Sunday, February 27, 2011

So I'm going to Calgary

So earlier today I had a "I NEED TO GO TO CANADA" meltdown.

It usually involves me falling face first into a pillow and screaming.   All of this is found highly entertaining by others as I haven't been to Canada since I was five and I only remember dolphins. Now why I associate Canada with dolphins is beyond me, but I do.  And I've always wanted to go back.  Except now I've found something better than dolphins that Canada supposedly has. I call them up and ask them if it's true:
I basically got this in reply:
So I tried harder:
And that is how I found a way into Canada for a week.  Well, not exactly.  But it's pretty close.

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Maxime Tanguay Made Me Sick


Today is the first day I've been conscious enough to sit up after four days of illness.  Four days of high fever, so much so I began to hallucinate that my cats had wings, four days of the worst head and neck pain, four days of vomiting, four days of near comatose weakness that resulted in having to be carried around like a baby.

And I blame Max.  Mostly because it is far more appealing to blame the worst illness I have ever experienced on my recent chat with that handsome man up there who was terribly ill himself at the time than on the more-likely 7000 drunk non-hand-washing fans I was also exposed to for four days last week at the rink. 

Thus, Mr. Maxime Tanguay I was very nearly hospitalized because of you and I'll have you know you can't just go around making people sick without at least offering to buy them dinner first.

That said...Max, get better soon.  You are missed.

Monday, February 21, 2011

A Week to Remember for All of the Right and Wrong Reasons

I said here, just a few days ago, that the thing I loved most about hockey was its ability to take me by surprise week in and week out without fail.  This remains true following one of the curiouser homestands I've witnessed with my Grizzlies.

At the start of what I had deemed "hell week" before it had even begun (in hindsight, not the most serendipitous name to have given it),  I was thrilled with the prospect of the return of Paul Crowder who had impressed me months earlier and Chris Donovan whose presence on the ice I had sorely missed for a near month, there was also the temporary promotion of Simon to captaincy, concern over seeing Riley and Maxime on IR (injury reserve), and the elevation of Nick Tuzzolino to the Portland Pirates (AHL).  The loss of Jake, Nick, Riley, and Maxime had already concerned and piqued my interest as to just what coach was going to have in store for us line-wise.   Just how would he manage the loss of a captain, his best defenseman, his enforcer, and his newest offensive potential?

Tuesday night, the answer was not what any of us wanted to hear.  It seemed the team itself was as baffled as I was by some of the combinations that were made.  Behind the lens, I could see that at least half of the team seemed lost in thought and communication frequently weak or nonexistent especially in the final third where both Simon and Engy's (Andrew Engelage) frustration rose notch by notch as their team which had had all of the momentum only minutes before abruptly fell apart around them in an undisciplined mess.

Wes Goldie, the ECHL's top goal scorer at the time took advantage of the lack of defense surrounding Engelage and shifted the momentum away from a hard fought tie.  Nevertheless, the only real strangeness on this particular night was the lack of passion, especially in a third period that had been theirs to own (the Grizzlies this year have never been a particularly disciplined sort, but passion, both good and bad, they have almost always had in spades).  Simon's posture leaving the ice spoke volumes about what he thought of the night.  He's an expressive man, and unapologetically so, and one can read his opinion of a play or a person or a game in the way he shifts his weight forward or to the side. On this particular night, rather than bending low to the ground as if to shut out the lights and the crowd and listen to his own self think as he usually does when he is disappointed, tonight he leaned back frequently, shoulders squared, knuckles white around the stick, his gaze pointed hard in the direction of certain individuals. I shrugged off the loss as the boys having an off day, an inexcusable off day, but an off day nonetheless and assumed Simon would bitch, Coach would bitch, and Wednesday night would be better.

Removing the lens cap and propping up the camera to the hole in the glass twenty hours later, I was happy to discover Maxime Tanguay laced up and on the ice again.  He's such a beautiful skater to photograph that I couldn't help but smile as he slingshot around the goal, streamlined and low to the ice as usual, early in the game.


Max is one of those players that when he rushes by the press corner he sends a blast of cold air through the slats of the glass.  He's thrilling to watch, quiet and focused, fearlessly threading himself through the pack of players, or patiently biding his time anticipating the next play.  He's not expressive in  Simon's infamous manner, voicing opinions with so little reserve the very words can be read off of his lips,  but rather it is a slight squinting of the eye, a sudden smile or a clouded expression, a set jaw, a small trickle of sweat he doesn't bother to brush away from his brow that tells you whatever it is he wants you to know about him.

Tonight his message was clear, and my alarm rose the moment I saw it.  Pushing a puck deep behind the goal, the new sweater on his back afforded him no kindness from the Aces as his head was pinched hard between the glass and the heavy wall-like shoulder of a former teammate inches from my lens.  It was a split second, but the hardworking Max who had been holding his own up until this point, suddenly winced, and the expression ran deeper than a simple that hurt.  The abrupt contortion of pain that rippled through him said rather, I am hurt. It doesn't matter that pain such as I saw is within hockey's job description, it was heartbreaking to witness.

That moment was probably the moment I remember best of what was an otherwise terrible game, though there were many other things that took place worthy of mention.  Perhaps it is that it summed up the best that is in many of these players.  A desire to see and smell and work the ice, even when seeing and smelling it demands a pound of flesh as payment for the privilege.  It is a work ethic that necessitates a quiet nod of respect, a tip of the hat, a withholding of the camera click as a second later he recovers, determined to finish his shift, finish his game.   Later, as the disappointed crowd filed out of the aisles, dribbling down the stairs to the streets below like a slow cold rain, Maxime admitted to me how poorly he felt he played.  I respect that he expects more of himself, I admire it, but, Max, love, give yourself some credit.  The fact is this young player showed up for his severely undermanned team even when it was apparent all was not well with him. 

After a day and a night off sans hockey, I arrived bright and early at the rink Friday night to discover not my beloved Engy skating out like a giant swaying tree to his home between the goalposts


but Marc Rinfret making only his third professional hockey start.

Hockey is a sport with far more in common with horseracing, I think, than any other sport especially at the ECHL level where players you love can disappear at any given time due to injury or due to, as in Engy's case this week, receiving a well deserved call up to the AHL.   As much affection as I have for new guy "Socks" (our nickname for Marc Rinfret), seeing him skate out instead of Engelage hit me with the same level of force as Maxime had experienced physically two nights earlier, and left me with as pinched an expression as well.   I have always loved and believed in JP's backup, watching him play was the best sort of show, and only recently, in his last game with us had Andrew stopped in front of my glass turned and smiled at me.  I was so surprised by his sudden recognition and happy wave that I never took the shot and can recall it now only in memory.  I am going to miss him, but I am very proud of him as I have always been and am so happy to see him playing again at home in Toronto (with the Marlies) on his way to becoming, I have no doubt, the first decent Leaf goalie in recent times.

The night and week of losses continued on as I witnessed a goal that was never declared.  They even asked my opinion and I told them what the entire crowd was insisting. There was, at least from my vantage point, a goal.    Before, Brett Parnham's skate caught on opposing Las Vegas goalie Mikey Ouzas' equipment during the second period and he collapsed to the ice.  I watched, frozen with concern, as one of our most talented goal scorers tried, and was unable, to stand on his own as the medics rushed out to the ice and assessed his condition.   It's always an inspirational moment in any sport to see a team link arms around the shoulders of one of their own fallen and Friday included one of those.  Through the glass, I saw Brian Kilburg, a soft look in his eye, skate to Parnham's right side and with an encouraging smile cheer and lift his teammate back up to his feet.

It was such a meaningful moment that I broke my own rule and took the above shot, and I think I love them both a little more now.  I have since seen Brett Parnham, in crutches, but looking otherwise well and spoken with him. I can't wait to see him fully recovered and back on the ice being his amazing, talented self once more.

Saturday saw the losses continue into a fourth straight game as I was surprised again to see the third different goalie in as many games take to the ice.   Tamio Stehrenberger received a phone call early Saturday morning informing him of an emergency call to the net of the Utah Grizzlies. Tamio, who last guarded the net for BYU College in his younger days is somewhat the backup goalie of backup goalies.  

And he actually did a remarkable job.  It was touching to watch time-and-time again the boys swing by to give him an encouraging and respectful tap of the stick against his legs.

Only in the last minute of the game, with seconds ticking by, the entire crowd already anticipating overtime, Tamio made an excellent save that was abruptly put back into play and found itself over his shoulder only seconds later. I think Tamio was as surprised by it as we all were.

In the end, it was a week and weekend to remember for all of the right and wrong reasons.  There was loss and, yet, triumph in it.  There were those who did not pull their weight, and those who pulled for themselves and for others.  If the boys stop and consider all things, giving them their proper perspective they'll see, as I do, that they are more a team now than ever losses notwithstanding.  They are a young team with a lot to learn; the most important of which is appreciating what they get to do for a living, who they get to do it with, and who they do it for. 

Thursday, February 17, 2011

All the Small Things

I average about a thousand photos per game that I sort through during the days they are off.  It's something I really enjoy doing because the photographs slow the game down to frame-by-frame, moment-to-moment. I notice things I didn't and couldn't notice when the game took place.   Habits. Personalities. Slights. Hilarity.  Pain.

After several thousand shots I notice that Simon's mouth is constantly moving whereas his roommate Maxime talks almost entirely through his eyes. Kevin Deeth plays nonstop with his mouth guard, a nervous, worried expression always present.  Tim Crowder sticks his mouth guard nonchalantly out of the left side of his mouth.  Chris Donovan has his, with a calculating glare in his eye, on the right.  Brian Kilburg is always smiling, even when he's asking another man to fight.   Brendan Milnamow is the "King of the Spray-of-Ice" with his abrupt sharp turns and stops, moving about like a cutting horse. Andrew Engelage will take a swig of water when he's frustrated, he slaps the ice back and forth and/or the goalposts with his stick when he's furious.  If he's pissed, the green gatorade water bottle will go sailing through the air halfway across the rink. He also has a frequently itchy nose he cannot scratch. Brock Wilson is a man of almost-as-many-expressions-as-Simon, but when things go awry, he simply shakes his head.  Brett Parnham has only one expression: intense concentration.

I noticed the pain on Maxime's face when his head was slammed hard against the glass by a giant of a defenseman who was once his own teammate.  I'll notice the glee in Giffen Nyren's eyes when he successfully downs an opposing player and the predatory look in Marcus Carroll's as he seeks to steal the puck from the man he is chasing down the boards.   As Simon skates by after failing to make the goal that was entirely his to make, I see the heartache in the bruised color of his eyes, one ear turned to the crowd booing him, another turned to his own whispered curses, curses meant, from the look on his face and in his posture...shoulders curled downward, only for himself.  I could have, I should have, I didn't, he says to the lens. 

I notice other things too.  Things about the opposing team.  I notice that the Alaska Aces goaltender, Coleman, seems to sing to himself when he's all alone.  He slaps the ice with his stick when one of his teammates is seconds from exiting the penalty box.  He fell to his knees and mouthed the word "fuck", face turned to the sky, cursing to no one in particular, when he failed to stand up to a charging Matt Clarke.  I notice Howe's quiet conversations with Simon...and the even quieter conversations between Maxime and his former family,  between Tyler and the Grizzlies he also once called brothers. 

I can see the passion or the lack of it.  I can see the blood, the piece of skin missing from a knuckle, the sweat soaked hair curling at the back of their neck.   I see the penalty that was never called.  The insult and the reply.  I see what others do...the smallest man on the team dropping his gloves against a much larger opponent...but only through the lens do I see that the fight took place not because Kevin was targeted...but because his captain, a man who has defended him in the past, was.

I look at these photos and it's like picking up the epic of Beowulf and wondering if I'll ever truly understand its meaning because it was created by a world to which I do not fully belong.  Even with study, I feel as though I have only scratched at the surface of something that runs much deeper.  People ask me why I love hockey.  Why I think it's the best sport (aside from horseracing) that there is.

This is the answer.  Hockey is like a great lover.  The best always surprise you. You can spend a lifetime with them and never feel you have touched the bottom of the ocean.  They have profound depth.  That is why I love hockey.  It is why I probably always will. Because I will never fully understand it...and I will never stop wishing I did.

Monday, February 14, 2011

Oh Captain My Captain

With Jake Gannon called up to the AHL for the third time this year, guess who got the big C on his chest?

GUESS.
....
.....


I AM SO TAKING PICTURES OF THIS.  MY HANDSOME DEVIL HAS A "C".

Friday, February 11, 2011

Because we are awesome.

After spending a long miserable night in the throes of death-flu, there are few things that can improve the resulting morning.  Nevertheless, one of those few and precious things is hockey and, fortunately for your Penny, hockey arrived bright and early in the form of not only a fifth-straight 3-2 victory against the ECHL-leading Las Vegas Wranglers...but this:
That, my friends, is Simon Sunshine.  Frequently sighted since Simon Ferguson joined the Utah Grizzlies, Simon Sunshine is a remarkable phenomenon that involves waking-up-to-discover-primary-love-booger-Simon-Ferguson-nearly-scored-another-hat-trick-in-the-game-you-missed-last-night-due-to-death-flu.   The first of the night came in the last three seconds of a power play in a gorgeous  classic Simon-wrap-around assisted by none other than the absurdly cool and talented duo Nick Tuzzolino and Kevin Deeth.  (Simon-Nick-Kevin is amazing combo of amazingness, and I know that's not the most intellectual way of putting that fact, but it is honestly the best I can do while recovering from flu.) Simon did it again just ten seconds into the second period with what was undoubtedly a hot assist by the also ridiculously talented and rapidly improving Brett Parnham.  While the boys did everything they could to give Simon a chance for that hat trick the last ninety seconds of the game, he had to settle for two.   Nevertheless, that makes 15 goals this season for 1pen's Love Booger Number One.

Still in the ranks of completely and utterly fantastic is Tom May who picked up the final goal for Utah last night during a penalty shot and improved his numbers to eleven goals this season (and his EIGHTH goal in the last ten games....yes, that's right: *O&&^$&*^$(&$($.) See...I am not kidding you...best freaking ECHL team there is...

And, of course, no post of fangirly flailing would be complete without mention of Engelage.  Come on. This is ANDREW ENGELAGE.  You didn't think he was completely absent from the mood-improving morning news, did you? DID YOU?  That boy stopped 21 of 23 shots and he did it in fantastic ENGY fashion....in other words, he did it with style. STYLE.  

And last but not least.  Guess what?  Guess what? Guess what?  Go on.  Guess.

PAUL CROWDER IS BACK.  ewvjbwevbuwpieubvpwieuvbwpivub.

YES MORNING SUNSHINE YES HOCKEY YOU ARE THE BEST MEDICINE THERE IS.

Brendan Milnamow loves Blueberry Bagels

Meet Brendan:


Despite the ~*serious*~ look on that face, the Brendan Milnamow I was lucky to meet last week (and the Grizzlies lucky to trade for and work with now) has a lop-sided smile to put anyone at ease. 

Mid January we finally closed our deal with the Bakersfield Condors who had collected our Brad Snetsinger in mid December (and who has done well there).   I recall being very irritated with this trade back then and made my opinions known to a few in the Grizzlies management who assured me we were getting someone "very very good." 

They weren't kidding.

I saw Brendan's debut with us and have to say that I was instantly impressed.  Foremost? Because of the chemistry.  Part of that is because the team itself made a sincere and heartwarming effort from the very beginning to welcome Brendan to the family.   While discussing his recent move to Utah to join the Grizzlies, Brendan himself recounted his introduction:

"The moment I came into the locker room for the first time, they all just stood up, came over, shook my hand, and made me feel like family. It was great. I've never known a team like this.  They are great guys, this is a great team and a great city, and I feel fortunate."
The other part is that Brendan has the kind of personality and game where if you can't get along with him then something is wrong with YOU.  Brendan meshes well, and it doesn't matter a whole lot where you stick him either...Crowder, Parnham, May....he's going to work hard.   This guy plays straight hockey, and you can't miss him for the spray of ice showering the glass as he stops the puck from getting any further down the boards.  

 After the game, Brendan and I discussed the pure fruity joy that is a blueberry bagel, how much he would love to own a BMW, and how he'd love to play for the New York Rangers.  He is a patient look-you-in-the-eye listener who smiles and laughs freely. Being in his company is refreshing; he doesn't just take the time to talk to you...he takes the time to talk to you like he's known you all his life, and shows up when you ask him to.  In other words, he's the perfect addition to a classy team and I am thrilled.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Engy Rules the Week (you know, AGAIN)


Congratulations are in order for primary Utah Grizzlies goaltender, Andrew Engelage (32)!!!!!  For the second time in about a month, Andrew was acknowledged as the ECHL's Goalie of the Week!


Those who know me well know that I was a fan of Andrew back when he was Jean-Philippe (Lamoureux)'s backup.   I mean no disrespect to JP who is a remarkable goalie himself (AHL backup goalie now for the Abbortsford Heat), but for me, as a fan, I believed Andrew was better and I can't even begin to express my absolute delight to see Engy get the solid ice time and recognition he deserves.   We are so fortunate to have him.  Congratulations again, Andrew!


Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Replies from the Guys

Replies from the Guys
Check back monthly for updates!!!


February 7, 2011 - Above. From Brock Wilson (25) to youareahockeyfan reader, Namiko, for her fan art. 


February 7, 2011 - Above. From Matt Sorteberg (17) to youarehockeyfan reader, Therese, for her fan art.



April 15, 2011 - Above.  From Brock Wilson (25) to youareahockeyfan reader, Namiko, for being one of his biggest fans all season.

THEY SANG THE TEAPOT SONG


Does this need explaining?  No.  I don't think it does.

And they weren't even drunk. LOVE THEM.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Marcus Carroll used to like Waffles.

Earlier this week I had the opportunity to talk to Marcus Carroll (8) and I totally bombed it.  Marcus was so open, relaxed, classy, funny, and sweet that he actually managed to render me speechless.  Those who know me and were with us at the time couldn't believe that I...the 1pen... capable of charming prime ministers and dictators into lunch (true stories, btw, I really have)...simply blanked.  But I did. It's the truth.


Marcus Carroll silenced the 1pen with his genuine kindness.   I've said it before, but I'll say it again - the Utah Grizzlies are the classiest group of hockey players you could ever hope for.  They may lead the league in penalty minutes on the ice, but that should never be confused with their character off of it.  Frequently seen mouthing off (though not at the level of the infamous talker Simon Ferguson) and no stranger to the penalty box, one might think twice about trading words with Marcus Carroll off of the ice, and yet, I can assure you...Marcus is nicest-dude-ever.  

As bewildered by my silence as I was, Marcus went ahead and doodled on my jersey.  He did his best to work through my blank and offered up little tidbits I will share with you now. 

As always, it's breakfast to the rescue.  I was surprised to learn from Marcus that he once loved waffles... until the Great Waffle-Throwing Incident of 2010 in which a disgruntled fan began throwing frozen waffles at the Toronto Maple Leaf players as they skated by during a game against the Philadelphia Flyers (no one was harmed).   

What do we learn from this nugget of information offered by the darling Marcus?

1. Marcus no longer likes waffles.

and

2.  Marcus is a fan of the LEAFS?!!!

Don't worry, Marcus, we still love you.  Sort of.

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

The Importance of Being A NOT-BLIND REF

Probably one of the more interesting home stands I've ever witnessed occurred last January when the Stockton Thunder came to town.  Not the best.  I said the most "interesting". 

There is a long and storied history of bruised bodies and bruised egos between the Stockton Thunder and the Utah Grizzlies.  Historically, the Grizzlies are the only ones to consistently get the better of them...and the Thunder have never appreciated that. Their last meeting prior to the January 14-17 stand back in December had 120 penalty minutes combined and plenty of dropped gloves.  In November? Nick Tuzzolino dropped his a mere two seconds into the game against them.  Utah has more penalty minutes in games against the Thunder than at any other team.

The weekend of the 14-17th saw many of our best players injured and off of the ice. Simon Ferguson, Brock Wilson, and Grizzlies Captain Jake Gannon most notably.   Both Simon and Brock were lost during the Friday night game against the Thunder,  causing us to lose them again for the Saturday game (and the following Monday)

On Saturday, January 15, I brought a group of people who had never witnessed hockey before to what I was sure would be a thrilling game between Utah and their most hated nemesis.  In this party were two young boys who had heard hockey was a violent game with no rhyme or reason.  I informed them during much of the pregame warm-ups about the history involved between these two teams and to be mindful of the disrespect the Thunder had demonstrated the previous night.

When the starting lineup was announced a small hush fell on the crowd among season ticket holders; those who understood immediately what those names meant.  Emmerson.  Kilburg. Tuzzolino. Deeth. Shulz.

Emmerson....enforcer of doom.  Kilburg...backup enforcer of doom.  Shulz....fearless defenseman of doom.  Tuzzolino...wicked tall and fearless assistant captain of doom.  Deeth...the Lionheart (of doom).

We knew what was about to take place...and yet even I was stunned by the scale of it.  Two seconds into the game all hell broke loose:


The young boys in the party with us had eyes as wide as dinner plates as gloves flew off in a shower of sticks and fists that spilled over into the visitor's bench...our own coach standing on the bench to get a better look and to cheer his boys.

Part of the problem with this particular weekend of note was the presence of the incredibly inept referee Rick Looker who could not keep up with the boys on the ice and who missed, time and time again, infractions against (to be fair again) both teams that forced the boys to police the ice themselves.  Which they did.

We highsticked them. They highsticked back.  They slashed us. We slashed right back.  Cross-checking? yep.  Tripping. Hooking.  Unsportsmanlike conduct.

Four more times in the evening the gloves were dropped.




To be fair, both the Thunder and the Grizzlies are solid teams that should never be underestimated...they have considerable size and weight and provocations are not overlooked.  No referee lacking ANYTHING should ever ever ever be allowed to officiate a game between these two.


Alas, we got Rick Looker.


The mess that was Saturday, January 15th resulted in one of the best coach meltdowns I've ever witnessed.  A meltdown that NEEDED to happen and that resulted in a standing ovation:


 As for the young boys I brought with me....very very long talk about the law of retribution in hockey...and how important it is for a referee to police...because when he doesn't uphold the law...the players will.

FINALLY SURFACED: Riley Emmerson vs. Brad MacMillan




On January 19, 2011 in an away game against the Idaho Steelheads, Utah "enforcer" Riley Emmerson squared off with Brad MacMillan who had been recruited by Idaho specifically to intimidate Riley who has, understandably (as you are about to see), the most feared pair of fists in the ECHL. 

Have a look: