Amazing Read: “No goons, just good”

Posted on September 26, 2013 by Cam

I have followed Nick Cotsonika’s writing for some time. The connection is obvious — he held my dream job as Red Wings beat writer for the Detroit Free Press from 1999-2005 and penned a book on the best hockey team ever assembled in history, the 2002 Red Wings. Now, he writes for Yahoo! as its national hockey columnist.

Today, he published a great piece. It’s one of those articles that I will read over and over again, probably for years to come. Why? Easy. It explains not only a major reason why I love the Red Wings but also why I despise so many other teams in the league.

No goons, just good: Red Wings’ winning ways fights NHL belief that every team needs enforcer

Here’s a great excerpt:

There is no debate that many fans like fighting. There is no debate that fighting can intimidate and play a role in team toughness. There is no debate that there are different ways to build a successful organization.

But do you need fighting to sell the game to hardcore hockey people? Do you need it to win? Does it necessarily protect your skilled players? No. It can even be counterproductive.

Detroit loves a good fight. It has a scrappy, underdog image. It has a rich boxing history, once the home of Kronk Gym and Emanuel Steward and Tommy ‘Hitman’ Hearns. The Wings play in an arena named after Joe Louis, and a huge sculpture of his fist hangs in the heart of the city.

The Joe rocks like anyplace else for a fight. Some of the most popular Wings have been guys who could punch – Bob Probert, Darren McCarty, Brendan Shanahan – and a couple of the most memorable moments in Wings history were line brawls against the blood rival Colorado Avalanche.

Yet the Wings have hardly dropped the gloves over the last couple of decades, the Joe has been sold out for virtually all of that time, and the fans have embraced peaceful, graceful players like Nicklas Lidstrom, Pavel Datsyuk and Henrik Zetterberg, too.

Why? The Wings have won.

Find the rest of the article here.

As a hockey player growing up, I shied away from the physical aspects of the game. Despite growing to nearly six feet by the middle of high school, I didn’t like to hit people. Sometimes, I think it was instinct or intuition that kept me from being a blue-line bruiser — especially after I found out at 16 that I was born with fused vertebrae in my spine and actually shouldn’t have been hitting people due to the risk of a paralyzing injury (in fact, I should have never played competitive hockey at all).

But beyond that, the sport’s appeal to me has always been the skill of the game.

As a hockey fan, I appreciate toughness (see: Nick Lidstrom in 2009) and revenge (see: March 26, 1997), but I have no tolerance for and no interest in fighting for fighting’s sake or bruising goons taking roster spots from real hockey players (see: John Scott, Shawn Thornton, many others). It’s why I can’t stand the Bruins and the way they play, despite my many years in New England. It’s why I hate Boston fans that wear “Lucic Fight Club” t-shirts and pump their fists for fights but merely clap for goals. Go watch the MMA, you trolls. Hockey offers something more.

Skating and stopping, spraying flakes of ice up the boards. Giving and receiving a crisp, cross-ice pass that connects in stride. Sniping the top corner from the slot or winding up for a rocket slapshot at the point. Handling the puck on a string, as if it were glued to the blade’s tacky tape. These are my favorite things about hockey. These also describe the greatest strengths of the Red Wings and my favorite players of all-time: Steve Yzerman, Pavel Datsyuk, Nicklas Lidstrom, Henrik Zetterberg, Sergei Fedorov.

Nick Cotsonika captured all of that in his article today, and it’s worth reading. Check it out.

Go Wings.

(Note: Much respect to the Bruins fans that actually like hockey, many of whom are friends. You help me keep my sanity in this crazy town).

Poem: Brighton Life

Posted on September 23, 2013 by Cam

There is something so serene

about a mid-morning walk around the Reservoir.

Crisp air, blue sky, happy dogs,

and water that shimmers like a thousand flashbulbs at Yankee Stadium.

Wildlife gather in groups,

like the ducks huddled on windy rock planks, beaks tucked in feathers to stay warm,

or the turtles sunning in the weeds, tiny heads and round shells crest the surface.

Quiet sounds interrupt the silence,

as running shoes crunch sand, keys jingle in pockets, and moments of pop music escape noisy earbuds.

A pause at walk’s end

shows Gasson Hall peaking above the trees, as if the branches decided together precisely how high to grow.

These are Lists

Posted on September 12, 2013 by Cam

Skills I Want to Monetize:

Golf ball juggling (like Tiger)

Placing actors from one movie to the next, even when they look completely different — While watching new trailer for ‘Rush‘ on TV… “That lead actor, not Hemsworth, that’s that sniper Nazi guy from Inglourious Basterds!” (See also: Identifying celebrity voices from commercials)

Half-court basketball shots and between-the-legs layups

Knowledge of NHL players and jersey numbers (specifically from 1994-2003)

Places I Feel Most Uncomfortable:

Doctor’s office (as a patient)

Roller coasters

Out at sea

Handicapped bathroom stalls (re: fear of being that guy when someone actually needs it)

Communion lines

Actions That Bother Me:

Open-mouthed chewing

Walking/driving/talking slowly

Not moving when seats on train/bus become available

Undercooking bacon

Asking questions when you don’t care about the answer

College Football: The Latest Frontier of Haves and Have-Nots

Posted on August 25, 2013 by Cam

College Football: The Latest Frontier of Haves and Have-Nots

In today’s Sunday Times is an incredible story about ESPN and its influence on college football. It’s one of those dazzling long-reads with fascinating details and several themes explored throughout. I found it particularly compelling to read about the rise of TCU and Boise State, through working with ESPN, and the fall of less-exciting teams and conferences, like New Mexico State and the WAC.

I shake my head with much of the nation at all of the conference realignment news — Maryland and Rutgers to the Big Ten for a total of 14 teams?? — but I never connected the dots: this article highlights the significance of ESPN in shaping those changes.

The Worldwide Leader has led college football to follow the national economic trend, where our country is plagued with Haves and Have Nots. As a result, our top colleges are fighting for a piece of the ESPN pie at the expense of more pressing matters.

Happy Birthday to the Magic Man

Posted on July 20, 2013 by Cam

Thirty-five years ago, Pavel Datsyuk was gifted to this world.

Today is his birthday, which offers a well-timed opportunity to write and recall a few of the reasons he stands in rarefied air with Steve Yzerman, the only two men I would consider for favorite Red Wings of all-time.

Someday I will write about him in full, but for now here’s a few highlights, favorite plays, and memorable quotes from his interviews with Dmitry Chesnkov at Puck Daddy:

Might as well start with his dangles, dekes, plays, passes, speed, steals, and takeaways. I have never watched anyone more exciting play hockey than Pavel Datsyuk. I watch him every game, and I doubt anyone will ever surpass him. There are so many plays that he makes that never make the highlight reels, but here’s a few great ones that did.

He gives fantastic interviews, and he goes them regularly. Dmitry Chesnokov gets a hold of Pavel at least a couple times a year to post a Q&A with Datsyuk, and the ensuing writeup always yields a few gems.

Who is the toughest defenseman to play against in the NHL?

Once again, I really cannot name one. All of them are like an insurmountable wall to me! — February 2009, Pt. 1

What’s the best joke you’ve made, or heard, about Chris Chelios’ age?

I am trying to remember one right now. I don’t think it’s a joke, but Chelios missed the team meeting yesterday. Maybe he forgot. — February 2009, Pt. 2

For the second season in a row you are leading the league in “plus/minus…”

Are you my enemy? Did you call to jinx me? — April 2009

Where would it be possible to see a statue of Pavel Datsyuk?

“I don’t think you will see it anywhere. And if you do, it will probably be made of paper. Cardboard paper. I am a cardboard player.” — October 2011

Tell us more about your job at Tim Horton’s the other day.

“Well, next year maybe we will have a lockout. So, maybe I will have to work part time somewhere. I am trying to find myself, trying to find the best fit, the best profession for the lockout. It was important to get some experience. Some guys were finding themselves at tire places, and I always wanted to learn the back end of how coffee is prepared and served. — October 2011

If you had a chance to have dinner with any person you wish, who would it be and what would you talk about?

I would really want to have one more dinner with my parents. What would we talk about? It’s too difficult to say. I think we would just sit and look at each other. It would also be great to have dinner with Winston Churchill. I think he was a great speaker and I love his quotes. I think he would be a very interesting person to have a conversation with. — March 2012

Henrik Zetterberg was named team captain this season. How did he transition to being the captain?

“How? He cut out the letter “C” and stitched it on to his jersey, that’s how. — July 2013

(More Chesnokov interviews of Datsyuk on Puck Daddy: January 2010, March 2011, September 2011 (after the Lokomotiv plane crash), August 2011, May 2013)

Happy birthday, Pavel Datsyuk!

Ask Why I Tweet, not What I Tweet

Posted on July 19, 2013 by Cam

The digital clock below my speedometer reads 11:23. Its tiny orange lines stare back, motionless.

I press my foot down and hold it there, steady and heavy on the gas. I’m humming up the left lane of I-95: Sun glinting off the blue hood, heat waving up and over the short body of my Mini Cooper, cool air flushing through the A/C.

It’s Friday, Fourth of July weekend, and we’re headed up to Maine for a secluded stay on the beach with family. Secluded: I pause on the word, hoping Phippsburg has at least a shred of cell service.

I check the car’s digital clock again: 11:29. I can’t hold out any longer. I lean right, pull my phone from its pocket and hand it to Ellen, the heroine of this tale.

“Will you please check Twitter for me?”

Ellen taps in my annoyingly long password and opens the app.

“The Red Wings signed ‘DAlfredsson11’…do you know who that is?”

“WHAT?! They signed Daniel Alfredsson? Are you sure?”

She confirms, naming five, six, seven other credible sources. I push the Mini to 85 and let out a whooping screech, followed by a nerdy little fist pump.

And so the fun began. I gave in exactly thirty one minutes before the official start of hockey’s free-agent frenzy, and I blame Twitter.

The first news that reached me on that fun-tastic, Twitter-filled Friday.

There is a sizable stubborn cohort that says no to social media. No tweets, no Facebooking, and certainly no SnapChat.

Many do it for good reasons: the simplest of which is that they don’t want to spend their time that way. I respect that. This isn’t my diatribe about how everyone should be online — friending and posting and buying up domain names. I like people who value face time more than Facebook time.

No, it’s the group that smirks, the group that sniggers, the group that asks the same question whenever they find out about my social habits online — that’s the group that bugs me.

“So… What do you tweet about?”

I never know quite what to say, and that’s because it’s the wrong question.

“So…What do you tweet about?”

It’s the wrong question. The people that ask, they don’t get it. They don’t understand what Twitter offers, why it exists, why it is popular.

Twitter isn’t about me. I don’t tweet anything of particular importance. I’m not a visionary. My thoughts are not profound. Twitter is the community that I subscribe to; it is the river of information that flows precisely for me. I take and take and take and take and take — and then sometimes I give a little bit.

You know those moments when someone says something to you, something that just resonates? I feel that regularly on Twitter. There’s one right up there from @TheTripleDeke.

Without that group of Red Wings disciples, my hockey-watching experience is insane. Seriously. I sit by myself, yelling and screaming obscenities at tiny figures on the TV. I’m kiiind of a crazy person. But on Twitter, I’m in the trust tree — listening and hanging out with other people who throw shit all over the room when the Red Wings lose. It’s like I’m almost normal.

The best thing about Twitter? It doesn’t discriminate. If you like sports, bad TV shows, assholes on bad TV shows, news, celebrities, jokes — it’s all there. And most importantly, it’s all exactly what you choose.

Twitter feeds you stories you’d never see and offers access to people you’d never meet. In about 20 seconds on Twitter, I can find out what Malcolm Gladwell is thinking, what Charlie Pierce is writing, what Tim Tebow is praying, even what Alison Brie is wearing. Celebrities and professional athletes abound on Twitter. They talk to fans, share photos, hold contests and post the daily doldrums of their lives. It’s like having your own episode of Hollywood Insider every day, except they only talk about the people you care about. For Datsyukian fanboys like me around the world, that means I can come across photos of my favorite hockey player reeling in a big fish during the offseason.

Dangling extraordinaire @Datsyuk13 is enjoying his summer.

Twitter gives me ammunition for arguments (why Phil Mickelson won’t win the British Open this year), laughs to pass on (a Vine mashup of Peggy and Don Draper) and images or videos to spark conversation with friends (like the ridiculous chemical technology that is NeverWet).

Twitter directs me through the inane traffic of the Internet like a string of lucky just-green lights. When I have minutes to spare in my morning routine and want a smart article to read over breakfast, @FastCompany is there with a quick blog post.

When it’s Christmas in July and NHL players are signing with new teams in a free-agent frenzy and I’m up in the boondocks of Maine…Twitter changes everything. A swipe and a quick read is all I need to check every detail, every rumor and report, and see every quote from the ensuing conference call.

All of this — everything that I receive from this amazing community — is what compels me to give back with what little I have to offer. An interesting article here, a comment on breaking news there, even the occasional blog post. My thoughts and messages pool into a bigger conversation that friends, fans, anyone can subscribe to @CameronMKittle. This is why I tweet.

And that’s the right question.

Eight Years is Too Much Tuukka Time

Posted on July 11, 2013 by Cam

The Bruins signed Tuukka Rask today to an extension for eight years and $56 million.

To be sure, Tuukka’s earned it. He had a great season and led his team within the grasp of a championship. The Bruins made him prove his value with a one-year deal last year, and Tuukka responded with his career-best. But the team also has no viable option to fill his spot in net if they chose negotiation hardball, which tipped the leverage scale fully in Tuukka’s favor. It’s a spot in life that sports fans refer to as, “The Flacco.”

Signing him is smarter than letting him walk. Simply put, the Bruins had to pay Tuukka to remain a Cup contender. And that’s what they did.

But the deal is reminiscent of goaltenders past, and Bruins fans should be uneasy about this contract, especially when you look at the last five long-term contracts given to goaltenders.

2006: New York signs Rick DiPietro for 15 years and $67.5 million at age 24. Let’s get this one out of the way first, since it might be the worst contract in sports history. It’s not remotely a comparison to Tuukka’s deal, but you can’t bring up bad goalie contracts and start with anything but DiPietro. He played two seasons and 125 games after signing the deal before injuries ruined his career. He’s played 50 NHL games in the past five years.

2008: Pittsburgh signs Marc Andre-Fleury for 7 years and $35 million at age 23. This deal appeared perfect after the first year, when ~~Fleury helped the Penguins win a Stanley Cup~~ ABSOLUTELY NOTHING HAPPENED ESPECIALLY NOT ANYTHING LIKE THIS OH GOD PLEASE MAKE THE BAD MAN STOP.

But more recently, Fleury has been a sad pillowy excuse for a goaltender. He completely shot down any chance the Penguins’ had in the playoffs last year by allowing 30 goals in six games, and then he blew up again this year against the Islanders, losing the starting job to Brent “Really? You seriously want me to play? I’m your best chance?” Johnson. Fleury’s contract is damning evidence that goalies deserve no more than five-year deals.

2010: Vancouver signs Roberto Luongo for 12 years and $64 million at age 31. Look, you don’t even sign a fucking accountant to a 12-year deal at age 31. This had bad idea written all over it. Again, no significant comparison to Tuukka’s deal but it’s worth sharing because Luongo also lost the starting job several years into the deal and basically became impossible to trade solely due to the contract.

2011: Philadelphia signs Ilya Bryzgalov for 9 years and $51 million at age 31. “Hey! Wait a minute! This looks a lot like the last guy’s contract…” Yeah, it’s a good thing teams learn from each other’s mistakes. Nope. The signing of Bryzgalov basically exploded the Flyers’ stacked roster of 2011 (Goodbye to Jeff Carter and Mike Richards, who reunited in LA to win a Cup..) and now the Mad Russian has already been bought out. Yikes.

2011: Nashville signs Pekka Rinne for 7 years and $49 million at age 29. This is the deal I would correlate most with Tuukka’s contract, although Rinne is a bit older (and a bit more proven with more than a couple Vezina-caliber full seasons at the point of signing). This year, Rinne’s first after signing the deal, he went 15-16-8. The Predators hope it’s an aberration, but history is not on their side.

I highlight these horrible contracts not to criticize Tuukka but to caution the Bruins. It’s too late, I know, but it’s clear to me that they should have fought harder to knock a few years off that deal, even if that meant more money and a higher cap hit.

Is Tuukka worth it right now? Absolutely. But trouble could be on the horizon, especially if the Bruins’ stockpile of goalie prospects matures quickly. With Malcolm Subban and Niklas Svedberg waiting a league below, it makes more sense to sign Tuukka for five years. That may never have been an option — or at least, not an option if they wanted Tuukka to stick around — but it feels like the Bruins didn’t try hard enough to make the smartest available move.

Things You Can Say About The 2013 Detroit Red Wings

Posted on May 30, 2013 by Cam

They failed to win the Stanley Cup. They lost their last three games. They blew a commanding series lead. They couldn’t beat the Chicago Blackhawks four times in seven games. They fell one game short of the Western Conference Finals.

They made youthful mistakes. They took dumb penalties. They made bad passes that made me cringe and grab the nearest pillow for dear life. They gave pucks away. They relied too much on talent. They didn’t work hard enough to win every game.

They had more injuries than any team in the league. They fought through them. They won four straight games when doubt finally crept in, and they kept the playoff streak alive.

They surprised everyone. They outplayed and outclassed the Anaheim Ducks. They responded in the third period of tonight’s Game 7. They gave everything in that third period. They were on the wrong side of a deflection in overtime. They were on the right side of the officiating at 1:47 of the third. They made a playoff run that few predicted.

They had grit. They had energy. They played fast. They played heavy. They hit. They scored. They thanked their fans.

They have a Russian who brings great joy and unfathomable goals, like the two off-kilter lasers he flicked top shelf against Anaheim and Chicago. They have a goalie who earned every penny his new contract pays. They have players with animal nicknames, like Goose and Mule, who have tremendous skill. They have men who grew manly red beards. They have an aloof Swiss softie who shined in shootouts and sudden death. They have a coach who told the sugarless truth, always with credit and class. They have a captain who responded in big moments and led by example.

They made me feel sad and angry and frustrated. They crushed me. They made me feel happy and lucky and proud. They fulfilled me. They made me smile and shout and dance with delight in the middle of the night.

They are my team. They always will be.

A Third Period In Five Stages

Posted on May 28, 2013 by Cam

Last night’s Game 6 loss was painful in every way possible.

The Red Wings blew it. Plain and simple. They fought back to tie the game after an up-and-down first period; they earned a lead after a solid second period; but then they sent me into spirals of rage and frustration with a ridiculous third period.

You always hear about the five stages of grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance. I’m probably trivializing someone’s important work by making a sports correlation, but I’d like to present the five stages of last night’s third period, which had just about everything…except anything good. In quotes is my inner (and sometimes outer) monologue.

Denial (19:09, 3rd). “Oh, shit, they tied it up! No way. What a waste of a good second period. Brendan Smith is such an idiot. WHY did he leave his guy all alone there? Ugh. Jesus. Well, they had a goal to spare. There’s no way they play this bad for the whole period. Just keep working in the corners, play like you did before, this’ll all be good.”
Anger (14:20, 3rd). “Wait…that’s offsides. How did the refs not see that? Oh, crap, well just clear it. Get it out…come on…F#@K! WHAT THE F#@K! HOW DOES THAT HAPPEN! SMITH! SMITH! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! BICKELL SUCKS! AHHHHHH!” (Screaming tirade, thrown pillows, whacked sides of couches, stomped feet, more expletives. This continues for many minutes).
Depression (10:17, 3rd). “Yup. Of course that’s a penalty shot. Why bother keeping the game fair and close and objective…yup just give him a penalty shot so he’ll probably score even though Frolik’s awful…yup, he scored. Good. This is good.”
False Hope (00:51.9, 3rd). “Nice shot, Brunner! OK…they can tie this, then end it in overtime. Icing…OK, let’s go Wings, you got this…icing again, alright, just win the faceoff…OK, well bring it back up with some urgency…or just lose. Yeah, that’s great. That’s what I wanted the whole time. No, seriously, thanks Brunner. Thanks for scoring and bringing us within one with just enough time left that some sliver of hope emerges from my somersaulting stomach. That’s what I was hoping for. Fantastic feeling right now.”
Ang-pression (Final: Chicago 4, Detroit 3). There is no acceptance. There is never acceptance. Fact: June 12, 2009 still haunts me.

Everybody loves a Game 7, right Babs?

“I love Game 7s. I’m excited about it. We got a chance to push them out of the playoffs. Should be a lot of fun.”

Go Wings.

Stupid-stitious

Posted on May 27, 2013 by Cam

“That’s just crazy,” Ellen says to me on Saturday night.

I started to explain, but then stopped. She wouldn’t understand. Probably because I am a little crazy.

See, I have this deep-set belief that everything I do in life – every act big and small – has some sort of effect on how my beloved Detroit Red Wings perform on the ice.

On Saturday, when the Wings played the Chicago Blackhawks’ petulant style of hockey and lost, 4-1, in Game 5 of the Western Conference Semifinals, I was certain that the loss was partially due to several things I did that day.

The mistake was mentioning to my fiancée.

“I knew I shouldn’t have gone to the gym today. I didn’t go to the gym any of the past three games, and they won all of those.”

“That’s just crazy,” she says.

Now, I know she’s right. It is truly crazy for me to think that my daily activities can affect the play of 26 professional hockey players 800 miles away.

But my superstitious nature reigns. Here’s what I have told myself in the past four weeks, followed by what Ellen (or any other sane person) might say in response.

I went to the gym last Thursday and on Saturday, and the Red Wings lost Games 1 and 5. When I didn’t go any of the days in between, they won three games! You didn’t go to the gym all winter and skipped out all spring. They made a miraculous run to the playoffs and won a first-round series in an upset. Your attendance at the gym has nothing to do with the Red Wings.

When I check Twitter and tweet mid-game, the Red Wings lose. When I retweet The Triple Deke, they win. Your memory is selective. Wins and losses have happened under both of those circumstances.

My new Zetterberg Winter Classic jersey is lucky. I wore it for Game 4 and they won. You’ve worn it once.

My old-school Fedorov white jersey is unlucky. I wore it for Game 5 and they lost. Again, you’ve worn it once in these playoffs. How do you not see the crazy?

Every time the Red Wings have won in these playoffs, I’ve worn boxers with some sort of red. My “Ho-Ho-Ho” Christmas boxers are 4-0. Every time the Red Wings have lost in these playoffs, you’ve also been wearing boxers with some sort of red in them.

But every time they win, I’m wearing Red Wings gear! Some sort of jersey or shirt. You’re always wearing some sort of Red Wings jersey or shirt. Didn’t we just go over this with your Fedorov jersey?

These examples, all in these 2013 playoffs alone, should be enough to sway me to sanity. I’ve tried repeating the mantra: The daily happenings of my life do not impact the Red Wings, The daily happenings of my life do not impact the Red Wings.

I try, but I can’t stomach it. Stupid-stitious triumphs.

Every time the Wings win, I brought them luck. My lucky pin, my lucky boxers, my lucky jersey. Everyone rejoice. We all played our part. You’re welcome.

Every time they lose, it’s because I went to the freaking gym. Why does exercise have to ruin everything? Wasn’t this shirt lucky before? I could have sworn I put my Red Wings socks on left then right today. AND I tapped my Red Wings bowling ball twice. Guess those tricks have lost their luck. Maybe I’ll try green boxers for the next game. But the Blackhawks logo has green in it, I can’t do that. But it also has red in it! Holy crap. My fault again, guys. I’ll find a nice grey corner and sit in the fetal position until Game 6 is over. But then I might have to crawl in there for the rest of the playoffs if they win…

But that’s just crazy, right?