Snowman On Fire

I pulled out all of the stops last night: Dragged along Dr. Ed, who hasn’t been to a Devils game in almost four years. Wore the same, stinky, crinkled-crest red jersey as Thursday night, since it seemed to bring the similarly dressed boys good luck. And I even managed to make it into the post-game wrap up — directly behind Colin White’s magnifient scowl, and behind St. Louis’ yellow stick, is yours truly, wearing the home reds, sleeves pushed up, with the impeccably dressed Dr. Ed to the right.

What did I miss? Was it failing to knock over another mega-sized soda, flooding the first few rows with sugar and carbonation? Was it making the mistake of touching the goal judge’s hand before the first period, making him trigger happy in our own end? Was it not eating greasy chicken fingers and fries, for as much as I deplore them publicly, they are the gout de vie for those who Devil-worship. Perhaps it was my thought-of but incomplete sign, which involved a rhyming puns on French nicknames, Vern Troyer, and Martin St. Louis?

Now it’s a best of five, with at least one must-win game on the Gulf Coast. I’ll be following as intently as possible while feigning gastro-intestinal distress (how else to duck out of staff meetings at 7-minute intervals for score updates?) on Monday, watching the game at home on Wednesday, and assured of fixing the most egregious of my superstitious mistakes of Saturday night: I’ll have the Bubba with me. Last night was the first Devils’ home game I attended without him, and I missed my comrade in bare arms.

Friday the 13th is lucky for hockey heads in New Jersey. It’s Patrik Elias’ birthday (and at age 31, that’s 13 backwards), and it’s Bubba’s 13th birthday. That’s Bubba, holding up a sign we made for last night’s Devils game. Rough translation: “All the best for your birthday tomorrow”. Seems to have worked twice, with Elias notching a goal and an assist (and probably tipping in Rafalski’s shot, even though Dr. Murray didn’t see the change in flight path). The funniest part of the sign making and waving was the reaction of the guy standing behind Bubba in the picture. He asked us if we spoke Czech, thinking he’d found a lonsman in the Meadowlands. No such luck, but he agreed that our birthday wishes were a sign of good things to come.

Hockey players continue to come up big against autism. April is Autism Awareness Month, in addition to being the start of the NHL playoffs. After last night’s 3-assist playmaker performance, for which he got zero props from the local media (making him the zero-th star of the game?), Scott Gomez showed up in the post game show with an autism awareness hat:

Closer to home, Assist From Bubba is nearing the closing date for this year’s effort, having raised over $2,700 this year. And Bubba himself is going to be on Nick News on April 29th, 8:30 pm (in all US time zones), in a piece on special needs hockey programs.

Gomer’s punch line comes across much funnier than he probably meant it to be, and his heart is (as always) in the right place. He’s definitely the star of the game for promoting diversity and autism awareness, the best assist of the night.

I read The Hockey News because it’s comprehensive coverage of the whole ice, from colleges to the women’s game to detailed stats on the NHL. Lately, though, the writing seems both repetitive and needlessly needling. Case in point: a set of articles in the April 3 issue that discuss fighting and the role of the goon.

George Parros gets a bad rap through all of this. Ken Campbell warns “..one of you…George Parros, Cam Janssen, and Wade Belak…is going to die in a hockey fight someday.” Brilliant. And Mike Brophy points out that if you add Colton Orr to that group, they have only 3 goals among them. Fascinating how they pick up the exact same group of “goons” for this analysis.

Aside from the lack of creativity in THN’s writing, their premise is flawed. Both articles want us to believe that there’s no room in hockey for players who can only fight. I won’t argue that, but why point at the players, with such vengeance as to warn that they might kill each other? Parros in particular was a stand out at Princeton, and can definitely score goals if he’s given the chance. With a shot percentage of over 8%, his conversion rate is better than that of the NJ Devils. The problem is that as a fourth liner, he doesn’t play much. When he is on the ice, he’s asked to be the tough guy. I’d prefer to see the Mike Rupp or Erik Rasmussen version of the fourth liner — guys who can skate and score, as well as mix it up when needed. Brophy would like us to believe that the problem is with players like Parros. Hardly. The problem is with coaches who don’t play a full four lines and develop young players. Typecast anyone, and you’ll get repetitive behavior.

We stopped by the last regular season practice at South Mountain Arena, before Lou closes up the practice sessions to the public and preps the Devils with secrecy typically shrouding the NSA’s budget.

We caught this video of Zach Parise signing an autograph on my son’s (new) favorite hockey hat, doing a great job with a barehand on the silver Sharpie, balancing pen and hat against his other gloved hand. It’s not the prettiest nine seconds of fame, but it gives you a good idea of just how accessible the players are once they’ve poured out sweat (and sometimes blood) in a practice. That pinging sound you hear is Sergei Brylin working on his shot.

I don’t want to seem melancholy on the first day of the playoffs, but that was possibly the last Devils practice that I’ll be able to catch when I have fifteen free minutes. Starting in August, they’ll be using their new practice facility in Newark, decidedly more than a five minute drive away. There was always something fun about sharing the ice with the “big” Devils, even if we did occasionally have practices and games moved to accommodate a last minute skating session.

We’ll have to go on the road for our snippets of fame.

Scott Gomez is a good guy.

This is basically public knowledge, as he’s been the community face for NHL’s hockey diversity efforts for years. He’s never quiet about inviting his family in the LA area to games when the Devils travel to SoCal, and he uses his own father as an agent.

I have more first-hand knowledge of Gomer-goodness, having played one round of golf with him during an NHL charity event in 2003. He doesn’t have the most beautiful form in the game, but he muscles the ball like a champion. He laughs at his shots and yours. He didn’t mind that he probably should have worn a helmet with me in his foursome.

Friday afternoon, my son and some of his friends were wolfing down cheeseburgers at a local diner-like restaurant — nothing high-end, nothing fancy, just large plates of good food. One of the younger brothers pointed to a table in the corner, where Scott Gomez was seated. Gomer came by, talked to the boys, signed autographs, and was a big kid for a few minutes. Note to Lou: this is how you build a fan base for the future. All four of those boys will remember the Gomez signing long after whatever Gomez signing happens this summer.

Even if it is one of the best songs in Avenue Q, I really shouldn’t take joy in shadenfreude when it involves both the Islanders and Leafs. For 56 minutes, the Islanders fans were dancing and Leafs fans wore long faces, only to have fortunes reverse and emotions invert as Madden popped in a goal with less than a full tick left in the Leafs’ season. Sadly, for those of us enjoying the mishegas in the Meadowlands, the Devils couldn’t pull it out and the Islanders backed into the 8-ball spot.

As my ticket-share host Ernie points out, with three New York area teams in the hockey playoffs, the local sports press should devote some ink toward Lord Stanley’s Cup. But I harbor such low expectations of the popular press. A mere few months ago, the hockey press speculated that the Northeast Division would place four teams in the playoffs while their mid-Atlantic cross-conference foes would be thankful to get an automatic seed for the division winner. As usual “common wisdom” is neither: Devils, Penguins, Rangers, Islanders in the playoffs, Leafs and Habs playing off the tees in Florida.

Best moment of the afternoon: as the Devils showed highlight reels from previous seasons, and gave away autographed items from previous Devils, any player who had the audacity to don a Rangers sweater professionally (Shanahan and Holik specifically) was uniformly booed for it. By everyone - Devils and Islanders fans alike.

Next up: dealing with Tampa Bay. The Devils lost 3 out of 4 to the Lightning in the regular season, which means little in the second season but we have to have something about which to worry. Although we did break Passover a bit early, and skipped this year’s “Matzah in the Meadowlands” mess, avoiding a lightning strike from a higher authority. I’m hopeful this is a portent of good luck to come.

A night of Dragons.

In the northern part of our fair Garden State, the Hockey North America Ice Dragons played our final game of the season, tied for first in the division but lacking the tie-breaker with a game in hand. We needed a win or a tie to clinch our first-ever division title and a #1 seed going into the annual playoffs. This isn’t just about pride, or a feeling of accomplishment to put you on hockey cruise control through the summer; it’s about a trip to Toronto for the HNA Tournament.

With such dramatic backdrop, eight guys came to play last night, along with a goalie we borrowed from another team (thanks, Laurie!). It was a night of double shifts, of double shifts that may have turned into triple shifts because staying in one place at the blue line was easier than skating back to the bench for a change. My contributions for the night consisted of setting a screen for our second goal, and chasing after one of our opponent’s truly large defenseman, who has a slapshot that could crack concrete. I needed neither oxygen nor a stretcher, both big wins.

But not as big as coming up on the long side of a 3-2 score. Fortunately we had a 3-0 lead early in the first to work from, and then we basically held on for the next 30 minutes of hockey. The imperative to hang on, sloopy may not have worked for the Buckeyes (twice) this year, but it landed the Dragons the top spot in the slot.

Further south, in the city where the only thing taller than William Penn’s hat is the pile of complaints about the Flyers, the Devils clinched another Atlantic Division title, one game earlier and without any help (compared to last year’s dependence on Rangers misery). A big game for Brodeur, who set the single-season record for wins, breaking the mark held by Bernie Parent (who was in the building to see it happen!). And a big game for NJ native Jim Dowd, who scored the game-winner, short-handed, about halfway through the third.

Nhl.com had just run an article on short-handed goals, focusing on John Madden, but this year it’s been Dowd with the fast feet on the penalty kill. What’s the connection? Jim Dowd played his high school hockey in Brick, NJ, home of the Green Dragons.

Enter the dragons, professional and amateur, into the playoffs.