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Travel woes
by Terry Mercury
I'm sitting here still trying to figure out why the U.S. Department of Transportation would decide to make it tougher for Canadian-based NHL teams to charter around the States. The newest decision would see charters from Canada allowed to make one stop in a U.S. city....and then have to go back to Canada before they can go to another American destination! I don't get it....how does that help the U.S. security-wise? Remember....it's a CHARTER flight. Everyone on it is there for a known purpose....and everyone has to pass security before leaving Canada....meaning they have to have a passport....and are identified by team officials as part of the team's personnel as well. And by the way...charter also means no one else is picked up along the way. The passengers leaving the airport in Toronto will be the same ones going from Buffalo...to Dallas....to Phoenix....etc...etc..
I just't don't get it. As North America struggles to come out of tough economic times....it would seem to be in the best interests of both countries to promote travel and commerce between them....not make it tougher. Constant travel is already tough on players....but can you imagine if you're on the Vancouver Canucks...and after you've played a game in San Jose....instead of continuing on to Los Angeles you have to go back to Vancouver....AND THEN fly to Los Angeles....going over San Jose where you really should have left from in the first place? Insanity!!! The same would go from the east...like Montreal...when they do their western swing. Imagine....first to Dallas...then back to Canada...and having to turn around to go on to say....Anaheim. Imagine the arrangements that have to be made...and the fact that the flights have to be temporary "returns"....before turning around and heading to the next American destination. If you're the Toronto Maple Leafs...do you come back to Toronto...or do you try to arrange to have a stop at an airport out west....that's closer to your destinations? And is that an alternative? There's no guarantee that it is.
Look....this a crazy situation...and someone with some common sense...I don't care which side of the border they're on...should stand up make this clear. We're the U.S. and Canada for pete's sake! We've known each other forever....and the idea of instituting something that makes travel between us more difficult is ridiculous! This is just putting a foolish obstacle in front of a business that's worked on both sides of the border since 1917.
Get rid of it!!
Terry Mercury
What exactly is a SuperStar?
by Admin
Instead of coming up with a semi-accurate, half-hearted definition of what constitutes a superstar, let’s consult a dictionary. Since it’s 2009, let’s thumb through an on-line edition.
Superstar, according to Merriam-Webster Online:
* Function: noun
* Date: 1924
1 : a star (as in sports or the movies) who is considered extremely talented, has great public appeal, and can usually command a high salary
2 : one that is very prominent or is a prime attraction
When the Dany Heatley trade to San Jose was finally completed over the weekend, a number of sports news services identified Heatley as being a superstar.
A superstar? Really? Sure, only two other NHL players have scored more goals since the lockout than Heatley, but does he meet all the qualifications required in order to wear the superstar crown?
From my vantage point, a superstar in any milieu transcends their surroundings. In other words, even your dear Aunt Gertie that doesn’t like sports knows who, say, Alexander Ovechkin is, and probably has an opinion about him. Don’t get her going on the hot stick celebration.
Following that line of thinking, I propose that there are currently only two NHL players that are bigger than the sport.
Alexander Ovechkin and Sidney Crosby. The ying and the yang. The Beatles and the Stones. Mario Lemieux and Wayne Gretzky.
Evgeni Malkin should be considered, if only because his on-ice talents are so immense, and only getting stronger, but I haven’t seen any tangible evidence that supports his inclusion into the select club of superstars. If on-ice talent were the only yardstick being applied, then Pavel Datsyuk or Ilya Kovalchuk, and maybe Dany Heatley, would have to be included.
Where these gentlemen fall short for serious consideration of being called a superstar is this section of the definition:
has great public appeal
Keep-in-mind every individual franchise has a player or two that is held very close to the bosom of the local fanbase, and as such, their respective values are usually inflated. For instance, Rick Nash of the Columbus Blue Jackets can be one of the most exciting players in the league today. His YouTube-ready goals, where he dekes through half the team, and some of the guys up in the press box, are a beauty to behold, and understandably, the faithful in Ohio would clamour that Nash is a superstar.
The argument is all context. Within the world of the Blue Jackets, Nash is the face of the franchise, thus he is a superstar. Within the expanded world of the National Hockey League, Nash is one of the young stars that make the game so exciting to watch. You could make a credible argument that Nash is an NHL superstar.
You would have to work awfully hard to convince me that Nash, or Heatley or Datsyuk or Roberto Luongo, are true superstars. They do not transcend the game of hockey. Within the hockey world, they are larger-than-life. Outside of those cozy borders, they would be lost, unrecognizable to the average person walking down the street of any American city. For that matter, the majority of non-hockey fans in Canada wouldn’t recognize them either.
Put Ovechkin or Crosby in downtown Manhattan (without the Zamboni in Ovechkin’s case), or on Manhattan Beach in Southern California, or in surburban St. Louis or at the Steak ‘n Shake in Battle Creek, Michigan, and most likely both of these dudes would be recognized.
For a variety of reasons, Ovechkin and Crosby are currently bigger than the game of hockey.
That doesn’t mean they’re better or smarter. That doesn’t mean we should all bow down and praise them (though maybe we should for all the attention they bring to the game). That doesn’t mean that their opinons are sacrosanct. So before the mouthbreathing bloggers of the cyberworld get their shorts all in a knot, keep this sobering thought in mind. Most likely your favourite player is a nobody outside of the world of hockey. That’s not the case with Ovechkin and Crosby.
Why these two? Well, we’ve already listed awesome on-ice talent as one major factor, but they have to have more than that. Both young men have been marketed very successfully, in particular Crosby, who became the face of the NHL as it emerged from the 2004-05 lockout.
Ovechkin basically elbowed his way onto the marquee, and his fun-loving flair that he paints everything he touches with cannot be denied.
The camera likes both of these guys, for different reasons. The media likes both of these guys, for different reasons. Hockey fans are drawn to these two guys, for different reasons. Love them or hate them, you’re talking about them.
Thus it comes as no real surprise that the sports media sought out Crosby and Ovechkin to get their opinions on the recent firing of NHLPA head Paul Kelly. Some hockey fans ridiculed the need to ask these two particular players their personal opinions. Where did they get off thinking they were bigger and better than the game?
Well, they don’t think that. Neither player put out a press release saying “come and talk to me about Paul Kelly”. It was only natural for the media to beat a path to their doors, because when these two young men speak, people listen.
Much like when a young Wayne Gretzky, after another blowout win over the woeful New Jersey Devils, called the Devils a Mickey Mouse organization. No truth to the rumour that’s what got Michael Eisner interested in hockey.
Much like when a younger Mario Lemieux, tired of carrying a couple of clutching-and-grabbing defencemen on his back almost every time he broke into the offensive zone, openly questioned the NHL about their lack of enforcement of their own rule book.
The hockey, and sports world, listened. And yes, some people complained then that Gretzky and Lemieux should just shut up and play the game. What makes these whippersnappers think they’re bigger than the game?
(There are reactionaries everywhere).
Both players were right. Bang on. And both were right to speak out.
So when Ovechkin tells espn.com that even if the NHL decides not to participate in the 2014 Winter Olympics, he still plans to go…well folks, that’s news. Washington Capitals’ owner Ted Leonsis, one of the more progressive owners in the league, did his best to downplay the comments, but the desired effect was already achieved. It got people, and no doubt the players, thinking about the issue.
Once again, Ovechkin elbowed his way in.
With all due respect, Dany Heatley does not have that same ability. Nor has he asked for it; if anything, he seems rather happy not to be in the spotlight. Ovechkin craves it, while Crosby understands he’s been thrust into it since an early age. Both men handle the spotlight differently, and they handle it well.
Alexander Ovechkin and Sidney Crosby are the only two true superstars in the league today. Now what remains to be seen is if they can transcend North American popular culture. Arguably, only two NHL players have ever reached those lofty heights.
Bobby Orr and Wayne Gretzky.
Particularly Wayne Gretzky. The Great One is still the face of hockey for most of the world.
We tend to throw around words carelessly. The word great has been mostly stripped of its power. Anyone that is in the public eye is a star. In the sports media, we have also devalued the word superstar. I am trying to reclaim it for those few worthy enough to wear the crown.
Ovechkin and Crosby.
If you don’t like it, deal with it. You might want to start by shunning all popular media in North America. No doubt you’ll be seeing the faces of these two men plastered all over television, and magazines, and posters, and websites for the better part of the next decade.
- Mick Kern
Please identify yourself
by Admin
Please identify yourself.
It appears that is what some cameraperson in Phoenix yelled out when Canadian billionaire/wannabe NHL owner Jim Balsillie emerged from the courthouse yesterday.
If that doesn’t speak volumes about the relative lack of interest in NHL hockey in the Phoenix area, then you are either as dumb as a Flyers’ fan, or you’ve long ago taken more than one taste of the NHL Kool-Aid, or Flavor Aid, to be historically accurate.
By now, jeez, by sometime in mid-2007, practically anyone who was a hockey fan on either side of the U.S.-Canadian border could pick out Jim Balsillie looking at a satellite photo of Kitchener-Waterloo quicker than finding Waldo in a one-man phone booth.
That also applies to every member of the Canadian sports media, and many of the “regular” media corps. No doubt it also applies to every member of the American sports media who deal with hockey. There is no need to ask the players in this ongoing drama to identify themselves; their mugs are imprinted on our memory banks.
Regardless of what “side” of this ongoing feud you lean towards, by now we’re all pretty sick and tired of constantly seeing Jim’s bald head as part of pretty much every sportscast. He gets about as much airtime as Brett Favre does.
So, if Diamond Jim had been in a joking mood, what would he have replied to that query?
Hi, I’m Jim Balsillie, the soon-to-be-owner of the Hamilton Coyotes?
Hi, I’m Jim Balsillie, aka Captain Canada?
Hi, I’m Jim Balsillie, the biggest scoundrel the NHL has ever seen?
Hi, I’m Jim Balsillie, aka The Boogeyman. I’ve come to take your team away. What do you mean, what team?
Hey, I’m Jumbo Jimbo, the Man Who Can Buy Anything. (stay thirsty my friends)
Good Folks of the NHL Home Ice Forest, however this ugly, tired affair turns out, do you really think they’ll be playing NHL hockey in the greater Phoenix area in the next, say, three years?
This has never been about the fans in Phoenix. Sorry guys and gals, but you are collateral damage. This has always been about who is in control.
And, as usual, money. Potentially lots of it.
No need for anyone outside the courthouse to identify themselves. We know who you all are. Guilty, every last one of you.
- Mick Kern
Rooting Through the Commons Bin
by Admin
Tuesday night, after attending to some family business, the wife, five-year-old son and I made the trek down to the waterfront here in Toronto to attend the 2009 edition of the Canadian National Exhibition, better known as the CNE, or the Ex, or the grand rip-off, or the sad summer fair that used to mean so much to a city but has been surpassed by year-round theme parks, the internet and twitter.
Regardless, we usually attend the CNE every year. My wife is a lifelong Toronto girl, and remembers when the place used to matter. Then again, stop any 16-year-old and they’ll probably tell you what a bitchin’ place it is. Do they still say bitchin?
Once we navigated our way through the two dollar games, and the fast food stands, and the haunted houses that aren’t scary in-the-least, and the kids’ rides that look like they’ve been in service since 1957, we found our way to the Queen Elizabeth Building, which really does look like it was built in 1957.
The place was jam packed with a dog’s breakfast of booths offering a cornucopia of stuff you really don’t want, unless you’re hungry, tired, and confused at the CNE. Booths full of scarves, wooden boards with your family name on it, clothes for your dog, overpriced fudge, boring BBC movies, wooden shoes, cheesy t-shirts with YOUR FACE HERE, and hockey cards.
Ahh, an oasis in a sea of suffering, and like a seasoned traveller, I knew where to find this watering hole, because every year they put the same tired old booths in the same tired old places. Why not change things up a bit? Then again, consider the type of people who pay good money for the pleasure of dragging their tired feet around the CNE grounds. Most of these folk probably do not want to have to think, particularly after carrying around an oversized stuffed banana or SpongeBob doll they won at the baseball toss booth, after shelling out over 27 dollars for it.
My wife wandered off to look at the jewelry, while my son and I made a beeline for this great looking plaque of Gerry Cheevers making a kick save. The dude at the booth only wanted about 50 bucks for it, and no, it wasn’t signed, but man it looked fine.
Couldn’t justify the cost, not after snaring a signed Bernie Parent photo at an auction at the Air Canada Centre last season that now hangs proudly in my home office. So, we turned our attention to the forgotten stepchild of the collectable industry…hockey cards.
Or in this case, a wonderful, jumbled assortment of hockey and baseball cards from the past thirty-five years. Most were from the Glut Years; 1990 through to about 2000. The years that almost killed my interest in the hobby, when everyone and their Mom thought that they’d get rich by purchasing a room full of Eric Lindros rookie cards and then stashing them away.
Didn’t work that way. The vast majority of people who got into the sports card industy at that point were buying high..and later selling low. Or just plain dumping them.
For once in my life, I was on the right end of a trend, having started collecting in 1973. By the mid-90’s, I bought the odd hockey and baseball card set, and particular singles of players I followed, but that was the extent of my interest. Now that my kid is at the age where he’s noticed sports cards, it’s reinvigorated my interest, and appreciation, for those colourful pieces of cardboard.
Yes, I’ve kept all of my cards from my childhood, and most of them are in fine shape. I could probably get a good amount of cash for them, IF I chose to sell, and IF someone wanted to purchase them (always the big if in the equation), but I have no intention of doing that. Those cards are a wonderful time tunnel back to simpler days, when all I cared about was what teams would do on the ice, not in late-night bars, or in the back of taxi cabs, or in courtrooms in Phoenix.
Plus, my kid has no idea that these things have any worth. What does he know about economics, he thinks I’m a human money machine. He’s interested in sports cards because they look cool, as he says.
We waded through the box of commons, looking for the Magnificent Seven, because the CNE special offered seven cards for five bucks. That sounded like fun, though in truth, seven cards in this commons box added up would be lucky to break the two dollar mark in overall value.
Right away my son found a Pavel Bure card, in the beautiful away blue Rangers uniform, that he didn’t already have. That was card number one, for after all, he thinks Bure still plays and the Russian Rocket is his favourite player. The truth can wait for later.
Then he got all excited about a Tom Draper card. Tom Draper? Sorry, it’s not about the money, but dammit if I was going to spend more than five cents on a Draper card, especially when I have about a half-dozen at home. We moved on.
Next, he stumbled upon a legends card with Milt Schmidt on it. Seeing the Bruins logo, my kid’s face broke into a wide grin and he recited the words I whispered to him when he was still in his crib. “Number Four, Bobby Orr”.
I dropped the Murray Bannerman card I was looking at (and already had), and took a look. Could it be?
Naw. It was Uncle Milty. A nice find, but since it was a modern card, it wasn’t special enough to make our Magnificent Seven.
Next to that card was a Reg Leach from my favourite O-Pee-Chee/Topps set of all-time, the very colourful 71-72 set. What a find! No way the guy in the booth would cast aside a card from that set into his commons box.
And he didn’t. It was a fine looking reprint that was part of the 2002 Topps Archive set. Nonetheless, I don’t have all of the original 71-72 set, and seeing that the price for those babies has risen considerably, I never will. This copy will suffice. Also found a Peter McNab reprint (75-76) and a Mike Milbury reprint (78-79) that I already had as originals, but they looked so good just sitting there atop a motley collection of worthless computer-perfect modern cards, that I had to have them.
We now had four of our Magnificent Seven.
By now, my son had lost interest, and having located his Mom walking by, implored her to buy him ice cream. Undaunted, I soldiered on.
Entry number five took me away from hockey; it was a simple, yet tasty Bill Gullickson card (1985) in his beautiful white Montreal Expos uniform. Anything Expos I’d buy, heck, I’d buy the team if they’d let me. Thought I already had this card, but just in case, I had to take this puppy home.
Card number six was also baseball. Tom McCraw of the Cleveland Indians (1976), the Topps set the year before I started collecting baseball cards. And this was no reprint. This was the real deal. Which doesn’t really mean anything, for who remembers Tom McCraw except the McCraw family, and die-hard White Sox fans?
Card number seven is where I genuinely got excited. When I found it, I looked around in order to find someone to share my joy with. Alas, I was surrounded by Philistines. Where was Scott Laughlin when you needed him? He would have understood.
For there in my hands, framed by an ungodly mix of purple and pink borders, looking sharp in his yellow-and-green Athletics uniform, was Herb Washington.
This is the guy that wacky old Charlie O. Finley signed to a contract to be a pinch runner. A pinch runner. Washington was a track star at Michigan State, and Finley signed him in 1974 only to pinch run. Nothing else. Just run.
Which he did. During his brief two-year MLB career, Washington got into 105 games, stole 31 bases, and got caught stealing 17 times. He scored 33 runs, which means to me this guy wasn’t able to take full advantage of his speed out there. More to base stealing that running fast. Worse, he got picked off second during a World Series game.
Still, this card was the only time Topps ever released a pinch runner card. Had to have it. I now have it.
Which got me to thinking, will we ever see a day when an NHL team carries a designated shooter? Someone who’s awesome at the shootout, but would be a liability during the normal course of a game. You’d only carry him on the bench to be that big stick come the skills competition.
One name leapt to mind - Jason Allison. That dude was a pure goal scorer. That dude also made me look good on skates. He might be a perfect candidate for the role. Does it specify anywhere in the NHL rulebook that a player has to wear skates on ice? What about gumboots? Maybe Allison could take the deciding shot in boots, or broomball shoes.
Maybe that’s why the Maple Leafs invited Allison to training camp.
It turns out Herb Washington has, or had, a hockey connection. He was the owner of the Youngstown Steelhawks of the CHL, from 2005 to 2008. The team folded after that, and Herb nows owns a number of McDonald’s franchises in Youngstown and Greenville, Pennsylvania. Fast food for a fast guy.
Please say hi to him for me if you’re in the area. Tell him I finally found his card. Can’t wait for the Jason Allison DS card.
- Mick Kern
Couch Musings on the First Day of September
by Admin
Okay, okay, as I type this, it’s still August 31st in the Eastern Time Zone, but most of the planet has already entered the Month of School…first off, what the hell???? Why now would the NHLPA want to go all goofy and look as disorganized as, well, as the NHL? No doubt most of us were left scratching our heads over this move to dump Paul Kelly, but the truth is, a very select few know what’s been going on behind-the-scenes of the NHLPA, and none of those select few are members of the media or the average hockey fan, or any fan, for that matter. Maybe the whole truth and nothing but the truth comes out in the next few months, maybe it comes out in a great book five Christmases from now. Either way, from my brief dealings with Mr. Kelly (as part of a couple of media scrums), he sure seemed like exactly what the NHLPA needed, at least in terms of public perception….Brian Burke is correct yet again. He once compared the Toronto Maple Leafs to the Vatican, in terms of its importance in the hockey world. How bang on he was. Like the Vatican, the Leafs wield an enormous amount of power, mostly over the great unwashed, you know, the opiate of the masses and all the stuff. Now that it’s been shown, despite pious denials to the contrary, that the moneybags known as Maple Leafs Sports and Entertainment have absolutely no intention of sharing the Southern Ontario sandbox with anyone else, they’ve proven they really are the Vatican of the NHL (or any other religious powerbase, if you’re so inclined to be easily offended as a Catholic). This is only the sainted Maple Leafs’ latest salvo at the game of hockey. Forget their overly inflated prices for everything ranging from game tickets to concession food to foam fingers, because practically every pro sports team is guilty of that sin, the Leafs have shown once again they only care for themselves. Among their list of sins against the game of hockey include their refusal to allow the hallowed grounds of Maple Leaf Gardens to be sold to Eugene Melnick, who wanted to install his St. Michael’s Majors OHL team in the beloved building. What a perfect placement that would have been, but no, MLSE would have no part of that, fearing competition for second-rate concerts and, god knows what, tractor pulls. Once the AHL Toronto Roadrunners couldn’t make a go of it at the CNE Coliseum/Ricoh Centre, the Leafs swooped in and installed the St. John’s Maple Leafs…and a bunch of second-rate concerts and tractor pulls. A cynic (who, me?) could lazily point to over forty years of inept NHL hockey, but honestly, the Leafs since 1993 have iced a number of competitive teams that reached the Final Four, so that’s not an accurate shot. Regardless of how one feels about the entire sordid Phoenix Coyotes situation, it’s interesting, and a bit alarming, to think that the Maple Leafs may believe themselves to be the tail that wags the NHL dog. Alarming, but typical….the red jersey the Minnesota Wild wear at home is a beautiful thing, even if it reminds me of the Quebec Remparts, and adding to all this sweater splendour is their recently unveiled third jersey. Now that green sucker will make one fine addition to my collection this Christmas, and just in time, as my five-year-old son recently discovered where all my hockey and baseball uniforms hang….it’s great to be paid to talk and write about hockey, but after ten months of the game, I crave a break. Anything but hockey. Baseball, CFL (hey, I’m Canadian), even NFL training camps. But no puck. Well, so I thought. Sadly, this past Thursday evening, even after being up for close to 22 hours due to doing Hockey This Morning with the Shalley-Lama, I found myself logging onto the TSN website and trying to catch parts of the Red-White Team Canada scrimmage at the Saddledome in Calgary. It was kind of difficult to see clearly, and at times I swear I heard Foster Hewitt mispronouncing names. It’s probably as close as I’ll ever get to replicating the experience of listening to a Saturday night hockey game on the wireless, though as a kid in Calgary, my Dad built me a crystal radio one summer, and I fiddled with that thing long into the night, hoping to hear something besides Top 40….how much longer until it’s acceptable to start your hockey pool? Our XM NFL pool just held its draft this past Sunday (I got Kurt Warner, yet Joe Thistel ended up with both Peyton Manning and Tom Brady…how???), and our MLB pool is in full swing (as defending champion, I currently sit a disappointing fourth out of eight teams). Where is Rob Higgins when you need him?…best way to build up your wrist shot? Find an apple tree, and when those suckers fall to the ground, which they’ve been doing for the past month (trust me), instead of bagging them, shoot them into the bushes, or the garden, in my case. Oh sure, you could eat them, but it would be best to do that before they hit the ground, or are riddled with worms…who’s the player you most want to see with their new team? Personally, I’m itching to see Ray Emery in that splendid orange uniform of the Philadelphia Flyers, for so many reasons. Now, I can never actually cheer for the Evil Empire Jr., but I’m pulling for Emery….as for the Flyers, it’s been 34 years and counting since they last hoisted the Stanley Cup. Unthinkable. The Bruins, 37 years. Also unthinkable. Putting aside the so-called Original Six, how have all the other “classes” of teams faired in the Cup count? The 1967 teams have been pretty successful. The Penguins have three, the Flyers two, and the Stars one. Okay, in Dallas, but it still counts. C’mon Blues, it’s been 1970 since you got to the big dance. Speaking of 1970, that class of graduates have each gotten to the Final twice and lost. No luck here. 1972 can boast of five Cups, four for the Islanders and one for the Flames, though it was up north in Calgary. 1974 has three Cups, though they were captured, of course, in New Jersey, not Kansas City, or even Denver. The Caps made to the Final once. Odds are they’ll get there again real soon. 1979 has been rather successful. The WHA refugees have won eight Cups between them. Five for the Oilers, two for the Nordiques, ahh, Avalanche, and one for the Whalers, ahh, Hurricanes. Any surprise the Jets/Coyotes/Steelbacks haven’t won any? The Sharks represent the Class of ‘91, and they represent the Texas Rangers in the NHL. No appearances in the Classic, Spring in this case. Tampa has the lone Cup from the 1992 kids, though Ottawa got a shot at it, and they lost to the Ducks of the Class of 1993. Their expansion cousins, the Panthers, have one appearance in the Final. Anyone we missed? The Thrashers, Predators, Blue Jackets and Wild? Nope. Nothing from those four yet. Is that all the teams in the NHL??? Did I add up the Cups won correctly? Hey look it’s now 12:07 am eastern time. You try doing all this off the top-of-your-head at this hour, without using Google. At least it got me to September. Pre-season NHL games in fifteen days.
- Mick Kern
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