With this post I'd like to officially reintroduce The Scrappy Octopus back into the blog world!
You missed us, admit it.
Sure, we may have taken the off-season pretty much off...But we just didn't feel like posting the 300th opinion on Mike Modano's lengthy decision making process. Here we are though back and ready for another Wings season. What better way to kick it off than with our first game recap of the season? First, however, a little background on who we are (for those who may have forgotten). Pay close attention.
We are two people who happen to be gigantic Wingz fans. The site was created by Natalie, who just so happens to love Aaron Downie and Thomas Holmstrum. I have been a Wingz fan since I was a wee little kid. My favorite player growing up? Yzermen, of course. I always had a soft spot for Ozgood, as well. We started this little corner of the world as a place to rant and say ridiculous shit about hockey and the Wingz. We believe Babcoc and Hollend to be brilliant and the Wingz to be the best run organization in hockey. In short, we've fully digested the Kool-Aid and 100% bleed Red and White. Our blog doesn't accomplish much. We write ridiculous shit in a small corner of the web. We're all about having fun over here.
We also like to think we know a little about hockey.
One thing we'll never claim to be, though--the go-to place for all Red Wings-related things. We will, however, care about what we're doing. We watch games and we talk about it here. We watch for absurd memes (the Wings are old or no one is critical of the Wings! OH NOES!!!) and dissect them. In short, we're just fans with an outlet. Oh, and we'll always spell Wings-related names right. Cause, come on, dedicated folks would at least look that shit up right? Cause, if not, you'd just look absurd (I'm sure you cringed as you read my intro paragraph. See what I did there?).
We'll also promise to never start our own podcast. Ever.
With all that being said - Welcome back to us. We missed you folks.
Some random thoughts on last nights pre-season game:
1. The part of pre-season that fascinates me most (other than just being super pumped that hockey is back) is the young player development. On that note...Brendan Smith could use a year in Grand Rapids, am I right? He showed some 'WOW' potential, but looked kind of lost at times.
2. It was great to see, even in a pre-season game vs. Chicago's B team (or, as you could also call it, their 2nd-5th lines and farm system), the Wings completely dominate play.
3. The 4th line of Emmerton, Mursak, and Owens was pretty damn good, wasn't it?
4. Random question - Is it absurd to say that Joey MacDonald looked better last night than last season's mail-in version of Ozzie? If, god forbid, Jimmy went down...Would you place last season's Ozzie in net or a Joey Mac that actually gives a shit? This coming from an Ozzie apologist (who is curious to see Oz tonight).
5. You could bring back a few players from the last time Chicago won a Cup (prior to last year).....and I'm sure they would be miles ahead of some of the turds who suited up last night.
6. Is it too early to call for Tomas Tatar as President of Space? That kid is something else and looked explosive as hell out there.
7. Jonathan Ericsson. Come on, buddy. You're better than that.
You'll have to take all my above thoughts and dial them back by like half, since it was only a pre-season game against Chicago's B team.
Some random thoughts in preparation for tonight's game:
1. Top-liner Jordan Owens...that should be cute.
2. I'm interested to see Bert on the ice tonight. Win me over, sir. With the moves the Wings made in the off-season, bringing in Modano, getting Hudler back, and re-signing EVERYBODY, Bert seems unnecessary. Yeah, I know, he's there and I have to deal with that. Some player I'd rather see will sit most of the season so I can enjoy the Todd Bertuzzi experience nightly. You know, that rollercoaster of occasional greatness, coupled with longer periods of invisibility and dumb penalties.
3. I'm placing the over/under of Aaron Downey game time tweets from Nat at 6. Welcome back, Aaron. You were missed.
4. Also excited for my first pre-season peeks at Kindl, Ozzie, McCollum, and Andersson.
In closing....Go Wings. We're happy you're all back.
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.
Surprise! Your Scrappy Octopi, so seemingly full of joie de vivre, are actually elderly people (crotchety octopi!), approaching the century mark, and today, we’re announcing our retirement into an actual retirement community, which means we’ll no longer continue trekking along on this blog. How will we find the time? Our days will be filled with strenuous (wheelchair) rides to the common-area TV in time to catch The Price Is Right, followed up by an afternoon of my stories (fuck you, CBS, for canceling As the World Turns and Guiding Light…sheesh, almost as bad as NBC and Conan-gate); never mind that our evenings will be boisterous affairs, what with all the bingo and pancake suppers that will soon fill our social calendars. Sigh. It’s been real, readers.
Oh, bollocks. Of course we’re not hanging it up. And of course we’re not 100. It’s just that…our humble little blog here has turned 100, as in 100 posts! Yippee! (I mean, really: Could a senior citizen have the moves and finesse that B-Dawg exhibited during his dancing extravaganza?)
To commemorate this important milestone in TSO history:
1. Thank you to the readers who have placed TSO among the Wings blogs you read on the regular. I know we’ve said thanks before for various things. (Remember those Reader Appreciation Days? I don’t. They were that amazing, duuuuuuude. High five!) But taking a five-out for serious time: I mean, we don’t even always discuss hockey on here! (Like, er, this particular post. But really, would you rather me recap last night’s shit-tastic loss to the Islanders for post #100? 6-0? You know, the one in which a win would have bumped us to #8 in the West? Here goes: It blew ass. Or would you rather me distract you with my razzle dazzle, celebratory blah-blah-blah? That’s what I thought.)
2. TSO has existed for roughly three and a half months. In that short period of time, we’ve made connections with people, literally around the world; we’ve become part of an amazing community, full of knowledgeable and creative fellow bloggers and fantastic and witty readers alike. My understanding of how awesome the Wings’ fans’ community is increased tenfold when I joined Twitter and began participating in real-time conversations with many of you for the first time. Another solemn statement: You guys rock.
3. On a personal level, starting this blog is something I am so indescribably happy I finally did. I’ve always written about various things--privately, since being out of school--and since becoming a hockey fan, I’ve wanted to share my feelings and observations with the rest of Red Wings Nation. My biggest triumph, in reflecting on these first 100 posts, is that I feel Brian and I have managed to write in the matter in which we watch the game, which is to say, completely irreverently and acerbically. Is this everyone’s cup of tea? Doubtful. For fuck’s sake, I did put “balls” in the headline today. (And don’t forget Brian’s infamous “cock punch”, “shit the bed”, plus our various other diction choices that would force my mom to disown me and encourage George Carlin to adopt me from the grave.)
4. There are just so many damn good sites out there. Seriously. The pantheon of Wings’ sites runs deep with fans who know their hockey and write superbly and entertainingly. One of the most challenging things for me has been the stress of conveying our own voice in the midst of so many other blogs we admire. For example, if I’m planning on writing a game recap, and I don’t write and post it until the next day, I refrain from reading anybody else’s recaps before I write my own ideas, lest I get what one of my high school English teachers described as “tennis ball brain” (nope, the use of “ball” is not intended perversely this time, kiddos)—that is, the inability to extract your own ideas from somebody else’s that you read first. It’s difficult enough that we’re writing about, literally, the exact same things—the games we just watched, players who make us happy, players on our shit lists, and so forth. The point I’m making here is that writing and maintaining a blog has made me a better reader of other people’s work; I appreciate even more now the effort it takes to create your own, unique perspective, especially given the narrow niche of writing about a specific hockey team.
5. Blogging is harder than it looks from the outside. One of my friends has blogged for a couple of years now, and while I had a general idea of the time she invested in maintaining her site, creating content, and interacting with her readers, I never realized just how time-consuming it could become. Obviously, you can determine the posts on here that aren’t as well prepared (see one labeled “PashaPashaPasha” from back in the day, for example, or not, if you think the aforesaid title fully conveys the inanity). But really, the blog has become an extension of our experience as fans; it hasn’t taken over any particular part of my life, but rather, it’s enhanced the experience of watching a game. Now, instead of having only each other with whom to discuss the Wings, we can turn to the blog, put our thoughts out there, and talk it out with anyone who wants to participate. Face it: We’re all addicted to hockey. I wouldn’t spend hours writing on here, and you wouldn’t spend the time reading this and other sites, never mind talking about it on live blogs and Twitter and comment sections, if you weren’t a junkie, too. Blogging is the democratization of the experience of being a fan; we all have an outlet to express ourselves, no matter whose site we’re on, and for me, the ability to communicate with so many fellow addicts enriches the entire experience.
All of this is to express our thanks to the readers who support our site with their readership and commentary, and our fellow bloggers who have been supportive and helpful from day one with their shoutouts and feedback. If it weren’t for all of you, I’d have hung this up after 20 posts and gone back to talking to my dog about hockey. Don’t believe me? A snapshot of my life sans TSO:
Me: Why does Ville Leino suck at life, Lucy?
Lucy: [Quizzical expression.]
Me: I mean, why won’t he live up to his potential?
Lucy: [Sniffs my hair.]
Me: You know, I really didn’t mean that I hate-hate him; I guess I’m just disappointed.
Lucy: [Waltzes over to coffee table and puts her nose against her goody box. Conversation over. End scene.]
And now, please join The Scrappy Octopus for our fantabulous first-half-of-the-season review, to be told the only way we know how: through an inane blurb describing what happened during the first half of the season, which shall be reinterpreted through what we imagine to be the individual players' New Year's resolutions, which shall also double as our predictions/previously unspoken hopes for the latter half of this season.
(Note: I made an effort to focus on players who had received a decent amount of ice time during the first half of the season and/or will be returning soon, so no discussing the likes of Johan Franzen or Jakub Kindl or Mattias Ritola. The Mule, a.k.a. my second-favorite redhead after my partner-in-crime here, will have his own celebratory post upon his return.)
Nicklas Lidstrom
It's no secret that Nick hasn't had the most stellar season offensively. He hasn't scored a goal since...well, let's just say that Brian was sporting parachute pants, and I probably had a chin-length bob that I rocked with my Girl Power platforms (I'm nodding at you, Metal Spice) when we saw it last. We give him a pass to some extent because he's had to elevate his defensive play (wait, is that even possible?) due to injuries, which have managed to core the roster since October. Also, Nick has stayed busy earning assists left and right, so how much can we actually slight him for lack of goals scored of late? Still, as Chris over at Motown Wings pointed out yesterday in his fantastic recap of the first 41 games, Lidstrom and typical linemate Brian Rafalski have managed to earn the best plus/minus of the defensive pairings; conversely, Nick and Derek Meech are tied for the worst of all blueline partners. But really, do we ever actually blame anyone for anything when it involves Derek Meech? I'm pretty sure if you were on trial for the most heinous crime--I'm imagining genocide on the scale of hundreds of thousands of victims--and you could somehow insinuate on even the most circumstantial level that Mr. Meech made you do it or that he was simply present at one of your meetings calculating the megalomania, you would be issued the grandest pardon by the world's superpowers for not only accusing you inappropriately of such a disgusting crime, but, even more insultingly, for wasting your time with the judicial process. (Seriously, guys, keep that one in your back pocket--I know at least a couple of you out there are sketchy derelicts. If it works, here's an advance on an exploding fist bump, directed right your way.)
Resolution: To get over this scoring drought (duh) and to celebrate by making the sweetest form of cyborg love to his beautiful Valkyrie princess (seriously, have you seen his wife?!). Oh, and to look forward to the day when he can throw away his countdown calendar enigmatically labeled, "Days 'Til D.M. and D.J. Get the Fuck Out of My House and Return to G.R." Hmm...
Tomas HolmSTROM
I give Homer the next spot because I love him. Yeah, I say a lot of that on here, mostly sarcastically (do you really think I'd let Georges Laraque anywhere near my goods?!), but when I say I love Homer, I mean I love Homer, in the way that I imagine adoring a slightly older relative who is just really kickass, maybe the way Cody on Step by Step was adored by the denizens of the top two floors of the Duffy/Somers domain. (Dude-sy!)
This guy has had an incredible 41 games. He's the team leader in goals, and, despite the constant shuffling and reshuffling of line combinations, he's managed to maintain his role as official Boss of Net Disturbance (look it up). What makes this even more amazing--and I'm saying this with all the love in my heart that bubbles over whenever I do so much as even type his name--is that night after night, we watch him attempt to chase loose pucks and to outskate opponents, which just doesn't happen very often. We all know Homer is best when he's standing still, preferably in his "office", but an overall lack of chemistry and coherence due to iffy line combinations and a depleted lineup doesn't offer this as often as we'd like. Nevertheless, Homer works his ass off. During the last game, we were sitting at the bar watching the game, and I looked at Brian and said, "Homer is always straight up working his ass off." This isn't to suggest the guy hasn't had off nights--we remember several instances when all he had to do was tip the puck and bury it because his ass was on the receiving end of a mustache ride proffered by the opposing goaltender. But it doesn't matter. When you lead the team in goals and you continue to work hard, such transgressions are easily forgiven and (mostly) forgotten.
Resolution: To continue being such a badass at everything ever and to one day, be able to retire to his favorite new BFF, The Scrappy Octopi, who have generously offered him a per diem of $50, plus living expenses and a holiday stipend, to be our personal companion and guy-Friday. I'm looking forward to many years of him explaining to me how mean Swedish Santa Claus is.
I don't know how to feel about Pavs right now. I make it clear on here that he and Homer are my favorite players, so there's no way of getting around that, but he has had a sucky first half of the year. To put it into perspective, I have a dry erase board on which, prior to the beginning of the year, I had written a couple of pointless, mostly hyperbolic predictions ("Tomas Holmstrom will eat the souls of everyone who wrongs him between whistles and will urinate in their ashes!"), but one I thought actually achievable was Pavel notching 107 points this season, ten more than each of the individual, previous two seasons. Sigh. Those 107 points aren't going to score themselves, buddy.
On the other hand, it's hard to be overly critical of Datsyuk considering (A) the circumstances and (B) the fact that watching most games, he works hard, too. More often than not, he is attempting to make plays happen. The problem is they don't always...happen.
Resolution: To remind everyone why he was nominated for the Hart Trophy...oh, just a little more than six months ago. In other words: More shoot, Pasha. You still need more shoot.
Henrik Zetterberg
Prior to his Ohlund-inspired injury, Zetterberg, in true future-captain style, had made a role of doing that thing he always does during crucial, difficult times (think last year's playoffs): Taking on the role of offensive and defensive everything ever, basically attempting to be everywhere on the ice at all times, doing whatever necessary to keep the points on our side. He's simultaneously a playmaker and a strong defensive forward. And he does most of this quietly--of course, we all know how awesome Z is, but god knows he doesn't get the attention from the outside world that he deserves (or--sigh--that he may receive if he played for another team). Also worth remembering: Hank was the procurer of curly fries to the masses, something that hasn't been achieved again by anyone this season.
Resolution: To return to the ice in a blaze of glory so marvelous, we'll feel as if we have all been enveloped in one big, thick Hank sandwich. (Brian made me write that. He has such a huge man-crush. Do you think I really blame him?)
Todd Bertuzzi
It's difficult to write this without giggling. Who would have thought?
Resolution: You're in for a treat, heathens. I actually got a hand-written (with crayons...or, wait, I think he upgraded to pastels this time) note from Bert with his resolution. To wit:
To invest in a nice set of clippers, to make nice with the fans of Detroit once and for all by continuing to put his best face forward [giggle] on the ice, and to RSVP "affirmative" to this invite I got from one M. Petrella to a Brothers from Another Mother symposium this summer. Question: Is there swimming? Because you'll have to tell me if I can pack my mankini or if it's more of a strict bro-seph sitch where anything other than trunks is frowned upon.
Sounds like fun. Let us know how it goes, TPL?
Dan Cleary
Dan Cleary had frustrated the living fuck out of me prior to his injury (ugh, that we saw in person). This guy was white-hot during the playoffs last year, but came back with a fraction of the energy and grittiness we saw months ago. Most nights, he was invisible on the ice, especially as one of the veterans on the second power-play unit (Cleary-Bertuzzi-Leino) that made me want to reach for the nearest bottle of toxic substance and call the game right then and there.
Resolution: To drive the net more and to get the lead out while chasing pucks. You can't show us you have the ability to be practically superhuman in the spring and expect a free pass now, amigo.
Valtteri Filppula
The first of the long-term injured guys to return to the lineup, Fil made his presence known by notching an assist on countryman Ville Leino’s once-in-a-lifetime goal on New Year’s Eve. Prior to his injury, he had really gotten down to work, benefiting from more ice time due to the absence of Johan Franzen.
Resolution: Get back in the groove, V-Fil. (Sounds like an evil European villain, a la Simon Gruber, doesn’t it?)
Ville Leino
Oh, Ville, Ville, Ville. How you confound me, which is why I developed this pseudo-bonercrush to try to deal with my conflicted feelings toward you. (I mean...that's how you deal with confusion, right? You expel it via sexual congress? Right? Right?!) I want Ville to succeed, I really do; I'd rather the team be successful with him than me be right about him...while the team is still stuck with him. But really, how is it possible not to feel completely baffled by Leino? As we often note, he said last year it was Detroit or bust, then he got his chance in spades due to the lineup issues, and he has failed to succeed. Then, after getting benched by Babcock, he mumblefucked some nonsense about not being good at working hard on the fourth line. Jesus Christ, this guy has more identity issues than a country singer striving for an outlet via shitty alter ego.
(And another thing: Is anybody as troubled as I am by the fact that there is no good nickname to be derived from the name "Ville Leino"? I type Villster to be cute, but that secretly annoys me because if there's one thing I can't stand, it's nicknames that are longer than the actual formal name.)
Resolution: To stop toying with the hearts of the good people of Hockeytown and make a decision either to handle the responsibility he's been given accordingly or to release his Chris Gaines-esque studio album. Reach for the stars, Villster.
Darren Helm, Patrick Eaves, Drew Miller, and Justin Abdelkader
I group these cats together for obvious reasons: They're all young; it's their first regular season with the Wings (Helmer almost doesn't count, but whatever). And, most importantly, they are all achieving in a fantastic, albeit surprising, way. Truthfully, Helm's success is never a surprise, but who among us was really stoked at first about the signings of either Eaves or Miller?
How many times during the average game do you find yourself holding your breath and then releasing, thinking, thank god one or more of the above four names was on the ice to (A) score a goal or (B) make a major defensive play to prevent opposition scoring? Helm and Eaves were absolutely electric against the Coyotes on Saturday; they single-handedly prevented the Coyotes from capitalizing on power plays or sustaining momentum during particularly strong rushes. Abdelkader hasn't always been the most noticeable playmaker on the ice, but he continues to work hard, delivering hard hits, and his play has improved tenfold since his sloppy beginning this season. And Drew Miller, who came over from the Lightning on waivers? Yeah, the guy you never paid attention to beforehand, and maybe hadn't even heard of, but now can you honestly imagine our roster without him, considering the circumstances?
Resolution: To maintain the speed and energy that many of our players feed off of and to continue creating scoring chances and breaking up the momentum of our opponents. And yeah, I'd like to see these guys continue playing as if they know they'll all have a chance to stay in Detroit once the dust clears. Why? Because I like all four of them, and with the way they're playing, especially in light of certain other players sucking ass (ahem, Ville), who gives a fuck who it is who's showing up, as long as it works? It's like being forced to watch The Young and Restless on CBS when you're used to watching Days of Our Lives on NBC. Yeah, it's not exactly your cup of tea at first, but hey, it's still a soap opera, and it was once good enough for Eva Longoria-Parker to grace, and for Christ's sakes, at least it isn't one of those horrid show-your-hooha reality shows those youngsters are watching nowadays.
Kris Draper and Kirk Maltby
Likewise, I group these two together because they have a few more rings around the old tree and because they've both had unsurprisingly average first halves. Both began the season strong, and I think at one point, Maltby had the second- or third-most goals, but to be honest, I don't notice when they're on the ice anymore, unless I happen to see Draper flying around after someone (goddamn, he's still so fast) or Maltby telling someone to "fuck off" between whistles. I like both of them a lot. I guess that's all I really have to say.
Resolution: To put points on the board? I don't know. I read somewhere once that Malts is a big fan of Caribou Coffee. Maybe he'll take me for a Caramel Highrise sometime. Much love, #18.
Brian Rafalski, Brad Stuart, Niklas Kronwall, Jonathan Ericsson
Also known as..."Blueliners Not Named Nicklas Lidstrom Who Don't Suck." Creative, yes?
So, yeah, they don't suck. Stuart started off in a sluggish, sloppy manner for the first handful of games, but has since elevated his game to a pitch worthy of a true force of nature. He's hitting harder and moving faster and providing more offensive presence than any of his defensive counterparts. Rafalski's had kind of a weird season, vascillating between awesome offensive moves (passing 2/3 of the way up the ice and earning an assist) and creating un-Raf-like major defensive blunders, resulting in goals by the opposition. Kronwall was being Kronwall before his injury sidelined him; likewise with Ericsson, although it seemed that for every whistle blown, an angel lost his/her wings, and Big Rig earned 1.7 billion dumbass penalties.
Resolution: To play tighter games and to generate more offensive presence; this should be easier once Kronwall and Ericsson return to the lineup. Lidstrom, Rafalski, and Stuart have had their ice times lengthened considerably since their cohorts' respective depatures; their imminent returns should ease much of the pressure that's been placed on the non-injured defensemen.
Brett Lebda
Also known as..."Blueliner Who Sorta Kinda Sucks."
Brett's the Ville of the defensive squad. I just don't know what to think of him. He's still usually unimpressive. He still gets caught pinching (who is he, Mike Green?). But every now and then, he's come up big in crucial moments and actually...played defense. The mind reels.
Resolution: To...play defense, right? Isn't that his position?
Derek Meech and Doug Janik
Also known as..."Blueliners Who Almost Always Suck."
Before Saturday's game, I probably would have paired Meech with Lebda above, but I just can't handle him. I really can't. To be fair, he hasn't pissed me off nearly as many times as I initially imagined; however, he still sucks. He's the defensive Toby Flenderson to my Michael Scott (yep, Ville's still the offensive Toby, thanks for checking). Besides, didn't I already talk about Meech earlier? You can't possibly expect me to write more than one thing about him per decade. I guess this is it for the twenty-teens.
And Doug Janik? Not ready for primetime, but what, is he like 47 years old? Mr. Janik caused me to impulsively shout at the bar on Saturday (after his ridiculous turnover right in front of the net), "I'm going to kill you, Doug Janik!" at which point several groups of people turned to look at me, then they noticed I was watching hockey, and they all breathed a collective sigh of relief/understanding.
Resolution: Whatever. Return from whence you came.
Chris Osgood
Oh, Ozzie. We have a ridiculous soft spot for Ozzie, along the same lines of my adoration for Pasha and Homer. So many of us feel that way about him, no matter how infuriating he can be during the regular season. Andy over at Fight Night at the Joe observed in his first-half recap that Ozzie hasn't played as poorly of a regular season as he did last year; still, when the number of games he's played out of the last 20 can be counted on one hand, I'm not sure it makes me feel any better.
Resolution: To perfect his time machine prototype to set worldwide clocks forward to approximately April 15. Oh, and to totally razz Jimmah by replacing all the numbers on the speedometer on his helmet with "69". He fucking hates that.
Jimmy Howard
Jimmy has been absolute lightning as of late, making insane stops and even adding his first NHL shutout to his resume. Where would we be without Jimmy right now?
Resolution: To keep up the good work. And to punk that Osgood bastard by interrupting his Zen naps before games he starts with a foghorn blast to the ears. That'll show him.
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.)
If your mascot is named Finn the Whale, you deserve the verb "harpoon".
Somehow, the Wings managed this win, despite getting completely outshot and outworked for much of the game. Jimmy Howard played extremely well for the second night in a row (although he had much more work to do in last night's game than in Columbus); he even earned himself his first career assist on Niklas Kronwall's empty-netter. I wish I could find a video of Henrik Zetterberg's GWG; it was one of my favorite goals thus far this season.
Tomas Holmstrom scored the first goal of the game. He's still leading the team in season goals. My heart is smiling.
Tomorrow night, the Wings take on the Anaheim Ducks for the first time this season. This is the third team in my top tier of hatred. Expect something fun tomorrow pre-game.
***
So, now I want to take a minute to get all sentimental with you guys. I've been doing this blogging thing for almost two months now. I started it as a way to stop irritating non-hockey fans in my life with my endless blather for 3/4 of the year (and if you're interested in the whole long story of my hockey fandom, you can read it here). Still, I wasn't sure anyone would actually want to read the sometimes inane, often irreverent, almost always inappropriate prattling that I put out there. Ever since my bestest showed me how to check the stats on Google Reader to see how many subscribers a particular blog has, I've been neurotically checking it to see if people are ready my stuff. And you are! This little, scrappy blog, created by a person who's not from Michigan but still loves the Red Wings more than life itself, has real, actual readers. (Or maybe just cyborgs who enjoy reading this nonsense. But whatever. Onward and upward.) So, thanks, people. It hits me right here.
Now, Jesus H. Christ. Because this site is not called the SAPPY Octopus, and in celebration of this impromptu Reader Appreciation Day, how about some free sketchy punch, hookers, and BJs*? Really. It's on The Scrappy Octopus's tab.
Oh, and for the ladies--I wouldn't dream of leaving you out of this one. Levi Johnston's Playgirl shoot reportedly involves a hockey stick. More details as they emerge, and, of course, complimentary copies of the issue for everyone once it's published. What? That doesn't do it for you? OK. Well, we've still got this guy. You're welcome.
*As in Columbus Blue Jackets. They want to hang out. Wait, what? You thought I meant...? GASP. I'm appalled at you people, really. Sickos.
Tonight, the Wings meet up with Edmonton for the first time this season.
There's all kinds of talk about the fear of catching swine flu, specifically because the Wings are playing Edmonton, which apparently is a heeby-jeeby H1N1 hotbed. Ick...
Me? I kinda got nothing today. I'm gearing down for the game tonight, but today is one of those days when work is turning my brain into goo. Is it feasible to quit and become a professional fan?
I did want to point out that Pavel Datsyuk had put out several awesome quotes into the universe over the course of this week, the first before the Vancouver game on Tuesday, re: Mikael Samuelsson (per George Malik):
I see he's playing well, but now he's no friend of mine.
“I’m a shooter now, shooter,” Datsyuk said. “I’m happy to shoot. I need more shoot. I’m looking forward to shoot. Sometimes I shoot, sometimes I forget I need to shoot -- maybe I make it tattoo.”
Thatta boy, Pasha. Love this guy. You need more shoot? Here you go:
***
I have a good feeling about the game tonight; I've been experiencing all kinds of auspicious signs. Well, ok, TWO auspicious signs, but whatevs:
1. There's a guy at my place of employment right at this very moment who sounds just like Cameron from Ferris Bueller's Day Off. I kid you not. And we KNOW that guy had excellent taste. Fuuuuck yeah:
2. I head heard (heh, heh) Ted Nugent on the radio today. "Cat Scratch Fever". Yeah. That happened. Why does it matter? Incidentally, he's from Michigan, AND I have permanent dibs on him, two very good reasons why this counts as a positive sign.
***
LET'S GO, WINGS.
And now, to get us really, really psyched, it's time for the old standby:
***
All right, Michigan inhabitants, I'm going to post something at the end of all my posts directing you to another post in which I beseech you for your opinion on a hotel The Scrappy Octopi are considering for our December jaunt to Detroit. Just a quick yes or no on whether the place in question is sketchy. I will do this on every post; I have no pride...or shame.
OK, first things first: I'm watching the Toronto @ Anaheim game on PTDucks, and I swear to Christ, the announcer just said, "Uh-oh, look out, cookout" during a Toronto breakaway.
The fuck?
Oh, can we also talk about the cast of Cold Case dropping the puck at the beginning of the game? Goddamnit, I hate the Ducks.
***
OK, for those of you who have so graciously refraining from X-ing out of this window due to obscene levels of bullshit, THANK YOU--and now I have a question that I invite any and all Motown denizens to answer.
We, the Scrappy Octopi(?), are headed to the Motor City in December to celebrate early the birthday of yours truly by attending two games at the Joe, and we need suggestions for a decent hotel. When we stayed in February, we stayed in Roseville; however, this time, we'd prefer to stay someplace either in or closer to the city proper.
I read some good things on Yelp about the Milner Hotel in downtown and found a reasonable deal online for our extended stay, but I wanted to get some honest opinions first before making a decision.
Here is a brief list of my requirements for a good hotel:
(A) I don't want to get stabbed.
(B) I don't want to get crotchrot. (I like having to work for my crotchrot.)
(C) I would, preferably, enjoy being close to stuff, as I/we plan on getting wasted during/after Wings games and wouldn't want to drive 20+ miles like we did during our last stay.
So, Detroiters, please weigh in with your honest opinions; any suggestions for someplace else are welcome, as well. Thanks a million in advance.
(You'll note that getting bicycles thrown at me is omitted from the aforesaid list. I do not mind if this happens to me again.)
To provide a salty and sardonic take on the hockey world and to share the love with other Wingnuts.
We vow never to be boring, but to strive always for excellence in entertaining your socks off (but just your socks--let's not get too personal).
We make no warranties or representations about the usefulness of this blog for decent people. It is intended for use by rabblerousers, derelicts, and belligerents, or, at least, normal people who like rabblerousers, belligerents, and derelicts.
Enjoy! And remember: LET'S GO, WINGS.
Love always, The Scrappy Octopus
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Have a marvelous Thanksgiving! Go Wings.