Monthly Archives: May 2013

Things You Can Say About The 2013 Detroit Red Wings

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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

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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.

  1. 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.”
  2. 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).
  3. 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.”
  4. 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.”
  5. 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

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“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?

Here we go, again.

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I like to write. That’s how my first blog started. Then I took too long between posts and apologized too much. The perfectionist in me didn’t like it. I decided to change it up, and I made a blog dedicated solely to the Red Wings. But then I wrote about other things there, too. I gave myself expectations and failed to meet them. I imagined my beloved following on Twitter, all waiting for my next post, shaking their collective heads in disgust after another blog-less day. What is that Cam doing? Why won’t he keep writing for my enjoyment? (I can be quite the self-centered and self-deprecating asshole inside my head). Pretty soon that blog fell to the wayside, too.

But I still like to write. As my career takes me away from daily writing, I find myself with ideas more often. Ideas that I stow away, fail to write down, and forget. Articles that provoke thought, news that deserve rants, photos that fascinate. I need a place for all of that stuff, and I hope that place is here.

I won’t promise Kittle Writes will be any different than past failed efforts. I’m not going to be strict about content and I won’t always meet my own deadlines. I’ve given up trying to be a perennial star blogger like those that I read, like Winging It In Motown or The Malik Report. But I like to blog, and I’ve put up roadblocks that will keep me writing and posting on a semi-regular basis on things like Red Wings and sports, life’s rants and lessons. I want to turn this into something that can keep going for a while, even if it’s only for me.

I like to write. Let’s try this again.