This is Our Year, This is Our Year, This is Our Year, This is Our Year

I have been alive for a score and some bits, and I have been a Canucks fan for all of them. I have seen my fair share of disappointment, heartbreak, and failure, and I believe that primary reason for this is that's all the Canucks have done so far. Sure, they have made a few finals, but what is their legacy? Dramatic losses, collapses, chokes, letdowns... For most of the last 40 years, the Canucks have been a lovable room of schlubs who occasionally rise above themselves. When they make headway into proving they're so much more than that, somebody breaks somebody else's neck or something and everything comes toppling back to earth.

And yet I keep plucking that chicken (NSFW, but hilarious), because one day, I believe, they're inevitably going to win the Stanley Cup, and the half-century of heartbreak will just be a charming footnote on the way to their inevitable glory. No, David Cassidy, it won't be forever. It's going to happen very soon. This is what we all think, but it's not just that. We think it's going to happen next year, every year. I used to wish that I would meet a genie, and I would ask him to tell me when the Canucks were going to win the Stanley Cup. Later on, this alarmed me: in my heart of hearts, I always assumed it was soon, that the genie would say it was coming within the next three years, of course. But what if it wasn't for twenty years? Would I still be a fan during the years I knew for a fact they weren't going to win? If Marty McFly gave you his Sports Almanac, and you discovered the Canucks weren't going to win a Stanley Cup in this next decade, would you still follow the team during the futility? I don't know. I don't know if any of us would. I think our Canucks fandom is based less on the love of sports and more on the presumption that we've hit rock bottom so many times, this has to be (it has to be! it has to be!) our year. If we knew for a fact we were going to spend many more years licking boot, would we stick around?

In this way, I think Canucks fans are different from regular sports fans. Canucks fans are held together by a grand promise of the future. It's been forty years; it couldn't be many more, we say, and that depressing thought is the backdoor to a stupid optimism. Yes, we're blind to ourselves, we're ignorant, we're overly optimistic, and we are prone to irrational mood swings, but that's because we're tapped out and we think the universe is too. Our glory is imminent. Canucks fans are that lady who hangs around the slot machines for hours and jumps in once someone else realizes they've wasted a ton of time. This thing has to pay out soon, we say. It has to. Tommy Larscheid's retirement has all the Vancouver media guys reflecting on how long they've been working with this team, waiting for one thing, and when it might finally happen. And be honest: we all think it might happen this year; this is our year. It definitely is, said my heart.

Ryan Kesler & Jack Johnson are Bad at Acting

Kesler, Johnson and the 2K Sports bus shower @ Yahoo! Video

Okay, so this is a Canucks blog, and we are forced--yes, honour-bound--to give you every promotional video the Canucks and their players are a part of. This is, of course, excepting that horrible Ryan Walter video he did for Moore's, and that's only because he got fired last week.

Ryan Kesler and Jack Johnson are apparently cruising the country in an RV, promoting NHL 2k11, which doesn't look terrible. However, their ads--apparently intended to go viral--are terrible. Kesler's as wooden as Kyle Wellwood's tiny one-piece hockey stick and Jack Johnson isn't much better. There is one good moment:

Jack Johnson: You signed your own jersey?

LOLz.

Apart from that, though, this is a bad video. It's not funny and I hated watching it. Enjoy!

The Game's Best Defensemen Are Always Here

Duncan Keith is pretty good. He is always here.

Vancouver Canucks fans are raw about the 2010 playoffs. They're raw because we lost to the Chicago Blackhawks--again, and because we lost in such a spectacular way: the profligate defense, the bankrupt penalty kill, the bedraggled goaltending... Pavol Demitra... Vancouver Canucks fans are raw because we thought we were better, that we deserved better. But here's the thing: we were treated to something incredible special during those playoffs--something that no other team can brag: we got to watch Drew Doughty and Duncan Keith destroy us for twelve games.

It was magical.

It's often hard to notice a good defenseman, primarily because a good defenseman doesn't make mistakes, and defenders primarily get noticed when they're beaten. NHL defense is subtle and fluid, remarkably so at the elite level. This is excepting the prodigous ones, the defensemen so good they can't help but stand out every moment they're on the ice. Duncan Keith and Drew Doughty? These guys basically glow. They do things no other defensemen can do, and you have to notice because you never see it. What's more, they do it at high-speed, with a mind-boggling grace and ease. They rush the puck like all-star forwards, they backcheck at lightning speed, they run a seamless power play, they possess the puck like no one else, and they dig the puck out of the boards while being completely unhittable.

Think about it: how many times did Duncan Keith swivel around and retrieve a Canuck dump-in? How many times did you scream, "Hit him!" only to discover the puck was already out, the 'Hawks were in transition, and the Vancouver offense was behind an odd-man rush. Duncan Keith was blink-and-you-missed it incredible all series long, and you saw it because you were exposed to him for six games.

What blows me away is that Drew Doughty was arguably better. We hated him more, because he singlehandedly carried that Kings team. In retrospect, who but Doughty made any noise at all? Other Kings scored, sure, but only Doughty made us clench our fists and pray to the hockey gods he passed the puck to someone less brilliant, less prodigous.

Keith, Doughty, it was a treat to see these guys, to have such a long, in-depth look at what makes them the best defensemen in the game. This article is to ensure that we appreciate this. Sure, one of them beat us, and the other nearly did all by himself, but despite our bias, let us understand that Duncan Keith and Drew Doughty, the Sidney Crosby and Alexander Ovechkin of NHL defensemen, treated us to something rare.

People talk about how the biggest problem with the Canucks is that we don't have an elite defenseman. We look at Doughty, Keith, and Weber, and we shake our heads, saying, "why don't we have one of those?"

I think our petty jealously blinds us to how truly jealous we should actually be.

These guys don't grow on trees. They're generational talents. Rather than demand Gillis gets us one, which is unlikely considering it would be like Gillis finding a Dragon Ball, we should bask in their rare and special greatness every time they come to town. In fact, I'm getting tired of hearing about how all the stars are in the Eastern Conference. No they aren't. Crosby and Ovechkin are. After that, it's a dead heat offensively (they have Stamkos, Gaborik, Backstrom, we have Sedin, Thornton, Kane) and defensively, we have everyone. Shea Weber, Drew Doughty, Duncan Keith, Brent Seabrook, Nicklas Lidstrom, Scott Neidermayer. These are guys that can control an entire NHL game from the backend and control it in a way that is visible to the average hockey fan. Who in the Eastern Conference does that? Zdeno Chara, maybe? Chris Pronger? Maybe when motivated. Not every night, that's for sure.

As Canuck fans and as Westerners we should take stock of the privilege we have to watch The Sedins every night, to watch Keith and Doughty multiple times each year, and potentially see them up close and personal over a seven-game playoff series. We need to stop complaining about how the East doesn't care about us, how our geographical plight prevents us from seeing the game's stars. It's not true. During the 09-10 season, we got downright sick of seeing the game's best defensemen. We were spoiled.

Tom Larscheid Retires, Leaves Gaping High-Pitched Laugh-Shaped Hole

"Let's face facts: Jan Bulis is just a dumb hockey player."

~ Tom Larscheid

It was announced today that after 33 years as the Canucks radio color commentator, Tom Larscheid will only be calling one more game. He and John Shorthouse will call the season opener against the LA Kings and will subsequently hang up the headphones and mic.

Tommy is a legend in Vancouver and he will be sorely missed. He had a way of bringing the game to life on the radio that is hard to match. As a former football player, he wasn't always the best analyst of the game of hockey, but he had an infectious enthusiasm and a straight-shooting personality. He was always up front with his homerism, but wasn't afraid to call out players (like Jan Bulis), when they weren't performing up to par. He was blunt, but fair, and it always felt like he was the fan's representative in the booth, upset when the fans were upset, happy when the fans were happy.

He could also turn a phrase like few others. "Bingo, bango, bongo, his name is Roberto Luongo." That line wouldn't have worked coming from anyone other than Tommy. He talked about "fire in the belly," "calling the coppers," and laughed his incredibly recognizable high-pitched laugh. He's also given some memorable lines for, well, other reasons, such as the infamous "I just came from the Canucks dressing room and Pavel's groin has never felt better."

He's been hinting at retiring for almost five years now, but he kept signing on for one more year. I knew this day was coming, but I was hoping he'd get a chance to call the Canucks winning the Stanley Cup. He was there for 33 years of futility, calling both the Canucks appearances in the Finals ("He'll play on crutches!"), but never saw them hoist the Cup.

He will then be replaced by Dave Tomlinson, who is the exact opposite of Tommy in many ways: cynical, dry, and knowledgeable. The Team 1040 broadcasts will be the poorer for it.

Farewell, Tommy. Enjoy your retirement: you've earned it.

Return of Ego the Living Planet

I know Harrison said "back to hockey" in his last post, but the off-season revelations of the extent of LeBron James' ego have been fascinating. The latest development is the posting of an article on ESPN.com by Arash Markazi, who gave a first-person report from inside the over-the-top weekend-long party LeBron was paid to host in Vegas. The article was subsequently removed, but an enterprising fellow saved it in its entirety and uploaded the story for all to enjoy.

Ball Don't Lie covered the highlights of the article, so I won't go too in-depth. Suffice it to say, I endorse the new nickname of Mr. Cool Cakes, though I bemoan the fact that my own new nickname for LeBron, Ego the Living Planet, likely won't catch on.

Here's my favorite part of the festivities:

About a dozen security guards, moving their flash lights, direct us to a roped off section on the dance floor of Tao next to a couple of apparently nude women in a bathtub full of water and rose petals. [...]

Carter, LeBron's' childhood friend and manager, begins dancing around James like Puff Daddy in a Notorious B.I.G video. A giant red crown-shaped cake is brought over to James while go-go dancers dressed in skimpy red and black outfits raise four lettered placards that spell out, "KING." Carter grabs a bottle of Grey Goose and pours a quarter of it on the floor and raises it up before passing it off.

When I think of a Vegas party, it definitely features naked bathtub ladies. Okay, that's not the least bit true. His "manager" dancing around him is incredibly silly and the ridiculous self-promotion of the "KING" placards is a little sad. You can see the bottom of the placards in the picture above.

Best quote from the "king" himself comes in reference to a drink server suspended above the club floor:

"I wish they'd have one of these girls with no panties do that instead of the guy."

Wow. That's unfortunate.

Jimmy Kimmel Asks Kids How Much They Think NBA Players Make

This is from Ball Don't Lie, my favorite basketball blog on the internet, and I'm reposting it because, well, the kid in the green polo shirt is perhaps the best kid ever made. If you are some sort of hypocritical Luddite who can spend time on the computer but not watch Youtube videos, here is what you're missing: Jimmy Kimmel asks kids how much they think NBA players make. Since kids are hilariously underinformed, they guess way low and it's cute. But the kid in the green polo has a world-weariness, a sense of ennui--a self-awareness in regards to his childish ignorance--that makes him seem about a billion years old. It's funny.

Anyway, back to hockey.

Have you seen this paragraph?

No, seriously, have you seen this paragraph? This is Brad Zeimer from the Vancouver Sun, raising an eyebrow at the secrecy around Sami Salo's injury.

Salo has obviously been told not to talk. I called him on his cell phone in Finland on Friday and we had a crystal-clear connection. When he answered, I said, 'Is this Sami?' and he said 'yes.' I said, 'Sami, this is Brad Ziemer from The Sun.' Then Sami suddenly had a hard time hearing me. "Hello, hello, hello," he said, before hanging up.

I find this absolutely hilarious. This is the strangest paragraph written about Sami Salo since that time his testicle exploded, which, come to think of it, wasn't that long ago. What is the deal with this guy? I believe he is insane.

Fun with Letters to the Editor: Blackhawks Whinging Edition

As a subscriber to The Hockey News, I get the digital issues delivered by e-mail before they hit the shelves. A letter in the upcoming August 2nd issue caught my eye. Mr. Scott Saxton of Lasalle, Ontario, has a rather, shall we say, innovative solution the Chicago Blackhawks off-season woes. Follow along with me!

I hate the NHL salary cap. I am not a Blackhawks fan, but what is happening to their club frustrates me as a hockey fan.

Strong words to start off with. The NHL salary cap certainly has its flaws, as has been adequately proven by the Ilya Kovalchuk fiasco of the past couple weeks, but clearly, Mr. Saxton has his eye specifically on the dismantling of the Blackhawks’ Stanley Cup winning roster that has seen Byfuglien, Ladd, Versteeg, and others all shipped out of town.

The NHL should reward greatness and allow it to run its course. The salary cap only serves to dismantle progress and promote athletic communism.

Wait, athletic communism? Clearly we have leapt from the foothills of discourse into the lofty peaks of gross hyperbole. Even in the post-salary-cap NHL there are the haves and the have-nots. And yet, a team like the Nashville Predators continues to perform better than teams with significantly higher payrolls, such as the New York Rangers or Minnesota Wild.

And no one seems to be advocating “From each according to his ability, to each according to his need,” or else we might get some bizarre attempts from second-tier NHL players attempting to establish their need for a comically oversized diamond ring as if they were factory workers in Ayn Rand’s “Atlas Shrugged.”

Why punish the clubs who excel and get it right? Why not reward them?

Yes, let’s reward the Blackhawks for the absurd contracts they gave to Cristobal Huet and Brian Campbell, the ones that necessitated shipping out so many players. Huet, after all, played such an integral part of the ‘Hawks Stanley Cup run, earning every penny of that $5.625 million contract. And those bonus-laden contracts given out to so many of their young stars, giving them a carry-over cap penalty of $4.2 million is completely an example of a team “get[ting] it right.”

Example: the Stanley Cup champion could get an exemption to exceed the salary cap by $5 million during the season of their defense.

You know, like the Blackhawks did last season when they won the Cup, essentially exceeding the cap by $4.2 million in bonuses.

And really, nothing says dynasty like allowing a team an unfair competitive advantage.

This would allow them to re-sign integral parts or even further bolster a championship-caliber team. Don’t think this idea has legs?

This idea has many things, but definitely not legs. Maybe a couple armpits and half a buttcheek.

Well, at least let’s get this conversation going.

Let’s not.

Something must be done.

Something was done. The Chicago Blackhawks fired Dale Tallon.

The NHL is in the entertainment business. Watching a whole slew of middling teams slog it out each spring to see who is the best of a homogenous bunch is not entertaining.

Personally, I appreciate that the salary cap forces teams to get creative with how they build a team. With the salary cap, you can’t just fling contracts indiscriminately at free agents anymore, as if you were building a house by tossing a bunch of bricks in a pile and hoping for the best. Of course, that doesn’t stop some general managers, but building a team in the new NHL requires intelligence, foresight, and a solid plan. Dale Tallon demonstrated none of these things.

We want to see greatness. We want to see champions. The last team standing doesn’t necessarily give us this.

And yet, year after year, the San Jose Sharks have been on top of the Western Conference, the Red Wings have competed for the Stanley Cup, the Washington Capitals have exerted regular season dominance, and the Pittsburgh Penguins keep pissing off the rest of the NHL by being good, allowing for more marketing of Sidney Crosby.

Heck, even the Chicago Blackhawks have managed to keep their top-six forward unit intact this off-season, still have a formidable top-four defensive corps, and are a waive of Huet away from being neatly under the salary cap again.

Again, the reason the Blackhawks have had deal out their Stanley Cup winning team like a deck of cards isn’t because the salary cap is bad for certain values of badness; it’s because Dale Tallon gave out some terrible contracts while he was a GM. Huet was paid $5.625 million to be a backup goalie last season and Campbell was paid $7.14 million to be the third defenceman.

Don’t cry for the Chicago Blackhawks, Scott. They got what they paid for: one year with Lord Stanley. And only one.