"Recap" & Waylon Wednesday.

So, there was a game last night. Against the St. Louis Blues. No, we didn't watch it. Versus + dial-up internet at home = no dice for such games. But here's what we learned from monitoring the game summary and reading other people's recaps:

1. We earned a point last night because the game went to OT, and, eventually, a shootout. Commence celebrations in the form of nipple clamping and bukkake sandwiches.

2. According to The Triple Deke and The Production Line, Johan Franzen rocked a sweet mustache. And in addition to feeling distraught over missing the Mule's first game back since his 1,247-year-long stint on IR (no, seriously, doesn't it feel like it's been that long?), we're equally disturbed we missed out on that, as well. After all, TSO is your one-stop shop for all things mustache rides and dirty Sanchezes, which are a form of mustache, if you think about it. (Go ahead and think about it. You know you want to.)

3. Further according to TPL (in a guest post written by Chris Hollis of Motown Wings and The Obstructed View fame), Henrik Zetterberg should not be allowed in a shootout ever again. Not seeing the game last night, I can't judge his effort; however, he has not had a particularly strong year when it comes to shootouts. Ballin' B and I talked about this yesterday while we awaited the results of the riveting game summary during the shootout (refreshes every 30 seconds for your convenience). The last time I saw, his shootout success rate hovered somewhere in the early 30% range. Far be it for me to question seriously Babcock's judgment in selecting his shooters (oh, puh-leeze, like anybody takes this site seriously, anyway), but it does get frustrating to watch the same players fail to convert time and time again (ahem, Dan Cleary, during all the injuries, way back about 3+ weeks ago). Then again, how shitty would it be if Babcock replaced his star players with under-the-radar guys and still came up short? Six in one hand, half a dozen in the other. Shootouts suck; I have no problem watching other teams participate in them, but when it comes to the Wings, my heart sinks every time the OT clock winds down.

4. Jimmy Howard stopped 42 of 45 shots on goal last night, including the 5:00 of OT. Twenty of those shots were in the first period. The mind fucking reels.

5. Kris Draper's persistence as of late paid off last night in the form of scoring the first goal of the game.

Questions I have for people who caught the game:

1. How the fuck did Todd Bertuzzi manage to commit a penalty only 0:28 into the game? Did somebody urinate on his skates? Threaten to force him into a glass-bottom boat scenario? Taunt him with accusations of his mom smelling like cheese?

2. Brad May got into a fight. How did that work out?

And that's all I really want to know. No, seriously. We're going to adopt the motto of the drag queen/transvestite in Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil: "Two tears in a bucket, motherfuck it." The Wings take on the Sharks on Thursday. Go big or go...home? How does that work if they're already at home? I guess it's go big or leave home, in that case? Whatev. Our satellite is still jacked up (SNOWPOCALYPSE!--no, really, we now have 4+ feet of snow and counting...I'm 99% sure I'm going to build an igloo and live in it for free or else charge someone for all my construction labor), so you may get another fantastic recap like this one or one of our oh-so-awesome real recaps when we watch it and still have nothing productive to say. Gear down!

***

Let's get to the point with our Wednesday question. This one's been asked all over the blogosphere, plus we delved into it the other week in our Wednesday comments, but it's hard not to bring it up formally since we're only two days away from the Opening Ceremony:

Which men's ice hockey team do you hope wins Olympic gold?

This is a toughie for me; I've been all over the place with my loyalties. Obviously, I'm an American and would be proud of my home country for winning the gold, despite Patrick Kane's craterfaced presence on the team. (No, seriously, there are no cab rides involved in ferrying the players about Vancouver, right? Just checking. Don't embarrass the stars and stripes, assfuck, or you'll have a lot to answer for 'round these parts.) We've got Rafalski on the roster, plus players TSO likes in the form of Ryan Miller, Tim Thomas, Jonathan Quick, and Jack Johnson. On the other hand, we also have Brooks Orpik, who annoys us only because he plays for Pittsburgh, and Ryan Whitney, who plays for the Ducks and has a girl's last name. I'll be happy enough if Team USA nabs the gold, but I won't be surprised if they don't because the competition is stiff.

Like many of you, the only thing I care about regarding Team Canada is Stevie Y and Babcock. Other than that, the team at large makes me ralph. Sidney Crosby, Ryan Getzlaf (who may return from his injury for some of the games), Scott Niedermayer, Chris Pronger, Duncan Keith, Brent Seabrook, Corey Perry, and Dany Heatley? Words fail me. How are Canadians dealing with this level of code red douchiness? I know Olympic gold is more important to our neighbors to the north than sex, air, or water but...blehhhhhhhh.

Team Sweden is stacked with winners, never mind the controversial snub of one Johan Franzen. Despite the annoying Sedins' presence on the roster, it's damn near impossible to find any reason to dislike the blue-and-yellow rascals, considering how many Wings made the cut. The only thing is...they've already won the gold.

Other than being inherently biased toward Team USA, I'm rooting for Team Russia. Their roster is stacked with fantastic NHL-ers: Our own Pavel Datsyuk, plus Ovie, Semin, Kovalchuk, SNB, Nabokov, and Bryzgalov. The only downer is that Russian gold means Malkin and Gonchar benefit, which is a bonafide tragedy, but really, I would love to see Pasha with a gold medal.

In any event, there's obviously a lot to root for--and against--each particular "powerhouse" team. Any of the aforesaid four countries taking home top honors will bring some sort of happiness, as well as a teeny, tiny iota of strife, to our lives. One thing I think we can all agree on is hoping that Team Slovakia is a wash; Marian Hossa, Marian Gaborik, and Tomas Kopecky with a gold medal in their hands? I'd rather watch somebody sign my own death certificate.

And now, a little mood music...because nothing gets me fired up for Team America (fuck, yeah!) quite like Waylon:

Friday fun times and good stuff.

TSO's good pal saraneuie has graced our inbox with yet another example of her fantabulous photo-taking skills. This really needs no introduction, except I feel the need to tell Krononymous and Dena to take a seat if they haven't already. It's Sara's compilation of moments from Kronwall's first game back:

(If you click on the image, it will get bigger. [That's what she said.] No, but seriously, you can have a full-screen version of Kronner. Wait. Is that the sound of screensavers being updated all across the interwebs?)

Tonight, the Wings take on the Nashville Predators in Detroit. My apologies to the number of you who expressed your love for the Jordin(?!) Tootoo whistle at the Sommet Center. Maybe this will help to ease the pain:



Really, we started "dance dance assholes" on here as a lighthearted way to anticipate upcoming games; now it's simply a sweet distraction from the pain of everyday existence: Nashville is currently in 7th place in the Conference, with 61 points to our 59. It's imperative that the Wings wrap up a win in regulation. Not only will it help us in the standings, but it'll also set a good tone for the weekend, heading into a tough game in hell at Mellon Arena on Sunday. (Can we get a head count of how many people are excited to see Mike Milbury again? Anybody? Oh, come on, don't be shy.)

And since it's Friday, we're giving them out like candy. Here's another funny:



Let's go, Wings.

The one where I recap a game I didn't see

Why? Because we haven't done a great deal of writing around the holidays. The Scrappy Octopus is entitled to breaks, you know? AND the game was on Versus, so we were unable to watch (I'll save you another rant from me on the subject). So onward with my imaginary game recap!

Things I know happened:

Ville Leino said ridiculous shit and acted a fool. Oh, for shame that Mike Babcock, asking you to play hockey. Spoiled fucking baby. Does his contract have a clause which allows the contract to be voided for excessive baby crying?

The Wings lost 1-0 in OT.

Brad May won a fight! Good for him.

Jimmy played well. Steve Mason apparently played better.

The Blue Jackets, prior to the game, traded Jason Chimera for two guys who are terrible. We have watched a fair amount of Caps hockey around here. I cant really say what type of player Chimera is, but um, if he has a pulse, the Jackets made a bad trade.

This I simply assume happened:

Antoine Vermette brought an actual saddle and rode Homer.

Homer giggled like a child at said riding.

Ken Hitchcock stress ate four children.

Mike Commodore stripped down to his unmentionables and rolled around in money at the 7:29 mark of the second period.

Upon seeing the flowing mane of one Valtteri Filppula, 3/4 of the Blue Jackets team questioned their sexuality.

In closing, a 1-0 loss. Damn. That's all I got.

The other side of the coin...

So, we finally got the room situation worked out; thanks for your concerns, everybody. I did have a scrappy word brawl with the lady at the front desk, who didn't particularly care that we were out approximately $650 for the time being. The manager walked up just as I told the person that there was no way it was our problem that the hotel and Travelocity couldn't get their act together. Brian and I both work in customer-service-esque jobs, and there's no way either one of us would ever be allowed to double-charge a customer simply because our respective places of employment didn't receive payment from a third party. Ridiculous. Even more absurdly, this woman started yelling at us in the middle of the lobby. If I did that at my job, I would most likely be shit-canned.

The manager was super nice, though, and upgraded our room to a suite and gave us free lunch and dinner, so I'm pleased with the way it turned out on that end. She handled things very well once it all got out of hand. All in all, I guess what I learned for this experience is not to trust the people checking you in at hotels, even when you ask them specifically if your debit card is being swiped only for incidentals. Also, I learned that some people just suck at life. It was super cute--the woman who had the major attitude with us called our room after lunch (at 3:30) and said that she was supposed to get off work at 3:00, but she wanted to make sure we were settled in to our new room and that everything had worked out, and ordinarily, I would have felt bad putting someone out like that, but considering this entire ordeal wasted essentially our entire day, I didn't really give a fuck. We made sure to fold our clothes extra slowly.

***

The face transplant lady is on Oprah right now. I just upchucked my nachos.

***

And because this post is serving as the yin to my other post's angry yang, here are some things I did enjoy about the game last night:

1. Getting to see Jimmy Howard do what Brian and I call the "Beyonce Running Man" exercise in person. It's one thing that loses a little bit of its luster on television. We also have this really awesomely annoying habit of singing, "All the married Jimmys, all the married Jimmys" when he does it. Don't you feel just a teensy bit saddened that you didn't get to sit with us?

2. Dropping F-bombs ad nauseum and initiating all the children around me into the rough underworld of being scrappy. Hey, what can I say? Those little bastards got the Zamboni toys; maybe they should consider the evening a twofer: free gift AND free important life lesson. (Speaking of the Zamboni toy, I'm pleased that I was on so many people's minds last night; I really thought about snagging one, especially since the game was a wash. To be honest, I didn't see a lot of kids with them, which leads me to believe that maybe Mickey Redmond stole 2,497 of them to build a protective armada. Shhh, don't tell him they're not operative machines...)

3. Best moment ever: Brian and I left the game a little later, as we sat in our seats and waited for the crowd to dissipate a little bit before fighting our way out. Anyway, as we were leaving, we saw Murph up on his perch above the exit, so we yelled "Hey, Muuuuurph!" and he turned around and waved/pointed at us. I totally did the "We-Heart-You" (complete with the heart hand motion. Yes, TSO has mad love for Murph. And no, I am not in seventh grade.). It's in my top three most magical moments ever.

4. Second-best moment ever: Getting to chant, "Bullshit! Bullshit" after the non-goal. MUCH more cathartic than screaming it at my TV/dog/each other.

5. Henrik Zetterberg is amazing. We had really good seats last night, so it was awesome getting to watch him sorta up close. There's just no comparison between watching it in person and watching it on television. I'm not sure I'll be able to leave the Joe tomorrow night. They'll have to pry my cold, dead body away.

6. Todd Bertuzzi shaved, and it made me laugh when I saw him because I thought about how our buddies over at The Production Line prefer to call him Voldemort. Without the weird facial hair, he looks even more like someone from the otherworld.

7. I ran into a crazy St. Louis fan in the bathroom and told her I was in love with her blue wig. I need a red one.

8. I spent all my cash on beer at the game, and you would think that would be sad, but it's really not. It's the fulfillment of a goal: Last week, when I got part of my paycheck cashed, I said to my boss,"This is the money I'm going to get wasted on at the game next week." It really felt special, like all the hours and effort I had put into my job had finally amount to something. I think this is what some people may call "ambition".

9. I don't care that he's in St. Louis. I still love Ty Conklin, and I'm glad I got to see him play last night, although obviously, I'm unhappy with the outcome, and I wish he hadn't played nearly as well. I kept calling him "Conk Block", as I got drunker and drunker as the evening progressed, it kinda morphed into "Conk Blonck", which made me think of a conch shell, which made me wonder why I was talking about seashells, and then I got really confused and thought we were going to the beach.

10. We couldn't find anything to watch when we returned to the hotel room, so we turned FSD on and caught the replay of the game at the beginning of the third period. Here is a real conversation that transpired between Brian and me:

Me: "Wow, I can't believe I missed Kenny Rogers!"

[Moment of silence.]

Brian: "Ummm...you didn't miss it. You started singing it at the game. And you even put it a weird way, like, 'Oh, here's KennyRogersTheGambler,' like it was all one word."

Yiiiiiikes.

So, last night's game was not the best. I'm still stoked for tomorrow night and the craziness that will ensue due to the Ducks coming to town. You know how I feel about the Ducks. Gross. It's going to be so fucking fun!

P.S. I'm kinda surprised: I thought for sure that this guy or that guy would pin the shutout and/or Cleary injury on TSO's presence at the game or in the city of Detroit in general. Whew, dodged a bullet on that one...

I am ready to murder something.

There is so much I'm pissed off about right now:

1. What's worse than seeing the Wings lose? Seeing them get shut out in person.

2. What's worse than seeing the Wings get shut out in person? Seeing Dan Cleary get injured in person and finding out the day after that he'll be out for up to four weeks with a separated shoulder (via Bruce MacLeod's Twitter). What. The. Fuck. This, of course, means that The Scrappy Octopus's new bonercrush, Ville Leino, returns gallantly to the lineup tomorrow night against the Anaheim Ducks. At least the booing of the opposing team will drown out my booing of Mr. Leino himself. Just kidding. I'll probably just throw my panties at him or something since I'm now so in love with him. (Ah, it really is just a distraction, typing this bullshit, from what really blows ass: Dan Cleary is the 927th Red Wing to be injured this season. At this rate, I expect to walk away from the game tomorrow night with a pickaxe shoved up my ass or something.)

3. This isn't necessarily worse than Items 1 and 2, but we're getting fucked over by our hotel; as of 11 a.m. today, when we were getting ready to leave to grab some lunch, we discovered that the hotel had charged us approximately 133% of the cost of our stay here, in addition to the charge we'd already incurred by Travelocity for booking the stay in the first place. The person at the front desk explained that the hotel hadn't gotten paid by Travelocity; how this is our fucking problem, I do not know. But it really is a great policy, isn't it? You can imagine that being double-charged for a six-night stay at a hotel in Detroit is not an inexpensive affair. Needless to say, we pitched a fit, and the person at the front desk has been "on the phone" with Travelocity, attempting to sort out the ordeal, for approximately two hours now. Fuck. This.

Oh, and if anybody's curious, we're staying at the Omni Riverfront. Would have highly recommended it until now.

Stars @ Wings tonight.

So, since your Scrappy Octopi were tripping off quaaludes, tryptophan and bourbon, we were too lazy to write a recap for Saturday night's game. First things first:

1. Woo! We won!

2. Homer broke the scoring drought with the first goal of the game.

3. Fucking Todd Bertuzzi! He done went and won us a shootout. That old so-and-so...

4. What in the hell is this universe coming to?



5. And, most importantly, why doesn't Bert still rock this hair? (Dibs for-ev-a.)

***

Wings take on the Dallas Stars at home tonight. Let's hope this meeting goes better than the last.

***

I hope everyone's holiday weekend was spectacular. Mine was ok. I know I am quite possibly the only Wings fan who also cares about U.Va. football (whatever, I went there), but since The Scrappy Octopus is a promoter of all things ridiculous, I have to share this. My Hoos went 3-9 this year, colossally losing the most important game of the season to the fucking horrible team from Blacksburg on Saturday (I'm still crying; I should be used to it, but I'm not, so shut up). Anyway, as predicted (and hoped for, by fans such as myself), coach Al Groh was fired yesterday.

Anyway, at his press conference announcing his getting canned, Groh reads a poem called "The Guy in the Glass." He then goes on to add his own coda: "When I visited the guy in the glass, I saw that he's a guy of commitment, of integrity, of dependability and accountability. He's loyal. His spirit is indomitable. And he is caring and loving. I'm sure I will always call the guy in the glass a friend."

Can you imagine how you would feel if that was your school's head coach, reciting some bullshit like that following his abysmal performance over the last nine years? If that wouldn't make you want to fly, head first, into a gas oven, I'm not sure you're really a true fan.

***

GO WINGS.

About last night

Watching that game sucked. And no, I don't want to talk about it.

Let's hope things turn around in St. Louis tonight. A few brief notes (I guess I do want to talk about it):

1. Ozzie played fine, but playing in front of this team, Ozzie needs to be super-human playoff Ozzie. And thats unfortunate.

2. Ville Leino does nothing well. At all. Unless you count not skating fast a skill. If so, sign me up.

3. Sure, you can get 40 shots on goal, but if 35 of them are harmless, does it really matter?

Bleh. Here come the Blues. Let's turn it around tonight, eh?

Thrashers @ Wings tonight.

Happy Thanksgiving, y'all. I apologize to all three of The Scrappy Octopus's loyal readers for the sporadic posting over the past week or so; as Brian noted, I've been feeling under the weather (NOT dysentery, however, thank you very much--it was actually cholera, contracted somewhere between Independence and Chimney Rock; I didn't stand a chance in the wagon). So, this week, it's been no work for me, lounging about in my PJs with my awesome dog Lucy, enriching my brain with the likes of The Maury Show and conspiracy-theory bullshit on ID. (Have you WATCHED that channel?! The mind reels...) I emerged from my lair to write the piece of Georges Laraque the other day because I was too pissed to give lie detector results and paternity testing the full attention they deserve, but other than that, I've been taking it easy.

Speaking of Laraque, he's suspended for five games. Big fucking deal. I wish the NHL would institute a rule for people guilty of dirty hits to be suspended for the duration of time that their victims are sidelined due to injury. Or, I wish Brad May would just kick his ass. Whatever's easier.

So, I'm not going to talk about Monday's game against Nashville, not really because it sucked, but mostly because I didn't get to see it because Versus sucks ass, and I'm even more pissed because I didn't get to see Darren McCarty do his thing. It's kind of a silent protest. It's supposed to accomplish...something. I read about it once. Trust me; it'll work.

So, tonight, the Wings take on the Atlanta Thrashers. First things first: Can somebody please tell me what in the fuck their logo means?



It's almost Sphinx-like in its enigmatic nature, not to mention the fact that the head looks like it belongs to a creature different from the one to which it is attached. It's as if Michaelangelo masterfully drew the head of an eagle...and ran out of creativity and talent, and instead, crafted the rest of the body using a melty turd.

I've never met an Atlanta Thrashers fan. Since I'm assuming none of you have met any, either (because I'm pretty sure there are only, like, 40 total), I present you this. Gear down:



I most enjoy the song--not sure what it is, but I like to think of it as a love child of an "If They Mated" featuring the Oak Ridge Boys and Ricky Skaggs.

And because it's Thanksgiving, I'm going to be generous and give you a bonus:



I'm not sure what to be more impressed by: The fact that this guy cares that much about the outcome of the Thrashers game, or the fact that the following was posted in the comments section on YouTube:

PLEASE DON'T READ THIS. You will get kissed on the nearest possible Friday by the love of your life. Tomorrow will be the best day of your life. However, if you don't post this comment to at least 3 videos, you will die within 2 days. Copy and paste this, to be saved

Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no. I don't want to perish within the next two days! My festive dealer promised me a twofer on dime bags for Black Friday. (Just kidding, of course. I just wanted to make a lame joke. This blog and its writers are on the straight edge. Well, except for Brian. But that's only because he's attracted to the repetitious vowels in quaaludes.)

Have a marvelous Thanksgiving! Go Wings.

Basking in the afterglow; Canucks @ the Joe tonight.

Yep. Still happy. Still gloating. Still feeling fantastic. We're entitled to that, you know, after the rollercoaster that has been the opening six weeks of the 2009-10 season. Who would have thought that the end of the game would have left me with the same three words as the Toronto game, only with opposite emotion: Fuck. Me. Sideways.

I shall rate my happiness thusly: Happier than a pig in shit. Happier than a fat kid spying cake (simile courtesy of 50 Cent. I know, I know. Most horrible.). Happier than Ken Hitchcock at an all-you-can-eat KFC/Taco Bell/Entenmann's buffet. (Oh, shit. Where are my manners? Happy 1,000th game, by the way. Shithead.)

So, the afterglow doesn't last for long, particularly not today, as the Canucks venture into the Joe for the teams' second meeting this season. Kyle at Babcock's Death Stare made an excellent point in his recap of last night's game in saying that the down side to the Wings' huge victory last night is that they no longer have any excuses; they proved that depth, talent and drive are still present on the Wings' squad, so now they have to live up to the success we all know they're capable of achieving.

I'm going to let you guys in on a little secret: I'm sort of a spy. I mean, I enjoy espionage, particularly when it comes to rival teams. So, I totally got my hands on some top-secret footage of the Canucks' secret weapon on the ice. With Vancouver being so injury-plagued this season, they have a little something they may unleash on the ice against us tonight. Behold:



Yep. That just happened. My apologies for the egregious misspellings, but who can resist the funny that's inherently present in a retarded-looking, clothed whale skating around haphazardly with a T-shirt gun? Not this girl.

Also, if you want to be on the lookout for Fin, you should probably keep tabs on Mason Raymond's vehicle, as I heard through the grapevine that they like to travel together:



It's a great day when I get to make yet another Mason Raymond/hillbilly joke.

Wings pass on the BJs.

What? At least I didn't incorporate the verb "swallowed". Just know that I thought about it.

Wings win in Columbus, 9-1.

Not a typo.

NINE to one.

Seven players on the Wings' squad accounted for the nine goals, including two apiece for Niklas Kronwall and Justin Abdelkader. The first six Wings' goals were scored by players earning their third goal each of the season. So this must be what it's like, watching teams play in the Matrix.

Dan Cleary, Pavel Datsyuk, Kris Draper, and Niklas Kronwall each scored in the first half of the first period, raising the score 4-0 before the first intermission.

Todd Bertuzzi and Ville Leino scored in the second period, and Niklas Kronwall's second goal and both of Justin Abdelkader's came in the third.

Keeping track of the awesomeness?

--Myriad goals, spread out throughout the entire 60 minutes of play, rather than a flurry of goals early or a weak sauce attempt to catch up at the end? Check.

--Consistent play by top players? Check. Few glaring defensive breakdowns, and fabulous play by Datsyuk and Zetterberg, especially.

--Did the Wings' depth show tonight? Check. Is the sky blue? Leino looked better than he has since before he was benched; his razzle-dazzle before shooting the puck upstairs is reminiscent of the best plays we've seen him achieve in the past. Bertuzzi sent one to the back of the net. Cleary continued his scoring success. Kronwall proved his offensive prowess with being one shy of a hat trick tonight.

--Did the Wings keep it together? Yes. Again, consistent scoring throughout all three periods and no excessive or stupid penalties. Not counting Brad May's fighting major, none of the Wings made it to the sin bin until the end of the second period.

--How about special teams? The Wings managed two penalty kills successfully, with no power play goals against. Conversely, the Wings' power play accomplished two goals (both by Kronwall).

Sweet.

Holy crap, I'm in love. (Wings @ BJs tonight.)

Sorry, Aaron Downey. I never thought I'd end our imaginary relationship this way, via blog post, but I have to move on immediately.

I've found a better prospect. If you guys don't ever read this blog again after today, I'll understand, but please, do yourself the favor of going here to watch this, single-handedly the most amazing Columbus Blue Jackets fan in the history of the cosmos. I'm unbelievably perturbed that embedded has been disabled, but I promise, it's 20 seconds of your life that you will not wish you had back. Just know that I have already called dibs on this new love of my life.

***

So, yes, the Wings take on the Blue Jackets/BJs/Blowjays tonight in Columbus. I have no solid beef with this team, except that they're in the Central Division, their coach is Ken Hitchcock, Antoine Vermette plays for them, their logo makes me suspect they stole it from the dumpster outside Disney's PR office, and they're in the state of Ohio. Hmm. Maybe I should rephrase. I have no use for this team other than Rick Nash. But at least I don't hate them.

***

The Jackets are currently 6th(!) in the Western Conference and 2nd in the Central Division, with 20 points. The Wings are in 11th place overall and 3rd place in conference, but are only three points behind at 17. Eh. Howard's starting in goal, Williams is out for approximately 8 weeks, and I'm not sure what to expect out of this game, but I'm honestly ok with that. Having no expectations is better sometimes. What I hope for is the same thing for every game, that the Wings leap out of the gate at full speed, put points on the board early, and maintain pressure for 60 minutes of play. Is that so much to ask?

In order to get pumped up for the game, I'm going to take a little stroll down memory lane and relive some of the Blue Jackets' magic over the past six months or so. Care to join me?

***

I don't think Detroit would do anything in drag racing, because they would never pass the Christmas tree test. They would be red-lighted (for a false start) every time because their wingers cheat. So we're going to cheat just like they are. (On) the power-play goal they scored, their winger went in (early); good for him. We're going to do the same thing. It'll be interesting to see who gets kicked out (of the faceoff circle) first. --the illustrious Ken Hitchcock during last year's playoffs

I don't want to just stay in the (playoff) mix. I want to go and chase Detroit (atop the Central Division). I'm tired of watching Detroit in first place. I'd like to chase them. I mean, somewhere along the line, somebody's got to make them bleed, and it might as well be us. --the illustrious Ken Hitchcock prior to the start of the current season

You know, at this point, it isn't even about what happens on the ice. Because let's be honest, if Ken Hitchcock promises to chase anything and is threatening violence, we should all get the fuck out of the way, because nobody wants to get between a man and his donuts. It's just asking for pain.



***

He just used me like pony. He was on top of me. I don't like being the pony. I want to be on top. --the incomparable Pavel Datsyuk on Antoine Vermette's piggyback antics during last year's playoffs

Here's to you, Antoine Vermette, you rascal, you:



***

The puck drops tonight at 7 p.m. Anticipate magic and mayhem, as I'm sure the H-cock has gotten his squad riled up for the organizations' first meetup since the Wings swept them last spring. Oh, and a note about the tags--despite what happens in the standings this year, I'm never changing it from "St. Lounashbus bullshit" because that's just how I roll. They will always be one gigantic clusterfuck in my mind's eye.

Latent hypocrisy due to the current standings be damned. This blog has no qualms regarding its sanctimonious behavior and takes full responsibility for its asshat projections. I guess that answers any lingering questions about the potential of a Saintly Octopus. Ha!

I forgot to give this thing a title.

Well, fuck.

OK, OK: So, the whole Stockholm thing was a bust. The game yesterday was super depressing. It's so frustrating to watch your team come out so strong in a game and completely dominate, only to blow a lead, two days in a row, to an inferior team. Bleh.

To get it out of our system, I'm going to go ahead and whine about the things that pissed me off. Then, I'm going to make a list of all the things to which we are looking forward and greatly anticipating, both in hockey and in this blog:

First, the whining:

1. Mr. Jimmy Howard. No, I'm not ready to give up on him yet. The guy's got skills. He has the ability to make quick saves, and he seems to have the intuitive sense to withstand pressure from opponents (see Jordan Staal's penalty shot in last Sunday's preseason game).

But the third and fourth goals he gave up yesterday were inexcusable, especially the latter, since he had absolutely no idea what was happening on the ice. I don't know what this is, but I don't like it at all. Because I still want to give this guy a chance and because I don't want to have a nervous breakdown, I'm going to choose to believe he had an off night and that said two goals against are not indicative of the season to come.

I just might have to make sure I have a bottle of Jack nearby at all times whenever he starts this season.

2. Valterri Filppula. I've been waiting all summer to see more from him than what he's shown since the beginning of the preseason. Everyone's anticipating a breakout year for him. Start having one.

3. Can we please have a streak of games in which we are not trying to convert, during the last minute of play, from a 1- or 2-goal deficit? Please, please, please, please, PLEASE? For my own sanity, please. I wasn't ready to relive this during the preseason, and I hate starting off the regular season this way. Watching yesterday's last-minute 6-on-4 left a bad taste in my mouth. Sure, it's awesome to watch your team pull off a win in situations like these, but it's way, way, worse than a normal loss when you watch your team scramble from behind to try to pull off a win and wind up short. Our team is so much better than that. I'm sick of watching what inevitably feels like the last few minutes of Game 7 over and over and over.

4. It really fucking blows to lose twice in a row to St. Lounashbus, the clusterfuck that will be duking it out to be the bottom-rung 8th seed in the West.

Now, here are some things that made me happy yesterday:

1. Ville Leino. He had another good game yesterday. I like that each of the young'ns bring something different and unique to the roster: Darren Helm has that amazing speed and lack of any awareness of the state of his own physical well-being when he single-handedly DESTROYS opponents on the ice; Jonathan Ericsson is like 12'10" and is quick-thinking and strong and provides an offensive presence from the blueline; Justin Abdelkader is crazy-athletic and also has a big, physical presence. Leino has pizazz. I loved watching him skate around opposing players yesterday; when he brings his A-game, he has an almost-Datsyukian flourish that allows him to get by others, helping him hang on to the puck, and therefore, not piss me off.

2. Speaking of whom, Pavel Datsyuk. I could watch this guy skate laps around an empty rink. I just love watching him do what he does. He's my most favorite.

3. Nicklas Lidstrom. What can you really say about him that hasn't been already said? He's the best at his job. There's a reason he's won a gajillion Norris Trophies, and it's on display every single game. When people start ragging on the Wings for being over the hill, they need to tune in to a game (because obviously, they don't watch if they spew bile like that) and watch this guy at work.

4. HOMER SCORED A GOOOOOOOOAL!!!!!! Homer is my 2nd favorite on the team, now that Aaron Downey is no longer with us. I heart this guy. He has the worst job on the best team, he's the best in the league at said job, and he also gets no respect because he's the ripe old age of 36. Eat it, naysayers. This guy rocks my socks. And he will eat your soul if you step to his game.



And finally, as promised, a list of things to anticipate:

1. Eighty games lie ahead. Dropping the first two, in the grand scheme of things, is no biggie. Speaking of future games...

2. The Wings' real home opener is this Thursday against Chicago. I fucking hate the Blackhawks. A lot. I'm so excited. I just wish that assplug Marian Hossa was going to be in attendance. But that's OK; I'm still looking forward to this game with all my heart.

3. Also re: the Hawks, you can look forward to a post detailing all the ways in which this team sucks at life and provokes my ire upon the mere mention of its name. Who doesn't get pumped for a game by pure, unadulterated hatred?

4. OK, I can't help myself. Let's have a little preview of hating on the Hawks:



Ahhhh, that's nice.

Lord Stanley is ours for the taking. Let's do this thing.