90 on 95

Sports, rumors, and humor from the Ben Franklin to the George Washington

Tag Archives: Hockey

Russia over USA………Really Ilya?

Wrong flag Kovy

Going into the 2011-12 NHL season things weren’t looking great for the New Jersey Devils. Like many people who follow the Devils I was concerned they’d do their standard solid regular season then duck out in the playoffs like they’d done for the past six seasons. There were many, many questions:

  • Is this Marty’s last ride?
  • Is Zach going to re-sign once the season ends or ditch the Devils for milllllllions of dollars?
  • Will Travis Zajac ever play?
  • Can I name a single defensemen they have?
  • Is this new coach Pete DeBoer an NHL head coach or is it just a front for him being a serial killer? (Still think he is a serial killer, guy is really creepy…and never blinks)
  • But the main question was always, Is this goddamn Russian guy the Devils are paying $101 million going to lead us to a Cup?

All those questions going into the year really made me think the Devils were going to sink really, really quickly.

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NHL 2011-12 Season Preview (EASTERN CONFERENCE)

Before we get down to the nitty gritty, I probably owe you guys some sort of apology. I sort of went AWOL after entry four in my “So You’ve Decided to Buy a New Jersey” and found myself lacking the creative drive to keep blogging. It didn’t help that baseball is probably more boring than deciding which kind of milk to buy, and Papa Bear has a strict “No Soccer Posts” rule. So for a month I found myself wandering around the internet aimlessly, lost in it’s sea of cat videos and nipple slips. But like a Phoenix, all I needed was a little fire to kick start this engine. Papa Bear figured out how to use his twitter (effectively), Captain Dan started texting me all of Jaromir Jagr’s recent moves that I fear he may actually be stalking the Czech Native, and TimmyP and myself started battling in NHL12 (one word review: fuckingawesome) that I found myself wanting to get back on that horse and start blogging. Oh and Papa Bear sent me a text that if I don’t write anything soon he’s going to kick me off the payroll (McDonalds coupons.) And hockey’s back guys. HOCKEY!

Team previews, playoff predictions, and players to watch, after the jump.

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Return of the Mullet

It's like if an 80's haircut got raped, and decided to keep the kid.

At 39 years old, Jaromir Jagr is contemplating a comeback. The right winger out of Czechoslovakia hasn’t played in the NHL since his New York Rangers bowed out to the Pittsburgh Penguins in the second round of the 2008 Stanley Cup playoffs. Dude’s been killing it over in the KHL (Russian super-league) and got a big head about himself after the most recent World Championships tournament in May. Trim my mullet, Pittsburgh Tribune-Review:

Jaromir Jagr has approached the Penguins about resuming his hockey career with his original NHL franchise, multiple sources confirmed to the Tribune-Review on Monday.

Jagr’s new agent, former player Petr Svoboda, contacted Penguins general manager Ray Shero over the weekend to express his client’s intent to play again in the NHL after a three-year stint in the Kontinental Hockey League.

(via Pittsburgh Tribune-Review)

At a year shy of 40, Jagr certainly won’t be the oldest player in the league. Nicklas Lidstrom will return for his 20th season next year, when he will turn 42 during the season. Mark Recchi was absolutely a factor for the Boston Bruins Stanley Cup run at the ripe age of 43. Why Pittsburgh would be interested in him (or any team that doesn’t need to sell tickets) is beyond me. I mean, I know we’ve been saying Crosby needs a winger, but maybe not the same one who played with Mario Lemieux two decades ago. Luckily, for Pittsburgh, Jaromir has made himself a list.

Potential teams, after the jump.

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B is for Bandwagon

The Fair-Weather Fans of Foul-Weathered Boston

The only Bruins jersey I'd ever seen before last week. Let em' have it Bob.

First off: I’d like to state for the record that both the NHL and NBA play-offs are entirely too long, rendering the regular season into a preposterously bloated waste of time. That said, I’d also like to get this off my chest: Fuck the Bruins.

For some ungodly reason—and to the dismay of all well-intentioned sports fans elsewhere—Boston sports have had an unprecedented string of good luck in the sporting domain over the past decade. While this recent success has served to inflate the average New Englander’s perverted sense of self-worth far beyond levels traditionally accepted by the decent, God-fearing majority, to the well-trained eye it fails to cover up the grimy truth:  Boston fans are about as loyal as a crack-whore at a roller derby.

Trust me.

Since when did the Bruins have an established fan base? Other than a few errant and poorly timed text messages last spring (before the Flyers proceeded to pull out one of the greatest comebacks in NHL play-off history), this spring season was the first I’ve really ever heard of the strange group of hockey playing ruffians known as the B’s.  Nobody so much as breathed their name during my four years of college.  Sure you got your standard alcoholics and unemployed street mongrels that constitute the majority of the NHL target demographic, but outside of that strange and sordid inner circle the Bruins were a non-entity. They were like a poor bastard wounded in battle and left to behind to die at the hands of a savage enemy. Unspoken of. But now that they’ve got the cup there are vendors on the streets selling puke colored jerseys so that woodworked multitudes can look good and stylish for Saturday’s victory parade. Suddenly it seems that everyone’s a fan.

And this should come as no surprise really, though it still justifies a generous degree of bitter derision. It must be pointed out that despite the delusional grandeur attribute to their beloved Celtics, the first Celtics jersey I ever saw during my time in Boston said ‘Garnett’ on the back. This is a city that either rooted tepidly for the Giants or didn’t much care about football until about a decade ago when that expansion team of theirs started winning games. And don’t let them fool you about the Red Sox either.  Though they may bemoan the hard-luck times of their junior league joke-squad, the fans are a bunch of day-gamers who usually bounce by the seventh inning.  Fenway’s more of a business-meeting destination than a ballpark—a boardroom for geriatrics and Jesus freaks. There’s no tailgating, no nitrous, and no Cadillac time.

So if the Boston beat’s got you down this week and you’re thinking about mindless destruction—I’m talking to you Vancouver—just remember sporting success is cyclical. As soon as their teams trend south those Boston fans will drift off once again into obscure oblivion. Until then we can only hope it rains on the gay parade tomorrow just like it did on the gay parade last Saturday.

Oh yeah, and that was a clean hit on Horton…he’s just a bitch.

Once a Scumbag, Always a Scumbag

Well I didn’t expect to be having such a great morning when I first woke up.  First off I had to work, and secondly the beers I had last night were apparently disagreeing with my brain.  But I made it here, fired up the Kuerig, turned on the Pandora and all seemed to be coming together.  Then I saw it.  Something that made me smile ear to ear.  The scumbag that is Matthew Barnaby got arrested last night for an apparent domestic dispute, criminal trespassing, criminal mischief, harassment, criminal contempt, and aggravated harassment.  Now you may be asking yourself, “But Dan why would you be so happy at the misfortune of others?”

definition of "shit eating grin"

Let me elaborate.

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Not Such a Good Friday

I don’t know why Bob didn’t come in either buddy

All day long I was waiting for this game. Daft Puck and I were talking about it all morning over a couple games of NHL 11. He was convinced the Fly Guys were going to pull up lame facing Ryan Miller. I of course offered the opposing opinion in that we were going to put up a touchdown on Miller. So after a very uneventful round of Disc Golf, me and a few buddies decided to head to Triumph Brewery and Pub in New Hope PA to watch the game. No seats at the Bar so we took a table away from the TV’s. While we ate our food, I was thoroughly distracted by the conversation between friends on how we are going to get to Phish’s 4th of July Festival in Watkins Glen and had admittedly forgot that the game was on (poor fandom in every sense). After realizing my mistake I went to the Bar to check the score. 3-0! What the hell happened?!?! Then after watching the low lights in the intermission report it was made clear to me. God was clearly mad at Brian Boucher for eating that cheeseburger at lunch (Its Good Friday Brian! JESUS DIED FOR YOU!) And thus punished him by allowing two of the weakest goals I have ever seen. A third goal in the first and that was the end of Bouche. Well at least we have Bobrovsky coming in to clean up this mess right? Oh shit that’s right we have Michael “sloth man” Leighton as the backup (“bartender I’ll take 4 beers please”). To make matters worse I was sitting next to the only two Sabres fans outside of Buffalo’s city limits. While I wouldn’t exactly say they were running their mouths, they were making it known about how excited they were. After self medicating with a few delicious brews at intermission, I made the decision that since a badass funk band was playing, I would stay and finish watching the game. This was the playoffs so nothing is impossible (or is it “anything is possible!”…….ill have to ask KG). Then it started to happen. Comeback.

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Canadian Takeover: Part II

While most people were sitting on their couch at home, maybe at a bar watching the insane finish of the Masters or a little afternoon baseball, I was being Canadian by attending the regular season ending, meaningless Devils-Bruins game.  Much like Joe wrote in, One Night in New Jersey some crazy funky Canadianish stuff happened at this game.  And it was cool as hell.

Nordiques Nation

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Dancin’ in the streets

Thank you Tampa Bay Lightning.  I really hope the Rangers don’t get matched up against them at some point this postseason because I’d be hard pressed to root against them.  With nothing to do but rest their stars, the Lightning lit up Cam Ward and the ‘Canes for 6 goals en route to a victory in the biggest game of the year for the Rags.  The Lightning’s performance overshadows that of the Rangers, but they were equally huge.  Down 2-1 the Rags scored 4 unanswered, including Ryan McDonaugh’s first career NHL goal (golf clap).  You think this wasn’t huge? Check out Brandon Prust.

Call it out around the world

photo found via newsday.com

The good news gets even better.  Drury not only played, he scored.  And even more importantly, on face-offs he romper stomped anyone who lined up against him.  Can he help bring the cup back to NYC? I sure fuckin hope so, but we got a loooong way to go.

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Rags-standing on the verge of gettin it on

First things first, if you don’t want to hear the biased opinion of a spoiled New York Yankees, Rangers, Giants, and Knicks fan, you’re in the wrong place.  Now, what better way to pop my 90 on 95 cherry than talking about the Rags and their playoff chances.  Monday night’s comeback win over Boston was possibly the best game of the season for the Rangers.  Of course that was the same night as our precious NCAA championship game so I stopped watching after the third Bruins goal,  naturally.  While I was sitting in the bar watching the single worst game of basketball I’d ever seen (men, high school or even women) I found out that the Rangers had defied all odds and won.  Last I saw, Boston had a fuckin 3 goal kush in the second period.  I mean any Rags fan knows we are not a comeback team of late, shit we can hardly score 2 in a game.  But, out of nowhere Wojtek Wolski decided to show up.  After averaging around ten minutes a game and being a healthy scratch in that embarrassing loss to the Isles, Wojtek brought his team back from the grave.  I figured we’d lost and were on our way to having a repeat of last year’s fail against that team the Flyers from some city in Pennsylvania.  I think it’s called Camden-New Jersey, Pennsylvania (side bar: Rangers buried the Flyers last time I was at the Garden… a laugher that finished 7-0 I think).


Rangers salute after pummeling Philly

photo found here, thanks Bob Fina

But this time we’ve got the Polish wunderkind Wolski, who was right in the middle of things, primary assisting on goals 1 and 2.  By the time Doobie tied it late in the 3rd it was just a matter of time before the Rags produced the winner, even from the unlikely stick of Michael Sauer.  Good thing the entire state of Connecticut has this unwarranted allegiance to UCONN basketball so I could catch that awful game instead of the second half of the Rags’ epic comeback.  I seriously think the game was fixed.  I mean the over/under was 129 and they could have played triple OT and not scored 130 points.  Yet, there I was listening to some drunk old guy talking about how “the rims are tighter than a frog’s asshole” and shit like that.  My remedy was to keep pounding pilsners, which isn’t really anything new.  Even if I had been at Madison Square Garden, and not stuck watching fuckin basketball, the beer would’ve been flowing steadily.  So I guess that’s not exactly a remedy, but rather a fact.

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Rangers Lose Tough One to Thrashers


How easily things can change for the Rangers.  Tortorella said it would be a few games before he’d stop calling Callahan’s number since he played in every situation.  Well, he certainly wished they had Cally tonight.  After a decent 1st period the Rags gave up 2 goals in 15 seconds in the 2nd, which proved to be too big a hole to crawl out of.  I mean these fuckin guys pretended the game meant nothing, so now they’re stuck needing a loss by Carolina tomorrow against shot-lanta, or Sunday against Tampa.  Yeah, the rangers played like a bunch of ducks tonight–the sitting kind not the mighty kind.  ZERO goals in the biggest game thus far, and it was at fucking home.  They spent the whole goddamn game chasing the puck.  Pavelec did make a few big saves but for the most part the Rags looked like shit.  It must have been HBC’s ‘Night of a Million Shits’ or something because that was pathetic.  I would recap the game more but I decided to replace every word with the word shit.

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