NORTE: Dispatch; this desk. Time; well…right now really. One minute ago I was playing air synthesizer to an Electric Light Orchestra song. A minute before that I was I was thinking that I wished I could breakdance. 28 seconds before that I was thinking about Breakdancing. Three hours ago, I put on a belt. At around noon, I took a pee pee. Right before that though, I thought that I should…that I would…at some point today and just for the record, regarding my all history dream team, write down their stats. Their best stats from their beast season. Pure numbers. Like the Dewey decimal but far less interesting. So here it is: carry the one bitches. Carry the one.
NORTE: Dispatch. This desk. I’m wearing a pink shirt.
1988 was a leap year. It was also the same year that the Soviet Union began its program of economic restructuring, Perestroika, with legistration initiated by Premier Gorbachev. Also that year we were struck by the tragedy in Taiwan when President Chiang Ching-kuo suddenly died in Taipei. But secretly and guiltily happy for ingoing Vice-President Lee Teng-hui. That year even God was shocked when on his television show in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, televangelist Jimmy Swaggart confessed to an unspecified sin. It was later revealed to be an affair with a prostitute named Debra Murphee. Said liaison making Swaggart leave the pulpit. Temporarily.
And of course who could forget that at the same time The Great Seto Bridge was opening to traffic in Japan, the Oscars were being swept by Bernardo Bertolucci and his Last Emperor.
On a sadder note: Amazing Spiderman #300 was released that year. It featured Spiderman’s first fight with his arch-nemesis Venom or Eddie Brock.
But the most memorable. Certainly the most tragic, much much sadder them the death of thousands of protestors in Burma, now known as Myanmar during anti-government demonstrations. Was the news that broke the morning of August 9 1988.
I was in a Shoppers Drug Mart shoplifting a bottle of Paco Rabanne cologne when I caught the front page of the paper. The crumpled tissue, bloodshot eyes, Slavic nose, wardrobe by Alexander Julian. I promised Mess I wouldn’t do this: Wayne Gretzky, fancy dresser, hometown boy, corporate shill, greatest hockey player ever. That’s ever, bitches. Ever. Traded to the LA KINGS. I felt like I got kicked in the nuts. And I knew, even then, that I would never forget that moment.
More than a few fans rejoiced yesterday when Assistant Coach Craig Simpson decided to return to the broadcast booth with Hockey Night In Canada. The man who was universally blamed for the Oilers' inept power-play last season, now becomes the second best broadcaster in his family, behind his sister Christine. In truth, Simpson took too much of the blame for the PP woes and got none of the credit for the PK, which was ranked #1 or #2 in the league for the majority of the season. The Oilers have started the search for a new Assistant Coach whose primary job will be to master the phrase "Hemsky to Souray."
One of my lasting memories of Craig Simpson as a player came during the 1988 Stanley Cup Finals. With the Oilers leading the series 3-0 but trailing the Boston Bruins 3-2 in Game 4, Simpson scored to tie the game just moments before the famous power failure in Boston Garden. Because the score was tied, the game was called and the series switched back to Edmonton where the Oilers were able to complete the 'five game sweep' on home ice.
- "He's Ricci Ugly"
After careful calculations, I've determined that I think about the Edmonton Oilers 37% of the time I'm awake. With that kind of quantity, you've got to surrender some quality. Today I was thinking about who the worst Edmonton Oiler of all-time was. I'm pretty sure it was Gord Mark. Playing just 30 games from 1993-95, Mark impersonated an orange cone on the blueline, and bore a striking resemblance to the character 'Sloth' from the movie "Goonies" (not to be confused with the character 'Chunk', from whom you should never take legal advice, lest you end up 'blogging' for a career).
- Glenn Anderson
On several occasions I've had conversations with people (okay, Greener) who seem to think the players of today are much better than past generations simply on the basis of athleticism. This usually leads to Greener embarrassing himself by talking in inferences about the 80's Oilers, which he never saw play because he was too busy walking the streets of Soho in his beret, and painting "Chinese Money." But I digress. If there is anyone out there who thinks those Oilers couldn't stick with the Ovechkin's and Crosby's of today, I give you Glenn Anderson. Skilled, fearless, speed to burn and more jam than this.
It's a crime that this man is not in the Hall of Fame:
NORTE: Dispatch; this desk. It's Wednesday and that stabbing pain from yesterday has now moved from my neck to my pancreas. Norte is the name, please don't wear it out.
(Pause for applause)
Today I was walking with my 22 month old son and he and I were chatting. I must tell you that we were also dressed exactly the same; black low top converse, army fatigue shorts, ironic t shirts. We knew we looked good. We were discussing who the all time greatest guitar player ever was. We were agreeing to disagree, realizing that ones man's Eddie Van Halen is another man's Yngwie Malmsteen, when one of us…I wont mention who, (me), brought up the idea of the all history dream team.And before you go and bastardize Abbot and Costello and say The Who's Pete Townsend's on first…let me tell you that we are no longer talking about guitar players…we're talking about the NHL here bitches. That's the National Hockey League, national.
The bigs.
At one point during the conversation my son fell asleep. I continued walking with him of course. Cos seriously no matter how hard I shake him, he just won't wake up. (Just in case you didn't know…that was a physical abuse joke at my own expense.) Regardless…as we strolled past the discount nail salons and sex shops, amid the clutter that's exactly the same in every city on earth, I began to amass my dream team. A few times I lost track and began to wonder just how many sex shops are needed on one city block….because let me tell you…I walked past a lot of them. Also, no pun intended but, there is a huge market in rubber penises. If I had a lot of money, that's what I would invest in, rubber penis production. So amid the sexy accoutrement in the windows as we strolled past, the lines began forming in my head. My only proviso was that they had to play their actual positions. Of course the names started coming at me. And let's face it; some names are more obvious than others. To take a page from the sex shops, Gretzky, for example, would be handcuffs. Mink lined. Michel Goulet on the other hand, as a selection, would be Nipple Clamps. I mean he had a moustache, didn't he? Marcel Dionne would be anal beads: small ones. I won't even get into the Pocket Rocket. Regardless.
My first line would consist of…on left wing, Bobby Hull. I heard he would practice in the off season by shooting pucks made of iron.
On center: It's Gretzky. No two ways about it. The greatest. Put the word in italics. The greatest.
On right wing. Gordie Howe. Would you really want to follow the puck into the corner with Gordie fucking Howe?
My second line (which I have dubbed The French Connection line) consists of…on left wing: Mr. nipple clamps himself, free moustache ride Michel Goulet.
Center: Mario Lemieux. Another obvious choice I know…he's like Gretzky. A set of handcuffs….pardon me, les handcuff.
Right Wing: The Flower, Guy Lefleur. Two minute for looking so good.Are you kidding me….him coming down the wing, sans helmet, his gorgeous toupee super glued down. That summa-ma-bitch can give you a knuckle sandwich, a Stanley Cup ring on every finger.
Third line: Sergio Momesso…no…just kidding. Hey right here I would love to say Jari Kurri…cos I am so needy that I want Moose to like me. But since they have to play their actual positions…I'll say Frank Mahovlich.
Centered by the Trashman! Or is it trashcan…? No it's the trashman. For all Esposito did during the summit series alone. Up to, and including this:
Right Wing. Mike Bossy. For some reason I feel sorry for Mike Bossy. But he was amazing. Almost as good, in the early 80's with that Titan stick, as Gretzky. I heard he was a chain smoker and smoked between periods. That's kinda awesome. Mike Bossy at the smoking door.
The 4th line: Look a dream fourth line left wing would be Gilbert Perrault or Sittler…fuck Ron Francis, Adam Oates (who I think is underrated) but…it's gotta be a true left winger. I have to go with Gary Roberts here.There are better scoring left wingers but I'm going with Roberts. Centered by another guy I feel sorry for. Drafted number 2 behind Lafleur. Marcel Dionne. The man literally was the top of a hockey trophy tall. I heard he collects everything he can find from mid 20th Century Danish designer Børge Mogensen.
Right wing…I really really wanted to put Mike Gartner here…another choice could be Jagr. But I am going with Maurice Richard.
On defense: 1. LD Number 4, Bobby Orr. RD Number 7, Paul Coffey
2nd. LD, Mr. Raymond Bourque. RD. Dennis Potvin.
3rd . LD, Big Bird, Larry Robinson. I heard that when the Canadiens won the Stanley Cup in 76 -77. They were invited to meet then President Gerald Ford…and Robinson wore a brown tuxedo. He also had a moustache.Beside him I have to go with my hometown boy. I have one word for you Borje!
4th line: Doug Harvey and Niklas Lidstrom.
Goalies. If this was based on who had the wickedest mask…it would be Mike Palmateer hands down. Sadly we have to expand the criteria…so I am going to go with Martin Brodeur and Pat Roy.
In the 1990's I remember once seeing an almost comically overweight man wearing a t-shirt, Christo sized, that said: I MAY BE FAT BUT YOU’RE UGLY AND I CAN DIET.
I've never forgotten him or his shirt, which used a complete bolt of fabric to state, louder than anything else I’ve ever seen ironed-on, that this man was happy or at least satisfied with mediocrity.
There is something special about being satisfied with mediocrity and by special I mean the way fish served in restaurants on Monday becomes Friday's Lunch Special special. And by that I am not suggesting that mediocrity is a strictly piscine concern. Rather that, like 5 day old salmon, it stinks.
GLOVE, SMELL THE
Minus the fact that not accepting the middle of the road usually means you get labeled a troublemaker and a bad influence from an early age, I think in a strictly hockey schematic, not accepting mediocrity is precisely what separates the bandwagon from the jumpers. As one of the post-67 Generation I’ve been force-fed mediocrity like an ass-sandwich my whole life. And an ass-sandwich, no matter how you slice it, still tastes of ass.
As a Leaf fan, it's MLSE (the worse acronym to hit Toronto since SARS) that are the terrible lunch ladies serving us this current steaming bowl. Let me tell you, even a mountain of salt can’t make Jonus Hoglund, for example, taste anything other than what he was: canned potatoes. In a purely Dickensian way, let me say to MLSE, "Please sirs, I don’t want some more".
The Leafs remind me of the James Bond franchise: while they were once Sean Connery, right now they're Timothy Dalton, and even the theme song is crappy. The last time they were any real threat was 93, and that team was like a mid-period Roger Moore – a little older, surprisingly good but a little too close to ridiculously lapelled jackets and leathery skin for my liking. Of course in that one Kerry Fraser stars as the villain allowing Gretzky to basically perform a bris on Dougie. My wrath is still incurred on that one; I have keyed that man’s hairdo a thousand times in my head.
I've loved this team my entire post '67 life, and doing that has left me eating more crow than Lance Armstrong. But I mean, what are you gonna do? Watch curling? A sport whose only cultural significance is that it’s the only time you’ll ever feel comfortable hearing the word "H-aaaarrrdddd!" screamed on television while sitting with your Grandma.
Ahhh, Moose and Norte, I wouldn't call them "friends" so much as I'd call them "two individuals I co-write a hockey blog with". Two men who are interesting in their own right, just not to me.
Here are 5 hockey related moments I've shared with these, people:
5. Moose Ruins New Jersey
Now this doesn't mean that he ruined the state of New Jersey, although he could. He just f'd a new jersey I got. The same jersey as his, as well. We had our team jersey's made up, and while practicing, he hooked me from behind, and scratched a 5.5 Modano swath across the logo. Hey thanks pal! Great work!
4. Playing NHL '03 With Norte.
Visiting him, and playing an ancient version of the NHL series while his wife and baby slept behind us. Trying not to freak out and wake everyone up as we scored genius goals. Trust me, we scored genius goals.
3. Moose Misses Primary Assist on Championship Goal
Just for fun Moose and I joined a team a guy he works with has. They needed help and we gave it to them, getting them to the final. Overtime in the last game, I'm on the back door and Moose sends a cross crease pass to me, right on the tape...that is if I had tape on my ankles. I whiff in vain at the "pass" as it goes by me into the corner. I turn around, dig it out, and send a bullet right on the stick of my winger who taps it in for the championship winning goal. We didn't talk the whole way home.
2. Greener/Norte go to HHOF
We went to the HHOF in Toronto and had a fantastic time. One of the highlights in a day full of them was when we did the goalie simulation thing where you have to stop five pucks "shot" at you by Gretzky and Messier on the fly. We told the guy to set it to All-Star. I did well, saving 4/5. Norte ruled by scoring a perfect 5. I have pictures of it which are a little blurry because I was laughing so much.
1. Giving Moose a Concussion
Moose actually has skill in hockey, and occasionally makes a good play. After one of these moments, he came to the bench and I tapped him on the top of the helmet in praise. Suddenly Moose goes out and it looks like the Red Wings bench when they had to V-Fib Jiri Fischer. He played the rest of the game in a haze and seemed mad at me for hurting him on purpose. My feelings about it were, since I was getting credit for it, I wish I had.
So there's my top 5. Looking back, Norte is a rad guy and is hilarious fun to hang out with. Moose lives near me and plays Defense.
NORTE: Dispatch, this desk. Its Tuesday I think and its raining out. I have a terrible pain right where my neck meets my back.It kind of feels like I am being stabbed with a hot fork. I am in a pair of shorts and an old David Bowie t shirt and the air conditioning is on…so I am freezing cold. The big toe of my right foot especially. I need a pair of mittens and some hot shots. Perhaps I should drink something with little marshmallows in it.I really should write about The Toronto Maple Leafs version 8.0. You know…what line combos I think are going to happen. The PP, the PK.Who shot J.R? PJ Harvey, BJ and the Bear. You know…
I worked it all out on my Playstation this afternoon so I am ready to go. I will say that I think we'll see Blake play with Wellwood more than we may realize. I have a sneaking suspicion that this year will be his coming out party. (Wellwood's) At the end of the season last year...Mats looked a little tired to me. I won’t lie and say that doesn't concern me. I suspect less minutes from Mats. Quality minutes absolutely…but less. I think that it’s pretty important to sign Peca. Pay him much less and kick in incentives based on games played. Etc. The Lindros deal. But I think we need him to quarterback the power play. With him in the mix. What really excites me are the power play lines that can happen. You have the always awesome Kaberle. Who you know is going to have a great season. He has, in my opinion, the best first pass in the league.McCabe was average at best last year. And after that disappointment...he has something to prove. I don’t like playing any kind of what if game. But what if Antropov actually lived up to expectations.I have a terrible memory….I have imbibed in my life…I will admit.I have killed off lots of brain cells illicitly but, last year, didn’t Antropov impress me? Like he played tough and mean at times. And Poni? Poni always gets better. Let me leave at this: Stay Golden Poni boy. Stay Golden.
I think our third line is one of the best of recent memory (or maybe not cos I have a terrible memory…did I mention that already?) I am willing to bet that they’re going to be a terrific line to watch. Can’t wait to hear what nickname the glorious Joe Bowen gives them.And no matter what his bumper sticker inspired turn of phrase is, I will tell you this. Bell and Kilger will murder guys this year. Literally. I think they will both be charged with first degree murder this year. That’s fact, ladies and gentlemen (and when I say ladies and gentlemen…I really mean gentlemen because I have a feeling He Scores, He Shoots will become the Rush concert of Blogs. Because really…lets face it fellas…there’s nothing more our ladies love then to read about hockey. Am I right? Is this mike on?)
A WHO'S WHO OF WHO WASN'T BUT DID SOMETHING THAT WAS
Brad Winchester
The big winger out of the University of Wisconsin was Edmonton's 2nd round pick (35th overall) in 2000, but wasn't offered a contract following a disappointing '06-07 season. Winchester was a source of great frustration for both the coaching staff and Oiler fans alike. At 6'5", 230 lbs, he had great size, could skate, handle the puck and owned a wicked wrist shot. Despite all his physical tools, Winchester never found the commitment and consistency to make an impact on a nightly basis. But during the run to the Stanley Cup Finals in 2006, Winchester would write himself a small chapter in Oiler lore in the first round series against the Detroit Red Wings.
With the Oilers down 1-0 in the series, Winchester was inserted into the lineup for Game 2 (his playoff debut) and promptly scored the game winning goal in a 3-2 victory. After splitting the next two games, the series returned to Detroit tied 2-2. It would be here that Brad Winchester would cement his Oiler legacy...during the national anthem. Following the American anthem, Red Wings fans, as is the long standing tradition, lobbed an Octopus onto the ice in the Oilers zone, but 'Winny' was ready for it. Instead of waiting for the Joe Louis attendants to clean it off the ice (and incite the crowd by whirling it over their head), Winchester, with a plastic bag on his hand under his glove, picked up the greasy cephalopod and took it to the Oiler bench, where his teammates erupted. It was all at once a symbol of defiance and self-confidence in the face of a supposedly superior team, and a moment that loosened the bench and sent them on their way. The Oilers went on to win the game and the series two nights later. An indelible image...
Mike Bishai
The Edmonton-born Bishai was a Fernando Pisani-esque "feel good" story - save for the playoff heroics, citywide admiration and multi-million dollar contract. The un-drafted forward worked his way through the U.S. college ranks, earned himself a contract with the Oilers AHL affiliate, and got a 14 game taste of the NHL during the 2003-04 season. While he never made much of an impact on the scoresheet, he was involved in one of the most bizarre on-ice brawls in Oiler history:
(WARNING: Ty Conklin is in this video)
Petr Klima
This is likely to be the first of many posts about Petr Klima on this blog. He's something of a cult figure here at HS,HS. How could he not be? Look at him here..battling the forces of inertia as that helmet drags his head ice-ward; that stick blade taped in his legendary barbershop pole design.
Klima was a flashy, hard drinkin' Czech, who teased you with his skill and showed future generations of Czech hockey players how to rock the Eastern European metal hair. Despite a 40-goal season in '90-91, Klima's Oiler days mirrored his career as a whole. His lazy, selfish play and off-ice problems eventually earned him a ticket to the next stop.
But Klima's contribution to Oiler history is anything but forgettable. Game 1, 1990 Stanley Cup Finals. Triple OT. After being benched for nearly the entire game, Coach John Muckler throws the dog a bone...woof!
At this point in the non hockey season, the custom dictates that fans take their teams' roster (so far), and put together what they believe will be the lines for the season. So, as I've already listened to the complete archived "Leafs Lunch" with Waters and Marek, this is what I've done.
L1: Blake Sundin Tucker
L2: Poni Wellwood Antropov
L3: Bell Steen Kilger
L4: Battaglia Stajan Devereaux
D1: Kaberle Colliacovo
D2: McCabe Kubina
D3: White Gill
The first line is pretty obvious. As the Leafs big free agent signing, there is no way Blake starts anywhere but besides Mats. Not to mention people are always whining about how the Leafs have never given Mats anyone to play with, (I guess A. Mogilny and G. Roberts don't count), so finally here's a guy that can get it from, and give it to him. Darcy creates space for the two of them, although Blake has his share of sandpaper, so Darc can focus a little more on scoring.
Poni and Antropov showed chemistry last year, so I've kept them together, flanking Wellwood. I think Kyle will have a real breakout season this year. Given his playmaking and skating, he FOR SURE will play with Blake a lot, and Blake will score because of it.
Bell, Steen and Kilger. Taking a note from the incredibly effective checking line the Ducks had, Bell and Kilger will go out and hit everything they can, with Bell prepared to kick the shit out of anyone who needs it. Steen is so responsible and keeps developing his defensive game, although I have to say, if we sign Peca, he goes here in a second.
Bates, Boyd and Matt. I enjoyed every shift that Bates and Boyd had last year. I trusted them when they were out there, although I'd like to see Bates use his outside speed and take it hard to the net instead of doing that pull-up move he always does along the boards, but still. Stajan I like a lot, but we have a lot of centers, (Peca not included) and now he's got to go crazy to keep his spot on the team.
Tucker will move down, Blake will play with Wellwood. Ponikarovsky will move up as will Bell, but this is what I think we'll start the season with and for a while afterwards.
Monday, August 6
NORTE: I am Norte. I love hockey. You know how within groups of women, there is always the one fat friend? You know when they travel in their bunches, their packs? Indiscriminate number group of cute girls together, one…you know….what they call around my parts: big girl. Let me say that nobody loves a big girl more than me, you ask anyone. But you know how you always get the one fat one? In the hockey world that fat girl (who you better not go to bed with no matter how drunk you were) is the goalie. I am Norte. I love hockey and I am that fat girl.
I also think that goalies, like homosexuals and fat girls, have it in their genes (their jeans?). Goalies just know. From the first moment their eyes lay upon the sweet game…they know. They are a goalie. Now you may hear stories from other people telling you that the chubby kid was always the goalie. Sure its cos he couldn’t skate, his ankles couldn’t support the weight. And while I will admit to a certain proclivity of goalies being former fatties (present company included) a real goalie, a goalie born, has it in his blood like leukemia or alcoholism.
I am Norte. I love hockey. I am a goalie. My drink of choice, ladies and gentlemen, is the very excellent Toronto Maple Leafs. Who are, if you asked my humble opinion, the martini of the NHL. If you cut me open I bleed blue. That’s how deep that shit goes. It’s like politics; my father was a Leafs fan, I am a Leafs fan, my son will be a Leafs fan.
Quite frankly I have at times felt alarmed with my passion for this team. For example it’s the only time I have ever been violent. Watching Darcy Tucker demolish some mother fucker into the boards has brought me to my feet. Literally. Watching Tie Domi beat the shit out of guys could reduce me to Lord of the Pigs like cruelty. Yet violence like that on the street I really have no stomach for. I am a lover not a fighter….but I have been on many many occasions ready, willing and able to take one for my team. You are either with us or against us. Sure I respect other teams and even have a second favorite…and really second favorite is good. (Sarcastic voice) Really, really, it’s good and besides silver goes with your eyes…it really does. (Gently strokes hair and hums affectionately)
The part that’s always frightened me about my love of hockey was how its disappointments (remember I am a Leafs fan) how its many disappointments left me feeling crushed, empty. Akin to getting dumped by my girlfriend, which happened to me in both the Wendel Clark and Sundin years (twice). I don’t cry cos really I’m all cried out. I may be a pessimistic fan at times but they are my team and like Harold Ballard didn’t once say, “you will always take that bitch back.”
And you can go ahead and call me old fashioned but I am at an age before the dawn of mylar. When hockey cards were scrambled or played. We are from the same generation, you and me, if you know what I mean by play hockey cards. The knock down the cards leaned up against the wall game or flick it closest to the wall game. The word scramble makes me flinch to this day. And I truly feel sorry for the child that doesn’t know the beautiful summer sound of a hockey card in a spoke. And for those of you thinking it…a playing card just doesn’t sound the same. Come back in another 50 years and I will be saying the same thing only prefaced with a craggily voice and the phrase Back in my day…
My point to you is that I love hockey. I love hockey a lot.
What better way to start a hockey blog than not one, but two CODCO references, right? Well the old jokes are the best jokes, really, and that's no exception. Just a quick word from us: Hi! How are you? Welcome to "He Score, He Shoot!", a hockey blog! Bringing you the same basic information/speculation/overly compressed youtube videos as all the other hockey blogs except slightly funnier. You should hear how I'm saying slightly; very sarcastically, and slightly funnier than how you'd say it. If all comes through, there'll be 4 people writing on this; 2 Leafs lovers, and 2 Oilers lovers. We will be writing about our respective clubs, but not exclusively. We may write on a host of other topics, as we are very well rounded people. In no order, and obligating no one, here is a small list of actual things that interest the writers and MAY pop up sometime:
Surfing
Picasso
Alberta beef
Booing Gretzky at the Forum in '88
When we met Avery in a club in L.A. and asked him who he hated to play against the most
