The Recovery

Ok, after the events of last night, as I lay in the HQ infirmary trying to drain my lungs, I've passed the time surfing the interweb and have found that Canucks/Hawks line brawl. Holy old time. Extra kudos to the United Center for blasting "Sunday Bloody Sunday" over the p.a.

Maniwaki Mobile - Live From The Superdome

...or should I say the background performer's tent situated in not so
sunny downtown Vancouver.The torrential hurricane that has descended
on the city has not made the simulated outdoor New York gala seem
believable in the slightest as 150 drenched extras are not conducive
to establishing a believable shot. As we are experiencing Hurricane
Katrina levels of weather conditions and the ensuing FEMA response i
an sending an SOS to Kanye West as Hollywood don't case about extras.
I am on hour number 18. I am dressed as the fire chief of New York
City. I an soaked to my femure and Freddie Prinze Jr. is dressed in a
super hero get up complete with molded abs. I wish this was just the
delerium speaking...

He Pulls A Knife, You Pull A Gun...

...was definitely the way in Chicago this afternoon as the Blackhawks played Al Capone to the Canucks Elliot Ness. I tuned in to the aftermath of what seemed to be an intense, old time hockey donnybrook as officials were picking up many pieces of discarded gear off of the ice.

The replay showed Bieksa and Eager in the midst of a very '70's style brouhaha as the Sportsnet announcers declared that both teams were trying to send a message should they meet in the playoffs. The Canucks on the score board and the Hawks responding with some bare knuckles and the ol' fighting spirit.

Then this just came across the screen:

Line Brawl Sets Tone For Third. the line 83 penalty minutes handed out to both teams.

Wow. Got to youtube that one later.

And why was I not watching this game you ask? Two reasons. First, I thought the game was on later, like 6 Pacific. Second, I was caught up in the ridiculous display that is the Juno Awards. As the event is being hosted in the home town this year, I figured I should tune in for a tad.

Kicking off the broadcast was Chantal Krevaziuk on the red carpet with an entourage of Winnipeg gals who had won a Garnier Nutrisse contest to attend the awards fest out west. In addition to flanking Kreviazuk they also were awarded the distinct honor of taking part in the red carpet interview with Ben Mulroney. Now that's some serious shampoo.

And just as things were getting ugly at the United Center, they also followed suit back home as Nickleback took the stage to a screaming, packed GM Place to start the show, complete with trademark cock rock riffing and posturing as well the obligatory Vedder-esque droning.

Too bad Bieksa and the boys weren't on home ice as there was definitely a need for some house cleaning.

Kompai!

Was at a Japanese an awesome wedding tonight. Here's some awesome Japanese snowboarding.

Personality Disorders

So apparently if you're in the NHL and are not inclined to give the same stock answer laced with the usual trite anecdotes concerning "character in the dressing room" and the ever elusive, "lucky bounce," then you are some gawdy circus showman who needs to be purged from the game immediately, in some cases shunned by your own team. Just ask:

Sean Avery. While I personally didn't find his antics humourous, or even effective from a purely tactical sense, I didn't think he was as big a nightmare as he was made out to be.

In fact the most deplorable of actions concerning him were not made by him, but by his former Texan team, who publicly threw him under the covered wagon and left him to rot out in the desert, handing him a six game suspension and eventually crossing him off of their roster.

And how about the League? Forced counselling for "anger management" issues? Bettman seemed more inclined to "modify" Avery's personality than he seemed to do anything to anything about real threats like hits from behind. Now that Sean Avery is back in the league he appears more like Malcolm McDowell in A Clock Work Orange, after returning from his film session in the clink.

If even the Spouse (a 'Hills' aficionado who hates sports) thinks all of this is excessive, then you know it is.

Alexander Ovechkin. Except for this one, I love Alex's antics. The self inflicted crashes into the boards, the lunatic goals, the wild celebrations. All with a missing-a-tooth smiling hockey player's mug, Ovechkin brings real excitement to the game. And he does it without dropping his mits, so take that Don. The fact that his hot stick celebration is still being debated is beyond absurd, as his coach Bruce Boudreau aptly put to the media yesterday in statesmen's language only fit for the capital.

CC, I Fear For Thee

Not even one pitch thrown during the MLB 09 season (Don't worry, I haven't forgotten. This year's preview will begin soon.) and the Yanks have already thrown a saddle and four heavy bags of gear on CC Sabathia. The free agent thoroughbred was the prized addition to the Yankees stable in the off season, but early analysis from HQ suggests that the Sons Of The Boss have only set him up for a very nasty spill around the bend.

Consider. In a typical blustering, reactionary Yanks front office move, Hank Steinbrenner (choked that his squad didn't make the playoffs for the first time in 15 years) went out and made the biggest splash over the winter, inking Sabathia to a 7 year 160 million dollar deal. Which is fine and all during the press conference where you don the hat and jersey and smile for the press, but maybe not so much three years down the road when you've finished the 2011 campaign going a respectable 11-8 and the same press are ready to swarm you like pirahnas on a gazelle that's fallen into the Amazon.

Never mind if you get injured or really lose your stuff.

Now, I know what you're saying. The Yankees also went out and signed AJ Burnett and can boast Chien-Ming Wang as their number three starter. But let's be frank. AJ is doomed as last year [cough... contract year... coughs] he did pitched brilliantly, but won't have Roy Halladay in front of him this year. Wang, while a national hero in Taiwan, may not prove to be the People's Champ in the Bronx if he hits the DL again.

CC having to shoulder much of the success of the Yanks is a real possibility, and one that the organization is already encumbering him with. As he the rotation sched has been adjusted so that CC will start both the Yanks season on the road, as well as chucking the first pitch over the plate at the new billion dollar Bronx Palace, the new Yankee Stadium. 

He better hope that he pitches a strike. And then follow it up without 40 000 more. 

Ladies And Gentlemen, Daniel Sedin...

...playing crash and bang Game 7 hockey in the stretch. I don't want ANYONE in the lower mainland to ever question the Sedin's grit ever again. For years the bros have come under fire for not being tough enough, not showing enough leadership worthy to build a team around and not being able to deliver in the clutch.

They absorb many of the point shots that are aimed at many Europeans around the league, which unfairly brand them as not being Canadian enough. That they don't go out and wrestle timber wolves in Squamish on their days off or something. Like Kyle Wellwood.

The facts are these. The brothers Sedin have consistently put up over 70 points each for the past four seasons and can play as hard as logging camp axeman from 100 Mile House. Hell, this brutal shift where Dan takes a blade in the face, spits out blood, AND a tooth, only to stay on the ice to contribute to the power play goal, definitely earns him a spot on fellow countrymen Raised Fist's roster.

Actually..... upon further review this case appears worthy of something more extreme. Like it merits a knock at the castle door, of Swedish Black Metal masters, Lord Belial.

Maniwaki Mobile - Live From The WBC Final

[In which one of my musical compadres, Matt, has taken up residence in Los Angeles for a month to promote his group's recent works, and happens across tickets to the final game of the World Baseball Classic, a truly memorable contest..]


Allow me to set the scene:

My buddy here in LA calls me last night and asks if I want to go to the final game of the 2009 World Baseball Classic at Dodgers Stadium tonight. Korea versus the winner of Japan/USA. Japan wins last night sending them to the final. We figure Japan vs Korea isn't going to be the most exciting nor the most popular event in town on a warm Monday evening in The City of Angels, but a bad night at Dodger's Stadium is better than most nights anywhere else. The lady, my buddy and I hit the freeway.

We roll up to a packed Dodgers Stadium' parking lot. Walk into the stadium. My first big league park. Just like I've heard about in the movies. The smell of the grass, the sound of the stadium, the grass far greener than I expected. If I was 12, my life would have changed forever. At 28, it was just an unforgettable moment.

Lazy monday night at the ball park? Wrong!! The place is packed to the rafters and people are going crazy. Apparently the Asian papers are billing it as "The Biggest Game of the Century!!" Crazy rivalry between the two countries that they expect will never happen again. Huge Korean flags going up and down the sections. We are in Left Field. The energy in that place was that of a rock concert. Chanting, cheering, waving flags and inflatable sticks and fingers - Non stop!

Close game, right to the end. Japan has a small lead for most of the game, increasing it to 2 runs in the top of the 9th. Korea is up last and Japan brings in their secret weapon relief pitcher and he walks the first two batters. He manages to pull it together, but too little too late. Korea pulls out the big guns and TIES THE GAME with 2 outs in the bottom of the bloody 9th!!!! The place loses it's collective shit. Absolutely insane. We're going to extra innings. I'm smiling ear to ear and the lady is loving it beside me.

Japan takes the lead in the top of the 10th. 2 runs. Crazy Japanese guy one section over makes a victory lap with the home run ball he caught. Never seen a middle aged Japanese man so happy. Korea is up. They get two runners on base. Two outs. Two runs down. Japan's pitcher, who nearly lost them the game last inning pulls off the strike out of his life. Flash bulbs everywhere. Cue cheesy Japanese victory music. I am spent.

Hail To The C

I usually don't have a hard time firing these posts off, as rarely does writer's block ever sneak onto the Maniwaki set. But today I'm having a tough time coming up with a fitting openers, something to do the occasion justice. So I guess I'll just have to come right out and spell it out as simply as I can.

Curt retired today. And I gotta say thanks.

One of the truest Titans ever to pick up the old horsehide and hurl it over the plate, Curt Schilling was the definition of a warrior as well as a leader on the hill. His focus and preparation were unparalleled in The Game, and as a result his contribution to it will stand as one of the most storied of legacies.

I think Joe Buck put it the best when he was calling the Bloody Sock Game from the '04 ALCS, when he alluded to the fact that Schilling's pitching performance that night will be remembered and retold in New England lore for ages to come.

Yup. Lore indeed. Because the term itself transcends one's accomplishments from a mere reference on Best Damn's Top 50 Greatest Plays and even elevates them from a corner in Cooperstown. "Lore" implies feats worthy of legend, and if anyone's feats have been legendary in the modern game, Curt's most definitely have.

Let's take a look back. Here are some Maniwaki memories of his career:

1993 World Series. The first I ever heard of Schilling was back in the '93 World Series where he was the ace on the Phillies. Although he lost Game 1, he came back and devastated the Jays lineup in Game 5.  I don't remember the play by play or even the score of the game, I do remember being absolutely terrified of this guy as he sat down the likes of Olerud, Molitor and Carter. I definitely did not want to see him again at any point in the Series. Anywhere. Like even in the Phills dugout. Looking back at the box score, Curt pitched a complete game shutout to stave off elimination. One day after the Jays put up 15 runs to the Phills 14, in the highest scoring game ever in World Series history.

2001 World Series. I was sooo sick of the Yanks. All they did was win.  Series after Series after Series after Series. Four in five years to be exact. They were unbeatable. They had boatloads of cash. Nobody could knock them off their pins striped pedestal. Especially at the end. They swept San Diego in '98 then Atlanta in '99. And in total, over the course of their run, they only lost two World Series Games. So you can imagine how jacked up I was to see the upstart Diamondbacks take them to Game 7 in the '01 Classic. It was a tense one as Schilling spun up stellar Game 7, holding the Yanks to just two runs. Then, the rest unfolded; the Big Unit came on in relief, Mariano uncharacteristically unravelled, and the big bad Yanks were finally vanquished.  I started a mosh pit in my buddy Mike's living room.

2003 Off Season. Although the Jays are my squad, I rediscovered my Red Sox Nation card during the Ocotober of '03. As did the Skip, as from various Montreal tellys we watched a bunch of shaved headed buffoons storm passed the A's and into the ALCS. After the inevitable Game 7 heartbreak, Red Sox GM, Theo Epstein, decided he needed to go make a pitch for someone who could stand up to these this squad that has been a thorn in the Green Monster's side for close to a century. And after making an offer to Curt in the off season, it was announced that Schilling would suit up for the Sox in '04. I was very pleased by this news. Why? Because it gave me hope for the AL East. And for baseball. And for justice. 

2004 Pre ALCS. And guess who are contestants are? Curt makes a big splash in the media by saying he can't wait to pitch in the series to make, "a million New Yorkers shut up." Once again I was very pleased with this. Remember. This was before the tides had turned. The Red Sox had not won a World Series in 86 years, and the Yanks (although having floundered in the playoffs since '01) were still the Yanks. Schilling proceeded to get absolutely shelled in his outing and the punditition nation pounced. I didn't care and stood by him and the squad anyway.

2004 ALCS Game 6. The Bloody Sock Game. After being treated to some of the greatest baseball of my entire life, the Skip and I, again in Montreal rooted for the cause of righteousness alongside a our growing posse at Le Pistol. We all watched in disbelief as Schill took the hill with a blown ankle that was literally stapled together only hours before the game, and mowed down Yank after Yank, blood seeping through the sutures, staining his sock. Like Joe Buck alluded to. We were watching a modern day legend unfold, as this literal Red Sock spun an absolute masterpiece. 

Random anklenotes. 

The Action Figure. The day after the Bloody Sock game, my compadre Dice C and I stumbled into a Montreal comic shop, which happened to have a McFarlane issue Curt Schilling action figure. Which of course I had to purchase. Believing this baseball totem to bring good luck, The Skip and I trade off hosting duties every few years when the time makes itself be known. It currently sits on a red cabinet in my living room.

"I hate Toronto." Told to a Canadian reporter, while partying in the clubhouse after winning the 04 World Series. The reporter, stunned, quickly asked him to qualify his comments so not offend Canada, which Schilling did. But he didn't have to at all. I'm a Jays fan. I laughed at it.

"A-Rod is bush league." Can't remember what context this quote was quipped, but of course I concurred. That's the thing with Schilling. Unlike many athletes he isn't afraid to get some stuff of his chest, and not come across like an moron. He frequently called into Boston talk radio if he felt that BoSox lads weren't getting a fair shake, and he frequently posted on Red Sox nation HQ, Sons Of Sam Horn. Hell, he's even got his own blog.

Schilling is Bush league. Ok maybe not, but although he's a staunch Republican, even publicly supporting Bush in the 04 election, I can't hold his politics against him. I just can't. Even though I'm a hardcore lefty who grew up on incendiary, '80's hardcore. What he's done on the diamond has eclipsed more than anyone in Washington has done to promote bipartisanship as the characteristics and qualities he's espoused during the course of his career are outside of the political diamond. Hard work. Boldness. Preparation. Leadership. Heart. These qualities are more universal than that picture company. Maybe the next hill he should step on should be Capitol Hill.

"I won't go to New York." Over the past few off seasons there was speculation as to if Curt would re-sign with Boston, as injury had him sidelined frequently. The snippets that you would hear on the inter-media-web always confirmed the same thing. He wouldn't consider signing with New York. Now that is a true ball player. As Johnny Damon cut off his hair and trotted off to the Yanks, after being a part of the legendary Idiots that sent them packing in 04  (thus drawing the ire of the Nation and anyone who remotely followed baseball) Schilling made it clear that he would never pitch in pinstripes go no matter what the pay cheque. Because unlike many players in pro sports, he knows that the game is bigger than just a fat contract. He understands what The Game means. In the long run. 

Today. An Exemplary Exit.  Leaving during one of the worst eras in modern baseball, all  without the slightest hint or whisper of any syringes or steroid slip ups. How about that for making an statement while walking off the hill? The final line:

Four World Series appearances, three rings, 216 Wins, 3116 Strike outs, and a 3.46 Earned Run Average.

And an unprecedented amount of respect earned.

Thank for an inspiring and epic career, Curt. You did The Game right.

[tips hat]

Habitant Pea Soup

A questionable coaching change. Winless in their last five games. Last night's contest, a 5-2 loss to the Leafs resulting in getting booed off the Bell Centre ice. Continued play off contention now hinging on the Panthers outcome tomorrow night. Wow. What can you say? What can anyone say? I was about to weigh in on the situation in Montreal, but what else needs to be said when this guy is patrolling the stands of the Bell Centre?

A Roaring Success Of A Season

Ok so the RIT Tigers lost to Mercyhurst in the Atlantic Div semis last night, in a game that could've been penned by AC/DC for "The Razor's Edge" album. Although it was tough one for the lads, wrapping up their season, there are a lot of positives to be had. Take a knee on the Maniwaki rink and let the coach speak please.

1. The Tigers scored with the extra attacker to tie it with less than a minute to go in the third. Now that's play off hockey.

2. They finish their season with a new club record of 23 W's since joining Div 1 a few years ago. Now that's good hockey.

3. They made a compelling campaign, going deep into the playoffs, to the Div Championship Tourney. Now that's engaging hockey. Got me hooked on the NCAA League. I'm going to campaign the NHL Network to start showing Atlantic games next year, instead just focusing on every game being played in Mass.

Hey, these one game playoffs can be a real roller coaster. Just ask the Team Canada Ball team. To lose in OT, basically just comes down to one unlucky bounce and will only serve to be a character builder for next year. I know I'll be watching.

Never Mind Ovechkin...

...here's President Obama.

Oh my god, you'd think that every US media outlet was staffed by the NHL old guard, as everyone's kicking up a fuss over the "Special Olympics" remark on Leno last night.

Here's the way I see it. Obama was kicking back on Leno's couch and came across as pretty comfortable. So much so, that you could have handed him a joint and an X-Box controller and it wouldn't have changed his demeanor at all. Maybe the President forgot for a second that he was on the other side of the TV screen, and not in the White House rumpus room after a long day and made an off hand comment which came back to bite him.

So what.

Bush made at least ten asinine remarks daily. And most certainly never went on late night TV to publicly condemn Wall St, make an appeal for an electric car, and implore the youth of America to become scientists instead of investment bankers.  All in one sitting. I mean, I thought I was watching Chuck D for a second. Any great MC is sure to drop a few lines that are going to cause a ruckus... 

Alexander The Third

Look, Don chill out. While Ovechkin's antics have occasionally bordered on the absurd, let's just let him do his thing. Which is score ridiculous goals and then party like he's in Cancun on spring break, wearing a toga and probably doing some body shot off some girl from Raleigh that he'll never see again. This goal to become the Caps only player to record 50 goals in three consecutive seasons definitely gets him passed the line up into Señor Frogs.

Everyone can't be Bobby Orr.

Post Patty's Polaroids

Surprisingly kept the ship together last night, as SS Maniwaki didn't come apart on the rocks. While I went to the same venue as last year, the outcome was far less drastic. So seeing as my frontal lobes have not sustained as much damage as in St. Patty's past, it's time to recall and weigh in some recent events.

Today. We're getting a real soccer team, as the Whitecaps will now be playing in the North American Premiership, or Major League Soccer. Am I doing backflips? Not exactly, as I'm not the biggest soccer fan. Am I happy that there's finally another pro sport in town? How about spinning Shaun White sized 900's. Steve Nash as a part owner? Good for futbol! Let's also just hope Becks is still around in 2011 so I can go down to BC Place and taunt him as if he were wearing Yankee pinstripes.

Last Night. A packed three story Irish tavern full of langers all banjaxed up over the Canucks was pretty loopers as the lads lamped the Stars 4-2. Whilst I am knocking heavily on the oak bar, I cannot help but see similarities in the city to T.O. in the late '80's and early '90's, or dare I say, Boston in '04. Canuck fans, like the players, are taking only looking one game into the future. This is good. Ok, I'm knocking so hard, my knuckles are starting to look as bloody and gnarled as UFC alumni Frank Shamrock's.

Earlier Last Night. TSN, or the "Toronto Sports Network" as my compadre aptly commented on last night was in the cross hairs, as everyone at the pub and in the entire lower mainland had to wait until two NHL powerhouses, the Lightning and Leafs, were finished their scrum in what felt like 26 rounds of the shootout. When this pivotal game to determine Eastern basement seeding was finally finished, the feed finally switched and we were greeted with ol' Danny Boy doing a celebratory lap past the Canucks bench after scoring the first goal of the game. Is it possible the league would relocate the Leafs?

Even Earlier Last Night. Team US comes back in the bottom of the ninth to stave off elimination and send Puerto Rico back to their orbit as a satellite state. David Wright knocked one into his namesake to send the squad to the semi finals. I can only hope Frederich Cepeda does the same for Team Cuba tonight against Japan. You do not know how much I want to see a Cuba/US final. Really. You just don't.

Late Yesterday Evening. St. Martin's Day. Yeah, I said it. So what if everyone else is as well? If the blocker fits... Good for Martin Brodeur to pass St. Patty on St. Patty's to notch up the most wins of all time on his Sherwood. 

Last Sunday. The mighty RIT Tigers crossed off Holy Cross from the NCAA Atlantic Division playoff picture. Over the weekend tourney, the Dangler contributed to the cause garnering two goals. Good luck to the lads in the semis this Friday. Show no mercy against Mercyhurst.

Trifuckta

Oh fuck off already...

Fucking can it already.

And no, he absolutely, most positively definitely fucking should not...

I'm never going to SI.com again.

Separation Of Baseball And Politics

See! Communism and extreme leftist sentiment only make international sporting comps more fun! I've got the WBC on right now, and the ESPN announcers are explaining a bizarre situation, which involves Magglio Ordonez routinely getting booed by his own Venezuelan fans.

This is the first I've heard of it, but apparently Maggs is a huge supporter of Venezuelan Presidente, Hugo Chávez, and many of the Venezuelan fans aren't digging it. Taking the mike from an ailing Castro, Chávez has become the contemporary voice of Latin American Socialism, as well as the region's newest, baddest bogey man. From calling for coca leaf farming (yay yo!), to threatening the US with an oil embargo and a proposed Latin American alliance (uh oh!), to calling Dubya "the devil" (ho ho!), this Presidente has shown that his international MC skills are sharp enough to drop his Marxist science in any sphere. From the streets of Caracas to the Halls of the UN.

Whilst my punk rock leanings command a certain admiration for Chavez' rage against the North American oil elite, as well as for the 'terror' he inspires across corporate boardrooms, I have it make it clear that these are not the reasons as to why I'm telling the Venezuelans to chill out. Yes, their cheers for Ordonez to strike out do make for a very entertaining spectacle, but are the political allegiances of players be the ultimate determining factor as to worthiness of one's fandom?

Let's just put it like this:

Curt Schilling is one of the most right wing, God fearing, Bush supporting, desert storming Republicans on the planet. He pitched against the Jays in the '93 World Series, and even stated that he "hates Toronto," as the Series champagne sprayed across the 04 Red Sox dressing room. This is a guy who pitched the bloody sock game in addition to many subsequent post season gems. If you've read this site, you know that he's definitely getting a plaque placed in the Maniwaki Halls. Call it the spirit of bipartisanship, or call it whatever you want, but who Curt votes for doesn't change my opinion of his character or ability as a player one damn bit.

Cirque De Brier

[In which Gagne - a superb curler in his own right, who a few years ago threw an incredible double take out to vault the Skip's rink to victory at the aforementioned sponsor's 30th Birthday Bonspiel - weighs in on Canada's other national winter pass time...]

good day from western canada. having moved to the interior of la colombie britannique i feel like i am no longer of the 'pacific' or the 'west coast'. and since it is still winter here, hockey playoffs, golf, and baseball will just had to wait a little while longer. on this saint patrick's day weekend i would like to share a story.

exactly one year ago, i woke up on a sunday morning with a raging hangover that was no doubt caused by the st patty's day kegger i had attended the previous day. wow i feel terrible i said to myself. the phone rings. i don't answer. i listen to the message. it's a friend reminding me to get my ass out of bed and to head to the pre-st patty's day parade party. "well drinking will surely make me feel better," a little voice said to me. step one - gatorade. step two - go time. at the time i was in the lovely 'la ville de montreal' and boy did they ever have a good parade. shutting down rue st catherine and drinking on the street ... i was a happy camper. towards the end of the day after the parade and spending a couple hours dancing the irish jig i grabbed my roommate and told him that we had better go home because the finals of the brier were on, he agreed. we had been watching all week. i quietly told a couple other lads that we were heading back to our apartment (also known as genesis, like the band) to watch the Brier. they were in. little did we know all of our friends were bonspiel enthusiasts. good for us. next thing i know close to 20 people were at genesis, 40's of the finest Labatt Bleu in hand, to watch the Brier. The girls that tagged along assumed we were joking that we were having an afterparty to watch curling and they were not impressed when we all paid them zero attention and focused out undivided drunk stares at the skips of team ontario and alberta curl stones in ways that we didn't think were possible. alberta went on to win the coveted Tim Horton's Brier and we were there. did i pass out on the bean bag chair that night? sure did. did i skip my 500 level financial derivatives class the next morning? you betcha.

for those of you that haven't been watching, kevin martin (skip of alberta)'s squad hasn't lost a game since. they haven't lost a game in competition at the Brier in over 20 games! every year the champion team from each province plays each other in the national competition and the winner goes to the world championships. the winner of this year will be going to the olympics. this year, the games between the top teams have been tighter than ever. games have been decided in the last end by the last rock on countless occasions throughout the week, and it's been wild. yes i said it, curling has been wild. but get this, teams ontario, newfoundland and labrador, and alberta have all won world championships within the last decade, sometimes more than once. what other sport do you get world contending teams playing each other down to the wire in every game. in a huge upset last night, manitoba beat team ontario for a spot in the finals against alberta. i was hoping to see a repeat of last year but alas, it can't be so. however this afternoon i will certainly be watching the finals. it may not be the same party it was last night, but nevertheless ... good for curling.

Way To Go Marty

For tying St Patty at 551 career wins in La Ligue nationale de hockey. And putting up the historic double-vay up at home in Montreal in front of standing, screaming Bell Centre crowd. Bon travail, Mr. Brodeur.

Ladies And Gentlemen, Henrik Sedin...

How about that? After giving up a two goal lead (in true Canucks fashion) by letting in two in a matter of seconds in the third it seemed like our fate could conceivably get on the entrance ramp to the same highway as last March. Waiting for the other blade to drop, along with the rest of the lower mainland, I couldn't believe it as Hank scored two decisive goals in 30 seconds to put us up 4-2 and give us the win.

Not quite Dave Roberts stealing second in '04, but Hank's double barrelled blast definitely gave the GM place faithful a similar boost in the bleachers, quelling the fears of those in attendance that the roof was schedualed for yet another collapse.

Viva Cuba

I want every sports fan in the world so stand up and thank their lucky Habanos for communist nations being competitive in international sport. That's right, akin to former USSR hockey squads of Canada Cups past, Team Cuba is slowly dismantling the opposition at the WBC, thus providing a further thorn in the side of everyone else.

Practically annexing neighbour Mexico tonight by forcing a 16-4 submission in the 7th, and even applying the dreaded mercy rule choke hold, Cuba became the undisputed champs of Pool B. They join Puerto Rico as the two only undefeated teams in the tourney so far.

Since Canada is out, I am forced to throw my lot in behind the Cubans as there is something just right about a politically isolated nation that sits on the doorstep of America, that boasts the same pride (if not more) concerning the same national pass time.

Viva la revolución. May the bombs rocket over the Petco fences.

The Upset Classic

Ok, so we got bumped out of the WBC by Italy, which was embarrassing enough, but what about the Dominicans?

This baseball superpower fulfilled their loss quota, losing for the second time and joining us back at our respective spring training camps scratching our heads. And who can Papi thank for sending him packing back to BoSoxville early? The Netherlands.

Hetgeen?

How these upstarts managed to defeat the mighty DR not once but twice in a week, is deserving of a plaque in Cooperstown. No joke. I can't believe that I'm actually typing this but apparently Robert Eenhoorn and Rick VandenHurk are advancing to the next round whilst Papi and Hanley Ramirez aren't.

If that's not enough, I was just strolling down the street and spied another game playing on a tavern telly. Australia and Mexico in an elimination match? Australia? Is this the Twilight Zone? Is Rod Serling the Commissioner of International Baseball?

Maybe the Jays should give up on the Pacific Rim, and the land of Mt Fuji sized transfer payments and hop over the other pond to Europe to check out the Corendon Kinheim and Montepaschi Grosseto squads.

Should One Watch The Watchmen?

Ok, so I just got back from the big show, and while I didn't hate the film, the official line coming out of Maniwaki HQ is this:

Stick with the book.

While the experience of being a background paparazzo on the set of classic comic book story was an incredible, once in a lifetime event (akin to being a Habs fan and being able to have stepped on the ice at the old Forum to play a game of shinny) the best memories surrounding the venture will remain on the ice.

The story is just too rich to be condensed into a two hour film, and at times, some of the acting is suspect. It's not a terrible film. Don't get me wrong. It just didn't disintegrate my intrinsic field and recombine my atoms like I thought it would. My long time compadre in these matters, Dice C, also concurred. Before the curtain went up, you could've given us each a pint of Ritalin and we would have no hope of chilling out. But once the reality set in as to how this version of the story was going to play out, our shared risk of sudden heart attack subsided.

Here's the scoop. If you really want to enjoy Watchmen in all of its compelling complexity, do what I did over the past few nights. Find a proper reading nook, something hopefully with a city view if you can swing it. Wait until it gets pitch black. Crack open your copy (if you have access to the original single issues from '86 then by all means, break'em out of their boarded bags) and let the masters, Moore and Gibbons, take you panel for panel through one of the most gripping stories ever to be printed on comic book pages.

Hurrrmmm....

Ughh Canada

A few years ago, the whole fam jetted over to Europe, hopped in a van and drove around the Italian countryside. Winding our way down the hillside from which the Principality of San Marino is perched, we passed a North American baseball diamond, complete lit up with stadium issue hardware.

Me: You see that?

The Skip: Yup.

Me: I wonder who plays baseball in Italy?

The Skip: I guess someone...

Well, I guess someone indeed. If Saturday was like October '93 at the Skydome, then today is like Olympic Stadium in '04. Not. Good. For. Baseball. Without pouring a dump truck load of salt on a wound which is gushing profusely, let's just give a brief synopsis of the game that just ended.

Italy: 6 Canada: 2

Resulting in our exit from the '09 WBC Tourney which is being hosted in our backyard. As our Major League lineup and minor league rotation got bounced by an Italian team who for the most part hold regular jobs and get their innings by playing double headers on the weekends.

You can imagine the reaction from HQ as Sportsnet announcer, Jamie Campbell, let that tidbit out onto the airwaves.

Chris Defornia led the charge for Team Italia, going what seemed like 5 for 4 while making a stunning scoop in centre in the international upset. This is a guy that has a career 96 Big League at bats. Over three seasons.To make matters worse, the camera routinely panned over to a contemplative Mike Piazza in the Italian dugout, anticipating the game's outcome. At least he didn't have his blond highlights. That's it. That's the only positive to draw from this utterly horribly, horrible, putrid game.

What would happen if I went down to some local pitch on Saturday and rounded up a few rec league soccer players? And for good measure, then maybe I'd hop over to Etobicoke, Brampton and Longueuil to grab a few more. Then we all tootled over to Milan, set up shop in Stadio Giuseppe Meazza, and upset Totti and company in an international friendly?

What would happen is that the upheaval of such an event would sever the country from the rest of the continent and it would either drift off to sea or sink.

And maybe that is what happened as if the country of Canada has just been hoofed once hard by the boot itself.

POLAR OPPOSITES

Greetings from the great white north.

To our American friends, yes that’s where you’ve always thought we’ve been. Doesn’t matter whether I’m at home resting in the Sugar Shack or off gallivanting around Inuvik, right? I mean, after all, what’re a few degrees latitude between neighbors?

To our beaver-loving compatriots, I mean north. North as in I spilled coffee on my pants this afternoon and it turned into caffeinated icicles within a minute. North as in our helicopter pilot refused to take us out today because he was scared to turn off the engines. North as in, yes, he turned the engines off two days ago when we were out on the land and didn’t manage to start it again. Friggin’ north.

The polar landscape that has surrounded me for the past week has given me pause for reflection. Not just on the finer points of life, nor simply on the conveniences we take all too for granted in the south. No, rather I sit comfortably in our temporary abode and contemplate the reality that is this.

After the next 2:13 of playing time elapses, the Vancouver Canucks will officially have more points in the standings than the Montreal Canadiens.

When the Christmas stakes were laid down, I never considered this to be a possibility. Not this year. For the love of god, Les Boys were 12 points up with two games at hand. And rolling.

On the other side of the coin, Bobby Lu was down and out, the defense was as porous as a rotten snow pack, and the ‘gunners’ up front inspired as much fear in their opponents as a muskrat scampering blindly around the tundra.

Needless to say, things have since changed. The Orca-nucks have now won 12 of their last 14 while Carey "the-Price-is-wrong-bitch" hasn’t won a start in his last seven and Jaro Halak appears to have caught the same flu that's been making its way around the Western Arctic of late. Nay good.

Lord knows things had better right themselves in the universe. And soon. I seriously don’t feel like shelling out for a Hotel Van-Van brunch.

Though I will be fine eating the local smoked salmon...

… I will not be fine eating my words.

- The Skip

National Pride

I know this is only the second tourney ever, but talk about another World Baseball Classic...

What a match. Just stunning. Detractors be damned, I am locked into this comp, as Canada and the US put on an epic display of international baseball today at a packed Skydome. Although we lost 6-5, the game was definitely as thrilling as the last one, and once again, the under dog Canadian team gave the US a run for its greenbacks.

The big question for Team Canada was the pitching, with a rotation of primarily minor leaguers and ex-big leaguers. Mike Johnson (ex-Spo who's been out of MLB for two years playing in Korea) started and went three strong before getting into trouble in the fourth, giving up a few Yank jacks. While I'm sure he wants a few of those pitches back, he held the line and kept the game competitive. And outlasted 2007 Cy Young winner, Jake Peavy, who got the hook in the third.

Then there were the two bases loaded jams Team Canada pitched out of. One with no outs. Seattle prospect , Phillippe Aumont, got in some serious juice and then took down David Wright, Kevin Youkilis, and Curtis Granderson in order. It was so tense it felt like October '92.

And the bats. Talk about Big Leaguers. To see the likes of Russel Martin, Justin Morneau, and Jay Bay suit up with the Leaf on the uni, instills as much pride as if it were Wayne and Mario. I'm not kidding. These guys are the real deal. Martin (who after last year's All Star Game has rapidly become my favourite ball player), not only called a great game, he also gunned down Jimmy Rollins trying to steal second, and hit a late solo jack to close the gap.

If that weren't enough, Mississauga native, Joey Votto, announced to Canada and the world that he deserved to be hitting in the number three spot before Morneau and Bay, going 4-5 and launching a hometown bomb.

The bottom line is that although the lads wanted a different outcome, they played a heck of a game. Just a heck of a game, and they can hold their heads as high as the CN Tower as they did the nation proud today.

Johnson. Defending the border.

Remembering The Single A Titans

Ok, I know its day three and I haven't chimed in on the World Baseball Classic yet. I know...it's just I'm not ready for baseball yet. The Jays sitch, coupled with steroid-gate, combined with a very compelling Canucks squad, has put any hardcore hardball analysis on hold for a tad.

For the record, I have been tuning in sporadically, and caught a few innings of the opening tilt between Japan and China, and if there is ever a time to utter the phrase "Good For Baseball," that was it. This Yu Darvish cat is for real. Even before I heard the pundititions' post game analysis, I was hailing the Japanese starter as the next Randy Johnson. I can't wait to see him pitch to Team USA and make them look as stupid as Toyota does to Ford.

And speaking of the Model T's, they take on Team Canada tomorrow at the Rogers Dome, and I for one will be representing hard from the West Coast. I'm brewing a pot of Timmy's and frying up some Canadian back bacon, and hunkering down for the sequel to one of the greatest games I have ever witnessed in all my years of baseball witnessing.

Even in the days before this site, I hammered away on the keyboard from time to time, documenting a wide variety of a'happenings. A few years ago, I went to Maui to attend my uncle's wedding. My flight left the same day that Canada took on the mighty United States Of America at their own pass time. Fortunately, I had enough time to watch the game before racing out the door to catch my flight to the tropics. The following is an excerpt, the beginning of my travel journal of that trip, recanting of the best day in Canadian baseball since Carter's '93 blast.

***

You’d think this story begins on some white sand beach with the surf rolling up against the shore, or on the top of some ancient, remote volcano, complete with Paleozic black rock, bizzare Gaudie-esque lava formations. Or perhaps in some lush tropical garden, where all you can hear is the zen calm sounds of some lazy stream meandering through acres of vibrantly rich fauna, where the colour pallette rivals that of the most powerful desktop computers and outrageously humungous butterflies sporting outrageously vivid colours casually flutter by just to remind you you’re not dreaming.

But it doesn’t. Instead we begin in the confines of my ridiculously messy apartment, littered with comic books and dirty dishes and a pot of coffee idilng where amidst this carnage I am sitting on the couch wearing only my gotch, rabidly cheering on Team Canada as they proceed to thoroughly dismantle Team USA (from here on known as “the Yanks” and not the ones that Steinbrenner owns). My only fuel being the five grapes I’d eaten hours before and the two monster size cups of coffee I’d torn through.

Things had been going well. Unbelieveably, our lads had managed to bash out 8 runs to the Yanks 0 and although I did think they did posessed the capacity to shock everyone, even I was speechless. Our pitching was firing on all cylanders, our bats were jumping and we were playing like how a savvy squad should. Not bad for a bunch of fringe Major Leaguers (or in this case, Majour Leaguers) and a bunch of scrappy minor leaguers. Hell, our starter, Adam Loewen played all of last year in single A and was breezing through the likes of Vernon Wells, Ken Griffey Jr, Derek’s Jeter and Lee and Alex freakin’ Gonzales himself.

It was surreal. Stubby Clapp, who’s been playing out in Edmonton of all places started things off with a triple in the first in which he eventually scored. Ex Jay catcher, Ernie Whitt managed brilliantly, calming down Lowen who was in a jam in the first and setting the stage for the eventual slaughter that would follow. Outfielding phenom Adam Stern even managed to hit an inside the park homerun and was double away from the cycle, not to mention putting on a bandit mask and robbing Team Yankee many times by making insane diving catches in the outfield. It got so insane that at one point it looked like we were actually going to make the big bad multimillionaire all star Yanks say mercy, a rule in the tourney in which if a team runs by more than 15 runs after 5 innings, or by 10 after 7, the game is to be called. Yep, even I was left speechless. But also dancing around in my red gotch punching wildly at the television with my red boxing gloves that I was sporting on my mits. Or raising my stuffed Youppie (ex Expos mascot now comandeered by the Montreal Canadiens) every time something else went our way.

Everything looked to be as if it were on cruise control until the 6th when the Empire struck back and bagged a quick two runs off our new pitcher, Beggs. WBC rules have pitch counts in effect so after our boy Loewen hit 65, he automatically got the hook. There is no doubt in my mind that if he were left to his own devices he would woven a complete game shut out as if it were the finest silk from China.

But not today. Beggs came in, gave up a quick two and then loaded the bases for Jason Varitek of the Red Sox. No don’t get me wrong, I’m a HUGE fan of Boston’s captain and catcher but I really needed him to do the honourable thing and strike out here. Unfortunately, he lived up to his billing as one of the best leaders in the game and told minor league Beggs that his fast ball would look much better in the bar, far back in the outfield. Or perhaps the moon.

So here I was after one of the grandest of salamis I’ve ever seen hit, with the score now 8-6, and to be honest, was waiting for the other cleat to drop. I mean hell, Jarret from Subway would’ve even bronzed this one and put it on the mantle.

But it didn’t.

Miraculously, the men held on, despite rolling through another two or three minor league relievers and after another game saving performance in the outfield by Stern we were three outs away from taking it to OOOSSA. Ernie must’ve known, because he was so chill and relaxed whilst dropping another AA/AAA fresh face to close the game and essentially giant kill that when Stern dropped what would’ve been the final out (no fault of his, he practically leapt across the outfield to make a spectacular catch that he only bobbled because his glove banged so hard against the grass), that he left him in. I was literally on my hands and knees throwing an actual temper tantrum complete with fist banging and leg kicking screaming “NOOOO!!!!!” With two out and a runner on and A -Rod coming up I knew that although after a hard fought game we were inevitably going to toss up a potato and lose in extras.

So A-Rod steps up. One of the most feared hitters in the Majours. American League MVP last year for chrissakes and fouls off a few. At this point I’ve got both gloves on, I’m gripping Youppi like I’m three and he’s a “blanky” and dancing a jig like I’ve drank coffee all day and the only bathroom in the province is across in Chilliwack. And what does Mr. MVP do? He grounds out....And I flail myself violently around the apartment banging my self off the walls screaming/singing what will be my new hit song “We beat the Yanks! We beat the Yanks!”


After putting the finishing touches on a final internet post on my most hated team’s message board, The Washington Nationals, (who I had been harrassing all afternoon during the seige), I realized that it was now 4:30 and I still had to finish packing, hop in a cab, battle the traffic to the airport and catch my plane.


Joe Buck (announcer): Nick, your squad has done the impossible by defeating Team USA, not only solving some of the best pitchers in the world but also managing to mow down some of the world’s best hitters. All with a bunch of fringe Major Leaguers and upstart minor leaguers. What are you going to do know?

Me: I’m going to Maui.

***

And so I did. Good luck tomorrow lads. May the purity of the games played on dusty diamonds across this great land, help hoist you, and by proxy all of us as well, to glory once again.

The Big O Is Back!

Never mind the 30 + years it took to pay it off, the Expos eviction, the sprawling concrete backyard, or the rooftop mishaps, Olympic Stadium is back in action. How?

Try the place packed to the secured rafters to cheer on the Montreal Impact in their CONCACAF Champions League match vs. Club Santos Laguna last week.

And while the squad is off to play the second game in Mexico tonight, these chicks will keep the place warm up with a ripping rail session.

Deal Day

Any Canadian Sportsfeed. "Oli Jokinen to the Flames!", "Pascal Leclaire to the Sens!", "Steve Montador for Petteri Nokelainen!"

Any American Sports Outlet. "Manny Finally Fucking Agrees To A 45 Mill Contract With The Dodgers."

I just love cultural differences. Only in Canada can a trade for third line forwards on an ice hockey team completely eclipse the biggest deal on the continent. Say the name Scott Boras on this side of the 49th and people would assume its the name of the equipment manager for the Sarnia Sting.

Look Bob...

...you're no Marty Brodeur or Turco. Or even an Eddie Belfour playing in some shinny game in Mississauga. So stop trying to get all fancy by handling the puck behind the net and just go back to stopping the damn things.



On the flip side, we should sign Alex Burrows to an extension more often. Two goals tonight after the GM presented him with the papers. Maybe we can revoke his four year contract and get him to sign every couple of weeks.

Breaking NHL News

Brian Burke just went to Tim Hortons. Apparently he ordered a double, double and a Boston creme. He's still standing at the counter pondering. Don't worry. The Maniwaki media will be there to get the scoop if he picks up a box of Timbits for a lads in the MLSE War Room.

Holy fuck, I have never seen such skewed reporting, as it pertains to the centre of the universe, in my life. Every major Canadian sports feed that I tuned into to today had speculation as to the Leafs front office moves as their top billing. Unreal.

Are Tomas Kaberle and Pavel Kubina really that news worthy? Must be as apparently everyone that doesn't live in the 416 or 905 were bombarded with punditory predictions as to where the two will end up.

As I have fed into this Ontaricentric nonsense long enough, allow me to weigh in on some truly intriguing stories from around the league.

1. Way To Go Jarome. How about scoring two goals and assisting on three more to become the all time point leader for the Flames? This was no empty netter to pass previous leader Theoren Fleury. This was a five point barrage in a rematch of the '04 Stanley Cup Finals. An decisive way for a decisive Captain to take the reigns. Good show. Sorry that your historic night got upstaged by Brian Burke driving down the 401.

2. Way To Go Marty. Way to earn your 100th shutout, your second in three games, after coming back from shoulder surgery and sitting out for the last 50 or so games. The way you shut down the sharpshooting, high scoring, powerhouse Flyers was gripping. But not as compelling as Ian White and Dominc Moore's morning skate.

3. Way To Go Ethan. After taking that stick in the face, the way you got up and skated off the ice with your eye looking as bloody as if it had just met the business end of a Kimbo Slice haymaker was heroic, heart on your jersey, Oilers hockey. I'm happy to hear that you won't need surgery. Oh and if you didn't know, Vesa Toskala (22-17-10, SV% 0.888, GAA 3.27) might require surgery in the off season.

Until the sun rises tomorrow over the ACC...

Oaktown Hockey Appreciation Night

First things first. Let's hand out a slew Maniwaki Medals to the Oaktown Dangler and his Tigers squad as they went on a stellar run to end their season. Sharing top spot in the NCAA Atlantic Division with Air Force, the two teams will both raise the banner and get bys into the second round of the playoffs.

Yes, it seems that every year around this time I'm regaling the exploits of the Dangler and Co. in some fantastic frozen quest for hockey glory and every year it seems he and his respective squad completely astounds me. Congratulations on yet another successful run and good fortune in the post season. May hoistage and good beard growth come your way.

Not so fortunate tonight was the Dangler's former teammate in the Oaktown snowflake system, Steve Mason, as he got shelled at the Garage to the tune of 30 shots to 19. Alex Burrows unleashed an absolute Bombardier of a slap shot from point blank to make it 3-1, which stood until the end of regulation.

But who can blame him? He was probably just blown away that Mats -who he grew up watching - was on the other end of the ice, ready to barrel down the ice and crash his crease.

This Oaktown hockey system sure does crank'em out doesn't it? Div 1 D-men and Calder contending goalies. Wow.