When Cameron Was In Egypt's Land...

Death of a Terrorist

2011-05-02T09:51:00.016-04:00

Shouts of pride echoed long into the night. Hundreds of people ran out of their doors and crowded the city streets. Men and women draped American flags over their shoulders, singing the national anthem and chanting, "USA! USA! USA!" Headlines boasted, "We got him." "We win at last." "US nails the bastard." "Rot in hell." Broadcasters on every news outlet proclaimed it was "history in the making."

I watched news of Osama bin Laden's death explode through Facebook, through Twitter, through CNN and newspapers. Friends posted thoughts of civic pride, happiness, elation. Exclamation points abound. I started my car in the morning and was met with sounds of "America! Fuck Yeah!" - the famous national anthem from the satirical comedy Team America: World Police - on the local sports radio station. The magnitude of the news was overwhelming to just about everyone.

But that's why I write. In the midst of all this joy, this slobbery American love fest, this bubbling enthusiasm about witnessing history, I've never felt so unaffected by something in my life.

And when I say unaffected, that's precisely what I mean. Neutral. Indifferent. Sweden. Po-po-po-poker faced po-po-poker faced.

Don't get me wrong: I understand the importance of this news. Bin Laden was the spark that led our country to war. We wanted to find the man who not only orchestrated the biggest attack on American soil but was also the symbol for terrorism worldwide. He's been damned hard to find for nine years and his capture and death is considered a success for the military. I get that. His death could also strain foreign relations with particular countries and raise fears about the possibility of terrorist revenge. All of this is worth reporting, worth talking about, worth thinking about.

But compared to how I felt as a 13-year-old kid sitting in the middle-school cafeteria on Sept. 11, 2001, this doesn't fit. This news doesn't resonate on the same level as other momentous dates in American history, like Pearl Harbor or the JFK assassination. Maybe I'm ignorant to the significance - it wouldn't be the first time history and I have butted heads and gone our separate ways - but I just can't wrap my head around this nationwide fist-pumping for the death of a terrorist leader.

There are a lot of things that make me proud to be an American citizen. The freedoms to speak our minds and elect chosen leaders. The rights we are given at birth and the many organizations that fight to protect them. The fact that even in the face of intolerance, many people in our country accept and embrace new cultures. The ability to pursue a higher education and the people who are willing to help needy students afford it. The variety of opportunities available in this country, whether you want to fight fires, write a book, start a business, tend a garden, test video games, or even flip burgers at McDonald's. The fact that our country is a democracy and choice is the operative word makes me proud to live here.

There are plenty of ways to spin those things, compare America to other countries or take a turn to negative town, but that's not what I'm getting at. I just don't see a correlation between the news of bin Laden's death and the prideful reaction of the masses. It doesn't add up to me.

I'm not quite in the hippie crowd (How can you celebrate somebody's death, man?) because I understand the pride in winning a war and literally fighting for what's right. But I side more with the Gandhi crowd than any of the bleeding hearts beating their chests today, crowning America "Best Country In The World" all over again.

The news from last night is certainly part of American history; no doubt about that. But if the population wants to call it one of the country's defining moments and greatest successes, our priorities are fucked.

Fun with Google and Presidents

2011-02-21T21:38:00.017-05:00

Happy Presidents' Day! It's yet another of our nation's fake holidays that gives some people the day off and others the jealous impulse to punch those that get the day off. In spirit, I decided to do my civic duty by researching our founding fathers with the most advanced search technology we have at our fingertips today: Google Instant Search.

Google Instant Search is a tool that can lead you to where you're going in a fast, instantaneous way. It brings up the most popular searches of the letters you are typing as soon as you type them, which is great if you want to check the weather or movie showtimes in your area. Boom, it's there. Instantly. Sweet! But Google Instant Search also reveals our nation's stupidity. Our huge, pulsating stupidity that only gets worse as technology advances.

So here's what I did: I took every president's name and typed it into Google by phrasing it as a question. "Is (president's name) ...." and waited for my instant searches to pop up.

Several presidents with lackluster terms or unfortunately long names (I'm looking at you, William Henry Harrison) revealed nothing, except that our population rarely searches for them. But looking for a few of the notable presidents brought forth some hilarious, racist and damned homophobic results (click images to enlarge):

I wasn't shocked that Obama's ethnicity, moral core and sexual orientation were questioned, but it turned out to be a pretty interesting trend...

HE FREED THE SLAVES! HE MUST HAVE BEEN A GAY BLACK DEMOCRAT!

I WAS RAISED ON PROMISES THAT JAMES BUCHANAN WAS A STRAIGHT MAN! I'M LIVING IN A WORLD OF LIES!

It seems like everybody looking for presidents wants to know two things: whether they're black and whether they're gay. We seriously need to start taking away the deep south's computer privileges.

But of course, there's still one president they'll never question...

He still might be black though...or one of those hippy vegan types. Daggum sunofabitch.

Writer's Anxiety

2011-02-20T18:11:00.010-05:00

When it comes to this blog, it seems that you really shouldn't listen to anything I say. I promise consistent posts about the Red Wings and fall through after a few weeks; I promise running installments of stories and usually let those endeavors down after a single post, maybe two. It all comes down to the fact that when you write every day for a living, it's damned hard to want to do it in your free time. So take this first post in more than two months as a sign of things to come: I'm going to write here whenever I can muster the energy and have something to write about, two things that don't always happen together.

But tonight I catch myself thinking more and more about the upcoming insanity trial of Christopher Gribble, who has admitted to his role in the murder of Kimberly Cates and the near-fatal maiming of her 11-year-old daughter at the family's home in Mont Vernon - a 30 minute drive from Nashua - back in August 2009. The main villain in the case, Steven Spader, was convicted in November for the crime on his 19th birthday and received the gift of life in prison, plus another 76 years to life.

His cohort, Gribble, is 21 years old and has admitted his guilt. Now he's trying to plead insanity. I've been called on to cover his trial. Jury selection starts a week from tomorrow.

The case is brutal. Four teenage boys broke into a small-town home in the middle of the night and walked by the light of an iPod into the room of a sleeping woman, who they then proceeded to hack to death with a machete. The random nature of the crime, with a seeming lack of any motivation, compares chillingly with the story of In Cold Blood, a nonfiction book written by Truman Capote. And that's what scares me about covering this thing.

In Cold Blood is one of my favorite books. Capote is an incredible writer and he told a gruesome story in the most compelling way imaginable. But the story changed him, played with his emotions for years. I don't plan on writing a book about the Mont Vernon case, and I sure as hell don't plan on speaking with Gribble or Spader personally. But I fear that I'll see images I don't want to see and I'll hear stories I don't want to hear. I'll spend hours upon hours, day after day, in a courtroom where a man's sanity is called into question for a horrifying murder.

The pressure of the situation is a different fear - every news outlet in New England will be covering the trial and my stories will be on the front page for two weeks - and brings a different set of challenges. But those I know I can face. I know I can write front-page caliber for two weeks straight that rival those of other reporters. What I don't know is how my psyche will react to the appalling details of the murder or how I'll handle my emotions at the end of the day or if my stomach and my nerves will ever settle the same way they do now.

I know this is a unique opportunity for my writing career, and in some small ways I'm grateful for it. But all I hope for is to be the same person I've always been when it's all over. My vacation to Spain starts on March 11, when I'll finally be reunited with my amazing girlfriend right in the middle of her semester abroad. I can't wait for that day; I just hope I'm the same Cam when I jump into her arms.

10 Things I'd Say to My Kid

2010-12-02T22:08:00.011-05:00

Yes, I've missed eight installments of Cam's Hat Trick. But judging from a lack of raging comments, I'm going to guess you simply take your Red Wings reading elsewhere whenever I succumb to laziness or a broken computer. Either way, I'm going to try and get back on the horse even though I rarely get to see any games and make most of my judgments on highlights. It's a handicap you'll have to accept if you visit Egypt's Land.

So what'd I miss? Well, the Wings won six and lost two. They're awesome and way better than your team. Enough said. I'll have a Hat Trick for you tomorrow night following the Wings and Ducks game.

But you came here for new content. I've got that in spades.

Bill Simmons is a popular writer on ESPN. He's great; I like his style, but too often he focuses on basketball and Boston sports - two topics I really could care less about. Sometimes though, he melds his personal life with sports and his column really hits home for me. Wednesday's piece was just that.

He wrote about his five-year-old daughter's envy of an opposing team's uniforms, which were purple and gold - the colors of the Los Angeles Lakers and nemesis of Simmons' beloved Boston Celtics. When he asked her what she thought about green uniforms, she said she HATED green, emphasized with a grimace.

Now, they were just soccer uniforms in a youth league, but Simmons' quick mind immediately flew to the worst-case scenario.

When she's in the ninth grade, I can't have some senior showing up with a Gasol beard, a USC hat and an SUV shaking my hand and saying that they're "just going out for a bite to eat," only he's going to have that barely perceptible, "I've felt your daughter's boobs before, and I'm going to do it again tonight" smirk on his face, followed by me stabbing him to death and serving the mandatory sentence.

I can see myself in a similar situation, should my future daughter ever choose a man with Buckeye allegiances or a Crosby crush. My immediate thought was simple and emphatic:

Oh. My. Christ.

I can't let that happen. So, as Simmons points out in his final paragraphs, a powerful tool can be your parental influence when the child is young - even if that means lying.

So here are 10 little lies I'd tell my future child. With any luck, they'll help my son or daughter see red and think Red Wings, not Buckeyes.

"Remember Mr. McGregor, the bad man from all the cute Peter Rabbit stories you love? He grows Buckeyes in his garden. Then all the little bunnies die."
"Yep, an asteroid killed the dinosaurs. They say it came from Pittsburgh."
"Of course it exists. The fire swamp's just over in Colorado. That place is rife with ROUSs."
"Why did Scar kill Mufasa? Well, it's because he had a Notre-Dame education, honey."
"The Blackhawks are the Indian tribe that started slavery."
"Ohio State scientists captured the Berenstain Bears and did experiments on them."
"Oh, don't cry! Captain Hook's not real. He won't come take you away. But Patrick Roy might."
"Everyone in the world believed in Santa Claus until Eli Manning said something."
"Snape? No, no no. You're thinking of Sidney Crosby. He's the one who killed Dumbledore."
"Without Steve Yzerman, you'd never get any Christmas presents. Or birthdays."

Seems harmless enough to me. I see no future ramifications. Leave your own manipulative lies in the comments!

Cam's Hat Trick: Spilled.

2010-11-11T22:18:00.005-05:00

Game #14: Red Wings 6, Oilers 2

One: I hate not having Center Ice. I love listening to games on the radio, but the NHL seems to have done away with that free feature too. Anyway, so I missed tonight's game and couldn't watch any web feeds because my internet was spotty. All you Wings Tweeters had me salivating for highlights, but I had to settle for this crap:

Hockey's not nearly as fun to watch with only little S, H and G bubbles that pop up after every shot, hit or goal. In fact, it's pretty lame, which totally sucks since this game sounded like it was a lot of fun to watch. What game isn't when the Wings score six goals? Wish I coulda seen it. Instead I had to choose between Yzerman's Wrath against the Capitals or the Bruins-Habs on the local station here. Blah. At least the NHL uploads their game highlights super quickly. Oh, wait. Thanks Gary.

Two: The Bulin Wall crumbles. The Wings were great, as far as I could tell from NHL on the Fly, but most of their goals were pretty weak. Fil's opener was awesome, but both of Cleary's and Homer's goals could have been stopped. All good shots and great, tough plays, but I have to think the score would have been different if a 37-year-old drunk Russian wasn't in goal for the Oil. But I'll take it for 10 wins in 14 games. This team is awesome. Built for June. I can taste it.

Three: This new NHL All-Star Game format idea is awesome. There's always been so much argument over East vs. West, America vs. World, etc. But this puts it up to the players. Name two captains and let them pick who they want on their team. Awesome. While I hate the idea of any Red Wings playing against each other - certainly a possibility - I'm pumped to see the pros pick sides like a street game. The only way they could make it better is if they all put their sticks in a big pile at center ice before the game and picked teams that way. Any bets on who gets picked last? Every on the team will be on All-Star, but I'd say the biggest off-ice assholes might get the shaft. Corey Perry? Chris Pronger? I'd love to see Rosby get the honor and watch his goofy grin fade away like Brady Quinn's on draft day in 2007. No matter what, it'll be awesome. Captain Nick takes Dats or Z first. Calling it now.

Next up: Red Wings vs. Avalanche, Nov. 13 at 7 p.m. I'm sick of hearing about the young, plucky Avs and how they're on the up and up. Let's lay waste to 'em at home and snag another couple points. Go Wings.

Four-in-One Super Trick!

2010-11-08T22:04:00.001-05:00

Game #10: Red Wings 2, Flames 1

Game #11: Red Wings 3, Oilers 1
Game #12: Red Wings 4, Canucks 6
Game #13: Red Wings 3, Coyotes 2

One: I know that picture is old, simple and has a ridiculously poor choice of background color, but I was Googling for Red Wings images and found that one. The Wings didn't even play the Ducks and don't until next month, but it made me laugh. Done. Anyway, so I've been away. And the Wings kept playing without me, the bastards. Seems as though they played pretty well though. This is a total waste of an observation. Wait! Lee Stempniak is a dick. Comment salvaged.

Two: Justin Abdelkader. The Afrogator is smart, he works hard and he has so much talent. I love having him on this team. He's a huge reason why the Wings won the first couple games against Calgary and Edmonton, and I think he'll continue to play instead of Hudler even if he's less talented. Hudler just doesn't bring it the same way Abby does. Not every night. Him and Helm, they just outwork you. They are perfect examples of heart over talent. Everyone wants a guy or two like that on their team. The Wings have a roster full of 'em.

Three: Yes, I'm going to be slightly lame and only give three things about four different games. From the highlights, the Wings looked great in the first two games. They played sound defense with some timely scoring and came out with a couple big wins. I would have bet a ton of money that Detroit would drop the Canucks game, seeing as it was their toughest game of the three in Canada and without any rest. If the Wings had enough gas in the third period, they would have swept the whole trip. Oh well. I'm just happy they scored four on Luongo. I don't care what time of year it is; that game alone proves to me he doesn't have what it takes to win the big one. And yes, I can make that kind of outlandish, broad statement about one of the league's best goaltenders despite not seeing a second of his play on Saturday. I stand by my point. He's a quieter, slightly more playoff-successful version of Nabokov. Sure, he won gold at the Olympics last year, but that competition is nothing like the NHL playoffs. One-and-done elimination compared to best-of-seven play. Not even similar. The Canucks are awesome as a team, but there's a reason they have lost to inferior Chicago teams both of the past two years: Luongo. And now that I've said all that he'll probably have 16 shutouts and win the Conn Smythe, judging from my wonderfully prescient Cup prediction based on dislike last year.

Next up: Red Wings vs. Oilers, Nov. 11 at 7:30 p.m. Do we really have to play these guys again? Fiiiine.

Cam's Hat Trick: Winner Winner

2010-10-31T00:14:00.004-04:00

Game #9: Red Wings 5, Predators 2

One: Home unis. I absolutely loved the decision to bring back the home whites for this game. If it's up to the team every game, they should just buck the league trend/rules and play in their whites all the time. Not that I have anything against the gorgeous reds on the road, but there's just something awesome about the Wings in white. Reminds me of '97 and Stevie lifting that Cup for the city. Great memories.

Two: Central Division statement. So far, the Wings have dominated the Hawks and the Preds in their only divisional games this year. Those are supposedly the top two teams to challenge the Wings for the Central crown. I don't care if it's early; I love that the Wings are making a statement to their "rivals" and setting the tone for a great year. They have the best talent in the best division in the league. I'd say that puts them above everything else. Put on your white gloves, Cup people. Start engraving.

Three: Bad journalism. I just couldn't let this slide when I'm reporting on small town local news and some person out there gets to cover all the Red Wings games for the Associated Press. Here's the lead from tonight's story, found on ESPN.com:

DETROIT -- Usually a set-up man, Pavel Datsyuk has suddenly turned into quite a goal scorer.

Datsyuk had two goals and an assist to lift the Detroit Red Wings to a 5-2 victory over the Nashville Predators on Saturday night.

Seriously? I know hockey recap writers love to use the one-liners to open up a very plain game story (because they're essentially the same format every single fucking time), but this is unacceptable. Pav is a set-up man, but he's also been one of the flashiest goal scorers in this league for several years. Apparently, this idiot didn't do his/her homework. Shame on you.

Next up: Red Wings at Flames, Nov. 3 at 9:30 p.m. This game, along with the following two games against the Oilers and Canucks, will make for a tricky situation. I'm spending next weekend at Penn State to visit a few friends and catch a football game, so it's possible three games could pass before I get a chance to Hat Trick them all. So expect either a bigger summary next Sunday night or perhaps a four-game combo post following their game against the Coyotes on Nov. 8. Either way, Go Wings.

Cam's Hat Trick: Ugly

2010-10-28T23:59:00.006-04:00

Game #8: Red Wings 2, Coyotes 4

One: Goaltending. Ozzie was terrible, like seriously atrocious in the first. I assume he must have some sort of brain injury because that shorthanded goal to put the Coyotes up 3-0 in the first was the worst thing I've ever seen. To his credit, he played well in the second and third periods to keep the Wings in it and give them a chance to pull off the comeback. But his shockingly awful opening frame cost the Wings the game.

Two: Slow start. The Wings were lazy in the first and sorely missed Brian Rafalski on the blueline. Kindl was undressed by Vrbata on the first goal. Keith Yandle picked the corner on the second when the Wings took a stupid penalty. Then no one chased down Lauri Korpikoski (supposedly a man) on the third goal and he put a soft wrister past Ozzie's near pad. All of it could have been avoided with a little more focus in the first, and maybe the Wings could've won this game.

Three: I have nothing else to say. This game sucked. And Lauri Korpikoski needs to change his name. Or leave it for excessive verbal abuse. In fact, I kind of like that second option.

Next up: Red Wings vs. Predators, Oct. 30 at 7 p.m. Let's kick these southern bastards in the teeth. Never liked their existence and never will. Why even bother with hockey in Nashville? Sell 'em to Quebec. Go Wings.

Cam's Hat Trick: Just Ducky

2010-10-24T20:10:00.006-04:00

Game #7: Red Wings 5, Ducks 4

One: Pavel Datsyuk. Need I say more?

Two: Deflections. An amazing one by Tomas Holmstrom tied the game at four and a couple great redirections by Zetterberg brought the Wings back into it. I admit that I don't watch many other NHL games and teams, but it would be hard for me to believe anyone else in the NHL is as talented at deflecting and redirecting the puck past goalies as the Wings. The tying tally by Homer through McIlwhatever's legs was awesome. I'll never understand how a guy with such soft touch with his back to the net has absolutely no awareness or skill when facing it.

Three: Standings. Since I didn't see the game and can't offer too much comment on it, I'll take a general look at where this win puts the Wings. First. Yeah. In the league. Only seven games in and they have five wins. Sounds pretty good to me. Pittsburgh and Chicago are there too, but they've played more games without any additional success. Believe me, I'm not getting ahead of myself. It's been seven games. But I've seen enough hockey to know what it means for the Wings to get off to a hot start and get the chemistry rolling. A good October bodes well for June.

Next up: Red Wings vs. Coyotes, Oct. 28 at 7 p.m. Somehow I thought the Wings were playing the Ducks twice in a row. Instead, they get the Coyotes for the second time this month.

Cam's Hat Trick: Dousing the Flames.

2010-10-21T21:58:00.003-04:00

Game #6: Red Wings 4, Flames 2

One: The Great Datsyuk. His magic was on full display again tonight, setting up Zetterberg's goal with an amazing backhand pass and then Lidstrom's powerplay tally with a ridiculous display of tic-tac-toe stickwork. It honestly looks like he's fooling around by himself on the ice sometimes, deftly swinging the puck around and tapping it over and under opponents' sticks just for fun. There's no other player like him. I refuse to believe there ever has been or ever will be. (By the way, I must have a copy of that shirt. It's fantastic. Combines my love of The Prestige and the hockey magician himself. Gift ideas anyone? I like the slate color.)

Two: Jiiiimmy Jimmy Jimmah. Have I mentioned how much I like this kid? He's an awesome goalie. He kept the Wings in the game for the first two periods and backstopped the team to a win in the third. I've been trained to have doubts about the Wings' goaltending, except for the magical year with Dom in 2002, and this year is no exception. But I'm coming around fast with Howard in goal. He really steps up and makes big saves when the team needs it. Plus he's an awesome guy. One of those goalies who would never lift the Cup and take it home with him if he had nothing to do with the team that won it. Right? Oh. Damn. Well I'd do it too if I had the chance.

Three: I'd love to say I had three separate thoughts about this game not about Pavel Datsyuk, but I didn't. My mind was slobbering over Dats pretty much the whole time. Well, except for Franzen's awesome goal in the third that he banked off Kiprusoff's head from no angle and the puck rolled down Kipper's shoulder. That was amazing. And Bertuzzi's clincher in the top corner. Sweet. But no, this spot will be for Detroit commercials. I don't live in the area, so I can't usually watch the Wings on FSN-Detroit. But with Center Ice being free for the month of October, I caught the game on God's favorite channel and was able to watch many Michigan commercials. The Pure Michigan ad with Stevie Y chomping on an apple, the new Dr. Rahmani Eye Doctor spot with Lidstrom and my personal favorite: the Red Wings team commercial with Babcock, Osgood, Franzen, and Datsyuk. Hilarious. Almost makes me want to pony up the cash to watch Center Ice and FSN-Detroit all year long.

Next up: Red Wings vs. Ducks, Oct. 23 at 7 p.m. I won't be watching, but I'll have the Hat Trick up by Sunday night once again. This is the second of three match-ups the Wings have against the Ducks this month. Odd scheduling, but I love to hate the Ducks. Let's do it.

Cam's Hat Trick: Badgerbadgerbadgers

2010-10-18T00:01:00.002-04:00

Game #5: Red Wings 2, Coyotes 1

One: Kronwall. I only saw the highlights, but if the Wings didn't score in the five-minute overtime period with TWO four-on-three powerplays they deserved to be docked a few points in the standings. Thankfully, some great passing and a nice shot by Kronner ended the game.

Two: Jimmy Howard. The kid's still playing great to start the year. Except for a few softies to the Avalanche, I'm starting to come around to the idea that this guy from Maine is going to be Detroit's starting goalie and the next one to win a Cup for the franchise. His talent is real. I can't wait for him to prove it in April, May and June.

Three: Wisconsin football! Yes, this is a Red Wings recap. No, this is not a Red Wings comment. But I didn't see the Wings game so I have little to say about it, and everyone wins when Ohio State loses. That's not even my rule; it's the word of the Lord.

Next up: Red Wings vs. Flames, Oct. 21 at 7 p.m. Sweet? It's hard to get excited for the Flames. Oh well. Go Wings!

Latres on the menjay. What did I just say?

2010-10-14T23:19:00.017-04:00

A good journalist must have balance. The job requires writing ability, curiosity, sharp judgment, a quick mind, and an affinity for extra-strength coffee. Black.

Many of those things are picked up or learned in school. Professors correct and guide writing styles, help develop a student's inquiring mind and conduct classes at 8 a.m. (thus planting an early addiction to life's perky poision).

But one thing they don't teach you -- and it's an essential part of a journalist's daily work -- is the ability to answer, talk and leave messages on the telephone.

You have to pick that up talent on your own. And most of the time, the only way to get better is to fuck it up royally. Over and over and over again.

Think about the last time you called someone you've never met, or even someone you barely know. Maybe it's your friend's friend selling you his old couch for cheap or a cute girl whose number you snagged over drinks on a rainy Saturday. No matter who it is, the conversation is awkward.

Remember "I Love You, Man"? Paul Rudd plays an graceless character that seems exaggerated, but he's more normal than you think. Here's his first phone message to Jason Segel, the man behind his budding bromance.

Reporters make those kinds of calls and leave those kinds of messages anywhere from two to ten times for every one of the ten to twenty stories they write per week. It's a recipe for disaster.

Now, any journalist who's been at the job for more than an hour knows it's not that extreme. But it can be close. I've had bad days where I mumble my name into complete ambiguity, lose my line of thinking for five full seconds of silence or sound just as ridiculous as Rudd when he ends his message.

And it doesn't help that the people you're calling generally don't want to call you back. It interrupts their day, and reporters make people skittish. The second they hear "Hi, my name is Cameron Kittle and I'm a reporter with the Nashua Telegraph," their mind jumps to a grouchy, inconsiderate bulldog whose only goal in life is to make fun of your age and misquote you with libelous remarks. Some nerve he's got, calling me at three in the afternoon with questions about the recent heat wave...

So, not only is it your responsibility to try and avoid awkwardness, but you have to actually be genuinely interested enough in their collection of 400 dolls to make them like you and return your call. You also have to be quick to summarize your point, slow to relay your contact information and clear to enunciate properly.

This is all if the call goes smoothly. But shit goes haywire in a newsroom more often than not, and you can end up dialing one person and be transferred to four others in a single call. And don't expect any of the transfer-senders to inform the transfer-receivers (that would make way too much sense), so you'll have to repeat what you just said multiple times while your fellow employees stifle laughter as you're yanked around again and again.

It might sound like a minefield for rookies only, but it can be even worse when seasoned veterans switch jobs. Take the young guy who sits behind me for example. He worked in Masschusetts for a few years, just long enough to render his brain nearly incapable of improvisation. Nearly a month into the new job, I could still hear him fumbling his words at the end of a message:

"...and if you could give me a call back that'd be great. Once again this is Jake Berry at the Nashua Telegraph, and my number is 508-862--oh that's not right. I'm sorry..*awkward laughs*.. I'm still new. The number here is...*shuffling papers*...I'm sorry. You can reach me at 603-594-4108. Hope to hear from you!"

Annnd scene. Ouch. Maybe it doesn't sound that bad to you, but an eagle-eye newsroom camera would show every reporter seize up in the shoulders and cringe at Jake's struggle. But it's not his fault; it's a problem with routine.

Reporters leave so many messages and say their phone numbers so many times, it becomes cemented in the brain. Changing that after a few years would be like adding digits to your social security number and trying to say it backwards on the first try.

It might sound easy, but phone calls can sometimes be a reporter's biggest hurdle. Stumble out of the gate and you might be looking at a bad story, but master the art and you could see your byline in the New York Times. Of course, you'll still need all that writing and interviewing and coffee stuff, too.

Cam's Hat Trick: Blech. That was ugly.

2010-10-14T22:58:00.004-04:00

Game #4: Red Wings 1, Stars 4

One: Turnovers. The Red Wings looked sloppy in every period, making bad passes and not controlling the puck. No one was exempt; even Captain Nick made a no-look pass in the first that was absurdly stupid and almost turned into a goal. I've watched the Wings for many years, and it's pretty rare when they put together a full 60-minute stinker like they did here. Just a lack of concentration all around. Oh, and Ozzie sucked.

Two: Posts. Datsyuk made a great move and dangled one off the crossbar in the first that would have tied the game, and Hudler rang another off the bar in the second. If both those shots go the Wings' way, I think it's a whole different game. It just seemed like the team couldn't generate any momentum, and an early goal before the Stars put the game away would have helped keep them in it.

Three: Road announcers. I don't live in the Detroit area, so I had to watch this game on NHL Network via FSN Southwest. I won't bother to look up the names of the idiots in charge of the play-by-play, but man, they were bad. Whether it was describing a player's actions as "corrupt" when he was called for a penalty or lauding Kari Lehtonen's play when he was, at best, a combination of awful and lucky, these Dallas guys had no clue what they were talking about. Play-by-play is a tough gig, so I can't say I'd do much better on the spot. But I'd venture to say I knew more about hockey when I was 10 years old than these guys do now.

Next up: Red Wings at Coyotes, Oct. 16 at 9 p.m. Rematch of last year's playoff series. Should be a good one. I won't be watching because I'm going to watch Michigan play UNH in what should be an awesome college hockey game, but I'll have the Hat Trick up by Sunday night. Go Wings!

Cam's Hat Trick: I hate you, Brandon Yip

2010-10-12T21:55:00.005-04:00

Game #3: Red Wings 4, Avalanche 5

One: Kirk Maltby. Yep, the guy didn't play in this game. But for any longtime Red Wings fan, you know he deserves some recognition on the night he finally hangs up his skates. He retired this afternoon to take a scouting job with the team instead of play another year mostly in the minors. It's too bad, but he's just not good enough to make the roster anymore. The grinders made in his image are younger, faster, better. But that doesn't mean we don't all remember that Sports Illustrated cover in 1997, that back-and-forth goal with Joey Kocur against Philly in those '97 Finals, or the countless penalties he killed. It's sad to see him retire, but it was time. Thanks for everything, Malts. You were awesome.

Two: Pavel Datsyuk and Henrik Zetterberg. These guys are fucking magic together. Prepare for me to slobber over them way too many times this season. Whenever they're on the ice I'm ready for a goal. Their beauty in the second period was too easy. There's no other duo in the NHL that is as in sync as the Euro Twins. If Hank wasn't married to ungodly gorgeous Emma Andersson and Dats wasn't with his wife, whoever she is, I swear these two would be as good together as George and Mary Bailey.

Three: Doug Janik. Ugh. Please go away. Damn you, Rafalski's knee. I don't know if I can stand extended time with this guy on the ice. It's like Lilja, but worse.

Next up: Red Wings at Stars, Oct. 14 at 8:30 p.m. This game is on NHL Network, which makes me happy because that makes two nights this week Red Wing nights.

On a side note, I love watching a sport that gets over in two and a half hours with limited commercials. Not any of this all-afternoon football junk or forever-and-a-day playoff baseball. Exactly why hockey is my favorite.

Cam's Hat Trick: Get used to it, Chicago

2010-10-10T01:11:00.003-04:00

Game #2: Red Wings 3, Blackhawks 2

One: Second-line scoring. Valtteri Filppula had two goals and Goon Bertuzzi had another as the Wings flew past the Hawks to ruin their opening night and their Stanley Cup banner ceremony. Filppula needs to step up and have a productive, healthy year to keep the Wings in it until the end and a game like this is a good start. His winner was a fluky one, but I'll take it. Nice way to jump on Chicago early in the season and grab two quick wins on opening weekend.

Two: Oh, Marty Turco. I loved you so much as the championship-winning goalie for the Michigan Wolverines back in their late-90s glory days and I was able to not hate you on the Stars, but this new deal you've got with the Hawks has soured me. Well, in fact it's made me very happy in that you can't stop any piece of black rubber sent from the stick of a Red Wings player (Turco is something like 1-2,000 against the Wings all-time), but I'm conflicted in that it makes me a teensy bit sad to see you suffer. But Wings over Wolverines, so I must root for your demise. Thank you for signing with the Blackhawks. The whole Wings faithful is forever grateful.

Three: Bittersweet Chicagoans. I love that the Wings ruined their home opener and the banner raising ceremony with a hard-fought victory. Enjoy that banner while you can, Hawks fans. You're not getting another this year. I'm not going to say it'll be another 49 years, but you have nothing close to what it takes to repeat in this league. Here starts your slow painful ride back to second place in the Central, where you belong.

Next up: Red Wings vs. Avalanche, Oct. 12 at 7 p.m. Back to the old rivalry. Another good one on tap and hopefully the first game of the season that I'll get to watch live. Let's get Jimmy another shutout! Yes, I realize I just jinxed it and the Avs will probably score a minute in, but whatever. Go Wings.

New Wings, New Ways

2010-10-08T23:49:00.005-04:00

It's been a while since the Detroit Red Wings have held a strong presence on this blog, and that just doesn't sit well with me.

See, I have two followings of this blog (both of which are astronomically small): One that loves the Red Wings and wants to read endless words about their awesomeness, and one that cares nothing about the Red Wings but happens to like me as a person and wants to read my writing or what's going on in my life.

So, I've always tried to do a little of both to keep both camps happy (again, these camps barely need to split a single tent) but recently, I've strayed away from the Red Wings stuff. I don't put as much effort into writing about them as I used to, and my posts often come out quite inferior to much of the A2Ys and Triple Dekes and Snip e Snipe, Dangle Dangles of the Wings blogosphere.

I have always wanted to do something consistent throughout the season, but time commitments and laziness have always thrown a wrench into my plans. This year though, I think I have it.

Cam's Hat Trick.

It will be short, it will be sweet, it will follow every Red Wings game. And it won't affect how much I blog about other subjects, although that doesn't say a whole lot. Anyway, I'll still be trying to write about both.

Now, I can't see into the future and promise that I will hit all 82 regular season games, but I'm going to try. So if you want some quick thoughts, quirky observations or completely biased reviews, I will have three following each game. Even on nights when I can't watch, I'll bring you a fresh edition of Cam's Hat Trick based on what I read and saw on the highlight reels.

That's all I will promise for now, as the idea just came to me. ~~It's really just a watered down version of the Triple Deke's game recaps~~ It's going to be awesome. And with that, here we go:

Game #1: Red Wings 4, Ducks 0

One: Pavel Datsyuk getting in a fight with Corey Perry was awesome. My favorite player holding his own against one of my least favorite players in the league...just beautiful to watch. I still can't believe The Great Datsyuk finally decided to drop the gloves and I wasn't there to catch it live. But I watched it many times on replay, and I'm glad to see Dats got some punches in. The Dangle Master also had a great deflection goal and an assist before he completed the Gordie Howe Hat Trick with this fight in the second period. It's an awesome way to start the season, and it gets him the first nod in the opening edition of Cam's Hat Trick.

Two: Mike Modano scores a goal on his first shot as a Wing. A fluttering puck that floated past Jonas Hiller isn't anything to get excited about, but his presence was clearly felt. The guy is excited, the guy is motivated, the guy looks fuckin' good in red. I've been on the Mo2Motown bandwagon since the first whisper rumors emerged, and I'm so psyched to see one of my favorite former non-Wings finishing his career with the greatest franchise in the world. Very happy to see he had a good game and picked up his first goal tonight.

Three: Jimmy Howard stopped every puck that came his way and kicked off his sophomore season with a great effort. Sure, it was only 21 shots and it was the Ducks, but he showed no jitters and made every play he had to make. I really like this young kid, even if he's a former Maine Black Bear. This strong opening win will be good for his confidence and I hope he can keep it going tomorrow night against the hated 'Hawks. Speaking of which...

Next up: Red Wings at Blackhawks, Oct. 9. at 8:30 p.m. We have to watch those bastards raise their Cup banner, but hopefully we can spoil their fun and take another step toward reclaiming the division crown.

Did the little piggy really cry wee wee wee all the way home?

2010-09-14T01:24:00.008-04:00

Three years ago, the Educational Farm at Joppa Hill thrived. It reported $105,000 in revenue in 2007, and executive director Lin L’Heureux said she even received donation checks by mail.

But since the recession hit, the farm has fallen. No sign was more depressing than the most recent anonymous donation: a bag of old hamburger buns left on L’Heureux’s doorstep last week.

“Things are worse than they’ve ever been since I’ve been here,” L’Heureux said, who started working at the Educational Farm when Bedford bought the land about five years ago. The farm is a nonprofit organization and has been a huge part of the community since it started providing summer farm camps for kids.

Mark Hayner, treasurer for the farm, said the organization has only $2,300 available in the bank, and it takes at least $4,000 to cover a single month of the 35-acre farm’s operating costs.

All current bills have been paid, he said Monday, but the farm could end the year with a $12,000 deficit and only $60,000 in total revenue – a 43 percent drop since 2007.

“We can’t spend more money than we bring in,” Hayner said, “but we still have costs that we can’t eliminate.”

The farm’s expenses include heat for the animals, electricity to run the milking equipment, insurance for the animals, buildings and payroll for the farm’s only employee, L’Heureux, who gets paid for 28 hours each week but says she logs nearly 60.

L’Heureux said it would be a “tragedy” if the farm were forced to close. Hayner said the possibility is real.

“We have a lot of dedicated people who love the farm, but we’re all in a little bit of denial,” Hayner said. “As the person responsible for the finances, I have to let them know the situation is dire.”

L’Heureux hopes one of the farm’s big fundraisers, the Fall Fair, on Sept. 26, will delay the farm’s concerns for a few weeks, but the reality of the problem is harsh: There’s just not enough income coming in or enough money in the bank to keep the farm going as it stands now.

“The things that we would need to make a financial plan come to life require capital investments that we don’t currently have,” Hayner said.

He said the majority of the farm’s revenue comes from its summer camp, where kids ages 4-11 come for a week and get hands-on experiences while learning about farming, ecology, conservation and veterinary care.

But as enrollment numbers, grants and donations all continue to dwindle in the tough economic conditions, Hayner and L’Heureux aren’t sure where to turn for help.

Hayner said in the past, the Educational Farm has used their good relationship with their creditors as an advantage.

“They’ve allowed us to float in the winter the past couple of years when we don’t have any income,” he said. “We tell them we’ll repay our debt in the springtime, and they’ve allowed us to do that.

“But we can’t keep living on the good graces of our creditors. We need to find places for the animals. We need to have an exit plan.”

The farm’s board of directors met Sept. 2 with members of the community to develop ideas on how the farm could be saved, but Hayner said even the best ideas won’t create quick cash flow. He said the group of Bedford High School students who volunteered to start a club connected to the farm could help bring in more money through fundraisers or public exposure.

“People start to recognize the value of things when it’s the young people who start bringing it to light,” he said.

Hayner mentioned that there are other ideas to generate additional income, including selling ice cream at the farm, but he said the farm doesn’t have the money to buy new equipment or services to make those ideas tangible.

Right now, the farm’s only source of income in the winter is its raw milk program, which L’Heureux said offers some relief. The farm sells about 35 gallons a week to local customers, but sometimes those numbers can drop even further if the cows don’t produce enough milk or if the loyal customers don’t return every week. Horseback riding lessons also run throughout the fall until the ground freezes for winter.

“It’s a treasure,” said Pelham volunteer Jessica Edwards. “Kids don’t see cows, sheep and horses on a regular basis. It’s educational to see conservation in action.”

L’Heureux said the farm still needs help every day and budgets 14 volunteer shifts per week for people who come before or after work to feed the animals or milk the cows.

At the farm, there are horses, goats, sheep, cows, chickens and a 1,000-pound pig named China that was adopted after spending much of his young life trapped in a closet at a Boston-area Chinese restaurant.

She said a handful of the dedicated volunteers are developmentally disabled adults, including a man named Ray who visits regularly to clean out the chicken coops. She said working on the farm can be a huge help for adults who can’t hold a regular job due to their disability.

“It gives them an opportunity to get good exercise while working outside in the fresh air and immediate gratification because when you leave, you can see what you’ve done to help these animals,” L’Heureux said.

She said the Educational Farm at Joppa Hill offers something that locals can’t find in any of the surrounding towns.

“There are all sorts of camps,” L’Heureux said, “but not a lot of farm camps. The whole idea of playing outside is gone.”

Last Thursday, Sarah Ray, 4, and her sister Ana, 2, visited the farm with their nanny and happily fed the goats and cows. Victoria Plumpton, 26, of Manchester, watches over the two sisters and often brings them to the farm on Thursdays because the young girls always ask to go.

“The girls love to come here,” Plumpton said. “I think it would be a big loss if Joppa Hill was gone.”

L’Heureux said she really has no idea how to save the farm. She said it comes down to help from the community and the economy. If it turns around, she could see that moldy bag of hamburger buns transform back into donation checks. If not, the outlook remains bleak.

“If we don’t get any help, the farm will continue to deteriorate,” L’Heureux said. “The animals would all have to be placed in other farms. It would be really sad."

Story can also be found on the Telegraph website, here.

Planet Fitness: A Grammar-Free Zone

2010-09-01T20:03:00.021-04:00

I joined Planet Fitness two months ago. It's been a great place to run and work out after my day shift, and even during the busiest times I have no trouble finding an open treadmill. It only costs a pocket of change per day, and I get free haircuts to boot from the stylist on staff. Yes, you read that right. I get free haircuts from my gym. I could even look like the Danish Danny Zuko over here if I asked for it.

Overall, it's been a great experience. The best I could ask for out of a gym. It's open all day and all night from Monday to Friday and has reasonable hours on the weekends.

But there's one tiny thing that has been driving me crazy for weeks now, and I finally decided to write about it.

See, Planet Fitness has this idea in mind where anyone in the world can come to their gyms. They attract the sharks that bite through a bench press and the whales who come up for air walking two on the treadmill.

It's an honorable venture. It works, too. I like going to a gym where most people are there to stay healthy or lose a few pounds. It's a positive atmosphere. And their motto reflects that:

Planet Fitness, the Judgement Free Zone.

They even copyrighted the phrase. (Probably because if you say judgement-free zone, it's supposed to have a dash because judgement-free is acting as a compound adjective, and they don't want to deal with the mess of proper grammar hence their own copyrighted version, the bastards).

And part of that judgement-free zone is trying to keep the body builders quiet and respectful. The big guys who GTL like (insert Guido name here) are still welcome at Planet Fitness, but only if they don't grunt, heave their weights to the floor or "judge" others.

If they do, an alarm goes off. There are sensors in the floor and supposedly something else that picks up on excessive noise. The alarm is a loud wavy noise, sort of like what you hear at some hockey rinks when a period ends.

And Planet Fitness has their own name for it: the lunk alarm.

But that's not what irks me. They can have whatever gimmicky noises they want while I'm there; I'm blastin' Empire State of Mind over and over again. I'm jammin' out mahn, with mah bass.

No, my problem is the definition for their made-up word and the ridiculous sentence they have beneath it.

As you can see from the photo, it's not at all Planet Fitness locations, but here's what it says at the one in Nashua:

Lunk (lunk) n. [slang]: one who grunts, drops weights or judges.

Then, in italics below:

[Ricky is slamming his weights, wearing a body building tank top and drinking out of a gallon water jug...what a lunk!]

This single sentence drives me crazy. First, as a minor aside, these Planet Fitness people have no fucking clue how to use a compound adjective. Body-building tank top. Seriously, I don't think even a full season of Schoolhouse Rock would save them. The CEO needs to take a lesson from my girlfriend and hire an English major on staff.

Second, read the sentence again. To me, it sounds like Ricky is just your average guy with a shitty name who likes to wear tank tops and has a dehydration problem. And maybe he likes to use the word slammin'. I see no evidence of grunting, dropping weights or judging.

If Planet Fitness is going to make up their funny-sounding slang words [note the correct use of the compound adjective] with definitions, they should at least be able to use them in a sentence correctly. All they're showing me with this line about Ricky is their own prejudice against gym rats and that they'd be really bad as National Spelling Bee judges.

Planet Fitness CEO: OK Shoshana, this is for the championship. Your word is, Hebrew.

Little Shoshana: Can I have the definition please?

Planet Fitness CEO: A member of the Semitic peoples inhabiting ancient Palestine and claiming descent from Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

Little Shoshana: Can you use it in a sentence please?

Planet Fitness CEO: That man over there counting his money is wearing a funny hat and has a hook nose...what a Hebrew!

Little Shoshana: F*** you.

And they have the nerve to call this place a judgement-free zone.

Now Skeeter, he ain't hurting nobody...

2010-08-24T16:39:00.009-04:00

As a journalist, my emotions climb high and sink low on a daily basis. Some days I'll be assigned a happy little event with happy people and happy friends and all sorts of sources who just can't wait to talk to me (perfect example).

But today was not one of those days.

Today I covered my first murder trial. Well, I covered the arraignment that will eventually lead to a trial, but you get the idea.

The story is that yesterday, a 19-year-old guy stabbed a 21-year-old guy who was later found dead on the scene. Pretty big news for Nashua, certainly. And I was the lucky one picked to cover his subsequent arraignment this morning when the usual morning cops reporter had an ill-timed dentist appointment.

So I woke up before 7, scooped up a hearty bowl of Wheaties and made my down to the courthouse. And if Nashua is any indication, the smaller courts of America are understaffed, overworked and cranky. They zip through arraignments and have little sympathy for people who show up late or want to give "their side of the story." I can't imagine being a clerk at one of these places right now. No wonder they want reporters to drive down to the courthouse to make copies of a document instead of finding it for them and reading the information over the phone.

The arraignments start at 8:15 sharp. Amidst all the craziness to find the right courtroom, meet up with my photographer and figure out who I should be talking to, I manage to find the father of the accused. He doesn't want to talk to me, but he's not angry. He manages to squeak out a offering of condolence to the victim's family but couldn't comment on more. His sullen face looked like he'd been up all night, worried for his son and terrified for his future.

I moved into the courtroom to wait for the judge. My photographer and I moved up to the front row and sat next to a couple guys from WMUR. We heard whispers in the pew behind us. I turned around slightly and began to speak with the man behind me. He turned out to be the victim's best friend since the two were five years old. The victim was this guy's best man at his wedding. He couldn't say much either, but his face told the story. Shocked, angry, depressed. Completely overcome with emotion. He did an amazing job to stay composed, but the three girls he sat with were in tears for much of the two hours I sat there.

I asked how old this guy was. He said 22. I'm 22. Same age, except this guy just found out 12 hours ago that the best friend he's ever known was murdered. I can't begin to explain what a chilling realization that was.

Our conversation came to a slow stop. There was no "See ya later," no "Thanks, have a good one." It just came to an eventual end. He told me what he could and how he was feeling, but after that the words dissipated.

Arraignment after arraignment came through. A woman who didn't speak English pleading for something. A young guy and a costly speeding ticket. Two women fighting for a restraining order against the other. One by one for at least an hour.

I looked to my left. The father, the guy I spoke to outside for a moment, had his head on his hands, resting against the pew in front of him. Totally lost. The only expression that comes to mind is sheer disbelief. Shock and awe that the kid brought out in handcuffs with his.

This is all pure observation. The room is silent, save for a few sobs and sniffles from the family behind us. When the accused appears through the doorway and walks to his seat, there's no dramatic hush or shouts of fury. There's not much sound at all. The scuffling of feet and the clink of metal. A photographer's shutter cl-cl-click-clicking away. He doesn't say anything. Just a whip of his long black hair and a stone cold look that hints he might not have had much sleep this night.

The two sides in suits say very little. No details are released of the night's events. The only question here is what bail to set. And, since a court so small cannot set a bail so big, the judge lands on "held without." A probable cause hearing is scheduled for Sept. 1. The court sealed the affidavit and thus kept all important details from surfacing until the matter goes to trial.

Done. Next case. Just like that.

No one else could muster the energy to fling a few words at me and trust that I'd protect them, so I went on my way. Back to the newsroom, sinking low on a Tuesday of mixed emotions. But as the job has taught me already, tomorrow's a new day and today's behind me. Only thing to do from here is climb.

Snap, Crackle, You're Dead.

2010-08-23T22:14:00.015-04:00

I'm not the first to complain about this, but after a single experience with it I knew I had a story to tell.

It started with a health kick at the grocery store. None of my favorite Double Stuf Oreos, no candy, no sweets of any kind (I'm not ridding the delights from my diet, just trying to stop paying for them). So I picked out some fruit, a box of Kashi cereal and filled my cart with a boatload of goodies. At some point in the trip, I made my way down the chips aisle for some Chex Mix.

Now, Doritos were the tasty choice, but I felt like something else. I wanted something crunchy and delicious but with some sort of health tinge to it. Hello Peppercorn Ranch Sun Chips. Bingo. Thirty percent less fat than regular potato chips was all the false advertising I needed to hear. But when I reached for them, a thunderstorm erupted throughout the store.

The deafening, crackling sound shook my very core. What in God's name could make such a horrible sound?

A bag. Yes, a bag for potato chips. That's the root of the sound that popped my eardrums, rattled dentures at the nearby IHOP and probably killed six kids in Asia somehow. Seriously, listen to it:

No exaggeration, I would rather have a South African follow me around with a Vuvuzela all day than grab a new bag of Sun Chips. The sound is ridiculous. It's even worse in person. I thought people were freaking out way too much about it when the bag first emerged, but now that my left ear is useless I can empathize.

The saddest part is that I still bought the chips. I brushed off my first grab-and-touch as an opening bang to scare away little kids. But when I sat on the couch and gripped the bag with both hands to tear open the top and consume the Peppery Ranch goodness, I swear to God I could hear Liam Neeson in his beard yelling, "RE-LEASE THE CRACKLE!" Before I knew it, I was naked on the couch with singed hair and clothes scattered everywhere. My apartment looks like Crater Lake Park without the water.* (UPDATE: That picture apparently isn't Oregon's Crater Lake. This is. I think.)

It's scary how loud the bag is. It might be even scarier that my last two topics of writing have been Legos and Sun Chips. But I guess they're not all winners.

*I've never been to Crater Lake Park. I've heard it's nice.

The star himself.

2010-08-20T13:04:00.006-04:00

On the mound throwin' heat against Portland on Wednesday. Jeff threw 79 pitches over seven scoreless innings, scattered three hits, struck out eight, walked one, and got the win. What a performance. Mobbed by reporters after the game and smashed with a shaving cream pie in the face. Great to see him do so well. Way to go bud, keep it up.

I'm thinking about getting metal legs...

2010-08-18T00:53:00.007-04:00

A survey came out and said Legos was the most popular toy ever made. And, since I was a master of Legos as a child, I thought I would point out how pathetic this survey actually was.

Now, I will not argue with the winning choice. Legos are awesome. You can build all sorts of shit with them and, as you can see from the graph here, you don't always have to follow the rules of construction.

The different kits you can buy allow kids to build ships, castles, cars, boats, alien planets, and whatever else they can imagine. The people who invented this little toy not only saw a financial opportunity, but the potential for giving kids a toy that encourages creativity and do-it-yourself skills.

The problem I have with this survey is that the group surveyed was 20-40 year olds.

I guess I understand why they chose this particular group, and that's to figure out the best toy including both the old and the new. People around age 20, like me, knew exactly what it was like to grow up playing with traditional toys like Legos but also played with modern toys like Gameboys. Adults up to the age of 40 most likely played with some sort of primitive modern toy and have a good grasp of the older toys. So, in theory, this group of 3,000 adults seems like a good choice.

But I would argue that the headline claiming Lego as the top toy in the world is completely misleading.

Kids don't play with Legos anymore. At least not like they used to. From 2003-2005, the Lego Group faced deficits up to $200 million and laid off thousands of workers in Europe. The toy has been climbing again in recent years, but thanks mostly to a booming video game franchise and the construction of popular LegoLand amusement parks.

So, in my opinion, Legos is no longer the most popular toy among kids today. It was, but has since been replaced by video games and more modern technology. And if you've been wondering why the hell I would Wikipedia the Lego Group or do any sort of research on something as trivial as fucking toys, here is your answer:

Video games have sapped so much life of out today's youth that I almost wish I never had them in the first place. I've been sitting on this idea for a while now, watching my roommate spend hours in his room on his XBox 360, but the deceiving Lego survey finally exploded the opinion out of me.

I really can't stand them anymore. The only games I would play and actually enjoy right now are of the sports variety, and even then I get completely bored after half an hour of playtime. I feel like every button I press kills a brain cell. Seriously. I so much more inclined to go outside, pick up a book, relax with some music, or even build some Legos, if it were more age appropriate.

I mean just look at the options kids have now:
If I had the tools to build my own basketball court with Legos at age 10, and the little men had springy footholds with which to actually shoot a tiny basketball toward my toy hoop, I would've gone fucking nuts.

Cam, age 10: "You're telling me I can spend five hours of my afternoon trying to get a tiny plastic ball into a tiny plastic hoop by flicking little plastic men over and over and over again? Talk about best day EVER!"

Seriously, you couldn't drag me away from something like that. I'd be occupied for days. But instead, children today are too caught up with graphics and special moves and other things that do nothing but cause early-onset carpal tunnel.

These kids are at the prime stages for developing their minds and so many of them are wasting their time, and a ridiculous amount of money, on video games.

I don't think games should be banned, but they need to be controlled. One of the reasons I think I care so little about them today is because my parents imposed limits: one hour a day. That's more than enough time to spend melting your brain.

Just living the dream

2010-08-02T07:59:00.006-04:00

At age 22, Jeff Locke is 1-0 with a 1.96 ERA in four starts with the Altoona Curve, the double-A affiliate of Major League Baseball's Pittsburgh Pirates. He's got 22 strikeouts and has allowed just four walks in 23 innings pitched. He's a professional baseball player, and he's on the rise. He's even got his own signed baseball cards.

But that's August 2010. I met Jeff in January 1997.

I plopped down between him and Brant Sanborn and took my seat at one of those old brown desks with the metal cubby underneath. I had just moved to New Hampshire from Michigan and was jumping into Mrs. Garland's third-grade class halfway through the year. I left many friends behind at Tonda Elementary in Canton, and I was nervous about my first day at John Fuller.

But at that beat-up desk in the back of the room, Jeff and Brant became my first friends.

I remember little of the rest of that third-grade year, but memories of Jeff pop up all over from the rest of elementary school. And many of them are tied to baseball.

He was the star pitcher on the Royals in little league. I remember one game where our North Conway Rotary team played against him, and on the bench we were cheering and slappin' fives when someone foul tipped one of his pitches. I remember when he hit 60-plus on the radar gun the summer after fourth grade. I'd never seen anything move that fast.

And he wasn't just the best pitcher anywhere, he was the best batter too. When he came over to my house for home-run derby contests in the driveway, he had his own imaginary fence to clear. It was twice as far back as mine, and he still whooped my ass by double digits.

I was too young to understand the drive and the passion for the game he loved. I felt the same passion, but it was spread out. I loved hockey most, but I also loved golf and football and tennis and basketball and baseball. I loved everything in competition.

And I was always good at sports, some days even great. I had a rocket slapshot by my high school years. I could always make incredible trick shots in basketball or connect on a hot serve for an ace down the T in tennis. I can still play golf well and I like to toss the pigskin with my friends. I was never the kid picked last. I've always been a natural athlete, but I never had the patience to hone my raw talent.

Not like Jeff did.

Jeff played baseball. He didn't play anything else. He could throw a football further than anyone in my grade, but he never tried out for quarterback. He could sink foul shot after foul shot, but he never joined the basketball team. He had the same raw talent and athletic ability I did, the same as so many of my friends. But he had discipline. He'd play a pickup game of anything, but in competition, it was all baseball.

He worked at it. He threw hundreds of pitches on hot summer days. He baked in the sun and stayed on the mound until it fell dark. He would even pitch frozen cow pies and snowballs whenever I visited his house in the winter. I remember because one of them hit me square in the nuts. You'd remember something like that too if you caught a Locke fastball to the groin.

Jeff lived and loved baseball. He fought for his right to play the game after high school while so many of us were busy dreaming about it on the couch at home.

And that's why he made it. All the hours of practice, all the time spent on that mound. That's the effort it takes to be a professional athlete. My parents told me that, too. They didn't shove it down my throat, but I remember my dad telling me to spend more hours at the driving range in high school to get better, and I refused. I didn't want to practice. It wasn't as much fun as playing the course and hoping to get better, seeing sparks of brilliance and assuming they'd soon become the norm. But it takes buckets of balls and swing after swing to make the PGA Tour. And if you don't put in the time, if you don't put in the effort, you won't make it. It's that simple.

I don't write this to bemoan my failures as an athlete, or to whine about my efforts to make a career writing about sports ever since playing them for a living has become a virtual impossibility. No, I write because I'm proud to call him my friend.

And not because he's on his way to millions. Not because I could claim to know a pro athlete. I'm proud because I know he's earned it every step of the way. I'm proud because after he was drafted in 2006 and received an eye-popping $675,000 signing bonus, he bought his Mom a new refrigerator. I'm proud because I know all of this couldn't happen to a nicer kid.

I remember back in sixth grade, the two of us would joke that when Jeff made it to the majors, I'd be his agent. I had the math background and the sports passion, and he had the dream. It didn't work out that way, but I like to think someday I'll walk down from the press box, head into the locker room, pull out my tape recorder, and see the same smiling kid meet the press after a perfect game. I already know exactly what I'd say.

"Hey Jeff. How's it feel to be livin' the dream?"

(Jeff showed me this song in middle school. Still one of my favorites to this day. Weird video though.)

Will you take Z as your lawfully wedded husband?

2010-07-24T14:40:00.008-04:00

I would. He hails from Sweden, plays for the Red Wings, grows an incredible beard, and sleeps next to Emma Andersson. Hell, I'd marry into that family just for the last name. Cameron McGinnis Zetterberg. I can hear the ladies swooning already.

But just for a second, forget his homeland, his career and his fantastic facial hair. The man proved Thursday that he has the temerity of real-life James Bond. And if you think you can match such boldness, ask yourself this question:

Could you pull this look off on your wedding day?

Here's the happy couple, Zetterberg and Andersson, during their pre-wedding ceremonies in Sweden. They said it was a joke on tradition, and all 120 wedding guests were given the mandatory beachwear right as they arrived on shore. Surprise!

You can see fellow Red Wings Pavel Datsuk (far left with the strawberry-shaped head), Valtteri Filppula, Johan Franzen, Nicklas Lidstrom, Niklas Kronwall, Tomas Holmstrom, and a few others in the picture if you look hard enough.

When I first saw these photos, I couldn't help but laugh. The wedding album is going to look like a Where's Waldo book. Or a curtain call for the cast of O Brother Where Art Thou. The outfits are ridiculous. At least for women, it's basically a dress turned swimsuit. But it's hard for guys to pull off the onesie look past age seven. Even the most trendy European men turn this thing down before they mousse their hair and make for the club.

But that's part of the reason I love it. Zetterberg and his new wife went totally off the reservation. Sure, maybe yesterday they married in a church in proper suits and dresses like everyone else in the world, but they called one hell of an audible to kick off what I'm sure was an amazing weekend. I would have loved to be there, even though I don't speak any Swedish and every conversation would probably go something like this:

Wedding Guest: Vilken sida av familjen står du på?

Me: HAHA YES I LOVE HENRIK ZETTERBERG. HAVE YOU SEEN HIS BEARD? IT'S LIKE GOD HIMSELF PAINTED IT ON!

Wedding Guest: *Smiles* Ja, det är ett av världens sju underverk. Säg inte till mig är du bara en annan amerikansk idiot som inte kan tala ett främmande språk?

Me: WHY YES, I WOULD LIKE ANOTHER BEER! THANK YOU!

Wedding Guest: Varför har du stjäla bara min dryck?

Me: HAHA YEAH! GO RED WINGS!

One teacher's voice

2010-07-23T09:31:00.013-04:00

I spent much of my Wednesday at work writing this story, and I think it came out great. Certainly on par with anything I've done in Nashua since I started last month. The story will probably run on the front of tomorrow's paper, but I wanted it to be available NOW, since I'm not a patient person, so I decided to copy and paste it here. Enjoy.

Nashua Superintendent Mark Conrad said he’d never seen anything like it. He wasn’t alone.

It’s not every day that fashion sparks an important issue at a Board of Education meeting.

Katherine Evans, 29, of Hudson, stepped to the microphone Monday night to speak about her struggles to find a job in education since 2008. For emphasis, she wore a white T-shirt with the words “HIRE ME!” inked in large green letters on the front. The shirt said, in smaller letters, “(See back for details)” under the hiring plea. A copy of her resume was printed on the back.

Evans said she wanted to be a voice for all the good teachers who are out of work and unable to land a job in the tough economic conditions. She said her speech was “out of character,” but she wasn’t sure how else to be heard.

“I wanted to express myself and network a little,” she said after the meeting.

Evans graduated from Keene State University in 2003 with a bachelor’s degree in elementary education and also completed a year-long extended education program at Southern Maine University, which she called “very intense” and difficult to get into.

“I thought that program would be the hardest part,” she said. “It really prepares you. I just wish I could use it.”

Evans said she has applied for “hundreds” of jobs since 2008 with no luck and even sent out 60 resumes last month to every school from Nashua to Concord. She received two responses.

“I don’t know if it’s what you know or who you know at this point,” she said.

Evans is hardly alone, and she knows it. The labor market in education has been flooded with teachers searching for jobs, but the positions just aren’t there.

“I think there’s a lot of good talent out there that we’re not able to take advantage of because of the lack of positions open,” Conrad said. “We’re finding many more resumes coming in than in the past from both new teachers and veteran teachers.”

Hudson Superintendent Randy Bell has seen a similar trend.

“Two years ago, we had a very large number, something like 40 vacancies,” he said. “But last year, they dwindled probably in half, and this year, at this point, it’s running a little less than that. So we do have vacancies, but nowhere near what we had two years ago.”

Mary Frazzetta, a human resources assistant for the Merrimack School District, said they have filled 12 positions this summer and three more are still available.

For those 15 teaching jobs, Frazzetta said the district received almost 1,000 resumes and applications.

“As high as that seems,” she said, “it’s not as abnormal as it sounds.”

Dana O’Gara, the director of human resources in the Nashua School District, said there were 954 applications for 87 jobs this year, 40 of which have already been filled.

“With the wealth of applications, many people do not get interviews,” O’Gara said.

But all of these schools are still hiring. Conrad and Bell said they are not cutting jobs from the budget, and they always have positions open up when teachers leave at the end of the school year. The difficulty comes from the abundance of people who want those jobs.

“There’s a lot more teachers out there in the waiver market,” Conrad said.

Most of the open positions vary across subject and age fields, but Bell said in Hudson there have been more middle school and high school positions available than in the elementary schools.

With no pattern forming in the job market, it means teachers like Evans have to stay on their toes.

“I love fourth grade, but beggars can’t be choosers,” Evans said. “I’ll get my Praxis in anything at this point.”

Evans is certified to teach kindergarten through eighth grade and has picked up anything she can get her hands on for experience. Right now, she receives wages from the federally funded Title I teaching program as a reading interventionist in Manchester – where she works one-on-one with children to help them learn to read – but is only paid for 30 hours per week even if she works more.

“If I could live off Title I pay, I would,” Evans said. “I just can’t.”

Her husband of four years, Josh Evans, landed a job as a teacher in the Litchfield School District, but Katherine Evans said money is still tight. The couple used much of their savings to pay back her college loans in 2008.

Evans said she has felt doubts about studying for a teaching degree since she’s been unemployed, but other jobs don’t have the same gratification.

“I’ve had jobs that had a potential for nice paychecks, but I just wasn’t satisfied at the end of the day,” she said. “In this job, you don’t do it for the paycheck.”

Multiple board members wished Evans good luck and commented on her “chutzpah” to get up in front of the board on Monday night and fight for teachers in New Hampshire.

Still, there was little Conrad could do except put her resume on file in the school district, something Evans said has already been done “multiple times” since her unemployment began.

But even if her attempt fails, Evans said she knows it will happen. In the meantime, she’s just trying to keep a positive attitude in mind.

“I like to think I have a good sense of humor about things, so why not have a little fun with this?” Evans said. “It looks a lot better than puffy paint would have.”

My Dorothy Moment

2010-07-15T23:16:00.010-04:00

Tonight, I took the painful, nostalgic plunge into uncharted territory.

I drove through campus as an alumnus.

It was quick, like a shot at the doctor’s office. I drove straight through and into Newmarket for a round of golf and a burger at Rocky’s with Mom. On my way out, the doctor pricked me again. Except this time, the needle stuck.

The familiar has never felt so strange.

I will never be in Durham the same way I once was. Not if I go to graduate school, not if I become a professor, not even if I take over Huddleston’s cushy job.

I’m a permanent visitor. The road team.

So many of my favorite places are no longer mine: The clocktower. The dorms. The luxurious lawn begging to be laid on in the breezy sunshine. The Whitt. The tennis courts. Ham Smith. The MUB. Pauly’s. Ballard’s. Wing’s. That center spot in front of the library.

I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t ask to go. My four years came and went. I didn’t realize what I had until it was gone. Time didn’t ask my permission. If it had, I would’ve begged: Please don’t make me go out there! I’m not ready! The real world has work! Bills! Taxes! Responsibility!

But I am ready. Other than a few forms I can’t begin to comprehend – I have enough trouble with a W2, don’t even try me on health care terminology or insurance or leasing agreements – I know what I’m doing out here. I have a job. I have an apartment. I have bills and I have paychecks. I am responsible. Sustainably independent.

But here’s the thing: it fucking sucks.

Not the way the Buckeyes or Rosby or the Blackhawks do. Not the way disease or death rips apart your life. But it’s the only way I can think to describe the change in lifestyle between a student in college and a young adult in life. It fucking sucks.

And I’m not trying to complain. Honest. The fact is that the change is jarring.

It doesn’t matter if you’re doing what you love, working a shit job, or struggling to find one at all. It just hits you all of a sudden. The Dorothy Moment:

I’m not in college anymore.

I’m not in the mood to preach. If you’ve got years left at school, do what you want with them. But know this: whether or not you want to, whether or not you’re ready, you’ll be leaving someday. You’ll be an alumnus.

And the transition’s not an easy one.

The British is coming! The British is coming!

2010-07-14T07:52:00.005-04:00

In honor of the British Open at St. Andrews, which starts tomorrow, and my still favorite golfer, Tiger Woods, I've decided to post the op-ed I wrote back in April about Tiger's impending return to golf, "I am still Tiger Woods."

The Open at the Old Course at St. Andrews is special because it's one of the world's best golf tournaments at the game's most historic course. I've been lucky enough to walk the Old Course twice, and it's quite a sight. I can't wait for an exciting week of championship golf, culminating in what I hope will be Tiger's third British Open victory. Here's what I wrote about the loved and hated man back in April:

When I was five years old, my dad sawed off the end of a rusty MacGregor five-iron, popped off the worn black rubber from the useless end, refastened it to the jagged top of my new club, and led me out to my backyard in Canton, Mich. to smack my first golf ball. The second those Top Flite dimples whisked into the high grass behind our house, I was hooked for life.

I practiced putting with my Papa’s trusty old 10-iron on his muddy orange carpet every time we visited them in Oregon. The ball would roll into a tiny blue cup time after time again, each plop of the ball hitting the plastic producing a cheery “Oh!” from my proud grandmother. I spent hours putting on that carpet as a hopeful young 10-year-old and begged Papa for daily trips to the driving range downtown.

My parents have spent thousands of dollars on me for golf clubs, golf balls and greens fees. I’ve played in rain, snow, wind, hail, and sun. I remember putts like the 60-foot miracle that curved and dropped for birdie on No. 2 at North Conway Country Club; I remember shots like the 135-yard pitching wedge on No. 9 that bounced once on the green and sunk in for a birdie 3 and a front-nine 39; I remember my best score (72) and my worst (119); I remember mornings golfing across Ireland and Scotland with my dad and rainy afternoon rounds with my grandparents in Oregon.

You pick a year in my life, and I can tell you where I was golfing and how well I was playing. I am a golfer. And, in line with every young golfer of this generation, I loved Tiger Woods.

I had a poster of Tiger in my room. I went through a period where I would hit, wear and play with nothing but Nike equipment. I wore my “I am Tiger Woods” t-shirt so much as a pre-teen that it nearly disintegrated. I watched Tiger win and sulked when Tiger lost. I admired every stroke, every putt, every fist pump. Tiger was my golf hero.

And guess what? He still is.

Tiger will tee it up on Thursday for the most prestigious tournament in golf: The Masters at Augusta National. It’s his first tournament in 144 days, since he declared an indefinite leave from golf to fix marital troubles stemming from infidelities to his wife, Elin.

It’s the media storm of the year. The best player in golf history, in sports history, is nothing more than your everyday, professional sleazeball.

Many fans feel betrayed. They feel angry, let down, disappointed, and appalled. Not me. I hold Tiger in the same regard as I once did.

Why? He’s an athlete. I look up to him for his unmatched talent in golf. What he does in his personal life is none of my business.

If I want lessons on strong disposition, I remember afternoons with my late grandfathers, who served proudly in World War II and the Korean War. If my moral compass needs direction, I talk to my parents: successful, smart and happily married for 25 years. I have a collection of relatives, friends, coworkers, coaches, and teachers from my past who have all shown me virtuous traits in different forms.

With the support system around me, why would I hold the character of a professional athlete with much regard, given the incredible track record of failures?

Sure, there are athletes that give as much of their hearts off the field as they do on, but those stories don’t make headlines on page one. That space is reserved for the seemingly endless list of rapists, liars, womanizers, and drug abusers. Criminal acts of athletes point out the fatal flaw in our media-crazed environment: we worship these men and women and expect them to soar above standards that no one can possibly fulfill. And when they inevitably fail, the world ignites in fury.

Tiger Woods’ legacy as a man is tarnished but his reign over the golf world remains strongly intact. And when Tiger plants a wooden tee in the firm Augusta ground, locks his chiseled hands gently around his Tour Velvet grip and fires a dimpled Nike swoosh into the dazzling green distance, I’ll be the same pre-teen adolescent I once was: wishing that for just one day on the golf course I could say, “I am Tiger Woods.”

MEXICAN STANDOFF!

2010-07-12T17:12:00.010-04:00

Looking for a story that will lead you on and let you down? Then read ahead, bored web crawler.

Today I spent six hours in a real-life standoff.

I wasn't one of the cool guys holding the gun and calling it a MEXICAN STANDOFF! in the blog title is completely just to catch your eye, but I was there.

Where? New Hampshire. Nashua. Downtown. Morningside Drive. No, the standoff wasn't between old people.

I wake up at 7:30. I shave. I shower. I sit down for a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios. My phone rings. It's my boss.

"CAM! YOU AWAKE? WE NEED YOU! THERE'S SO MUCH BLOOD!"

*actual conversation not recorded and therefore cannot be claimed to be entirely accurate

"Yes, I'm awake. I'm eating Cheerios."

"GOOD CHOICE FOR YOUR HEART! NOW DRIVE TO NASHUA! BLOOD!"

"I will be there in minutes."

I hang up. I finish my Cheerios. I move to the kitchen. Must think ahead. I pack lunch: four slices of turkey sandwich with honey mustard and lettuce on whole wheat bread, a granny-smith apple, Sweet and Spicy Doritos, a handful of baby carrots, and a Coke.

I check out Morningside Drive on Google Maps. Straight-left-roundaboutstraight-right-right. I'm ready for said blood.

I jump inside Blue Charlize. The Mini roars to life.

I'm there. The intersection of Taft and Clement is blocked off by police cruisers and armored cars. Two S.W.A.T. teams assemble. It's now 8:30.

Nothing happens for almost an hour. Then two deafening flash-bang grenades. Then another hour. Then 21 softer explosions said later to be tear gas.

I touch the police tape. Feels like yellow. News stations crowd around me. I talk to neighbors.

"HOLY BALLS! THERE'S GUNS AND SHIT!"

*again, conversation not recorded and only estimated for accuracy

I write. I approach another neighbor.

"I SEE POLICE! SCARY SCARY MORE NONDESCRIPT FEELINGS!"

I write. A suited bald policeman comes forward.

"I can't tell you anything I know and I really can't answer any specific questions."

I write. The story is coming together nicely.

An hour passes. I sweat. Black polo in 92-degree heat was a bad choice. Another hour passes. I eat my lunch in Charlize with my newly appreciated friend, AC. I chew chew choose the turkey sandwich. It's warm. So is everything else, boiled in the hot sun. I finish the hot mess and step outside when the policeman reappears.

"I will tell you what I told you before, but this time I'll say it differently."

I lick my pen and write, just like a cool newspaperman should. Boom. Words.

The night reporter shows up. He'll take over, he says. I do not argue. My eyes have seen enough bloodshed. I drive back the newsroom.

I sit. I write my story. My shift ends. The night reporter will add his tidbits and we will share the front page tomorrow. Success.

This partly fictional story is brought to you by news stories that sound really exciting when you hear about them but are actually mostly boring to cover because everyone says the same things and the cops rarely give out pertinent information. If you are more into facts and less into prose, visit this website.

Holdin' out for a home life

2010-07-11T22:59:00.011-04:00

Winding down another great weekend with a bad romantic comedy on the couch by myself in my apartment (this Sunday's selection: I'm Reed Fish - it's pretty lame, even as far as romantic comedies go, and I'm about as lenient a judge on movies as it gets), I'm struck for the second time in a week with a bout of homesickness.

Now, I've got myself a great life. I drive my dream car to work every day. I somehow picked up a full-time job at one of the state's most well respected newspapers right out of school. I have the best girl by my side. I have a nice apartment with a great friend fully furnished with gifts from my parents - a huge leather couch, a soft comfy queen bed, a kitchen table, chairs, and the like. I'm truly happy, and I don't take it for granted. As MGMT says, I'm in the prime of my life.

But every once in a while I really pine for my dad's mashed potatoes, my mom's grilled chicken, my sister's Risotto. The couch in my kitchen: a perfect spot for reading, even if it's too short to completely lay down. My energetic Corgi, aged Golden Retriever, and the affectionate but insane cats. Family movie nights. The view of my backyard. Walks around the neighborhood.

I don't want you to get the idea that I'm turning my Blogspot into a Livejournal. Most of these types of posts are reserved for my real journal each day or night. Recaps of the day, life's aspirations and goals. That stuff's not often necessary for public viewing, even on the Internet.

But since my mind's been racing a bit tonight, I thought I'd do some writing to clear my head and send a message.

If you're young and living at home, be it that you're out of school and unhappily unemployed or still a student and working your summer break at a life-sucking job, enjoy the home life. Push for new opportunities and work toward the excitement of an independent life, but don't throw away your time at home. It's worth more than you think.

TONIGHT: The LeBrongest hour of TV....ever

2010-07-08T11:21:00.018-04:00

In light of the most anticipated sports announcement since Brett Lebda's signing with the Toronto Maple Leafs (ha!), I must weigh in on LeBron James' egomaniacal one-hour special set to air tonight on ESPN.

First, let me say that I once had respect for BronBron. I thought he was one of the gentle giants, a modest NBA star (comparatively, of course). But since the "Chosen One" tattoo surfaced on his back, I've been suspicious that he really is entirely obsessed with his own greatness. And this week, when the news broke that he would announce what team he would sign with during a one-hour-long "special" on ESPN, I lost it. Any respect he once had is now gone.

Let me just put this in perspective. He's a free agent about to sign with a basketball team. He's not the only one this summer, not the only one ever, not special at all. The guy doesn't even have any championships. And while I understand that his signing is big news, especially because whatever team gets him will immediately be better, one piece of big news does not merit an hour of live television airtime.

So, I've compiled a short list of things I'd rather see get an hour special on TV than LeBron James' free-agent signing announcement.

A Day in the Life of an Earwig: Yes, I'd rather watch these disgusting little critters crawling in and about someone's ear canals for an hour than catch a second of LeBron Mania.

The Making of Gigli with special commentary from Jennifer Lopez and Ben Affleck: Yep, bring on the fake laughs and stupid inside jokes from two annoying ex-lovers as they talk about one of the worst movies ever made before I watch tonight's announcement.

Behind the Scenes of Toddlers & Tiaras: I would love to get up close and personal with this reality show and watch how insane mothers put "flippers" (fake teeth) in their infants' mouths before tuning into ESPN tonight.

American Idol Sings the Beatles: Please Please (give) Me the worst voices in the country and let them Maxwell Silver Hammer my favorite songs for an hour before I give any of my loving to LeBronberry Fields Forever.

The NASCAR Sprint Cup Racing Series: I would even watch stock cars do 500 laps around a circular track in front of thousands of screaming redneck hillbillies before buckling down on the couch for LeBron. AND I'd do it sober.

Feel free to leave any hour specials you'd rather see than LeBron's self-love fest.

Commercialization to the extreme

2010-07-06T22:05:00.003-04:00

It's so hot that I just walked down the hall past my only roommate to use the bathroom, saw the door was closed and proceeded to wait two or three minutes before realizing the light was off, no one was in there and I'm simply losing my mind.

But I've been able to keep the heat somewhat at bay thanks to two new fans from Wal-Mart, which segues perfectly into Tim King's choice for my next blog post (he won the caption contest with the only entry, therefore I must give him his due for such loyalty): The incredibly over-commercialization of my "neighborhood" in South Nashua.

From my window I can see McDonald's through the trees. From that McDonald's, looking up and down the street I can see Guitar Center, Toys R Us, Market Basket, Starbucks, Sports Authority, Best Buy, Staples, The Post Office, Pizza Hut, Modell's, Walgreen's, Bernie and Phyl's Furniture, Barnes and Noble, Panera, and more bright signs that squeeze your head. Within a five-minute drive I can go to a different Market Basket, or Shaw's or Hannaford or Stop and Shop if I prefer, any New England regional bank, Wal-Mart, Target, UNO's, Burger King, a UHaul center, Rite Aid, Jordan's Furniture, and an entire mall full of more brand-names like the Apple Store or Claire's (in case I finally decide to splurge on those faux diamond earrings that are just so fetch - yes, it's happening).

So on any given night with an unlimited credit card, I could be strumming a new guitar with a Pokemon lunchbox, gnawing on some store-brand chicken sauteed in Venti Chai Latte, slapping a 'Kazaam' DVD around with a set of Atomic Race 7s, printing off some personalized stationary to mail, and cooking some Asiago bagels in an Easy Bake Oven all from a reclined position in a blue suede love seat. Sounds like my own little slice of heaven, doesn't it?

There are so many things wrong with society today, you've really got to pick your battles. I don't have quite the historical background to properly take on this commercial giant and talk about the good ol' days when there was a milkman and payphones and plain old 2-D television, but this really has to stop. Or at least slow down.

Example: I shouldn't be able to go work out at Planet Fitness at three in the morning. Those people working that shift should be sleeping. There's truly no need for any store to have 24-hour service except the occasional gas station for late-night drivers. I mean, I appreciate the fact that if I wake up at three and find the energy to drive 15 minutes to work those glutes, I can. But it's not exactly a membership deal-breaker if I can't.

It's so hot that I'm barely able to string two thoughts together, but I think my general message is this:

While convenience is, well, convenient, it's also terrifying for the future. There are too many stores and too many people buying too much plastic shit. There's not enough education and not enough originality or authenticity. I say close down the stores in my area and send all the employees off to join the Peace Corps. Then people might start to understand how morally bankrupt our country has become.

New Summer Look

2010-07-01T06:59:00.009-04:00

Note: New blog header uploaded. I like it, but feel free to comment and let me know what you think.

Three weeks into the real world and I already understand why people always say college is the best four years of your life. If you've got any sense at all, you know you have it good, sometimes great, during those four years. But once you get a real job, it hits you: I have to work? Like, every day? Fuck.

Yeah, not a great realization. Especially when the average time I woke up last semester was about 10:30 or 11 a.m. and I'm currently an hour and a half into my shift right now and it's 7:30. Jesus. But at least the only thing I'm responsible for right now as the only person in the newsroom (and probably the only human being awake at such an ungodly hour) is watch the idiots on WMUR, check three local newspaper websites, check the fax machine for police logs, check the AP Wire for anything interesting, listen to the police scanner, check the news computer for press releases that come in, and write up little live briefs for the web. Sounds like a lot, but believe me it's not. Why do you think I'm sitting here blogging for the first time in over a month?

Certainly, the MoJo shift (6am to 2pm) has a lot of responsibility. Say, if a massive fire or a major arrest or something crazy like that happens this early in the morning, it's all up to me to cover it and get it online. Moderately terrifying. But then I remember we live in New Hampshire, and I can breathe again. All I've had to do in the past two hours is write a three-inch brief about a Hudson kid who rolled his car yesterday, post two wire stories, and make four or five useless walks over to the fax machine/news computer. So that's what I get up for in the morning. What did you do? Sleep? OK, probably about equal effort then.

You can check out some of my front page stories so far though. Here, here and here. Enjoy. The rest of the stuff I've written is pretty meh. Even I'd tell you to skip it and pick up a book instead.

Speaking of books, I'm up to 22 so far this year for a total of 6,135 pages. And since the fax machine was empty again and the 'Send/Receive' button on the News computer came back with nada, I've got more time to write.

So I'm going to review them here. Yes, all of them. Because I'd prefer to do that than call more police officers who'd rather get shot than tell me about a minor accident in their no-name New Hampshire town.

Anyway, the book thing started with a New Year's Resolution to read 100 this year (a number that I've noticed is astronomically high for anyone younger than 80 years old) and so far I'm way behind. But, I have been reading consistently, and that's the real goal. And 22 books halfway through the year is a decent number. Here's what I've read since January, in order of when I read them:

Piecework by Pete Hamill - Hamill is one of my favorite authors and until I read this book, I had no idea he was a journalist for a long time. This is a great book for travel writing and has plenty of good stories in it.

Breakfast at Tiffany's by Truman Capote - Funny, short and famous. Good characters. I wanted to read some Capote and this was a good way to get a sense of his writing style.

In Cold Blood by Truman Capote - One of the best books I've ever read. Chilling, intense, page-turning. It's shocking to believe a story this good and this incredibly detailed could actually be true. A must read.

On Writing by Stephen King - I didn't really think I was going to like this book, but I actually loved it. The last thing I read by Stephen King was The Shining when I was about 15 and I swore I'd never read him again (I don't do well with horror anything). But On Writing was candid, realistic and helpful for anyone who wants to write. I loved it.

The Tender Bar by J.R. Moeringer - Great memoir about a guy who grew up in New York City around a bar his whole life. I think I liked this book so much because I felt a strong connection with the author. Seemed a lot like me. A good pick if you like memoir.

The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz - Good fiction by a great writer. I'm not sure I agree with his Pulitzer for this book, but it was a good story. I enjoyed it. I was a little annoyed with the crazy amount and length of his footnotes, but I'd say it's worth reading.

Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez - So wonderful and beautiful it's hard to call it a book. What's that? No, I don't have a vagina. Men can be romantic too. And I loved this book. It might even be my all-time favorite. I just love the language, the words, the story, the way he tells it; it's woven just perfectly. Another must read, but it helps if you have a romantic side.

Where I'm Calling From by Raymond Carver - A great collection of short stories by one of fiction's best short-story writers. Read it if you like short stories. I'm not big on them myself, mostly because I like stories that don't abruptly end ambiguously in ways I can't understand (always feel like I'm missing something). That said, Carver is still a great read.

The Good Soldiers by David Finkel - Unbelievable true story of life in Iraq. The author spent two years over there with the troops and he came out with one hell of a book. Seriously, if you think you know anything about a soldier's life in the Middle East, think again. This book changes your whole mentality and will depress the hell out of you. It'll color up your vocabulary and make you feel for anyone's family with a kid over there. Truly an amazing story.

Justice by Michael Sandel - I read it for my persuasive writing class. The guy who wrote it is a Harvard professor and writes well. Pretty cool stuff about philosophy and all that. But it gets slow at times and asks way more questions than it answers.

Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger - I hadn't read any Salinger since I was in high school, so I picked up Catcher in the Rye a little while after the writing legend died in late January. Still as great as I remember, with Holden Caufield as one of literature's greatest characters.

Trash by Dorothy Allison - A bunch of vivid stories that seem fictional but aren't. The author is a lesbian who grew up on a farm with a family of nutjobs. The book is mostly little vignettes of her life, and they vary from interesting to crazy.

Born to Run by Christopher McDougall - A good book about the Tarahumara runners in Mexico and the author's experience with them. To be honest, the guy's a pretty crappy writer but the subject was interesting to me. I thought it was very cool that wayy back in the day, humans used to run their prey to death. It's the only explanation as to how we could have evolved as a species, since humans are slower and weaker than just about everything else.

High Fidelity by Nick Hornby - I love this movie and I've always liked Nick Hornby, so I had high expectations for the book. It met them. I thought the book was just as funny, if not funnier at times, than the movie and it was a quick read. It helps too that the movie wasn't entirely scripted from the book, so there were new parts of the story sprinkled among the great lines of the movie. I wish they had Jack Black's line in there somewhere though..."That's the worst fuckin' sweater I've ever seen man...it's COSBY sweater, a COS-BY SWEA-TAH!"

Nine Stories by J.D. Salinger - I already said I'm not a big fan of short stories, but Salinger is a different breed. His writing is just so inviting. You can always relate to the characters, I feel, because they talk and speak and act like real people. The generation is different and the language is clearly outdated, but that doesn't take away from the connection. Each of these nine stories are worth reading many times over.

Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell - Amazing amounts of research usually makes for a boring-as-hell book, but not in Gladwell's case. He writes with such ease, such relatability, that I went out and bought his other two books to read sometime this year. I really like his writing style and how much work he puts into his books. Crazy guy to look at though. Makes you wonder if he's actually the abandoned lovechild of Harry Potter and Sideshow Bob.

In Defense of Food by Michael Pollan - The only book of the 22 that I didn't enjoy. The subject matter didn't particularly interest me (all about the health crisis in our country and nutrition) but I read it because I had to for my persuasive writing class. Not great writing and not a great approach to his argument, I thought, but lots of people like this book. Then again, lots of people like NASCAR, American Idol or mayonnaise on their french fries. It ain't right!

A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson - A very cool 'get in touch with nature' kind of book. Bryson is a hilarious writer and I'll probably read more of him. This book is about his attempt to walk the Appalachian Trail and the only thing I didn't really like about it was the history and preachiness of "Save the Wildlife!" every once in a while. Other than that, I'd recommend it.

Shit My Dad Says by Justin Halpern - It's amazing to me that a guy can get a book contract (and soon a TV show) based on nothing but a Twitter account. It's hilarious and awesome and a quick read, but it still boggles my mind.

When the Game Was Ours by Jackie MacMullan - No, I'm not giving any credit to Magic Johnson or Larry Bird for "writing" this book even though they're the main authors on the cover with UNH alum Jackie MacMullan's name in small print underneath them. She wrote it because she's the writer. Very good sports book though. Really cool angle on how these two superstars were so obsessed with each other throughout their careers. I don't really like professional basketball and don't particularly care much about what it was like in the 80s, but MacMullan's writing got me past all that.

Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger - My most recent read is another Salinger masterpiece. Everyone talks about Catcher in the Rye, but if you read anything else by him you really start to understand why he's so good. I liked this book even more than Catcher in the Rye, to be honest, because it was almost like it had two Holden Caufields. Franny and Zooey aren't anything like Holden, but they are two separate characters that you can connect with in the same way. It's really an amazing little book.

I'm more than halfway through my shift now since I've had to periodically stop blogging to start working, but it felt good to actually spend some time doing something constructive at work rather than update my Twitter feed 10 times in four minutes or check ESPN every minute on the minute. So, I'll be back at some point. I'd like to make this blog not always about Red Wings and get it back to the space where I can just let go and write. It's an essential part of life, after all.

It's over.

2010-05-09T23:57:00.003-04:00

Another year gone. This one doesn't hurt like last year, but knowing that three of the remaining four teams will, or probably will, be the Sharks, Hawks and Pens is truly disturbing. I don't really want to talk about it. If you care about the Wings, you know it all anyway. See you in October.

Total domination. Wings 7, Sharks 1.

2010-05-06T22:42:00.002-04:00

I saw almost none of this game, except the Sharks' lone goal and Mule's fourth and final tally. I had one of those days, you know the ones where everything goes right from start to finish? It was amazing. And at about 9:15 tonight, I'm happy and thinking it wouldn't even matter if the Wings head home for the summer. Then I turn the game on and it's 6-0. The day gets better.

I have nothing to say about this game because I hardly saw any of it. But what I know is Babcock wanted to win one game after Tuesday's heartbreak. He did it. Tonight, he'll say the same thing again. One game. Win Saturday. Nothing else matters. Let's take this momentum to California and bring the series back to Detroit. It's not over yet. Go Wings.

Blame me. Wings lose again.

2010-05-04T22:59:00.002-04:00

I turn on the Wings game with 13:33 left in the third. Thornton scored with 13:18 left. Then some stupid rookie got his first goal ever when Jimmy was caught cheating and more bullshit ensued in overtime. Blame it all on me. I started recapping on the blog right when this round started and so far I'm battin' a thousand for Wings games to end with a 4-3 loss to the Sharks. Tonight was especially suspicious because the Wings looked to have the game in hand when I turned it on, then all of sudden it was over and the Winged Wheels are deflating rapidly. Our season can't end this way.

I don't really know what to say. I watched very little of the game but felt quite unsatisfied with what I saw. The Wings didn't play well with the lead and the officials took away two minutes of crucial kick-ass time at the end by calling a stupid penalty on Holmstrom. In overtime, I was too anxious and worried and freaking the fuck out to even notice how the Wings played. Then the Sharks scored and now I'm here typing out my feelings of frustration to whatever audience is left of the blog.

I can't stand a sweep. I really can't. Not to the Sharks. Not to these Sharks. The Colorado fucking Avalanche won two games against these Sharks just weeks ago. I really really really don't want to see it end this way on Thursday. Let's go Wings. Win Thursday. Win game four. Then we'll think about game five. No need to think ahead; no need to worry about four straight right now. It's one at a time. We can take these Sharks one at a time.

It's not over yet. Must. Keep. Telling. Myself. That. Pray to God for a Red Sox 2004. No fetal positions yet, no swearing off all things hockey. Not yet. Not yet not yet not yet. I'm not ready for the Wings to go home for the summer. Step it up Wings. If there's any team that could choke away four straight in the playoffs, it's these Sharks. Let's do this. Go Wings.

No time to panic: Wings 3, Sharks 4

2010-05-02T23:36:00.005-04:00

Another game played well, another game lost. Two goals from that stupid streaking Pavelski, a ton of ridiculous penalties and game two ended exactly as game one. Wings 3, Sharks 4.

I wasn't watching as closely in the third period, but every time I looked up the Wings were on the penalty kill. I did some research afterward (opened my computer and clicked on the NHL.com box score) to find these numbers staring at me hard in the face:

Detroit penalties: 10. San Jose penalties 4. Detroit third-period penalties: 5. San Jose third-period penalties: 2.

OK. Maybe the 2007 Anaheim Ducks get five penalties in the third period, but we're talking about the Detroit Red Wings here. There's no referee in the world who can legitimately call five penalties on God's sacred franchise in a single period. The Wings don't have players on their team that take penalties, other than Bertuzzi. And since the 'Tuz didn't take allll the penalties, I have to assume most of the calls were crap. And since San Jose scored two goals in the third (both of which were annoying as all hell), I'm going to chalk this loss up to the officiating once again.

Call it poor logic if you want, but I don't see any other way to describe both games one and two. "The Sharks are just a better team" is a laughable rebuttal. That's like saying the Penguins deserved to win the Cup last June. Fuhgettaboutit.

Game three is Tuesday in Detroit. The Wings win and they're back in it; the Wings lose and it's all but over. The Triple Deke ~~jinxed us~~ tweeted earlier today that Babcock's Wings have never faced an 0-2 or 1-3 hole in a playoff series. Well they're in deep now. It's win four out of the next five or go home to book an early tee time. I love golf but I don't like the sound of that. Let's do this. See you Tuesday. Go Wings.

Another attempt to get back on the horse...

2010-04-30T00:05:00.003-04:00

This will be my fourth post of the year, and it comes on April 30. That's one post per month. Pretty pathetic; almost as bad as my lack of running in 2010. But I think I'm going to try and re-enter the blogosphere one more time, and hopefully, I'll stick to it with recaps of the Wings' playoff games from now on. For now, I'll start with game one of round two: Wings 3, Sharks 4.

I literally can't believe how much bullshit the Wings had to put up with in this game and still almost tied it to force overtime. First, they start strong and outplay San Jose for the game's initial eight minutes. Then, the referees call a very weak slashing call on Filppula (he didn't even break the damn guy's stick!) and thus began the Sharks' scoring barrage. One, two, three and it was 3-0 San Jose just that fast. The first was a good shot on the powerplay by the suddenly surface-of-the-sun hot Joe Pavelski (who everyone is having such a good time calling "The Big Pavelski" -- We get it. The Big Lebowski except with Pavelski. Hilarious. Go snip your brainstem.) and then the Wings blow coverage in front of the net on Heatley's goal and then Setoguchi has a puck bounce right to him and he dumps it in the open net. Amazing series of events that all started with a crappy call that a referee shouldn't make in the playoffs. How in the world can a guy of Filppula's soft hands and moisturized hair slash someone hard enough for a penalty? I just don't see it.

Anyway, Cleary comes back with an easy one. Then the Wings outplay the Sharks for the next 20 minutes and Franzen snipes a beauty. But then the Mule gets slashed in the face, necessitating more than a few stitches and much bloodshed, and the man gets called for a tripping penalty. WAIT, wait wait. I'm sorry. I was wrong. I did some research, and apparently the NHL has changed the definition of a tripping penalty.

Straight from Lil' Gary's Book o' Rules:

"Tripping: When a player trips another player with his stick or when a player aggressively lodges his face into another player's stick and forces ~~the pansy~~ him to fall down due to the strength of his fantastic skin."

In that case, Franzen was guilty. But seriously, instead of the Wings having a legitimate four-minute powerplay to end the period, the Sharks get a powerplay that soon becomes a 5-on-3 when that sneaky little Diving Shark (yes, it's a new breed) Setoguchi gets whacked in the chest by Filppula and goes down in perfect Rosby form for another penalty on the Wings. I usually don't argue high-sticking calls because they are so damn inarguable, but multiple replays showed Fil's stick never touching Setoguchi's face at all. Not even an inch. Then Pavelski rolls another strike down the center of Howard's lane (Ha ha ha, another Big Pavelski joke. I hate myself) and the Sharks are back up two at the start of the third. Raffy get's us back in it after a beautiful feed from my boy Datsyuk and then the Sharks hang on for a crapshoot game one victory.

I hated it, I was frustrated for the game entirety, and I'm not going to be able to sleep for a while tonight. But I have to agree with what Mr. Triple Deke tweeted after this one wrapped up: "Not worried either. Still love this matchup."

He's right. The Wings outplayed the Sharks for almost the entire game (not vastly outplayed, but outplayed nonetheless) on the road, less than two days after the end of a tough seven-game series, and still only lost by one thanks to some bullshit from the refs. I have to think that's a good sign somehow about this matchup. The Sharks aren't playoff tested. The Wings are. They're both really talented, but the Wings have the drive. I still like the Wings a lot in this one. Let's do it again in game two.

Oh, and the best part about game two on Sunday? Not on NBC, not in the afternoon. Night game in the Shark Tank. Let's tie it up boys. Go Wings.

Return to Blogging: Wings-Flames Live Coverage

2010-03-15T21:34:00.005-04:00

It's been two months. I have no excuses; most of my thoughts about hockey have been better expressed through 140 characters than in long form here. Anyway, now I'm on spring break and I have little to do over the next week other than celebrate my 22nd birthday on St. Patrick's Day and lie around my house. So, since this game with the Flames is huge (regular-season-wise), I thought I'd check back into the blogging hotel for a night and see what my lazy brain comes up with. Enjoy.

Detroit Red Wings at Calgary Flames

First Period

Oh, half a minute in and Holmstrom skates off with a knee injury. I'm regretting this already.
It gets better! Wings turnover results in a Flames goal less than two minutes in annnd we're down 1-0. Jeez, what a way to start the biggest game of the regular season so far. The fact that I typed that sentence combined with my Red Wings fandom verbs my noun in ways I can't even comprehend. When was the last time a regular season game actually mattered for the Red Wings? March 26, 1997 is the last one that comes to mind, and even that one was just bragging rights.
Lidstrom giveaway down low almost ends in a goal if not for save by Rookie Goaltender. Who is this team?
I like the looks of the new Cleary-Filapoola (Babcock pronunciation) - Zetterberg line. Talented, hard-working. If only they could put the puck in the net.
Shorthanded two-on-one and no goal. Surprised? Not me. Not this year.
Random deviation: The incredibly messed up episode of South Park with Kenny and his "cheesing" addiction is on. I love the show, but this one was just weird. Cartman posing as the Anne Frank for cats and Kenny high on cat urine for the whole episode? Just...weird. The new one where Matt and Trey take on Tiger Woods (airs on Wednesday) looks pretty interesting though. Could be hilarious if it doesn't get too crazy like the one they did about Britney Spears a while back. Anyway, back to the game.
This play-by-play on FSN-Detroit is so boring. I mean it's a one-goal first period, but Mickey is talking...so slow. He's using....silence as...a filler. Maybe that's why I'm watching the game on my computer, live-blogging and glancing at the TV all at the same time. Pick it up in the second, Mick, please.
End of the period, still down 1-0. A few chances from the Wings, but mostly just a back and forth period with an early goal scored off a turnover. Maltby's pretty bad as an announcer, by the way, but then again so is Matthew Barnaby and he got a job at ESPN. Nevermind, I don't care. Bring on period two.

Second Period

Very little happening. Random thought: Does anyone else think that if the Wings had the money/means to trade for huge talents like Olli Jokinen and Jay Bouwmeester that they'd be thriving and leading the league in just about everything? The Wings develop players better than any other team. I'm not biased or anything.
Nice, retaliatory play to check Holmstrom in the back of the head for...being Holmstrom. The drunk Canadian crowd loved it though.
Where did this Kiprusoff come from? I thought he was still all high and mighty about playing for Finland and giving up a ton of goals to U.S.-born players. I guess he likes Calgary better. Seems like the same place to me. Cold. North. Not America. Yeah. Same place.
Random deviation #2: Love that I have an automatic mute button on my MacBook: it's perfect for when that still-retarded Fillet-O-Fish commercial comes on and I don't have to have that song stuck in my head for hours. Thanks, Apple; I'm sure that was what you were thinking when you designed it.
Yeah Mickey, Drew Miller for the Vezina this year. And I thought Murph was the lovable idiot on this telecast. Jeez I'm critical tonight. Perhaps it's just boredom. Or an overload of ice cream. Both? Nevermind.
J-Will rings an easy goal off the post. Ugh. He's a perfect fit as Samuelsson's replacement.
Nice save, Jimmy Howard. I tell ya this kid better win the Calder this year after all the crap he's been through in the minors. He's proven his worth.
Do the Red Wings defensemen know they're playing in Calgary and not at the Joe? Shoot the puck at the net, not the boards, guys. They aren't the same up here in Canada, eh.
Score. Power play. Let's capitalize.
Bullshit. Terrible call. That's called good defense on a breakaway. Wait. How the hell is that a penalty shot? Dear God. Please Jimmy, please....THANK You. Nice save. Let's get this power play going again.
Tie game! What a shot by Datsyuk. Honest to God I'll never get tired of watching that man play hockey. Sure, Yzerman will go down in history as my favorite hockey player of all time, but Datsyuk is the best to watch. His talent is unmatched. I feel like I should go put on his jersey. But then it would cover my "Got Yzerman?" shirt. A conundrum only a Red Wings fan would have.
Oh, the period's over. 1-1 and headed to the third for eighth in the West. Let's do it.

Third Period

The Wings have come out with a lot of fire to start this period. They better keep it up and take the lead instead of let it die out and lose it in the final minutes.
Crap. Unavoidable four-minute power play for the Flames. Pleeease kill it.
Whew. What a kill. I was going to interrupt it a couple times but didn't want to jinx it. Big penalty kill. Won't matter though if the Wings can't score and put the pressure on the home team.
Son of a...Kronwall rings another post. Nice move though. Datsyuk probably would've just chipped it calmly over Kipper for the goal like this beauty, but he's a hockey deity. Can't blame Kronwall for simply being good and not perfect.
Are the Red Wings really going to play a full season with Todd Bertuzzi on their roster? It's still hard to believe and the signing happened last summer...
Five minutes to go and I'm dreading overtime or a shootout. Yeah, they're fun to watch, but Detroit has 12 OT or shootout losses this year. Not sure why, but they can't close the deal when the extra point is on the line. End it in regulation, please.
That's what I'm talking about! 2-1 Wings after another ho-hum (amazing) deflection goal by Holmstrom in front of the net and only a minute and change remaining in the game. That's exactly what the Wings need to take this game. Hold on Jimmy!
Nice save Jimmy! 14 seconds to play. The kid has really been huge and if the Wings make the playoffs (never thought I'd ever think those words), I say the spot is his to lose.
Awesome comeback. 2-1 Wings final score. Big win to move three points up on Calgary and one behind Nashville with the stretch run still to come. Yes, yes and yes.

Post Game Thoughts

Tight game. Playoff-type game. And the Wings won it with solid goaltending, good defense, a clutch penalty kill, and a timely even-strength goal. That sounds more like the championship-caliber Wings I've been watching for years.
Four days off before what should be an easy win against Edmonton might be a bit of a buzzkill after the momentum generated from a big game like tonight, but I think it'll be good for the team. Good for rest, good for focus, good overall. I like the Wings' chances after tonight. They look determined.

I have nothing else to add. This was...fun? Yeah, fun. Perhaps I'll be back while I'm still on break, but don't count on it. I'm sure by now you've all deleted me from your bookmarks anyway. I don't blame you. I blame Sidney Rosby. He's the reason for all the world's problems.

Five Reasons the Hawks Won't Win the Stanley Cup

2010-01-12T02:16:00.004-05:00

I stirred myself up a bit re-reading my blog today (hey, somebody has to keep the page view numbers up) and felt an urge to write again. I know I said "wake me in April" just yesterday about the NHL, but I've got a couple more stones to throw. The league's "best" team right now is the Chicago Blackhawks and all the hockey pundits are smiling as if they've just let loose a huge fart and blamed it successfully on someone else -- they called it. They all said the Wings would be too tired, too old, too every-excuse-in-the-book to compete for the Central Division again this season and the fresh new Hawks would reign. Well, statistics and standings say those smug, so-called experts are right on the money. I say they're still wrong.

If the Blackhawks hold on to win the first non-Detroit Central Division title in many years -- still a big 'if' in my book -- there's a huge mountain to climb afterward that they have no chance to summit: Lord Stanley's Cup. These Blackhawks won't win it. Here's why.

Cristobal Huet. He's never shown he can be counted on in the playoffs and his stats this season are ridiculously misleading. He has the seventh-best GAA in the league at 2.17, but that's all Duncan Keith and Brent Seabrook's doing. The better stat to look at is his 26th-best .908 save percentage. That's not going to get any better this year and it'll get worse in the playoffs. Huet is a headcase and he can't bail out his defense when they make a mistake. Goaltending is the most important piece of the puzzle in a Cup run, and the Hawks don't have it.

Marian Hossa. Sounds like sour grapes, doesn't it? Well, I won't deny that seeing him in a Hawk uniform or a Hawk headline makes me cringe a bit, but the motivation to have him on this list is warranted. Hossa was a no-show in last year's playoffs for the mighty Wings. He hid behind Zetterberg and Datsyuk and Franzen, and he'll do the same behind Toews and Kane and Sharp. The Hawks will count on him for points and he won't produce. He's not a clutch player; I learned that much last year when he disappeared in the two biggest games of his life (games six and seven of last year's finals). He's driving himself crazy trying to coast his way to a Cup, but a championship is earned (except of course in the Penguins' case). Hossa's lackadaisical playoff play will sink the Hawks.

Joel Quenneville. The guy's got a great resume, good rapport with his players and one helluva mustache, but that won't get you sippin' out of Stanley. Here's an interesting comparison for you. Quenneville-coached teams in the playoffs since 1996 have won nine series -- he beat the Kings, Coyotes, Sharks, Stars, Blackhawks, Stars, Wild, Flames, and Canucks. Quenneville-coached teams in the playoffs since 1996 have lost 10 series -- he faltered against Detroit, Detroit, Dallas, San Jose, Colorado, Detroit, Vancouver, Anaheim, Detroit and Detroit. Six of the teams he lost to went on to win Stanley Cups. None of the teams he's defeated strikes me as a legitimate contender. Translation: he can't win the big one. He's hockey's Marty Schottenheimer; he'll win plenty of games for ya and getcha into the playoffs, but don't plan on raising any banners the following season.
Jonathan Toews. One of the few players on the Hawks that I like and respect, Toews is a great player and has many great years ahead of him. But he's 21 years old and he'll be called upon to lead his team to a championship. Somehow, I don't see that ridiculous outcome happening two years in a row. Youth is tricky to judge, but in almost all cases, the veteran teams win out. I hope that bodes well for the Wings, but even if it doesn't, I can see other teams stepping in to level the chances of Toews and his baby Hawks.

Common sense and experience. A team two years removed from the league basement doesn't win a Stanley Cup. Maybe a Super Bowl or an NBA title, but not a Stanley Cup. The road is too long, too tough, too much for a bunch of young punks to break through that quickly. And they are a group of young punks: the only guy on their roster with his name on the Cup is John Madden, the Eastern-Conference version of Kris Draper.

It all adds up to one thing: they're just not there yet. Chicago hasn't won a Stanley Cup since 1961 -- that's 48 years for you English majors out there -- and that drought will stay dry for another season. As I see it, they'll be lucky to make it back to the conference finals. Go Wings.

Twenty Ten

2010-01-11T01:28:00.006-05:00

Happy New Year. It's been more than a month since my last post and there's no legitimate reason why. I've been writing constantly, though mostly in journal/grad-school essay form, and I've had a ridiculous amount of time on my hands during my 45-day winter break from school that ends in two weeks, but I haven't touched the blog and rarely read others anymore. I haven't read the Chief in months and I never make the usual trip down the blogroll to see what others are saying about the Red Wings' season anymore. (I still read the Triple Deke, but who doesn't? Those guys not only write hilarious and consistent posts, but now they're providing video entertainment too. A Blogger's Gold Standard, I say). Perhaps it's shame from not ever writing about the Wings anymore, but mostly it's just the fact that I'm getting a little sick of the NHL. Not hockey, not the Red Wings, not Datsyuk and Zetterberg and Lidstrom and Draper and all my favorites, but the NHL. I'm sick of everyone's infatuation with Crosby and Ovechkin. I'm sick of Pierre McGuire and NHL on NBC. I'm sick of everyone crowning the Blackhawks and the Sharks already. I'm sick of the injuries and call-ups the Wings are forced to use day in and day out. I'm sick of the Avalanche doing well despite a team no one thought could compete prior to the season. This season is just annoying. So, since it irritates me, it's hard to follow it the same way I usually do. Go Wings as usual, but with the exception of the Olympics, I say don't wake me til April.

Now that we have that squared away, I'll start by addressing the new year. It's 2010. That's twenty-ten or two-thousand-and-ten. I have no idea what I'll be doing in four months time. That prospect is slightly terrifying, but I'm 21 years old (22 come St. Patty's Day) and need not worry about the future just yet. I figure if I read enough books, write enough stories and make the most of my days, I'll find a way to make ends meet and enjoy my time doing it. Jobs are scarce, graduates are panicking. I could certainly fall right in line with that fear -- and I've had bouts of that thinking just about every day I've been home this winter -- but I'm going to make my main goal of 2010 to stay calm, take what comes my way and live. Just live. Sounds like something a hairy happy hippie might say, man, but that doesn't mean I'm going to throw my best shirts in a bowl of tie-dye and groove to the Dead's greatest hits. No; it's just a choice. I figure I won't have too many other periods of life where things are this good or this free, so why not just sit back and enjoy it.

Quick hits on some topics that have passed me by in my blogging absence:

The whole Tiger Woods situation surprised me. I'll admit it: the guy's an idiot for what he did. But it changes nothing about why I idolized him, why I still do. He plays golf really, really well, and I admire that. I love the game and I love watching him play it with unmatched skill. Maybe some will say that's ignorant, but I never really planned on taking notes about relationships or character from professional athletes. Seems like a road with more bad endings than good ones.
Pete Carroll's decision to leave USC for the NFL's Seahawks is a puzzling one. I really liked Carroll at USC and I don't understand his motive for leaving. Perhaps he'd like to feel what it's like to screw up a football program again rather than rebuild a contender.
The Colts were stupid to rest their starters and lose their last two games. A team's objective is to win games at any cost. I think it's stupid for a coach to ever think otherwise; it doesn't matter what you've wrapped up already. You play to win the game. It's that simple. You don't play for the Super Bowl. You play to win every down, every minute, every quarter, every game. That's the whole idea. When you lose sight of that by resting guys who don't need resting, you send the wrong message.

I'm all out of words, ideas and rants for the evening. I might be back soon or I might be gone another month. Hard to say without any real inclination of what each day will bring. I've resolved to read 100 books this year and I've already finished three through the first 10 days, but it'd be nice to get some suggestions in the comments for some others if you feel so inclined. Goodnight.

The Finished Product

2009-12-02T10:25:00.001-05:00

Here's the final product of my multimedia project about my dad and I running in the New York City Marathon. Enjoy.

What the hell is going on?

2009-11-30T22:27:00.004-05:00

This blog is basically toast. It should get back up to par over Christmas break when I get some time to write write write but it's been out of touch all semester. Who are the Red Wings even starting nowadays? I got Datsyuk, Zetterberg, Lidstrom, an 80-year-old man posing as Tomas Holmstrom, four Yzerman cutouts for intimidation, and a boxboy from Best Buy that loses fights and goes by the name of May. And who the hell is Drew Miller? I can't remember a time where I had absolutely no clue who a player was that was in the Red Wings organization, but Drew Miller fits that bill. I read his name on one of The Triple Deke's latest recaps so he must be real, but as far as I'm concerned he still pitches for the Tigers and was never traded to the Marlins.

Seriously, what's happening with the NHL right now? The Wings have won 13 games and lost 13 games and have about 13 injured players that are making about 13 million bucks apiece. I'm more confident in Jimmy Howard than I am in Chris Osgood, which isn't saying much but considering I thought of Jimmy Howard as more of an aborted fetus than a hockey player before the season started, I'm pretty surprised that he's risen to the occasion so quickly. I'm annoyed that the Hawks are doing so well, Hossa included, but since goaltending and coaching are two of the most important aspects of playoff hockey, I see a first-round choke job in their future. At least last year they had no expectations. This year, they'll be sure to keep Hossa on the personal train of epic life decision failures.

I'll end this ridiculously random post that does nothing but continue to show this blog as the old senile bastard of Red Wings blogs with a simple prediction that the Wings finish eighth in the conference and lead a 16-0 charge to Stanley's silver chalice. Hooah, what a season it will be. Go Detroit ~~Cougars!~~ ~~Falcons!~~ Red Wings!

The Captain

2009-11-10T23:37:00.004-05:00

Steve Yzerman. Stevie Y. The Captain. His long journey through the ranks of the NHL came to a close at the top this week, as he was rightly inducted into the Hockey Hall of Fame. People say it was an incredible Hall of Fame class with Brett Hull, Luc Robitaille and Brian Leetch too, but there's no one who compares to Yzerman. He's the greatest overall hockey player I've ever seen. I don't care if you show me statistics; I don't care if you show me highlights. He proved his worth to me with 22 years of loyalty to the Detroit Red Wings, with humble interviews and speeches, with unmatched skill in the 1980s and determination in the 1990s. He's a complete player and the game hasn't felt the same without him since his departure in 2006.

Steve Yzerman is the reason I love hockey. He's the reason I love the Detroit Red Wings. He's the reason I still cling to my first Red Wings jersey, even though now it fits me like a t-shirt would. I think my passion for all sports would be severely less developed and undoubtedly less passionate if not for Steve Yzerman. Why? It's his funky name that only hockey fans can seem to pronounce. It's his humility that showed the world that professional athletes don't all have to be stereotypical, money-grubbing buffoons. It's his tremendous skill that he used to make a name for himself then tossed in his back pocket when he realized it wasn't what the team needed to succeed. It's his goal in the 1996 quarters that will never cease to give me shivers.

It's his 19. There can never be another 19. It's his C. There will never be another captain like him. It's the way he picked up the Cup in 1997 and held it for all of Detroit. It's the way he handed it to Vladdie in the wheelchair in '98. It's the way he avoided the spotlight, despite the fact that he was the one everyone wanted to see and talk to. It's the determination to win another Cup. It's the selflessness to take less money so the team could go out and pay for more star players. It's in the grimaces. It's the way he dragged himself off the ice time after time in the 2002 playoffs. It's his gap-toothed smile.

There's no way I can encompass all that Steve Yzerman has meant to me as a Detroit Red Wings fan. He's got the top spot cemented for my favorite player of all-time; everyone else is just fighting for number two. I might wish for every other fan in the country to feel the same way about a certain player they look up to, but that's impossible. There's just no single athlete in the world like Steve Yzerman. There's a reason he's referred to as "God" in so many Red Wings circles: he's on par with one.

I don't know...his legacy has meant so much to me as a hockey fan that it was really special to see him in the spotlight again. Even though he was wearing a black suit and delivering a speech in Toronto, it almost felt like he had pulled on that Wings sweater again and was skating a lap or two around the Joe. I wish he'd never left the game, and I felt that an honorary post about him was necessary. I haven't touched on much Wings content this fall, but hopefully this does the franchise some justice. Stevie sure did.

Joyless Ride

2009-10-29T01:14:00.004-04:00

So newspapers are going down in flames it seems, best exemplified by our speaker in Advanced Newswriting: Multimedia class today who stressed, among other things, to "have a backup plan" because the future is so bleak for journalists today. This coming from a guy named Don Himsel, who has worked as a photo editor and staff member at the Nashua Telegraph for more than 2o years. However, Himsel fails to realize there will always be a ridiculous craving for news and a dire need for writers who can tell a good, newsworthy story. Just look at the latest New York Times series: Held by the Taliban. It took me more than an hour to read the whole thing online but I was so hooked I couldn't stop. It's true the Times and pretty much every other widespread newspaper in the country has cut staffers and slashed circulation numbers, but I just can't be pessimistic with some much reporting out there for the taking. Once newspapers find a way to move from print to online in an effective, efficient manner for business, jobs will be plentiful again. As Ray Liotta said in Blow, "When you're up it's never as good as it seems, and when you're down you feel like you'll never be up again, but life goes on." My future is coming at me; I have no choice but to jump in headfirst.

So that was a long introduction into what I wanted to do, which is try out a few hundred words for my Boston Globe internship application that needs to be on a) a memorable moment in my life, b) my favorite story I've written and why or c) someone who has influenced me greatly. I figure I'll try the first one because it gives me the most room to write how I want, and you readers (if you still exist out there) can comment and let me know in the next couple days what you think. I would appreciate any and all feedback you can give me.

A) A memorable moment in my life.

We had the keys. The cool air whisked past my overgrown hair as I whipped open the passenger door. My cousin Ezra and I, both 15, slumped into the Ford Taurus awkwardly. We were told to lock the car and grab my sister's headphones; we had something else in mind.

Ez pulled the shift in gear. Drive. He released the brake and stepped on the gas. Go.

I sat frightened and excited, watching the trees and suburban homes roll by. We barely touched the speed limit. Chico, California in late November is beautiful. We turned down side streets and let our minds wander. After what seemed like hours, we pulled into an empty parking lot.

Shit. This was a bad idea. I said it to no one. Ezra already knew. My heart started pounding in my throat. A cop drove by. We ducked and covered like schoolchildren.

"Do you have any idea how to get back?" Ezra asked, nerves and puberty present in his voice. Yeah, I think so, I lied. I took the wheel.

I had no idea where I was going. Our directions could have reinvented the compass. Every street had the same strange, unfamiliarity to it. San Ramon Drive. Glenshire Lane. Manor Circle. We knew only one thing: Uncle Peter's house was on Verde Court. A bead of sweat slid down my side as my white knuckles gripped the steering wheel. There's no way they don't know we're gone by now.

Panicked thoughts began racing through my mind. It was nearing mid-afternoon: Thanksgiving dinner would be ready soon. My dad would use that turkey knife to skin me, I was sure of it. My mom would call me Cameron, the full name that emptied my stomach. I needed to find a way back now, or else Ezra and I might have to interrupt Thanksgiving dinner with a call from jail.

Phew. North Avenue. I remembered that one from when we drove in. Verde connected directly to it. And not a moment later, there it was. We were saved.

Oh. No. Our hearts screamed as we saw familiar faces. The entire family was out on the front lawn, awaiting our return. Angry parents. Smirking sisters. Grampie's mouth wide as the open road.

I coasted in and jerked the shift in park. The car doors flew open and we were yanked out of the car before either of us could stammer an apology. Questions flew at us like bullets, each stinging with an embarrassing, overwhelming sensation. Busted.

We were told to rake the leaves in the backyard for the rest of the afternoon. A ball and chain would have been lighter on my conscience, but the punishment was mild. The guilt was a much heavier burden.

I eat Thanksgiving dinner with Ezra and his family every year. In the six years that have passed since that November afternoon joy ride, the story is still as fresh as the day it happened. They love telling it as much as we hate hearing it, but somehow I don't think Thanksgiving would be the same without it.

OK, that's 515 words. It needs to be 400 or less. Help me cut it down, please. I'm going to bed. Goodnight, and a Happy Halloween!

October Check-In

2009-10-14T23:06:00.005-04:00

So the Wings played bad against the Blues, decent against the Hawks and Caps and terrible against the Sabres. Who cares. The Wings will end up in the top three by season's end, and I'm plenty happy watching hockey from a distance right now. The Franzen thing isn't even all that worrisome to me, since I assume he'll come back just in time for his February to March craze of goals. That knee will heal and he'll be better for it.

My training for the New York City Marathon is coming to an end...only 17 more days before the big 26.2 through the five boroughs. I'm confident I can do it, but I must say I've been pretty lazy about my running this month. Only 10.3 miles through the first two weeks, and sometimes I run four times that in a single week. Yikes. We'll see if it matters come November.

I don't have much to report; I'm really only updating the blog for the sake of updating. I don't like to see it get all dusty in cyberspace. I feel like Yzerman Is God when that happens. Man, for a blog with such a sweet header graphic, wouldn't you think he'd update that place with a post more than twice a year? Oh well. Not everyone can be as consistent at Animal Drew or the Chief or Snipe Snipe. I honestly don't know why news outlets don't hire bloggers, since The Triple Deke and the other aforementioned bloggers write funnier, more entertaining and overall better stuff than most of the boring briefs I read on Freep or the Detroit News.

Yeah. So I haven't done much with those photoshop renderings I promised, but at some point I'll make another glorious one featuring the wunderkind Cindy Rosby and his merry men Geno Malkin and Maxime Talbot. Ooh, the internet might not even be able to handle that one. I'll have to tone the hate down for viewer's sake.

Now, I hate to disappoint the tiny following I have here at the blog, but this lack of timely posting will continue for a while with the GREs in a month, the newspaper to run and internship application deadlines inching closer. I tend to enjoy having a life, and while writing is a huge part of that, I haven't felt all that inspired recently. The Wings and Wolverines often fuel that inspiration, but at the moment I'm just not feeling all that compelled to put legitimate energy into a post. I'll definitely have somethin' sweet for you after the marathon on Nov. 1, but until then I can't make any promises.

This rambling probably wasted your time, but if you made it to the end here's a great video for your troubles:

NHL Predictions

2009-09-29T22:51:00.005-04:00

All these damned NHL predictions are popping up everywhere. The Triple Deke's got some, ESPN's so-called "experts" have chipped in their worthless two cents and I've decided to jump on the bandwagon. So, no bow or frills attached, here's a few things you should expect to see on the ice in 2009-2010.

Neither the Blackhawks nor the Capitals are making a run for the Cup. Sorry. Too much hype, too little goaltending, too shitty coaching. They'll be fun to watch, but everywhere I look people are picking the Caps and the Hawks, the Caps and the Hawks. Enough people. They're both above-average teams that don't have what it takes to win a championship. As Puckin' Right boldly suggests, I'm not even sure if the Hawks have what it takes to come in second in the Central. Speaking of which...
The Red Wings will win the Central again. They always do. We'll see about the postseason, but for now, there's nothing in this world that says the Wings won't at least win the Central and get a top two seed in the West.
The Penguins will be sucked into a black hole and disappear forever, never to return again as an NHL team. President Obama celebrates the occasion and declares a National Holiday where we sit around and eat cupcakes while insulting Rosby's unborn children.

That's all I'm predicting. I didn't say I'd have much, but I don't care enough to look up how the Atlanta Thrashers are going to do this year, so I'll stick to what I know: the Hawks and Caps are being ridiculously overrated right now, the Wings will win the Central and the Pens will no longer exist by the end of the year and the world will be better for it. I'll be waiting with that "I told you so" in June.

The Resurrection

2009-09-27T21:08:00.005-04:00

I'm back. Probably not on a regular basis because I've got a college newspaper to run with a brand new website and two hockey writing internships starting up soon (covering UNH men's hockey for USCHO.com and the Manchester Monarchs for InsideHockey.com) and I'd like to spend some time savoring this senior year of college, but I'll do my best to get back with some thoughtful content once every couple weeks.

Anyway, here's that Photoshop of the Anaheim Lovefest that I promised weeks ago. I'm no Photoshop pro yet, but I'm working on it. Regardless, I think its beauty outweighs its flaws.

I watched some Red Wings hockey tonight. Their final preseason game against *gulp* the whores of Pittsburgh. The Wings came out on top, 4-1, but I couldn't help but think of those painful mid-June days that made me want to coat myself in oil, light a match and jump of a cliff. And that troubled me. I've dealt with playoff disappointments before, but every other time I've been able to deal with it over the summer and don the Winged Wheel with pride again in the fall.

Not this time.

I still wear that glorious red jersey with pride, but there's a certain sting that accompanies it right now. I'm not sure I'm ready for hockey season. In fact, I'm practically dreading it.

In the past few years, I can barely stand to watch Versus or the NHL Network because of how much crap they spew about Pittsburgh and their highness, Ms. Cindy Rosby the Queen Bitch of Doucheland. And that was all before he "won" a championship. Now, can you imagine how many of Lil' Gary's NHL commercials are going to end with a clip of Rosby and the Cup? I want to puke just thinking about it.

There's so many reasons I'll be happy to see hockey games start up again: Lidstrom playing perfectly. Datsyuk dangle danglin'. Zetterberg and Franzen domination. Kronner's "illegal" hits. Raffy and the most potent power play in the league. Hell, even a little dose of Osgood and his schizophrenic, regular-season self will be a nice change from an inevitable Tigers' postseason loss and more of the same from the Lions.

But some scars have yet to heal. There was some asshole standing next to me at the bar this weekend wearing a Rosby shirt/jersey, and I nearly stabbed him with my straw out of mere instinct. I want the Wings to have their revenge, but I don't think I can handle about eight more months of waiting, all the while hearing about the Wings' demise and the Blackhawks' surge and the Penguins' repeat. Ugh.

I don't know. I can tell from other Wings' blogs that they're raring to go: Tyler at TheTripleDeke has promised a recap after every contest, Kris at Snipe Snipe, Dangle Dangle is posting all sorts of new excitement and Animal Drew at Nightmare on Helm Street is always on top of his game. But I'm not sure I want to jump on the ice just yet. I'm thinking a few more weeks of following these new Michigan Wolverines sounds a lot better, while I keep an eye on the Wings from the shadows. I'll join 'em when I'm ready. Now just seems like a little too soon.

A Forcier of Nature

2009-09-13T12:03:00.002-04:00

I can't say enough about this kid. So poised, so good, so fun to watch. I can't wait to see what the rest of the season holds. Suck it, Notre Dame.

A blogging mess.

2009-09-08T20:47:00.002-04:00

Yep, that's what I've become. I didn't post a single thing after Michigan stomped Western, I haven't read anything except The Triple Deke and the occasional Animal Drew Nightmare on Helm Street in weeks. I've even let my following of the Chief slide and finally caught up tonight. Yikes. I almost forgot hockey season is only 22 days away (the Wings play some team I can't pronounce, spell or even look at without losing brain function on Sept. 30).

There's no point to this post, except to get Rich Rod's face off the top of the blog and replace it with the God of Gods. Figured that in itself was worth a post.

Look for upcoming photoshop masterpieces, even if it's only once or twice a week. All your favorites will be glorified and all the usual bitches will be brought to a destructive and hateful end. My first target: those Duck Punks Perry and Getzlaf. Maybe a little Greybeard Niedermayer too. Stay tuned.

The Reclamation of Pride

2009-08-25T00:36:00.000-04:00

University of Michigan football. It dominates my life in the fall, and I'm just as enthusiastic this year despite their 3-9 record last year. Why? Well, the fact that I can have optimism about sports after the Red Wings' loss is reason to jump for joy in itself, but also because Coach Rod has a few more of his guys in place and another year of his system in the making. I'm psyched for college football's return, and I think Michigan has a good chance to completely turn around from last year's embarrassments and take a step or two in the right direction. Here's my official preview of the 2009 Michigan Wolverines.

First, let's look at the schedule. It's not hard. At all. I count five games that Michigan should even have the possibility of losing. But then again, they did lose to Toledo at home last year, so I can't really make those assumptions. Anyway, here's the schedule with my own preseason predictions:

Western Michigan. Win, 34-10.
Notre Dame. Win, 23-20.
Eastern Michigan. Win, 27-14.
Indiana. Win, 31-23.
at Michigan State. Win, 45-38 in 2OT.
at Iowa. Loss, 10-28.
Delaware State. Win, 24-3.
Penn State. Win, 14-13.
at Illinois. Loss, 17-23.
Purdue. Win, 42-31.
at Wisconsin. Loss, 20-27.
Ohio State. Win. 1,000,000-0.

That last score against the Backstabbing Bastards from Buckeye Country should tell you all you need to know about my predictions: they're just about as useful as a fork when you're eating tomato soup. I know nothing about how this year will turn out, but my endless optimism about Michigan and their beautiful winged helmets and their unmatched fight song tell me they will reverse the curse of a crappy year and take a 3-9 (2-6) record in 2008 to 9-3 (5-3) in 2009.

Why did I make such a crazy prediction you ask? Here's a few reasons.

First, they play eight of 12 games at home. That's not only ridiculous, it's pretty damn helpful. They play four softies in a row in the Big House and I think if they can manage to win all of those games, they can get a little momentum rolling and win a tough road game (Michigan State) and another couple big games down the stretch (Penn State, Ohio State).

Obviously, that's a stretch to begin with. But they've got lots of talent coming in and I've always believed in freshmen players more than I should because I've been blessed with watching the incredible freshmen years of Chad Henne, Mike Hart and John Navarre, among others. I've also seen guys like Adrian Peterson, Pat White and Steve Slaton dominate in their freshmen years. So, why not Michigan's Tate Forcier (below left) or Denard Robinson (below right)? Forcier looks great from the video I've seen and the articles I've read, and all the hype about Robinson makes him sound like the second-coming of Michael Vick - Virginia Tech version. How can I not be excited?

And, as Michigan Sports Center writes, everyone is making wayy too big of a deal about the whole "Michigan is going to start 3 QBs in their season opener" thing. Here's RichRod's exact quote from media day:

“In what order and how many, I couldn’t tell you,” Rodriguez said Sunday at media day. “Right now, all three of them look like they’re going to play in the opener.

“Again, it’s two weeks out. There is a lot going to happen in the next two weeks.”

Hmm...after reading that today, I have no idea what all the hubbub is about. Did anyone quote him? Everyone just made a huge leap and assumed that RichRod would actually play all three QBs in the opener. From that quote, it sounds to me like the competition between Sheridan, Forcier and Robinson is way too close to call and he has no idea who will be his starter yet. Maybe three QBs will play, maybe two or maybe just one. But nothing in that quote tells me for sure that all three will play, so that's a calming breeze for everyone freaking out about the possibility of a quarterback carousel. My vote? I'm pulling for Forcier, with some Robinson thrown in at tailback. That's a deadly combination in my imagination.

Next, they have Zoltan Mesko. Never heard of him? Shame on you. He's the best punter in the NCAA and probably the best kicker Michigan's had in a while. Since I imagine Michigan will be punting a lot while they try to hit their stride in the first few games, Zoltan the Space Emperor will help the Wolverines keep good field position and give some confidence to the defense. It can't be good that I'm lavishing praise at Michigan's punter and hailing him as a key point to their success, but how can you doubt a guy with a name like Zoltan Mesko?

Finally, it's Michigan football. From the helmets with wings to the song the crowd sings, Michigan football is about pride and the players, coaches and fans represent the best college football program in history. Last year, they were written off from the beginning and a laughingstock by season's end, but one year doesn't erase history. One year doesn't mean anything. Sure, it sucked from a fan's point of view. But that's over now. It's time to reclaim that pride, that history, that sense of entitlement. Let's. Go. Blue!

10 Reasons My Life is Better than Rosby's

2009-08-24T16:29:00.004-04:00

Much like every morning this summer since the fateful night of June 12th, 2009, this morning I woke up with a taste of hatred. It often doesn't last long and I'm able to overcome the feeling, but today I've just been hating hating hating on that whiny little Penguins bitch Cindy Rosby. Today the feeling stuck with me all day and has kept me in a sour mood, until now.

In an effort to alleviate some of that hatred and also count my blessings in a way, here's 10 reasons that I came up with as to why I'm 100% glad to be Cameron Kittle and not whiny little Penguins bitch Cindy Rosby.

I've touched the Stanley Cup and I had to fellate exactly zero NHL Commissioners to do it.
I've never sucker-punched another man in the nether regions.
My name isn't Sidney.
I went to college.
I'm not widely hated by an entire sport's fanbase.
I can truthfully say in my shortened hockey career that I never once dived to draw a penalty.
I don't sleep in a crib or ask for a pacifier when I need to calm down.
I don't demand my boss to pay me a ridiculous salary just because I'm good at what I do.
I earned the only 'C' I ever wore in hockey, even if it was in Pee Wees.
I'm not a bitch.

Ahh. That's better. As I always say...a Rosby-rant a day keeps the hatred at bay.

The Return of the Movie Review

2009-08-17T12:19:00.003-04:00

I used to review movies whenever I saw them in this space. Then it slowly became taken over by Michigan football and Detroit Red Wings hockey. Now, it's summer and I've had little to write about either subject. I smell a comeback.

This summer I have watched 26 new movies and probably just as many that I'd seen before. That totals about three or four days' worth of my life that I won't get back anytime soon. Some of the choices were amazing ones, and others not so much. This post is going to be long enough as it is, so without further ado, your ridiculous list of movies in the order that I watched and reviewed them, with a whole new grading scale from 0-100.

The Hangover: 95. Absolutely amazing. The funniest movie of the summer with a great cast of characters. So many quotable parts and awesome little scenes (like Zack Galifianakis as Rain Man coming down the escalator) made this such a fun movie to watch. The immense amount of previews looked like it would be a bad omen, but it turned out that the previews didn’t even live up to how good the movie was. So. Hilarious. I loved it and saw it twice in theaters.

He’s Just Not That Into You: 72. I actually liked this movie, which is why it gets a low rating. That doesn’t make sense, you say? Well, I watched it alone in my apartment for one and then I saw it again with a bunch of family members later on. Nothing tells you how lonely and pathetic you are quite like seeing a sappy chick flick more than once. That being said, the cast was full of all-stars, Justin Long and Ginnifer Goodwin were hilarious and it showed me how crazy women can be. I liked it, but I’ve lost enough self respect having seen the movie twice so I can’t possibly give it a decent rating.

Slumdog Millionaire: 88. It’s always hard to watch a movie after it won Best Picture because you always feel like the expectations are too high to begin with. I really liked Slumdog, but it didn’t quite live up to what I envisioned. The plot was quite clever and the way the film was set up was awesome (revealing each question and then showing how he finds the answers). The acting was great, the girl was beautiful and you could really feel what the actors wanted you to feel. I don’t know why this doesn’t get up to the A level, but somehow it just didn’t feel as amazing as I thought it would be.

Seven Pounds: 84. Another meaningful film by Will Smith that makes you think. It was a little slow and I didn’t understand what was happening for a while, but it was a good movie by the end. It wasn’t exactly my type of movie, which is why it’s rating isn’t as high as it could be, but some unbelievable acting from Will Smith, as you’d expect, keeps it in the solid B range. Pretty solid movie overall.

Fanboys: 85. Hilarious. Much better than I anticipated. Probably my favorite role ever for Seth Rogen, and that’s saying something. I didn’t like how they tried to be serious with the whole friend who had cancer and died thing because it had nothing to do with the movie and added nothing to the movie, but there were plenty of moments of raucous laughter. The cast was awesome, with plenty of hilarious actors that aren’t all that famous (Chris Marquette, Jay Baruchel, Danny McBride, Ethan Suplee, Roy and Darryl from the Office, Will Forte, Jay and Silent Bob). The cameos from Shatner, Billy D. Williams, Carrie Fisher were awesome too. Oh, and Kristen Bell in the Leia outfit from Return of the Jedi might be the best thing my eyes have ever seen.

Body of Lies: 84. Interesting movie. A plot I didn’t see coming, and a twist at the end that was quite clever. I wasn’t overly impressed by either Russell Crowe’s or Leo DiCaprio’s performance, but that probably has something to do with the fact that I expect them to be beyond outstanding in any movie, considering track records. Good action movie with some cool espionage and gruesome torture scenes. Solid effort.

Gran Torino: 91. Really, really good in so many ways. Subtle comedy, good action, lots of suspense, touching compassion, inevitable sense of right and wrong. Clint Eastwood was incredible. The other no-name actors and actresses were actually pretty bad, especially one particular scene where it was supposed to be tense and dramatic and I laughed to myself because the scream was so lame and poorly executed, but Eastwood more than made up for it. His character was truly complex and great at heart. Stone cold on the outside, warm in the right places on the inside. I’ve been pleasantly surprised by just about everything I’ve seen with Clint Eastwood. He’s an amazing actor, and this was one of his better roles that I’ve seen.

The Taking of Pelham 123: 90. I saw this one in theaters the day after I saw Gran Torino, and I liked it just as much. Denzel was great as a meek, civil servant working for the city of New York and John Travolta was even better as an insane criminal with some serious overall knowledge. The plot was very interesting and the suspense was amazing. I spent so much time on the edge of my seat that I cramped up and had to lie back a little. I can’t say it was the best movie of the summer, but it was worth the price of admission and lived up to my expectations. Go see it.

Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist: 82. Cute, but meh. I usually like the feel-good movies with Michael Cera, but I didn’t like this as much as I thought I would. Cera was still hilarious, and I thought it was a funny and enjoyable movie, but it wasn’t quite what I expected or hoped for I guess. So, not much rhyme or reason behind the lower-than-usual score, but I just wasn’t impressed. Good soundtrack though.

Defiance: 88. Horrifying and heroic. Action packed and thoughtful. Daniel Craig kept his acting resume intact as far as I’m concerned and came through in spades with this role as a rebel Jew fighting to survive against the Germans in World War II. A touching true story that hardly anyone knows and movie that does it justice. There really wasn’t anything I didn’t like about the movie; it had just about everything, but it was slow at times and you need to be in the right mood to see it.

Sex Drive: 80. About what I expected. Crappy, but moments of hilarity. But a stupid premise, bad acting, and expected outcomes were nixed by incredible hot girls without shirts, Clark Duke (he just makes me laugh in pretty much everything) and Seth Green as the Amish guy. Probably not worth the couple hours I spent lying around watching it, but it’s another movie on the list. Clark Duke and Michael Cera should team up in a movie – other than their tiny scene together in Superbad – because they would be awesome. Just a thought.

Zack and Miri Make a Porno: 70. Why did I watch this movie? I really don’t know. It seemed like a better alternative to Bride Wars, but that remains to be seen. It was the typical Seth-Rogen style comedy, even if it was directed by Silent Bob instead of Judd Apatow. Definitely some funny parts, but I’d probably rather have those two hours back and go on living my life rather than have a few jokes in my head. Too late now, I guess.

Vicky Christina Barcelona: 86. Crazy movie. Very unpredictable, and I like that. Great acting, interesting story and the use of a narrator made it a very atypical movie from everything else I’ve watched so far. I wasn’t sure what to make of the ending, or the overall message, but I liked it. It certainly was a nice change-up from the previous two nights when I watched sub-par comedies with tired jokes and ridiculous plots and characters. Also, I found a new definition of beauty in the multiple kissing scenes shared by Penelope Cruz and Scarlett Johansson. Not that such a magnificent image would affect its score or anything.

Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen: 92. I don’t think I can put it above the Hangover as my favorite movie of the summer just yet, but it was awesome. I liked it so much that I almost forgot I went to see it by myself in the theater. It was hilarious; some of the dialogue and funny sequences were just side splitting (I hope Michael Bay planned for that and didn’t just do it on accident). The action was incredible (what else would you expect from a Bay film?) and of course, any movie with Megan Fox in a starring role gets an automatic 85 points. Luckily, this one was good enough to bump it up an extra few.

Public Enemies: 86. Above average. It was slow and a bit artsy-fartsy, but still an awesome story and Johnny Depp was badass. Christian Bale was less than impressive, but he didn’t make the film worse, I suppose. The old cars, guns, fashion and everything was cool; I always kind of like movies set in the 1930s because it takes real film expertise to make it realistic. That said, it wasn’t enthralling and moved a little slowly for a movie about gangsters. Solid effort and worth the money, but not as good as I hoped.

Bruno: 55. If Borat was mostly funny and kind of gross, Bruno was incredibly gross and kind of funny. I mean yes, I was laughing most of the time, but a lot of it was out of pure discomfort. The majority of the laughs were in the trailers, and there were way too many naked male body parts. For a movie that was only an hour and a half, it sure threw in a lot of penis. Acceptable in funny ways like Forgetting Sarah Marshall, but not so acceptable in a movie like Bruno.

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince: 88. It could have been the best movie of the summer. By far. But the ending was so aggravating it fell all the way out of A range. I still think it was probably the best Harry Potter yet, but the lack of accuracy in the last 15 minutes drove me crazy. No fighting, no spellbinding curses at Harry and no Dumbledore pleading. I wasn’t pleased. The first two hours were great: not that much crappy acting that I’d come to expect from the Potter series, some good action and hilarious dialogue. So, I guess that puts it above average, even if the ending annoyed me.

Paul Blart - Mall Cop: 80. Kevin James is funny, but this movie was pretty stupid. Mostly predictable and a pretty lame plot keep this one at a low score, but I’m happy I saw it. The mall cop character was perfect for Kevin James, and he seems to get better with every movie he does. Always a strong comedian. Not much else to say, expect I thought it was hilarious to see Todd, the gay son from Wedding Crashers, play the uber-badass bank robber in this flick. Pretty funny contrast, I must say.

My Best Friend’s Girl: 85. Dane Cook. That’s all you need to know. He’s at his absolute best in this one. Yes, it was a sappy romantic comedy by the end of it, but the sheer amount of vulgarity was enough to win me over. Guy humor, what can I say? The Dane Train was in perfect form, especially in the incredibly ass-holistic scenarios. Jason Biggs was a good fit too, and Kate Hudson is gorgeous. Winner winner, underrated chicken dinner. Not bad, considering my expectations were at “beyond awful” and could really only go up from there.

500 Days of Summer: 90. It takes real ingenuity to make a pretty basic plotline (boy meets girl over the summer) and turn it into something original and special. I thought this indie flick was very good, and it made me laugh and think about relationships as a whole. It was a little cheesy, especially the part at the end, but I can enjoy cheesy sometimes. It also based a lot of its story on fate, which isn’t something I strongly believe in but is something I think about and consider from time to time. So, overall, a very pleasurable movie experience.

Iron Man: 94. Yeah, I’m a year late on this one. I heard all the hubbub about it last summer when everyone was saying they loved it and I kept finding excuses not to see it. I assumed it was just another superhero movie and about a character I cared little about. But when I finally saw it on a very hungover Saturday afternoon, I loved it. Robert Downey Jr. was awesome, Gwyneth Paltrow was beautiful and Jeff Bridges was a decent villain. It was nothing like a stereotypical superhero movie, and it might even be the best superhero movie I’ve seen, including the Dark Knight. Absolutely awesome.

The Hurt Locker: 93. Really great. It honestly makes me rethink the military. I thought the characters were amazing, the story was very interesting and I was on the edge of my seat the whole time. There are very few movies where I can’t predict anything that’s going to happen with any certainty, but this was one of them. The bomb technicians angle was so cool, just because it’s not the typical story of a soldier, but once you realize the struggle that everyone’s going through collectively in the warzone, that’s what makes the movie great.

Funny People: 86. Pretty hilarious, but way too long. Plenty of great scenes and I loved having a movie centered around stand-up comedy, but two and a half hours was ridiculous. The old Adam Sandler videos were awesome to see though, so the movie kept me entertained throughout. I just wanted it to end a little earlier and make a little more sense. Why was Leslie Mann’s character even in the movie? Solid effort from Apatow though.

Pride and Glory: 96. Amazing. Nothing to do but put it at the top of the list. Edward Norton. Colin Farrell. Corrupt cops and lots of intense violence. I had no idea where the movie was going or how it would end, and that made it all the more awesome. I really can’t believe that more people haven’t heard about this movie. It’s absolutely incredible.

Miss March: 47. I have no idea why I rented this movie. It was a pretty bad plot idea with no good actors or actresses whatsoever. There were a few hilarious parts, especially with Daryll from The Office as the rap superstar “Horsedick.mpeg” (coincidentally one of the best fake rap names ever). The movie itself though was completely awful.

Children of Men: 86. Quite enjoyable. Clive Owen rarely disappoints and he was very good in this role. The plot was interesting and the whole concept of infertile women was pretty intense to think about. I didn’t really like the ending much, but overall the movie was definitely worth watching. Better than average for sure, and almost extraordinary.

I've still got a couple movies to see before the summer's over, but who knows if I'll review them here. I've rented the International with Clive Owen and I still want to see Inglorious Basterds with Brad Pitt, Taking Woodstock with Demetri Martin, Extract with Jason Bateman, and eventually Couples Retreat with Vince Vaughn.

Clearly, I've seen too many movies this summer, but hopefully these reviews will help you avoid a couple disappointments and find a couple new movies to enjoy. Oh, and only 19 days until Michigan opens the season against Western Michigan. Awesome.

I want this.

2009-08-12T20:37:00.004-04:00

I haven't obsessively played Guitar Hero since the third game for PlayStation 2 came out a couple years ago, but this new game makes me want to shell out a few hundred bucks to pick up the time-waster again. Plus, it comes out on Sept. 9, 2009. (09/09/09). How cool is that?

This just looks like so much fun, especially considering they made custom instruments to look exactly like the ones the greatest band in history played back in the 60s and 70s. Also, when you master certain songs, you get little sound bites and pictures and videos of rarely seen or never released Beatles interactions. SO cool. Also...this just in, I'm a nerd.

A Red Wings Fantasy

2009-08-10T22:31:00.003-04:00

It's Monday evening, and I'm bored. I'm watching the Tigers lose to the Red Sox, therefore forfeiting any potential bragging rights at work tomorrow, and this idea just came to me. I haven't updated my blog in a week and I thought it could be a nice corollary to The Triple Deke's Bored series. This is basically taking the dreamed-up stories I used to write in elementary school and mixing in some pride, immaturity and hatred.

The Detroit Red Wings:

Line 1 (The Hall of Fame Line): Shanahan - Yzerman - Hull
Line 2 (The From Russia With Love Line): Larionov - Datsyuk - Fedorov
Line 3 (The Millennium Line) : Franzen - Zetterberg - Helm
Line 4 (The Grind Line): Maltby - Draper - McCarty

Defense 1 (The Perfect Pairing): Lidstrom - Rafalski
Defense 2 (The Fulton and Portman Pairing): Kronwall - Konstantinov
Defense 3 (The Didn't Get Enough Time With the Wings Pairing): Fischer - Coffey

Goalie 1 (The '02 Version): Hasek
Goalie 2 (The Love/Hate Relationship): Ozzie

Coach (The Man, The Myth, The Legend): Scotty Bowman

The Unbearable Douche Bags:

Line 1 (The Blind Hatred Line): Turtle Lemieux - Bitch Rosby - Corey Perry
Line 2 (The Ulcer Inducing Line): Punk Getzlaf - Forsberg - Selanne
Line 3 (The Unknown Line): Valeri Kamensky - Girl's Name Talbot - Adam Deadtomemarsh
Line 4 (The Thug Line): Purse Admirer Avery - ESPN FAIL Matthew Barnaby - Jordin Tootoo

Defense 1 (The People's Elbow Pairing): Sasquatch Pronger - French Bitch Beauchemin
Defense 2 (The Grumpy Old Men Pairing): Greybeard Niedermayer - Adam Foote
Defense 3 (The Hall of Shame Pairing): Cupcheater Bourque - Scott Stevens

Goalie 1 (Oh Sweet Baby Jesus Let This Man Burn In Hell): Patrick Roy
Goalie 2 (The Frustrating Quiet One): J.S. Giguere

Coach (The Insane Lunatic): Marc Crawford

In the Press Box:

Commentators: Gary Thorne and Bill Clement
On Ice Level: Darren Pang
NHL Commissioner: Kenny Holland

First Period:

Every Red Wings player scores, and Crawford leaves Roy in out of stupidity. Datsyuk puts up a hat trick. Lidstrom's slapper from the point shaves off Niederelbow's beard, hits Bourque in the balls and knocks out all of Pronger's teeth. Then Roy tries to statue-of-liberty it and Yzerman slaps him as Shanahan pokes it in. Rosby sits and cries in the corner, holding a candid portrait of his recently-deceased lover Lil' Gary Bettman. Konstantinov and Kronwall don't get any penalties for their bruising tactics, except for when they team up on Lemieux and break his face. Helm scores a shorthanded goal speeding up the sideline and the puck barely glances off Roy's glove like that goal Marty Lapointe scored back in 1997. Period ends with the Red Wings up 25-0.

Second Period:

Crawford has a heart attack and is replaced by Assistant Coach Joel Quenneville. Red Wings double their lead after Professor Larionov teaches the Unbearable Douches a lesson in goal scoring. He makes visionary passes to Fedorov, who laces up his awesome white Nike skates and dances around every player with the grace and ease of the mid-90s. Getzlaf and Perry have sex in the corner while admiring each other's hair and reciting their new fraternity pledge, and Beauchemin and Girl's Name Talbot surrender immediately at the slightest Red Wings rush. Roy stays in net and whines to be traded. Buzzer sounds with the Winged Wheels up 91-0.

Third Period:

McCarty turtles Lemieux off the opening faceoff. Roy gets pulled for third-stringer Jon Casey just so Yzerman can do this, then Roy is thrown back to the wolves. McCarty takes a shift off so Maltby and Kocur can re-enact the best moment of their lives from the 1997 finals (what?! no video!). Scott Stevens and Pronger try to cheap shot Yzerman collectively, miss him on the boards, and tear their ACLs. New NHL rules demand they play through it. Avery, wearing a pink jersey with a doll and a purse on the front, chops both of them on the kneecap with his stick even though he's their teammate because he's just that much of an Unbearable Douche. Zetterberg and Franzen put their beards together like the WonderTwins and form the Beard of Justice. It engulfs Jordin Tootoo and rids him of this world. The crowd goes crazy. Don't Stop Believin' starts playing and the PA cuts the volume for "Born in South Detroit." Game ends. Red Wings win 1919-0. Kenny Holland hands Yzerman the Cup, which has recently been re-engraved to award the Red Wings with every championship back to 1893.

Postgame:

I'm picked to go down into the locker room and meet all the players. Yzerman invites me out to dinner. Datsyuk's cell phone rings. Shanahan holds the Cup for me as I drink cold Blue Moon from it. The players say what the hell and have the white-glove guy engrave my name on Lord Stanley too. Right next to Stevie's. We all take magical sober pills and are about to leave in matching Detroit Red Wings Mini Coopers for a race where it's impossible for any of us to get hurt when we see Rosby still sobbing in the corner of the ice. We all get a turn kicking him in the nuts. I book a tee time with Shanny, Drapes and Liddy at Pebble Beach. We stay in touch.

Oh, what a dream.

Claims

2009-08-03T15:58:00.012-04:00

These are claims. Some outlandish, some offensive. They are all my opinion. Please feel free to refute them in the comments.

Baseball is too slow, but Verlander makes it tolerable.

UFC is a ridiculous fad and should not be advertised or promoted. It's basically human cockfighting.

Drivers who sit in a slow lane of traffic should not be angry at other drivers who whiz past them in the completely empty lane and then merge into the slow lane at the end of all the traffic. It's a simple matter of herd-following idiocy and independent intelligence.

Twitter is addicting at work but almost nonexistent at home.

Joe Paterno is too old to continue coaching football.

It doesn't matter if NASCAR is postponed to a Monday with no other sports activity; the only ones watching will be shirtless men, toothless women and/or brainless humans.

Tiger Woods will finish with 21 major championships.

Nicklas Lidstrom will win the Norris Trophy again.

Sarah Palin might, in fact, be less intelligent than former President George W. Bush.

People who follow/enjoy/don't-want-to-kill-themselves-watching-and-or-listening-to Sarah Palin might, in fact, be less intelligent than NASCAR fans.

I probably offended at least one reader with one or both of those last two comments.

Newspapers need to start making people pay for news content. The uproar would be huge in the beginning, but they would reluctantly give in bit by bit.

It's weird to hear an older adult swear in casual conversation.

It's annoying that Jim Tressel is a classy human being because makes it that much harder to hate his guts.

This year, Michigan will finish 9-4, upset Ohio State and win the Alamo Bowl. This claim falls into the outlandish category. I stand by it.

Tim Tebow will win a second Heisman Trophy.

The Winter Classic at Fenway Park this year will be good, but not great. Stupid Flyers.

I don't have any idea what the people at Old Spice were thinking, but their new online advertisement is not okay. Here's a hint: that "armpit" can be easily misconstrued as some other body part with copious amounts of hair. Gross.

Selectmen's meetings are some of the most boring hours of a young man's life.

And with that, I'm off to the Manchester Selectmen's meeting. Ouch.

Stewart, Colbert the new Kronkite, Murdoch

2009-07-28T20:59:00.005-04:00

Maybe the title is a bit exaggerated, but here's my point. John Stewart on the Daily Show and Stephen Colbert on the Colbert Report are some of the best outlets for no-bullshit news. I originally wrote "unbiased," but I think the incredibly democratic feeling of the crowds in their New York studios takes that word off the table. I do believe though, that both Stewart and Colbert pick on both sides of the party and hold them accountable for their ridiculous actions.

Because I'm a democrat, I probably liked this little segment a little too much but it explains exactly what I'm talking about.

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart

Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c

Quitter

www.thedailyshow.com

Daily Show
Full Episodes

Political Humor

Joke of the Day

Palin quit. She did. It doesn't matter what you think about her. She made a promise to fulfill her term, and she didn't do it. She quit. John Stewart knows that, and he's allowed to say it because he's got his own TV show. He's calling her out for humor, but he's also doing it because the rest of the media can't seem to just say that. CNN will throw Chris Matthews at you and he'll criticize her decision, and FOX will have Bill O'Reilly come on TV and say he supports the move. It's like nobody ever reports just what happened anymore.

Stewart and Colbert don't really do that either, but at least they swim through the waves of crap to find the real truth and make it funny and enjoyable. They make the news a joke because most of the time, it is a joke.

And just to prove that they do it on both sides, here's another clip showing my favorite president Obama screwing the pooch on his overreaction and "apology" in reference to the Skip Gates issue.

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart

Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c

Henry Louis-Gate

www.thedailyshow.com

Daily Show
Full Episodes

Political Humor

Joke of the Day

I don't have as much fire for this argument because it gets complicated when you try to assess the major networks as a whole with all of their shows in comparison to just two shows on Comedy Central, but I thought the idea needed to be said.

John Stewart and Stephen Colbert are some of the best sources to hold the media accountable. It's true. Watch their shows for an hour and then turn to some national news on those lesser-used lower TV channels. You'll see the difference not just in enjoyability, but also in the no-bull-crap attitude.

Yo ho, yo ho, a journalist's life for me.

2009-07-27T21:19:00.006-04:00

When was the last time you were called "a little fucking prick" to your face?

It sure doesn't happen often, but it happened to me tonight. So I thought, a story's in order.

It starts with an article I wrote last Wednesday. I interviewed a bunch of people to try and learn as much as I could about clams and their buyers, sellers and diggers in Essex, Mass., and I came out with about 900 words about the bivalve shellfish.

The first guy I interviewed, Kelly Corrao, was a little fidgety and awkward. He was tentative but aggressive, and he knew a ridiculous amount about clams. I talked to him for a while and got some really great information for the story. He said that Periwinkles and Tom Shea's, two Essex restaurants right on Main Street, had taken steamers off the menu because clam prices were so high. He told me he didn't want me to print the particular names of the restaurants because it would be bad for his business. So I told him that I wouldn't attribute the information to him.

Five days later, he saw me at an event I was covering and stopped me. He said I was a "little fucking prick" and that he'd never talk to me again. He wasn't quiet about it.

I maintain that I did nothing wrong, but I'll let you be the judge.

Here's what I wrote in my story last week:

Kelly Corrao, owner of Essex Shellfish on Centennial Grove Road, a seafood wholesaler that usually buys directly from local clammers, said he has been ordering most of his clams from Maine despite the widespread red tide closures along much of that state's coastline.

Corrao has been amazed at the high prices; he said that a week and a half ago he was selling bushels at $170 each. Anything over $100 per bushel, about 60 pounds, is good, he said, but he hasn't seen the price climb that high in a long time.

"Prices were out sight," he said. "They were so high it was bad for business. People were taking it off the menu, and this is a clam town."

Make no mistake, I quoted him accurately. But later in the story, I talked to a chef at Tom Shea's who had taken clams off the menu and then to another chef, this one from Periwinkles, who actually said he never took clams off the menu and wouldn't ever consider doing so. I believe those sources and that particular piece of information is what ruffled Kelly's feathers.

Corrao believes I promised him I wouldn't print the names of the restaurants. I didn't. He believes what I did was wrong and disloyal to his word. I disagree.

See, what Kelly doesn't understand is that even as an intern, I have a job to do. I'm responsible for researching, interviewing and writing every story to the best of my ability. Sometimes I leave the "to the best of my ability" part a little unfulfilled, but not with this clam story. I didn't want to write it when the idea was pitched, but I enjoyed it by the end.

Research means finding information and investigating it. So when I found out that clam prices were high, I had to ask why. I also had to ask what that meant for business. Corrao said "some restaurants" had taken clams off the menu. He could have stopped there. I would have found out anyway. Periwinkles and Tom Shea's are on Main Street and I know both the owners by name now that I've worked in Essex for nine weeks. I wouldn't have turned a blind eye. Maybe I wouldn't have talked to them first, but all Corrao really did was speed up my search.

I told him I wouldn't attribute that information to him, and I didn't. I left the subject broad, from his perspective. But that didn't mean I wouldn't pursue it further.

If I told my editor that "some restaurants" had taken clams off the menu and didn't say who in the story, he would've given me a quiet-but-serious-verbal slap in the face and questioned my instincts as a reporter. So I did my job. I researched, I interviewed and I wrote.

And apparently, that's what Corrao was mad about. He gave me some information, told me he'd appreciate it if I didn't print it and then assumed I had promised him I would write a one-source story without any concrete information.

I can see my actions being considered a little weasely, at worst, but certainly not worthy of such an aggressive interaction. It scared me a little, considering he nearly followed me out to my car, but I sniffed out his bark-but-no-bite threat by the time I put the key in the ignition.

Still, it bothered me. It's not easy to simply shake it off when a middle-aged man calls out a 21-year-old the way he did. But maybe that's the kind of reaction a good investigative journalist gets from time to time. I don't really know. I just thought it would make for a good story.

Reilly Overload

2009-07-22T14:39:00.003-04:00

I've got Rick Reilly on the brain. In the past month, I've read three of his books (Missing Links, Shanks for Nothing, and The Life of Reilly) and continued to monitor his spot on ESPN.com for his weekly column. I watched his Homecoming special with Michael Phelps. I'm entirely convinced I'll never in my lifetime be as great a writer as he is. I love his metaphors. He's just fantastic. And today, he came out with what I think is his best column of the year. It deserves more than just a link; I'm quoting the whole thing right here for simplicity. Enjoy.

Tiger Woods has outgrown those Urkel glasses he had as a kid. Outgrown the crazy hair. Outgrown a body that was mostly neck.
When will he outgrow his temper?
The man is 33 years old, married, the father of two. He is paid nearly $100 million a year to be the representative for some monstrously huge companies, from Nike to Accenture. He is the world's most famous and beloved athlete.
And yet he spent most of his two days at Turnberry last week doing the Turn and Bury. He'd hit a bad shot, turn and bury his club into the ground in a fit. It was two days of Tiger Tantrums -- slamming his club, throwing his club and cursing his club. In front of a worldwide audience.
A whole lot of that worldwide audience is kids. They do what Tiger does. They swing like Tiger, read putts like Tiger and do the celebration biceps pump like Tiger. Do you think for two seconds they don't think it's cool to throw their clubs like Tiger, too?
He's grown in every other way. He's committed, responsible, smart, funny and the most talented golfer in history. I just thought we'd be over the conniptions by now.
If there were no six-second delay, Tiger Woods would be the reason to invent it. Every network has been burned by having the on-course microphone open when he blocks one right into the cabbage and starts with the F-bombs. Once, at Doral, he unleashed a string of swear words at a photographer that would've made Artie Lange blush, and then snarled, "'The next time a photographer shoots a [expletive] picture, I'm going to break his [expletive] neck!"

It's disrespectful to the game, disrespectful to those he plays with and disrespectful to the great players who built the game before him. Ever remember Jack Nicklaus doing it? Arnold Palmer? When Tom Watson was getting guillotined in that playoff to Stewart Cink, did you see him so much as spit? Only one great player ever threw clubs as a pro -- Bobby Jones -- and he stopped in his 20s when he realized how spoiled he looked.
This isn't new. Woods has been this way for years: swearing like a Hooters' bouncer, trying to bury the bottom of his driver into the tee box, flipping his club end over end the second he realizes his shot is way offline.
I can still remember the 1997 Masters -- arguably the most important golf tournament ever played. Woods, then 21, was playing the 15th hole on Sunday. He had just hit a fairway wood out of the rough and was watching it. A young boy came up from behind just to touch him -- just to pat the back of this amazing new superhero. That's when Tiger pulled the club way back over his head and slammed it down, nearly braining the kid he couldn't see behind him. And this was with a huge lead.
Look, in every other case, I think Tiger Woods has been an A-plus role model. Never shows up in the back of a squad car with a black eye. Never gets busted in a sleazy motel with three "freelance models." Never gets so much as a parking ticket. But this punk act on the golf course has got to stop. If it were my son, I'd tell him the same thing: "Either behave or get off the course."
Come to think of it, if I were the president of Nike, I'd tell him the same thing.
Put it this way: Will Tiger let his own two kids carry on in public like that?
I know what you're saying. We see more Tiger tantrums because TV shows every single shot he hits. And I'm telling you: You're wrong. He is one of the few on Tour who do it. And I keep wondering when PGA Tour commissioner Tim Finchem is going to have the cojones to publicly upbraid him for it.
Golf is a gentlemen's game. Stomping and swearing and carrying on like a Beverly Hills tennis brat might fly in the NBA or in baseball or in football, where less is expected, but golf demands manners. It's your honor. Is my mark in your way? No, I had 6, not 5. Golfers call penalties on themselves. We are our own police. Tiger, police yourself.
Tiger does a boatload of work for kids. He raises millions for his Tiger Woods Learning Center, which has helped teach thousands. But teaching goes the wrong way, too. Tiger is teaching them that if he can be a hissy hothead on the course, they can, too.
I remember Tiger's dad, Earl, telling a story. One day, when Tiger was just a kid, he was throwing his clubs around in a fuming fit when his dad said something like "Tiger, golf is supposed to be fun." And Tiger said, "Daddy, I want to win. That's how I have fun."

Well, it's not fun to watch.

Hope you liked that. As much as I love watching Tiger, I have to agree with what Reilly is saying. I used to be a lot worse with my golf tempter tantrums, but I'd like to think I have at least calmed them down enough to make the game more fun for my playing partners. Way to stand up and say something, Reilly. You never seem to disappoint me. Nice work.

I caved.

2009-07-21T23:58:00.000-04:00

Shut up. You knew I wasn't going to make it an entire summer without writing about hockey again, and so did I.

I held out (sort of, discounting that post acknowledging Stevie Y to the Hall) for more than a month, an impressive feat if I must say so myself, but I can't do it anymore. It's late at night, and I'm ready to talk hockey again.

Wait a minute. Nope. Nevermind. No Red Wings talk. Still too painful to imagine them with all those sad faces. Damn you, Triple Deke, for that slide show of depression you posted a while ago. It would have ruined my work day if I wasn't already bored at work on a Tuesday.

Basically, all I wanted to do was update the blog and declare (through Puck Daddy) that Marian Hossa has a shoulder injury and could be out until December if his rotator cuff needs surgery.

Why the large font? Because this is huge news. This means that, like 2007, the Cup was stolen from Detroit by a lesser team. Call me a whining sore loser if you want, but you know it's true. They've had the best team in every single season since the lockout and they should be working on a five-peat right now. Disagree? Tough. This is my space. I say what's fact and what's fiction.

FACT: Red Wings. Beats. ~~Battlestar Galactica~~ Everyone.

So, a word to Chicago: have fun with Hossa over the next 12 years. I'm betting that for the last four of those, he's on his couch sipping "wodka" and counting Benjamins, retired but still collecting on his preposterous deal. No way that guy's playing til he's 42. At least, not when he's forced to wear this every day. Ew.

Well that's really it. Not a huge hockey post, but a necessary one. It's what I love; don't expect it to take another lengthy hiatus again.

In other news, another Summer Series of Arguments post is brewing. On the Agenda: why Jon Stewart might be more unbiased and a better newsworthy source of information than any of the major networks today. It's a good 'un.

And just because I'm in the mood, here's a video. Enjoy.

MJ media put the 'fun' in funeral

2009-07-14T12:19:00.006-04:00

As Stephen Colbert noted in his first show back from vacation last night, the coverage of Michael Jackson's death has finally come to an end.

The Colbert Report

Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c

Remembering Remembering Michael Jackson

www.colbertnation.com

Colbert Report Full Episodes

Political Humor

Jeff Goldblum

Call me insensitive, but I am very relieved that the media have stopped doing anything about the death of Michael Jackson. The news was huge when it came out, but the amount of coverage that has been on TV in the past couple weeks is frankly a bit too much.

Michael Jackson was a great artist and a crazy human being. He made Thriller and Billie Jean, two songs I quite enjoy listening to, along with many others that have made him the King of Pop. His albums have sold millions upon millions of copies, and you have to feel sympathy for his family members because it's always tough to lose a loved one. But I have to stand tough on this point: his "funeral" ceremony was a joke, and it was actually a little offensive.

Funerals are held in churches. Funerals are sad, reminiscent and a celebration of life. Funerals are for relatives and close friends. I've been to a few. There are heartfelt speeches and pall bearers, memories and tissues, people in suits and black dresses. A group mourning a communal loss.

Funerals are not held in the Staples Center. Funerals are not shown on VH1. Funerals don't need $1.4 million of police service. People don't sell tickets to funerals. It's not a performance; it's not a nationwide spectacle; it's a time for reflection and a time to honor the memory of the deceased. Usher should only touch the coffin if Michael Jackson touched him emotionally.

And maybe he did. Maybe a majority of the performers at the "funeral" knew Michael personally, and maybe they were all truly sad that he died. But that doesn't make it right to bring in cameras and microphones to broadcast it to the world.

Michael Jackson was a famous public figure. It's right to honor him. So hold a benefit concert after his family and friends have a real funeral and celebrate his life in a way none of us would understand. Bring Usher and John Mayer and Stevie Wonder back for a concert to remember the man's music, but do it after the fact. Do it after Michael's daughter says a heartfelt goodbye to her Dad so she doesn't have to have her face appear on the front page of thousands of tabloids and newspapers across the world.

It's a tragic thing to have a popular musician who shaped an entire decade of music die of a heart attack brought on by a drug overdose. So treat it like a tragedy. Don't force it on television and don't force it on an audience. Heath Ledger's death was equally as tragic, but I don't remember seeing a lineup of famous actors appearing at his funeral on national TV. In fact, I don't remember his funeral being on TV. And that's how it should be.

It's good that the media storm of Michael Jackon's death is over. But it should have been over a while ago. Michael's family will feel the loss for years to come, but for the general public, for people who never knew him outside of an album, the loss has already subsided.

When it comes to comedians, Tosh is tops.

2009-07-10T15:40:00.006-04:00

To all comedians who are not Daniel Tosh,

You should be aware that you are all completely inferior to the man with the first good show in the 10:30 p.m. time slot on Comedy Central in forever.

Best,

Cam

Welcome to the first installment of the Summer Series of Arguments. These posts will vary in length, subject matter and world relevancy. Most of the time, they will be completely useless reading where I simply declare something or someone better than every other counterpart in existence. Let's do this.

Daniel Tosh is a comic monster.

His truthful insight borders on offensive every time, but that doesn't make it any less right. He has the edginess of Richard Pryor, the delivery of Jim Gaffigan, the creativity of Mitch Hedberg, and the energy and zaniness of Dane Cook before his ego got the best of him.

If you haven't listened to his CD, True Stories I Made Up, take a visit to Amazon or iTunes or your local music store. If you haven't seen his comedy central special, go find a TV and watch nonstop until you do; you'll be sure to catch an episode or two of Tosh.0 in meantime. If you haven't even heard of the man, the myth, the legend, say some hail marys or any other sort of ridiculous non-punishment. Here's what I'm talking about:

I wish I could live life that carelessly. He doesn't care what anyone says or thinks and he gets away with it every time. I love that.

His laugh is funny. His jokes are funny. He has this incredible ability to make things that shouldn't be funny, like 3rd world countries or AIDS or racism, hilarious.

I love stand-up comedians; I judge them harshly. Trust me when I say, Tosh tops them all.

That's it. If you're disappointed, hush now. It's 5:00 on a Friday, I want to start my weekend and I've got more in store for you soon.

On the arguing agenda: Why Mike Ricci is the ugliest person in the history of the world. Why NASCAR is not a sport. Why UFC is the dumbest craze since the Tamagotchi. Plenty of others floatin' around in the ol' noggin.

Stay tuned.

Coming Soon: the Summer Series of Arguments

2009-07-09T16:12:00.007-04:00

I've been bored recently. I'm in a rut. I work five days every week, and I often have little to do after the job is finished each day. Some days are better than others, and I actually have some sort of fun post-5:00 plans, but most of the time I run, eat dinner and sit around reading, watching TV or playing guitar. I haven't mustered the effort to write much, though I've certainly thought about posting some thoughts about NHL free agency. But I've found that I'm too stubborn to break my word of not writing about hockey for the summer, and my occasional 140-character Twitter update often gets the point across anyway.

So, I've come up with an idea to climb out of the boredom cave and I think it might be awesome. Of course, I also thought my brilliant Bueller Awards would be awesome too and they flopped harder than Sidney Crosby in a playoff game. Ugh. I hate that kid....deep breaths, deep breaths. No rain cloud game-seven flashbacks on this beautiful Thursday afternoon. On to the idea that will entertain me and this blog for at least a couple weeks and possibly the rest of the summer and beyond:

The Summer Series of Arguments.

You see, I noticed something about myself recently, after Michael Jackson died.

I love to argue.

Why did I realize this after MJ died, you ask? Well, a few people at work were talking about how crazy he was the day after he died. So, I argued how great his music was and that he should be remembered for that and not the zoo of pets and numerous plastic surgeries. But a few days later, a couple friends and I were talking and they said he wasn't crazy. All of those things about child molestation were made up, pure falsities. Naturally, I did a 180 and spoke about how his insanity cannot be forgotten in his legacy. But when it all comes down to it, I really don't care about Michael Jackson dying. I like some of his music, but the guy's a nutjob. It was the arguing I cared about. It really doesn't matter what subject or which person or what time of day. Bickering is my forté.

And, since I'm mostly alone in my apartment and have no one to argue with, I'm going to start doing it here. A weekly installment. Completely biased. Facts will be bent and sometimes broken. Fiction and truth might become synonymous if it helps prove my point. No holds barred.

It starts tomorrow, when I'll be sure to have enough time on my hands (like I do now) to finish a post during work.

On the agenda: Why Daniel Tosh is the funniest, and most truthful, man on the planet.

Stay tuned.

Hittin' the road running

2009-06-26T16:52:00.006-04:00

This is the unedited, original version of the first-person story I wrote today for the Gloucester Daily Times. I don't know how heavily it will be edited or if it will be at all, but I wanted to get this up here so you can see it how I wrote it without any changes. I'll add the link for the actual article and some pictures tomorrow. Enjoy!

*UPDATE: Here's the link to the story online.*

At first, I thought I had a chance. A chance for glory. A chance to be the first runner, the first intern, the first reporter to cross the finish line of the Fiesta 5K. I peered at last year’s results, saw the winning time of 15:51 and stepped out my apartment for a training run, determined to match it.

I ran flat out. My lungs screamed for me to stop but my legs sped forward. I’d been training for months, when a New Year’s resolution got me running again. This 5K was going to be cake.

I snuck a peek at my watch. The analog letters read 16:12, 2.2 miles. Wait. Five kilometers is 3.1 miles.

I was a mile behind and already, I was toast.

A week later, when I stepped to the starting line behind hundreds of others, I felt relaxed. There was no reason to push forward; I could run comfortably. This was my first St. Peter’s Fiesta, my first summer in Gloucester and the first road race of my life. Why not enjoy it?

The horn sounded; I didn’t move. I couldn’t. Sweating bodies were packed like sardines, slowly filtering down the road like sand crystals in a hourglass. The crawling start gave me time to scan our surroundings. Hey, it’s not everyday you start a race packed at the edge of a carnival.

Finally, after several stalled seconds, my feet started moving. I saw an opening up ahead and went for it, desperate to reinflate my personal space bubble.

I squeezed between runners and cars and spectators and barely saw the upcoming stroller out of the corner of my eye. I twisted left to avoid it, but I felt my heel clip the wheel. An infant’s cry rang out in the background. Bad start. I kept moving.

Nearing the half-way turnaround, I saw the leaders coming at us, only minutes ahead. I picked up the pace. The competition gripped me. Hope entered my mind again.

Then, a few steps after I made the turn, I saw a man jogging along and juggling three tennis balls without the slightest flinch. He couldn’t have been more than a minute behind me, and he was “joggling.” Talk about gaining some perspective. I slowed back down.

The race settled down. I relaxed once more. The track widened and runners dispersed. The fastest group flew out of sight, and I found my niche in the middle of the pack. That was where I found the true spirit of Fiesta.

I saw runners big and small, young and old. There were runners in bare feet and runners in stocking feet. Some ran with tunes and some ran on fumes. The diversity was unlike anything I’d seen at a sporting event.

It wasn’t about winning; I had it wrong from the beginning. The race is only a part of the week-long celebration. Hundreds of runners competed, but an even larger group stood on the sidelines to recognize tradition, heritage and a collective sense of pure happiness on a warm Gloucester evening.

Kids held self-made signs for their relatives and parents, adults in lawn chairs applauded from the grass and groups of helpful volunteers yelled encouraging words as they handed out cups of water.

Locals waved Italian flags from their homes and cars honked their horns as they passed by. From the sidewalk near one of the final turns, a man in a wheelchair yelled, “Come on guys, you can do it!”

None of these people ran the race. But there they were, cheering on strangers and supporting the community. All smiles. They were playing their part in Fiesta.

I didn’t look at my time as I crossed the finish; I passed the clock before I could make out the numbers. I was too busy looking around at all the excited faces packing the closing chute. I found out later that I finished the race in 24:09, 121st out of 454 runners and eight minutes, 26 seconds behind the winner. But it didn’t matter. The importance of winning was lost. I had my own piece of Fiesta to cherish, and I know I’d be welcomed back if I decide to do it again.

Now, if only I could learn how to juggle...

I'm getting paid for this...

2009-06-25T14:37:00.011-04:00

I've come to a work day where I have already finished my stories for the day and have nothing planned for the afternoon. I figure that if I keep typing at my desk instead clicking away at random web sites, I have a better chance of keeping it that way. So, here's an unexpected post.

I said I wouldn't go back to hockey, but I must acknowledge Steve Yzerman and his induction to the Hockey Hall of Fame, as well as his consequent ascension to the newest and best member in the entire place -- Gretzky who? The Triple Deke has a couple awesome videos of Stevie Y's heroics but this is one of my personal favorite Yzerman moments, and he didn't even score the goal.

That video still makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Mmmm...I can only imagine how tasty Patrick Roy's tears must be. I'm guessing a flavor orgasm of bacon, red Starburst and a Dairy Queen Reese's Peanut Butter Cup Blizzard with extra peanut butter sauce.

And then, just as I'm feeling good about hockey again, I decide to watch Zack and Miri Make a Porno.

Why? God knows...I've been on a complete movie-watching binge (about one per night for the past two weeks) to build up an upcoming nostalgic post of movie reviews and last night's choice happened to be Zack and Miri.

Don't get me wrong, the movie wasn't completely awful. It was bad, yes, but there were some great laughs from the Seth-Rogen-led cast. The problem is...I was completely unprepared for the movie's opening scene (the horror starts at about 0:40 and ends right at 1:00 even). View at your own risk.

Ghastly, ghastly stuff. It seems my dear Lord Yzerman is playing tricks on me again. Hopefully that video stays up on YouTube long enough for you all to watch it, but I'm sure it will be taken down at some point.

Okay, okay, enough hockey. I swear I'm done until October. If that's not realistic, I'll try and at least keep it to a minimum.

In other news, I'm finishing up my fifth week at the Gloucester Daily Times for my UNH internship. It's been good so far. Not great, but definitely not bad. I like most of the stories I'm writing, but there are a few occasional ones that just shouldn't be in a newspaper. For better or worse, the whole collection of stories I've written can be found here, or just go to www.gloucestertimes.com and search for my name.

Here's a quick list of movies off the top of my head that will be reviewed here soon, listed in a manner that would please someone with obsessive compulsive disorder:

Fanboys
Defiance
Sex Drive
Body of Lies
Gran Torino
Seven Pounds
The Hangover
Death at a Funeral
Slumdog Millionaire
The Taking of Pelham 123
Vicky Christina Barcelona
He's Just Not That Into You
Zack and Miri Make a Porno
Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist

There's a couple more I'm not thinking of, but as you can see...that's a binge. I should probably find a better use of my time.

Hmm...what else is happening in the world today?

Farrah Fawcett died, as did the hearts of thousands of still-hopeful middle aged men everywhere.
The NBA draft is tonight at 7 pm, but then again CSPAN's coverage of a riveting session of the House of Representatives might be more exciting.
Shaq was traded to the Cavs this morning, but the only real intrigue there is what new nickname Shaq will come up with for himself. My money's on "I'm an overhyped NBA player who's past his prime and is really only useful for comic relief." It's long, I know, but I think it'll catch on.
That Republican Governor Mark Sanford was in Argentina for a week and not actually hiking the Appalachian Trail with his family, providing a gold mine of material for John Stewart.
Jimmy Fallon beat Tiger Woods in golf -- the Nintendo Wii version, that is -- but he still isn't funny. So sad.
And finally, I've just received word that the second ~~Megan Fox is hot~~ Transformers movie came out yesterday. Looks like my plans are set for the night.

Alright, only an hour of work left to kill before I go downtown run the St. Peter's Fiesta 5K Road Race. Should be pretty cool, especially since I'll have a first person account of it in Saturday's paper. Stay tuned.

Hockey: Postponed.

2009-06-15T23:53:00.005-04:00

I'm not over it. I'll never be over it. That was the most painful sporting event experience I've had in my lifetime. No doubt about it. I could feel doubt creeping in at 1-0, and I was fully pessimistic when it was 2-0. Girl's Name Talbot had beaten us again. But Ericsson gave us life, and I stupidly clung to that, thinking we would have our own 34.7. Nope. No Cup, no joy, no more hockey. Just like that. And then, this.

It truly amazes me how accurate that scene is to my reaction. All you have to do is replace the van with my house and make it night time, and that's exactly what happened about 30 seconds after the final horn sounded. I turned off the TV, ripped off my Datsyuk jersey, ran outside without any shoes and screamed my lungs out. Then I fell to the ground and cried hysterically for about 10 full minutes. I'm not proud of it, but that's the truth. I almost threw up, I felt so sick to my stomach.

I've perused my favorite Wings blogs over the past few days, looking to gauge the different reactions. Heartbreak was abound, but I'm sorry to say I'm not nearly as classy as A2Y or anyone else who sent words of kudos to the Penguins and their fans. I'll never do that.

I'm not going to congratulate them for winning the Cup. I'm not going to be gracious in defeat and think about how the Penguins' fanbase is just like ours and they deserve to celebrate a Cup as much as we do. The better team lost, as it happens in sports sometimes. I'll never forget this loss, and I'll never forgive the city of Pittsburgh or Sidney Crosby. I just won't. Call me a sore loser, but that's what I do. I'm not going to give Ohio State credit when they beat Michigan, and I'm sure as hell not going to give anybody in a Penguins uniform credit for somehow upsetting the Wings in seven unholy games.

This loss was so gut-wrenching, such a train wreck of emotions that for a couple days, I thought about giving up everything I owned that was associated with the Red Wings. I swore I'd never watch hockey again. But a weekend with family in town allowed me to collect my thoughts, store this horror deep down inside me and move on, temporarily. I will follow my Wings through thick and thin, but I don't plan on writing about them this summer.

So, this post serves mostly as a notice for my occasional readers. Hockey will not come up again until October, when the Wings start their season in Stockholm against the St. Louis Blues. I don't care who they sign in the offseason, I don't care what they do about Hossa; I'll root for whoever is wearing that winged wheel in October. I'll be following in the shadows, of course, but I'll find other things to write about in the meantime. I just don't want to think about hockey again for a while. This was just too much.

If you read my stuff for any reason (you're obligated to love me as a part of the family, you stumbled upon the site when you were searching for the quote from Ferris Bueller or you genuinely have nothing better to do) I appreciate it. But for the next couple months, this will just be another part of the pointless blogosphere that has no rhyme or reason. It's just writing. I hope you stick around, but I won't feel slighted if you decide to skip it on your usual blog rounds.

I need sleep. It seems to be the only place, other than home, where I'm finding peace right now. Work is a zoo and my apartment is quiet and empty. Sleeping is a comfort.

It's not okay.

2009-06-13T13:15:00.001-04:00

If you say, "It's just a game," you don't understand.

Superstitions

2009-06-11T00:24:00.003-04:00

As I sit here, already tense and stressed about Friday's looming game seven, I've thought about all the superstitions I have kept, broken and considered during these playoffs. There's just so many that it's hard to keep them straight.

In this series, the Wings are 3-1 on NBC, 0-2 on Versus. Good thing game seven's on NBC, but I thought the same before game six. The Wings are 2-0 when I watch the game at my house on my couch (games one and two), 0-2 when I watch the game in Gloucester (games four and six), and 1-1 when I'm watching the game at a bar. I prepared food for myself before game four and they lost, so I ordered pizza from Dominos before game six on Tuesday. Still lost. I couldn't find a clean Red Wings t-shirt to wear underneath my button-down for work on Tuesday so I Febreezed the hell out of my Lidstrom jersey tee and threw that wet mess on. It was gross, but I thought it would help. It only made things worse. Sweat, Febreeze and a game six loss is a dangerous cocktail. Here are some other choices I'm pondering as game seven draws ever nearer...

I wore my unbelievable Christmas present signed Datsyuk sweater for the first game of the Blue Jackets, Ducks and Blackhawks series. I forgot to for the Finals, but I made up for it by wearing it in game five. I thought I had found some luck so I wore it for game six too. Do I wear it for game seven? I think so. Decision: Wearin' it.

I've worn at least one item of Red Wings memorabilia for every single Red Wings playoff game except one. Game six of the Ducks series, I had nothing clean and wore a bright red short sleeve Polo and my bright red Converse Chuck Taylor high tops with 19 SY drawn in black sharpie on the sides. The result was a devastating loss. So I'll definitely keep the memorabilia train going, but what's worthy of a game seven? My Datsyuk sweater, as mentioned above? My Datsyuk t-shirt? My Lidstrom t-shirt? My green St. Patty's day Red Wings logo t-shirt? My 2008 Cup Champions roster t-shirt? My green St. Patty's day Red Wings thermal? My black 2002 Cup Champions t-shirt? Any of the numerous Red Wings hats I own? What in Yzerman's name do I wear for a game of this magnitude? I feel like Tobey Maguire before the MTV Awards. Decision: Datsyuk sweater, as mentioned above. Maybe my red Chucks too. Maybe that's overdoing it. I'll make the decision based on gut feeling Friday morning.

In exact opposition with the Red Wings' beard slogan, I've shaved every single day the Red Wings have had a playoff game, again with one exception -- game two against the Ducks. The result was a triple overtime death wish. Clearly, I'm awesome at this whole superstition thing. I think this superstition will stick around for game seven, since I started it at the beginning of last year's playoffs and look how well that turned out. Decision: I will shave.

I've jumped around singing "My little Pony" after every time Samuelsson has scored in this year's playoffs. Don't ask me why, but it seems to work. Sometimes though, when I hum the melody in my head when he's on the ice, the opposition scores a goal and Sammy is usually the culprit. Do I risk singing if he scores with the chance that it'll get stuck in my head for the rest of the game and whenever he's on the ice from then on the Penguins will score? Decision: This was not true. Like I said, this game seven is turning me into a crazy person where I would concoct such a scenario as this one.

I pick one sitting position at the start of every game and stay there until someone scores. If it's the Wings, I ain't movin' for anything. If it's the other team, I'm switching to a new spot real quick. But how do I pick the right spot? And since the Wings have indeed won later after I'd moved once or twice during a 0-0 game, do I even consider this superstition to be helpful? Decision: I'm going with what's comfortable. But I'll rest my head on a freshly sharpened ice pick if, Yzerman forbid, the Penguins score first.

Black cats are said to be bad. I have a black cat at home. She pees on things. I'm going to my cousin's graduation on Friday afternoon and will be either driving home early to get back in time for the game or staying really late and leaving after the game. Do I stay as far away as possible from Mittens and see if the Wings can win it on my cousin's TV in Portland, Maine or do I venture home, stay away from the cat and watch it on the big screen in HD on my comfy couch? The Wings did win games one and two of the Finals on that couch two weekends ago. Decision: I'd like to get home and watch the game, but we'll see what time allows with the graduation and reception and all. I may need to stay in Portland or drive like the wind. It remains to be seen.

I haven't played a video game in ages, but I've been itching to play NHL 08 during this entire postseason. Do I break the streak now and play my own simulation of a Wings-Pens game seven to boost my morale tomorrow night, or do I keep pretending that the PlayStation's only purpose is to play DVDs? I reeeally want to see somebody in red and white throw a late hit to Crosby or Malkin without any real punishment afterward, but I'm scared of the consequences of such a virtual action. Decision: This is game seven; it's not about fun and games. I can wait it out.

I started posting after Wings' playoff games to check my ego after wins and to keep me sane after losses. I did a few pregame posts, but the last one I did was before game three in Chicago. The result was an overtime loss. In fact, I've kept the posting to a minimum except for game recaps since the middle of that series. I'm breaking that by posting this now but somehow I feel okay about it. Admitting these problems is the first step back to sanity, I'm told by the imaginary bearded Madonna creature behind me. And if anything's clear from this post, it's that I need some professional help already, let alone if the Wings crush my soul on Friday. Decision: It's already been made by writing this. I've posted after one game and before the next. Let's see if it pays off/matters.

I've got nothing left in the tank. There's probably some other superstitions I've got hidden deep down that I can't think of because they've just become human nature by now, but I need rest. Another tough day of work tomorrow with this fried brain of mine before I can become completely enveloped in a fantasy world for crazy people inside a stress bubble on Friday. Storm's a brewin'. Go Wings.

No. Fucking. Way.

2009-06-09T22:46:00.006-04:00

Fair warning: foul language is abound. Sorry, Grandma.

I'm completely drenched in sweat from all the stress, I'm beyond insane with anger and disappointment and every crappy emotion in the world and I have to get up for work tomorrow morning.

No. Fucking. Way.

How could they lose this game?! How could they not capitalize on two power plays in the third period?! How the hell can Hossa claim he wants a Cup and play like THAT?! I cannot fathom a game seven. I just can't.

I was dying when the Red Wings played the Ducks in game seven, and I didn't even watch that one. There is nothing in the world that could make me miss a second of this Friday's game seven, but I'm not excited to watch it at all. It will be all of this stress times infinity. Yep, infinity. That mythical number from elementary school has become real and it represents how much my stress will be amplified. If the Red Wings don't win, consider me suicidal. I cannot imagine the depression I would go through if they lost a game seven at home against that whiny little bitch Sidney Crosby, who was, again, a non-factor in tonight's game. I can't deal with it. I should honestly just save myself the possibility of that much pain and just swear off hockey before the week is over. I will definitely do so if they lose Friday.

Then again, I was this pessimistic and pissed and everything after game four last Thursday, only to see the Wings absolutely dominate in game five. I don't see a similar game to that beating unfolding on Friday, but I certainly wouldn't mind. I can only pray that the home team prevails again and the Wings end my ridiculously high blood pressure by hoisting that Cup.

God. DAMN IT.

Zetterberg's post. Cleary not scoring on that breakaway. Franzen getting stoned by Scuderi multiple times in the crease with virtually no time left. Osgood played great, but the Red Wings didn't give him even a decent offensive effort. They played well for about 10 minutes out of the 60, and that's unacceptable. They'll need alllll 60 minutes come Friday.

And two days left until that game takes place. How the hell am I supposed to write any coherent articles in the next two days with this on my mind? No. Fucking. Way.

I can't write anymore. The only thing I can do right now is get up and start pacing around the room. And believe me, that's exactly what I'm going to do when this post ends. See you Friday. Go Wings.

Elated.

2009-06-07T02:21:00.003-04:00

I've been sticking with the one word titles recently...not sure why. Just seems to fit my emotions perfectly each time.

Game five. A pivotal marker to see where the Finals will go. No contest.

Five goals to zero. That French-Canadian goalie warmin' the bench before the 40-minute mark. Dangling Datsyuk pulling tricks out of his cap early and often like he hadn't missed a game, let alone seven. The powerplay coming alive. Osgood's pass. Kronwall's presence down low and Datsyukian-like move for number three. Raffy's laser and Z's chin music to send Fleury packing. A meaningless third period. No stress.

The experience was amazing. After a rousing and hilarious viewing of the ridiculously hyped "The Hangover," which I would give a solid 4.5 stars, I managed to find a bar/restaurant with a couple friends to catch the game. It was already 10 minutes in, but I was just in time for the massacre about to take place.

Soon after I arrived, my fresh-legged, hetero-bromantic obsession threw out the rust factor theory and fed the Pride of Newfoundland for the game's first goal that rocked the Joe Louis faithful and gave the Wings the early lift they desperately needed. From then on, they shattered the Penguins' dreams of a road win and frustrated them beyond belief in the process.

The only game that comes to mind in comparison to this beautiful game is the 7-0 romp over the Avs in game seven of the 2002 West Finals. The tension leading up to that game was huge because whoever won that series would certainly be the eventual Cup champion, and it was still one of the most popular rivalries in sports. Then, Patty Roy let in a bunch of goals while the Wings flew towards Cup #10. I see the same happening after tonight, except with Cup #12 in their sights.

I can't help but wonder what Pittsburgh fans are feeling right now because I really don't know. Are they whining about the officiating? Are they embarrassed? Are they angry at the Wings or at their own supporting cast? Are they all of these things? I only ask because the game went completely to pieces after about the third or fourth goal, and numerous cheap shots were being thrown by Penguins players (even notable guys like Crosby and Malkin). Their poise, pride and sense of accomplishment after games three and four were all completely gone.

Amid the continual stream of stupid penalties, I found another comparison unlike the one before to Colorado in '02. How about game four in Chicago a week and a half ago? Those young 'Hawks showed the world that they weren't ready for the big stage against the class of the league by throwing elbows and crosschecks and roughing up every non-teammate in sight. It felt the same way tonight with the Pens. These young guns from Pittsburgh might have fresher legs and arguably more talent (not by my judgment, but by some), but it is shockingly clear that they do not have the maturity level of a champion yet. Not even close. That is probably the largest difference between Gretzky and Crosby, and thus the '80s Oilers and the '00s Penguins. Maturity gets you through periods of adversity. The Red Wings have it; the Penguins don't.

And that's where a lot of the dislike towards Crosby comes from. A true leader rarely whines; he doesn't lose his cool even in the most intense moments of a game. He leads by example and puts all the blame on himself if the team loses, even if he was the only player to show up and play well. Crosby is a phenomenal player; there is no disputing that. His vision is unmatched and he's the clear-cut choice over Ovechkin and Malkin as the most explosive player in hockey. There's a reason why Detroit has concentrated its efforts on him and let Malkin do his thing. Crosby is always dangerous when he's on the ice. He's quick, smart and incredibly skilled, but he needs to learn some leadership skills. His slash on Zetterberg (regardless of how much acting went into it) is exactly the kind of thing that shows why he doesn't always get the respect he deserves. Maybe he was threaded with the "C" too early, but that's not my argument. I think to gain the kind of admiration and respect from other NHL players (like Gretzky had) and not just the fans or the McGuires of the media or the league officials, he needs to start learning how to be a leader and understand that unlike in PeeWees, it's not always the best player on the ice who wears that "C" on their sweater.

Okay, enough about Crosby (or should I say..."Rosby" after that last paragraph! Ha ha!). It's pretty late and I'd like to wake up early enough to catch the French Open final. Tonight, it was all Red Wings and I'm very happy about that. If you couldn't tell from my last post, I was seriously doubting my team's chances at success after their performances Tuesday and Thursday. Luckily, they reassured my hopes tonight. Two days of rest should be helpful, and I can't wait to sport my Datsyuk jersey again on Tuesday. Just one more game stands in the way of a second consecutive championship. Let's do this. Go Wings. See you Tuesday.

Depressed.

2009-06-04T22:51:00.005-04:00

Completely and utterly dead. That's how I feel inside.

From right before the game when Datsyuk was announced a no-go, to right at the end when the sea of Penguins fans began celebrating, I felt dead. I absolutely cannot live through this series if the Red Wings are to lose.

I'm starting to have visions. Visions of Sidney Crosby taking the most glorious trophy in sports from the worst commissioner in sports. Visions of a truly happy Pierre McGuire. Visions of NHL commercials that make it look like the Penguins won Cup because they actually won the Cup. Visions of a parade in Pittsburgh. These visions are haunting. They churn the vomit pool in my stomach.

I've come to the conclusion that it would truly be the worst thing in the history of sports to see Sidney Crosby lift the Stanley Cup. I hope it never happens. I hope Sidney gets to grow out his playoff "beard" every year until June and never, ever kiss that silver. The fact that he's only two games away makes me want to drink battery acid. There was a time when I read his biography two years ago and was genuinely interested in finding out what made this "Golden Boy" tick. Now, every part of me that liked him once has died once, come back to life and died again. The NHL can't have this whining non-leader as their poster boy for years to come. It just can't happen.

I can't take these ifs. I want to believe. But immediately after a Cup Finals loss with another game looming only two days away (thanks for the rest, Gary)...I'm losing the faith. By Saturday, I'll be back in my Red Wings gear and rooting as hard as ever for my boys in red, but I can't do it right now.

The Red Wings looked tired. They looked desperate. They played a solid 30 minutes of hockey, but the game lasts for 60 minutes nowadays. They need the home crowd more than ever, and THEY. NEED. DATSYUK. So, man the hell up Dangle and get on the ice. How do you skate in the pregame and then not play? It drives me insane. I'm losing my patience with you.

Game five is a must win. I refuse to go into Pittsburgh down 3-2. I've had a completely pessimistic view during this entire blog post and that scares me.

Let's. Go. Red. Wings. See ya Saturday.

I love the Triple Deke who loves Bruce MacLeod

2009-06-03T16:32:00.004-04:00

Yep, I steal things and sometimes can't come up with anything to say on my own. But, via the Triple Deke via Red Wings Corner, I found this.

DATSYUK LOOKS TO BE RETURNING

UPDATE: Babcock just said that Datsyuk is a game-time decision. "We have an optional skate tomorrow morning and we'll see how he responds after that and after today. I have to talk to (trainer) Piet (Van Zant) and see how (Datsyuk) looks." Datsyuk also said that he would be a game-time decision tomorrow.

That said, Datsyuk was practicing hard today, doing drills for the first time in a long time. The practice lines were shuffled as though they were preparing for Pavel being back. It sure looks like Datsyuk will be back unless his body takes a step backwards after today's workout.

Also, Babcock just confirmed that Draper is back in the lineup, but said that he doesn't know who's out. Well, it sure looks like Abdelkader is out. Leino and Maltby were Draper's wings in practice. Draper, Maltby and Leino were off the ice for a half-hour while Abdelkader worked out.

I am excited, amazed, hopeful, and ecstatic. Don't even try to tell me Dats "won't be 100 percent" or "he won't be as quick" or any of that. A 60 percent Dangle Dangle is better than anyone on Pittsburgh's team. Yeah, I said it. He's that good. And if he's playing tomorrow? He's at least 80 percent. Look out, Penguins: You may have happy feet, but Datsyuk's about to put on his stompin' feet. Kill some birds, Pav. You better be out there tomorrow night; I've already got my hopes way up.

I'll be taking after my buddy Jake in game two and will be trying my own hand at some live twittering/tweeting/twatting for game four. It'll be here, if you have absolutely nothing to do whatsoever tomorrow night. See ya then. Go Wings.

Annoyed

2009-06-03T09:43:00.004-04:00

Bah. So they're going to make it a series huh? Damn.

Despite the 4-2 Penguins victory to cut the Wings' series lead to 2-1, the Wings certainly could have won and had plenty of opportunities to do so.

The Penguins weren't outstanding, and the Wings played what I thought was their best game of the series. But their ugly penalty kill reared its head and eventually killed them in the third. I tend to think that interference call on Jonathan Ericsson was a terrible one, but I'm not going to do any more complaining about it because the Penguins got theirs in the first couple games. I will say, however, that I was not happy about that call last night. Not one bit.

So far, the overall outcomes of the series have been no different than last year. Detroit wins, Detroit wins, Pittsburgh wins. I see game four going the same direction as '08 and Detroit wins another tight one.

One suggestion: put Draper back in. He's superhuman on faceoffs and a force to be reckoned with on the penalty kill. Did I mention the penalty kill is the only weakness Detroit has shown thus far? Hmm...and we can make it better by playing a guy who's healthy but sitting on the bench? Do it Babs. Get 33 back in that lineup somehow.

Speaking of getting back in the lineup...man up Pavel. I have no idea what your injury is and I have no idea what kind of pain you're going through, but Coach Babs said the injury has healed enough and the decision to play is "up to him." So, I want you back in the lineup Dats. You've had a less-than-stellar postseason (quite invisible actually), but now's the time to shine. So pop an Advil, take a cortisone shot or do whatever you have to do to get up for the Finals. Because in all seriousness, we need ya for game four. I want to end this thing as soon as possible, and if you can lace up those skates for Thursday that goal will be much more likely. And so help me God if you don't feel up for it...ahh I can't stay mad at you. Just do what you can to get back. Please.

Overall, the Wings are still in good position. They are right where they have to be. Twelve is still on the horizon; the hungry hasn't gone away just yet. They'll come out with fire in game four. I'm ready for it. See ya Thursday. Go Wings.

Keep that hate coming, Pens fans

2009-06-01T09:41:00.003-04:00

So far, so good.

The Wings are playing well, and the Penguins are playing well. From my standpoint, the series has been very even so far. Oh, except for the fact that the Red Wings have scored more goals.

Last night's 3-1 win to take a 2-0 series lead was almost identical to the opening game. I can't believe Justin Abdelkader has two goals already in the series (when he had 0 NHL goals, playoffs or otherwise, prior to Saturday), but I'm ecstatic that he's played so well. Darren Helm continues to dominate play when he's on the ice and everyone in a Pittsburgh uniform is taking to iron as if it were steel. Ozzie has been solid, but he's had some major contributions from his maroon friends, the posts.

If I were a Penguins fan, I can see myself being pretty pissed in this situation. They played well -- certainly much better than they did in games one and two in last year's Finals -- but they have had poor goaltending and some unlucky bounces that have let Detroit get out to a 2-0 lead. As a Wings fan, I know that those "unlucky bounces" have come at the hands of hard work and Pittsburgh turnovers, but I can see some hatred stemming out of that from the other side of the coin. However, I will completely disspell the notion that the Penguins are being shafted by the officials, since hardly anything has been called on either side. Pissed about the "no-call" on Hossa that led to Filppula's goal? Shut up. How about the lack of a suspension for Malkin after his instigator fighting penalty in the last minute of the game? I don't think it's a good rule, but it's in the NHL rulebook nonetheless (thanks to A2Y for the info). But, the rules don't apply to everyone. Nice work, Gary.

A player who is deemed to be the instigator of an altercation in the final five (5) minutes of regulation time or at any time in overtime, shall be assessed an instigator minor penalty, a major for fighting, a ten minute misconduct and an automatic one-game suspension. The length of suspension will double for each subsequent offense. In addition, the player's coach shall be fined $10,000 -- a fine that will double for each subsequent incident.

Yep, that's straight from the NHL, rule 56a. I think the Malkin-Zetterberg fight was an awesome way to end the game and neither player did anything wrong, but Malkin was penalized with an instigator minor penalty. Colin Campbell said the suspension was rescinded because Malkin wasn't trying to "send a message" or "seek retribution for a prior incident." Hmm. Alrighty. Well, I don't reeeally care if he is suspended or not, but Penguins fans don't have much ground to stand on when their star should be in the luxury box for game three.

Basically, the Wings are awesome. They can taste it. They can taste the sweetness of Cup #12. Pittsburgh is on their heels, and under some major pressure to win games three and four to stay in this series. Excellent. See ya Tuesday. Go Wings.

Final note: Awesome live twitter updates during the game last night, Jake. I enjoyed them very much. He does some fine work, that new UNH graduate. Find him here or here.

Encouraged.

2009-05-30T23:38:00.005-04:00

En-cour-age. transitive verb. meaning to inspire with courage, spirit or hope. Straight from Merriam-Webster.

I've got a lot of thoughts after game one's 3-1 victory over Pittsburgh, and all of them are just what I said above: encouraging. The speed, the toughness, the physicality. The Wings and Pens both brought it tonight, but the Wings came out on top in relatively convincing fashion.

I may have picked the Wings in five, but that doesn't mean I think it'll be a walk for Detroit. I thought all of those five games (including tonight) would be tough as nails and come down to the last minute. Tonight's game wasn't exactly like that, but it wasn't close to being out of hand either. The Penguins are a great team, but like I thought, Detroit is just that much better. I expect more of the same in the next week.

A few notes specific to tonight's victory:

The Pittsburgh defensemen played slower than Kenny G at a senior center. I watched Helm, Hossa and Franzen (heck, even Maltby!) fly by the standing statues that were dressed in Hal Gill and Rob Scuderi jerseys. I nodded and agreed with Buccigross as I read his note about Hossa and Franzen creating horrendous match-up problems for Pittsburgh, but I never considered how right he was. Those defensemen need to start eating their Wheaties or something, because if they keep skating like they did tonight, they are going to be in huuge trouble.
This entire season, I've wondered to myself: does Kirk Maltby have anything left in the tank? Is there any reason whatsoever to keep him on the team, other than the obvious experience and leadership role he plays? Tonight, I got my answer. A definitive yes. He was awesome tonight. I haven't seen him skating around like a madman since the late '90s. His line with Leino and Abdelkader (and sometimes the rotating Helm) was unbelievable. They got more minutes than anyone expected, but they completely earned it. The "Staalshank Redemption" line had no answer for the Wings fourth unit. Very pleased with that.
Abbadabbadooooooooo! I love Helm so much more, but I've been waiting to see this kid perform and he came through tonight. Big game. Great for him. I look forward to seeing some more Abdelkader on the ice in this series.
The Penguins can complain all they want about Detroit's first two "fluky" goals (and I'm sure they will), but they were both created by hard work and Pittsburgh turnovers. So, suck it Pens fans, those were legit. Get your goalie to start playing in position.
Hossa was left off the scoresheet, but it's worth noting that he was showing all-out effort a lot tonight. Diving to get pucks, playing strong defensively and churning those legs past Penguins left and right. Hossa is a beast, and he'll show these Penguins why they should regret losing him.

That's about all I got. The Wings looked good. And with the second game tomorrow, I think they can keep the momentum and turn it into a two-zip lead. At least, that's what I'm pulling for. See ya tomorrow. Go Wings.

Stanley Cup Finals Preview

2009-05-29T13:06:00.004-04:00

Here we are again. The Detroit Red Wings and the Pittsburgh Penguins in the Stanley Cup Finals. I don't think it's any coincidence that every season the Red Wings have played since I started this blog has led them to the Finals. I'm two-for-two, baby. Looks like if I keep this up, we could see the Red Wings pass the Canadiens' mark for most cups as early as 2022. I won't let you down, Wings fans.

Anyway, so this is supposed to be a preview. I'm on top of it. I can't come up with a preview that has the type of hilarity and awesomeness that you'll find at The Triple Deke, but I'll do my best to break down the hockey aspect of things as I see it.

Stanley Cup Finals

(2) Detroit Red Wings vs. (4) Pittsburgh Penguins

Whew. At the beginning of this year's playoffs, I can say I totally expected Detroit to be here, and I kind of expected the Penguins to be here. I thought the Bruins and Penguins series would go seven games, but it turns out Carolina has a hockey team that plays well every once in a while. Here's something to cheer you up though, Bruins fans: the Sharks still lost in the first round, and they were supposedly the best team in hockey! God I love the playoff version of Evgeni Nabokov. He never disappoints.

I keep getting sidetracked, but I swear I'm getting to the real intriguing aspects of the series. Crosby vs. Zetterberg. Malkin vs. Datsyuk (I hope). Lidstrom's constant domination and Kronwall's crushing hits. The Nightmare on Helm Street (coincidentally the best nickname ever). French names like Maxime, Marc-Andre, Philippe and Mathieu pitted against foreign awesome ones like Valtteri, Pavel, Johan, and Ville. The Hossa situation. The "young guns" against the "old men," part two. Shitsburgh vs. Detoilet. It's all on the line. This is the best of playoff hockey.

Many comparisons are being made by the pundits between these Penguins and the Gretzky-Messier Oilers from the early 1980s. I think that besides the fact that those Oilers played the Islanders two Stanley Cup Finals in a row and these Penguins are playing the Red Wings two Stanley Cup Finals in a row, there is no comparison. These Penguins finished fourth in the conference this year and didn't quite reach 100 points, while those Oilers finished 32 points ahead of everyone and had an astounding 119 points in an 80 game season in 1983-84. These Penguins have a lot of question marks, despite two straight Cup Finals, and those Oilers went on to win five Cups in seven years. I'll drink battery acid if Pittsburgh can match that feat by 2016. Just because it was Gretzky-Messier and now it's Crosby-Malkin, doesn't mean there are real similarities. Put it to bed. These Red Wings match-up much more closely with those Oilers, despite their "old age."

I learned the only thing I need to know about this series today. Lidstrom is a go for game one. Alrighty then. If he's good for game one, he'll be good for the series. Done deal. And that is a huge problem for the Penguins. Lidstrom and Zetterberg will shut down (and I mean shut down) Crosby and Malkin to a point where they're dangerous but under control. As Buccigross wrote in his column today, Hossa and Franzen will create serious match-up problems with the Penguins' defensive corps. Draper is expected back later in the series, so his faceoff fortitude will again come into play in the most important games. Fleury has been great, but has shown weakness (see the Flyers series). Osgood has been even better than he was last year. The Wings haven't really needed their top scorers because their depth has been so good. These Penguins are hot, but the fact still remains that for most of the season, they were a mediocre club without much confidence.

These Wings won't face that same midseason Pittsburgh team, but they can relegate them to that status once more. I see these Red Wings playing with the hunger I didn't see in the regular season. I see these Red Wings playing with the heart that I didn't see in the regular season. Marian Hossa cannot and will not lose this series. If he does, he'll never live it down. But he knows that. And he won't let that happen. He might not be the guy the Wings need most to step up this series, but step up he will. I can guarantee you that.

The Penguins won't be as jittery as they were in games one and two of last year's Finals, where they didn't score as much as a single goal, but they'll still lose them both. And Detroit will, once again, take one of two hard-fought games in Pittsburgh. Only this time, they won't lose at home in game five. All games will be close, all games will be physical. But I see Detroit as the vastly superior team. Detroit in five.

I had to get this post done now, since the first two games will be over in the blink of an eye. I'm pissed at the league and NBC for letting this happen, but it doesn't help complaining about it. Just read Mitch Albom's column and you'll be up to speed. Go Wings!

Done deal. Bring on the rematch.

2009-05-28T09:41:00.006-04:00

So, my new apartment in Gloucester, Mass. that I'm living in while I complete my summer internship has neither cable nor internet. Thus, this post is a bit delayed from what it would have been had I been able to post last night.

But, as you can see, all is well in Red Wing land. I watched from a nearby bar and received many awkward looks when the Red Wings scored and I jumped from my seat with a loud cheer of excitement. I didn't care; the Wings are back in the Finals! With an overtime goal by HELM no less! God, I just love that guy. He never disappoints.

The game itself was great. Somehow, Cristobal Huet actually looked like a real goalie in regulation (especially on that unbelievable pad/skate save on Franzen with 22 seconds left) and Osgood was phenomenal once again; I'm growing more and more confident in him with each passing game. The Wings could have won in regulation, but that damned Patrick Kane had to make something happen with that ridiculous backhand shot over Ozzie's shoulder for a goal to tie it. I was slightly worried at that point, but I was very happy to see the Wings pull it out. A game six in Chicago would not have been too ideal, even if it eventually meant more rest for the Wings.

And on that note, why did the NHL all of a sudden move up the Finals to start this Saturday? AND have game two the very next day on Sunday?! I don't understand that at all, especially since they originally said the Finals would start on June 5th. It makes me angry only because I know the Wings will need both Datsyuk and Lidstrom (and Draper too, hopefully) back and healthy to win another tough series against their best opponent to date. Don't get me wrong; I'm not scared of the Penguins, but I know they present a strong challenge if we don't have Captain Lidstrom to shut down Crosby and/or Malkin. I think it will definitely be a tougher series this year. The Pens won't be scared or jittery in games one and two like they were last year, that's for sure.

I need to actually write some real work, (which you can find at the Gloucester Daily Times), before the day starts to get hectic, but I'll use some more time where I should be working tomorrow to write a more in-depth Cup Finals preview and prediction. See you then. Go Wings!

Sunday Bloody Sunday

2009-05-24T20:20:00.007-04:00

Looking for a one-word description for today's 6-1 victory against Chicago in game four of the Conference Finals? Here's mine:

Hilarious.

Let's get this straight. The Wings were playing on the road without the best defenseman in the league and their Hart Trophy candidate, and they still beat the Blackhawks 6-1? Unbelievable. There's no way I saw that coming.

Detroit killed them. They ate them for breakfast. They verbed the adjective noun and they metaphored like a simile. That game was like a wonderful version of hockey mad libs. The Wings scored early and often, while the 'Hawks lost all composure and took idiotic penalties. And yes, they were penalties, no matter what Joel Quenneville had to say afterward.

His take on the roughing penalty to Matt Walker at the end of the first period that led to Valtteri Filppula's goal and the Wings' 3-0 lead...

"I think we witnessed probably the worst call in the history of sports there," Quenneville said.
"You know, they scored, it's 3-0. They ruined a good hockey game and absolutely destroyed what was going on on the ice," he said. "It was a call that could. ... never seen anything like it."

Yeah Joel, it was the worst call in the history of sports. I didn't even see the penalty you're talking about (because it didn't even merit a replay on NBC), but I know you're an idiot for saying that. How could a two-minute penalty when your team is already down 2-0 ruin the game? Oh, you've never seen anything like it? How about in game three, when a different player in red was given a major penalty and a game misconduct for an entirely clean hit? Sound familiar? Yeah. Shut up Joel Quenneville, you're just being...

Hilarious.

Simply put, the 'Hawks are done. They tried real hard and all, but they're going down fast. Cristobal Huet can't stop a beach ball, let alone a small rubber disc. Everyone on the team, except Jonathan Toews who actually played well and acted like a captain should, lost their cool and tried to cheap shot the Wings on multiple occasions. Kris Versteeg took a roughing penalty, got out of the box and immediately took another roughing penalty. Ben Eager came back from a ten-minute misconduct in the third only to be kicked out of the game immediately afterward when he decided to run a Red Wing player like a crazed bull.

The Red Wings pulled their starter just so he could rest. They played Brett Lebda on the power play. They couldn't have tried harder to throw this game away. I've seen my share of blowouts in hockey, but I don't think I've ever seen one get so out of hand in the playoffs -- and I saw the Red Wings beat Colorado 7-0 seven years ago. The Blackhawks didn't mount so much as a single charge in the third and virtually boarded the flight to Detroit for game five during the second intermission. Shocking but yet so...

Hilarious.

I couldn't help but laugh. I was a little worried about possible injuries because most of the 'Hawks were playing such reckless hockey, but it turned out alright. As TTD accurately predicted, Hossa came up huge. Ozzie was solid in net for his two periods, Zetterberg was a menace and the whole defense stepped up. The Wings play again on Wednesday at home and try to rap up the series in five quick games. My guess: Lidstrom and Datsyuk both miss game five and the Wings still win. Hell, maybe Hossa, Zetterberg, Rafalski, Holmstrom, Filppula, Cleary, Samuelsson, Leino, Stuart, Kronwall, Ericsson, Osgood, and Conklin all come down with day-to-day injuries too. I still think a line of Abdelkader, Helm, and Maltby with Leather Cheli and Lebda on D would beat these 'Hawks without any reserves. And I find that...

Hilarious.

See you Wednesday. Go Wings.

Change of Pace

2009-05-22T20:48:00.011-04:00

Pregame thoughts: Game three is a big game, but I know that I can't get my hopes up too high because if the Wings do lose this game, they're still up 2-1 in the series. Breathe; relax; it's not the end of the world.

Oh, who am I kidding? I live and die with the Wings; every game, every period, every minute, every shift. Let's go boys.

First period thoughts: Unbelievable. 11 minutes of powerplay time for the 'Hawks, five of which went to Kronwall for a major interference penalty. That hit was brutal, but it was completely legal. The puck was there, and it's not Kronwall's fault that Havlat is too stupid to not pick it up between his skates.

The hit was amazing, it was legal, and it took away five minutes of time where Detroit could have tried to build some momentum heading into the second. The officials continue their shocking lack of consistency and idiotic penalty calls. The first Chicago goal happened on a powerplay (high sticking on Cleary that couldn't be avoided) and the second was a softie -- Ozzie's fault. He should've stopped that one, but only being down 2-0 after that mockery of a period is good, I suppose. I cannot believe how badly the refs blew that period. They gave the Wings absolutely no chance. Ugh. Must move on.

First intermission: Game misconduct? Really NHL? What. The. Sasquatch. That is complete bull. The hit was LEGAL. The announcers said so and everyone on the ice knows it. Here's some quotes for ya:

Brian Engblom: "I don't know why they kicked Kronwall out of the game. I hate seeing those hits too, but he should not have been kicked out of the game."

Keith Jones: "The call was excessive; that should not have been a five-minute major."

Ed Olczyk (the Blackhawks home announcer): "I think it was a violent hit, but I don't see a penalty on that hit."

What a joke this league is. Kronwall getting kicked out for that hit is the worst thing I've seen in this year's playoffs. If they lose this game in a close one, I'm gonna flip. Now, Detroit is going to have tired and fatigued defensemen by the end. Ugh.

Second period thoughts: No, no no no no no no no. 3-0 'Hawks. Damn deflection.

Ugh, now the refs are trying to make up for their incompetence with some "make-up" calls against Chicago (even though they're real penalties). It hasn't helped yet. Without Kronner, this game is in serious jeopardy. Now, the second powerplay unit defense has Lebda and Samuelsson on the point. Shoot me. The Kronwall ejection changes everything. It doesnt help that every bounce is going Chicago's way, especially in front of the net.

Unbelievable turn of events. Couple deflections and perseverance in front of Khabibulin, and all of sudden this bitch is tied. 3-3. Wow. Way to go Detroit. Silences the crowd and the Wings have every bit of momentum. Suck on that Chicago. If the Wings win this game, Chicago should just stop trying and quit the league. Still a whole period to go, but as long as the Wings keep playing like this, I'm confident.

Possible post titles: "I thought the Great Chicago Fire was in 1871? Gotta love a sequel." "Green Day has a new album? Nah, the REAL 21st Century Breakdown happens in Chicago."

Oh, and if the Wings win it'll be without their Hart Trophy candidate and while skating five defensemen. Awesome.

Third period thoughts: Whoa. Huet is in, Khabibulin is out. Ridiculous choice. How do you possibly make the decision to switch goalies in the most important game of the season when your team desperately needs to regroup? It takes serious balls to sit your starting goaltender and completely demolish any confidence he had. Crazy idiocy.

Ah, well apparently there's something wrong with Khabibulin because rookie backup Corey Crawford is on the bench. Even if it isn't Quenneville's fault, Chicago now has a goalie in net that hasn't played in a month in the third period of the most important game of their season. TAKE THIS WINGS!

The 'Hawks are playing tight. They're throwing hits, big ones at that, but the Wings have what teams call "poise," so they don't overreact. They keep playing their game. Good things coming, I can feel it.

Ugh, period ends tied. OT, here we come.

Overtime thoughts: Bullshit. Lucky bounce, lucky goal. Chicago has nothing. I'm not even that upset right now, to be honest. I mean yes, I'm angry, but I'm not throwing anything, pacing around seething or scaring the dog. Cody's half-asleep on the floor. There's no way that'd be true if I was really angry about this loss. Hell, the TV IS STILL ON. If I was pissed, it might be broken. Considering the situation (my absolute favorite team just lost a playoff overtime game), I'm calm.

What this game told me: Chicago is a complete fluke. They played a good period in the first, but who wouldn't when you get 11 minutes of powerplay time? I mean seriously, the last-place Islanders could have been up 3-0 on Detroit under those retarded circumstances. Then, they collapsed like a team of rookies and blew the lead at home. So what if they scored yet another opportunistic goal in overtime? They barely beat the Wings, who were playing without their best player (Datsyuk) and one of their top-four defesemen (Kronwall).

Last take: Game four will be a bloodbath, but the Wings will win and take a 3-1 series lead back home. I'm optimistic about that. Oh, if Kronwall is suspended, I'm going to demand Gary Bettman be replaced. That would be the ultimate injustice in a playoffs that has already seen way too much of it. Let's go Wings. See you Sunday.

Shock and Awe

2009-05-19T22:34:00.003-04:00

Somebody pinch me, poke me or do anything that would tell me this is real. The Red Wings, who've lost 16 of 23 playoff overtime games this decade (thanks TTD), won in overtime?! On a goal by Mikael Samuelsson?!?! I'd never believe it if somebody told me, but I saw it with my own eyes. It happened, and it. Was. Awesome.

Sammy is such a schizophrenic player. In a single game, I move from hair-pulling and cursing to fist pumping and loving entirely at his expense. This game was no exception. His lazy turnaround soft toss to Brian Campbell at the point in the first period that led to the 'Hawks first goal was awful. I hated him. His finishing touch on a bouncing puck on the Wings' 3-on-1 break that ended the game was beautiful. I loved him.

At the start of these playoffs, I was preparing my goodbyes to Sammy because I was sure he'd be leaving at the end of the postseason as one of Detroit's many unrestricted free agents. Now, I'm not so sure. He has five goals, three assists and sports a nice +5 rating. Obviously the magnificent Hossa is the top priority, but has Samuelsson now become more important than Hudler? I'm not prepared to answer that right now. Crazy how things turn in 13 games.

Overall, that game was more stressful than the first. Some of the ridiculous confidence I exuded after game one has died down, but it would have been completely depleted had the Wings just lost another game two OT thriller. Clearly, Honest Abe Toews and his baby sidekick Kane stepped up their play. But then again, so did Osgood.

Ozzie was amazing. He shouldn't have to make 35 saves in regulation because the Wings will usually bail him out with more goals, but he was great. I don't know where the Wings would be if they listened to me and threw Conklin in there from day one. Ozzie has proved everyone wrong, especially me, and been everything and more that the Wings need him to be. I'm impressed.

I'm going a little insane with Datsyuk still scoreless, especially since he is playing well in every other aspect, but he'll get one sooner or later. As long as he's winning faceoffs, forcing turnovers, dishing out hits, and making plays, I'm happy. Cleary was great again and the secondary scoring continues. I keep waiting for Dats, Hoss and Z to dominate a game with goals of their own but it hasn't happened. It will soon.

A couple last things before I move on: what the hell penalty killers?! Can we please go a single freaking game without allowing a powerplay goal? It's been 11 straight games; I'm tired of it. Game three prognostication: no powerplay goals for Chicago. Please. And lastly...I finally heard Samuelsson speak tonight in his postgame interview with Whosie Whatsit from Versus. He sounds kind of like how the Triple Deke makes him sound. I wish I could find the post where TTDSammy mistakenly mixes up Stevie Y and Paul Ysebaert. Hilarious. His real-life voice might have sounded a bit less intelligent tonight because he was yelling a bit, but I'm warming up to him. He could talk like this guy for all I care, and I'd still love him after tonight's heroics.

As for game three, I know the 'Hawks will come out strong and fast in front of their home fans. My hope is that the Wings can get a quick goal past the still-struggling Khabibulin and steal the game. If they do that, they might not even need a return trip to Detroit. If they let up an early one though, we could be going back to the D tied up at two just that fast. Let's pray to Yzerman that doesn't happen.

I always hate two days in between games, but only because I want to watch the Wings play every night. I'm sure both teams could use the rest, but I'll be waiting. One dominating performance in Chicago and this series could be over. See ya Friday. Go Wings.

Note to Chicago: Get used to it!

2009-05-17T20:34:00.005-04:00

See that? See that flock of Wings celebrating and the 'Bulin Wall crumbling behind them? Get used to it. You've got three more doses of it comin' real soon.

Neither the Wings nor the Hawks were at their best this afternoon, but Detroit came out on top 5-2. Cleary had himself a ballgame and the usual suspects played strong and sound defensively. Osgood was good when he needed to be and the 'Hawks were only in the game because of a couple opportunistic goals (one of which came on a powerplay that resulted from a complete phantom interference call on Jonathan Ericsson).

It's funny; I never once felt stressed about this game. Sure, it could have been some of the lasting effects of a killer hangover from my last night at college, but I can tell you right now it was nothing like game one against the Ducks. Now that was some stress. The kiddy Hawks? Nah, they don't scare me. I'm more scared of Nashville in the postseason. Why? Oh, I don't know; maybe because the Predators have been to the postseason before. These Hawks have zero experience. Sammy Pahlsson, the 'Bulin Wall and Andrew Ladd are the only players with rings on the team. That's laughable.

I mean yes, this team will be good and might win a Cup, but they're simply a road bump on the Wings' drive to 12. This first game proved that to me.

I must catch myself a little, since I felt great about Detroit and championship banner number 12 after their game one win over Anaheim too, but this is different. Chicago can't win this series. They can try, and try they will; it'll be tougher than it was today, but it won't happen. These Red Wings are more talented at every position.

See you Tuesday. Go Wings.