Sunday, December 21


Save for some brief comments during our most recent podcast, I've ignored the Sean Avery issue, mostly by design. I've had to tread lightly on the topic because, as you may recall, after I wrote this Greener suspended ME for three weeks.

I don't have an opinion about what he did, or what his punishment should have been. Who cares? If anything, he should be suspended for that shitty delivery of an obviously pre-rehearsed joke. I mean, why wasn't Jere Lehtinen rehearsing lines with him before hand? Jerk.

But now that all the hearings are over and the punishments have been handed down, the most interesting aspect of all this is what becomes of Sean Avery's career? Will he ever play hockey again? Almost certainly. But there's reason to believe he may never be worth another big contract, or even the price of admission for the curious sideshow seekers. Why? Because a pre-condition of Sean Avery's return is that he no longer be Sean Avery. In agreeing to go to counseling for anger management, Avery made a concession to save his job, but it might just cost him his career.

In a recent article Avery spoke of the on-ice abuse he has taken for his interest in fashion. Big fucking deal. In a game where mental warfare can be a real tool, Sean Avery, and his therapy, have now given the other guy the upper hand. What do you think is gonna happen the first time he saunters up to Dion Phaneuf at a face-off?

Avery: "Hey Dion, how does my cum taste?"

Phaneuf: "Good, Sean...but how does that make you feel?"

Game over. How can a guy like that get under your skin, when you've got that ammo in your gun. I don't care how dumb hockey players are, those comebacks write themselves. Let me tell you something, if it were me, the first time I lined-up next to Avery I'd have a fucking Rorschach drawing stuffed under my jersey.

Rachel Hunter?
You see, Avery has made his living with pre-meditated trash talk that strikes at other players most vulnerable and personal points. Now the tables have turned. In the fallout created from Avery taking his act off-ice, he effectively bargained away his competitive advantage. The one thing that made Sean Avery a difference maker.

Now you can argue, that Avery doesn't have to change on the ice, so long as he keeps his mouth shut off it. The NHL has never criminalized trash talking, and Avery's past transgressions in that area have gone largely unpunished. Furthermore, you can argue that Avery will probably never embrace, or take seriously, the anger management part of his "punishment". He probably sees it as a means to an end, a necessary evil to put up with until he gets back to the NHL. Surely there's a desperate team (see: Tampa Bay Lightning) with a contract and a wink-wink, nod-nod agreement for him, right? But that's missing the point. Without his "edge" Sean Avery is just a slightly above average NHL hockey player. Certainly not a $4 million-per-year hockey player.

Sean Avery has no desire to win anything. A game, a Stanley Cup, even his teammates respect. He draws his satisfaction from being, as he puts it, the villain. His antics are the product of needing to fulfill a personal desire for attention. In the past, his teams got a residual benefit from his shtick when he got opposing players off their game. But now it's certainly debatable as to whether he can even do that anymore.

But hey, don't cry for Sean Avery. Even if his hockey career never returns him to the level of prosperity he once enjoyed, he's pretty savvy. He'll find a way to turn this into a second career.

I know we here at HS/HS were excited when his agent contacted us. You see, we've been longing to tap into the lucrative adult entertainment market, and with Sean out of work for a while, we figured this was the perfect opportunity. We're pleased to announce the release of HS/HS's first...cumming of age film.

It's here just in time for Christmas, and it makes a great "stocking stuffer." What, too much?

Thursday, December 18


NHL Trade Deadline Countdown; 75 days, 20 hours, 30 minutes, 18 seconds.

Tuesday, December 16

All Jeremy Williams Does Is Score: Leafs Sure to Get Rid of Him

In regards to Toronto's recent success at the NHL draft, history will have to work extra hard to smile upon the Leafs. I'm not saying that the "cupboard is bare" analogy is completely appropriate, but I will mention that under "Career Highlights", the Leafs draft day C.V. lists such illuminati as Kris Vernarsky, Karel Pilar and everybody's favorite (C? LW? RW? D?) Nicolas Corbeil.

Well, perhaps the ol' TML resume just got some much needed padding from Glenavon, Saskatchewan called Jeremy Williams.

Glenavon, with a population of 104- roughly the number of people in Ottawa who'll show up next year to watch the Senators- released young Williams in 2003 to the waiting hands of an organization which knows how to nurture and develop its homegrown talent. Wait, no. What I meant to say was an organization that knows how to trade its homegrown talent for Yanic Perreault.

So all Jeremy Williams does is score and look great in a Leafs uniform, two things of which only the former is really hard. He's taken 7 shots with the Leafs this season, and scored on 3 of them. For those of us out there who're obsessive compulsive, and really, who isn't, it breaks down like this:

To contrast and compare those numbers: If say, I were on the Leafs, my call up stat would look something like this:

Now, in all seriousness, which of us would YOU send down?!


Just a reminder for you to check out our newest podcast: HS/HS Radio 7, found conveniently one post below us. Moose worked really hard on this one, and by that, I mean he showed up at my house. Hey! Thanks for listening!

Sunday, December 14

HS/HS Radio 7! Number, No Longer Lucky

I once sent away for a VHS dub to be made of a Japanese version of "Planet of the Apes". I threw caution to the wind (and money down the internet), at some dubbing house in the Far East, with dreams of actors in pathetic gorilla suits driving Cadillac's, supported by poorly executed voice acting. Four months later a package came to my door looking like it'd been wrapped and addressed by those same simians. I excitedly opened it up, and popped it in. Yes, everything I'd lousily hoped for in this lousy movie was there...along with the internal tracking error in the dubbing process that caused the film to roll over on my screen once every ten seconds.

What does this have to do with anything? Well, presenting HS/HS Radio 7. Or, as you will come to know it, "The podcast those apes made that featured poor voice acting and rolled over every 10 seconds after I waited for 4 months!"

Click this space to hear the amazing advancements being made in primate communications. Barring that, then to listen to a hockey podcast.
Truth be known, I've been sitting here the whole time, waiting patiently every week for Moose to show up so we could record. I only just recently found out that he isn't just a lazy asshole, carelessly squandering the appreciation and goodwill of all of our readers. No. Moose has actually been on the television talk show circuit, giving hope and support to others with his affliction:

Brave, yes. But where would he be without the love and support of viewers like you?


Monday, December 8


That 5.5 magnitude tremor California residents felt on Friday night? That was me logging on to the HS/HS dashboard. I’m not gonna get into the details of my prolonged sabbatical, so let’s just say that I’m superstitious. When the Oilers went 4-0 to start the season, I hadn't written for three weeks, so I thought “fuck it,” a Stanley Cup is more important than the personal glory I get from this blog (in this movie “Glory” is played by Greener bitching me out for not writing). Unfortunately, on the way to an 82-0 season I figured out that superstition is a nebulous creature on the same level as religion: full of contradictions, top-heavy on blind faith, with a dash of God complex thrown in. So the Oilers actually play better when I’m sitting on the MIDDLE cushion of the couch? Interesting. Is it chicken soft tacos that snap a losing streak? At any rate, thanks to the Oilers modest three game winning streak, I’ve decided to do away with superstitions and start writing again. Wait, does that mean not being superstitious is my new superstition? Fuck.

Monday, December 1st - Leafs 3, Kings 1

Way back when Tomas Kaberle wasn’t being “McCabed” by the Toronto media, fans, and management alike, the Leafs paid a visit to the local arena to take on the Kings. Like any credible hockey journalist, I was there to cover it for HS/HS. Greener came along to destroy that credibility and generally make a complete ass out of himself. Here’s some of the highlights:


- I arrive at the rink to find Greener shouting things like “I love you, Fingy!” and waxing poetic about a time when Jason Blake was actually a man. Then suddenly, as Kaberle skates by, Greener becomes THAT guy. Yup, bang-on-glass-guy. I wish I could explain it, but there’s some involuntary bodily reflex, triggered by a hockey player skating by, that prompts normal, intelligent, composed human beings to want to punch a pain of Plexiglass. Come to think of it, Greener is none of those things, so never mind.

First Period

- We settle into our seats in Row 6, behind the Leafs net, 'cos that's how we roll at HS/HS. Toskala looks sharp and ready to go.

Greener: “Here we go boys!”

Moose: “They need to get off to a good...” 1-0 Kings.

Greener: “We’re outta here.”

Second Period

- There wasn’t much to get excited about, so Greener and Jeff Finger decide to rally the troops with a fight. Finger’s scrap with Derek Armstrong unleashes the inner-Domi in Greener who serenades sections 114 and 115 with some “you went down” hand gestures, then calls for the championship belt. That bit of lunacy apparently catches the attention of Leafs TV reporter Paul Hendrick, who is standing a few feet to our right.

- After a big Leafs penalty kill to end the period, Hendrick pulls Greener aside to tell us to watch how hard the Leafs will come out to begin the 3rd period.
- The Leafs pop two quick ones to begin the 3rd, which prompts Hendrick to turn to us and mouth, “I told you!” Simultaneously, he is met with nods and “you-the-man” finger points from us. We agree to meet for hookers and blow after the game.

- Greener’s cell phone rings with a call from an unknown Toronto number. HS/HS has been unmasked! It’s his cousin telling him we are on Leafs TV. I’m not going to tell you at what point during the period this occurs, but needless to say, I’m the good looking one.
- The Leafs add an empty net goal for a satisfying 3-1 win.


- While waiting for some friends out on the concourse, Greener spots a girl with a hand-knitted Leafs scarf, which he compliments her on. Upon closer inspection, he realizes it’s an homage-to-Kyle Wellwood scarf. He then uses it to wipe the gushing bile from his mouth.

- Greener thanks me profusely for the tickets, which I plan to hold over his head at every possible chance. “Remember when I bought you those Leafs tickets?” has a shelf-life of at least 2-3 years.

Friday, December 5th - Oilers 5, Kings 4 (SO).

The Edmonton Oilers strolled into town on Friday, looking like a team beginning to pull itself out of a long funk. Guys not named 'Hemsky' have finally started to find their game (Gilbert, Cogliano, Horcoff, Penner, Pouliot) and they even packed a little Rob Schremp to bring with them on the trip. This just in folks, Rob Schremp finally looks like an NHL hockey player. It’s been a Bataan-like road for Schremp’s game to evolve, but it lo oks like he’s close to sticking in the show.


- Greener is in fine form, yammering on about how the “ridiculously handsome” Sheldon Souray is totally eyeing him every time he skates by (he was looking at me).

- After warm-ups Greener offers to “repay” me for the hockey tickets by buying me a fucking Happy Meal. Never has a meal been more inappropriately named, as Greener does his best Ralph Furley imitation when they tell him it’ll be $22 for the two of us. Breathe, Greener, breathe.

- Back at our seats, a little small talk with broadcasting legend, Gene Principe, is interrupted by some 12 year-old kid with a pituitary problem who begins to taunt me with strange facial and hand gestures. I smile and pat him on the back of his 'Gretzky' Kings jersey. After all, the kid is just having fun.

First Period

- The Oil get off to a great start against something called Erik Ersberg. I think the Kings breed a clone army of bad goaltenders in a lab underneath Staples Center, and trot a new one out under a different name every so often.

- I look over at the young kid to see he's still taunting me despite his team taking an infernal ass beating. You gotta admire that.

- Apparently news has leaked that HS/HS is in the house again, as Greener and I make our second national television appearance in 5 days. This time on a Fox Sports affiliate, showing us celebrating following an Oiler goal. Regrettably, we did not make it on Kiss-Cam.

3-0 Oilers after one.

Second Period

- Ersberg is replaced by #432887, also known as “Jason LaBarbera”.

- Apparently some faulty wiring has caused this one to go rogue, because "LaBarbera" plays like Patrick Roy, and the Kings storm the Oilers net for much of the period to take a 4-3 lead.

- You ever notice when home fans notice the enemy among them, they cheer a bit louder and more directionally? Yeah, let’s just say the witty barbs were coming fast and furious. I mean seriously, “Alice” Hemsky = hilarious. Everyone knows his name is Ales.

- Out on the concourse, the glandular freak, buoyed by his teams 4-3 lead, has taken to taunting me again. This time, I make a throat slitting motion and say “You’re dead.” He looks genuinely scared. He doesn’t know I’m kidding. Which of course I am. I carry around a garrote, not a blade. So it would be more of a strangling motion, than slitting.

Third Period

- Hemsky takes charge and proceeds to embarrass a couple of Kings defencemen, leading to a Dustin Penner tap-in goal. 4-4 tie.

- Shootout

With the shootout tied at 1-1, Hemsky is the final shooter. A beautiful deke and high backhand makes LaBarbera look silly, and my mouth run. I firmly suggest that this would be a good time for everyone in the building to return to their place of residence, as “Alice” has just scored the game winner. Several verbal daggers are thrown my way, but all ends well and the child lives.

It's been fun. As long as this lucky "posting" thing works out, I'll be back.

Monday, December 1

Hooray for 2008: Obama Wins, Leafs Come to L.A.

There are those critics of Gary Bettman out there who criticize, among other things, his administration, his policies, his beliefs, his hair, his voice, and his height. I am one of them. But one thing's for certain with with our Gare, is that he believes that NHL hockey should be played anywhere you can find a palm tree. And since I live a stubby arms length away from one (or ten), that means that tonight, I will be sitting the distance of one dreamy thought balloon filled with "sighs" away from the Toronto Maple Leafs.

This is becoming a not uncommon occurrence as it also happened last year, but one I will never get used to. Last years effort was a stellar one, and not at all marred by the fact that the Leafs goalie at the time, someone named "A. Raycroft" let in 4 of the softest goals since any scored by Ryan O'Byrne. OK, that part was a phenomenal drag, but the feeling of being so far from your home rink and seeing 10,000 other people wearing Leafs sweaters more than made up for it. There's an amazing sense of camaraderie to that, and as I said last year:

When grown men are giving smiling acknowledgment to each other in the bathroom, you know it's either because you each have a Leafs jersey on, or you're both cruising for anonymous gay sex. This time, it was the former.
Yes, I did just quote myself, but only because I couldn't think of anything funnier. Or truer.

Hockey in L.A. is a fantastic experience, and one that I've invited lots of you to come out and partake in with me. Out here, they really make a hockey game an adventure for the whole family. Here's a snapshot I took at Staples Center last year:

Ha ha, don't worry guys, they weren't too cold up there, it's warm here all the time! And speaking of warm, those two sold the best soft pretzels this carb-lover's ever tasted! Thanks ladies!

On a side note, Moose and I spent Sunday afternoon as the podcast guests of the great Kings blog A Queen Among Kings. The Queen herself, Connie- taking time away from turning the world on with her smile- humored us for two hours, nodding patiently while pretending she didn't think she knew way, way more about hockey than us. Did I say us? I meant me. My main contribution was, I set up the mic. Moose's, was that he let us in his house. So check out the newest QaK recording, not to mention the rest that she and her non-sexual partner Marie have made.

So watch the game tonight everybody, and look out for me. I'll be the guy against the glass totally sprung, wearing his bathrobe. Just like last year. I know, I know, boring right? Moose will be with me, trying not to look bored. Scratch that. Looking bored, and telling me again why Brian Burke sucks. While he's doing that, at that very moment, I will be sprung, in my bathrobe, watching the Toronto Maple Leafs! Wish us all luck!