This is not big hockey news in the Drew Doughty can actually skate besides his physical appearance form of big hockey news. This is big hockey news in the way that the plot of the movie 2012 re-shaped the world’s tectonic plates.
If Shane Doan leaves the Coyotes, it will end the reign of the hockey world’s holiest king.
The shock waves will be felt in Winnipeg, seeing as Doan is the only remaining remnant from the days of that franchise, the original Winnipeg Jets. This is “Mike and Ike breakup”-style stuff. If those two aren’t together, it really isn’t the same candy, is it?
Listen, don’t try and guilt trip Shane. You won’t meet a nicer guy (which I know because I’ve met him), and you couldn’t concoct a finer mix of humanity and loyalty in an athlete. You know in A New Hope, when Obi Wan says, “You’ll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy”? Shane’s the opposite of that.
Maybe he just wants to win?
And, after watching them limp out of last year’s playoffs with little help from anyone – after going the farthest that franchise has gone in a season in over 30 years in both Manitoba and the American Desert – maybe Mr. Doan has realized now what the rest of us already did…
The Phoenix Coyotes will never win the Stanley Cup.
We don’t mind saying it to you. It’s just our opinion. Some folks probably laughed seeing Jonathan Quick drop three F-bombs during his “speech” (if you can call it that) at the Staples Center. Some probably just shook their head or buried it in the sand. It seemed like the Los Angeles Kings were even a little torn, with a few laughing and few looking like they were trying to fast forward it with their minds.
The folks at KCAL 9 didn’t seem too amused. A couple of our commentators yesterday didn’t either, and they were the first to officially use “classless” as the event’s defining adjective on our site.
“He shoud have known that he was on TV, jeez how classless, its a different story if it was off screen,” said one.
“There’s a proud moment his daughter can watch over and over as she grows up. And for all you future NHL players it’s ok to get drunk and act like a complete ass when you win the Stanley Cup,” said another.
Obviously, athletes can get drunk, and I’m sure Quickie wasn’t the only one who was hammered for his celebration. We don’t care about the drinking. It’s the booze and the F-bombs. And then, when he hears some laughter, he keeps going.
All in all, pretty cringe-worthy.
We did like seeing him back up David Beckham, though. Oh yea, and he says, “sh*t-stomped” here, too:
First of all, we’re not in the business of guessing or slandering. But, I mean, watch and judge for yourself. The Kings goaltender and Conny Smythe Winner drops three F-bombs during his celebratory speech, and the crowd goes wild. That makes you think you’re either in a select part of Los Angeles or Abbotsford, B.C.
Then, he kind of half-mumbles his way through some words. We can’t tell if it’s his American(ish) accent or what it might be, and he wouldn’t be the first athlete to be bombed during his speech. Still, it might be the most memorable.
Obviously, we imagine Doughty was laughing pretty good.
If we told you that sports journalism is far more shameful now than it’s ever been, you shouldn’t be surprised. So, when we see videos and photos of the New Jersey Devils “celebrating” a Game 6 loss and a Stanley Cup failure, it’s hard to feel good about the state of the media today.
(*Deadspin published them today, but they were actually re-published from folks on YouTube and the Unholy Crapdom known as TMZ. It should be noted that Deadspin actually criticized anybody who were criticizing the Devils for partying their faces off. A rightful opinion.
If you want to watch the videos, go there. We don’t feel like sullying the Devs’ and posting them on this website.)
The videos show the Devils leaving a club, hopping on a party bus, walking into parking meters, snapping up women, and just having an all-around good time. Hey, when in Rome, right? Or, Hollywood. Some of them are married, perhaps (we hear), but whatever. We don’t know them, or their wives, and we’re not surprised that men or women sometimes cheat on their spouses.
(Is that okay to say?)
After all, it is Hollywood. Folks there do far worse, and the Devils deserved to let off some steam. How do you feel on Friday when you finish work? Wouldn’t you love to get drunk and laid? Now, remember that these guys have spent the last 10 months abusing their bodies and they can afford to let loose properly. You work in a cubicle (or a toilet stall) and you think you need a night off.
The videos bring to light the always-newsworthy question of what is appropriate and what is too far. While actors, singers, and models strive for a life that is owned by the spotlight and, therefore, warrants a certain level of obsession from paparazzi and the mob that craves their products, athletes don’t all wish for this kind of treatment or exposure.
Hockey players certainly don’t. Well, some do, but not all. They grow up watching Hockey Night in Canada like it’s the Super Bowl, and the only rings they ever think of wearing are the ones they might someday win.
Sure, sports journalists have always been scathing and harsh, and they have often come to blows with their subjects who they have a professional duty to question and critique. That’s one part of the business, and hopefully that never changes.
But, there is another side to this coin, which is, “Should sports journalism become a paparazzi?” Is it really necessary to publish videos of married hockey players climbing into cabs with random women? Is it really the job of a sports journalist (and that J Word is losing its relevance by the day) to embarrass their subjects, especially when the Devils had no desire to flaunt their actions to anyone?
You can say that the media has always been like this, but there used to be some secrecy and confidentiality to the job, and players and writers used to belong to the same fraternity.
Take this quote from Jane Leavy, who wrote the book The Last Boy about Mickey Mantle:
“Bob Costas was the first and most prominent baseball sage to counsel me not to write another biography of The Mick. Throughout the five years it took to write the book, I heard Bob’s reasoned caution: Everything’s been said. So why say it again knowing it will bring pain to his loved ones and everyone else who loves him?”
That makes a lot of sense to me, and Mantle had already been dead for a while. Imagine what it must feel like to be a Devil, when you’ve got plenty of living ahead of you.
My guess is you’re not feeling the love.
So, where do we go from here? Game over, man? Can the Los Angeles Kings ever lose?
In a playoff year punctuated by boredom and defensive hockey, it was the Kings who emerged at the other end, barely scathed by their competition. At no time in this playoff run did they look out of control, or desperate, or panicked.
At no time did they look like an eighth seed. Because, of course, they weren’t really an eighth seed.
At no time did Darryl Sutter look upset, even when he tried to make us believe he was. Mike Richards never came close to his evil twin, the one that delivers head shot or runs guys into the boards. Dustin Brown combined the hardest shoulders in the league with a newfound ability to pump pucks past tenders. Dustin Penner and Jeff Carter were slightly useful.
Jonathan Quick was a God.
Sure, the New Jersey Devils stole two games in between the Kings four-win set. Of course, it’s not something to brag about, is it? “Hey, we were the only ones to beat them in our own barn!” That doesn’t sound like you’re taking the pi*s out of someone. It sounds like you’re just saying, “They weren’t as perfect as you think they were.”
Fair enough. I think the Kings will take it.
At the end of a long, gruelling eight months, the Kings became what every other city feared they were: a contender.
We knew they had it in them, but we hoped the beast would stay dormant.
It didn’t. And, now, we have to wonder whether it can ever be contained again. It’s a scary thing, letting your competition up off the mat. They have a tendency to remain there. Look how long it took for someone to chop down the mighty NFL redwood known as the New England Patriots, and their first Super Bowl in 2001 was (perhaps) more shocking than this Los Angeles Stanley Cup.
The Canucks, Sharks, and Flyers have all wasted decent opportunities to hoist their sport’s only real trophy, while the Kings have stolen the gold and doubloons from under their heels and spurs.
Say goodbye to the NHL you thought you knew. We can’t go back now.
Anyway… congratulations, Los Angeles.
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