Summertime and the living's easy...

And by "summer," TSO clearly means the area between approximately March 15 and October 1, when output from us is marginal at best and shiteous at worst.

I take full responsibility for our ineptitude as of late: Thanks to various members of the Wings' family Twitterati (I'm looking at you, Baroque and Andy), a burgeoning sense of shame and colossal failure resides in my soul. In fact, to quote one Baroque, "Allegedly you have a blog. It's been staring out of cyberspace with sad neglected puppy eyes lately." Combine that with Andy's, "Yeah I seem to remember you used to have a blog that used to be my favourite.." Also worth noting are the various "You're alive?!" exclamations we receive when we roll out of our burrows and surface on Twitter--kinda like varmint.

Maybe this is what deadbeat parents feel when a judge throws the book at them for failure to care for those whom they have brought into the world.

On second thought, maybe this is reason #9,246,821 why I should never procreate.

And now, because we still aren't completely at terms with Wings-less hockey continuing in June, we present you the following:

TSO Summer Survival Guide

1. Naked dance around the maypole to celebrate the triumphant returns of Lidstrom and Homer, and in Homer's honor, a night bonfire, complete with singing odes of joy into the night wind.

2. Tune in to the remainder of the SCF and cheer wholeheartedly for anyone who does anything vile to anybody on Chicago's roster. A-ny-one. The tag "I fucking hate the Chicago Blackhawks" has existed on this site practically from the start, and it overshadows any other grain of relative hate we typically feel for Pronger and semi-hate for Carcillo.

3. Start a Facebook movement: "Ville for Conn Smythe." We're so proud of the fact that we supported him from day one.

4. After the SCF have concluded, pass our time in various ways, most notably attempting great feats we've never had the time nor the inclination to do before, such as picking up Finnegans Wake...

5. ...and promptly putting it back down after half a page.

6. Finding a new go-to hairstyle for humor's sake now that fecal loaf Patrick Kane has ruined the mullet for all of us. My suggestion? The pompadour. Because what's more amusing than a hairstyle worn by Elvis that kinda looks like an asscheek? I don't know the answer to that.

7. Further my foray into the quotidian by becoming more of a gardening boss than I already am, releasing my rage one clump of topsoil at a time. In related news, the other half of TSO will probably commence searching for a new significant other whose true-age is not 75, whereas yours truly will be looking into retirement as a snowbird. Anybody know of a great condo in Tampa?

8. Finally get to clean out that TSO spam folder, which means learning of the inheritance owed to TSO, from when TSO's older, scrappier cephalopod ancestors found sunken treasure. Also, ascertain if the guy who promises, "I will pay you for clicking your mouse" knows what he's in for. Oh, and get that TSO bank account in Dubai straighted out.

In all seriousness, thank you to every single person we've met, conversed with, celebrated with, had a beer with, and hung out with, be it in person or online. Hanging with y'all on Twitter, conversing with everybody on TSO and other blogs, not to mention the H2H experience--it's made this season truly unforgettable. It's one thing to be a fan of the greatest franchise in professional sports. It's another thing to be friends with the greatest fans in the world. Thanks for everything you've given us over the past season and have a great summer. I mean, we'll talk lots over the summer and everything...if when we emerge before October.

Holy shit, Homer!

Per Khan (and an extra-special high-five to saraneuie for the link), TSO's most favorite, Tomas Holmstrom, is the Wings' nominee for the Masterton Trophy, which is officially the League's award for most "sportsmanship, leadership and perseverance", or, as we like to say around these parts, being the biggest fucking boss that we've seen thus far.

Homer, man of so many poetic words, summarized his elation at learning of his nomination thusly:

"Oh, I'm honored,'' Holmstrom said.

This isn't your first trip to town. You know exactly how TSO feels about Homer. We jumped up and down for joy when Homer scored career goal #200 in December. We made him a get-well card and promised to pour out some MD 20/20 upon learning of his injury. I changed all the fucking pictures on this site to Homer's while he was sidelined. I got arrested but never indicted for that time I got stuck in Homer's cul-de-sac in the middle of the night with a flashlight, a crowbar, and a Jultomten costume. Bottom line: Homer rocks our socks.

With that in mind, I present you the following:

TSO's Open Letter to the Powers-That-Be Behind the Scenes
To Whom It May Concern:

It has recently been brought to the attention of The Scrappy Octopus that the scrappiest motherfucker ever, Tomas Holmstrom, is eligible to be named as a finalist for the Bill Masterton Memorial Trophy.

We understand that in order to keep up appearances, you still have to announce three finalists--you know, in an effort to coddle egos and create a pseudo-element of surprise. We fully expect that come June, the award will be Homer's.

In the interim, please ponder the following reasons why TSO believes it is in your best interests to hand the award over to #96:

1. First, the obvious: the location of Homer's office. Do you know what it's like to go to work every day in the absolute direst of environments? Probably not. Your office is most likely located in a cushy canopy of daffodils and rainbows. Imagine going to work every day on a train ride to hell with fire-roasted seats and the sound of Rosie O'Donnell's laughter playing on a continuous loop on the loudspeaker, forcing you to pray for the train to reach its destination, only when the train opens its doors, you find this waiting for you:



And sometimes, you get this instead:



And on really shitty days, you might come across this:



Yeah. Them apples fucking suck ass, don't they?

2. Homer's primary task is to plant his derriere in the faces of opposing goaltenders in the hopes of screening them from seeing shots or positioning himself for a quick deflection into the back of the net. To put this into perspective, imagine giving a grinding lapdance to this guy:



Kinda looks like the type who may or may not get a boner from the delightful combination of solitude, strychnine, and scrotum surface area.

3. Homer started off this year in a blaze of glory. Remember that time, not so far in the distant past, when he led the team in goals? For Christ's sake, he notched an assist on each of the three Wings' goals scored in the outing against Nashville this past Saturday. He has arguably been the most consistent player in terms of production on the team during this rollercoaster-shitfest of a year, despite being sidelined on two separate occasions due to injuries.

4. Homer's always doing work. Always. He works his ass off along the boards. He is one of the least polished skaters on the team, but how many games do we all watch him lumbering down the ice at Homer-mach-five to attempt to negate an untimely icing call or to outwrangle some asshole for control of the puck? The correct answer is every fucking game. If that's not perseverance, then fuck me sideways.

The bottom line is that in terms of surpassing expectations and in maintaining his work ethic and production in spite of adversarial circumstances this season, Homer's done it all. Somewhere deep down, you've gotta believe that his determination served as an inspiration to his teammates along the way, particularly as the Wings struggled with so many injuries this season.

So, in short, give him the fucking trophy. You don't really want to deal with a pair of scrappy octopi in Jultomten costumes at your door, do you?

We trust that you'll make the appropriate decision.

Very respectfully yours, for sure,
The Scrappy Octopus

Hero

Can we please face Josh Harding for all games hereafter?

So this is what 60 minutes of Red Wings hockey feels like.

Detroit defeats Minnesota 5-1 and sure helped people betting online.

Henrik Zetterberg played like a man possessed tonight. TSO particularly enjoyed Babcock's pairing of Eaves with Hank, which resulted in that fabulous goal by Z. Wow. Either Henrik heard the cries of all the Detroit faithful accusing him of selling out by selling short, or Emma began passing on sexual congress with him. Take your pick. Whatever it was, more, please. (Our apologies to the Wings whose amorous endeavors fail as a result of their fans' selfish requests.)

How about the Mule? Franzen earned himself two goals tonight, and how awesome was it when the camera caught him on the bench right after he scored the second one? I swear to Christ, homeboy looked like he was about to straight up eat somebody. (Kings of Leon: You know that I conSUMED someBODAAAYYY...) And to be honest with you, I then did a five-second mental rundown of all the horrible things I've done lately, just to make sure I hadn't double-crossed Johan by hooking up with his significant other or relieving myself in his water bottle. My conscience is now at ease.

And what about that Miller/Filppula shorthanded rush, which resulted in a goal by Drew himself? Brilliant moves by both men. Not only was it awesome for scoring purposes, but it also proved that Miller can be just as adorable knocking a goal into the net off his own person as he is doing anything else. When Buffalo comes to town on Saturday night, not only will there be some good ol' sibling rivalry on the ice, but it'll be an adorable-off competition of epic magnitude between the two brothers, kinda like stumbling upon the Gerber baby playing peek-a-boo with the terrier group from the Westminster Kennel Club in a Dutch tulip garden while butterflies, bumblebees, and bubbles float through the air on a sunny day with just the right number of clouds in the turquoise sky to remind you of fluffy cotton candy. Siiiiigh.

We can't leave out Darren Helm from this one, either. How many times has he stepped into the crease at juuuuust the right fraction of a second to prevent a puck from sliding across the line? Genius, my friend. Jimmy had a good night, as well; he looked stronger tonight than he did two nights ago, stepping up to provide several clutch saves.

Anyone (Krononymous? Dena?) want to speculate on the over/under of the odds that our bud Marty Havlat sharted big time when he heard the thunder that could ONLY be the sound of KRONWALLING?

How sad is the state of Minnesota's power play? I'm not even sure I have the words to describe it. But, at gunpoint, I could make an attempt:



On an unrelated note, anybody else watching the game on the NHL Network catch that commercial about the journey of sperm through the conception process? Because, yeah, the one thing I was missing from that whole birds-and-the-bees convo my mom had with me back in the day was a militia of people dressed in riot gear to imitate the archnemeses of the little one-eyed snakes on their trek to sperminize the ova. Can you imagine what sex ed class in 7th grade would have been like if we could have reenacted that? Classic. So, uh, yeah, I'll probably tape it or something, if you want to come over and watch it with me.

Last but certainly not least, how's about dear Homer's efforts tonight? Mickey was right: Striking from that distance on the ice is definitely a rarity for #96. As Homer's gal Friday, I'm going to interpret his actions tonight as a preemptive measure to annex additional office space, so I'll be working the phones bright and early tomorrow morning to make sure we get all our building permits in order to comply with the zoning codes.

It's Wednesday.

We don't have one of our normal questions today.

Why? (Shit, does that count?)

Because today is the day immediately following last night's shitshow. My brain is fried. I can't think straight. I don't want to talk about actual hockey, even something as gratuitous as our typical Wednesday questions.

But we have to do something today. We can't just sit around and wallow in our own misery and hopelessness.

While talking to our bud Petrella earlier, he suggested going in a completely un-hockey-related route. He then proceeded to propose a question of two movies I've never seen before (subsequently, he no longer believes me when I state that I hail from Planet Awesome). My neurons wouldn't even allow me to come up with two other films worth discussing. Crap.

So, here's what we're going to do:

Describe your ideal dinner party of five guests, real or fictional, and elaborate on why you chose each guest.

Fun times, right?

My dinner table would look something like this:


Around the table there, clockwise from the left, we have Andy Botwin, Charlie Kelly, Andy Bernard, yours truly, George Oscar Bluth (G.O.B.), and Tomas Holmstrom. (Please note that--myself excluded--there is only one nonfictional character at my table.)

A. Andy Botwin

I recently started getting into Weeds. I'm almost done with the second season, and seriously--this guy took his 12-year-old uncool nephew to a happy ending "massage parlor" when said nephew complained about no one wanting to give him an HJ in school. Class act, all the way. More relatives should take a proactive role in this regard. His tagline should be: "Uncles: Preventing Loserdom in Adolescents Since 2005."

Oh, and did I mention he gave the single greatest speech on self-pleasure since, well, ever?



B. Charlie Kelly

I'm a little hesitant to invite the best character from It's Always Sunny over to a dinner party since the show makes it clear that he almost always smells like poo. But really, how could I omit the guy who brought us the fine art of "going American all over everyone's ass"?

Also, let's not forget that time Charlie and Mac were working in a mailroom and Charlie had a straight-up meltdown. Anybody else working in the professional world ever feel like pulling one of those? Oh, say, every single fucking day? Teach us your ways, Mr. Kelly.



C. Andy Bernard

Everyone's favorite sycophant, the "Nard-Dog." Another example of someone who had a meltdown at work, only he sprung back with great success. I choose Mr. Bernard, though, because he is by far my favorite character of The Office, dressing like a U.Va. undergrad and always dropping insights on his peers like the following:



D. G.O.B.

Oh, where do I even begin with this zany Bluth brother? He may not be the brother I have a real, actual crush on (hi, Jason Bateman), but I can't imagine the most well-known character of Arrested Development being played by anyone other than Will Arnett. Anyone ever experienced the feeling of immense disappointment upon discovering that your probable soulmate is a fictional character? It's not for nothing that I've long since adopted "I've made a huge mistake" as my personal anthem.



E. Tomas Holmstrom

Enough said, really. For the record, I am inviting the semi-fictional version of Homer that we've all crafted here at TSO: you know, the one with the Viking swords, and the crazy caveman relationship with his wife, and the night-howling...wait, why are we still pretending this is fictional?



(Whoever made that video, you are now my new best friend.)

You're fucking out!

...As in out of the playoffs! For now, anyway. I would rather have been dropping a hard Kenny Powers line after a win, but I think it fits tonight. Fair warning - I think Nat and I both were irrationally angry after this game.

So tonight's game was absurd. Maybe I'm a completely crazy fan, but this loss made me mad. You are battling for a playoff spot. A spot in the playoffs that the team you're playing can take from you by beating you. In this scenario, you are leading the game 2-1 at the start of the third...get outshot 15-4 in the last period and lose 4-2. That, to me, is a big sack o' horseshit. Where was the effort? I believe it was the good folks at Helm Street today who stated that this Wings team can be the best team in the league for about 20 minutes, and it's a pretty true statement. The second period? Amazing. Third period? Oy vey. My timely observations, with a few questions sprinkled in:

1. I'd love to hear someone who actually plays hockey on this (Chris from NOHS, Petrella, I'm looking at you, and probably others I'm forgetting ) - Was Jimmy kind of suspect tonight? He looked out of position a lot early, seemed to fight the puck a lot and have rebound issues. Maybe I'm crazy. Though I'm saying this, I don't think you can really blame him for the goals tonight....and this isn't pro-Ozzie-he-should-be-playing-right-now crazy talk. He shouldn't. Jimmy is our goaltender, for better or worse, and I think for the better. Jimmy just seemed shaky tonight.

2. I know it was mentioned a lot at the end of the telecast, but Hank, um, doesn't really look good. I mean, the guy is a warrior, so I don't judge. I think any of us would rather see a half strength Hank instead of, oh, I don't know, Jeremy Williams. But it is what it is.

3. Pav, Homer, and Franzen - Domination. Franzen looks great.

4. If only the Wings were in the East...

5. I can't even count for you the amount of swearing I edited out of this. This game was sad. It just makes you think - how can this team have a third period like this? NOW? At this point in the season?

I know I'm not even coherent right now so I turn it over to you the readers. Talk me, Brian, off my over-reactory ledge.

Welcome back to Homer & the Mule.

Once again, our fabulous readers @saraneuie and @nursenitz have plied us with collages of Homer's and Franzen's first games back at the Joe after the 1,000-year road trip. Alas, like the elusive butterfly he is, Homer exacerbated the knee injury during Saturday's game, and it looks as though the Mule will play for him in the Olympics after all. Egg on your face much, Sweden?

Poor Homer, though. That's gotta be beyond disappointing for him. (Anybody want to speculate on what Homer's favorite form of exercising his demons is? I'm guessing it probably has something to do with eating cats or perhaps steel wool granules while donning a Moses-style headpiece and screaming into the night wind.)

On a brighter note, here are some visual snacks for your enjoyment. I'm pretty sure the Homer one is going up in my place of employment. Sara titled the one for #93 "Franzen and His Mustache." I gotta say, I'm digging the mustache, but then again, I like Franzen's red playoff beard. It makes him look like even more of a badass.

Whitesnake Wednesday.

Another day. Another nut-bustin' day in which you learn one of the best players on your team is out...again, due to a tweak. No, seriously, I really did think that verb only applied to a specific act that may or may not occur during sexual congress. Not trying to be the moral police, but really, "tweaking" has no place on the ice.

Thanks to Petrella, via George Malik, we now know that Kronner's "tweaked" ankle makes him doubtful for tonight's game in Anaheim. Fuck a bunch.

So, on we go. What else can we do? Well, we could answer Wednesday's question (kudos to Brian for coming up with this one):

Who's your favorite "under the radar"* Wing (past or present) and why?

*We're defining "under the radar" pretty loosely here; you don't have to resort between choosing between Ville Leino or Mikael Samuelsson. Under the radar in this case means the player can have (or have had) success with the team, but he's not one of those players whose jerseys you see gajillions of at the Joe, nor is he one at whom all the ladies throw their unmentionables. In other words, your favorite non-superstar.

My answer's easy. Click here, here, or even here if you're not sure. I know it may be a stretch to call the guy leading the team in goals "under the radar," but I've never seen anyone wear a Homer jersey in person, nor do you hear anybody chattering about how hot he is, so that fits my definition, at least.

What about you guys?



Welcome back, Homer.

Wings drown Sharks, 4-2. (Regulation. Bitches.)

Christ on a stick, thankyouthankyouthankyou for giving us two points in regulation tonight. Mandatory keyboard explody type celebration time: sdofdofndofodsufowehofsfnds.

Super duper quick thoughts before calling it a night:

1. Welcome back, #96. Homer played like a man possessed tonight. Time and again, I've praised him on here for always working hard, and tonight, he displayed as much hustle and grit as ever. He notched an assist on each of the first two Wings' goals scored, and by the end of the game, he'd put six shots on goal.

2. When Kronner couldn't stay on his skates during one of the Sharks' power plays during the first period, I thought, "Fuck. Not again." Turned out it was just a broken blade on one of his skates. Then, for start of the third period, he didn't return to the bench; Derek Meech took his place on the power play. Late in the third period, FSD reported that Kronwall had a "slight tweak, nothing serious." After the game, Babcock indicated that he "tweaked his ankle." Hmm. I don't believe "tweak" is a serious medical offense, so we'll keep hoping for the best until we hear otherwise, right?

3. Speaking of Meech, he actually played a decent game; on the aforesaid power play, he scored a goal, and he elevated his defensive play throughout the game (particularly noticeable after he scored that goal). Way to finally play as if you give a shit about earning a permanent spot on the team, cochise.

4. Pavel Datsyuk and Henrik Zetterberg both had stellar efforts tonight. Zetterberg scored the Wings' second goal tonight on a power play, and feeling my heart soar while watching Homer reunited with the Eurotwins was a feeling I shant soon forget.

5. Speaking of Pasha, my jaw is still scraping the ground due to the fact that I witnessed Joe Thornton strip him of the puck during a Datsyukian playbook rush. I believe the universe attempted to negate this by later having Nabokov cough up a juicy rebound to Datsyuk, but still...

6. How about Brian Rafalski's defensive play along the boards during the final 60 seconds? Holy Jesus...

7. San Jose is really just too ridiculously good at faceoffs.

8. I like seeing Dan Cleary and Valtteri Filppula play together, and I didn't mind seeing Homer on the second line tonight, either, as much as I love the Flying Circus. I thought these three did a great job maintaining pressure and creating chances.

9. Patrick Eaves's goal was magnificent--I love when our guys are in the right position to catch the other team with the pants around their ankles, which is exactly what happened with San Jose here. Also worth noting is Kris Draper (who earned an assist on Eaves's goal) and Darren Helm, who also both had tremendous efforts tonight. Valtteri Filppula also showed up to rock and roll, earning himself two assists.

10. Joe Thornton is a dickhole for crashing into Jimmy late in the third. But thanks for negating that stressful 6-on-4 sitch, Joe. You just gotta hate it when that happens.

This was the most consistent effort the Wings have put forth recently. They were a little sluggish to start the game, but warmed up to a fever pitch during the final eight minutes of the first period. They were a little uneven at the beginning of the second period, but left all that soon behind after Cleary scored the first of four unanswered Wings' goals. The third period was all around outstanding for Detroit.

We owe ourselves a tiny sigh of relief that the game didn't go into overtime; Nashville earned a point tonight against Phoenix (who won in the 11,403th round of a shootout), Dallas beat Minnesota, Colorado beat Columbus, and Los Angeles topped the Rangers. The standings are so ridiculously tight right now--every little bit counts. The Wings now have 64 points (tied with the Preds). Tomorrow night, we play the delightfully disgusting Anaheim Ducks, who are not far behind us with 59 icky points. We don't need to be reminded of how crucial another regulation win tomorrow is. Let's go, Wings.

Wings @ Sharks tonight.

If you needed any incentive to stay up tonight to catch the game, here goes:

1. The triumphant return of Homer(!!!), for sure this time. (And just how appropriate is it that he returns on Groundhog Day?)

2. This is probably going to happen (seriously, so kickass):



Per the norm, there are all kinds of reasons to be slightly annoyed with the San Jose Sharks. They're currently first place in the Western Conference. Patrick Marleau (him?) is tied with Sidney Crosby for most goals scored league-wide at 37 each. Joe Thornton is fourth in the league in points (68). Evgeni Nabokov is third in the league in save percentage, GAA, and wins. None of this should be truly surprising since San Jose often sits atop or very near to the top of the Western Conference.

When we here at TSO look at teams beforehand, usually we say something earth-shatteringly deep like, "Oh, a win tonight would really help us gain momentum at the beginning of this road trip," or "Wow, at this point in the season, beating a top team like the Sharks on their home ice would feel better than sex," or "Let's go ahead and solidify our place at the bottom of the pack that's still good enough to go to the playoffs with a win."

Bleh. Obviously, all those things are still true (except the sex part...I reserve that reaction for Wings' wins against teams I actually make an effort to loathe), but the Wings' loss against the Pens this weekend left a bitter taste in my mouth. The offensive effort was there--but only during the final twenty minutes of the game. In fact, I'd worked on one of our live blog recaps during the game, only to give it up during the second intermission because I was completely disgusted with the team's performance against Shittsburgh, and I just couldn't find the words. (Instead, we went out for Mexican food and margaritas after the game. I poured one out for all equally distraught TSO readers. WIN!)

The Wings can't afford to do that against tough opponents, including tonight (despite having a good track record against San Jose--the last game against them, on January 9th, resulted in a 4-1 win for us). It's common sense: When you allow offensive powerhouses to hang out in your own zone for the better part of 40 minutes and pepper your goaltender with 40+ shots by the end of the game, at least one of them is bound to make its way into the net, even if it's a result of a shitty bounce or rebound that Howard has no chance to stop. With the Wings' lack of offensive production leading to losses being decided by one- or two-point games, it's certainly a recipe for disaster.

So what's it going to be tonight? The Wings have to come out, guns blazing, to defeat San Jose, and then they have to keep on trucking until sixty minutes have elapsed. If I see another half-hearted effort for any major portion of the game, whether it's an attempt to come from behind to score (no, not the shocker) or letting their foot off the gas after building a one- or two-goal lead, I'll be dead by sunup.

An Update on #96.

Per Khan, for sure:

Detroit Red Wings forward Tomas Holmstrom said this morning that he is hoping to return to the lineup Jan. 29 or 31, which seems overly optimistic considering he has taken only a few light spins on the ice and hasn't felt good.

"I've been skating three times this week, nothing really serious,'' Holmstrom said. "I didn't feel that good, couldn't really push away. I don't want to push away either because it could get worse.''

Gotta love how anxious he is to return to the lineup; I just hope we get Homer back at 100%, so if that means we don't get to see him for a few additional weeks, I'll take it. We need Homer at his best, and we don't want to risk further injury to him.

Khan also points out that today is Homer's birthday. Oh, don't we here at TSO know it. (For sure.) I had this card all ready to go, but I had to redo it because I didn't think it was quite festive enough; it still had a pallor of sadness to it, and since we got the good news from Khan today, our smiles are just a little bit wider.

Also, per Khan, we learned of the following attempted hijinks:

He said he was watching his back, making sure Kris Draper didn't strike with a towel full of shaving cream.

"I've gotten him enough times already,'' Draper. "He's too easy a target because he can't move real good.''

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HOMER!! (For sure, I know you're an avid reader of your #1 fan.)

Wings @ Islanders tonight, new TOV, plus a special Homer ode redux.

Subtitle: In which I go overboard with my love of hypertext.

Ah, the New York Islanders. Tonight, the Wings travel to Long Island for the teams' only meet-up during this regular season. Why, do you ask, should we care about this game? I'm glad you asked.

Reasons to Consider Caring About This Game:

1. We want our team to continue its win streak.

2. We want Jimmy (who's starting--again) to continue his hot streak.

3. We want the recent scorers (Datsyuk, Helm, Cleary, Eaves) to continue to showcase their offensive prowess on the ice. As Brian observed in his recap of Saturday's game against the Sharks, this was the first time in a long time--possibly the entire season, or at least it feels that way--that the offensive powers on the team actually felt like a cohesive, offensive powerhouse. More, please.

***

Also, per that same article by Khan, Jonathan Ericsson hopes to return Thursday against the Hurricanes. Fingers crossed for the next 48 +/- hours...

***

And for any of you concerned out there about the prevention of animal cruelty, you're in luck for tonight:



The thing is, I get that it's a spoof of that fantabulous Big & Rich song, of which I am quite fond of playing/singing at redneck bars (oh, aren't you excited to hang out with me at Herm to Hockeytown?), but since when is Long Island synonymous with cowpokes? Am I missing something?

***

If you haven't yet, check out Episode 5 of The Obstructed View, featuring Matt from On the Wings, Michael from The Production Line, and The Chief from Abel to Yzerman. I can't wait to listen to this tonight. By all accounts, it is a fabulous episode, as always.

***

Yesterday, after our get-well card to Homer made the rounds, we got an email from a fabulous TSO reader named Sara, who shared with us two of her favorite Homer photos she'd taken earlier this season. She's allowing me to publish them on here for all of you to enjoy:



It's kind of a story of the Homer experience in yin and yang: the first one captures his goofiness; the second, his badass-ish-ness. Thanks for sharing, Sara!

Wings cock punch Sharks, win 4-1

How do you follow up one of the best goaltending exhibitions that most people have seen (myself not included, as I went to bed, as I am old and work super early in the morning)? You dominate the second-best team in hockey.

After a fairly even first period, the Wings dominated the remainder of the game, rattling off four unanswered goals. It was kind of a needed performance after allowing poor Jimmy to get shelled against the Kings. The defense looked decent, the offense looked good. In this game, the team looked closer to the Red Wings we're used to and against a good Sharks team. That's encouraging. As usual when I fill in, a few observations from the game:

1. It's fun to watch Jimmy grow this season. Opinions in the preseason ranged somewhere between "Let's give the kid a chance" to "I wonder if Beachball Cloutier will still be available after he fails". To be fair, it was easy to doubt. This kid has stepped up. It's almost to the point where you don't really know what else can be said. Great game by Jimmy. Again. The game looks easy for him right now.

2. Also fun to watch - the evolution of Darren Helm. I hope this kid is around for a long time.

3. 70 goals Heatley, while having a good season, is going to have to pick up the pace a bit, isn't he?

4. Thank you, St. Louis. I know it's early, but being in 9th is worrisome anytime.

5. Non-Red Wing related, this video is fun! Kick ass Russian fighting.

6. I did not think Dan Cleary had wicked, well-placed wrist shots in him.

7. My thoughts on this team overall - right now, I know we're in ninth, but this team is endearing, isn't it? I mean, we're all Wings fans, and we have our favorite moments. Yzerman's toughness, the Russian Five, Hasek, Bowman, et al. This year's team is interesting and chocked full of all kinds of stories. This is the closest I've seen the Wings to being a team of "cast-offs". Look at some of the players who have stepped up. Todd Bertuzzi, bane of TPL's existence, has stepped up in a big way with everyone injured. Tomas Holmstrom, given up for dead by so many (sadly? I'm slightly guilty of this. I love him, but I was worried he was done after last year), has hooked himself up to the rejuvenation machine. The evolution of Darren Helm from young spark plug to dynamic force you can't take your eyes off of (lest you miss something amazing). Young players like Abdelkader stepping up before they're ready. Cast-offs, people who were either waived during the season (Drew Miller), getting no offers in the off-season (Bert, Doug Janik), or completely given up on (think Carolina wishes they had Patrick Eaves)? They're really hanging around with this crew? This year's team is gritty. The fact that the Wings are even 9th right now in the West is largely due to coaching and leadership. We're lucky to have Uncle Mike and company and a great front office who time and time again find these spare parts on the scrap heap.

I guess what I'm saying here is this is a team I'll remember, what they've overcome and how they've hung in there. Maybe Jimmy is our goalie of the future; maybe he's Jim Carrey. Maybe some of our young players won't pan out. Maybe some of these guys who are around this year will flame out. One thing is for sure - this is a team I'll remember, and I like where they're headed. They are playing good, sound, tough hockey. Missing all the players they've missed, and they survive. This team is going to be even more ready to go once players start trickling in from IR. By the time Franzen gets back, everyone SHOULD be healthy, and won't that be around the time this team is hitting its stride? You think the top folks in the West want to play this team in the first round?

Next year's team is going to look different from this one. I'm certainly enjoying this year's team, though. This was a good win tonight. Go Wings.

An Ode to Homer

If I know what love is, it is because of you. - Hermann Hesse

As mentioned in the game recap last night, I actually cried when I learned of Homer's injury. This is officially my breaking point. Naturally, I'm worried about our team's offensive production and ability to hang in there (Howard's and Helm's superhuman performances last night aside), but perhaps even more than that, I'm just very sad. Reports indicate he'll be gone for three to four weeks. This would put him back in time for the Olympics with a week to spare, barring any setbacks. Homer will be 41 years old in 2014; missing the Olympics this year could be the last chance he'll have to skate for Team Sweden. Considering how hard Homer has worked this year and how much he's accomplished, particularly in light of so many anti-Detroit naysayers insisting during the off-season that he was over the hill and incapable of demolition any longer, this is a very glum possibility for TSO's second-favorite Red Wing (really, it's more of a 1[a] and 1[b] situation).

When Hank injured his shoulder, I tweeted that a Zetterberg-less world is a world I do not want to inhabit. I guess now I'll have to up the ante to this being a universe I no longer want to inhabit.

So, in order to raise our spirits and to make sure Homer feels the love, we've made a greeting card to send to Homer. From our hearts to yours:





If you listen closely, in that video--and mind you, I'm no expert in Swenglish/Swedegian, yet--I'm pretty sure he says, "Wow, signing these autographs for kids is so much fun, but it would be even more kickass if that silly girl from The Scrappy Octopus was here!" Maybe we can get a confirmation on my translation, Andy?

And finally, a long-distance dedication. Until you return, Homer:

Holy shit, Jimmy Howard.

What else do you expect me to write when the Wings get outshot 52-24 and still win 2-1? Making 51 saves during a not-so-hot performance by the Wings' defense and offense, Jimmy should have earned his second career shutout tonight.

The only other thing to add: Holy shit, Darren Helm and his game-winning goal, scored with 18.2 seconds left in the third period following the Kings' tying goal on a power play. Wow.

Hey, at least we were the beneficiaries of one of these ridiculously lopsided games.

That's all I'm writing tonight. I don't have the courage to discuss Homer...yet. Let's just say there were tears tonight, and I'm not ready to go into detail.

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.

Wings @ Blackhawks tonight.

Yeah, yeah: We totally took a pass at writing any sort of game preview of the Dallas Stars game. It's just that...we got nearly two feet of snow, and playing in that is infinitely more exciting than writing about the Dallas Stars, whom I consider one of the most yawn-inducing teams in the Conference. I guess that's why they have ice girls, for Christ's sake.

Anyway, if you want a recap for yesterday's game, here it is: Pavel Datsyuk wiped up both ends of the ice with the faces of every single person on the Stars' roster. Tomas Holmstrom scored a magnificent goal. The Homer/Datsyuk/Bertuzzi line played a solid game yesterday. Brad May actually kicked someone's ass. Time stood still. Jimmy let in a couple of softies. Doug Janik looks like the kind of guy who if you let go on a Friday, you'd want to notify security the preceding Monday that this guy means trouble. Toby FlendersonVille Leino had a decent chance...at some point in the game, but you know how much we care about Leino's decent chances over here (if "ifs" and "buts" were candy and nuts, we'd all have a merry Christmas). Wings played a decent first period, an absolutely electric second period, and came out flat for the third period. Hey, at least nobody got injured yesterday. Lose to Dallas, 4-3.

***

Wings visit the Windy City tonight for the first time this season. We're also going to see Marian Hossa face the team for the first time since he jumped on board the Chicago bandwagon. I'm ready to see Brad Stuart make wallpaper out of him; he did a pretty good job of doing that to Kopecky back in October, but I hear Kopecky is still standing, so if Stuart could go ahead and finish that job, it would be fanfuckingtastic.

Should be an interesting game. Chicago is on fire right now. I'm tempted to make the requisite "Oh, if we drop this one, it's only because we're playing back-to-back road games or because we're so injury-ridden, blah, blah, blah", but instead, I'm going to quote rule #76: No excuses. Play like a champion.

I've sent a little memo to the Wings. It's not a big deal or anything, but I thought I'd stick it on here and maybe pump up the morale for tonight's game. Here goes:

Dear Red Wings,

Hey, it's your favorite Scrappy Octopus here. Just wanted to send you a little note of encouragement to say good luck tonight against the Blackhawks. I don't have to tell you how symbolically important your meetings against the Hawks are to your fanbase.

I did want to point out that in addition to it being five days before Christmas, it's also the day before my birthday. And since you're not sending me Aaron Downey in a box (unless it's going to be a late delivery, right on my birthday, and not to be bratty, but I did specifically request an entire week with him, not just one day), you really owe it to me to go ahead and win tonight. If tonight goes poorly, it will ruin my birthday and my chances of living a productive year. Also, I will promptly light myself on fire. So there, you all have all of that on your consciences.

Much love to you all! Stay positive.

XO, Me

Let's. Go. Wings.

Homer scores #200.

As of the second intermission in tonight's game against the New Jersey Devils, Tomas "For Sure" Holmstrom is the proud owner of goal #200 in his professional career.

I've been waiting to write this post forever, as Homer's scoring flurry early in the season has slowed as of late.

To explain how pumped I am for Homer to achieve this milestone, I need to tell you a key fact about myself: I hate kids. And I don't mean, "Oh, I'm too young to enjoy the presence of babies" or "Kids get on my nerves a little bit, but I love to marvel at how cute they are." Nah. Not so much. The only exception I make to this otherwise unwavering characteristic of my personality is that I love my niece and nephews to pieces, mostly, I presume, because they are my niece and nephews, and, therefore, are an extension of my awesomeness by proxy. If I decide to have children one day, I know I'll love them with all my heart, but because I'm not yet a parent, I don't know what that's like.

But I can't really deal with other people's children. I don't have the patience or the interest. I don't want to have my coworker throw ten thousand photos of her grandchildren in my face and expect me to comment enthusiastically on every single fucking last one of them. I don't want to be forced to hold someone else's baby. I don't want to sit next to screaming little mini heathens in a restaurant and be expected to find their blathering and screeching adorable. I don't want to be expected to babysit and occupy their attention when they come into my place of employment and are left unattended by their inept parents.

It's just not me. I recognize this as perhaps unusual, maybe even completely unorthodox. As a member of the female sex, I know I'm generally expected to have some sort of intrinsic maternal instinct at some point in my life. But at age 23, I don't. (To clarify, I'm not completely anti-children/anti-parenting: I think parents should dote on their kids and support their kids and think their kids are just the greatest fucking thing on earth since sliced bread, so if you happen to be a parent, and you're reading this, and you're a great parent--rock on. It's just that so often, people freak out over other people's babies and whatnot; I don't. And it doesn't really faze me that I don't have that inclination.)

All that being said, watching Homer do his thing and score this landmark goal, for me, is the closest thing I've ever felt to being proud of someone else's kid do something amazing. I love Homer so much. And if this is what having that misplaced maternal instinct feels like, then I'm going to be a kickass parent in the event that someday, Brian and I decide to give the whole bun-in-the-oven thing the old college try because to be honest with you, I just want to grab Homer, take him to a store, and tell him to pick out his favorite toy for doing such a great job. And maybe we can go for a Happy Meal and some ice cream afterwards. And, if we have time, maybe we'll even go to the park. And, oh geez, I heart you, Homer.

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.

Did that first period really just happen?

Did the Flames just score 30 seconds into the game, while Zetterberg, Leino, Lidstrom, and Rafalski were all just standing by, leaving half the net unguarded and essentially screening Ozzie from viewing the play?

Did Homer really just get a penalty for "retaliating" against bullshit from Giordano? The entire audience at Joe Louis Arena saw what happened, as evidenced from the booing. The Scrappy Octopi certainly saw what happened, as evidenced by the fact that we both screamed obscenties and/or barfed blood.

Did Brad Stuart's power play goal really just get disallowed because Dan Cleary was "preventing the goaltender from moving inside the crease" because the fucking heel of his left skate was inside the crease? The fucking left heel?! Did that really just fucking happen? I mean, I'm pretty sure that the laws of physics aren't suspended to the point at which Kiprusoff cannot move to his left if Cleary is standing directly in front of him. I feel like I'm huffing fucking paint here. Since when are we calling this rule into practice for screening in front of the goaltender? I'm at a fucking loss.

Did the referee, standing directly behind the fucking net, really not just call a penatly on Kiprusoff for slashing the back of Homer's calf, causing him to fall down? Again, the entire chorus of spectators saw this go down. We saw it go down on TV. What is happening?!

Did Pavel Datsyuk just inadvertedly redirect the puck into our own net?

Is Todd Bertuzzi trying to set a record for how many times one can go offsides during one period of play? Thanks a mil for breaking up that great rush midway through the first, Bert.

I will give 15 years off my life for the following to happen:

1. The Wings have to get back in this game. They simply have to. This is insanity. They had some decent chances during the power plays, but what happened during the first is just some crazy bullshit. They cannot let this prevent them from coming out swinging in the 2nd.

2. Sometime very soon, can Babcock please break up the abysmal 2nd power play unit of Cleary/Leino/Bertuzzi?! How is this a good idea? Dan Cleary, I get it. He's gritty, and he's the replacement Homer for screening. But Todd Bertuzzi and Ville Leino out there with him at the same time? Leino has the speed of an Amazonian three-toed sloth, and Bert just does absolutely nothing on the power play; the most he's ever going to do is be the 3rd best person on the team for doing what Homer does and Cleary kinda does, which is be the boss at disturbance in the crease. Leino and Bert have no business being on the ice together; the only time this should be allowed is if the Wings win a grueling game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals. Then they can come out and celebrate together. I'll be ok with that. I'm not even comfortable with them coming out on the ice at the same time to congratulate the goalie after an ordinary win. It's just too much of a recipe for disaster. This unit needs speed and playmakers. Put another one of the youngsters out there and sit Leino and Bert. Jesus Christ, replace everyone with Helm/Draper/anybody young not named Ville Leino. Just give someone else another chance. I'm sick of seeing these three fumblefuck around out there on the power play; every time Datsyuk and Zetterberg vacate the ice, I give up all hope that something's going to get done, unless it comes from the blueline. Speaking of the blueline, why in the fuck is Derek Meech on the 2nd unit?!

Anybody game for taking some double shots?