Fry. Why? Well, remember when I said the guys at TPL get shit done?

Fucking listen next time.

Each of these states contains a member of the trifecta. You think they're going to let this shit go to the Roast Beef? I think not.

Hawaii

The Chief from over at A2Y is currently on a ship with a bunch of weapons in the Pacific. If for no other reason, these fuckers are voting Curly Fries out of fear. A well justified fear.

California, Arizona

We've all seen the Wings play in Phoenix and the California markets. Hell, just last night they faced off against the Ducks and perennial World's Douchiest Bag winner Corey Perry. The chants for the Wings drowned out the California crowd. That's because if you're a hockey fan, and you live in these states... you're not from there. These markets are full of transplanted Wings fans, and they'll deliver the vote for Curly Fries.

Florida

Two words: The Captain.

Illinois

They may be begrudging, but these fuckers are voting curly fries if I have to climb in their windows and snatch all their peoples up myself.

Michigan

And this, this is where the science is. You see, it really doesn't matter how all these other states cast their ballots. When it comes down to it, theres only one state that counts. Motor City, Motown, the D. Hockeytown is going to come out in spades for Curly Fries because they're good people. The region is full of dedicated hockey fanatics who - unlike the little bitches in Denver, or the bandwagoners in Chicago - know the value of a storied tradition. Hearing Mickey shout "Curly Fries!" is an integral aspect of the Red Wing experience. Like Budd Lynch's calming voice over the intercom, hearing Stompin' Tom Connors after a Wings victory, pissing in a trough, shoulder-to-shoulder with grown ass drunk men - Curly Fries just come with the territory. There's no way the blue collar heroes from the Motor City are going to let us down.

Curly Fries will return. They'll be here to stay. And, you know, if they don't we get to riot and fill the streets with the blood of the plutocrats. So that's pretty cool too.

Now go vote and prove me right.

Oz fights for #399 tonight in L.A. Lets Go Wings!

Get the Vote Out: Seriously P. Diddy Puff Dogg will mess you UP

2010-12-03T02:17:00.002-05:00

So, I'm not sure if you are aware of this or not, but the guys at The Production Line get shit done.

They're movers. Shakers. Emperors among minions. When they speak, people listen. When they shout, people cower. They're remarkably above average in both length and girth.

They're some swell fellas.

I'm not just saying this because they were so kind this week on TP:60. No, the guys over at TPL have launched a campaign recently to right a wrong. You see, many people with the power and influence that these true American Heros have would use it for their own benefit. Not TPL. They've unleashed a groundswell of support from Red Wings fans to correct an injustice. An unyielding sea of principled revolutionaries demanding that their voices be heard. Rising as one, with a clear message, unwavering and proud:

Bring back the curly fries, bitch.

That's right. Recently, America's Roast Beef Yes Sir made the tragically un-American decision to no longer offer the storied Curly Fry after a Red Wings hat trick. Rather, the restaurant decided to offer the Jr. Roast Beef sandwich in its stead.

Now, I'm sure that America's Roast Beef Yes Sir had no ill intent in this haneous decision. In fact, I presume the good folks at America's Roast Beef Yes Sir acted in good faith, thinking a mouth full of delicious meat would please us greatly.

Well, America's Roast Beef Yes Sir, you were mistaken.

Luckily, we've got the guys at TPL to lead the charge to right this wrong. Recognizing that the free curly fry stands for all that is Red Wings Hockey, they've taken the flag and charged full speed ahead. Lo and behold, their efforts have been rewarded.

After getting some serious press, the movement has been successful in convincing America's Roast Beef Yes Sir to consider a return to justice. A poll has been posted at Fox Sports Detroit's website, wherein fans are encouraged to vote for their preference - freedom, truth and justice, or some soggy roast beef.

Vote early. Vote often. Vote Curly Fries.

Now, apparently, there are some people out there who aren't as convinced. Well, let the politicking begin.

Elections are as much a part of the fabric of our history as apple pie and smut. In fact, we've just been through a relatively harrowing election season here in the States, where we were constantly bombarded by ad after ad, pimping various candidates for office. This election is no less important, so why shouldn't it get similar treatment?

Curly Fries, consider me your Karl Rove.

Bumper stickers. Tee Shirts. Lawn signs.

...are all things I would print this on if there were time between now and the 10th, when voting ends.

This is a classic election campaign sign. It appeals to all of the great motivating values in our society. Also, if you really look closely, it's subliminal. I bet you didn't notice that adorable little puppy back there, subliminally tugging on the cockles of your heart and manipulating your every thought and emotion.

But this is 'Merica. Everyone knows you can't win on a stong positive message alone. If you want to win an election in 21st century 'Merica, you gotsta go negative.

Let's start light.

Turns out that for the most part, people really dislike things that they think would make Jesus sad. Generally included in that group of things are the dark arts. This ad simply points out the OBVIOUS correlation between roast beef and a Satanic devotion to Witchcraft. I'm sure I don't need to point it out to you how obviously related the two are. Only someone who hates 'Merica would have a hard time seeing it.

But you know, this type of campaign is new to the political scene. While it's had some success, it's not usually a great idea to put all your eggs in one basket.

Which brings me to a really solid question that should blow your minds. Where is roast beef even from?

I've done extensive research on this issue. That is, I've taken a few moments to peruse the Wikipedia page on roast beef. And you know what I found there?

Not once, on the whole page does it explicitly say that the roast beef sandwich did not originate in Kenya.

Until Arby's Jr. Roast Beef sandwich can definitively come forth and prove, once and for all, that it was not first conceived of in Kenya, I think it's pretty safe to assume - nay, conclude - that Kenya is it's birthplace. Can you really cast a vote for a Kenyan sandwich over curly fries that taste like freedom?

This is a matter of utter importance. As a result, we cannot take this election lightly. We must pull out all the stops and leave it all on the campaign trail. We cannot look back and think "if only." So, in that spirit, it's time to go nuclear.

That right there, my friends, is the right bauer of political ads.

Now get your ass out there and vote.

TP:60 Ep#7: Wherein hockey is discussed and shenanigans are had

2010-12-02T16:00:00.001-05:00

I had the honor and privilege to hop on TP:60 with the fellas from TPL and Kris from Snipe Snipe, Dangle Dangle the other evening. It was quite the experience, involving a little bit of hockey talk, and a whole lot of immaturity and general tomfoolery. As I'm sure nobody who reads this blog is a little bitch, you're all aware of the genius that comes out of TP:60 each week, so I need not remind you. However, in the event you need such an absurd reminder, go listen to that shit. They do a helluva job.

You can find this week's episode here, or you can download it through the iTunes.

Now go have an eargasm.

Not So Happy: How to turn that frown upside-down

2010-12-01T14:30:00.004-05:00

Pace? Full speed.
Direction? Ahead.
Cylinders? Firing. All of 'em.

Well... mostly all. The Wings are currently best in the West. In the last 22 games, our team is rocking only 6 losses, 2 of which carry the charity point as they occurred in extra time. That's fewest losses league-wide. As a Wings fan, there ain't much to bitch about right now.

Oh, like that's gonna stop us.

There's a few points that we'd like to see improve from our beloved team. It'd be nice to know that we can maintain this pace while giving Super Jimmah some rest now and again so that he's not all tuckered out by the time the playoffs roll around. At times our defense seems a bit too confident in Jimmah's ability to stop pucks and lets too many shots from the slot. Brett Lebda keeps fucking up, totally underperforming and coughing up ridiculous turnovers in the neutral zone.

Oh, shit. Sorry... reflex.

All these things aren't really that concerning in the end. They'll be worked on and we can have utter faith in the best coach in the business to make them happen. There is one issue that's causing some consternation, however. I'll give you a hint:

It rhymes with "Bliri Hulder is being a fucking douchebag."

So far Happy Hudler has 6 whole points this season. That's right, he's on an absolutely scorching 22 point pace. Hey, that means we're only paying the little bastard $130,681 for every point he manages to notch on the scoresheet. What a deal!

Happy's the type of player that tends to go on streaks as it is. So, hey, maybe there's some hope here that he's not going to Leino us in the assholes for the rest of the year. There's still a shot the little bastard can turn it around and stop being a giant piece of shit. So far, Babs has tried a lot to get that to happen. He's played with the lines, trying to spark something inside his bruised Czech psyche. He's given the guy power play time. He's put him in the press box. So far, nothing has really sparked his game.

Time to get creative.

And thus was born:

The Winged Wheel's List of Shit to Make Jiri Hudler Stop Being a Douchebag

Awesome Fucking Idea #1: Hire San Jose Statisticians

About 10 minutes into the first period yesterday in the beatdown of the Sharks, the San Jose announcers gave us an interesting stat. At that point, the Red Wings were up 2-1, but were being outshot 15-4.

In related news, streets in San Jose are paved with gumdrops and everyone rides unicorns to get to the free-hooker store.

The point being, the stat guys at HP Pavilion Arena are - to put it lightly - fucking high as a kite. There's just no way at that point that the Sharks had put that many shots on goal. But hey, why not use this to our advantage?

Babs has worked hard to try and motivate Happy and he appears to be pretty seriously snake-bitten. Well, why not inflate his litte ego a bit, alleviating some of that mental stress? Hire the San Jose statisticians to watch Jiri's game. At the very least, it will make us fans feel a bit better about the turdburger he leaves on the ice every game. Sure... Jiri didn't score... or get an assist... and had 4 turnovers... but hey, he had 98 shots on goal and 146 hits! That's a helluva start.

Awesome Fucking Idea #2: Duct Tape

I'm a firm believer that just about any problem in the world can be solved with either a) Booze, or b) Duct Tape. Considering we've witnessed what the former does to Mr. Hudler...

...it's probably better that we work with the latter.

Now, look. I'm not a scientist. I don't have an advanced degree in engineering and I'm not intimately aware of the complex physics involved in the various aspects of the sport. So I'm not here to say how duct tape is going to fix Happy's game. I'm just saying that it definitely will. I'll leave the implementation to the big-wigs and experts. Maybe they'll duct tape a rabid wolverine to Happy's ass causing him to skate with a bit more hustle and urgency. Maybe they'll duct tape Happy to Datsyuk, or Zetterberg, or Cleary so that he'll have to follow them around all day, learning what it's like to not be a fuckwad. Or perhaps they'll just use it to seal up his sphincter so he'll stop shitting all over the ice. I don't know how it'll work - I just know that it absolutely will.

Awesome Fucking Idea #3: Temporarily Trade Him to the Philadelphia Flyers

I'm not sure if Philly would be willing to throw us a bone here on this one, but why not? They hate the Penguins... we hate the Penguins! We hate the Blackhawks... they hate the Blackhawks! It's like the old adage says: the enemy of my enemy and my other enemy should do me favors.

Lets recall the case of Ville Leino. I know... it hurts. It brings up a lot of bottled up rage from watching that floating pile of wet dong take up a roster space all year. However, as soon as we dealt him away for table scraps, he decided to remember that he was an NHL player and he started scoring at a pretty decent pace. After he was traded and hit the playoffs with the Flyers, Ville racked up 21 points in 19 playoff games. This year, he's got 19 points in 25 games for the Flyers. Considering he had just 11 points in 55 games last year - that's a pretty dramatic improvement.

So lets set something up with our pals in Philly. We'll trade Jiri to the city of brotherly love until he decides to start scoring at some absurd pace, and then they'll trade him right back. What's in it for Philly, you ask? Well they get to help out the best franchise in sports! I'm sure they'll agree with that fact and be plenty happy just lending us a helping hand. Then, when all is said and done, we can go back to fucking hating Daniel Carcillo and the rest of his band of goony fuckwads.

Awesome Fucking Idea #4: Simulate Russia

Jiri wasn't always a stack of smegma. In fact, just last year he put up 54 points in as many games with Dynamo Moscow of the KHL. I'm not mathematician, but I'm pretty sure that's a point-per-game pace. If only we could get Happy back to that place.

Now there are many variables that go into a player's successes and failures. So lets make sure we cover every base we can. First, we have to let Happy know that the Wings full staff of trainers and highly qualified medical professionals will no longer be available to him. Instead, if he ends up injured we'll just have some guy named Ivan come rub dirt on it. If that doesn't work, he'll be dragged off the rink and shot. Also, we'll be sure to hire a group of pale, depressed, alcoholics to surround him at all times. He'll only be allowed to hang out in a frozen uninhabitable hellscape. We'll take 1/3 of the parts out of his car, and make him eat nothing but borscht. That's what those people eat, right? Also, I think there's dragons there or something. So lets get some of those.

Awesome Fucking Idea #5: Dick Punches

This one's simple. As a last ditch resort, every time Jiri finishes a shift without scoring, we have Paul MacLean punch him in the dick. I pick MacLean solely because of his moustache. A moustache like that says some things about a person. It says they have a strong affinity for bacon and other smoked meats. It says they can fell mighty trees with no more than two swings of a dull axe. It says they have dogs, but they aren't allowed on the couch. It also indicates that the wearer of such a 'stache is probably an outstanding dick-puncher.

We all know how much Happy likes to use his dick. His track record of consorting with nefarious women and filthy Czech whores is well documented. Perhaps if his equipment were in constant danger he'd do more than just stand around with it in his hand.

We can only hope.

Turn it around Happy... or you're going to have a new nickname. "Bruised and Swollen Love-Pump Hudler" just doesn't have the same ring to it.

Be Thankful: Honest Abe's first choice was the last Tuesday in November

2010-11-30T17:57:00.002-05:00

One of the fun things about being a horrendous procrastinator is that often, you tend to miss deadlines. Enough so that you get rather used to it. In that spirit, lets talk about Thanksgiving.

Each year, Thanksgiving is the time to sit back, watch your football team embarrass itself, shove absurd amounts of food in your face, and pass out in your own drool. It really is a beautiful holiday. It's also the time of year where the Greatest Minds in Hockey take a look at their team and feel that they can give it an accurate assessment.

This year, there's plenty to be thankful for.

After having played fewer games than any other team in the West, we sit atop the conference in standings. We have a league best Win % and we seem to be doing just friggin' dandy. While there's a long season ahead of us, a great start is always helpful. As I'm sure we all recall from the Year of Aurie, it's no fun looking up the standings. It's a helluva lot better sitting at the apex, looking down, swatting away any pesky would-be contenders. We're used to that. We're good at that.

But our team's record isn't the only thing to be thankful about this holiday season. So lets take a second to present to you:

The Winged Wheel's List of Shit to be Fucking Thankful For, Damnit.

Put that on a Hallmark card. Here we go.

Ken Daniels and Mickey Redmond

Recently, a highly-funded think tank of scientists and MENSA elites conducted a study of all professional sports announcers (and Matt Millen), and came to a determination to an absolute degree of scientific certainty - Ken Daniels and Mickey Redmond are the best in the business.

Now, don't bother trying to make any argument that absolutely anyone who has ever said words into a televised program's microphone is any better than these two gods among men. It's science. From Ken's excited shouts and compelling play-by-play, to Mick's hilarious-crazy-drunk-grandpa-esque color commentary, I wouldn't rather listen to any other pair describing the greatest team play the greatest sport on the planet.

Being Proven Wrong All The Damn Time

Ok, bear with me on this one. Last year, early in the season, I rabble rabble rabbled all over the place about how Jimmy Howard was not an NHL goaltender. Those rebounds! He's inconsistent! Terrible positioning! Go sign Dan Cloutier!

Whoops.

This year, Bertuzzi signs a contract. Fuck that! He's a liability! He passes to nobody! He takes lazy penalties and scores inconsistently! He can't play defense and the Joe is way too close to the DMC's maternity ward to employ a guy who eats babies!

Sigh.

Turns out, I don't know shit about fuck. And I'm way OK with that. The fact that Bert, admittedly, is playing real good 2-way hockey and seems to be earning his paycheck does two things. 1) It makes me look like a moron, and 2) it gets me half-mast. I'll be the first to admit that my ability to comprehend things is generally laughable. I'm more than willing to throw my dignity to the wolves in the interest of a team that's clicking on all lines. Bert, I'll keep wishing you off the team while you keep making a fool of me. That'll be just fine.

Hometown Discounts.

Cough, Jimmy, cough.

/subtlehint.

Budd Lynch and the Joe

There's just something about walking into the Joe and having it slap you in the face with old-time hockey. The concourses are littered with Red Wings statutes, portraits, and memorabilia. The seats are arranged for one purpose - to watch hockey. The banners in the rafters - and there are banners - all pay homage to the great history of this team. There's no friggin' inflatable mascots running around making balloon animals for those uninterested in paying attention to the product on the ice. There's no gimmicky laser-light shows celebrating every regular season game like it's game 7 of the cup finals. The seats are filled with knowledgeable fans who cheer their asses off, giving the place one hell of an atmostphere. It's just pure hockey.

And you know, theres part of the Joe that is often overlooked. There's something about Budd Lynch's voice over the loudspeakers that just shouts hockey. It's no douchey guy shouting everything in some annoying shrill. Tell me this: Is there any sweeter sound in the history of sounds than Budd saying "One minute remaining in the third peroid" while the Wings are protecting a lead? We've got a 93-year-old gem in Budd. Just another reason why the Wings are the greatest franchise in sports.

Marty Turco and His Merry Band of Shitbirds

Thanksgiving is a holiday that part and parcel deals with the mistreatment and genocide of indigenous people. So what kind of Thanksgiving list would be complete without spending some time picking on the team that uses that absurdly racist caricature for a mascot?

The Hawks happen to be sitting 4 points behind us right now. Oh yeah, and we have 5 games in hand. They're currently rocking a .500 record, and Marian Hossa just went down for 2-3 weeks. In other words, 1/4 of their NHL forwards will not be taking the ice for a while. Sure, last year the Wings weren't in dramatically better position than the Hawks are now. But recall, last year our team was knucklefucked up and down with injuries. The Hawks?

They just have a shitty roster.

As the season goes on, the injuries will occur. It happens across the league. It's just a fact of the game. As that happens with the Hawks, their amazing lack of depth will catch up with them and they'll do even worse.

And that, my friends, is something to be thankful for.

Wings have the Sharks tonight for the first time since playing a whole series on the PK. Unfortunately, Nabokov's in Mother Russia so we don't get to pick on him. Make this one hurt them. Light that shit up.

Lets. Go. Red. Wings.

Getting Over the Hiccups: Just hold your breath and light the lamp

2010-11-22T16:03:00.001-05:00

Last year was a major boot in the ass.

It was a bit less than fun. The trainers table was chuck full of Larry Aurie's victims, we were stuck looking up the standings at teams we traditionally enjoyed pissing on, and that whole "winning" thing that we'd become so accustomed to over the previous two decades, yeah that wasn't really happening that often.

Turns out, thankfully, it appears that was a bit of a hiccup.

Hell, I'm never satisfied with a season that doesn't end in a parade down Woodward and a bunch of drunken heroes hoisting 35 pounds of glory in Hart Plaza. But the shitshow that was last year has some bright sides. Among them, is the appreciation we get to have for this year's performance.

This was particularly clear yesterday at the midpoint of the showdown against Calgary. We had just come off an OT loss to the Wild (really? the Wild?) and our performance didn't seem to indicate that we were going to overcome the two goal deficit we were facing any time soon. We all felt it then. "Ah fuck... two in a row?? That's just a pile of horsecock."

Almost immediately after that thought though? A little bit of relief. Recall how late in the season it was last year when we could finally say we've strung together a few wins in a row. It really wasn't that odd to be facing a 2 game loosing streak during the Year of Aurie. Personally, it brought a smile to my face yesterday when I considered how the prospect of a 2 game drought could bring such frustration as being out of the ordinary.

And then Pavel Datsyuk slapped that smile right off my face.

He decided I was being a little bitch, and that I should know better than to ever give up on this team. Not with half the game left - not with 10 seconds left. Just as we were all ready to click off our sets, sigh, and start the mourning process (piss warm PBR and a fist full of Rufilin) Pasha was busy reminding us that last year wasn't a paradigm shift - it was a fucking hiccup. A blip. An asterisk year in an otherwise dominant two decades of hockey. This year? This year it doesn't matter how shitty the team's played throughout the first 59:50. All they really need are those 10 seconds.

Just when almost everyone decided the game was over, Pasha decided he wanted to play a bit longer. He dangled through three defenders and fed a perfect pass to his Eurotwin, giving Z the opportunity to bury it home with 3 seconds left in regulation. Minutes later, in OT, The Perfect Human secured yet another notch in the ever expanding 2010 win column with a beauty.

Why break almost a month of lethargic silence here just to recap a game? To me, this game so far is the season in a nutshell.

That's not to say that the game itself is a good indication of the level of play at which the Wings have been playing this year. Hell, it was one of their worst efforts thus far for an overwhelming majority of the game. Rather, it's a good example of exactly where the Wings are at right now. They didn't play to their full potential, but still pulled out the big win.

That to me, is where we're at right now and it's got me as excited as a Hawks fan hearing about $16 dollar specials on cosmos at John Barleycorn. We're currently proud owners of the best win % in the entire league. We're atop the West in points, despite having several games in hand on many of the teams below us. And considering all that? We aren't even performing our best. The Wings are #1 and still have lots of room for improvement. That's an OK place to be.

Just consider how dominant this team is going to be when Happy sacks up and starts lighting the lamp. Or when Mikey Mo finally settles in fully and starts lighting it up. Or when Babs settles on his lines and gets everyone going at once. The depth in this team is evident. We've won almost every gave we've played and in not one of those wins has every line played to its fullest. That bodes well for the future.

Speaking of which, we're rolling in on Thanksgiving. That's usually the mark where Holland and Co. feel its appropriate to really assess where this team is at. Now, I'm no Ken Holland... but I'm thinking "First" is an OK place to be sitting right about now.

Lets keep it up. Skate to throat; all the way through till Spring.

Defending The Wizzard: Short, sweet, and to the point

2010-10-28T17:49:00.000-04:00

You know, 140 characters just isn't enough. The twitters are abuzz with twits and twoots about the latest twitroversy over our goaltending twandum. (God damn kids and their lousy skateboards and rap musics...). I've certainly thrown in my two cents to the debate. And, in true Winged Wheel style, I've added an additional bucket full of wheat pennies and fuck words. But to sum it all up, 140 characters doesn't do it justice.

So, before I run off to practice, I want to just make a few things clear. I'm an unapologetic Ozzie apologist. Obviously. Anyone who's had a discussion with me on the topic can tell you as much. But that doesn't mean that I think the guy is the unholy offspring of Marty Brodeur and Terry Sawchuck. He's a Hockeytown staple, and a team guy. He's taken pay cuts to play here, and given us a pretty damn good career. He's got a damn fine trophy case, and I don't give a shit what anyone says, he's HOF material.

I recognize that Oz has struggled of late. Even I can't say that I've been wholly satisfied with his performance. But the Ozzie bashing seems to have a pretty huge blindspot. Before we all get all riled up, proclaiming that Ozzie's just not an NHL goaltender anymore, and that he needs to just take his 35+ contract and retire, leaving us with both his cap hit and Joey "so, you're saying I should stop the shiny round black thing?" MacDonald, lets think about what we're basing this on.

Sure, last year was damn pathetic. Ozzie didn't perform well. At all. But before we go throwing him under the bus, saying that this is a clear sign that he'll never be good again, at least consider the circumstances. Dude was getting starts so few and far between, that I doubt even Mr. Sawchuck himself could have managed to put up great numbers. While Ozzie's play didn't earn him much more than that, it's still hard to discount him as a player all together based on that season.

But hey! We're not just basing our hatred of the guy on one season. His 08-09 performance was abysmal as well.

Tell ya what. If I were to offer you a deal right now. Where I'd promise you a goaltender that keeps us competitive, wins us 26 games and looses only 9, and takes us all the way to game 7 of the Stanley Cup finals boasting a league best playoff performance, and I tell you all it's going to cost you is $1.4 million... would you take it?

The point is, it's not that long ago that Ozzie was able to put together some real strong performances. It's not that long ago that he was backstopping our team all the way to the end. It's not that long ago that the guy proved that he's still got it as an NHL goaltender. And he doesn't cost that much.

Ozzie's not the starter. The way Howard is showing up, I doubt he ever will be again. Sure, his best days are likely behind him - but he's not the throwaway that some claim him to be. I still believe that he's got some NHL in him, and that he can be one hell of a backup for us. Lets just give him the chance.

I'm not sold that he'll always be our best option in net. Nor and I particularly confident that he'll return to 07-08 form. But I've got faith in the Wizzard, that he's still got that talent and ability. That this is truly a mental issue, and like the blue collar trueblood Hockeytown sonofabitch that he is, he'll work through it. Till then, I'll still be here in his corner. Waiting and hoping. That's what a true fan does. You don't have to think he's going to win the Vezina... but you damn well not turn your back on him. When he gets the call, you damn well better root for him to stop the pucks, and not just sit with your thumb up your ass, hoping for the other team to light the lamp because you want to feel smarter than everyone else. Getting behind your team means getting behind your 3 ring goaltender when he gets the call.

You don't need to have confidence. You just need to have hope.

You know, or this:

Ozzie gets the call tonight. Personally, I'll be rooting for the Wings. I'll be rooting for the Wizzard.

Chicago: (Where the wind) Blows Hard

2010-10-27T16:12:00.004-04:00

Hot damn I've been busy lately. Hence the whole not commenting on hockey thing.

But this was too good to pass up.

First, a hearty stick tap to the Wings. 5 wins, one charity point, and one regulation loss. That's a far cry from our start to the 2009-2010 season. Sure, so far our play has been far from perfect. We still need to get that third line to show up and start clicking, and we've had some defensive problems COUGHdougjanikCOUGH. But you know... I'm gonna go ahead and take that as a good thing.

The fact is, we're near the top of the league in points earned so far, and we've got plenty of room for improvement. On top of that, we've got the best coach in the game; a guy who has proven he has the ability to make that improvement happen. He's not working alone, either. He's got two good friends: talent, and depth.

It sure would be tough to back a team that didn't have all that awesome-sauce going for them.

Enter stage left: Racist caricature representing your favorite divisional punching bag.

Oh yes. Sure, Chicago has managed to put together the same 11 points the Wings have in the standings. Of course, they did so with an extra three games. And the best part, is that, unlike the Wings, they've been pretty much performing as good or better than you could reasonably expect. Hossa and Sharp have been on FIRE. That's not the kind of thing that will generally last an entire season. Also - and bear in mind, this is all hearsay - apparently, Marty Turco made a couple of saves over the past 10 games. That's not standard, and isn't likely to keep up.

Now, I didn't come out of hiding under a pile of responsibility to point out that the Hawks have had a mediocre start. That's not a surprise. No, I'm here today because the Winged Wheel has obtained another beautiful piece of information to throw on the giant pile of suck that is the Chicago Blackhawks franchise. And this time, unlike so many times in the past, this is all legit. No fabrication or photoshop necessary.

Guess who's a Blackhawks fan?

Surprise!

Now look, this isn't a political blog. I - much like the above pictured stack of rancid smegma - have no interest in talking about anything of substance. I'm not here to talk policy, philosophy, or the relative worth of melting down your jewelry and investing in underground bunkers. But really, whatever your politics, I have a firm longstanding belief that the amount of analogies about Nazis you make is inversely proportional to your worth as a human being.

Am I surprised that the world's biggest piece of shit waste of functional human organs happens to cheer for the league's biggest piece of shit waste of a functional sheet of ice? Nope. Am I amused?

Yer darn tootin'.

Now, I should be fair. While compelling, this is not conclusive proof that the antichrist is a Blackhawks fan. The above picture comes from an advertisement in which Glenn Beck talks about the impending apocalypse - surely brought about by black, gay muslims. Perhaps he's sporting his Hawks hat as a fitting metaphoric reminder of what happens when something is so poorly managed that it collapses in on itself, bringing it to such a state of catastrophe that it can never return to normal. Perhaps Mr. Beck decided that his "Rome is Burning" message is better punctuated with a reminder of a complete and utter apocalyptic collapse.

Or perhaps Glenn just wants us all to know that when he wants to relax on a Saturday night after a long day of drowning puppies and punching nuns for being poor, he kicks back with an ice cold goblet of dolphin blood and watches a true American hero from Buffalo take the ice.

Either way - Fuck Chicago. Fuck them in their shiny purple asses.

P.S. I promise I'll get back to writing about the Wings soon... these damn breaks between games are making it rather tough to invent compelling storylines for which I can photoshop juvenile images and gratuitously spew the fuck word.

Go Wings.

Spoiling The Party: Don't worry, maybe you'll get another shot in 50 years

2010-10-10T14:48:00.003-04:00

The Pomp.

The Circumstance.

The Boredom.

It's amazing the Blackhawks still can't manage to make a buck, and are solidly in the red as an organization. Because really, they know how to fire up a crowd with an explosive, exciting, and exhilarating party. For their Banner Raising ceremony last night, they followed a classic formula:

First, start with the music. Pick an artist. A band known to create fast paced, fist-pumping music. You know, the type of band you'd hear on Jock Jams 4. Sure, how about U2!
Ok, now find the slowest song in that artist's catalogue. This will really build the anticipation, letting the crowd know, something big is to come. Just spitballing here, but "With or Without You" seems apropos.
Now - and this is important - remove the vocals. That's right, this is going to be an instrumental rock fest. You know what though? Guitars just aren't explosive enough. I mean, who's ever heard a guitar and thought, "fuck yeah, lets play some hockey!" So, remove the original track, and have the whole song performed instrumentally by a string quartet. Nothing says "party like a motherfucking rock star" like some strings.
You should make your ceremony as much like a funeral as possible. The slow, somber music reminiscing about waiting for someone who is gone. Dim the lights and create a dark atmosphere. If there's a banner involved, be sure to have people carry it slowly like pallbearers.
Many people make the classic mistake of being concise and making their ceremony short and sweet. Don't fucking do that. Drag that bitch out. In fact, make it last about 175% longer than anyone could possibly expect. The key here is slow, and long.

And boy howdy did they deliver.

Based on their selection, I figure they spent a long time struggling between the song they chose, and that shitty Celine Dion song from Titanic. I have to say, though. "With or Without You" was particularly fitting. As in, "sorry 80% of our Stanely Cup winning roster, but we've gotta raise this banner With, or Without You. Well, I guess just without you. Enjoy sunny GA."

Now folks, it wasn't just the absolute fucking monotony of it that made it tough to watch. The Hawks have been division rivals for years. A fellow member of the class of 1926, the Wings and Hawks have been clashing for over eight decades. Throughout that time, the Wings have pretty much always had the upper hand. And though that really hasn't changed, those bastards adorning the absurdly racist characature took what is rightfully ours. They managed to squeak out their first championship in 49 years.

And we had to watch them solidify it. We were there, as they placed that banner in the rafters of the United Center, along with many, many others. Of course, those other banners almost all belonged to the Bulls, but still. It was tough to watch.

Folks, I'm not one to subject you to horrific imagery. Some blogs may attempt to get press by showing shocking images of grotesque and terrifying scenes. Not me. I like to protect your precious eyes from such abominations. Example?

The last thing I'd want to show you is some mutton chopped son of a bitch undeservedly adorning The Captain's storied 19 lifting our Chalice. So, instead, you'd get an image like this:

I know, some of you may find that this is still too close. This image still leaves you to imagine what could be behind that censored bar like a fourteen year old discovering himself while watching Girls Gone Wild infomercials at 1 in the morning in his parent's basement. So, there's a solution for that too:

See? That's not dangerous. The imagination isn't going to fill in something traumatic because of the excellent backstory. In the previous picture, you're likely to think, "hey wait a tick, he sure seems happy, and he's holding something over his head on some ice! I think I know what's going on here... and I don't much like it. I don't much like it at all." Well, here, you avoid those old timey thoughts. Sure he's happy... look at the size of that fish!

Would you care to see another photo that will make you happy?

Whoa! An ambush? Not cool.

No. In fact, quite the opposite. This picture here should warm the cockles of your heart. While you should cringe when seeing the uncensored version of the pictures above, when you gaze upon this beauty each and every cockle you have should be toasty as shit.

Why?

It's all about timing.

Those pictures above? They came from last June, after the blind dog managed to find a bone. It's a tough thing to see, and even tougher to process. But that last picture? That came last night.

That's right. What you see right there is a captain, hoisting the Stanley Cup, during the 2010-11 season. And he can't even hide behind the idea that it was the first game of their season, so technically the cup was theirs 'till puck drop. Because as I'm sure you're aware, after last night's show, the Hawks are 0-1-1 - meaning at the time Johnny "Fingers And" Toews lifted that storied trophy above his head it wasn't his.

If that's not a clear way to piss off the Hockey Gods, I don't know what is.

Just based on their management, the Hawks were already doomed to go another 49 years without another Cup. Now? Holy shit who knows. All I know is that, as we've clearly experienced, those Hockey Gods are some temperamental bitches. Their wrath does not come easy, and they are neither merciful, nor kind.

Let it rain down upon Chicago. Let it fucking pour.

Way to ruin the party last night boys. Enjoy it - soak it up. You only get to laugh at Turco 5 more times this season.

Still on pace for 164 points.

Lets. Go. Wings.

Off to the Races: And that's how you start a season

2010-10-09T13:14:00.000-04:00

So you know how it feels when you're out in the heat, working hard, and getting increasingly thirsty? And how it feels when you then suddenly come across a giant pool of fresh drinking water?

Or how about how you feel after breaking a long fast, taking that first bite into a delicious meal?

Or when you've been really jonesing for some blow, and you just shove your face right in a pile of sweet columbian bam-bam?

Wings 4.
Ducks 0.

And that, my friends, was a game. There's a lot of really good things to take away from last night. Examples?

Howard took the ice to make one statement: "What the fuck is a sophomore slump?"
Currently, the Wings are on pace for a record breaking 164 point season.
Ken Kal is clairvoyant. Dude publicly predicted Modano's home opener goal. And it came on his first shot in the Winged Wheel. Not too shabby.
Mickey says Mule's gonna pot 50.
Speaking of Mickey, he's in peak mid-season form. "Well a how-do-ya-do for Christmas too!" Sweet Bear Jesus, I missed that man.
And Datsyuk...

Holy shit, Datsyuk.

Look at this silly bitch smile. Not pictured: me pissing myself.

Gordie. Howe. Hattrick.

But really? The best part of last night? Taking down the fucking Ducks. You know, somehow they're a team that allows me to forget how much I hate them in between match ups. I'm not really sure exactly how. Perhaps its because in the last couple of seasons, they haven't bothered to win anything. That usually takes the sting out of most rivalries.

But really? Fuck the Ducks. Right in their shiny purple Disney asses. Hard.

They showed their true colors last night. No, not the disgusting teal and yellow inspired by a shitty children's movie. I'm talking about the douchebag variety. As soon as things started going downhill for them (puck drop), they decided it was time to goon it up. After every delayed penalty, without fail, the entire roster of shitty human beings would start their little sideshow. Their "captain" spent the whole night trying to lure Homer into a fight. They displayed zero self control, zero discipline, and zero class.

I'm not surprised.

That's just the way this Ducks team is. It's the way they are, and the way they will be. And, you know, that's just fine. Because every time we face this gang of goons, we get to repeat last night. Plenty of time on the Belle Tire Power Play. Plenty of time ignoring their shenanigans, and focusing on lighting the lamp. Plenty of time winning.

So that was fun. But now the fun is over, and it's time to ruin a little ceremony. A ceremony that comes to Chicago only once every 50 years. A ceremony that isn't going to happen again any time soon. As the Hawks raise their pathetic fourth banner in 84 years, the Wings will chuckle. Our vets will look to the rafters at the United Center, see all four banners, and then laugh at the idea that they have as many rings as Red Wings as the Hawks franchise has in history. Then the puck will drop.

Time to spoil a party for some Bandwagoners.

Lets. Go. Wings.

At Long Last: Take a cool drink, the drought is over

2010-10-08T13:53:00.000-04:00

It's October, bitches.

Fresh Michigan honey crisp apples. Oktoberfest beers. Temperatures in the high 60's as the leaves begin to change. College football finally stops that BCS bullshit where douchebag AD's pad their win columns by playing as many obvious mis-matches as possible. NFL is in full swing.

And who gives a shit?

All of that autumn glory pales in comparison to the real reason that October is better than unicorn sex. At barns across the league the ice has been laid and painted. The skates are laced up, the sticks are prepped. The rubber is about the hit the ice.

Hockey's back.

Now, technically Hockey was back yesterday. But really, other than a few good laughs at Marty "Well, at least he's not making $6m" Turco, I couldn't care less. Real hockey begins tonight. Tonight, begins the March to 12.

It's not going to be quick. There are 82 games between now and April in the D. There will be bumps along the way. Hell, Ericsson is bound to be sure that's the case. There may be injuries, setbacks, slumps, and doubts. The pundits will declare that we're too old, too past our prime. They'll question our goaltending, challenging whether our backstops are enough to get it done.

In other words, they'll say the exact same shit they've been saying for the past decade while we've won numerous division titles and put up 100+ point seasons.

Color me not worried about it.

In fact, color me damn excited. All signs point to fuck yes. When the Wings take the ice tonight, they'll be doing so with more rest than they've had in years. They'll be doing it with the best Defenseman to play the game. They'll be doing it with the best coach in the league (need proof? here). They'll be doing it with the best two-way forwards in the game, in the prime of their careers. They'll be doing it a mule with intact knees. And they'll be doing it with the deepest forward corps of any team, including a third line featuring Happy, Newfie, and the most prolific American-born goal scorer of all time.

They'll be doing it with one goal.

Sure, teams will try and stand in our way. We play in a tough division. Nashville's got a solid defensive corps and superb goaltending. Columbus boasts the dynamic power forward Rick Nash and a goaltender looking to rebound from a sophomore slump. Chicago's got... um... well they've still got pizza...

Hockey's back. And so are we. Puck drops tonight in the motor city, for another epic chapter in Red Wings history. Thus begins the March to 12.

Lets. Go. Wings.

A Bucket Full of Right: 2010-11 Winged Wheel Guarantees

2010-09-01T17:09:00.000-04:00

Motherfuck it's hard to keep writing in the summer. Kudos to all those who are much more motivated who have managed to keep putting out good stuff. It's kept me from running naked through the streets of Chicago screaming at people to make it October already.

I've been close... believe me.

Anyway, it seems to be that time of year that everyone starts making their predictions. It does seem that everyone tends to temper expectations, noting that predictions almost never come through, and highlighting the hilarities of past mistakes. Well, dear reader, I'm not going to do that to you. I won't take the easy way out. I won't deliver a light hearted post full of analysis and thoughtful prognostications.

No. You deserve more than that. And so, I now proudly stand up like a man, and present to you:

The Winged Wheel's 2010-11 Guaran-fucking-tees

That's right. No predictions, guesses, or forecasts here. A new season approches, and though in the past I've been all to excited to load up my wrong cannon and blast away without discrimination, I now seek to turn over a new leaf. In that spirit, let's start the season off with some sure-fire, bound to happen, swear to Bear Jesus promises for what we can expect in the upcoming year.

Lets start with the Wings' forward corps:

Pavel Datsyuk will say silly things that will make us all laugh. He will then do silly things that will make opposing goaltenders cry.
Tomas Holmstrom's ass will be as valuable to the Wings as the breathalyzer installed in Khabibulin's car will be to humanity.
Todd Bertuzzi will piss me right the fuck off.
We're going to hear a fucking lot about Modano's childhood. We're going to get fucking sick of it. Then, we'll hear even more.
With the return of Happy Hudler, the number of hookers in the dressing room before and after games will triple from last year.
Aaron Downey will show up in training camp wanting to play for the Red Wings. Aaron Downey will leave training camp - still wanting to play for the Red Wings.

The defense:

Brett Lebda will make so many costly turnovers, and jump the rush far too aggressively so many times that... wait... no more Lebda? Well, in that case:
The number of things I break in my apartment will decrease dramatically from previous seasons.
Morons will continue to say that Lidstrom's days of domination are over. Then Captain Norris will make it clear how stupid those morons actually are. However, the morons will stand by what they say, because morons don't care if the shit that comes out of their mouths make any sense or has any basis in reality.

The goaltending:

People will talk shit about Chris Osgood despite his $1.4m salary and his 3 stanley cup rings. They'll continue to make fools out of themselves by showing zero appreciation for a guy who deserves it more than most. I will continue to think that those people can all go fuck themselves.
Many are taking their best guesses at whether or not Super Jimmah will have a sophomore slump. Because this is a list of guarantees, all I can say is that more often than not, there will be a goaltender in net for the Wings. Beyond that, who the fuck knows?

The Coaching and Management:

You know that line that you really like? Those players that really seem to click together? Well, as soon as you like that line, it will be broken right the hell up.
In a fit of senility, Jimmy Delvano will probably say some crazy shit to the press while wearing nothing but a diaper and knee high argyle socks.
Sitting here in Chicago, I will say - more than once - "Hey, fuck you. Cheli picked us."
While he may not pull down the Adams trophy he deserves, Babs will clearly win best hair

Broadcasts:

Larry Murphy will drink. A lot.
Mickey Redmond will say things that you'd expect from a drunk man. A lot.
NHL on NBC will continue to demonstrate that they have little to no understanding of the sport, its fans, logic, or reason.
Pierre McGuire will be banned for life from television broadcasting and a judge will issue a restraining order preventing him from going anywhere within 500 feet of any place hockey is played, practiced, or discussed. Then, unfortunately, I will wake up and find that it was just Leonardo DiCaprio fucking with me.

The League:

The league will be ran competently and consistently, ensuring that the best possible product is out there on the ice for the fans to enjoy without the frustration of piss poor management and absolute tomfoolery. I will also not employ the rhetorical device of sarcasm. Not once.
Absolute garbage officiating will fuck the Wings in the ass again and again. Then, people will call us lunatics for being upset with it. We will laugh at those people, and then drink a whole bunch.
Gary Bettman will continue to make way more money than just about any of us will ever see. The bright side: this is an outstanding educational tool for young children, used to demonstrate how fucking unfair life really is.

The Rivals:

The Wings will take the ice at the United Center for the Hawks' home opener. They will watch, as Chicago raises their banner to join the pathetic three already in the rafters. Soon after the puck drops, most of the fans in attendance will be come confused and angry at what all the lines on the ice mean. They will immediately begin cheering for their team the only way they know how - by not doing it at all. While chants of "Detroit Sucks" rain down from the stands, I will continue to be puzzled at their concept of "sucks." Also, I'll punch the first person who sings Chelsea Dagger to me right in the stomach.
Maybe this isn't a complete guarantee, but I'm pretty sure Happy Hudler is going to take a shit on center ice at the Consol Energy Center. Almost positive. Like 98%.
Patrick Kane, Ryan Getzlaf, Corey Perry, and Daniel Carcillo will be utter piece of shit human beings.
Whenever any of us needs a good laugh, we will be able to simply think about the St. Louis Blues.

The Site:

I'll continue to not give a shit about Ilya Fucking Kovalchuk.
This will not be a friendly place for fans of the Blackhawks.
I'll say fuck a lot, be wrong most of the time, act with complete and utter immaturity, and use this blog as a tool to put off doing shit I'm supposed to do.

And there you have it. I personally guarantee that each and every one of the above points will play out exactly as I've stated. If, by some crazy act, any of these things do not happen to the precise manner in which I laid them out - please direct all complaints to go fuck themselves.

It's almost time, bitches. We're almost there. I've got my tickets for preseason play at the United Center on the 25th. Live hockey so close I can taste it.

...is it October yet?

What a Week: It's not October, but for now it'll do.

2010-08-13T14:06:00.000-04:00

Summer is tough.

Hockey ends, and the subsequent months of waiting become difficult. This summer has been particularly bad. Free agent day was, for the most part, a bust. The news has been relatively slow and overwhelmingly Kovalchuck-centric. Even the Tigers - the usual methadone for a hockey-heroin addiction - have been overwhelmingly disappointing.

(Speaking of which, be sure to check out "A Game of Inges," a new Tigers blog started by a couple of buddies of mine. They picked an awesome time to start writing about the Tigers. Right about the time that even thinking about the Old English D makes you want to break your own femur. Even so - it's good shit. Read it.)

But really. It's been a less than easy summer - hockey-wise. The news has been slow. Well, until last week.

The last time I wrote, I was preparing to leave for a week to spend time in the Canadian wilderness. I suggested that as soon as I left, an avalanche of news would suddenly break. Turns out, I wasn't wrong.

Mike Modano Signs with the Wings

Fucking. Right. Doggy. Color me excited about this one. From the beginning I was in the camp that was favored bringing Modano back to Michigan. Sure, he's aging. Sure, he's had injury problems. But the dude still has wheels and a shot. He comes cheap, with great experience, and adds quite a bit of depth. However, perhaps the most overrated part of his game:

His ability to see dead people.

I'm way into the fact that Modano adds some real threatening scoring depth to the team, and will be a huge upgrade on the point for the second powerplay. Plus, he comes at only a $1.25 million cap hit. He'll be owed more in bonuses if he's able to play a good amount of games and we make it deep enough in the playoffs. To me, that's a great way to manage the cap. Rather than frontloading the contract, Kenny Holland will be able to... pay it forward.

ZING!

Chelios Retires and Takes a Front Office Job

Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to hang 'em up. Apparently his osteoperosis finally got in the way of his ability to enjoy the game. Again, I'm excited Cheli will be again tied to the Wings. First, he's a hockey icon and can really help out the front office. Second, it's one more thing that we've taken from Chicago for good. And that just feels good.

Speaking of which.

Marty Fucking Turco

Oh baby. The Saturday that I left, Antti Niemi was awarded $2.75 million by his arbiter. Disappointingly manageable. I was really hoping that the perfect storm of arbitration would have awarded him a whole lot more. This was the last bit of news I heard before being completely cut off from civilization. I fully expected to hear that Chicago jumped at the idea and put ink to paper, retaining their Stanley Cup winning goaltender.

About halfway through the week, I was having a conversation with the only other people on the lake up there. Toronto natives, they were of course hockey fans. Upon learning that I live in Chicago, they mentioned that the Hawks just signed Marty Turco.

Fifteen minutes of hysterical laughter later, I thanked them for the good news and had some celebratory Kieth's. Marty. Fucking. Turco. Now, Chicago's got a vastly overpaid sieve that they need to find a way to bury, sending a message to every free agent out there that they don't give a flying fuck about their player's careers, and a goaltender who's stats have gotten increasingly worse every year since the lockout and cannot manage to win games against his new division rival. AND they're about $3 million over the cap. That's just delicious.

Now, I know something else happened last week that is of note. What is it... Oh yeah.

The Winged Wheel is Getting Hitched

Note the Wings Hat. That's dedication.

Yessir. I know it's not really hockey related, but I'm excited so bear with me. About a month ago, JRock ensured that there would be a Future Mrs. JRock by getting engaged. I figured that was such a good idea that I followed suit. While in the most beautiful middle of nowhere on the planet, I somehow managed to trick a perfectly wonderful girl into promising to marry me. I'm pretty sure I can speak for JRock when I say we're both immensely excited, happy, and bewilderingly lucky.

So there ya have it. I managed to actually write something insightful during my last post, where I suggested that as soon as I left all kinds of wonderful things would happen in the hockey world. Turns out - me being out of the country makes the offseason a bit more bearable for the rest of you.

As a public service, I will officially volunteer to recreate the vacation and spend every offseason on a beautiful lake in the middle of northern Ontario. All I ask from you Wings fans is to finance it. I figure several cases of Alexander Keiths and a diamond ring per week sounds about right. Gotta be worth it to make sure the summer isn't so mind numbing.

...is it October yet?

I think I just peed myself a little....

2010-08-03T00:44:00.003-04:00

The freep is reporting that Modano will be signing with the Wings on Thursday. Buuuuttt, I'm not going to get too excited and make a big fuss/post out of it until the deed is done. Talk to ya Thursday, hopefully the news is good (fingers crossed)!

The Modano Mess: Hysteria in Hockeytown

2010-07-30T18:20:00.002-04:00

Also known by its non alliterative (read: non-douchey) title:

"Everyone just calm the fuck down about Mike Modano."

I've written here before I fell off the face of the Internet, stating that I wouldn't mind seeing Mike Modano slap on a Winged Wheel and skate for Detroit next season. Sure enough, days later, Kenny Holland was talking about his interest in the former Stars star, and Mikey Mo was visiting Hockeytown about his future. Excitement began to stir a bit. Personally, I was rather worried. If Modano happened to sign in Detroit, then I would have potentially written something mildly insightful, and it would likely be a sign of the impending apocalypse.

That aside, the prospect of the Greatest American Forward to have played the game taking the ice for the Wings was pretty exciting. Many people agreed, and some differed. And then, Mike did the unthinkable.

He didn't immediately cream himself at the prospect of playing for a new team in the first time in his career at the age of 40.

Panic ensued. Riots assembled. People gathered their brooms and officially declared shenanigans. In short: everyone lost their shit.

Color me confused. Now, I fully recognize the extent of the hypocrisy I'm exhibiting here in chiding Wings fans for overreacting about something Wings related. The very concept sends my stomach-encompassing hockey-ulcer into hysterics. But really: did absolutely anyone expect an instant decision from the guy?

Modano is 40 years old. He's coming off a season where he battled injuries and saw limited ice time. He's played his entire career with one franchise. At the end of last season, absolutely everyone simply assumed the guy was going to hang his skates up for good. Then, at the beginning of free agency there was a little bit of talk about him coming to Detroit. Now, nobody can understand why he wouldn't immediately sign a contract.

Modano has said that he's going to make a decision some time after 05 August, when he'll resume skating. He wants to see how he feels; see if he still has the energy and the drive to play for a full season of hockey. To me, that seems pretty reasonable. It's not like he's tying up the team, causing us to risk losing players, or miss out on other opportunities. It's not like waiting on Modano costs us an opportunity to offer Kovalchuk a 106 year contract for $8 billion or something. It just means we have less to yammer about during this pain in the ass hockeyless nightmare known as summer.

I guess what I'm saying is, there's other shit to worry about. You know, like

"The Winged Wheel's List of Other Shit to Worry About"

The Fisher-Underwood Wedding. I mean, come on! This holy union of two universal superstars is as life-altering as anything will ever be. Just like those who were around will never forget where they were when they heard that JFK was shot, I cannot imagine anyone alive today will forget the Fisherwood wedding. I imagine some day sitting my grandchildren down to tell them the story of the blonde with nice tits and the hockey player that people have only heard about because he's married to the blonde with nice tits. It's as romantic and timeless as the story of Cinderella and Prince Charming, Woody Allen and his creepy daughter-wife, or Mel Gibson and unfiltered racism. Matches made in heaven.
The World Cup. I know that it's over now, but at the time, caring about soccer became a requisite activity. It doesn't matter now mind-numbingly boring it is, or the fact that it's a Title 9 sport only truly cherished in the third world. If you didn't make it part of your daily life to miss work to watch two countries - who's main exports consisted of disease and mail order brides - battle it out for several hours while the sound of a swarm of angry mutant bees permeated your entire being, slowly trying to convince you to grab a weapon and go on a rampage... then you were a shitty citizen of Earth. Even the tried and true excuse of "Oh, I'm sorry... I thought this were 'Merica" doesn't get you out of pretending to love something so excruciating once every four years.
Preparing to take down the 2010 Stanley Cup Champions. It's going to be a tall order to ensure that Chicago doesn't manage to repeat their Cup winning performance next season. In order to regain their division crowns, the Wings are going to have to focus, preparing to take down all three of their forwards. Ha, yeah. Nevermind.
The long term effects of all the drugs taken at the Zetterberg wedding. Not long ago, Z tied the knot. Apparently, he and everyone invited celebrated by dropping a silly amount of acid, and dressing up like it was 1932 and they were all going to pile into Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and take a nice jaunt to the beach. We should be concerned, because a large contingent of Wings' players were in attendance, clearly under the influence of powerful hallucinogens. Take Homer for example:

Whether or not Aaron Downey will make the team. After a year hiatus, Downey has been invited to training camp. He really wants to make the big club. In related news, I really want to beat Lou Farigno in an arm wrestling competition while a choir of elves sing praises about me in pig latin and Whinny Cooper gives me a full-body oil massage without using her hands. Dreams.
What the hell you are all going to do with yourselves while I'm in Canada doing nothing but drinking ice cold Alexander Keiths. Almost immediately after I publish this post, I'm off for a week in the Canadian wilderness. I'm sure as soon as I've crossed the border and lose cell phone reception and internet capabilities Antti Niemi will receive a $60 billion and free hj's for life arbitration award, Modano will sign with the Wings, and Gary Bettman will be hit by a plane. But alas, I will not be able to share it with those of you with the stomach to handle my drivel until I return. Hey, maybe J Rock will finally write something (nudge, nudge).

Hopefully, this list will help keep your minds off of Mikey Mo's decision to do something rational for a little while, and you'll be able to focus on what is really important: laughing at Chicago's collapse. See you all in a week.

...is it October yet?

The Collapse in Chicago: A Day in the Life of Stan Bowman

2010-07-29T17:13:00.001-04:00

Tough summer for the son of the greatest coach of all time. Sure, the Blackhawks won a cup. Sure, they had a fun parade full of people who haven't watched a collective 60 minutes of hockey in their entire lives. Sure, they got to play Chelsea Dagger over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and da da da, da da da, duh da da, duh...

Ahem. They got to play it 'till everyone's brain short-circuited.

But that celebration was mostly short-lived. At least for Stan. Because Stan knew deep down inside, that he had a nightmare in front of him. A cap situation that could only be summarized as a clusterfuck on horse steriods. And Stan didn't have any solutions.

Not surprising really. I mean, the dude got the job because his dad is a super-genius that the franchise wanted to attract and keep around. And it's not like they won the cup off of his ingenuity. The roster that took the ice this year had very little to do with him, and everything to do with Dale Tallon, years and years of bottom feeding, and obvious draft picks. So really, no matter how many times the Chicago faithful (all five of them) repeat to themselves that everything will be OK, and they'll find a way out of cap-hell, there isn't really any reason to have faith, or believe that anything other than an utter collapse is imminent.

Today Antti Niemi goes to salary arbitration. In order to fit under the cap, the Hawks are hoping that he's awarded a contract where he has to pay the team about $5 million a year for a decade. They're really relying on the arbitor demanding that Antti sell his family's yam farm (or whatever the hell they grow in Finland) and sacrifice three of his closest relatives to the Spirit of the Collective Bargaining Agreement. Otherwise, they're - to put it scientifically - fucked.

This has been causing Stan a great deal of stress. I mean, considering his team actually can't even afford to pay their Stanley Cup winning goaltender the league minimum, he's got to be worried about the perfect storm in front of him. The guy just won a Stanley Cup, goaltenders with less to brag about are signing multimillion dollar awards, and the backup on the same damn team is pulling down $5.6 million a year. That's just hillarious.

Well, it's less hillarious to Stan. He's not taking it so well. In fact, we here at The Winged Wheel have proof. We've got the insight you just don't get elsewhere. Lucky for you I'm currently stuck in enemy territory, and through covert operations I managed to spy on Stan for a whole day, tracking his every move. And without further ado, I present:

"A Day in the Life of Stan Bowman."

7:15 am: Chelsea Dagger alarm goes off. Stan blindly reaches up and drops a fist down on the snooze button.
8:25 am: 10 "snoozes" later, Stan throws the alarm clock across the room. Pulls a bottle of Grape Burnetts from under his pillow and takes a 45 second swig.
8:30 am: Stan rolls out of bed, landing on the floor. Drags himself up and to the kitchen where he pours himself a bowl of Rice Krispies and Wild Turkey. Grabs the Tribune, flips to the Sports section to read another thrilling article designed to teach the Chicago masses about the complicated icing rule they haven't been able to figure out yet.
9:00 am: Doorbell rings. Opens to find a gift basket from Atlanta Thrashers's Rick Dudley. Angrily signs and throws it in the corner with decaying flowers he got from the Maple Leafs' Brian Burke.
9:15 am: Hot shower and a good long cry.
9:45 am: OK, now it's a cold shower. Still crying.
10:30 am: Assistant, concerned that he hasn't shown up at the United Center yet, enters to find him shivering in the fetal position of the floor of his still running shower, sobbing uncontrollably. Helps him to his feet, and lets him cry on his shoulder.
11:00 am: Managed to finally get dressed in sweatpants and an "I Heart Dad" tee, Stan calls for a cab because he's still drunk from breakfast.
11:25 am: Finally convinces the company to send a driver after persistent insistance that despite his affiliation with the Blackhawks, he's really not that close to Patrick Kane.
12:00 pm: Arrives at the United Center, passes Huet's agent in the hall. Smiles through grit teeth. Afterward, punches himself in the dick.
12:15 pm: More crying.
12:30 pm: Listens to 29 voicemails full of hysterical laughter from GM's returning calls about their interest in Cristobal Huet or Brian Campbell.
1:00 pm: Assistant enteres office with his usual summer lunch: Three bottles of Tums and a glass full of Whiskey and Nyquil.
1:30 pm: Stands on the roof of the United Center, stares down at the earth below for about an hour.
2:30 pm: Receives a call from IT, confirming that CapGeek.com has been blocked from the United Center servers.
3:00 pm: Meeting with scouting corps going over the affordable prospects. A kid someone found playing street hockey on the south side with a 2 x 4, a tennis ball, and a garbage can seems promising to fill out the fourth line, but his contract demands may be a little high.
3:25 pm: Throws darts at large portrait of Dale Tallon. Eventually charges the picture, throwing punches at the drawing's face. Patrick Kane walks by and offers him advice on his form.
3:45 pm: Checks in on group of top notch accountants and numbers gurus for an update on their project assignment - reinventing math. Not going well.
4:00 pm: Calls Marian Hossa to see if he has dinner plans. Reluctantly agrees that Tomas Kopecky can come too, and that he gets to pick the restaurant.
5:00 pm: Dinner at Chuck-E-Cheese. After Hossa threatens to quit, Stan agrees to give Kopecky quarters to play the games. The two share a laugh over a joke about Hossa playing after 40.
5:15 pm: Freaks out because he forgot to feed Denis Savard. Calls his assistant to ask him to throw some scraps into the cage he's been kept in since being fired over nothing.
6:00 pm: On his walk home, native Chicagoan approaches him, asking "Don't I know you?" Receives puzzled stare after explaining he's associated with a hockey team. Spends 20 minutes describing hockey.
7:00 pm: Gets home, calls his dad and begs him to find him a different job. Cries.
7:45 pm: Fires up the PS3 to play NHL10. Still can't manage to get through a season without being fired in the Be A GM mode.
9:00 pm: Prayer. Deplores the lord to please not let the sun rise in the morning.
9:15 pm: Passes out clutching a copy of the pre-lockout CBA, stained with booze and tears

Poor Stan. It can't be easy knowing that your window of opportunity is officially slammed shut and knowing that you are doomed to spend the rest of your career losing to the team your fanbase seems to think "sucks" so hard. Well hey... at least he's got a ring someone else earned for him that he can pawn in a few years.

...is it October yet?

July Redux: Holy crap it's almost August

2010-07-28T19:37:00.001-04:00

Yeah, yeah. I'm alive.

You know, the summer is a real pain in the ass. Granted, overall I'm a fan of much of the weather. And hell, you won't hear a complaint from me about a lighter law school schedule. But really, what the hell am I supposed to do without hockey? It's usually around this time of year that October starts to feel reeeeeeeeaaaaaallllly far away. We're just far enough away from the end of the season that it feels like forever since I've last watched a game. We're also far enough past the Draft and the start of Free Agency that we don't have shit to look forward to except for training camp.

This is the part of the post where I'd say something like "Well... thank Bear Jesus for Baseball." Yeah, that's probably not going to happen here. Mostly because Larry Aurie decided that his vendetta against Mike Illitch needs to extend beyond just attacking the Wings' roster. Now, the Toledo Mudhens are taking the field at Comerica and the sports world continues to be a miserable, torturous, gut-wrenching hellscape with no sign of salvation in sight. Hooray. Hooray indeed.

That being said, it's not like things worth commenting upon just haven't happened in the hockey world since I last took up valuable bandwidth with inappropriate drivel. So, why not, here's what we missed.

Free Agent Day

Boy, I'm sure the internet just didn't know what to do with its collective self without my comments on such dynamite player movements like Jody Shelly to the Flyers, or Jonathan Matsumoto to the Hurricanes. Thrilling. Though, there were a few gems. Like Glen "Holy Fuck I Can't Be Fired No Matter How Hard I Try" Sather signing Derek Boogard to a 6.6 milliohahahahHAHAHAHAHA. Ahem. $6.6 million contraHAHA. One more try.

$6.6 million dollars of refuckulous.

Seriously, how does that guy have a job? Gives me hope... gives me hope...

Speaking of refuckulous contracts:

The Brett LebdHAhaha fiasco

That's right folks. One of our favorite whipping boys here at The Winged Wheel will be turning pucks over and getting caught jumping the rush for the Toronto Maple Leafs. Not only that, but he'll be paid almost $1.5 million dollars a year to do it. At the time, there were lots of "experts" that called this a great move, indicating two things. 1) Apparently it doesn't matter if your most recent "playoff experience" includes envying Chris Osgood's responsibilities manning the faceoff chart, and 2) "Experts" are fucking idiots.

The key here: that shitbird is no longer a Wing. That's something we can all be happy about.

The Chicago BlackHAHAHAwks

Oh yeah. No way I'm going to stop adding laughter to words, no matter how old and tired it gets.

Anyway, there are a lot of questions surrounding the Chicago Blackhawks. How will they manage their salary cap and still have the minimum number of players to take the ice? Will they be able to afford the 16 billion dollars Anti Niemi gets awarded in arbitration? Will it be as funny in 2058 that they'll still be advertising "2010 Stanley Cup Champions" on their playoff tickets as it was in 2009 when they were advertising their 1961 win?

Can someone please pass the fork? They're done.

They've lost players left and right. Then there was that whole hillarious Hjmarladhdadqqqlbntson (sp?) situation, where San Jose offered the guy a contract with a hit of over $4 million dollars, forcing the cash strapped Blackhawks to let their promising defenseman go...

Oh wait. Nope. Just as it looked as maybe (MAYBE) the Hawks would be able to peice together a team without loosing every single ounce of their core, they matched it. Hillarious.

That means the Hawks currently have -400,000 to sign at least a forward, a defenseman, and Anti Niemi. Hey, maybe someone will take one for the team and pay to play.

I cannot wait for 24 September.

Bob Probert Inducted to the Legion of the Hockey Gods

No reason to insert laughter into this one because it's damn tragic. In fact, this deserves much more than a blurb on a "Fuck me, I haven't updated in a while" post. But the sad fact is that for the moment, this will have to do.

Personally, my exposure to Probert the Wing was limited to a few years. Though I distinctly recall some of my first hockey memories being excited about one of the bruise brothers dropping the gloves. Maybe the fact that some of my first hockey fights included one of the best to ever throw down helped shaped my whole-hearted belief that fighting is not only good for the game, its downright key.

Add the fact that Probie spent his best years protecting the Greatest Captain to Ever Play the Game. That in itself earns the man a seat of honor in the litany of Wings Greats.

Probie, you went too early. But now that you've joined the Legion, can you do us a favor? You've taken blows for the Wings before, and we're asking you to help out again. Keep an eye out for any of those coke-riddled Hockey Gods that decided to shit all over us last season, and when you see 'em? Do what you do best.

RIP Probie.

That's not everything, but I'll throw in my two cents about some of the other issues in another post. Baby steps.

...is it October yet?

Free Agency: Wish lists, pipe dreams, and perspectives

2010-06-29T21:11:00.002-04:00

At Noon O'Clock Eastern Standard Time this Thursday, the most exciting thing all summer will occur: Free Agent Day. It's a day of ups and downs, intrigue and excitement, anguish and glory. This year it's also a day of hilarity, as we get to watch a parade of free agents march out of Chicago.

Last year, free agent day for the Wings started with a few key players jumping ship. Eventually Mikael "petition the league to replace nets with soccer goals" Samuelsson took off to Vancouver, and Happy Hudler bailed for the KHL.

Of course, the biggest splash came on day one with the most sought after name on the free agent market: Tomas Kopecky. He signed on 01 July, just after the clock started ticking, with division rival Chicago Blackhawks. Of course, he could only be lured there so long as his good friend, Marian "drag my ass to the promised land, please" Hossa was offered a deal as well. So yeah, that happened too.

Overall though, the Wings didn't make much happen on the free agent market. They made their splashes during the season when they worked to retain The Mule and Z. They made a few moves late in free agency, signing Patrick Eaves, Todd "hey, die in a housefire" Bertuzzi, and who could forget Brad May.

This year, our impact on free agency will be basically the same. Though, With Homer and Bert having put ink to paper and our RFAs receiving qualifying offers, we won't have to worry about players marching out of town like last year, so that's good.

But hey, its fun to imagine wild-ass scenarios. In that spirit we're throwing logic and reason to the wayside (ha! Like we've ever bothered with that garbage anyway) and developing The Winged Wheel Wishlist of Wonderful Wacky ... um... Fwee-Agents.

Without further ado:

Ilya Kovalchuk

Okay, okay. Just hear me out. I know he's the biggest name on the market, and is certain to command a huge salary, but this could totally happen. Only a few things would need to fall into place. First, Ilya would have to take a pay cut. Not a huge one, just something small. You know, something like a 98% cut to make the minimum. Now, I know a big star like Kovy won't want to play for nothing, so perhaps we can get Capologist Ryan Martin to find a loophole or two. Namely, I'm figuring getting Mr. I to guarantee free Hot N Ready's for life, and maybe just giving a Little Caesar's franchise or three to some of Ilya's closest family members back in mother Russia.

Oh, and to make room, we'd definitely need to axe Bertuzzi. Also, I don't mean "axe" in terms of firing. I think we'd actually have to take an axe to him, so that we wouldn't have to worry about a residual cap hit.

Slava Kozlov

Oh you know we love our nostalgia here at The Winged Wheel. And how much more nostalgic can you get than an original member of The Russian Five. Now, lets be clear, in order to truly make this have an impact, we'll need to reunite as much of that group as possible. Does anyone else remember the story of Fetisov taking the ice in Russia for a couple of games this season at the ripe old age of 51? Research be damned, I haven't bothered to follow up. Though I think it's entirely reasonable to assume that he managed to be a +19, playing 30 minutes a game and scoring at a 2 points per game pace. So why not offer him a contract to come back to the D.

While we're at it, apparently Sergei Fedorov is having money troubles because he's having his homes foreclosed on. Why don't we promise to buy his property at auction and let him and his family live there as long as he skates for the winged wheel once again?

Now, as for The Professor. Apparently, according to the ever reliable source Wikipedia, Larionov is currently a professional wine merchant. Well, I bet we can get him back on skates as long as Olympia Entertainment agrees to sell his wines at the Joe during games. Now, I'm sure "Hattrick" wine isn't quite as refreshing as a cold Molson, but people will get used to it as long as The Professor is on the ice again.

The only missing piece would be Vladdy, but obviously that won't work. So, in his honor, I suggest that every time the Russians take the ice, we elect to only go with four skaters. They can all skate in missing man formation, refusing to break form in the interest of either defensive or offensive opportunities. Opponents will be in such awe that these guys should be able to score at will.

Of course, in order to make this work, someone will need to murder Todd Bertuzzi. Obviously.

Marty Turco

Now this kind of signing would really be beneficiahahHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Yeah. No.

Kim Johnsson, John Madden, Nick Boynton, Adam Burish, Kyle Greentree, Danny Richmond, Joey Crabb, Mark Cullen, Danny Bois, Jassen Cullimore, Richard Petoit

Two words: Fighting Practice. Kenny is on record saying that he'd like to maybe get an enforcer this offseason. Well, why go out and try and find something that isn't there when we can just develop what we have. I propose we sign the entire contingent of Blackhawk UFAs and use them to develop our teams pugilistic nature. Now, in order to fit all of these guys under the cap, we'll need to be sure that they're all on LTIR before the end of camp. So our guys are going to really have to wail on them.

Also, for this to work we'll have to ship Bertuzzi to Siberia to live in the Gulag. Hey, at least Moore's attorneys can't touch him there.

Mike Modano

Ok, this one is not a joke. The Stars have cut ties with Mike, and he feels like he's got some hockey left in him. Now, he's a bit of an injury risk, but when he's healthy is a plenty serviceable third line center. With a bit of a hometown discount, Modano could fit under the cap and contend for another cup. He'd fit well with our system, playing defensively and adding a scoring touch. He could sub in on the second power play and provide some extra veteran leadership and playoff motivation. I'm into it.

Oh and I forgot to mention that in oder to land Modano we'd probably have to agree to shove Bertuzzi through a woodchipper. Completely and totally worth it.

Of course, because I've now written it on this blog, it will never fucking happen. But hey, a guy can dream.

Dear Sports Gods: I swear I didn't sleep with your sisters.

2010-06-16T20:11:00.001-04:00

Yesterday, I wrote a piece all about how Bert shouldn't come back. I ranted and raved about how he can be a liability for the team, about how last year's production was likely the anomaly rather than the rule, and about how signing Bert would stand in the way of signing the guys who more deserve contracts and have much brighter futures.

"Todd Bertuzzi has agreed to a two-year, $3.875 million deal with the Detroit Red Wings."

Link - St. James via Freep

Oh what the fuck!?

Really? Really Sports Gods? You're all about fucking me these days, and I'm flabbergasted. What exactly is it that I've done to you? First you tear through our roster, making every moment of the season a stress-filled bucket of hell. Then you give me just enough hope to believe that we're contenders... just to yank it away with a rough loss to the biggest playoff choke artists of the past decade. THEN, you decide to give the Cup to the team in the city I happen to temporarily live. That's right, 49 years the Hawks went without Lord Stanely's chalice, and you happen to end the drought during the three that I happen to be here. That's not enough though. You've got to have the sons of bitches drag the thing to the bar IN my neighborhood, just to rub it in.

And now this. You wait until I've opened my damn mouth on the topic and then shove it directly up my ass. Gee, thanks.

Ugh. So... I guess this is the part where I provide the in-depth, thoughtful, well reasoned analysis of a passionate but objective commentator:

FUCK this.

There she is. There's your objective analysis. There's your well-reasoned sentiment. Now piss off Bert.

$3.875 million over two years. That, my dear friends, is a cap hit of $1.93m. Almost $2 million dollars.

By the way, that $2 million? That'd be more than Tomas Holmstrom's cap hit. Yep. I said more. And yeah... Homer. The guy who scored MORE goals and had MORE points in 14 LESS games. You know... the Wing for life that has never walked for a few more dollars, or played hardball with his contract. Yeah... him.

Absolutely disgusting. You know, it's real hard to criticize the greatest GM in sports. It truly is. In almost every circumstance I'd defer to him... but this... I'm not so sure. Two years for a guy who has played 82 games three times in his entire career. And you know how since the Moore incident Bert's been criticized for not playing at 100%? Think his numbers are going to go up in the first year of his contract, when he's got nothing to play for? Think he's going to take less lazy penalties? Think he's going to somehow learn how to corral or make a pass... or control himself from creaming in his own jock strap over his awesome spin-o-rama pass to the other team?

I don't.

Boy I hope I'm wrong, but I think this is one contract that we will live to regret. The numbers don't support the concept that he's somehow going to perform like he did this year and be worth a $2m hit... he's a liability, and in my mind, an obstacle to #12.

So, sports Gods... whatever it is I did to piss you of so much, a thousand mea culpas to you. Perhaps I'll make a sacrifice to appease you. How big of a sacrificial funeral pire do you think I'll need for a 6'3" 230lb male...

...is it October yet?

(By the way, this happens to be the Winged Wheel's 100th post. Accordingly, it's full of anger, spite, and hatred. Oh yeah, and the word 'fuck.' Hooray us!)

On Bertuzzi: Yeah, no thanks.

2010-06-15T16:20:00.001-04:00

So, the word is that Kenny Holland has offered Todd Bertuzzi a two year deal... and... uh... Bertuzzi has somehow not immediately signed it.

In related news, the Marian Hossa has a Stanley Cup ring, Americans are watching soccer, and I'm strongly considering betting the under on the Myans' 2012 prediction for the end of the world. The Apocalypse is very likely upon us.

What other explanation fits the fact that Bert hasn't immediately taken whatever deal has been handed to him? In fact, it appears that the provisions of the deal would actually give him a raise for the first of the two. Apparently, we'd still be looking at a $1.5m cap hit, which means Bert would stand to make about $3m over the next two years.

And he's sitting on it.

Apparently, he thinks he's worth more. Apparently he's planning on holding out for free agency. Apparently, his agent doesn't watch him play.

Other than suprise, my reaction to this is overwhelmingly positive. I know there are many out there who would welcome Bert back with open arms for that cap hit. Hell, even I can't deny that he earned is $1.5 this year. During times where Larry Aurie reared his ugly head, murder-raping our lineup and creating a conga line to the trainer's table, Bert stepped up now and then. During those other times, he occasionally allowed pucks to bounce off of him into the net. Looking back, he certainly wasn't my favorite player, but him being on the team didn't hurt as much as it occasionally helped.

But those days are over. We're getting some of our depth scoring back in place, and (please don't fuck me on this one Larry) it's unlikely we'll have the type of injury situation we had last season. Ergo, Bert's probably not going to be skating next to Pavel Datsyuk or Hank Zetterberg very often.

Care to take a guess on what that will do to Professor Fuck-a-pass's numbers? I'm thinking the odds are that they'll go in the same direction of Thid Rosby toward Lil' Gary's lap.

Add to that the fact that Bert is entirely unable to make or receive passes. He loves turning the puck over with that goofy fucking spin-o-rama to nobody move he's so enamored with. He FAR takes more PIMs than anyone else on the team, with ZERO fighting majors. 80 PIMS last season. The next highest? Brad May at 66, 50 of which stemmed from fights. He doesn't use his size to his advantage in muscling through the defense, or backchecking hard. All this isn't even mentioning the fact that the guy was a -7 playing on the top lines last year.

None of these statistics are going to get better playing next to ValFil, Eaves, Helm, or Abby rather than Dangles, Mule, or Z. His point totals this year were moderately respectible but they aren't going up. Also consider that based on Bert's recent history, the fact that he played all 82 games this season is a literal miracle. Are we to assume that miracle is going to extend for the next two years? Well... not if we're being rational.

That roster spot and the cap space could be much better used. As it stands, we've got 9 forwards, 6 D-men, and 2 goaltenders signed. Kenny's on record saying that we'd like to get one more veteran defenseman before the puck drops in October. That means 17 or 18 roster spots are taken, depending on whether or not Ritola makes the team. The max roster size is 23, meaning we've got 5-6 spots available. Now, consider the forwards with the team last year, looking for a contract:

Bertuzzi
Maltby
Abdelkader
Helm
Miller
Eaves

If we sign Bert that leaves one man out. Either Ritola will have to clear waivers and play in the AHL, or one of the above guys doesn't get a contract. PLUS, we're talking about a maximum roster. It's unlikley that Kenny is going to roll with all 23 guys signed with three players rotating in and out. Further, of the above forwards, probably only Maltby would be willing to do that at this point in his career.

Many would say that Malts should be the odd man out. Though that overlooks the fact that the guy has basically been a Wing for life, that he'd like to return, and that our organ-i-zation can sell itself as a loyal franchise to new free agents. Casting Maltby - a still effective grinder and agitator - aside in favor of Bertuzzi - a shit-for-brains liability that is currently mulling over a contract, hoping for something better - would really hurt that argument. The Wings could sign Malts at a minimum contract and he'd likely be OK rotating in and out of the lineup. Meanwhile, by not singing Bert we'd be able to offer contracts to all of our RFAs and both Eaves and Miller - two young guys with promising futures.

Though, as of now Bert is sitting on his offer. It looks like he'll wait all the way up to the deadline on it - the beginning of free agency. As such, he's doing what he does best: putting our team in a difficult situation. Only this time he's not taking a lazy stick penalty, he's preventing Kenny from inking the guys who more deserve an offer.

So at least for now, I shall continue with one of our many mantras here at The Winged Wheel:

Fuck you, Bertuzzi. Fuck you in your shiny purple ass.

...is it October yet?

Enjoy It Chicago: And then shove it up your ass

2010-06-10T23:17:00.002-04:00

I imagine the songwriter for The Fratellis sitting around with a legal pad. Perhaps on a tour bus. Maybe in a calm wooded area, surrounded by peace and tranquility. Maybe on the floor of a Wendy's bathroom. He's writing the lyrics to a new song. This one's going to be a hit. He can feel it in his blood. He gets to the chorus.

Hm... this needs to be deep. Thoughtful. It must transcend the depths of the human experience... truly speak to the animal nature of man. It must be both a ballad in celebration of love and joy, and a commentary on the daily struggles faced by millions - internally, and externally. Lets see...

--Duh da duh, duh da duh...

Good start... getting there. This next bit needs to really grab at the listener's soul...

--Duh da duh, duh da duh...

Wow, this is some good acid. I'm really knocking this one out of the park.

--Duh da duh da duh da da.

I call it, "Chelsea Dagger."

...and ever since I've wanted to choke that son of a bitch with a curtain wire.

Congrats to the Bandwagon. They managed to shove more goals past the Flyers shitty goalie than was shoved past their shitty goalie. A thousand horrays.

What a story though. I mean, wow. Players like Jonathan "too cool for school" Toews and Patrick "respect for the working man" Kane have really been yearning for this moment for what seems like an eternity... to a hyperactive four year old. The goaltending duals were simply fantastic; 47 goals in 6 games? Wow, thats less than 8 goals a game! And those fans. They've been waiting. Well... five of them have. The rest had to wait a harrowing two weeks since they decided to start watching.

And can we please all shut the hell up about Marian Hossa? All ill-will aside, it's not that great of a story. The way the media plays the story, the guy's been waiting longer than Pat Kane for his cab-fare change. The film is Ray Borque II: The man behind the douche. Marian Hossa FINALLY wins.

Let's get it straight... he's 31. He played for some outstanding teams that made it to the finals three years running. He choked hard enough in those playoffs to ensure that for two of them, he walked away empty handed. That doesn't make him a hero. It makes him a choke-artist who rides the coattails of more talented and more driven players. So lets stop pretending like the guy was owed something, or he's that he's been robbed in the past.

And by the way... did anyone else catch that self-entitled dicknose panting like a puppy while Toews lifted the cup. His captain had about 10 seconds with the thing till he got in his face, grabbed it, and celebrated for a solid minute like it was all about him. Like he didn't spend the majority of the playoffs pulling a Hossa and waiting for everyone else to drag his ass to the finals. Gross. I wasn't a huge fan of the guy before, mostly because of the choke job he pulled in Detroit. But now, ugh.

The worst thing though? The cup is in the same city as I am... and it's not Detroit. It's ours. It sucks ever watching another team pick it up and celebrate. It's even worse when the fuckers are right under your nose. I still hold that the children on that team didn't suffer enough to deserve the ultimate prize and their "fanbase" for the most part is in the same boat. Sure, they had a hell of a drought, but its not like the overwhelming majority of them were around for any of it.

Gary's getting his way. He wants "parity" and that's what this system creates. The Hawks didn't win because of the genius moves their front office made. Quite the opposite. They won because they sucked so hard for so long that they're loaded with obvious draft picks. Honestly, a computer could have GMed this team by just automatically selecting whatever The Hockey News set as their draft rankings. And next year? It's all over. Chicago won't be able to afford the team they had this year. Not by a long shot. Give it five years and we'll likely be looking at the Isles in the same fashion. The idiots on NBC will rant and rave about how talented they are, and how hard their front office worked to rebuild them, when really.... it's just about getting those lottery picks.

Whatever. Next year its ours. We'll take it back. For now, I'll keep breeding the hate because those fuckers deserve it. Go ahead... chant nothing but "Detroit Sucks" while you eat a chode for a decade and then act like I'm supposed to embrace you when you're in the finals. Eat me.

Enjoy that Cup. It's ours next year.

...is it October yet?

Longevity: Yet another thing Hockeytown has over Chicago

2010-06-04T13:43:00.000-04:00

Sure, the Hawks are playing for the Cup right now.

And yeah, the Wings are off watching Tigers games, participating in batting practice, and enjoying their offtime.

But there's one more thing that the Wings are doing that will make sure that no matter what happens in the next few games between the Hawks and the Flyers, they'll be our bitches for years to come:

They're ensuring that we'll be back.

"The Red Wings finalized a two-year contract with free-agent forward Tomas Holmstrom for $3.75 million, the Free Press learned Thursday."

Link - Via St. James at Freep

Big news. Homer was by far our most important free agent forward. A Wing for life, one of the skaters on our team needing just one more ring for a fistful of bling. The absolute best net presence forward in the entire league - bar none.

And not only that, but Kenny got some good news recently. Shit... what was it again? It's slipping my mind...

Oh yeah.

Lidstrom, the lynchpin to our success, the key to our classifciation as condenders, the perfect motherfucking human: Back for a year. Not only that, but Captain Norris took a pay cut. He'll be paid $6.2m for being the most valuable player in the league.

Yeah, I said it. He is. If you disagree: you're flat out wrong and it's likely you either don't watch hockey, you choose loosing arguments on purpose, or your IQ hovers somewhere below room temperature.

Ahem. Anyway. That highlights the reason that it really doesn't matter what happens in this series. Well, that and this:

Go ahead and do that math. I promise it will make you happy. Well, unless you're Stan Bowman. The cap currently stands at $56.8m. The Hawks payroll for next year? $57.59m. Even if the cap goes up $2m - currently the highest projection - Chicago will be staring down the barrel of being just about a million under. That's with 9 forwards, 4 defensemen, and Cristobal "Someone please hire me that guy's agent" Huet.

Ha. Get it? The Flash. In a Pan.

Boom. Roasted.

After this series is over, go ahead and stick a fork in 'em.

Conversely, the Wings are going to be looking at coming into a season with more rest than they've had in four years. They'll be doing so not with just their core of top forwards, but with the greatest defensive player to ever lace them up wearing the C for at least one more year. They'll have relatively inexpensive younger guys cracking the roster, and veterans used to winning hardware and lighting lamps doing what they do best. So as long as Larry Aurie leaves us alone and injuries don't fuck us like they did this year, the Central will be ours again.

So go ahead bandwagoners - relish in literally the smallest window of opportunity in all of sports. And continue to hold it over our heads like it proves something. The fact remains, this little example illustrates the difference between our franchises: Longevity. We've got a GM and a front office that knows what the fuck they're doing. It doesn't take us years and years of lottery picks to finally get a one-year shot at the cup for us. We contend year in and year out. And while we don't win them all - we win more than anyone else. At the end of this series, the Red Wings will be back. The Blackhawks?

Well, maybe the Bandwagoners can hope Lebron picks Da Bulls.

Go Catstrophic Building Failure and/or Flyers!

...is it October yet?

Giving Back: Helping Chicago, one bandwagoner at a time

2010-05-28T14:10:00.003-04:00

Boy, it sure is a good thing there's plenty of time between the Conference Finals and the Cup Finals. I'd hate for the Hawks and Flyers to not get enough rest. It's one of the things I love about hockey, and the NHL in particular: they're always so consistent. Every year, between the time the final two teams are decided, and the time they take the ice, there's a ton of time for recuperation and rest. Enough time to really watch tape, develop strategy, and take to the ice completely and totally prepared. Every. Single. Year.

What? Oh, right. I forgot.

Last year it was so damn important to keep building on ratings momentum from the Conference Finals that we really had to be sure to get right to it. Just a couple of days, and here we go. Oh, and be sure to schedule those games back to back. Wouldn't want to miss that all important Neilson rating Sunday!

Fuck this league.

Well hey, might as well make myself feel better right? And what better way to do so than at the expense of one of the few things I hate more than the management of the league I love to watch so much: Blackhawk Fans.

If you don't remember, after the Wings lost I threw up an ad on Craigslist offering my services to Bandwagoners, through my Blackhawks Bandwagoner Assistance Program. Well, I promised to follow up, and I figured I'd share a few of the responses these gems of humans beings managed to send my way. They really seemed in need of the services I offered, but unfortunately, none of them had the stones to reply back. Too bad, I really thought I had the opportunity to make this world a better place by teaching just a few fair-weather pricks what "icing" is.

Without Further Ado:

Blackhawk Bandwagoner Assistance Program:

The Responses

May 10, 2010 8:21:22 AM CDT

"Your still feeling the pain from the game 7 loss last year against the penguins!!!!!!!
And for this year well you just got beat by a way better team!!!!!
Go Hawks!!"

This seems to be the norm with the MENSA candidates that call themselves Hawks fans. They're not so good with the whole "English Language" thing. Judging by these responses, the Chicago education system has apparently failed a large portion of the community. Someone should call Dick Daley and let him know city funds would probably be better put to use in classrooms rather than to drape racist sweaters over every friggin' structure and statue in the city.

May 10, 2010 11:18:19 AM CDT - "Jim"

"Hey is this offer still on the table? If so i would love to employ your services. I'm a slow learner so i may need at least 2 hours. I would like to go over things like, 1) Why the redwings are out of the playoffs, 2) A breakdown of game 7 of last years Stanley Cup finals, 3) How it felt, as a redwings fan, to watch Sid the Kid raise the cup over his head at The Joe, 4) and finally, get your predictions on who will knock out the redwings next year. Hope to hear from you soon.

-Jim

Kudos to Jim. His response was actually moderately clever. I figured I'd get a few of these, considering I willingly decided to taunt a team headed to the conference finals immediately after my team lost. Anyway, my response:

Hi Jim!

Absolutely! I'm glad that you are interested in my services. The first step to recovery is admitting that you have a problem. It certainly does seem that you are need of help, as your response seems to indicate either that you have a strong affinity for the Pittsburgh Penguins, or that you think that Sidney Crosby plays for the Blackhawks. I'm not sure I'll be able to fully bring you into the light in only two hours, though. Could I interest you in my special "Blackhawks Victory Package"? You get three hours for only $84! I named it after the ratio of Hawks championships to years they've been playing; 3:84!

Just so you know, I've already billed you for this response. Also, I round up, so be sure to send me $50 as soon as you can. Thank you!

I look forward to helping with your crippling problem.

Even though the Hawks were still playing, the first few emails I got were really heavy on the "Haha, you lost to the Penguins by a goal in a series you beat us to get to." Not really their best option, if you ask me. Again, Mr. Daley, perhaps you should start redirecting those funds a bit faster than usual.

May 12, 2010 11:11:44 PM CDT; "You are as the french-candians would say, Le Douche"

"your winded speech on hockey was one of the funniest things i've ever read. not because you're funny... but because you think you're funny. have fun watching the worlds since your team is out.

D. Feeney"

Ok, I decided to redact this winner's first name here, because who couldn't resist emailing Mr. Feeney? Feen-ah! Fee-hee-hee-hee-NAH! ...Ahem.

Hi Mr. Feeney,

I'm glad that you are interested in my services! Would you like to pay me in cash or credit? I must warn you however, if you pay by cash I may not be able to make change. I feel it is necessary to be up front about this in case you feel the need to beat the living shit out of me for shorting you a few cents in the spirit of your great team.

Looking forward to hearing from you and helping you with your problem!

Zing indeed.

May 20, 2010 6:51:39 AM CDT

"Hiya," wrote me with possibly one of the best thought out responses I've ever read. His tact and gift for logical persuasion were truly stunning. After reading his response - NO - his manifesto on internet poise and class, my life was truly altered. I fear that I shall never be the same; I have been changed forever, truly in the same way one may be altered after first reading the works of Shakespeare, or having first heard a Beatles Album. Without further ado, "Hiya" wrote:

"RETARD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Tsk, tsk. You know there's something wrong with you when even Sarah Palin would find your ignorance upsetting. But look! In addition to bigoted pejoritive, "Hiya" included not one, but fourteen exclamation points! That's how you know he truly has conviction in his principles. My response:

Ah, yes. The juvenile anger and frustration of a perennial underdog mixed with the bigotry and ignorance of someone who lives with their head buried up their asses. A true mark of a bandwagoner in need of assistance.

I'm no doctor, but I think it's best for all involved if you rush into my program. It's clearly an emergency. Don't believe me? Look at all those exclamation points you used. Quite serious indeed.

Cash or credit?

May 20, 2010 8:08:52 AM CDT

"Todd" sent me a great response, 2,000 words long. Well, not really. He actually didn't use a single word, but attached two pictures, as follows:

Clever. I truly hope "Todd" paid good money to purchase that jersey and have it custom made. My response:

Thank you for working so hard to prove my point.

Oh, by the way... interesting definition of "sucks." I mean, more Cups in the last 13 years than your team has in its entire 84 year history... seems odd that you would aspire to "suck." But then again, you've yet to experience the transforming power of my Bandwagoner Assistance Program.

May 20, 2010 6:37:08 PM CDT - "Joey"

"yea it would have to be a detroit fan that thinks he is way smarter than the average chicago Moe! Im sry u have to provide services to pay for your ticket ! Maybe u should try backpage you would have better luck! sorry your team didnt make it know u have to suck our blood to feel a stanley cup win ! wow ! Detroit Sucks! Detroit Sucks!

Ur gonna Provide services get some knee pads!"

What is it about email that causes people to stop using actual words? Srsly, bro. ITZ wak! My response:

Hi Joey,

I can see you are really in need of my help! Tell you what... I'll toss in your first lesson for free! When taunting fans of other teams, it's usually good to be consistent. That is, it's unadvised to call someone out for thinking he is smarter than you, and then proceed to prove that fan's point. You see, your point would be much better taken if you could properly spell or capitalize simple words such as "Yeah," "Chicago," "I'm," "sorry," "you," "Sorry," "didn't," "now," "you," "Stanley Cup," "Wow," "You're," "going," "to," and "provide." Further, coherent sentences really help your cause toward this end.

Additionally, it's difficult to have much credibility when attacking an opponent when you declare something like "Detroit Sucks!" For example, if Detroit sucks, then what does that make a team that has been it's bitch for so long?

I hope that you find this lesson particularly beneficial. If you would like more information about hockey, and how to transform your life from a knuckle-dragging, mouth-breathing, shit-kicking, dipshit bandwagoner to first class hockey fan, please let me know!

Great hearing from you!

And finally:

May 21, 2010 8:15:48 AM CDT

Your posting has been flagged for removal.

Indeed. Wouldn't want to offend the good people of Craigslist, or distract them from searching for stolen goods or cheap hookers.

This city is a-buzz with the Blackhawks now. Restaurants who have never had an interest in hockey at all are flying Hawks flags. I've seen far more Hawks sweaters now that the weather is warm than throughout the entire winter (you know... that time of the year when hockey is mostly played.) And all that apparel fits exactly the type of fans adorning them: Brand Spanking New. It's a good time to be a purveyor of Hawks goods... all those "fans" who abandoned the team for so long need to pick up new swag so they can prove to their myspace friends how cool they are.

Yawn. Go Flyers. (ugh... that's hard to stomach)

...is it October yet?