Guest Column: The NHL

On the eve of Game 2 of what should be Gary Bettman's wet dream--Sid the Kid versus the Mighty Red Wings machine--I still have yet to hear one person in passing talking about the Stanley Cup Finals. A guest post, written by my dear friend Nicholas, that originally appeared here at the beginning of the season, could help provide some insight into the sport's problems:

Do NHL players need these?

I read this week that the NHL was thinking about calling penalties on players who slide in front of a shooting puck. The league is looking for ways to increase scoring and thus, they believe, popularity. They tried this a few years ago by changing some rules and the sizes of goalie pads. They believe that the reason people don’t watch the NHL is because there just isn’t enough scoring. Maybe, they should look at the world’s most popular sport. Soccer games often end in 0 – 0 ties and the fans still are howling and cheering when it all ends. Scoring is not the problem, but here are some…

It’s not how many times a hockey team scores that makes it exciting, it’s how they do it. We want to see skating, speed and passing. These guys are on skates but it really doesn’t matter because of how much they stand around. The philosophy of hockey teams is to set up in a semi circle and pass it around until someone gets an open shot. They shoot, miss and then the other team sets up in their semi-circle. Who wants to watch that? Not many, so we turn to college and high school hockey games where the rinks are bigger or the players are smaller so they rely on skating and passing. The biggest ratings during the Winter Olympics are for the hockey games. It’s partially because it’s country against country, but more so because they use a bigger rink which results in more fast-breaks and speed.

Another problem is that the NHL has forced hockey down the throats of people who don’t care. They seem to say, “If we start a hockey team in Phoenix, they’ll come out and watch.” Sure, people are going to come out to the games, but how many homes in Phoenix, Tampa Bay, Anaheim and San Jose are tuning in? Not many. Those places have no history with hockey and never will. The youth will never rally to hockey because indoor ice is too expensive to rent and all their buddies are playing football or basketball. It also doesn’t help when you start an expansion team called the Mighty Ducks, Sharks, Thrashers or The Wild. Whoever is naming these teams is stuck in the neon days of the 90’s. The logos are gaudy and the uniforms hurt the eyes. It may seem like a small issue, but how many people want to hear these words come out of their mouth? “Want to go watch the Mighty Ducks play tonight?”

Also, try shaking things up by not having any commercials during the game. TV timeouts should not be a part of hockey. Soccer doesn’t have them and thrives. Advertise, within the game and between periods for jacked up rates. It’s something to think about.

Finally, the NHL is trying to keep pace with football, basketball and baseball. They want to be in their club and eat from the same table. It’s not going to happen so stop trying to play their game. Embrace the fact that you’re a niche sport. Get a cult following going and start to grow. Stop trying to play the same game as the NFL or MLB. Draw viewers through these novel approaches so I can watch more than just high school hockey games.

***Pierre Page UPDATE***

Yesterday, resident St. Paul Pioneer Press curmudgeon Charley Walters began a campaign to bring in our namesake and muse, Mr. Pierre Page, as the new head coach of the Minnesota Wild. As he is our constant wellspring of inspirado, let us wholeheartedly join the one-man chorus lobbying for the job to go to The Pierre Page. Some highlights:

June 17, 1948: Slapshot out of the womb of Mrs. Page in St. Hermas, Quebec, Canada.

1980: Hired as assistant coach for the Calgary Flames.

1988: Hired as the classy (according to Walters, anyways) head coach of the Minnesota North Stars, his first head coaching position. Takes North Stars to 1989 Stanley Cup Playoffs, where they lose in the first round.

1990: Fired as North Stars head coach. That season, under rookie Head Coach Bob Gainey, the North Stars advanced to the Stanley Cup Finals, where they lost to Mario Lemieux's Pittsburgh Penguins.

1990-98: Recycled as head coach throughout the NHL. In eight seasons, makes the playoffs four times.

2002: Hired as Head Coach of German League's Berlin Polar Bears. Over the next three seasons, his teams go 101-34.

2009: The singular accomplishment of his career in hockey comes with the unleashing of The Pierre Page, a blog inspired by the man, the myth, the legend of Page.

I know these highlights are not particularly high, but I am, and perhaps I can be forgiven for reminding all of the lessons of Bill Belicheck and Pete Carroll: Both coaches, now widely renowned as world-class cheaters, were recently thought to be great coaches. Before that, they both failed in their first head-coaching endeavors. Could Pierre Page be the next Belicheck or Carroll, a modern-day Phoenix, rising from the ashes of a once-failed career? I call on you, Mr. Chuck Fletcher, to give this Phoenix a chance to fly once more. If nothing else, we can hope that he has learned to cheat as well as Belicheck and Carroll somewhere along the way.

Bartender, I'll Have a Morneau with a Splash of Mauer

It has been well documented here at The Pierre Page that Justin Morneau and Joe Mauer are great baseball players, hit consecutively in the batting order, and are total bff.  As such, they deserve a nickname befitting a dynamic duo like them, no?  

Looking back at some of the great teammate nicknames of past, we’ve had the “Bash Brothers” of McGwire and Canseco; “Run TMC”, the run-and-gun trio of Tim Hardaway, Mitch Richmond, and Chris Mullin; and the iconic “M and M Boys” of Maris and Mantle.  The Mauer/Morneau duo have often been compared to the original M and M Boys, and some in the local media market like to bestow the nickname on this generation’s version (A bit presumptuous?  Perhaps).  However, The Pierre Page frowns mightily at the media's lack of creativity, and would like to propose a nickname for our favorite Twins (recently) slugging duo:

 

    “Canadian Club and 7”, or the shortened variety, “CC and 7”

 

Morneau is Canadian and carries a big club.  Mauer wears number 7.  Together, they make a dry, yet surprisingly pleasant cocktail that packs a punch.  

 

What say you, loyal readers?  Yay or Nay to “CC and 7”?

Baseball: 'merican as an occupied territory

Nothing says 'merican more than saying I hate soccer. Well maybe not nothing. I'm positive future arsonists chanting U-S-A at a summer-league baseball game between the St.Cloud River Bats and the Thunder Bay Border Cats is up there. But hate and soccer in the same sentence? Now that's 'merican.

So what's the problem with "soccer" again? I got drunk at Pit-Stops in Poughkeepsie, NY to find out. After saddling up to the bar and ordering a Coors Light, I began talking with regular Pit-Stopper Anthony Calliguloni, a teamster from White Plains who had to say of soccer, I'll tell you what, it's boring and there's no action. His buddy Franky "Nobody, but nobody" Del Franzia had similar thoughts, You know. They just run around for, like, ya know, like, three hours or sump-thin. Thanks guys, real original.

A person can find these guys everywhere. Real sports fans who punch me in the face when I mistake Hey look at those buffalo wings for a reference to two Russian guys with mullets one table over. Real fans who like hockey and professional wrestling. Real fans who laud American football for its intensity and action and read The New York Times, USA Today, The Daily News, The Washington Post, The Boston Herald and The Star Tribune for their un-wavering coverage of baseball, nascar and domestic politics.

The Three People I'll Meet in Hell: George Will, Sid Hartman and that guy who wrote Tuesdays With Morrie.

Let's not forget about The Pioneer Press, whose idea of rigorous, hard-nosed reportage is a story about local craft-store entrepreneur Nancy Jansen of Pequot Lakes finding her cat Mitsy in a neighbor's old Bayliner. Hear Garrison Keillor's uffdah? I can.

Here's the thing. Two major sporting events took place yesterday: The European Champion's League final between Manchester United and Barcelona and Game 5 of the NBA's Western Conference finals between the LA Lakers and the Denver Nuggets. Yet when I open to the The Daily News' sports page in the morning, a photo of the Mets' Daniel Murphy is staring right at me. Daniel Who-the-fuck?

And the story? The headline reads: Deja Review: Mets win as another video replay gives them sweep of fuming Nats. Subheading: Daniel Murphy applauds as umps reverse field and award him two-run homer following video review in Mets' crazy 7-4 win last night at Citi Field. Seriously people. Who. Gives. A. Shit. This is one game, ONE GAME, in THE most exhausting regular season in the world. Not even cricket can say that and their games last for days. And the outcome? The valiant Mets advance to play their next 90 regular season games. Phew.

In fact, The Daily News did not even mention the match. Not once. They did cover tennis and the need for LeBron James to play for the Knicks. Give me one team that does not need King James, Lieutenant Rumor Mill. Just one. The Reds? I'm sure he could help them out.

I'm of the mind that believes not-talking about major world events is a clear example of the limp-dicked, clock-punching media in this country and it's corporate and government owned publishers refusing to acknowledge there is a world beyond the borders of U-S-A. Of course these rags I've mentioned have international coverage. Some are quite good. But the same stubborn, hyper-patriotism cramming shit down our throats like baseball and it's conservative life-lessons is spreading Freedom and Democracy with a Kalashnikov and a morning raid in countries like Iraq, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Israel and Palestine. And has been for centuries. See Latin America and Native Americans.

Stay tuned. I'm sure Somalia will need a little dose of democracy pretty soon. We'll send USAID over there with new gloves and Eastons and report that we are saving lives with a snapshot of some ass playing catch with a kid from Minneapolis who happens to be Somali, while we install a democratic leader because they like baseball and hamburgers. I can see it now, the Mogadishu Market Muggers versus the small market cinderellas (or should I say Ashantis?) Bender Cassim Commerce Busters.

Failing to adequately cover the Champions League Final is obviously the work of a very savvy editorial board selling papers to a demographic who couldn't give two shits about soccer or newspapers, but that's the problem. THE REST OF THE WORLD gives more than two shits. Even Canada. And so should you.

TWIB Notes

First off, the Pierre Page will be watching with interest tomorrow as Jose Canseco battles 7 foot 2, 330 lb, apparently lavender-haired superheavyweight Hong Man Choi in a Mixed Martial Arts fight. We may change our name to Hong Man Choi also.

Secondly, apologies to Albert Pujols and Han-Ram. Man-Ram, you are irrelevant. Johan, we miss you but sorry. The best player in all of baseball still resides in the Teflon-coated confines of the Hubert H. Humphrey Metrodome. His name? Joseph Patrick Mauer.

My 7th grade science teacher Phil Gustafson would tell you that in order for you to effectively prove or disprove something, you need data. (Then he would say "You're on the ball!") So some data:

The Mauerless Twins averaged 4.23 runs a game in April this year, while Mauer rested a sore lower back. Since his return to the ballclub May 1, they have averaged 6.1 runs a game. His personal statistics for that time (21 games):

.438 Batting Average, 10 HRs, 29 RBI, a .525 On-Base Percentage and a .875 Slugging Percentage. Thanks to my friends at Elias Sports Bureau, I found out that the last time a player had those types of numbers over his first 21 games in a season was 1954, a young lad named Willie Mays.

Last week, in order to create a work-around for the black hole of outs that had been the #2 spot in the batting order, Ron Gardenhire moved Mauer to the second spot, Justin Morneau to the third spot, Michael Cuddyer to the 4th spot, etc. The first game with the new lineup, the Twins scored twenty runs. In fact, in the four games since the switch, the Twins have scored 43 runs.

And as if that wasn't impressive enough, The Pierre Page has learned that Mauer plays catcher, and part of the reason why the Red Sox still pay Jason Varitek ungodly amounts of money is because of how well he handles their pitching staff. In this category too, Mr. Sideburns is doing quite well. The Twins staff, prior to May 1, had a team ERA of 5.26. Since May 1, the team ERA is 4.70.

All of which, taken together, adds up to one thing: this year, the AL MVP award could and should end up back in Minnesota, not belonging again to Justin Morneau, this time to his BFF, Joe Mauer.

Sometimes It's What is NOT Said

One thing I learned in my many years of Lit classes on the way to my Creative Writing Doctorate (a prerequisite for all Pierre Page contributors) was that sometimes in literature what is most important are those thoughts and words left out of the explicit words on the page. The same thing can be said for quality sports play by play. Last night, that was never more apparent than during the Cavaliers versus Magic Game 2, which had an ending that left David Stern's drawers creamier than a jar of Skippy. For those living under a rock or in Goree, Senegal, it went down like this:





Okay fair enough, Marv Albert's quintessential "YES!" is to basketball, what Cantor's "GOOAAALLL!" is to soccer, or Mora's "PLAYOFFS!" is to coaching rants. You don't even need the video to tell you what the hell is going on, because frankly, those words illustrate sufficiently what exactly the hell is going on.

However, imagine if you will, if Pierre Page favorite, Kevin Harlan had been on the mic at the end of that game. While Marv Albert's vernacular and delivery is nothing to sneeze, wheeze or cough at, Kevin Harlan's gruff approach made even the Isaiah "J.R." Rider era Twolves exciting to watch. If a man who could (and should) do play-by-play at the funeral for Pierre Page himself, is for some reason, relegated to NBA Conference Semi-Final/NFL Divisional Playoff status, then consider this, NBA announcer sheduling powers-that-be, exhibit A as to why he should be rockin' the mic next year in the "big" games:



That call, during the NBA Playoffs last year, was the muse for the Pierre Page to only imagine what Kevin Harlan would have said after LeBron James' fateful shot last night. "LeBron James making shadows on the wall like Fat Man on Nagasaki! Or "LeBron James picking people off systematically from atop the clock tower!" Or "LeBron James making like a Planned Parenthood in Panama City!"

Ultimately, like any great author or announcer, the Pierre Page will keep its pie hole shut from here on out and provide you, the reader, with the ability to fill in the blanks.

Because after all, sometimes, it's what's not said.

Some MLB Stats For Your Ass

Let’s take a look at some interesting MLB stats at the ¼ season mark, shall we?

First, the good:

-MN 1B Justin Morneau: 12 2B, 12 HR, 33 RBI, 23 BB, .327 BA, 1.041 OPS

And the even better:

-MN C Joe Mauer: 5 2B, 8 HR, 24 RBI, 13 BB, .417 BA, 1.319 OPS (in only 19 games)

And now the bad:

-MN SS Nick Punto: 2 2B, 0 HR, 11 RBI, 16 BB, .193 BA, .506 OPS

-MN OF Carlos Gomez: 4 2B, 0 HR, 2 RBI, 7 BB, .230 BA, .612 OPS

-MN OF Delmon Young: 1 2B, 1 HR, 14 RBI, 4 BB, .277 BA, .647 OPS

-MN SS Brendan Harris: 4 2B, 2 HR, 7 RBI, 6 BB, .267 BA, .687 OPS

And the sad:

-TB SS Jason Bartlett: 9 2B, 3 3B, 6 HR, 23 RBI, 10 BB, 12 SB, .376 BA, 1.041 OPS

-TB SP Matt Garza: 4 W, 2 L, 27 BB, 53 K, 3.41 ERA

-LAA OF Torii Hunter: 10 2B, 1 3B, 9 HR, 31 RBI, 19 BB, .306 BA, .956 OPS

-NYM SP Johan Santana: 5 W, 2 L, 13 BB, 67 K, 1.36 ERA

I’m not sayin’, I’m just sayin’…

The Curious Case of Carmelo Anthony

There were all sorts of notable storylines from Game 1 of the Western Conference Finals: Kobe Bryant's dominance down the stretch; Anthony Carter forgetting how to throw a bounce pass at the worst possible time, leading to a Trevor Ariza steal and Lakers win; the sudden relevance of the Birdman; the Zen-off between Phil Jackson and George Karl. However, I want to focus on the strange career of Carmelo Anthony, and my conflicted relationship with Melo.

Back in a darker time, let's call it, say, 2003, pre-NBA-age-limit (let's just go ahead and call it the Ndudi Ebi Rule, the same way that we used to talk about Larry Bird Rights), do you remember what a compelling story it was to watch a freshman lead an NCAA team to the Final Four? That was the youthful Carmelo Anthony, leading Syracuse and 9th-year senior Gerry McNamara not just to the Final Four, but a national championship. Such a thing had rarely been accomplished. He was drafted 3rd, after Greatness and Darko, ahead of Bosh, Wade, Ebi, et al. He instantly turned the Nuggets from a perennial post-Dikembe-disaster into a contender.

Then the shit hit the fan. Several pot busts, a "Stop the Snitchin" video, his seeming content to simply put up 20-25 points a night, make a lackadaisical effort in every other part of the game, and make the playoffs and lose in the first round, culminating with last April's DUI arrest. It seemed like he was destined to be an overrated pro who would be mostly remembered for his college career: a New Millennium Ralph Sampson.

Then this season. Perhaps, nay, probably spurred on by the departure of AI and the arrival of Chauncey Billups, Melo once again reinvented himself. He lost the braids, learned how to play defense, and started caring again. It all came to a head (for me, anyways) in Game 1, where for the first 45 minutes of the game, he was the best player on the floor. He dropped 39, played great defense on Kobe, got in Kobe's grill a little bit, and almost single-handedly willed his team to a Game 1 road win against the heavy-favorite Lake Show.

I love Melo 3.0.

Here Comes Farvaro

Well then. According to Shooter (If Charley Walters says it, it must be true), Brett Favre is calling in Dr. James Andrews to repair the ol’ gunslinger’s bicep. This of course, can only mean one of two things: Either Favre is getting ready to shoot another Wrangler Jeans commercial, or he’s preparing for a stint with the 2009 Minnesota Vikings.

As a lifelong, diehard Vikings fan (who also spent 5 years amongst insufferable Packer fans at the great University of Wisconsin – Madison), I have loathed everything green and gold, especially the Demigod of Cheese himself, for as long as I can remember being disappointed by the Vikings. So the news of Favre possibly joining the Vikings has had me stuck in Ron Burgandy’s glass case of emotion since the rumors started swirling early this month. Is he better than our QB options right now? Maybe? Are we better off with a younger QB who can still play in cold weather? Maybe? Will he alienate himself in the locker room and be a bad teammate? Maybe?

However, I have recently come to the belief that I can put aside my deep-rooted hatred towards #4 and welcome Peter King, Deanna, the Ghost of John Madden, and the rest of the Favre circus to town, if only for the purposes of completely tarnishing the Favre legacy in Green Bay and sending our Packer-loving friends into a tailspin of delicious denial and disappointment.

Your friend Donald will be in attendance when the Vikings play the Packers in Lambeau Field on November 1st, and can’t think of anything more satisfying than taking in the reaction of the Packer faithful as Favre runs out of the tunnel, wearing a purple #4 jersey. It would definitely be something to behold.

ESPN headline "Looks aren't everything." Mine "Van Gundy's a slob and his team's as mature as his shirt looks after a meal at old country buffet"

Listen. It's not news that Stan Van Gundy is the most 9-5 looking, blue-plate special eating air-conditioner salesman in the NBA. Nor is the fact that he looks nearly identical to Ron Jeremy going to interrupt any regularly scheduled programming.

But just for shits and giggles and because this man and the more talented Orlando Magic just defeated Doc Rivers and the defending champion Boston Celtics in a game 7 in Boston after pathetically self-imploding in a Jerry Springer-esque press circus, I want you to pull your sister aside or any one of your friends who'd think that Bob Cousy is the name of their Rascal Flatts can-koozie they clung to at last year's WEFest and show them this picture with the following multiple choice question:

What does this man do for a living?

A. A hall monitor at The Home of the Presbyterian Brothers for Chaste Living
B. Unemployed, abusive step-dad
C. A professional basketball coach
D. A sex offender
E. Eastern European culture and history buff

If they guess basketball coach it is only because they can sense irony just by looking at him. Stan the Man is a Williamsburgers wet dream. See a red plaid shirt around the waist of tight black skinny jeans and a retro Stan Van Gundy bobble head shirt on the members of the next it band. Wolf-something or ghost-something. Stan Van Gundy and the Ghost Wolves.

As a fan of things that are easy-on-the-eyes, I am tired of our good friends Jeff and Stan Van Gundy who keep reminding us, a win is a win is a win, ugly or not. It is contagious. See Stephon Marbury (whose major contributions to the series were 3-4 acrobactic turnovers per game), Rajon Rondo, Paul Pierce and the rest of the hesitant, where-the-fuck-is-Ray-Allen game 7 Boston Celtics of 2009.

Though I do have to give credit where credit is due. Name one other coach in NBA history who has made his team play and act like a hologram of himself a la Wolf Blitzer and Will.I.AM. Let's not even get into Hedo Turkoglu, Dwight Howard's pre-game PR spots, pizza and JJ "Good-times" Redick. He's just such a fun guy, Dyn-o-mite!

The Pierre Page Guide to the NBA Draft Lottery

According to my sources, the NBA draft lottery takes place tomorrow, with the results being announced before Game 1 of the Western Conference Finals. The Kings, who finished with the worst record in the league, have a 25% chance of getting the first overall pick, which will most likely be Oklahoma C Blake Griffin. Our hometown Timberwolves have officially a 7.6% chance of getting the first, second, or third overall pick, but having been a Timberwolves fan for most of my life, I would lower the odds down to oh, about a 0.00% chance of landing one of the top 3 picks. Given the PP's pro-Spaniard, pro-shaggy haircut bias, we are all in favor of the Wolves getting the second pick, which would allow us to take supple young shag-haired Ricky Rubio. Alas, it will not be. In fact, here are several things more likely to happen than the Timberwolves having one of their ping-pong balls fall down that fated hopper:

1. Dick Cheney records a hip-hop album with Soulja Boy.
2. Yao Ming makes it through an important sequence of games without getting hurt.

3. Lou Dobbs is outed as having several wives, all of whom are either Chinese nationalists or illegal Mexican immigrants.

4. Brett Favre stays retired.

5. Brett Favre willingly attends mini-camps.
6. Seth McFarlane has an entire episode of Family Guy that doesn't rip off several jokes and its entire premise from The Simpsons.
7. Dinosaurs found living in Winnipeg.

So Wolves fans, line up now to get your Demar Derozan jerseys, because we all know that this team needs another swingman like it needs Christian Laettner as its next head coach.

The NBA, where David Stern holds grudges forever.

The Pierre Page Putting Paper in Purses

Being that many of our faithful readers are hardcore fans of the Sport of Kings (granted mostly of the Harness variety), we at the Pierre Page have decided to reward our devoted readers with our foolproof betting program whose success was recently confirmed with today's Preakness Stakes. Thousands, no, millions will be awarded to those who simply follow these rules:

1. Horses should be exactly, or very close in name to any person who was in Mrs. Curran's homeroom class at Snail Lake Elementary School during the 1989-1990 school year. (example: Rachel Alexandra - horse, Rachel Alexander - student)

Future Triple Crown winners may or may not include: Janet Harmen, Steve Kantorwitcz, Kevin Holme and certain Belmont Stakes thoroughbred champion, Adam Metzler

Wayman Tisdale

Welcome world. First off, rest in peace Wayman Tisdale, I remember having your NBA Hoops Draft Lottery card. Sadly, that's all I remember about your NBA career. Secondly, this is an inauspicious beginning to what will surely become a sporting monolith on a par with ESPN. Thirdly, hands down, the best nickname Ron Gardenhire has for anyone is obviously for Nick Blackburn: "Blacky".