NHL Trade Deadline-Watch

Unlike the NBA, the NHL has never been gun shy of making a crazy bunch of deals when the trade deadline hits. This year was no exception to that rule, as every team in the NBA pretty much ignored their flaws, while their winter season counterparts did all kinds of last minute retooling to try and secure the Stanley Cup. This is one of the many reasons why the NHL is more intriguing than the NBA, but that’s fodder for another post.

There were 31 deals made in the 48 hours that led up to the deadline, and don’t worry; I’m not going to break them all down here. If you really want my opinion on Scott Parker going back to the Avalanche, I suppose you can leave a comment. But it’s all about the highlights and lowlights here. So let’s make like Too Short and break it down, yo:

Trades that were really good

*The Islanders getting Richard Zednik from the Capitals. The fact that the Islanders are only one point out of the playoffs is pretty incredible, considering their owner is a complete madman. If they don’t make the post-season, it’s going to surprise zero people. So why not roll the dice on a streaky scorer like Zednik in hopes that he catches fire? Considering he missed a good chunk of the year because of a groin injury, his legs should be a little fresher than others. Even if they gave up a 2nd round pick next year, it’s still worth the gamble. Besides, who wouldn’t love to see an insane dude like Charles Wang give a Stanley Cup victory speech? If this trade doesn’t do it for you, how about…

*…the Islanders also acquiring Ryan Smyth from the Oilers? This is easily the most shocking trade of the day, especially under the circumstances that I heard it happened under. Apparently, the Oilers were trying to re-negotiate the contract of the soon-to-be-free agent Smyth up until about 3:00 pm, when they gave up. Twenty minutes later, Smyth was shipped off to Long Island. Whereas Zednik is a streaky scorer, Smyth is a proven scorer, who is as flashy as he is tough. He’s about as immovable from the crease as the boards are. This trade alone not only puts them in the playoffs, but probably wins them a series.

*The Sharks getting Bill Guerin from the Blues. This move provides veteran leadership on a San Jose team that is loaded with talent, but also saddled with the reputation of not winning when it counts. Guerin changes that. He’s still a great scorer and a nice physical presence in front of the net, which could clear the way for Joe Thornton to actually score a couple of goals in the post-season.

*The Penguins getting Georges Laraque from the Coyotes. Easily the most underrated maneuver of the deadline. Yes, Laraque is an enforcer. However, he gets to be Sidney Crosby’s and Evgeni Malkin’s bodyguard. Opposing teams had better respect the badge. As a result, the two may even have more open ice around them, which is a scary proposition. Plus, he can make enough of a contribution on both ends of the ice to warrant a regular shift, so it’s not like the Pens traded for a one-dimensional guy.

Trades that made me go meh.

*The Red Wings getting Todd Bertuzzi from the Panthers. Bertuzzi has not been the same player since the Steve Moore incident, and part of that reason was because of all the pressure media put on him since the hit. Now he’s been traded to the one U.S. city that scrutinizes their hockey team like they are a Canadian city. This is not a good combination. I know the Wings were looking for a Brendan Shanahan type to clog the net and help out Pavel Datsyuk, but unless Bertuzzi comes out of the gate and flourishes, the Hockeytown faithful will lose their patience with him, and that will get into his head. This will happen at about the middle of March.

*The Senators getting Oleg Saprykin from the Coyotes. Because if there’s one thing that Ottawa has needed based on their past playoff disappointments, is yet another speed guy that has limited playoff character. Any other type of player would have been a better fit for a post-season run than Saprykin. Truly, this is the kind of trade that will doom Ottawa’s playoff run.

*The Sabres getting Ty Conklin from the Blue Jackets, after dealing Martin Biron to the Flyers. I’m guessing this was done for financial purposes, but that doesn’t make the move any smarter. You know why the Oilers made the Stanley Cup Finals last year? Because they actually traded for a guy that prevented Conklin from playing in the playoffs. (And keep in mind he made the biggest screw-up in the playoffs last year when he was forced to step into the action). If Ryan Miller gets banged up, the Sabres now have zero chance of winning the Cup. I’d say the Senators would possibly run Miller in the playoffs because of this fact if they met, but they traded for Saprykin, so they probably won’t make it that far.

Of course, just by merely typing this post, I’ve guaranteed that Smyth will go scoreless in the playoffs and Buffalo will with the Stanley Cup as Ty Conklin wins the Conn Smythe trophy for playoff MVP. But then again, at least I voiced my opinion and took a chance, which is more than can be said for the vast majority of NBA owners.

The AFL Can Now Drink

Sorry if this makes you feel old, but it should be worth noting that the Arena Football League is celebrating its 21st season. Yes, it’s that slow of a sports news day that I’m bringing up the AFL. However, it should be worth noting that this plucky little league’s survival is pretty amazing. When it first arrived on the scene back in 1987, it was looked upon as nothing more than a freak novelty act that would die a quick death. Considering that the game was drawn up on the back of a large envelope by the league’s founder while attending a hockey game (at least, that’s how the legend goes), there was no reason to think otherwise. After all, the weird uniqueness of indoor soccer had started to grow stale at that time, and the NFL had anhilated the USFL less than two years earlier (even though Arena Football bared little resemblance to the traditional game, it was still a point of contention). So what chance did it have?

Well, all the naysayers that met the league upon its humble arrival neglected to realize that the game might be fun. Turned out it was, and that fact alone gave it a fighting chance. Add to it that the league has never exhibitied any egotistical bent, and you got a winning formula. What I mean by lack of ego, is that they have built an impressive lineage of trial and error. The league has grown in some years, and truncated in others. They have a list of 47 teams that are now defunct. Yet they’ve managed to persevere somehow, and they are still here, 21 years later, with a solid television contract and, more importantly, the complete and total blessing from the NFL. So the smart money is on the league being around for another 21 more years.

In fact, if you live within a decent radius of an AFL team, I urge you to go see a game live. The tickets are cheap, the atmosphere is family-friendly, and the action on the field is fast and furious. It’s absolutely worth the $10 you’ll pay to get in. Besides, if you’re one of those people that shelled out $10 for “Norbit,” I guarantee that a better time awaits you for the same amount of money.

Old Time Hockey Sells

Memo to Gary Bettman: When your league makes the obligatory suspensions that will undoubtedly come from Thursday’s Senators-Sabres game, please spare us the rehearsed speil in which you say that extended, multi-player fights (including the goalies) are not good for the game’s growth, and that it hurts the league’s publicity. It’s nothing more than tedious dreck, and there are going to be heaps of people that will absolutely call you out on it if you do.

Seriously, there is no way he can come out and say that Thursday’s line brawl and goalie fight is bad for the NHL’s image. Truth be told, it was the most exposure the NHL has had on TV all year in the United States. If you haven’t seen it yet, check it here. As you watch it, take note of two key elements: First of all, Ottawa goalie Ray Emery is smiling throughout the whole fracas, even after he gets jumped by Buffalo forward Andrew Peters (which totally goes against the code of on-ice pugilistics — typically, goalies fight goalies and that’s it). It’s made me ponder whether or not I think he’s insane or if he’s my favorite goalie in the league now for the last day and a half. I’m leaning toward the latter. The other thing you need to note during the fight is the crowd. They are going berserk. They love this, just like they loved it back in the ’70s and ’80s before Bettman became the sheriff and started to try and clean up the game. And it wasn’t just the partisan crowd that dug it, either. To wit: I jumped on Fark to see what the buzz was about this game, and the entire comment thread on the site consisted of two major themes:

1. This game was awesome. I love/miss this kind of hockey.
2. I don’t really follow the NHL, but that was awesome.

That second comment right there is all you need to know about how important this fight was for the league’s image, and I don’t mean that in a negative way whatsoever. This fight — and it was the first true line brawl and goalie fight since the lockout occured — got people to talk about the sport, and not in just derisive bits of “they still play hockey?” sarcasm. Even those who get on their high horse about fighting in the league have to admit that this was good for the league, and that it’s a lure to get fans to watch if they can find a game on TV. For example, it led to this paraphrased exchange between Mike Wilbon and Tony Kornheiser on “PTI” Friday:

Wilbon: I wouldn’t want to take my 10-year old to a game where something like that would happen.
Kornheiser: But when you were 10 years old and living in Chicago, you liked watching this stuff, right?
Wilbon: (without pausing) Yes, I did! I loved watching the Blackhawks throw down on the Boston Bruins!

Not only is everybody still talking about this game — the fact that it wound up being a wildly entertaining 6-5 shootout win for Buffalo is much more than an afterthought — people are getting excited for Saturday night’s rematch between these two teams. I know I am. I’ve got my Center Ice package and my DVR ready to rock. And whether Bettman likes it or not, this incident that he would undoubtedly find to be so distasteful has generated the largest buzz for the NHL since they came back from their lockout. If he really cares about the league, he shouldn’t try and distance himself from incidents like this. Rather, he needs to embrace them. If he wants an exciting product on the ice, he shouldn’t try to put the kibosh on fighting. I’m starting to think that the drop in fighting over the years may be directly proportional to the drop in scoring, just because now there is no fear of retribution if you abuse the other team’s stars all game. Putting the fear of the players policing themselves back into the game will go a long way into opening up the game like no rule change could. Not only that, but if Bettman and his cronies insist on a team playing the same four squads for 27% of their schedule, the least he could do is remove all the barriers that are in place from allowing a true rivalry develop. If Florida and Tampa Bay started to really, genuinely hate each other, I’d start watching their games.

I’ll be watching the increasingly bitter rivalry between Buffalo and Ottawa renew this evening (thankfully, no suspensions haven’t been handed down yet, so the same players from Thursday can be in the lineup tonight). So will pretty much anyone who subscribes to the Center Ice package, I’m sure. Let’s hope Bettman gets the memo this time.

Dennis Johnson: 1954-2007

One of the signs of a great player is the “mere mention” test. What I mean is, the mere mention of his name will instantly evoke one strong memory that serves as an instant testimony to the player’s greatness. For example, the mere mention of John Elway makes me think of him being helicoptered during Super Bowl XXXII. The mere mention of Mark Messier conjures up the image of him in a Ranger uniform cradling the Stanley Cup and joyously shaking like a six year old whose digested one too many Pixy Sticks. Granted, there have been some duds that have passed this test (every time I hear the name Jesse Orosco, I instantly picture him throwing his glove up in the air after recording the final out in Game 7 of the ‘86 World Series), but the great ones that trigger the evocation make you stop for a few seconds and realize just how damn good they really were.

I didn’t think of Dennis Johnson this way until I heard about him this untimely death this afternoon. As soon as I heard it, I was transported back to my parents’ living room, to the year 1985, watching the final seconds of Game 4 of the series between the Lakers and the Celtics, and watching DJ calmly nail an open 20 footer to win the game and even the series at 2. That shot sickened me at the time, because I knew the Lakers had never beaten the Celtics in a Final, and they were going to have to at least win one more game in Beantown, where the Celtics had never lost a deciding game before (not to mention that the series started off with the infamous “Memorial Day Massacre” where the Lakers got pounded at the Boston Garden). As the years went by, and I realized that lots of Laker fans felt the same way, I made note of just how big of a psychological dagger on the overall psyche of Laker fans that shot was. I still have not seen any basketball game in which a crowd went from absolute hysteria to dead silence so quickly, so abruptly, like the crowd at the old Forum did. And Johnson the guy who had the stones to shoot it. Not Bird. Not McHale. Not Parrish. DJ did it. Looking back, DJ had to the stones to do a lot of things on the basketball court. I’m sure a lot of people will remember him for being on the receiving end of Larry Bird’s remarkable steal and pass against Detroit in the ‘87 playoffs — and there’s nothing wrong with that — but his shot in Game 4 in the ‘85 series will

He never put up great offensive numbers (although they were comparable to Joe Dumars), but he was the one guy on the Celtics other than Bird who I was terrified of in crunch time. He always hit the shots when he absolutely had to. He was the anti-Stephon Marbury, as the team he was playing for always got better when he was there, and always got worse when he left. He was the only guy of his era who played defense on the level of the Lakers’ defensive wizard Michael Cooper. He shut down everybody who dared challenged him. If you watch the old Celtics-Lakers series, you’ll notice that the Lakers did everything they possibly could to keep Magic off of DJ. If that’s not a sign of how great a player DJ was, I don’t know what was.

While I was growing up, I disliked him, because he was the enemy. Now that he’s departed this world, I’m going to miss him, because he was a fantastic embodiment of what a complete guard looks like. The Marburys and the Francises of the NBA should watch old tapes of DJ. They’d learn volumes.

Tommy “The Duke” Sucks

We all know that professional boxing has devolved into a hackneyed joke, but Tommy Morrison stepping back into the ring has none of the sadly ironic humor that has been the one saving grace from the sport’s complete descent into oblivion. Some serious questions abound regarding his fight on Thursday. First of all, he was tested positive for HIV ten years ago, and now he’s coming around to say that it was a false positive and he’s free from HIV. If that’s truly the case, how come it took him a decade to figure this out. Not only that, but if the diagnosis was truly bogus, it cost him potentially millions of dollars in boxing revenue. Why is his first action after the false positive not suing the ass off of the doctors who gave him the bogus result? Plus, he’s fighting in West Virginia because it’s a state that doesn’t require a blood test before a bout. In a era where all refs and trainers where gloves for protection, why is this state relaxed on the testing policy? Are they not aware that HIV is still a devastating virus? Why would they abide by the honor system, especially when one of the combatants had a positive test ten years ago (botched or not)? Finally, who in the world would even be interested in fighting Morrison? Nobody could really be that desparate for a puglistic payday, could they?

If it turns out that Morrison was lying — and honestly, there’s no reason to believe that he’s telling the truth — this could hurt boxing to the point where nobody ever thinks to take it seriously again. That is, if anyone still does anyway. I know I haven’t in years. In the wake of this whole Morrison mess, I don’t see any reason why to, either.

Chris Hanson is my Journalism Hero

When I was growing up, no journalist was more fun to watch than Geraldo Rivera. Nobody remembers this, but before he did the whole Al Capone’s Secret Vault thing, he was a pretty kick-butt journalist, leading the charge (and TV cameras) in exposing squirrely folk for the bad seeds they really were. He was the face that the loathsome types didn’t want to see, because they knew they were screwed. But then he did the Capone thing, got hit in the nose with a flying chair on his talk show, and did an over the top, two hour expose on Satanism, and he lost his right to be taken seriously. Since then, we haven’t had anyone we can turn to that could take ol’ Gerry’s place.

At least, that’s what I thought up until a few weeks ago. That’s when I stumbled across an episode of Dateline NBC and their “To Catch a Predator” series, and saw journalist Chris Hanson in action.

For those of you who don’t know what the show is about, essentially it is an hour long sting operation in which pervs that prey on underage boys and girls get lured into a false rendezvous and get arrested. It serves a great purpose because it gets these dangerous people off the streets, but it also has managed to make Hanson the coolest journalist around, period. What makes him so awesome is the way the show is structured. Typically, a perp is brought into a house and enteres the kitchen or patio area, and starts to strike up a conversation with the decoy that they think is an underage kid. Right in the middle of the discussion, Hanson suddenly walks around the corner and into the room, usually saying something like “did you find the place okay?” or “enjoying your drink?” in the smarmiest tone humanly possible. After the perp takes a seat opposite of Hanson (when they don’t bolt for the door and into the hands of the awaiting police force outside), good ol’ Chris verbally dismantels the perp, using stuff like internet chat files and incriminating photos to catch the soon-to-be-criminal in lies and otherwise destroy the creep. It’s great to watch because Hanson has this incredible air of smugness about him as he’s nailing the bad guys to the wall. Seriously, he’s what I’d imagine what David Caruso would be like if Caruso could act. But he totally gets away with it because he pretty much says all the same things that I would want to say to one of these people, right down to the tone. It’s quite cathartic.

If you have room on your TiVo, do yourself a favor and record next week’s episode (Tuesday at 8:00). It will reel you in. It may also make you hope that Hanson can steer clear of doing something like a special on Anna Nicole Smith’s death five years from now.

Kidd to the Lakers? An Interesting Theory, Indeed

Okay, NBA conspiracy theorists. You know who you are. You’re the ones that are convinced that David Stern froze the Knicks’ lottery envelope in 1985 to win the Patrick Ewing sweepstakes. You’re also the ones that know that Stern told Michael Jordan to take a year and a half off from basketball because of his gambling problem. I know you’re out there. I’ve talked to some of you. Well, it’s time to get your tin foil hats on again, because Jason Kidd’s apparently on the trading block, and a lot of people are saying he’s heading to the Lakers.

What does this have to do with you conspiracy theorists, you ask? Simple. Say the Lakers get Kidd. Suddenly, Kobe Bryant is paired with a point guard that can get him the ball anywhere on the court at any time. Kidd also can push the ball and run up the tempo, which could evoke fond memories of the old “Showtime” era. The Lakers instantly become on par with Dallas, San Antonio, and especially Phoenix for Western Conference supremacy. Ultimately, an epic Lakers-Suns playoff series would be in the cards if it can be arranged (which it can, because it’s a conspiracy theory). If a Kidd-and-Kobe-led Laker squad takes on the Suns and their habit of playing basketball the way it’s supposed to be played, not only do you have a re-match of possibly the best playoff series from last year, you would also have the best playoff series of the decade. I’ll say that right now. Remember, the last time Phoenix played Kidd and his current team, the game wound up being a triple overtime track meet in which 150 points was not enough to win. Now imagine that Kidd team with Kobe as his wingman. (No offense to Vince Carter, but who wouldn’t rather have Kobe than Vince in their backcourt?) That would be a series that would singlehandedly spark the kind of interest that has long been dormant in old school basketball fans, not to mention it would get people talking about the sport again, rather than the hoodlum element that Vegas seemed to bring out in droves. And you know Stern would endorse anything that worked that kind of mojo. So it’s not to far-fetched to think that Stern called upon his powers to coersce New Jersey to shop Kidd to the greater Los Angeles area, would it? I mean, Stern probably still feels bad about letting the boring Spurs win a couple of titles, right?

Gotta go. My tin foil hat just fell off.

God Is Not a Charger Fan

Really, what else is there to say after San Diego hired Norv Turner to be their head coach? After Marty Schottenheimer’s firing, I spent the next several days hoping — no, praying — that the Bolts wouldn’t go out and hire the worst possible person for the job. Not that the pickings was particularily abundant, mind you, but Turner was the dumbest choice that could have been made, and they made it. Seriously, I would have been cool with them hiring Ike Turner as their head coach if it was down to him or Norv. Regardless of the fact that they got 3-4 defensive guru Ted Cottrell to be the Defensive Coordinator, Norv is such a ruthlessly bad coach, his mere presence as the head guy instantly downgrade the team from Super Bowl contender to hopeful division winner. To wit: His career record is 58-82-1, for a robust winning percentage of .415. Yet the Chargers gave him his third chance at coaching. In the entire 80+ year history of the league, only three coaches ever had a worse winning percentage going into their third tour of duty. Not only that, this is the same Norv Turner who was completely swallowed up and crapped out by the Oakland Raiders. He was completely powerless in the locker room, on a level equal to putting Brick Tamland from “Anchorman” in charge of Attica. Can you honestly picture a guy like Shawne Merriman kowtowing to this wimp? I know I can’t. The best Turner-led team in his nine years as head coach finished the regular season at 10-6. Not only that, I’m sure I’ll be able to read Bill Simmons’ infamous Norv Turner anecdote about how his buddy sat at a blackjack table with him, only to watch the coach completely play pretty much every hand the wrong way. Unbelievable.

If I have to say anything positive about him, is that he seems like a nice guy and he’s really good at developing quarterbacks. However, the latter description only applies to when he’s an offensive coordinator (Exhibit A: Troy Aikman as an OC, Heath Shuler and Gus Frerotte as a head coach), and he was pretty much a laughingstock by the time he left Oakland. And somehow he got hired again, and ready to work his…well…whatever the opposite of magic is. God help all of us Charger fans. Even if the Man Upstairs isn’t a fan of the team itself.

Was Vegas a Good Idea?

Before the NBA All-Star Game had even started, it was easy to see that its Las Vegas venue had completely engulfed the actual contest itself. Heck, the game was almost kind of an afterthought, wasn’t it? It was pretty clear to me that it was one three plus hour advertisement for Las Vegas. I mean, Wayne Newton came out and did a song-and-dance number. Hell, he even broke out a white fiddle. Now, I don’t know about you, but when I see the fabulous Newton, my mind doesn’t necessarily wander to that of Kobe Bryant, LeBron James, or Dwyane Wade. I think of whn my next Vegas run is going to happen (the answer: not soon enough). It was somehow even more farcical than the league trotting out Big & Rich in Denver a couple of years back.

And then there’s the game: Sure, it was high-scoring (153-132), but it always should be. Any NBA All-Star Game in which at least one team doesn’t put up 125 should instantly be stricken from the record. There was some fun showboating, and plays that were thrilling to see, and even some goofball antics (what else would you call Shaq planting a smooch on Tracy McGrady’s face after a dunk?). However, the game was lacking a soul. Players looked tired out there. Specifically, pretty much everyone on the East looked like they maybe got 5 hours of sleep the whole weekend. Everyone, that is, with the exception of Dwight Howard, which is really odd since he just turned gambling age in December and this was conceivably his first trip to Vegas as an “adult.” Then again, he did go to a Christian high school, so maybe all that Vegas fun is verboten to him. If that’s the case, someone should inform Howard about the magic of the Lutheran church. But I digress. The East looked so lethargic, it made me really wish that there was going to be a way to track how many illegitimate pregnancies are going to come out of this weekend, if you get my meaning. The West had some great performances (Bryant, Tony Parker, Amare Stoudamire), but they didn’t look like they were ballin’ with a full tank, either. Of course, it didn’t help matters much that there seemed to be about 17 players on the Western Conference team that couldn’t play due to injury, but that’s not to say that the players that replaced them didn’t have skills. In addition, some players were grumbling after the game about players having a lack of energy while allowing an air of carelessness permeate the proceedings. It just looked like the city of Las Vegas swallowed the All-Stars up, and spit them out feeling as haggard as a 5 year old on the benches at Circus Circus at midnight waiting for mommy and daddy to blow through their quarters at the Wheel of Fortune slot 100 feet in front of them (really, there is no sight in Vegas more depressing than that scene, but that’s another topic).

As novel of a concept it was, don’t anticipate this experiment to be repeated by David Stern and his crew. Also, never expect a pro team to permanately call this place home. There are just way too many distractions available in Vegas for a rich young athlete with liberal spending habits, a description that amply describes a healthy chunk of the players in town. A NBA team filled with those kinds of individuals would eventually be too big of a headache for Stern to deal with, not only from a game standpoint, but probably from an image standpoint, too. Unless, of course, that team was popluated by 12 Dwight Howard clones. Then it may have a chance. That is, if none of them convert to the Lutheran church.

Sweede Music in Nashville

So Peter Forsberg is now a Nashville Predator.

If he manages to stay healthy, this is a spectacular move for the Preds. In an ultra-tight Western Conference where Nashville is battling Detroit in the Central, Anaheim is fending off Dallas and San Jose in the Pacific, and the entire Northwest division is beating up on each other, the Predators have to be the team to beat now, don’t they? Forsberg makes them three-deep in offensive centers, gives them added flexibility on the power play, and gives them even more freedom to be aggressive on offense (especially since they fortified their defense earlier this month with the acquisition of sturdy, dirty defenseman Vitali Vishnevski). It also lessens the burden on Jason Arnott, which may make him a bigger threat. Heck, it may even be enough to get the folks in Nashville to show up to a game every now and then. (Seriously, this is the team that needs to be uprooted, not Pittsburgh. Then again, they are playing in the middle of the Bible Belt, they are nicknamed the Predators, and they are playing in a place called the Gaylord Entertainment Center. Maybe the allure of the NHL isn’t the problem here.) This move may have been the one maneuver to keep the Stanley Cup in the South.

Of course, Forsberg’s ankles are about as solid as a gelatin dessert, it’s a miracle of sorts to go two consecutive months without missing some time due to injury, and he’s already been banged up this season, so this move is not without risk. If his season ends before Nashville’s, the team could be in trouble. Keep in mind that even though they are in first place in the Central, they are still playing in a division that gives them the luxury of playing 24 games against Chicago, St. Louis, and Columbus, so they may need this move much more than it may look. A healthy Forsberg kind of leverages all that out, where as an injured Forsberg puts them back as a team ripe for the picking, just like they (and fellow Central division dominators Detroit) were last year.

I’d be interested to see what the Predators can do with a healthy Forsberg in their lineup. It may be enough to allow them to lord over the league this summer. It may also be enough to get more Nashvillians to have a good time at the Gaylord.