Sunday, March 30

Richard Peddie Interviewed On HNIC. Take Me Away From All This Death

Moneyed vampire Richard Peddie descended from his castle atop Witch Mountain Saturday to waste the time of speak with CBC's Elliotte Friedman. Elliotte, who has the most feminized male name I've ever seen, sat in horror for 6 and a half minutes, as Peddie spoke of his lust for money and the automatic autonomy the winner of the TML GM sweepstakes will most certainly get.

Peddie, seen here arriving for the interview, also said things like "I never", and commented on how a pack of howling wolves outside were " children of the night!"
Friedman, his throat tightening, wondered aloud if Peddie had ever heard the hew and cry from Leafs fans who just wish that he would disappear. Peddie indignantly defended himself by saying, "De billagers! They will ne-ber know of my exquisite tortures!" At which point Gord "Renfield" Kirke rushed out and shoved a handful of spiders into Peddie's mouth.

Washing them down with a bejeweled goblet filled with twonies, Peddie said that the interview process for the GM's job hasn't even begun. Obviously suggesting that there is only one man they want for the job, and they have to wait until the playoffs are over to talk to him. Any other "candidates" can swing in the wind until August, by which time Peddie, Kirke and Walking Dead charter member Larry Tenenbaum will surely have alienated said #1 choice by asking him how much money he's got on him right at that moment.

Friedman then brought up the Forbes magazine piece from last November which stated that the Maple Leafs are basically worth half a billion dollars. Peddie got a crazy gleam in his eye, threw back his head laughing and said, "Aahhhhh, Elliotte my dear... that article you refer to, that is in my personal spank-bank!" Gord Kirke, on his hands and knees, then squealed, "Ha ha ha, good one Master! You spank to half a billion dollars!"

"Enough!" screamed Peddie, causing Gord Kirke to wet himself.
"It is time, Friedman..." said Peddie, " get from you what I truly desire!"
Friedman clutched valiantly at his throat. "No, Dracul! You will never drink from my body!" he said.
Peddie laughed. "You fool. That is for not what I crave!"
Peddie raised a clawed hand. Friedman held himself more closely, fearing the worst. There seemed to be a power, an energy, coming from Peddie's outstretched collection of talons. Suddenly, there was a ferocious tugging at Friedman's pants. As Gord Kirke howled hysterically, Elliotte's wallet violently came away from his pants pocket. It flew across the room and sailed into the waiting, sweaty paw of Richard Peddie. Peddie examined it's contents: $13, and a Roll Up the Rim to Win coupon.
Pocketing the lot, Peddie said, "Ahhh, Friedman, this will add nicely to my collection!"
"But..." sputtered Friedman.
"SILENCE!" screamed Peddie, causing Gord Kirke to wet himself again.
Peddie began to laugh. It started in his belly, moved up into his throat and then to his lips. Before it seemed he could laugh no harder, his body started to convulse, and an instant later, Peddie had transformed himself into a bat!
"Reet! Reet!" said Peddie, as he flapped his vascular skin flaps, and sailed out of the window.
"Wait for me, Master!" yelled Gord Kirke, as he ran and flung himself and his now soaking wet trousers out of the same window.


Friday, March 28

It's late and the Leafs game I recorded just finished. I have absolutely nothing funny, good or even stupid to write. I'm just tired. Is there anything original to say at this moment? Can I elevate the quality of the discussion around the Leafs right now? Is it even pertinent to bring up the goddamn Toronto St. Pats? The finger pointing started after Tuesdays game, and by the time we read what we all have to say, there'll be a lot of one-eyed Players, Coaches, GM's, Former GM's, Captain's, Goalies, Executives and Fans.

My disappointment right now, although huge, feels drab and lifeless. This may be a product of maturity, although I doubt it. It may be a product of enforced expectations. I don't know, and at this time, I don't even care.

Thursday, March 27

You Don't Look A Day Over 200

Hi everybody. I'd like to take a couple of minutes away from using the word "motherfucker" to bring your attention to the fact that it's someone's birthday today! On this day in Leafs history, someone in our Leaf Loving family was torn from the warm, perfect, secure embrace of his mother's womb and into the drafty, imperfect and insecure embrace of the Toronto Maple Leafs. Yes, none other than, you don't know him, but you still love him, NORTE! Boooo, I mean, yaaaaaaay!

Let me tell you that Norte is what being a fan of the Leafs is all about. You know that feeling you get when you see the Leafs walk down their hallway and run out onto the ice? Take that and put it into a cat-like frame, and you have Norte.

Norte loves the Leafs so much, he puts on a tuxedo to watch "Game In An Hour".

Norte is so cool that Pavel Kubina refused to waive his NTC just so that he could "...stay on Norte's radar".

Norte is so dope, Don Cherry would get his name right on Coach's Corner.

The future name of the ACC? "NORTE'S SNOW FORT".

So Happy Birthday, dude. You totally make up for the lack of charisma/writing by the other people on this blog; That Guy I Met and What's His Ass. You clearly rule.
Here is an old picture I dug up from one of Norte's past birthday's. It has that guy, and that other dude, and the one in the back, and RICK VAIVE, and Mr. Moustache, and BORJE SALMING. Granted, Norte doesn't look that great here. I think he was sick that day and that crown was pinching him, but still. A birthday is a birthday! Have a great one, Bro-Show!

Wednesday, March 26

Leafs Dealt Near-Fatal Blow

Trying to find words to express everything is tough right now. I went to Pension Plan Puppets to check the wind over there. "Operation Cock Tease" as PPP put it, is now pretty much over. He says that seeing as how the pressure on the Leafs is back, they do a phoner and lose 6-2. I'd like to think that the Leafs were due for a loss right about now, which just happens to be the worst time of the year. They've had trouble with the Bruins all year, and if Claude "Let's All Get Some Z's" Julien couldn't motivate them for this game, he deserved to be fired.
No Mats, no Antro, and Matt Stajan is only one man, people! I guess the season isn't totally over. Everyone could lose in the next week. But...oh god, I'm tired.

So obviously, Kyle Wellwood reads this blog because after having me hand his angel food cake ass to him for the past season, he was clearly shamed into being close to his former excellence in the past two games. Either that or getting benched by Paul Maurice gave him a vision into Earth's days to come; a terrifying look into a future-world gone mad! The year is 2010, and diminutive hockey centerman Kyle Wellwood is riding a bus with other members of his team, the Rochester Americans! Rated PG for no violence and mild language. Now available on DVD and Blu-ray.

As for the near-fatal blow, every single one of us reading this post understands what this means. For all you ladies out there, and by ladies, I mean Loser Domi, you'll just have to imagine how this feels. Think of the worst hangover you've ever had, and then focus all that into your genitals. That was this loss for the Leafs tonight.

Tuesday, March 25

Is that guy skating towards me?

This is one of the funniest things I've ever seen. Now it is awful in a lot of ways too, and my first reaction was one of horror, but upon second viewing I really had to laugh out loud, and hard. This is Patrick Roy's son demonstrating some of that level headedness that got his dad to the top. What is so amusing is the fact that the other goalie didn't see anything coming. I've never seen anyone try to take the high road and get the crap beat out of them harder. If I could enhance the video MI3 style you'd actually see that poor guy putting on glasses at one point hoping that Jonathan would follow at least one of those hallowed rules of punching. 1. Never hit a guy with glasses. 2. Don't tuck your thumb into your fist. 3. Try fighting someone who is remotely interested in fighting. 4. Follow through. 5. If you hold hold A longer the punch will be super strong.

Monday, March 24


It could be worse and I’ll tell you how. Without getting into the icky bits, I was conceived in Boston. Yeah get your giggling out of the way (hands where I can see them Moose) and forgive me for working blue. My parents (and older brother) lived in Boston when one of the times my old man was giving it to my mother resulted in yours truly. You ask my brother and he’d calls them the good old days. Apparently I was two weeks away from being born when my father woke up one morning saying to himself, “there is no way any child of mine will be born in the United States.” Forgive what seems like classic anti-Americanism, its not, when it comes to my old man it’s more about being pro-Canadian. So up we moved from Boston back to Toronto.That last sentence alone tells you all you need to know. If we had stayed, had I been born an American, from Boston no less, besides the obvious statement to anyone who knows me well that I would have been one of the New Kids On The Block. I would also have been a Boston Bruins fan. We moved from Boston when my brother was nearly 5 years old, his favourite number to this day is 4, cos of Bobby Orr. Had I stayed…it would have been the Bruins all the way.

As I write this, reflecting on what could have been, knowledgeable to my core, that those same Boston Bruins, a team I have zero affinity for, will get beaten by my, your, our Toronto Maple Leafs, a team I have complete affinity for. These next two games whether we win them or not are going to be exciting. And right now I feel like we can win both games, handily, with or without Mats. I have nothing but faith and even if I’m wrong, all I care about is that it’s the Toronto Maple Leafs making me feel that way.

Saturday, March 22

TITLE: as yet to be determined

I realize that writing about games that have just played is sort of like reading a novelization after watching the movie but I’m going to do it anyway especially as one of the games, roll out the vitriol, was against those cheap-ass motherfuckers. First let me say that it’s amazing how little their fans want to talk hockey after losing, especially to us, cos believe me, they hate our fucking guts almost as much as we hate theirs.

Anyone who knows me knows that I hate their cheap, low rent guts. I hate their cheap low-rent guts so much that if you could hate the guts’ guts than I did and do. I hate their fucking guts’ guts times 10 to infinity…that’s how much I hate their fucking guts. Yet, as I have stated previous – due to relationships established well before the inception of their team, I am friends, close-friends (that’s still hard to say) with fans of that team.
They gloat when they win and let me tell you, they have bad breath and guess what I guarentee you are going to be spit on when they talk to you. They just smoked a bunch of cigarettes and drank a lot of coffee and they spray it when they say it.

They also say things that make you want to slap the shit out of their face. And without fail, they're always shocked that they are the only people on Earth who like alfredson. You actually need to remind these sick sick people that the man is so loathsome, detestable and terrible the he gets booed everytime he touches the puck his own building.. Oh my god I hate them.
I once browbeat my 80 year old father to the point of tears for saying he liked skating on the canal...that's how much I hate that fucking team.

And as such, beating them like we did tonight means a lot - couple that with the much needed two points. It’s a testament to how our team is playing that every following game becomes the do or die situation. Their playoffs and such. And going along that thinking that’s our 4th consecutive win over that team incidentally. (Don't get me started again.)Does it make it all the sweeter then the win comes after the dismantling of the Sabres and their nearly 40 minutes of 5 on 3 play? Hello Pavel Kubina...and uh Matt Stajan, the phone is for's Alyn McCauley calling.
And that the win comes without Mats in the line-up. Or Antropov or Colaiacovo. It could only have been made sweeter if Emery was in net. The game could have also been made sweeter if alfredson got the shit kicked out of me in the parking lot.

Too angry?

Thursday, March 20

The Norris Trophy, In Four Easy Steps

You know I once yanked my hamstring out. It was during a game that Moose and my team had to win in order to get into the playoffs. I was having one of those "awesome" games. The kind of game you refer back to when you're having one of those "shitty" games. You know the kind; the kind where you're like, really, really shitty. During those games you try and talk yourself back by saying amazingly inspiring things like, "Remember that game when I was awesome?", etc.

So it was one of those. It was the second period, I already had a goal and an assist, and I hadn't lost a draw. We were in the offensive zone and I was going to the corner when the puck took a weird turn away from me. I went to pivot the same direction of the puck while a little something called the Newtonian laws of physics demanded I keep going in a straight line. And you know who paid the price for my anti-science stance? My Adductor Magnus, that's who.

Remember when you were a kid and your mom got something that had been wrapped in a really big elastic band, and you got to play with it, shooting it everywhere? You loved that little elastic. It just seemed like there was nothing you and that elastic couldn't, wouldn't or shouldn't do with each other. You were the best of pals. Then one time you were going to fire it at something and it just broke. Right in your hand, just, *snap*. That was it. Fun's over. THAT's how it was when my hamstring went. It felt bad. Not bad like -I'm dying from all the pain I'm in- bad. More like -the human body shouldn't feel weird like this- bad.So what did I do? I hobbled to the bench, got out a roll of stick tape and did about 50 laps around my right thigh with it, as tight as I could get it. My muscle wanted out, but I had a championship to win. I went back out, scored again, won all my draws and had a winger on our team put it in our own net in the final minute to lose the game. The point I'm making is that I am a Patti Smyth level warrior, and Carlo Colaiacovo has continued his Evel Knievel like charge to maim every part of his body before the age of 26. Carlo is so good and he used to be so fun to watch. But now when he plays it's like you feel lucky when he gets up after getting rocked...or after rocking someone else. You're all, "Look everyone! He made it!" like he'd returned from some impossible suicide mission that's so crazy it just might work. Similar to when the Leafs had Lindros, or when Washingtron posts on the blog.

So I'm here to help, Carlo, because I've been there. I'm providing to you a set of instructional photos designed not just to help you regain you mobility, but to help you stay flexible as a preventative so that this never has to happen again. After all, you have a lot of other body parts to injure...I see a pretty undamaged orbital bone!

This person isn't me, BTW. Not that I look totally dissimilar to her, although I'm not 5'4, not kind of pan-Asian looking or a quarter Mexican. And I've never done any fitness modeling. And I'm a man. So actually, I look totally dissimilar to this person. Although my legs are as smooth and shapely.

Step 1
Carlo, assume this natural position

Step 2
Carlo, please stretch both your hands to the left. No, your left

Step 3
OK, now stretch your hands to your ri OH GODDAMN IT CARLO, PAY ATTENTION!

Step 4
Win Norris Trophy

Well that's it Carlo! And great job to everyone working out at home. Do these exercises every day for the rest of you career, and bring home the first Norris trophy to the Leafs since, well, ever. Remember, these exercises will help people in all walks of life. The hamstrings are used every day, in activities ranging from walking, to moonwalking. So get cracking Carlo. Good luck, and we'll see you at training camp in September!

Wednesday, March 19

Gretzky to Team...

"You're embarassing me! Don't you know who I am? I'm really sorry for my team everyone, they PROMISED me they were going to try their best..."

Tuesday, March 18

Kyle Wellwood: Metaphor

Carlo Colaiacovo got slew footed by Buffalo's Drew Stafford on Saturday night, and naturally, because it's Carlo Colaiacovo, and he plays for the Toronto Maple Leafs, it meant he blew out his knee. Every Most knee injuries occur when the knee is bent against the joint. Seeing as I'm a doctor, I can safely say I've never seen one which occurred when the knee was bent in the forward, natural direction. The reason for this is because it's Colaiacovo and he plays for the Leafs. At this rate, Bobby Orr's knee's are better than Colaiacovo's. If Carlo were a race horse, by now they'd have collected a bunch of his sperm and shot him.


Yesterday I asked Norte to come up with a new poll for our new feature, "The Poll". He sent me something which was funny and well written, the only problem being that it was about Kyle "The Play Dies With Me" Wellwood. I told him we should think of something else because I didn't want to have the poll feature just used to rip on Wellwood; that's what the main blog is for.

I'm delighted to re-announce the great news from Saturday: That Kyle Wellwood's considerable ass was nailed to the low - straining from the weight - end of the Leafs bench against the Sabres, in a radical new move that Paul Maurice is trying out called, "PLAYER ACCOUNTABILITY". I know, I know, I had trouble fathoming it too. Apparently, if I've read my hockey Wiki properly, "Player Accountability" is when a coach of a hockey team rewards or punishes a player based on what they do or don't do on the ice. Are you following me? The "logic" being that if the player is rewarded, then they will do more of whatever they're doing and less if they are punished. Phew, my head is spinning. So say, someone like Kyle Wellwood, who I wouldn't put on the third line of the Marlies, is completely unprofessional, doesn't work-out in the off-season, doesn't strengthen his girly groin, and is so soft on the puck that he's now being represented by "Hanes Her Way". He plays like shit, doesn't compete, gives away the puck every time he has it. The Coaches gambit is, he doesn't get to skate until he plays better? Paul Maurice: Jack Adams Trophy Winner.

From here, there is no way Kyle comes back to the Leafs next year. Now, I know what you're gonna say, "But Greener, I love to blow raspberries on his puffy little cheeks!What will I do?!" To which I'll reply, "Then go get a nephew like everyone else." He is exactly what Cliff Fletcher wants to do away with on this team; uninspired, insipid, only occasionally good, and soft. Kyle Wellwood has the indistiction of becoming a metaphor for everything that has hamstrung the Leafs for three seasons. When Norte was writing about the fire that the Leafs once had, the Leafs which everyone HATED to play against, he was speaking about everything that Wellwood isn't. Will Kyle have some market value this summer? Probably a little, paired with a prospect or a draft choice. Will he after a month of no-shows next November? I wouldn't bet a single, battered fist on it.

Saturday, March 15

Nobody leaves empty handed, so we're gonna cut off his hands

It struck me tonight, at the start of the second period, or maybe the middle of the period, at some point while the score was still 3 to 1, that it looked like there were 5 Kyle Wellwood’s on the ice. Full, no doubt, from his fist dipped in batter (my choice in the poll).
And worse: how predictably they played. It doesn’t take Roger Neilson to watch the Leafs try the exact same play on the rush, every single time…especially if Blake’s got the puck. (I know that Jason Blake deserves a mulligan this year, and he gets it, for sure - but at some point in your 1000th goddamn shot Jason...pass the puck.

And yes losing Mats Sundin to the evil groin injury (groin injury, gr-gr-groin in-jur-ee) and then Antropov in the first three minutes of this game is the worst thing to happen to humanity since the release of Ya Mo Be There...but some one else, anyone else...take the reins. And not just one period, one game stepping it up.
Remember a few years ago when Mats went down in the playoffs, forgive me but I think it was in a series against the Isles, and Alyn McCauley endeared himself to us forever with his heroics in that tough series? I hate to say it but with this shortened bench, I don't see an Alyn McCauley anywhere.

Tell me that sounds like band wagon jumping and I will say what fucking business is that of yours you asshole, I'll kick your fucking head in.

I continued watching the game and what struck me about our team around the 5 to 2 mark was how much like something from my past this team is.
Imagine it’s the summer and it’s 1989. Without aging myself I’m 17 years old and hanging out with a guy named John Paczek. First thing you gotta know is that we called him pollock not John not pac-zek, and not Pollock like the painter but po-lock as in racial slur. We also called him paycheck. Regardless what we called him, he was a superb guy to be friends with, particularly at 17. Paycheck liked chicks and to drink and to skateboard. And when you’re 17, and it’s the summer, that’s like the Holy Trinity.
So that summer Paycheck, who I think may still have been 16, and I find ourselves, impossibly, in rural Quebec. A city close-ish to Montreal called St-Jean-Sur-Richelieu. Now the question why were there or what brought us there remains, I’m afraid, lost for the ages. And suffice it to say statutes of limitations being what they are it may or may not have been illegal and salacious. My point in the tale is Paycheck and I, drinking underage in a Francophone peeler bar.
The club in question, Le Pink Panther, was, if memory serves, where the strippers clearly went to die. Not to say that the strippers were old but one of them danced to Mozart.
Regardless, he and I were there for the dollar shots, dollar beers and the dollar pool table. Now let me tell you, I am always wary of guys who speak other languages. When you don’t know the language it’s amazing how much “Hey after this game of pool I need to go pick up my kids from my sister's house” sounds like “The second this English pig’s back is turned I'm going to smash him across the back of the head with a pool cue and steal his shoes.” How should I know? It’s all Greek to me.
And I am clearly Anglo and worse a frigger d'ontario from Toronto no less...oh God and fucking paycheck is Polish so he's like fucking vanilla ice cream ala mode white and the extent of my French besides Voulez Vous Couche Avec Moi C'est Soir? is an imitation of Clousseau asking if your dog bites.

What the hell was I talking about? Oh yeah...Leafs lost. I'm totally gutted.

Friday, March 14

A New Way Of Expressing Myself

Tuesday, March 11


It's now or never. This is for all the marbles and we are behind the 8 ball. We are still alive and we are still in the mix. We are on the outside looking in. We have to run the table. We are in the driver's seat of our own destiny. We have turned the corner. It's not the size of the dog in the fight, but the fight in the dog.
We have to find a way to put pucks on the net, cos when you put the puck on the net, good things are going to happen. All of our lines have to be the hardest working lines in hockey tonight. We cannot get beaten to the puck and we cannot be content to sit on a lead. We cannot give up the first goal. We cannot give up a soft goal. We cannot give up the equalizer. We cannot muck it up in the corner.

We have to stand them up at the blue line. We have to go right through them. We have to buzz around the net. We have to pepper the goalie. We have to make good wholesale changes. We have to light the lamp, put the biscuit in the basket and find the twine. We have to go top shelf, we have to go upstairs. We have to beat them five hole. We must smell the blood in the water. We must be off to the races. We must answer the call. We must hit on all cylinders. We must play like a well oiled machine. We must go for the jugular. We must have the game in the bag. We must run roughshod over them. We must put on a clinic.

We cannot look out of synch. We cannot play to lose. We cannot play back on our heels. We cannot be on the ropes. We cannot circle the wagons. We cannot play tentatively. We cannot go to the well once too often. We cannot chip away at a lead. We cannot go quietly. We cannot let the fat lady sing. We cannot let this one slip away. We can’t let it rain or pour. We cannot let the wind out of our sails. We cannot let in a back breaker. We cannot let the roof cave in or the wheels fall off. We cannot have the final nail in the coffin. We cannot let the lights out. We cannot be a train wreck. We cannot get shellacked. We cannot play ugly.

We must play with a sense of urgency. We must draw first blood. We must not let it be a nail biter or a pressure cooker. We cannot have a see saw game. We cannot have a barn burner or a game of inches. We must fight tooth and nail. We must silence their crowd and take them out of the game. We must get the crowd into it. We must make the crowd go wild. We must electrify the fans and keep them on their feet. We must not let the clock be our enemy.

It's gut check time.

Penalty to #18. Two Minutes For HEY ARE THOSE DONUTS?!

Moose and I went to the Staples Center tonight to encourage the Kings to try and beat the Christ-are-they-boring Vancouver Canucks. We should have kept rooting. Marc Crawford decided to start Manchester Monarchs third Daniel Cloutier whose name rings a bell...I can't remember him. Was he in the NHL before? Oh well. Cloutier played fairly solid, and by that I mean he didn't let in 4 goals by the time Moose had to take his first leak. Damned by faint praise, Dan-o let the Canucks back into it with a couple of minutes left and then got completely beaten on a penalty kill in overtime. Let's just say that Steve "Hanging Out With Greener" Stamkos will have to look good in a Kings uniform. Don't worry, I'll tell him every good thing we said about him.
Weird thing happened during the game. A couple of minutes in, Alex Edler of the Canucks takes a penalty. He goes into the box and sits down. They put him on the jumbotron like they do every game, I look up, and Edler is sitting there eating a donut! It was all, "...wha..."? It was the weirdest thing I'd ever seen. Moose and I couldn't figure it out. Has anyone ever seen that? Has anyone seen Moose figure anything out?


I also walked past Ru Paul on Santa Monica Blvd. the other day, and I swear to you all, the first thing that came to my mind was, "So that's what Hal Gill looks like!" I'm not sure if Hal Gill sports a red leather Michael Jackson "Beat It" jacket like Ru had on, but what Hal Gill does behind the closed doors of his bedroom is simply none of our concern.

Look! I've added a poll to our pushily amusing HS/HS coterie of features! Please take some time with a coffee and consider your polling options. This weeks poll is: What is Kyle Wellwood Eating Right Now? As always, we know you have a choice of polls, and we appreciate you choosing HS/HS polls. Serving you faithfully since last night.

Sunday, March 9


Are you fucking kidding me? Last night I watched a UFC fight and a hockey game broke out. It was amazing to watch the New Jersey Devils ground and pound Vesa Toskala. Somewhere Tito Ortiz is smiling.

Let me tell you how pissed I am this morning. Sadly I am not talking about being drunk. I am so pissed off that I have to warn you – much to Father Greener’s chagrin – I use the C word in this article. And before you start shaking your head and telling me about Martin Brodeur stopping 42 saves last night…or how in the four games (against the Leafs) this season he stopped 143 or 149 shots or how his save percentage against the same Toronto Maple Leafs is a cheap .960 or with a 1.50 GAA…blah de frickin blah....

We didn’t not win last night because of Martin Brodeur (although he is a remarkable goalie – who else in the world can turn a kick save rebound into a pass?), we were beaten last night, twice, on calls so egregious that I am shocked that Kerry Fraser and his coiffered cunty-ness wasn’t on the ice.

And you might ask why didn’t McCabe or Colaiacovo clear the front of the net? Because clearly these two refs wanted the Leafs playing a ringette game.

You want a byline? How about Two Blown Calls and More Posts than Moose And Washingtron put Together.

Now saying that…I also know hockey well enough to know shitty defense when I see one. Without a clear checking line it was left to Tucker, Blake and Stajan to shut it down. And with a minute left to play…well…not to oversell it…but it cost the Leafs the Season.
49 seconds left to play. And another giveaway. know what? Fuck off. Fuck off right now. No, not you. I'm not mad at you...I'm just mad. And typing is making me feel weltschmerz, the likes of which I haven't experienced since my individual subjectivity was given free expression in response to the confines of rationalism imposed by the Enlightenment and other associated aesthetic movements.

Friday, March 7

Blue And White Beat the Black and Yellow Black and Blue

Beware the ides of March, or the eyes of March: whichever. I don’t really care which. Just beware of March. With games against Boston (tonight), the Devils on Saturday and then a home and home against the Flyers that could arguably be the two most important games to the history of Canadian hockey since the Summit series. Then Buffalo, the Islanders, Buffalo again, otwa, Boston/Boston, Montreal.
This is what it comes down to. This month. I don’t give a care about before or NTC’s or will he or won’t he. I don’t care about math or home ice advantage…all I care about is this month. You want to know how I really feel? The whole season comes down to these games in March. It’s an oft used expression but this is the team’s playoffs.

Just to let you know…it's Friday afternoon and my son is eating a fruit roll up, saying “mmmm…” with every bite, sitting on my lap and watching Sponge Bob. Due to a play date with the girl my son is starting to call his first Ex-wife, I had to watch the game on Leafs TV. I wrote the above before the game and I am happy to say that I still stand behind it.
Is it just me or are the Leafs and the Bruins polar opposites right now?

First thing I thought was that…we deserved that game. We deserved to watch that game and they deserved to play it. Second thing I thought was that I had no idea Belak, Gill and Kilger were that big a problem in the room.
(Those are the jokes folks)I always like when the team looks like its having fun. And with as many pretty, lucky bounces as a late era Roger Moore James Bond, how could you not? Look, let’s face it; Toskala is going to take care of the net. Mats is gonna score, if anyone else can with some kind of consistency, than this isn't a bad team. If you have read HS/HS with any consistency you would note, Greener and I with very few exceptions, always believing. But I am starting to see that almost just isnt good enough.
The key to Saturday’s game will be the special team and continuing the pace of 14 PPG in the past 11 games. That will go a long way to beating Brodeur – who was clearly the difference the last time they met. And 4 power play goals goes even further in achieving that. You get 4 power play goals in a game, I don’t care who you are playing, you’re going to win every single one of them.

What else can I say? Well how about your Captain having six goals and seven assists in his last seven games? Or his 13th 30 goal season? 1300th Game? The King. I heart you Mats.

I will admit though that when I go to Pension Plan Puppets, I have to avert my eyes lest I see how far we have slid for the slide for Stamkos. Last I looked I think we were at a 12% chance. What is it now? NO - don't tell me.

Leafs 8, Zombies 2

What goes around comes around is a phrase I probably, in my life, have used, maybe twice, three times. Here is the fourth: After having to lose to the narcoleptic Tim Thomas/Boston Bruins so many times the past two seasons, I guess what goes around, comes around, as the Leafs went into the Boston building and kicked the Jesus out of the Bruins, sending affable Michiganer Thomas home early for a night of intense self reflection.

It was just one of those nights for Toronto where things just kept getting righter. After a shaky start to the first, the wheel of fortune just began spinning for the Leafs as the the bell began to toll for the Bruins, and all the metaphors I'm using.

The Bruins didn't actually play as badly as the score suggests as the Leafs scored some lucky, weird goals on their way to this hilariously huge win. Let's just say that the final score was 5-2. Lucky goals or no, the Leafs earned this one and deserved to score bunch of them. The set-up from McCabe to Mats with the fake slapper to pass for the putt was deliciouso. And scoring 4 powerplay goals was fist-in-air-time. I think they would have had one more except for that Maurice put out a non-powerplay kid-line at the end, and they weren't really trying to score out of respect. It was just a fun game to watch with the Leafs on the right side of an 8 goal windfall. Look, it's the least we all deserve.

You can really see how a coach's temperature is reflected in his club. For instance, when Pat Quinn ran our bench, the only time he took a time-out from kicking someones ass was to smoke a cigar or have a heart attack. He was an intense son of a bitch and so were the Leafs. Ahhhh, a season full of intensity...sigh. Sorry, I just went to heaven there for a minute.

To that point, I don't know what Claude Julien does with his free time, but I bet it's right on the same level as making string art or washing the dishes. Studies now show that two Julien's, taken with or without food, will cause coma-like symptoms in guys called Greener. Maybe it's why I'm only awesome without an NHL job, but it seems to me that as the leader of the club, when your team is getting it's collective ass handed to it in your own home, it's up to, say, THE COACH, to get the ship righted again. Like, Claude, I don't about saying something on the bench to your army of zombies who are forced to walk the Earth in an crushing, defensive limbo, eating the brains out of the game of hockey?! Don't want to yell? Well, I can understand, you don't want to wake the 4,000 fans nodding off in the stands. Every time the camera found him he was just standing there with a sheepish look on his face.

This man is the thing in turkey meat that makes you fall asleep at 5:30 on Thanksgiving Day.

You know, I get it, if it wins, it plays...but it's not even working anymore. The Bruins are dropping out of the playoff hunt because division teams like the Leafs who see them every second game have finally figured out how to handle a team that starts trapping in the first period. When the Bruins ownership finally gets wind of that, I'll prepare another picture: "Hey, Claude, you're fired!"

Monday, March 3

Syracuse Crunch Goalie Karl Goehring Named AHL Player Of The Week!

No, I'm just kidding, Mats was named NHL player of the week yesterday and I guess all you have to do to get that honor is score 8 points in four games leading your dead/dying team to a 3-0-1 record for the week and 6-1-1 in the past two. It's weeks like this where you just know that scores of boys are emerging from wombs all over Canada, and the first words they hear in their tender ears are from the handsome doctor saying to his mother, "Say hello to your son: Mats!" Kind of like how there are 350,000 5'8" 20 year olds with greasy hair driving Nissan pick-up trucks with "Alberta ROX!" bumper stickers who only answer when you call them "Wayner".

Another thing that's for sure is that right now in Sweden, every goddamned Torkel, Torsten and Ulf growing up in that god foresaken country is fantasizing about wearing a blue maple leaf on his chest. Exactly like they did in the seventies and eighties when Borje Salming was playing. Salming, who could give a hit as well as he could take a skate blade to the face, first established Maple Leaf pre-eminence in Sweden when the Leafs took a flyer on him in 1973. This was at a time when, to the average NHL'er, the proper phonetic way of saying the word "Swedish" was "Chicken Shit".
The Swedes knew this and it left a big impression on them. Look at footage of ABBA from 1979 during their one and only North American tour. The last date was in Toronto at Maple Leaf Gardens, and Benne or Binny or whoever the one with the beard was had on a Salming jersey. That wasn't just crowd ass kissing either as they had started the tour at the Northlands Colosseum in Edmonton, and I guarantee you the guy wasn't wearing a Cincinnati Stingers jersey, or whatever the fuck the Oilers were called back then.

The King of Kings himself was part of that worship. He grew up idolizing Salming and watching Leafs games with his father Tommy and his brothers. Mats carries on this legendary legacy in the land that brunette forgot. And don't let anyone tell you that people get all wet for Peter "My Feet Hurt" Forsberg. They don't. Compared to Mats, it's not even close. And I'll laugh in your fat face if you're stupid enough to bring up Daniel Alfredsson, whose major redeeming quality is that he looks like an ugly lesbian. Forsberg is major and everything, I don't want to take anything away from him, but don't ever forget who the Captain of Team Sweden was in 2006. Don't forget who dropped the pass at the blue line to Lidstrom for the gold medal winning goal. It was Sundin, and nothing but.

People are always yapping about how Mats is always the best player on the Leafs; that it's always up to him. Well guess what, sexy? No matter what team Mats plays on, it'd be up to him. He's so great, he could step in and win the Superbowl the same day he wins the pole for the Grand Prix of Monaco. And the only reason he doesn't, IS BECAUSE HE JUST DOESN'T WANT TO.

Sunday, March 2

Oilers blog added to He Score, He Shoot!

(image of Oilers logo here)

I'm writing this from someone else's house and they don't have a handy jpeg of the Oilers logo so I've chosen to put into action that age old adage (not a palindrome) of "a bunch of words paint one picture."  Use your imagination.  The way I do when I picture the Oilers in the playoffs.

Okay.  So first of all, I just learned that He Score, He Shoot is not just a Leafs blog.  I know I know, the colors of the logo, the tagline, heck, the vast vast vast majority of the content is Leafs-centric.  It makes me feel like less of a fan than Greener or Norte, not that this is a competition, though if it were I think we could agree it would be a tie.  It makes me self conscious about how passionate I am about the team I love.  Perhaps we as fans unconsciously take on the characteristics of our team?  Is it just that the Oilers are lazy or have lives?  Are the Leafs a way more passionate if somewhat lonely and sad group of players?  Well that doesn't matter, both teams have stunk most of the year.  The point is, I'm busy, get outta my face.

I wanted to write today about the Oilers last game.  I actually wanted to write on friday when I watched thursday's game on tivo but I wound up spending two hours reverse scouting the 2010-11 crop of NHL 08 draft picks for my Oilers who are, by the way, gunning for their third straight cup.  Here's the thing, the Oil played the Kings.  Two teams way at the bottom of the league, two teams that have lost an awful lot of games, two teams with twenty game death marches to another summer of thankless off season training. "Dead Teams Walking!"  And, it was an exciting game, back and forth, no defense whatsoever, end to end and lots of scoring. The hockey equivalent of a Rocky fight.  But it reminded me of why I heart the Oilers so.  Here is a team that has no chance at the playoffs and according to the various on ice player interviews at yesterdays skill competition they know it, but they came out and played their hearts out and hit and scored and tried.  Watching the Kings I saw the opposite.  These are two teams used to losing but the way they behaved when things weren't going their way was the polar opposite.  The Oilers go up early and the Kings disappear until a series of unlucky bounces puts the puck in the Oilers net.  Then they start to show up a little.  The Oilers go up again, the Kings disappear again.  I think its in these difficult times that you see the character of your team.  The Kings know a loss is coming as soon as the other team scores, the Oilers don't say die even though they aren't playing for anything.  That's all I want to see.  Effort.  At this point, with their first round lottery pick which you KNOW is gonna be #1 going to the Might Ucks (D omitted to imply swear) and their playoff hopes dashed and at last count 95% of their players injured they still bring it.  

I'm looking forward to tonight's game against the jackets.  I know it doesn't matter, they could win and it wouldn't make a difference, but I know they are going to try and I know they are going to put on a show.  The Jackets are a team they've had trouble with all year and I think it'll be fun to watch them try and switch that up.  That's all that matters.  I think the fans forget its just a game as much as the players do.  That its supposed to be fun.  Well it is fun right now.  And I can't wait.

Saturday, March 1


He Score, He Shoot's own Moose reminded me of something recently. No, not that Greek men invented it or that he needs Nair for Hair. He used two words, two words that sounded dirty. Not dirty in a salacious way. Two words that in the context Moose was using it became almost swearwords. Certainly distasteful and most definitely a sentence on its own: Alexandre Daigle.

The year before Daigle was drafted 1st overall he played 53 games for the Victoriaville Tigers and in those 53 games he scored 45 goals and added 92 assists. Add that to a respectful 85 pims and you have a clear number 1 overall pick. A can’t miss.
The 1993 draft, arguably, was as stacked as this year’s. And from the 26 first-round picks that year, 22 produced NHL careers. Names like Pronger, Kariya, Koivu, Deadmarsh. Bertuzzi. Our pick that year was 12th and we selected Kenny Jonsson (who was later traded to the Islanders (along with our first round pick in 1997 who turned out to be Roberto Luongo….gulp!!!!) for Wendel Clark and Mathieu Schneider.)
And right now that can’t miss, number 1 pick, plays in Davos in the Swiss League, where he is 3rd line player there, too.

(Incidentally in 1999 of the 28 first round selections only 12 had careers.)

In the 1990 draft, the Islanders, who chose 6th overall, chose Scott Scissons, a center from Saskatoon. I’m sure there were smiles all around the table that year. Glad handing each other saying that Scissons was going to be a major player in their rebuild. He played 2 games. Or how about this…Martin Brodeur was selected 20th overall and he wasn’t even the first goalie chosen. Taken 9 places before him - 9 places – was Trevor Kidd.

Aki Berg was a 3rd overall selection, Luc Robitaille, 171st.

Nicklas Lidstrom was taken 53rd overall. Brett Hull: 117th. Pavel Bure; 113th. Dominik Hasek; 207th. Pavol Demitra; 227th. Peter Bondra 156th.

Patrick Roy was a 3rd round pick at 51st overall. More telling was that he was the 3rd goalie chosen. In that same draft, at 23rd and 42nd respectively, were Goalies Steve Billington and Daryl Reaugh. Who? Exactly.

In 1996 with our 13th selection, 204th overall, we selected Tomas Kaberle. The 12 selections before him; Reggie Berg, Chirs Bogas, Dmitri Yakushin, Brandon Sugden, Peter Cava, Vladimir Antipov, Jason Sessa, Konstantin Kalmikov, Mike Lankshear, Francis Larivee and Marek Posmyk combined don’t have as many points as Kaberle had last week. That's last week (in italics.)
That year two D went 1st and 2nd in the draft. Chris Phillips and Andrei Zyuzin …I know I don’t even have to finish the thought for you all.

And Dougie…450 goals, 963 assists, 14 hundred and 14 points, good Kingston boy, Hockey Hall of Fame first ballot Dougie…134th.