The Preview Post - Game 4. The Final.

So it looks like Tomas Holmstrom is going to be out for Detroit in Game 4 of The Cup Final. And plenty o' pundits are predicting a Pens win, especially since the game is in Pittsburgh. And as much as I'd like to agree with the majority, I fear that it is not to be as the match will be an absolute Red Wings blow out. Like 7-0 or something as horrifying.

Malkin, Crosby, Hossa and the like will be over playing, over thinking and ultimately over their heads as Octo-net will grow another tentacle immediately to replace the severed one that the Holmstrom injury represents. If Pens are able to get on the board, it will be a grinder like Roberts or even LaRoque that will muscle their way to the net.

The Wings are going to be so focused and lethal tonight, I'm almost afraid to watch.

Yeah, yeah, yeah...

The Celtics won the East and are now on their way to meet the Lakers in the finals. Like who didn't call this? I've watched maybe seven basketball games all year and could have told you this in November.

All the pundits have got LA on lock down for the title. I'm saying fuck it. Garnett is going to dominate the whole series. He's there for the first time and he's going to just simply take it.

Kobe, Schmobe.

You heard it here first.

Thanks Luc

It is an inconceivable tragedy when someone passes away at so young an age. Luc Bourdon had a future that was nova bright. Let's hope that light lingers around the lower mainland for a long time to come.

The Canucks have put up a photographic memorial that you can view here.

Sid Says Enough

Although Game 3 was played tonight, the Stanley Cup Finals have now officially begun.

Wow. What a match. After the Pens were shut out for the first few games, Crosby said enough shit and scored the opening two goals. And monster goals they were. The first two of the series, netted by the guy wearing both the "C" and the target on his jersey.

This led the way for the rest of the squad to do their thing. Although Malkin didn't score, he had some key hits. Marc-Andre Fleury was positively Cirque Du Stanley in net and 42 year old Gary Roberts literally fought and clawed his way though three Red Wings to set up the eventual game winner.

Although the at home effort was probably the most important and therefore most intense playoff match played by the Pens, the Red Wings look absolutely scary. All of the pundits are right. Detroit looks like a team that's made up of the next generation of Terminators. Deadly cool, deadly calculating and deadly efficient.

These D-1000's seem to be able to read each other's minds and assemble in formidable attack formation in an instant. I would not be surprised if they were under the mental control of a giant cybernetic octopus that was developed by Chrysler, which now resides in the sub-basement at one of the plants. Make no mistake. Octo-net might have lost the game tonight. But it is learning. And will perform Crosby neutralizing calculations for two days until Game 4 (2).

"Contacting D-1000-Franzen. D-1000-Zetterberg is approaching on the left. Pass to him now."

Gary Carter Controversy?

Apparently so, as he said in a radio interview that he'd be up for the Mets managerial job, should the organization fire Willie Randolph. Carter, who's skipping the Orange County Flyers of the independent Golden League in California, made an off hand comment that has now ballooned into a full blown controversy. Bewildered by all the media attention, he has since retracted his statement, and wished the current Mets manger well.

As I am a huge Gary Carter supporter, I stand by him as he was probably just cracking wise with the radio hosts. But I do have to pose this question:

Why would anyone want to manage the Mets?

Back In Action...

Ok, we're back. Let's see what's been going on in the land of what's going on.

...Six scoreless periods by the Pens in the Stanley Cup Finals. What? Malkin, Crosby and Hossa all held off the board? Pittsburgh might have to switch things up for Game 3 by putting LaRoque on the scoring line and shuffle The Kid off to the fourth line to duke it out with McCarty...

...Bring out the brooms. The Jays have won five straight, the last four against the Royals, and are in the thick of things in the new League To Beat. Marco Scutaro, who is turning into the uber-utility man, cracked a jack as T.O. added to the Royals' misery and their now eight game losing steak. Up next for the Jays, a trip to Oakland where Frank Thomas has probably been bashing the heads off J.P. Ricciardi bobble heads during BP.

...Speaking of the new League To Beat, the Yanks lost to the O's tonight, and dropped to a game under .500 in addition to gaining sole occupancy of the AL East basement. You gotta love this game sometimes...

Please Stand By...

Technical difficulties originate at the web hosting provider and not Maniwaki HQ. We will be up shortly and will continue to provide you the surgical scalpel sharp spectacle dissection that you have come to expect daily. Thank you for your patience.

Saturday Baseball Ticker

...The bat boy does it again. This time, Jesse Litsch, hurled a complete game shut out to drop KC 6-0 at the Dome. Ex-Spo, Brad Wilkerson, (who's probably chowed down on a few Montreal smoked meat sandwiches in his time) stepped up to the plate and announced a resounding, "Fuck this stranded runners nonsense. I'm clearing the slate," and blasted a monster sized Shopsy's Deli salami to put the Jays up 4 - zip in the first. Now that's good eatin'...

...Yanks' skipper, Joe Girardi, will serve a one game suspension for getting all retro and having a classic managerial meltdown at The Stadium last week. After performing the obligatory screaming and yelling, then throwing his cap and kicking dirt on the home plate ump, Chris Guccione, I can't help but think that this will not have the same effect in a few years when Girardi will probably have to unleash on a robotic UmpireTron 2000.

...Mike Piazza, the catcher on my All Fuck Off Team has decided to call it a day. While I could go on a Maniwaki monologue massacre, sometimes you just have to tip your hat to the guy that can say it better.

Rage Against The Video Machine

The grand old game is going to about to become a lot less grand as the idea of implementing video replay is being batted around baseball offices. As noted yesterday, the move would begin in the Arizona Fall League this year, barring any major problems it would then continue in next year's World Baseball Classic, and would make it's debut in The Bigs on Opening Day 2009.

You can probably guess the three words that I am about to type in these e-pages. Yet, never before have I been so passionate and resolute about their meaning. Instant replay in Major League Baseball will be unequivocally, undeniably, unbelievably:

Bad. For. Baseball.

Here's why. There is a reason why the sport is called the grand old game. Because essentially, it has been played the same way for over 100 years. Unlike hockey that has a significant rule change in what seems like every season, baseball has remained relatively untouched for a very long time.

For traditionalists, like myself and the 4 billion other ball fans on the planet, this is a good thing. Going to a Major League ball game, (especially if it is takes place at one of the neo retro parks ala Safeco field) evokes a profound sense of reverence to eras gone by and to the legends that have played the game in said eras. Although there wasn't even a team in Seattle in the first half of the 20th century, entering Safeco, one can't help but think what the game was like way back when. Like what it would've been like to watch the Babe yank one over the wall. Or to see the Red Sox win one of their last World Series before the drought. Or to see the Cubs win a Series.

When the train whistle sounds during live games, as the freight engines zip past Safeco, I often wonder what it would've it been like to be player in those days, swapping stories, drinking bourbon and playing cards with team mates en route to St. Louis or Cincinnati or Philadelphia. Or what it would've been like to be a member of the press, travelling with the big league club, jotting down quips from managers and recording witty retorts from marquee name players in hopes of spinning up a compelling story up with a catchy accompanying headline for the next day's paper.

Yup, baseball parks are magical places indeed. And instant replay threatens to erode the magic. Even if it is to be put in place for boundary calls only. Opening the door to the Umpiretron 2000 in any capacity is just wrong.

Yes, there have been a string of incidents in the past as well as a few presently, where the umpires have left there glasses on the kitchen table. But it's never been a severe problem. In fact, I would credit Major League umpires with having an astonishing accuracy rate when judging some incredibly close calls.

Each October, in addition to marvelling at which ever team has strung together that win streak, or whoever has made that sick catch, or got that key hit, I am also blown away by the caliber of officiating in very tough games. The number of times that umpires get very close calls correct is straight up staggering.

During the epic Red Sox run of '04, the Skip and I were doing our part for The Nation and taking in the games at a Rue St. Laurent watering hole in Montreal. I don't remember which exact game, or which Red Sox player it was, but I do remembering sitting and sweating Tremblay beer out of my pores as the umpires got together to discuss a borderline ball that hit the line and looked like a jack. When they reconvened and the home plate Ump twirled his finger around to verify that it was indeed a bomb, the roof of Le Tavern au St Laurent, just about came off. I could not imagine if this decision had been sent up to some office in Fenway for validation. Or even worse it got transmitted to MLB HQ in NYC for review.

The fact that knowing that that same call would've been determined the exact same way the last time the Sox won the World Series 87 years earlier, added another tick on the score card as to why I am a baseball fan. To allow video replay would take away from a game that for the most part, has gotten along fine without it for over a century.

Instant Replay = Instant Death

MLB is talking about toying with instant replay in Arizona Fall League games this season. Then the World Baseball Classic next year. Then, barring no Wrigley destroying mishaps, implementation into regular season play for next year. But just for home run calls only.

The Maniwaki Response:

FUCK. OFF.

Keep baseball pure.

...more to follow...

2008 Champions League Final - Maniwaki Match Notes

Oh my god! Lampard just hit the cross bar!

Right. I've got the UEFA Cup Champion's League on the telly right now and what an event it is. Admittedly, I know very little about European Football, so don't be expecting an in-depth breakdown on each squad's roster or how many touches per match they averaged last season. Like most North Americans, I can rattle off a couple of teams, a few high profile players, and recant a few hazy World Cup Guinness soaked memories.

But enough of these northern, non-soccer nation excuses. Let's give this match the Maniwaki once over play by play:

1. For only the third time in history, two clubs from the same country are in the Champions League Final. Manchester United and Chelsea are duking it out in extra time right now on the Moscow pitch. 1-1 so far.

2. My Dad is a life long Chelsea supporter and our family comes from a line of the most serious Russian heritage, so there can be no doubt as to who must win this contest. I don't care if Chelsea has been called the New York Yankees of the English Premiere League, in this case I'm rooting for the pinstripes. Or blue shirts to be more accurate.

3. Which must mean that Man U are the Red Sox by default. Except that the Sox have A-Rod, or Christiano Ronaldo. Who was responsible for the first goal of the match, and who I can't stand almost as much as A-Rod. Maybe it was his constant diving and griping during the last World Cup. And every other time I've watched him play.

4. A couple of unbelievable chances so far in OT. Frank Lampard, who got the equalizer for Chelsea (I've always wanted to write that in earnest), blasted one off the crossbar early in extra time, which would've sealed the deal for Chelsea. For a moment, I thought I was watching the '06 World Cup, where he fanned on every shot he had which resulting in me spitting out venom laced Guinness every time. Hey at least this time he hit the net. Sort of.

5. Reason to like Manchester United. Wayne Rooney. Talk about the British Bulldog. If he wasn't making many, many pounds sterling from kicking the ball on the big stage, he'd probably be tearing up some club stage as a member of Gallows.

6. Reason to hate Manchester United. The aforementioned, Christiano Ronaldo. He just went on a breakaway and got tackled hard. Clean, but hard. Oh look. Now he's bitching to the ref.

7. Unbelievable A scrum! What is this? The Stanley Cup Playoffs? A late period pile up has resulted in a red card for Didier Drogba for Chelsea as well as a yellow for Carlos Tevez of Man U. Drogba's offense? Slapping Nemanja Vidic in the face. Slapping? No...this definitely isn't the Stanley Cup Playoffs.

The commentators are noting about how nasty this match has gotten, after the face slap and subsequent red card. I just read an ESPN expose this morning on the underground culture of hockey fighting in North America. Things are different on this side of the pond for sure.

8. The Drogba ejection is bad for Chelsea as apparently he'd be one of the shooters, should the game go to penalty kicks. (which is looking more and more likely) This would be like if Malkin took a stupid penalty for trying to scrap McCarty in OT of Game 7.

9. Who is this Chelsea goalie? He looks like some extreme water polo maniac. He's made a couple of stunning saves so far and as we are now going into penalty kicks, my money's riding on him.














10. While I love the shootout in the NHL regular season, couldn't fathom it deciding the Stanley Cup outcome. Holy smokes. I couldn't even imagine if I were a regular follower of football. Now all the rioting makes sense.

11. And here it is. The shoot out to decide the Champion of the Champions's League.

- Tevez nails one for Man U.

- Chelsea responds by putting one in the top corner.

- The Water Polo Road Warrior (who's name is Petr Cech so I've googled) guesses wrong and dives left when he should've gone right.

- and once again Chelsea responds with the exact same move. 2-2.

- Ronaldo's up. Miss fucko! HE MISSED!!!
JUSTICE! AND I DON'T MEAN THOSE FRENCH HOUSE GEEKS.

- AND LAMPARD DRILLS ONE TO TAKE THE LEAD 3-2.

- Hargreaves just barely gets one for Man U as it hits the cross bar and lands just over the line

- Ashley Cole has hit that left corner again. Which I am convinced has a Chelsea magnet in it.

- last chance for Man U. MISS!

- if Chelsea scores they win. Captain John Terry had the keeper fooled and picked the Chelsea corner, but the magnet must have failed as the ball missed the net.

- Anderson just kicked to give the lead to Man U. What? How did that happen I'm going to have to brush up on my penalty kick protocol. It must be single elimination after 5 shots.

- this cat, Salomon Kalou, just kept it alive for Chelsea.

- Ryan Giggs for United has just smacked one.

- Ack!!! MISS! Nicola Anelka should've gone for the Chelsea corner as he tried to switch it up and go for the other side. Which the Man U keeper saved, winning the whole damm UEFA Cup.

Ah fuck, there's Ronaldo rolling around on the pitch like a moron. Man, I feel bad for John Terry.

a. for missing his shot and;

b. for having to watch Ronaldo ham it up.

Maniwaki Man Of The Match goes to Petr Cech for coming up with some monster saves and looking positively lunatic doing so.

It would've been nice if he and his Chelsea team mates could've stuck it to Ronaldo and co. Oh well, such is international football. I guess the only thing left to do is go down to Granville St. and start a one man soccer riot in the middle of the afternoon.

See you on The Real Football Factories.

A New Chapter

So the Celtics upped the ante and won Game 1 of the Eastern Final as KG and Paul Pierce, current wearer of the Cindarella-esque glass Air Jordans, both dropped over 20 points in the 88-79 win over the Pistons.

I tuned in the third quarter to see another stellar Celtic combo of Rajon Rondo and James Posey manufacture back to back steals, the second resulting in a decisive drive to the net and subsequent two by Rondo.

Like the West Final in the NHL, the Eastern counterpart in the NBA seems like a formality. Where we're waiting for one team to graciously bow out after winning one, maybe two games so we can get to the main event. In hockey, we want Detroit to roll onto the next and final round so we can see Zetterberg square off against Sid. In hoops, Detroit can't seize up fast enough because we want to fast forward to see KG square off against Kobe.

Maybe after the Pistons inevitably exit, shooting guard, Richard Hamilton, will join the Red Wings to help in the war effort against the Penguins. Keeping with the tradition of Piston players who scare the beejeezus out of us, Hamilton should have no problem continuing where Bill Laimbeer left off 14 years ago and put the fear of God into Mario's men.

It's almost like the fifth installment of the Friday The 13th franchise, "A New Beginning" where an upstart dons the mask to continue Jason Vorhees' bloody legacy.

Sid and Malkin beware.

Scary Pistons of yesterday (Laimbeer)


...and today (Hamilton)

The Showdown

Wings Win!!!

Thank God, because Dallas in the final would have had me as amped up as if I were asked to petition the House Of Representatives, The Senate and the Supreme Court in hopes of amending the U.S. Constitution to let Bush run for a third term.

Since we successfully dodged that Colt .45 bullet, we can know kick back with a couple cans of the aforementioned and watch a true show down that even old Clint himself would spark a stogie for. Namely, the ender ender of all things hockey, The 2008 Stanley Cup Final.

Hockeytown Henrik vs The Steeltown Kid. A grizzled veteran (Osgood) vs an ambitious upstart (Fleury). Sharpshooters, sharpshooters and more sharpshooters. Will the Canadian Captain theory stand up or will Kiss have to pen a new song entitled, Moscow Rock City?

Sure there are no Canadian teams in the Final, but for a guy that was cheering for hockey, let's just say that a huge "W" went into the win column.

MARKET VALUE

Let’s say you’re a cook at Burger King. Hey, good for you. It’s a great summer job. You show up every day, put in your hours, don’t have to care whether or not the tomato slice on every Whopper you’re making is exactly centered on the patty, eat as much as you want during your breaks, then head home later that night. Pretty sweet, no?

But then you got into the Ritalin.

It started off innocently enough. You were at a party. Your buddies just got a hook-up from “a-friend-of-this-guy-that-my-brother-knows”. You and the boys are sitting on the floor, staring at the pile of little white goodies on the coffee table. Do you take one? Did he? Should I take another?

Why not? It can’t be that bad, can it?

Before you know it, you’re not just taking it at parties. Or with friends. Wake up the morning? Pop one. Before work? Definitely need to take one.

Ok, so your body felt a little funny most of the time but goddam could you concentrate on those Tendercrisp Chicken Sandwich combos. Every leaf of lettuce was delicately laid down, every spread of mayo was absolutely uniform, and every French fry came out of the oil vat a deep, golden brown. And my god were you pushing out the numbers. Never took a shift off… never missed a routine bathroom cleanup… never screwed up an order.

What’s up, employee of the month? How you look now?

Phone rings. It’s the manager of the McDonald’s across town. He explains that his owner has given him free reign to spend as much as he needs to put together the ‘ultimate’ McDonald’s. He’s had his eye on you. He wants to give you a job. He’s heard about your proclivity for making the flawless burger, and his owner demands perfection. They haven’t had a franchise-of-the-year designation from head office since 2000, and everyone’s starting to feel a little ancy.

The conversation continues. He clarifies to you that money is no object. He offers you a slight raise. You’re currently making about seven bucks an hour. He counters with a starting wage of $17.79/hr with a guaranteed progressive increase to $39.97/hr over the next five years. There are only two stipulations:

(1) you need to get a trim to make sure you fit into the new hair nets, and;

(2) you need to feel different when you put on that new uniform. Cooking at McDonald’s, of course, comes with a certain level of pride.

Do you take the job?

*********

A week later you’re standing there at the introductory training session, looking around the room. And then. It happens. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of your hero. You’ve read about him. You’ve heard the urban legends. You know the story:

Recruited as a bright-eyed teenager. Been here his whole life. Contributed to the 1996 franchise of the year contest way more than anyone could have expected. Started commanding respect from the older cooks. Was a leader by example. Truly cared about his sandwiches. Working at McDonald’s had been his life-long dream, and now he’s been promoted to head of the kitchen. My god, what a blessed life.

You and he work together in various capacities over the next little while, but things never seem to go your way. Over the years, you can tell that there’s still a few pieces missing. Your boss agrees.

You show up to work one day…

Hey… over there…. isn't that the guy that once made 37 Oreo Blizzards in 12 minutes at the DQ over on Randol Mill Rd.? Holy crap, I’ve heard about that guy. He’s a friggin’ mercenary.

Some time later…

No way… is it? The guy at the cutting board? Isn’t that the dude who used to prep ingredients at the rival McDonald’s on Brookline Ave? You know, the one that won franchise of the year in 2004? What the hell, he’s working here now??

Slowly you see all the pieces coming together. But in the back of your mind you know something’s just not right. You know it’s coming.

Then the word comes down. Head office has just instituted a mandatory urine-test.

Oh no.

Before you’re even subjected to the indignity of having a pimply-faced teenager wearing a paper hat watch you pee into a sundae cup, you feel a desperate urge to come clean. You know that there’s no way that you can keep up your recent performance without the Ritalin. Sure, you’ll try your best, but you know damn well that there’s only so much you can do with the natural talent that you have.

You immediately give a blanket apology to management and your co-workers. Nothing specific, but you just wanted to get a load off of your chest.

Do they ask you to clarify?

Not really.

Are you fired?

Nope.

Are you suspended?

Uhhhh, no.

Does your boss try to get out of the agreement that was obviously signed under the misguided notion that you could cook like you have been without ‘a little help’?

Nay.

Instead – and much to your disbelief – you’re praised for your forthrightness and placed immediately in front of the griddle. We’ve got work to do, boys…

*********

Flash forward to the present day.

There has been no franchise of the year designation.

Your numbers are way down, but that was to be expected; no one’s terribly surprised about that. You’re doing your best, though.

The DQ mercenary is still showing the ability to make McFlurries like a mad-man, but for some reason he’s only at his best on cold days when it doesn’t really matter. Put him in the middle of a 100 degree scorcher when there’s dozens of kids screaming to their parents that they need ice cream NOW and he just shuts down.

The prep cook from the Brookline McDonald’s has seen better days. He’s getting older. He can’t slice lettuce with the same fervor that he used to. He misses his old co-workers. At least they were fun to be around.

The kitchen head is still doing his best, but he knows the deal. All the glory and adulation that was lavished upon him as a young lad is starting to diminish. Just a little. Everyone in the industry still knows that he’s one of the best motivators out there, but the cracks in his image are starting to become apparent.

And now your owner is mad as hell. He’s dished out a ton of cash to put together perhaps the greatest fast-food talent in the industry, but things just aren’t coming together. He even fired the experienced battle-worn assistant manager and replaced him with an ex-line cook, but that’s obviously backfired. What’s worse is that said assistant manager is now working at the downtrodden Wendy’s across town that was on the verge of bankruptcy and has completely turned it around, while you’re still left with a rookie at the helm.

Who’s left to blame?

Tell you what. You want to let the Skip offer a suggestion?

Think about it. Is it the cooks’ fault that they agreed to offers that screamed, “You’re going to pay me how much??? To cook burgers?? Hell, yeah!!”

No. No it is not.

Instead, ask yourself one simple question. Who is ultimately responsible for bringing together this group of yahoos in the first place?

You guessed it.

There is only one man to blame. The franchise manager. You may know him by various monikers, but I know him by only one…

Brian Cashman.

*********

In case the metaphorical rant above wasn’t abundantly clear already, let’s spell it out. Try reading it again but this time make the following substitutions…

You play for the New York Yankees.

You are Jason Giambi.

The kitchen head? My man D-Jetes.

The DQ Mercenary? Some guy named A-Rod.

The prep cook from Brookline? One Mr. Johnny Damon.

The battle-worn assistant manager? Joe Torre.

The ex-line cook? Joe Girardi.

The owner? The owner.

*********

Yup. The timer’s now gone off, and Hank has had his first major explosion of the year. As much as we love to hate anyone from the Steinbrenner family and tend to disregard anything they say as mindless prattle, can you really blame him?? Consider the following:

Fact 1: The Yankees have a payroll of $207,148,489 this year.

Fact 2: The Yankees occupy the cellar of the AL East.

I’m going to go ahead and assume that if you handed over two hundred million smackers to someone with the expectation that he had sufficient ability to assemble a quality roster but you were subsequently rewarded with a big kick in the teeth, you might be a little choked.

So, yes, I’ll go on record and say that I agree with The Boss 2.0 when he says something to the effect of, “They’ve got to play smarter and harder.”

However, having him respond with a simple “yes” when asked if it was time for his players to start earning their money is entirely shortsighted and misguided. Just because you’re paying these guys at the ridiculous rate that you are by no means indicates that they’re worthy of what they’re getting.

Listen. If you give a line cook $20,000,000 a year, does it automatically make up for the fact that he didn’t study at the Cordon Bleu?

Of course not.

Surely you can expect a quality club sandwich to be punched out in short order, but for godsake don’t expect him to make you a sea bass fillet with a balsamic reduction lovingly placed over a bed of white truffle risotto and expect it to be any good. The capability just flat-out isn’t there.

The major issue here is that Hank is expecting his roster to play to the level of their salaries instead of playing to the level of their abilities.

Let there be no mistake, a clear distinction must be drawn here. A player can expect to be compensated commensurate with how he performs on the field. A player cannot be expected to perform on the field commensurate with how much he is being compensated.

The latter, simply, is ass backwards.

Again, this all comes back to Monsieur Cashman. Over the years he’s been provided with unlimited resources – the major hurdle for any GM to overcome – and he has repeatedly shown that his ability to assess and properly reward talent is resoundingly unworthy of his continuing to be gainfully employed.

Obviously, he no longer has any idea what the market value of a player really is. Rather, he simply believes that by calling upon his bottomless cash pool and dictating the market that the players can magically call upon some bottomless talent pool and live up to the cost.

Sorry, son. Not gonna happen.

- the Skip

Never Mind The Stanley Cup Playoffs...

Let's check in and see what's going on in the NBA Playoffs.

Admittedly hoops takes the back seat, especially at this time of the year, and especially since Bosh and the boys have been playing X-box for a few weeks already.

But it appears that there are a doin's transpiring that cannot be ignored.

1. Western Inevitability. Kobe and Co have summarily dispatched the Jazz 4-2, to advance to the West Final. While this is hardly surprising, and while the only way I could ever remotely root for the Lakers would be rocking out to the p-funk classic "Magic Johnson" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers like back in my high school days, I do have to say that the squad is not entirely unlikeable.

The odd quarter I've caught of Lakers basketball this season has featured the ever dominant Pau Gasol, who's done nothing but dismantle defenses with his solid play. A few times I had to wonder what would've happened if:

a. He would've stayed with the Grizzlies and;

b. the Grizz would've never left town. I'd probably be at GM Place more often than once every five years.

2. Eastern Inevitability. While the Red Wings are trying to wrap things up in Game 5 of the Eastern Final in Hockeytown, the Pistons are gearing up for the hoops version as they shattered illusions and killed the Magic 4-1. Must be nice to live in a town where you have two big league squads that are in the Conference Finals in their respective sports. Oh look. The Red Wings have just scored to tie the game.

3.What is this about? San Antonio is not bruising and thus cruising to another automatic post season series victory? They actually had to rally to force a Game 7? Against the Hornets? NBA Superstars Chris Paul (who?) and Tyson Chandler (sounds like some grade 8 kid playing intramural b-ball) have been taking it to Duncan and the rest of the Cobra Kai Spurs? I might go over to Vancouver Island on Monday night to kick it with Steve Nash while we hoist pints of Keith's watching the demise of the Spurs.

4. And this? And if one unexpected Game 7 isn't enough, how about two? Featuring Optimus Prime versus Megatron? Sure LeBron and the Cavs went to the Finals last year, but really...did you honestly see them lasting more than 5 games against the rock star Celtics? Did you really see any team (other than those dastardly Spurs) really being able to out match KG and the crew?

Some of my favourite on line punditeers have been screaming about the over managing of Celtics coach, Doc Rivers, and his disastrous coaching results. However, Doc aside, it appears that King James and the ever thuggable, Delonte West, have been able to take the fighting Irish to a final and deciding round. Which will not go to decision.





"That's right. The Big Ticket gets punched on Sunday."

APOLLO BACK IN RADIO CONTACT

Greetings, kiddies.

I’ll start off by apologizing for the hiatus from this space. Though the last few months have been chock-full of riveting sports stories, my mind has been off on the moon… quite literally. Yes I’ve been doing my share of watching, but the lack of verbal retorts from the sugar shack has been shameful.

My people deserve more.

So should you choose to forgive me and agree to set sail together yet again, let’s batten down the hatches and let you all in on the perspective of the world from here at la maison.

Onward, ho’:

(1) I’d like to throw out a grand ‘merci’ to les Boys for a great showing this season. From the pundits predicting a 12th place finish in the East to an eventual regular season conference championship and a gallant second-round effort, je vous remercier. I have never before seen this city so alive with joy, revelry, and camaraderie. It was exactly like during the referendum, except the exact opposite. You want something to unite the francos and anglos in Quebec? Screw culture talk. Just drape yourself in bleu-blanc-rouge, as illustrated by …

(2) … the tens of thousands of people on the streets celebrating together during the so-called ‘hockey’ riots that led to a ton of bad press for la ville du hockey. For godsake, gimme a break. There were about (no exaggeration) 30,000 delirious Jean-Guys and Claudettes partying in the streets (yes, I may have been among them), of which only about 30 were responsible for the ridiculosity that was broadcast throughout North America. By my calculations, that’s about 0.1% of the street-bound population that caused all the ruckus. And believe you me, these were no hockey fans. They were simply the idiots that always wanted to burn a couple of police cars but never before had the opportunity. The true nature of hockey fans in this city should rather be judged by their resounding support for…

(3) … Jesus Price. Yes, I know common convention amongst the Toronto-based media monster has blamed la sortie from the playoffs on the performance of our 20 year-old savior. Anyone who actually watched the games, though, will note that the vast majority of the ‘bad’ goals he let in were either when he was being screened by two of his own players or the puck having been deflected off of a defenseman. The criticism he faced afterwards was entirely unwarranted. You’ll notice, though, that while the idiots at CBC and TSN seemed to have their blinders on, he was never once lambasted by…

(4) … the crowds at La Centre Bell. Let me tell you, I’ve been there for some pretty big events in the past (second game ever played there, various home openers and closers, playoff games in previous years, World Cup ’96 gold medal games 2 and 3, etc…) and I have NEVER heard that place so loud. There was an amazing energy throughout the building over the entire playoff run, something that no one outside of this city could ever understand. Never was this more apparent than…

(5) … when singing our national anthem. There are few more powerful moments in sports than standing alongside 21,272 of your compatriots belting out the bilingual version of O’ Canada at the top of your lungs. Perhaps, though, Les Glorieux would have been best served to take the lyrics a bit more literally. To wit:

[en francais]

“…car ton bras sait porter l’epee, il sait porter la croix…”

Loose translation:

“… if your arm can carry the sword, it should also be able to carry the cross…”

And oh how a cross would have come in handy against those orange bastards… or a necklace of garlic… or a silver-tipped arrow… or Steve Begin fashioning his stick into a stake. How else can one be expected to defeat …

(6) … the undead, Martin Biron. Seriously, Marty. Was winning a second round series on your home turf worth the price of your soul? Was two weeks of glory worth eternal damnation?

Methinks, no.

Unfortunately, he and I seem to be at odds on this one.

While obviously, I would have loved to use my previously acquired ducats for Games 1 and 2 of the Conference and Cup finals, respectively, there is one positive that can be derived from this outcome: the battle of Pennsylvania on one side and a Stars-Wings clash on the other left us with …

(7) … a 75% chance that history will yet again repeat itself. For a refresher, why don’t you go ahead and take a gander at the second half of this twin bill.

Done reading? Good.

Damn skippy. I’ll say it again. Having a captain and goaltender hailing from the great white north is the single greatest predictor of success in the quest for Lord Stanley’s mug. After having seen the first four games of both series, though, it’s looking a lot more likely that we’re going to be witnessing …

(8) … a Motown-Steeltown showdown, which ultimately presents us with a Lidstrom/Osgood tandem facing off against the Crosby/Fleury duo. Having seen both teams live this year, my head tells me that the Wings should be unstoppable. Too fast, too good in transition, too much firepower, too experienced. Meanwhile, everyone is drawing the Pens-are-the-Oil-of-the-early-80’s parallels, but lest we forget that even Wayner lost his first trip to the finals. Could the Kid actually pull through and lead his squadron to victory in his inaugural dance? ...

(9) … Yup ...

(10) ... Pens in 7.

- the Skip

Stars Step Up

It's not like I care. Really. Dallas could have crapped out in the first round, or even better yet, not made the playoffs and it wouldn't have made one ounce of difference. The only thing that would get me remotely interested in the team is they up and left the lone star state and relocated to mosquito country, Manitoba for the 08/09 season.

But. Since they are playing in the West Final, and were down 3-0 to the Red Wings, for a guy that's cheering for hockey, it's at least nice that they made it a series. Or at least kept it mildly interesting for another day. Too many sweeps = boring. And we don't cheer for boring.

So Modano, Morrow and the rest of you lot, now that you've got your one game, you can exit the stage salvaging at least a shred of pride. Now please go onto getting up ended in Game 5, by a score of 7-2, so we get to the main title card of "When Animals Attack", which features the very rare but very vicious battle between an octopus and penguin.

Hank Spanks Yanks

Hank Steinbrenner, now running the Empire as senior VP, has called out his Stormtroopers, saying that they're not putting forth enough effort on the battlefield. He also threatened to change things "by force" next year, if things don't turn around.

What would this entail? Commandeering the armed forces to take down Hideki "Godzilla" Matsui with rpg's if the Japanese superstar doesn't hit enough bombs? Hiring Chuck Lidell to back fist Bobby Abreu right out of the Death Star if he misses a routine fly ball?

These in-Stadium Steinbrenner antics leave Camp Maniwaki partying like its the tenth installment of Meatballs, as blond bombshells water ski across lake and Roman Candles routinely rocket overhead. Perhaps Hank should consider the following before threatening everyone with the Sarlacc Pit:

1. A-Rod and Posada are both out of the line up. A-Rod's absence is obvious, but Posada's is understated. The catcher everyone loves to hate (especially here at HQ) has been a mainstay in the clubhouse and has only missed five games (due to a 2001 suspension) since 1996. Teammates have reportedly been walking around the locker room aimlessly bumping into each other due to Posada's DL stint. Apparently he is "the glue" of the clubhouse according to D-Jeets.

2. Maybe Joe Torre wasn't to blame for the lack of Bombs flying out of the Bronx. Looks like ex-Yanks' skipper is right on track in LA as the Dodgers are second in the NL West behind the best team in baseball, the Diamondbacks.

3. The Yanks front office missed the Santana sweepstakes. Losing the prize free agent in the offseason to cross town rivals the Mets, the Yanks elected to go with emerging young guns Phil Hughes and Ian Kennedy. In addition to shelling out 46 million and taking a chance on Japanese import Kei Igawa last season, the rotation now looks like a smashed up Impala on the Dukes Of Hazzard. Hughes has gone 0-4 this year and now sits on the DL. Kennedy has been shipped back to Triple A Scranton to kick it with Steve Carral and the gang at The Office, and Igawa got bumped from the rotation to "(take) his time adjusting to the American game." (read: getting shellacked nightly)

Considering these factors, it seems that management is not so sparkling white with pristine pinstripes, so before Hank points the ion cannon at the lads during BP, he might want to reconsider his own plan to conquer the galaxy.

Philly Must Phail!!!

Game 3 of the East Final. 2-1 Pens in the first. Here are the top seven reasons why Philly must falter:

1. They're whining about the loss of Braydon Coburn and Kimmo Timonen to injury, when the squad was responsible for some of the most brutal acts around the league this season.

2. They jacked Pennywise's "Bro Hymn" from Anaheim's playbook, playing the punk rock anthem when the Flyers score. Get your own song.

3. They denied us a second round that would've featured the Canadiens vs the Rangers and the Pens vs the Capitals by beating the Caps in OT in Game 7 of the first round.

4. They then went on to shock everyone by knocking out the Canadiens in five games officially upping the tally to fifteen years since a Canadian squad has hoisted.

5. They acquired RJ Umberger and turned him into an effective weapon, after the Canucks initially drafted him and then traded him away to the Rangers. So far in these playoffs he has nine goals and four assists while the entire Canucks roster has zero.

6. Their '08 Playoff motto is "Vengeance Now." What do they need vengeance for? Sending half of the league to the infirmary this season, whilst racking up a combined total of 49 suspensions amongst offending players?

7. They thought they could manhandle the Pens in Game 1, but Mario's lads responded by sticking it back to them. Let's take a peek at Malkin shaking it off and getting back up in the Flyers' face mask.

The Fourth Line Rivets Down The Win

Talk about firing on all cylinders. Sure the usual suspects (Crosby, Hossa...) were responsible for Pittsburgh's first two goals yesterday vs Philly but who'd thought the game winner would've been scored by blue collar steel worker, Maxime Talbot, assisted by fellow lunch boxers, Gary Roberts and Georges Laraque?

As we've seen some teams making spectacular post season runs recently, the Penguins 10-1 playoff record is typical of a squad where everyone including the equipment manager chips in.

Does this translate into an automatic Championship? Not necessarily, as both the Rockies and Pats were unable to spin Hollywood endings to their respective feel good scripts.

Which leads me to ask the question:

Are these same screen writers penning the Pens fate?

The Hook

Looks like Eric Gagne has been pulled from his closing duties in Milwaukee. After blowing yet another save, the Mascouche Warrior relayed to the press that he deserved to get yanked from the position.

Hard to argue with, after the only thing you could depend on him for since last October is giving up ninth inning jacks.

To paraphrase The Skip:

"You know what makes me sad?"

A once dominant, former Cy Young winner who boasted an astonishing 55 saves in '03, who in the off season was named in the Mitchell Report for using HGH (which calls into question said storybook Cy Young season), and has done nothing but shank almost every save opportunity he has been handed.

Not good for baseball. Nay. Goose.

The Eighth Belongs To Joba

Yanks/Tigers on right now. With the Yanks up 5-2, Joba's up in the eighth to set up Mariano Rivera in the ninth. Let's see how he does.

First batter. Curtis Granderson. Punched out. Gets him swinging on a breaking ball.

Second batter. Matt Joyce. Ground out to Cano at second.

Third batter. Carlos Guillen. Ground out to Jeter.

Bang. Bang. And bang.

This guy is the real deal. Sure he gets a tad animated sometimes but the fact remains. He is as solid and reliable as a (insert your favourite brand of half ton) truck.

The talk around the Bronx is that he'll join the rotation at some point, but from what I've seen from him this year, as well as in last year's playoffs, he might serve The Empire as being the successor to Rivera. (Who has just allowed the lead off batter to reach base in the ninth.)





"MAXIMUS!!!!"

Stop The Bleeding

Turned on the tube after a solid mountain bike session through Stanley Park, to see the typical shoestring score appear on the Sportsnet. Jays 1. Tribe 0.

Then, in what is becoming an all too disturbing trend as of late, the wheels shot right off the axles and into orbit. Rims and all. Which left the body of the big blue machine scraping to a halt into the asphalt. The whole damn thing just about burst into flames. Cleveland put up six runs in the seventh and with the game still on, it currently stands 6-1.

And I hate to say that I am not surprised in the least.

[Oh...and what's this I here Jamie Campbell announcing? Vernon Wells left the game after jamming his wrist into the field o' Jake? Swell. No pun intended]

Barring a miraculous comeback, this will drop the Jays 3 games below .500 and will keep them cozy in the AL East cellar. If I were JP Ricciardi, I would be searching every club, major and minor, high school, little league, you name it, in order to get this squad some cats who can swing some bats.

I recommend he venture to the small hamlet of Endeavour, Saskatchewan, located in a heavily wooded area of the province.The same locale where my bantam team got routinely crushed by an inhuman squad of 12 year olds that stood 6 foot plus and sported moustaches. And did nothing except fell jack pine to make their own bats which they would use to launch balls over the border into Manitoba.

Stellar Season For '08 Blades

Well the Oaktown lads met a very accomplished adversary in the Camrose Kodiaks as the Pacific reps in the tourney beat the Blades tonight 6-1. The game was tight going into the second as Oaktown scored an equalizer early in the period. However a short handed goal by the Kodiaks four minutes later opened the door to two more short handers and then an additional two regular strength goals.

Like the Loch Ness Monster, it was just one of those nasty periods that tends to come up for air on occasion, rearing its ugly head in big games. No matter. It's hockey. These things happen.

The loss eliminated the Blades from the playoff round and if there is any blame to throw around it can be directed to the RBC Cup tourney supervisors whose wacked out standings made it appear that Oakville had actually advanced. Take a look at this and this and tell me how Pictou County advances?

Technicalities and sketchy tie breaking scenarios aside, a continental sized congratulations to the Blades on their story book season and spirited competition on the national stage. Just getting to the RBC tourney is no small task and the OPJHL Champs and Dudley Hewitt Champs should be very proud of their season. As the contributers to this site definitely are.

Leafs, Schmeafs...The Blades rule in '08.

Blades Back On Board

A solid showing by the Oakville Blades today as they gritted out a do-or-die win today at the RBC Cup. The contest vs the Humboldt Broncos proved to be another one typical of the Oaktown squad as scoring came in scores for both sides. Jeremy Welsh notched a hat trick as the Blades came back from a 5-4 deficit in the third to eventually win 7-6.

The flurry of third period goals made the game resemble a homegrown Canadian snowstorm and Oaktown proved to on the side of Old Man Winter. A loss today would've almost spelled certain doom and elimination from the next round. Now the Blades are in the driver seat of their playoff destiny as they can move on to the next round by beating the number one ranked Camrose Kodiaks. Another Humboldt loss will put the Blades through as well.

Game 4 against Camrose goes tomorrow and for Oaktown to win, they're going to have to channel the spirit of The Russian Rocket, Pavel Bure. These Western Canadian teams love to crash and bang and while I don't doubt the resolve or toughness of Oakville, I believe that if the lads are to be successful they must stick to their up tempo, run and gun style of play. If they get goaded into playing the overly physical Western style of hockey, they are most likely going to run into penalty trouble. Which doesn't translate well into goal scoring.

Plus, trying to go toe to toe with cowboys who routinely kick the hell out of each other for kicks, means that injuries are certain to ensue. Which also doesn't fare well in the scoring department. Or the moving on in the tourney department.

The Blades must emulate the stately Czar, His Bure-ness, and employ a fast, smart, skilled style in order to snare these Kodiaks.





"Speed and smarts lads!!"

Oaktown Down But Not Out

Some pretty tight competition. Some pretty tight matches. This is what The Dangler and the Oakville Blades squad are facing at the 2008 RBC Cup in Cornwall, Ontario. After having won the OPJHL Championship and then the Dudley Hewitt Cup, the Blades have been jettisoned to the national stage and are in pursuit Canadian Junior A Hockey's ultimate prize.

It has been a tough go thus far as the lads have lost two squeakers in round robin play. Game 1 vs the host team, Cornwall Colts, proved to be a roller coaster ride at Canada's Wonderland as the two teams traded momentum as well as the lead multiple times, with the Colts edging the Blades 5-4.

Game 2 had shades of Don Cherry in '79 as the Blades got called for too many men on the ice in OT. The Pictou County Weeks Crushers, the Eastern reps in the tourney, managed to come back to from a one goal deficit to force the overtime period and eventually put the game away on the power play. 3-2 the final.

While only one out of the five competing teams will not enter into the elimination round, and the Blades currently occupy the last round robin spot, there are many positives to focus going into the last two preliminary games:

1. Oaktown showed up to play and competed hard in both games. Both matches were decided by a mere goal. That shakes down to one unlucky bounce per game. Seeing as how the hockey gods have had fun meddling in the affairs of men during the both the NHL regular season and playoffs, I surmise that they are now branching out to the junior leagues as well.

2. The lads are scoring. Seven lit lamps in two games. If they were not able to generate offence in this tourney, there would be cause for concern. Taylor Farris and Luke Moodie currently lead the squad with two each. The Dangler, never to be outdone, is responsible for one as well. Good show.

3. This has been the longest losing "streak" for the Blades all season at a mind numbing two. I fully suspect that the men are regrouping at command central and devising a formidable battle plan for tomorrow's match against the Humboldt Broncos. Do not be surprised if napalm falls from the rafters as the Blades storm the rink.

There is plenty of hockey to be played so do not expect these Blades to exit the town of Cornwall quietly.














...'Atta go lads! One shift at a time...One period at a time...

Ozzie And Co. Get The Broom

A four game sweep. Right after a monster losing streak. These '08 Jays are getting more entertaining by the day. Dustin McGowan out duelled Javy Vasquez while Matt Stairs cracked a solo shot which proved to be the only run of the game.

Chi Sox manager, the ever volatile Ozzie Guillen, lost his shit before the game and unleashed on the media when some wise ass reporter asked if any of the Chi Sox Triple A squad would be injected into the lineup. Unleashing a fury that could only be matched by Slayer pummeling a rabid Ozzfest crowd with "Reigining Blood," Guillen went on to lambaste everyone from the Chicago media, to the Cubs, to Cubs fans, to the entire city.

Maybe he should've included his entire squad,who has recently forgot how to hit a ball. And Nick Swisher who routinely makes the Chi Sox club house look like Night At The Roxbury. And A.J. Pierzynski just because he's there.

The Battle Begins...

And onto round three. Tom Morello, Zack and the boys better be writing furiously the soundtrack to the Conference Final, "The Battle Of Pennsylvania," as it is sure to be a doozy.

I can hear it on my iPod already...

Heavily fuzzed out riffs that sit like crushed velvet over pounding mid tempo grooves whilst lyrics of cracked Liberty Bells echo from Mellon Arena to the Wachovia Center. These tracks fire louder than revoloutionary cannons, burn hotter than molten metal and knock you out like you were hit with a Steeltown girder.

Make no mistake. The West is tough. But the East is back. We are about to witness the two squads carry the torch from two pantheon teams of yesterday. Pittsburgh, emulating the high flying Oilers of the '80's with more skill and talent than they know what to do with, will meet the 21st Century version of the 70's Broad Street Bullies. The modern day Flyers have done the unthinkable and managed to hit and scrap their way through two rounds of playoffs against teams that were heavily favoured to beat them.

Will the elite unit of Crosby, Malkin and Hossa be able to keep their heads and out play the blue collar brothers in arms of Briere, Umberger, and Richards?

Fire up the iTunes and set your playlists because I can hear the Rage strumming the first few bombastic chords in their sound check.

The Back End

How about the Bat Boy, Jesse Litsch, going perfect through 4 and finishing off with a very respectable 7 1/3 innings, 2 run on 5 hit performance? If this is the number five starter on the Jays rotation, then the squad is in very, very good shape.

For the second straight day, the back end has bolted down big wins against the Chi Sox, Shaun Marcum breaking out the power tools yesterday. This is the kind of effort that Championship teams get regularly out of the entirety of their staff. I have not seen Jays pitching this dominant since the late '80's when the likes of Dave Steib, Jimmy Key and The Terminator ushered in the Skydome/World Series era.

If the Jays want to repeat the successes of the early '90's, it will be up to the front office. Back then, GM Pat Gillick pulled the trigger and acquired the likes of Dave Winfield and Paul Molitor for the post season push. We all know how those guys did.

Ricciardi is going to have to watch a lot of World Series of Poker if he is going to be able to muster up a blockbuster in order bring some heavy weight bats to compliment his elite staff.

Give The Kid A Break

Can we stop talking about Pittsburgh like they're polishing their pitching wedges?

They lost one game. One.

Yes, it was an ugly match and yes there was a third period meltdown involving Crosby and Malkin but I have never seen the pundits so eager to pounce and write a squad off. Sure the veteran Rangers, led by Jagr and Shanahan, answered the bell by coming up with a clutch win at the Garden, but does this mean that the youthful hotheadedness of the the Penguins Captain and his compadre spell the squad's demise?

In two playoff rounds and after winning seven in a row, the Penguins lost one game. Sounds acceptable to me, but watching Hughson's sidekick last night on Hockey Night In Canada you'd have thought that Crosby had showed up high as a kite, late for practice and then went all Quebec Rempart on the Rangers.

Let's give The Kid a break. He's allowed to take a dumb-dumb penalty late in the game and so is Malkin. If they want to try and spark their squad with some overly physical play ala Jarome Iginla, fine. They'll learn quickly that they are indeed not Jarome Iginla, and go back to what they do best. Namely scoring ultra teched out goals at high speed.

For every NY sympathizer out there, please save your biases for the Yankees. At least there it is expected that the media will automatically defer to the pin striped ones. Hate to break it to Sportsnet, ESPN, TSN and every other sports outlet. The Rangers got lucky. Just because they were physical for one game and threw off Crosby and Co, don't expect it to work again in Game 5. Instead, expect the Pens to finish off the Rangers with the cold precision of the T-1000 from the Terminator franchise.

Please.

Flip That Fucking Calendar

About time the lads caught a break, notching up only their second W in ten tries. Yikes. And for a second at the end it looked like the Baseball Gods were going to something that I've never seen before. Actually keep a game going after it has seemingly finished. As Coco Crisp popped out in the ninth, and both teams trotted off the field, the second base ump called a balk on BJ Ryan, giving Crisp another kick at the can.

My stomach acids reached Miguel Batista PH levels as the flustered Ryan allowed Crisp to reach base with a single. With a runner already on accompanying Crisp, and the potential tying run stepping up to the plate in no name Jed Lowrie (tell me this isn't the name of a guy that would fluke into singling in the winning run in the WS and then never be heard of again...) I was almost ready to write off May in addition to April.

Luckily though, the man named Jed struck out on a fastball thrown so hard that I thought it would surely knock catcher Rod Barajas into an alternate reality and the win was preserved.

Whew.

All is not well in Skydome land and there is much ado about no hitting. After watching the offensively challenged Canucks all season, I cannot bear the thought of witnessing another month of sparse scoring. Never mind five. My sports viewing over the last seven months has been akin to that of watching a once uber hot Hollywood starlets gradually waste away on the red carpet in an anorexic vacuum. My plea to the Jays front office. Do not become the Lindsay Lohan of the bigs.

At least the pitching isn't sticking two fingers down its mouth and puking up breakfast croissants. AJ kept the grill hot and slapped on some Fred Flintstone sized steaks by pitching eight strong, allowing only three hits. To paraphrase the former PM, "That's putting some pepper on your plate."

The Jays now limp home to face everyone's favourite gawdiest team, The Chi Sox, before squaring off against the Division leading Tampa Bay Rays???!!!

Maybe Barajas didn't get a glimpse into the alternate universe tonight. Maybe we're all actually living in it.