August 2008 Archives
Dear Readers,
After spending too long in the hockey wilderness trying to convert the heathens to Leafism, I have given up the fight and decided to return to the homeland. You know, God's Country. The pride of Canada. The glorious centre of the hockey universe. Toronto.
That's right. Me and my lady friend Eve Styzerman have packed all of our nick-knacks and Richard Griffin voodoo dolls into our little car and will begin making our way back home this morning. I'll be away for a few weeks, since we've chosen to take our time exploring the vast uncharted tundra that lies between the Pacific Ocean and Thunder Bay.
I'm not sure if there are any internets or even computers in the areas we'll be travelling (Saskatchewan, Manitoba) which means that it will be at least a fortnight before I post again. I also won't be able to approve any of your comments, so if anyone feels the need to express how much they miss my bitter and angry ramblings, feel free to leave these comments on any of the ten to twelve posts that Godd Till will be putting up in the next couple weeks.
Moving back to the beating heart of or country will be a blessing for Coxbloc and our readers as we'll now have easier access to a deeper pool of idiots as I can once again listen to the FAN 590 and AM 640 while raging against the stupidity of every other driver in the world as I sit in the many wonderful traffic jams that Toronto has to offer. It's true. Traffic jams are better in Ontario. It is way more relaxing when you're staring at a Go Leafs bumper sticker on the car in front of you while listening to Bob McCown than it is when you're stuck behind short buses full of Canucks fans listening to Total Pratt and Taylor.
It is also a known fact that while most traffic problems in Toronto are caused by important people on their way to important places to do important things, the majority of gridlock in Vancouver occurs because a bunch of bewildered locals have wandered into the street, staring in fear and wonder at the sun. The rest of the rarely-moving, bumper to bumper shitshow on the streets of Vanvouver is the result of the city hurriedly trying to build all of the stadiums, train-lines, whorehouses and casinos that are required of an Olympic host city.
It hasn't been a total waste of time living out here, as I have learned to important lessons:
1. The sports reporters and columnists in Toronto, as much grief as we give them, are a million times better than the collection of fanboys and halfwits that cover the Vancouver sports teams.
2. Canucks fans spend as much time and energy hating the Leafs as we do not giving a shit about them. It is sad.
We've cited a number of criteria for our return home, ranging from family to weather to our previously mentioned dislike of the local traffic, but there is one overarching reason for why we are getting the hell out of Vancouver: After two years of relative safety, I once again have to worry that Kyle Wellwood might find me and eat me. Be safe Godd, be safe.
Cheers,
Kim
After spending too long in the hockey wilderness trying to convert the heathens to Leafism, I have given up the fight and decided to return to the homeland. You know, God's Country. The pride of Canada. The glorious centre of the hockey universe. Toronto.
That's right. Me and my lady friend Eve Styzerman have packed all of our nick-knacks and Richard Griffin voodoo dolls into our little car and will begin making our way back home this morning. I'll be away for a few weeks, since we've chosen to take our time exploring the vast uncharted tundra that lies between the Pacific Ocean and Thunder Bay.
I'm not sure if there are any internets or even computers in the areas we'll be travelling (Saskatchewan, Manitoba) which means that it will be at least a fortnight before I post again. I also won't be able to approve any of your comments, so if anyone feels the need to express how much they miss my bitter and angry ramblings, feel free to leave these comments on any of the ten to twelve posts that Godd Till will be putting up in the next couple weeks.
Moving back to the beating heart of or country will be a blessing for Coxbloc and our readers as we'll now have easier access to a deeper pool of idiots as I can once again listen to the FAN 590 and AM 640 while raging against the stupidity of every other driver in the world as I sit in the many wonderful traffic jams that Toronto has to offer. It's true. Traffic jams are better in Ontario. It is way more relaxing when you're staring at a Go Leafs bumper sticker on the car in front of you while listening to Bob McCown than it is when you're stuck behind short buses full of Canucks fans listening to Total Pratt and Taylor.
It is also a known fact that while most traffic problems in Toronto are caused by important people on their way to important places to do important things, the majority of gridlock in Vancouver occurs because a bunch of bewildered locals have wandered into the street, staring in fear and wonder at the sun. The rest of the rarely-moving, bumper to bumper shitshow on the streets of Vanvouver is the result of the city hurriedly trying to build all of the stadiums, train-lines, whorehouses and casinos that are required of an Olympic host city.
It hasn't been a total waste of time living out here, as I have learned to important lessons:
1. The sports reporters and columnists in Toronto, as much grief as we give them, are a million times better than the collection of fanboys and halfwits that cover the Vancouver sports teams.
2. Canucks fans spend as much time and energy hating the Leafs as we do not giving a shit about them. It is sad.
We've cited a number of criteria for our return home, ranging from family to weather to our previously mentioned dislike of the local traffic, but there is one overarching reason for why we are getting the hell out of Vancouver: After two years of relative safety, I once again have to worry that Kyle Wellwood might find me and eat me. Be safe Godd, be safe.
Cheers,
Kim
Godd: So Kim...
Kim: What up Till?
Godd: We've gotta give them what they want.
Kim: What's that G?
Godd: Well, Christie Blatchford wrote this batshit insane column where she tells bloggers to get off her lawn and compares Rosie DiManno to a highly trained surgeon. We've gotta break 'em off something.
Kim: Hell yeah
Godd: And it's gotta be bumpin!
Kim: CITY OF COMPTON!
Godd: Huh?
Kim: What?
Godd: Alright. Lets get to the crazy:
BEIJING -- The unofficial end to journalism as I know it may have come earlier this week, when my Globe and Mail sporty colleague Matt Sekeres and I were at the triathlon venue in the north end of the city, waiting for the event to start.Kim: Shit dude. These Olympics have got everything: Michael Phelps, that Paraguayan javelin lady, Usain Bolt, and, apparently, the Journopocalypse.
Godd: I prefer Armediageddon.
The race was about an hour away when young Mr. Sekeres said the five words I have most come to dread: "I'm going to blog this." And he did - and on the 18th day of the eighth month in the year 2008, so it must be a lucky omen.
Kim: I thought the five words Christie would most dread would be "Al Strachan is coming over."
Godd: No, it's later when he says '"I had another couch accident."
Kim: How about "Police guilty in brutality case."
Godd: "Dead child expected to recover."
It was posted on The Globe's Games Blog at 10:23 a.m., Beijing time. Mr. Sekeres wrote three paragraphs about the excellent weather, the setting and that soon he and I would be heading down to the race course. The headline read, "Under Thatch with Blatch."
Godd: That sounds fucking horrible.
Kim: Tell me about it. I always imagined that a day out with Christie Blatchford would involve spending a few hours ghoulishly circling the corpses of dead children like a vulture.
I'm not sure if my hair burst into flames, but I wanted to burn something down.
Mr. Sekeres is a fine writer and engaging company. This isn't about him. He was merely doing what everyone - from paid professional writer to Olympian to the average guy in the stands - does now. He was committing his most idle thoughts and mundane observations if not to paper, then to its modern equivalent, a blog.
Kim: Hmmm. Idle thoughts...mundane observations...throw in some mash-notes to the troops and fawning over cops and you've got a Christie Blatchford column.
It is the modern way, but at the blogging Olympics - and these are the blogging Games, as Sydney marked the first all-out Web Games - with 20,000 journalists in the same approximate place, it is impossible to overlook the phenomenon and difficult not to participate. Let us now conjugate blog: I blog, I have blogged, I will blog.
Or rather, after a few desultory efforts in the early going here, let me say that I shall not blog. It is not because I take a principled stand against blogging. It's not that I don't love the Web. It's not that I'm a Luddite, or at least not just that I'm a Luddite.
It's that, as Michael Farber, the great Montreal sportswriter and Hockey Hall of Famer who works for Sports Illustrated, said the other day on a bus, "I have only a finite number of words in me." He is guarding what's left, properly determined not to squander them.
Godd: Really? Only a finite number of words in you? So each homerrific Habs piece from Farber or 5,000 word eyeglazer on your latest pedicure brings us one step closer to the magical day where, out of words, you two flop around like fish on a beach, able to communicate only in pictograms and the arrangement of small rocks? Righteous.
The Internet has completely changed the way reporters do business. That much we know.
A Canadian Press colleague saw me in a scrum the other day with my notebook out; he was stricken with nostalgia. "I can't remember the last time I used a notebook," he said. "It's all video now."
Godd: Oh, for the halcyon days of notebooks, typewriters, lovable scamps mining for coal and having our teeth pulled with no anaesthetic.
Since arriving in Beijing, the workhorses of Team Globe here - the sportswriters - have filed 24/7 to the website, blogged, done "podcasts" (I did, too, but haven't a clue what it was), and, oh yes, written for the actual newspaper, which is trickier than it might seem given that the 12-hour time difference means there is usually almost no news element to the stories we write for the paper.
It's the same for everyone.
Michael Phelps's last swim, as with all swim finals thanks to NBC, took place in the morning here, prime time back home. It meant that most Canadian papers could just barely squeak into the next day's editions the news of his record eighth gold. Rosie DiManno of the Toronto Star was poolside; she had five whole minutes to write and file the story. It does not make for thoughtful copy.
Kim: Five minutes!?! How is Rosie supposed to mock the way Chinese people speak and insult their culture in a mere five minutes?
Ms. DiManno's work ethic is legendary. When I remarked to her colleague Doug Smith that she had written five stories one day last week, he grinned and said, "Well, the paper has five sections." On one of those multistory days, Ms. DiManno got a snarky comment about one of them on the Star website, "comments" being the remarks Web readers are encouraged to post about the stories they read.
Kim: I can only imagine how awesome this snarky comment must have been.
Godd: OH HELLS YES BRING DOWN THE THUNDER OF A THOUSAND ROFLCOPTERS
"This feels more like a blog post, Rosie. A good blog, but a lame article," wrote someone identified only as HEC30.
Kim: You suck, HEC30.
Godd: Seriously, what the fuck was that?
You see? Everyone's a writer now. Everyone's an editor. It's as if the College of Physicians and Surgeons not only encouraged patients to read all the medical websites, but also to do their own diagnoses.
Kim: I think that would be fucking brilliant, though my moms might get pissed about all that blood on the shag carpet. How about you, Dr. Till?
Godd: Can't talk now. I'm on my way into surgery. Get me 10ccs of Fresca stat.
Kim: Sorry Dr. Till. I think it is too late. It would take a team of surgeons 18 hours to remove Ms. Blatchford's foot from her mouth after this one.
This is the democratization wrought by the Web, and if it has actually helped open up closed societies such as China's, in the West its chief effect, at least upon journalism, is to diminish whatever craft, and there is some, is left in the business.
Kim: I see no evidence of this, whatsoever. Defending the craft of journalism with such a poorly constructed sentence is like defending the state of NHL goaltending with an Andrew Raycroft clip reel.
Godd: Stop trawling for comments. But, yeah, Christie has done a breathtaking job of proving this point over the last couple decades.
Kim: Can I borrow Armin's copy of Swank?
It is not true that anyone can write on deadline. It is not true that anyone can do an interview. It is not true that anyone can edit themselves and sort wheat from chaff. It is not true that even great productive writers like The Globe's Jim Christie or Ms. DiManno or Mr. Farber can hit a home run every time they sit before the laptop. But the odds of them doing it are greatly increased if they haven't already filed 1,200 words to the Web, shot a video, done a podcast and blogged ferociously all day long.
Godd: Fun fact - doing something over and over again makes you worse at it. Christie can't believe we're sitting here talking about PRACTICE.
When my cohort first started out, we would get actual letters, often written in beautiful handwriting on creamy stationery. These readers went to some trouble to communicate with us, and usually we tried to write back. Then came e-mails, and though obviously they required less effort, in the early days they tended to be thoughtful, and most of us also tried to answer them. Then the volume became overwhelming, pseudonyms became common and sometimes, if you answered a note, you would learn later that your answer to one anonymous stranger had been posted somewhere, or e-mailed to 20 other people you didn't know.
And now there is blogging, and comments. Readers may take 30 seconds to post a comment on a story or blog item that a writer dashed off in a minute. On The Globe website, our slogan is "Join the Conversation," but in the blogosphere, what follows isn't usually a conversation but a brief, ungrammatical shouting match. You can have more pensive chats in a bar fight.
KimJorn676: WHATEVER YOU RACIST OLD WINDBAG WHO NOES NOTHING ABOUT JACK_SH*T EXCEPT HOW TO LOVE COPS AND SOLDIERS AND HATE PEOPLE WHO ASRENT WHITE COPS. LOLZZZ!!!!11!!
Godd: WHO THE F*CK IS SHE %TO SAY THAT SH*T IS UNGRAMMATICAL CAUSE I HEARD TJHAT THE COPYEDDITORS AT THE GLOB AND MAIL WON"T TOUCH HER WORK BECAUSE IT LOOKS LIKE IT WUS WRITEN BY AN WRETCHED HACK WHO NEVER MEYT A RUN-ON SENTENCE THAT SHE DIDN"T LOVE AS MUCH AS A STORY ABOUT A DEAD CHILD BORN OF A COP AND A SOLDIER WITH A CROWN PROSECUTOR AS GODPARENT AND 19 GUYS NAMED MUHAMMAD IN THE DOCK.. FTW ROFLOPOGOUS
KimJorn676: ARE YOU TALKING TO ME?!?!?!?!?!?!?!
GoddLooseNiqqels: YOU WANNA GO ME?!?!? DGSI UTIUGJHXKJS YIAU)(&*( OIHH NN <.
KimJorn676: YEAAAAAHHHHHH BOYZ!!!!!!
GoddLooseNiqqels: 911 WAS AN INSIDE JOB U SHEEP ASK DR RON PAUL:#
And journalism wasn't meant to be a conversation, anyway. It was maybe a monologue, at its most democratic a carefully constructed dialogue.
Godd: And blogging is not meant to be journalism. Did you know that you can eat apples and oranges and not die? It's true!
If readers didn't like or agree with the monologues in paper A, they bought paper B. What was most important about their opinions was that they thought enough to spend the coin.
Godd: So if I didn't like the genteel right-wingery of the Globe, I could treat myself to the US-style right-wingery of the Post, or the mouth-breathing Cro-Magnonry of the Toronto Sun. I was free from the heavy burdens of critiquing or opining on the wisdom Christie, Rebecca Edler, Lorne Gunter, and Michael Coren brought down the mountain every morning. It truly was a Golden Age. But woe is us, we wrote the forbidden blog and now we have been cast into the wilderness. Now we wander the wastelands of our mom's basements, with only our DSL connection and back issues of Frank Magazine to guide us on our way.
Most important, Michael Farber is right. We all have a limited number of things to say, informed opinions, funny lines, quirky observations. We have only so many words in us. Do we really want to spend them on something as ephemeral as a blog?
Godd: As opposed to a newspaper like the Globe and Mail, every issue of which, like the works of Proust, lives forever, peed on by cats, thrust into campfires, and slept under by homeless people.
Kim: You know what isn't nearly as disposable as a newspaper? The internet. It's true. I can just do a simple google search and find this classic piece of racist buffoonery that Christie wrote a couple years ago. I'll let the readers check it out themselves rather than taint this site with her vile and delusional ramblings, but I'll be surprised if many of them get past the part where she compares Muslim women to rats.
I have written some astonishingly banal columns in my life, and some very personal ones. I am the last person in the world who should object to blogging, but I do.
Kim: I have written some astonishingly mean-spirited blog posts in my life, and some very ignant ones. I am the last person in the world who should object to a mean-spirited and ignant columnist, but I do.
The thing that I know, as all the editors I have had also know, is what I didn't get to confide or write or commit to paper, because someone else had the good sense to put on the brakes. There are no brakes, and thus there is no joy, in blogville.
Kim: For Luddite Christie has struck out.
Godd: This would have been a good column, but it's a lame blog entry.
HEY YOU GUYS!!!!
Whether or not he wins the Spink award and enters Cooperstown, Bob Elliot did some HOF mittenstringing today with his piece on l'affaire Richmond:
The Jays recalled the 28-year-old, one start before Olympic rosters had to be filed, had him start twice more and then demoted him to triple-A Syracuse on Friday.
Jays management appeared surprised when some Canadians reacted angrily to Canada going into the Olympics without its best starter.
Only arrogance or a failure to understand this country, or both, would allow management to not know they were walking into a sandstorm, or whatever it is Mr. Lahey and Randy say every 10 minutes on the Trailer Park Boys.
When the Colorado Rockies didn't allow Jeff Francis to pitch in the 2004 Olympics how many people in Denver cared? Canadians cared about the loss of Richmond.
Wow, I'm Canadian, I love baseball, and I didn't care at all. Who knew that JP Ricciardi's job is to stock the Canadian national team with talent? You know, if the Yankees really were 'America's Team' they should have lent America Jeter, & A-Rod!
This is the reality of an Olympic baseball tournament in the middle of baseball season, as outlined in a good piece by Jeff Blair today. Guys aren't available. The priorities of MLB clubs and national teams are different. Just because JP runs the only team in his particular country should not mean that he has to play by different rules than every other GM in baseball. While we're at it, why not send Matt Stairs? The Canadian team could use a bat.
If you have ten
minutes to waste (you're here, aren't you?), check out
the latest from Mike Toth. No, come on, do it!
Two fun games to get you through this eyestabber - 1. Count how many of his predictions, well, aren't. (start with #1 and work down). 2. What is the most awkward segue in the piece?
This?
And enough
about Michael Phelps.
I'm partial to Don Phelps, the long-time
coach of the Calgary Canucks of the Alberta Junior Hockey League.
At least he didn't go with Fred Phelps.
Or this?
A playoff
team by default, but the Sens window of opportunity has already come
crashing down on their fingers.
10. At least the Senators have
fingers. Toronto, meanwhile, has just one Finger,
I predict a Sportsnet website editor will be arrested for aggravated assault by Christmas.
And hey, it wouldn't be a Cox Bloc joint without something about the Leafs! Well, it would, it just wouldn't get any comments. And we do have a special treat today so careful not to soil your blue and white jammies. Remember TSN spokesmelon David Pratt? Maybe from his days rockin' Port Alberni at CJAV? No? He and professional mousse receptacle Don Taylor currently host the drive time sports-talk show here in Vancouver (a recent poll question was devoted to 'what to do with the homeless during the Olympics, in which the gruesome twosome proposed opening the bars all day, opined that poor people had no right to live downtown cause the real estate is too valuable, and mused that with no homeless around, people would miss the heroin delivery. Classy). That ring a bell? No? Oh, how about this - he was the guy who got canned like tuna by the Province this summer for plagiarizing Rick Reilly - all because he "wanted to get out of the office before 12 on a Saturday." Yeah, that guy!
Anyways, his firing coincided with months of inactivity on HIS TRULY OUTSTANDING BLOG THAT NEEDS TO BE WRITTEN ENTIRELY IN CAPITALS FOR YOU TO UNDERSTAND ITS GENIUS. But he's back (or Dave Pratt is - it's hard to tell) with a brilliant take on the Sundin saga. One read of this and we can all agree - we'd all be better off "watching Batman" (if you know what I mean) than checking out Pratt's DOMAIN OF CAPITAL PUNISHMENT.
Happy Belated Birthday
That's right. Cox Bloc (pictured above) celebrated its first birthday on August 12th. Godd Till and I had a quiet little get together on Tuesday, where we marveled at how our beloved little bastard had grown. Over cupcakes and apple juice we discussed all the great times we've had during the last year. Like that time we made fun of Steve Simmons. And that other time when we were critical of Howard Berger for a lazy and intellectually dishonest column. And who can forget that time when we gave a sports reporter a mocking nickname based on one of their particular foibles. Oh, the good times we've had.
Anyway, thanks to everyone who has helped Cox Bloc get through this difficult first year. It has been a blast.
Birds of a Feather
Imagine how shitty I felt this morning when, less than a day after publishing my thoughts on Canada's starving Olympic athletes, I opened the Toronto Sun and discovered that I share the same views as Michael Coren on the subject of government subsidies for amateur sport.
Of course, I managed to get through my rant with out settling some lame grudge against Stephen Lewis and Michele Landsberg by taking personal cheap-shots at their son, and I'm sure Mr. Coren and I have very different ideas on how our government should allocate our resources, but it is still kind of scary.
I mean, wouldn't you be worried if you shared the same beliefs on any subject with a man who advocated nuking Iran, equates homosexuals with pedophiles and nazis, and regularly uses his column to smear Muslims with paranoid and hateful attacks?
So..........
I take it all back. Our athletes are tragically underfunded and our government should be doing more to support them. Hell, we should all be doing more to support them. Why, just this morning I threw a handful of quarters at the neighbour's kid while he was trampolining in the backyard. Hopefully he remembers me when he owns the podium at the 2016 Olympics.
I suggested yesterday that the government may want to consider funding social housing before equestrian programs, but seriously, any money they save by not supporting amateur sport is going to get wasted on things like extravagant catering bills for high-level bureaucratic meetings and Tony Clement's salary before it ever gets distributed to this country's most needy.
If we're going to throw money away, we may as well give it to our best and brightest sword-fighters and boat-racers. Especially if its gonna piss Michael Coren off. Maybe that, combined with the picture below of gay muslims parading through the streets of New York, will be enough to make his shiny hate-filled head explode with rage. Here's hoping, anyway.
That's right. Cox Bloc (pictured above) celebrated its first birthday on August 12th. Godd Till and I had a quiet little get together on Tuesday, where we marveled at how our beloved little bastard had grown. Over cupcakes and apple juice we discussed all the great times we've had during the last year. Like that time we made fun of Steve Simmons. And that other time when we were critical of Howard Berger for a lazy and intellectually dishonest column. And who can forget that time when we gave a sports reporter a mocking nickname based on one of their particular foibles. Oh, the good times we've had.Anyway, thanks to everyone who has helped Cox Bloc get through this difficult first year. It has been a blast.
Birds of a Feather
Imagine how shitty I felt this morning when, less than a day after publishing my thoughts on Canada's starving Olympic athletes, I opened the Toronto Sun and discovered that I share the same views as Michael Coren on the subject of government subsidies for amateur sport.
Of course, I managed to get through my rant with out settling some lame grudge against Stephen Lewis and Michele Landsberg by taking personal cheap-shots at their son, and I'm sure Mr. Coren and I have very different ideas on how our government should allocate our resources, but it is still kind of scary.
I mean, wouldn't you be worried if you shared the same beliefs on any subject with a man who advocated nuking Iran, equates homosexuals with pedophiles and nazis, and regularly uses his column to smear Muslims with paranoid and hateful attacks?
So..........
I take it all back. Our athletes are tragically underfunded and our government should be doing more to support them. Hell, we should all be doing more to support them. Why, just this morning I threw a handful of quarters at the neighbour's kid while he was trampolining in the backyard. Hopefully he remembers me when he owns the podium at the 2016 Olympics.
I suggested yesterday that the government may want to consider funding social housing before equestrian programs, but seriously, any money they save by not supporting amateur sport is going to get wasted on things like extravagant catering bills for high-level bureaucratic meetings and Tony Clement's salary before it ever gets distributed to this country's most needy.
If we're going to throw money away, we may as well give it to our best and brightest sword-fighters and boat-racers. Especially if its gonna piss Michael Coren off. Maybe that, combined with the picture below of gay muslims parading through the streets of New York, will be enough to make his shiny hate-filled head explode with rage. Here's hoping, anyway.
So, it appears that our week-long national nightmare has come to an end and Canada has finally won a few medals at the Beijing Olympics. Now that Canada has proven its superiority in 48 kg women's wrestling, demonstrated its second-bestiness in pairs rowing, and covered itself in bronze in 55 kg women's wrestling, maybe some of the hand-wringing can come to an end.
I haven't actually heard a single person I know complain about Canada's performance at the Olympics, yet I keep hearing about this nationwide sense of disappointment. Where is all of this negativity coming from?
Al Strachan's landlady (and Globe and Mail columnist) Christie Blatchford gives us a hint:
But that said, if you haven't read it already, you will; if it's not in your newspaper this morning, odds are it will be soon.
As predictable as death and taxes, every Olympics features the traditional "Canada chokes" story.
Hmmm.
Could it be?
Mittenstringers!
We all know that the reporters and columnists who cover the local sporting clubs have an annoying habit of projecting their own feelings on to the fans, and then belittling the fans for said feelings. You know, "stupid Leafs fans think Leafs will win cup, aren't they stupid"...it's Berger-by-Numbers. Well, with so many of the same reporters off to China to cover the Olympics, it is no wonder that we are seeing the same sort of stories about the 200 metre breaststroke and doubles tennis.
I mean, a Mittenstringer is always ready to ask the tough questions, whether its of a multimillionaire defencemen who scored on his own net in overtime, or an unknown amateur athlete who struggled near-poverty for years only to lose their one-shot at Olympic glory because it just wasn't their day.
My Globe and Mail colleague Matthew Sekeres describes being at an event where a young Canadian athlete was asked why she'd failed, and reacted with "a look like her puppy had died." Dawn Walton of The Globe's Calgary bureau was at the fencing hall when Sherraine Schalm, who lost in her first round to a lower-ranked fencer, was asked how she felt and said, "You feel like you want to curl up and die ... You train so long, and I feel like I disappointed myself, my coach, my family, my country, everybody."
Egad. Not only have these athletes suffered great disappointment on the world-stage, they now have Steve Simmons and Rosie "Rickles" DiManno in their face asking them why they failed and if they know how disappointed everyone is back in Canada. That ain't no picnic.
Of course, this always brings us back to the tired old story about the lack of funding for our Olympic athletes. As C-Blatch puts it:
...if Canadians want lots of Olympic medals, they will have to pay for them. While funding for athletes in Canada has increased in recent years, it remains a fraction of what is spent by the nations reaping all the gold, silver and bronze here, and athletes in less popular or more obscure sports still often pay some, or nearly all, of their own expenses.
Well, I'm sorry, but there are thousands and thousands of people in this country who don't get their dreams funded by the Canadian taxpayer. Many actors, musicians, writers and artists struggle along without a lot of government support. Federal and Provincial governments have spent the last decade and a half slashing social services so that many people can't even achieve their dream of having a fucking roof over their heads and food in their bellies.
Most egregiously, Till and I have long dreamed of giving up our day jobs and dedicating ourselves full-time to Pub Lunch, our cover band that only plays songs by the lesser-lights of mid 90's BritPop: Menswear, Gene, Sleeper, Shed Seven and many other forgotten also-rans. Unfortunately, this seems to matter about as much as fencing and kayaking, and Pub Lunch stumbles along without funding.
Thanks for nothing, Canada.
I haven't actually heard a single person I know complain about Canada's performance at the Olympics, yet I keep hearing about this nationwide sense of disappointment. Where is all of this negativity coming from?
Al Strachan's landlady (and Globe and Mail columnist) Christie Blatchford gives us a hint:
But that said, if you haven't read it already, you will; if it's not in your newspaper this morning, odds are it will be soon.
As predictable as death and taxes, every Olympics features the traditional "Canada chokes" story.
Hmmm.
Could it be?
Mittenstringers!
We all know that the reporters and columnists who cover the local sporting clubs have an annoying habit of projecting their own feelings on to the fans, and then belittling the fans for said feelings. You know, "stupid Leafs fans think Leafs will win cup, aren't they stupid"...it's Berger-by-Numbers. Well, with so many of the same reporters off to China to cover the Olympics, it is no wonder that we are seeing the same sort of stories about the 200 metre breaststroke and doubles tennis.
I mean, a Mittenstringer is always ready to ask the tough questions, whether its of a multimillionaire defencemen who scored on his own net in overtime, or an unknown amateur athlete who struggled near-poverty for years only to lose their one-shot at Olympic glory because it just wasn't their day.
My Globe and Mail colleague Matthew Sekeres describes being at an event where a young Canadian athlete was asked why she'd failed, and reacted with "a look like her puppy had died." Dawn Walton of The Globe's Calgary bureau was at the fencing hall when Sherraine Schalm, who lost in her first round to a lower-ranked fencer, was asked how she felt and said, "You feel like you want to curl up and die ... You train so long, and I feel like I disappointed myself, my coach, my family, my country, everybody."
Egad. Not only have these athletes suffered great disappointment on the world-stage, they now have Steve Simmons and Rosie "Rickles" DiManno in their face asking them why they failed and if they know how disappointed everyone is back in Canada. That ain't no picnic.
Of course, this always brings us back to the tired old story about the lack of funding for our Olympic athletes. As C-Blatch puts it:
...if Canadians want lots of Olympic medals, they will have to pay for them. While funding for athletes in Canada has increased in recent years, it remains a fraction of what is spent by the nations reaping all the gold, silver and bronze here, and athletes in less popular or more obscure sports still often pay some, or nearly all, of their own expenses.
Well, I'm sorry, but there are thousands and thousands of people in this country who don't get their dreams funded by the Canadian taxpayer. Many actors, musicians, writers and artists struggle along without a lot of government support. Federal and Provincial governments have spent the last decade and a half slashing social services so that many people can't even achieve their dream of having a fucking roof over their heads and food in their bellies.
Most egregiously, Till and I have long dreamed of giving up our day jobs and dedicating ourselves full-time to Pub Lunch, our cover band that only plays songs by the lesser-lights of mid 90's BritPop: Menswear, Gene, Sleeper, Shed Seven and many other forgotten also-rans. Unfortunately, this seems to matter about as much as fencing and kayaking, and Pub Lunch stumbles along without funding.
Thanks for nothing, Canada.
You may be surprised to learn that former Toronto Sun columnist and current Fox Sports contributor Al Strachan is one of the few reporters who have been given a free pass at the Cox Bloc. Unlike the others, who we don't pick on because they are generally very good at their jobs and entertaining (Brunt, Blair, uh, end of list), Strachan has mostly flown under the radar due to the personal wishes of Mr. Godd Till.
As far as I can tell, there are three reasons why Till instituted a No Al Bashing rule at this site:
1. Strachan was one of the few reporters, columnists and talking heads who gave the players side a fair shake during the lock-out. Unlike others who mimicked the fans' misguided disgust with "millionaire athletes going on strike," Strachan seemed to have a firm grasp of the actual labour issues involved in the lock out and wasn't afraid to stand up for the players in face of people like Bill Watters spitting bile and plain old spit. The fact that Strachan and Nick Kypreos were the only ones I can remember who took this approach is a very sad reflection on the state of sports journalism in Canada. Because those guys are terrible.
2. Till once met Strachan at a bar in Montreal, talked hockey for a bit, and bought big Al a shot. Note to Howard Berger: If you are sick of Till picking on you, just be nice to him for a few minutes.
3. Al Strachan spends his winters sleeping on Christie Blatchford's couch, which explains a lot. Anyone who is good with C-Blatch is good with Godd Till.
However, much like the production of Tahiti Treat, all good things must come to an end. Especially if, like Tahiti Treat and Al Strachan, those things are strangely coloured and really bad for you. After reading Al's recent attempted take-down of Brian Burke, Till noticed a cheap-shot at the expense of Felix Potvin and declared the Albargo finished.
Al is fair game. So...here we go.
I've noticed a few Leafs fans on the internets seem to be offended by the aforementioned Burke-bash, mostly because of a little dig at Canada's most beloved hockey team at the end of the column. I personally don't see why anyone would get their Doug Gilmour Underoos all in a bunch over this one. This isn't in the same league as Cox or Berger.
Well...actually...while Strachan's piece fails at even the most basic level of Leaf-fan-baiting so perfected by Cox and friends, it does resemble the usual Mittenstringer screed in that the author seems to be using his column to settle old scores rather than, you know, writing something interesting and thought-provoking about sports. Anyone who has seen Al on the Score or heard him on Hardcore Sports Radio lately knows that Al really really hates Brian Burke. Well, this column is basically a transcript of Al's recent TV and radio appearances.
I'm not going to give the content of this piece the usual Fisking because it doesn't really deserve the effort. Seriously, the crux of the piece is "take away Burke's Stanley Cup win and he hasn't really won anything." How do you even begin to bring logic into that conversation? What I'm really interested in is the genesis of this spat. What caused these megapowers to explode?
As far as I can tell, it started back in early 2001 when Strachan claimed that Burke, then GM of the Vancouver Canucks, was prepared to deal Brendan Morrison and Bryan Allen for Mike Peca. Hardly Hogan leaving Savage alone to get his ass kicked by Akeem and the Big Bossman, but Burke went off like a one man Cox Bloc anyway:
"The very fact that Al Strachan reported it, in my opinion, makes it extremely likely it has no factual basis what-so-ever. I deny it specifically and categorically. I have never discussed Brendan Morrison with Buffalo, I have never discussed Bryan Allen with Buffalo and I have not talked to Darcy Regier in three weeks. So I'm shocked that a respectable media outlet like Hockey Night in Canada would allow this garbage rumour-mongering to take place. I'm amazed that whoever produces that show would tolerate this."
As the recent and lengthy Brian Burke versus Kevin Lowe grudge match has shown, Burke doesn't really let these things go. A week later he was still royally pissed off:
Burke discounted the rumour, reported by the Toronto Sun's Al Strachan during HNIC's Satellite Hot Stove, saying that he had to phone both Morrison and Allen and assure them that they weren't leaving.
"The fact that Al Strachan reported this trade rumour by itself should make it suspect," Burke told the Globe and Mail. "His accuracy rate on rumours like this is non-existent.
"The fact that a respected media like Hockey Night In Canada would allow this type of garbage to be aired is ridiculous.
"I have never talked to the Buffalo Sabres about either of the players that were mentioned in that deal."
Is Burke really that naive? How could anyone be surprised by seeing this type of garbage on Hockey Night in Canada?
Anyway, three years later and Canada's version of Coronation Street was once again the setting for a classic Burkian beatdown on poor old Al Strachan. This one happened on February 28, 2004, after Strachan had claimed on the Satellite Hotstove that Burke was demanding $2 million per year in contract negotiations with the Vancouver Canucks. Here is a transcription of the fun bits from when Burke came on to respond:
BB: My objection, and the reason I asked to go on tonight is, a member of your Satellite Hotstove group, Al Strachan, just went on the air and said, as if it were factual, which he's pretty loose with generally, that I was asking for two million dollars a year. I don't care if other people in Canada think that's true. I want the fans here in British Columbia to know there's absolutely no truth to that whatsoever, and once again Al Strachan has cemented his relationship or his reputation with dishonesty.
RM: Well, you know Brian, that's not the first time I've heard that figure. Where's that come from?
BB: I have no idea. Why doesn't someone from Hockey Night in Canada call me and ask me if that figure is on the table? It's never been, it's not now.
RM: You're going to give us that figure?
BB: I can tell you it's not on the table. I can tell you this. I will put this bet on the line. I will publish, when this is all done, what is on the table right from Brian Burke as far as staying, and if there is a two in there anywhere I'll resign. If there's not, this guy gets off of Hockey Night in Canada like he should be anyway.
RM: Well, you'll have to take that one up with Joel Darling, but I will say I've heard that number. So wherever that came from, and as you know...
BB: Well, you know what Ron? You wouldn't have gone on the air and talked about the number.
RM: No
BB: You say you've heard the number. You would have had the professional sense to call me and ask about it. This guy is not professional.
(Snip. Boring bit about what the fans in Vancouver think.)
BB: I certainly wouldn't have come on this show to talk about my contract if someone on Hockey Night hadn't been irresponsible and deceitful about what's happened here. That's the only thing I care that people get right.
See, Brian just cares about getting things right.
Later, Strachan mocked Burke's playoff futility on a subsequent edition of the Hotstove. Burke responded by banning Strachan from the Canucks dressing room (much like how his successor, Dave Nonis, banned scoring forwards). More than four years later, and Strachan still hasn't let it go. His recent column manipulates a lot of facts, and ignores many others, in a seemingly never-ending quest to prove that Brian Burke ain't all that.
While all of this is kinda funny, it isn't journalism, and it isn't really becoming of a professional writer with a long career behind him. Why the "editors" at Fox News allowed this, I don't know. I mean, if you are only looking to settle grudges and take cheapshots at people from behind the safety a computer monitor, start a blog. Like we did.
On another note...
I just heard that Isaac Hayes died this afternoon. Very sad news. I had the opportunity to go see Hayes about a month ago at the Portland Blues Festival (pictured). He was a bit slow moving around the stage, but he still put on a fantastic show. Known more in recent years for Chocolate Salty Balls than Hot Buttered Soul, Hayes was the heart of Stax records in the late sixties and had his biggest hit a few years later with the Theme From Shaft. Hopefully he'll be remembered more for his incredible music than as a cartoon character (which, still, was also brilliant). RIP Isaac. Here are a few tunes to remember him by: Walk on By, By the Time I get to Phoenix, Theme from Shaft
As far as I can tell, there are three reasons why Till instituted a No Al Bashing rule at this site:
1. Strachan was one of the few reporters, columnists and talking heads who gave the players side a fair shake during the lock-out. Unlike others who mimicked the fans' misguided disgust with "millionaire athletes going on strike," Strachan seemed to have a firm grasp of the actual labour issues involved in the lock out and wasn't afraid to stand up for the players in face of people like Bill Watters spitting bile and plain old spit. The fact that Strachan and Nick Kypreos were the only ones I can remember who took this approach is a very sad reflection on the state of sports journalism in Canada. Because those guys are terrible.
2. Till once met Strachan at a bar in Montreal, talked hockey for a bit, and bought big Al a shot. Note to Howard Berger: If you are sick of Till picking on you, just be nice to him for a few minutes.
3. Al Strachan spends his winters sleeping on Christie Blatchford's couch, which explains a lot. Anyone who is good with C-Blatch is good with Godd Till.
However, much like the production of Tahiti Treat, all good things must come to an end. Especially if, like Tahiti Treat and Al Strachan, those things are strangely coloured and really bad for you. After reading Al's recent attempted take-down of Brian Burke, Till noticed a cheap-shot at the expense of Felix Potvin and declared the Albargo finished.
Al is fair game. So...here we go.
I've noticed a few Leafs fans on the internets seem to be offended by the aforementioned Burke-bash, mostly because of a little dig at Canada's most beloved hockey team at the end of the column. I personally don't see why anyone would get their Doug Gilmour Underoos all in a bunch over this one. This isn't in the same league as Cox or Berger.
Well...actually...while Strachan's piece fails at even the most basic level of Leaf-fan-baiting so perfected by Cox and friends, it does resemble the usual Mittenstringer screed in that the author seems to be using his column to settle old scores rather than, you know, writing something interesting and thought-provoking about sports. Anyone who has seen Al on the Score or heard him on Hardcore Sports Radio lately knows that Al really really hates Brian Burke. Well, this column is basically a transcript of Al's recent TV and radio appearances.
I'm not going to give the content of this piece the usual Fisking because it doesn't really deserve the effort. Seriously, the crux of the piece is "take away Burke's Stanley Cup win and he hasn't really won anything." How do you even begin to bring logic into that conversation? What I'm really interested in is the genesis of this spat. What caused these megapowers to explode?
As far as I can tell, it started back in early 2001 when Strachan claimed that Burke, then GM of the Vancouver Canucks, was prepared to deal Brendan Morrison and Bryan Allen for Mike Peca. Hardly Hogan leaving Savage alone to get his ass kicked by Akeem and the Big Bossman, but Burke went off like a one man Cox Bloc anyway:
"The very fact that Al Strachan reported it, in my opinion, makes it extremely likely it has no factual basis what-so-ever. I deny it specifically and categorically. I have never discussed Brendan Morrison with Buffalo, I have never discussed Bryan Allen with Buffalo and I have not talked to Darcy Regier in three weeks. So I'm shocked that a respectable media outlet like Hockey Night in Canada would allow this garbage rumour-mongering to take place. I'm amazed that whoever produces that show would tolerate this."
As the recent and lengthy Brian Burke versus Kevin Lowe grudge match has shown, Burke doesn't really let these things go. A week later he was still royally pissed off:
Burke discounted the rumour, reported by the Toronto Sun's Al Strachan during HNIC's Satellite Hot Stove, saying that he had to phone both Morrison and Allen and assure them that they weren't leaving.
"The fact that Al Strachan reported this trade rumour by itself should make it suspect," Burke told the Globe and Mail. "His accuracy rate on rumours like this is non-existent.
"The fact that a respected media like Hockey Night In Canada would allow this type of garbage to be aired is ridiculous.
"I have never talked to the Buffalo Sabres about either of the players that were mentioned in that deal."
Is Burke really that naive? How could anyone be surprised by seeing this type of garbage on Hockey Night in Canada?
Anyway, three years later and Canada's version of Coronation Street was once again the setting for a classic Burkian beatdown on poor old Al Strachan. This one happened on February 28, 2004, after Strachan had claimed on the Satellite Hotstove that Burke was demanding $2 million per year in contract negotiations with the Vancouver Canucks. Here is a transcription of the fun bits from when Burke came on to respond:
BB: My objection, and the reason I asked to go on tonight is, a member of your Satellite Hotstove group, Al Strachan, just went on the air and said, as if it were factual, which he's pretty loose with generally, that I was asking for two million dollars a year. I don't care if other people in Canada think that's true. I want the fans here in British Columbia to know there's absolutely no truth to that whatsoever, and once again Al Strachan has cemented his relationship or his reputation with dishonesty.
RM: Well, you know Brian, that's not the first time I've heard that figure. Where's that come from?
BB: I have no idea. Why doesn't someone from Hockey Night in Canada call me and ask me if that figure is on the table? It's never been, it's not now.
RM: You're going to give us that figure?
BB: I can tell you it's not on the table. I can tell you this. I will put this bet on the line. I will publish, when this is all done, what is on the table right from Brian Burke as far as staying, and if there is a two in there anywhere I'll resign. If there's not, this guy gets off of Hockey Night in Canada like he should be anyway.
RM: Well, you'll have to take that one up with Joel Darling, but I will say I've heard that number. So wherever that came from, and as you know...
BB: Well, you know what Ron? You wouldn't have gone on the air and talked about the number.
RM: No
BB: You say you've heard the number. You would have had the professional sense to call me and ask about it. This guy is not professional.
(Snip. Boring bit about what the fans in Vancouver think.)
BB: I certainly wouldn't have come on this show to talk about my contract if someone on Hockey Night hadn't been irresponsible and deceitful about what's happened here. That's the only thing I care that people get right.
See, Brian just cares about getting things right.
Later, Strachan mocked Burke's playoff futility on a subsequent edition of the Hotstove. Burke responded by banning Strachan from the Canucks dressing room (much like how his successor, Dave Nonis, banned scoring forwards). More than four years later, and Strachan still hasn't let it go. His recent column manipulates a lot of facts, and ignores many others, in a seemingly never-ending quest to prove that Brian Burke ain't all that.
While all of this is kinda funny, it isn't journalism, and it isn't really becoming of a professional writer with a long career behind him. Why the "editors" at Fox News allowed this, I don't know. I mean, if you are only looking to settle grudges and take cheapshots at people from behind the safety a computer monitor, start a blog. Like we did.
On another note...
I just heard that Isaac Hayes died this afternoon. Very sad news. I had the opportunity to go see Hayes about a month ago at the Portland Blues Festival (pictured). He was a bit slow moving around the stage, but he still put on a fantastic show. Known more in recent years for Chocolate Salty Balls than Hot Buttered Soul, Hayes was the heart of Stax records in the late sixties and had his biggest hit a few years later with the Theme From Shaft. Hopefully he'll be remembered more for his incredible music than as a cartoon character (which, still, was also brilliant). RIP Isaac. Here are a few tunes to remember him by: Walk on By, By the Time I get to Phoenix, Theme from Shaft
Back in January we crowned Damien Cox as the 2008 Mittenstringer of the Year. Cox, the namesake of this site, was a shoo-in for the inaugural award in 2007, but was pipped at the finish like by Steve Simmons, who turned in a stupid-on-steroids performance that couldn't be denied.
However, it took only 22 cold January days for us to determine that no one was topping the idiocy that Cox displayed in the waning days of Brylcreem Jr.'s maniacal reign at the helm of Canada's most beloved hockey team.
It seemed like a good idea at the time. I mean who could ever top this? Well, the answer, my friend, is a blowhard radio news man with a bushy nose-neighbour and a commitment to justice for the proletariat.
Over the last few weeks there has been a groundswell of resentment and anger directed towards Working Class Howard. Message boards are filled with diatribes against our favourite mustachioed mittenstringer. There is a petition to have his blog removed from Eklund's Magical World of Make-Believe. Pension Plan Puppets ripped him forty-two new assholes on Friday. Varry Galk wrote a post for this site about Berger which has received three times as much traffic as anything we normally post.
Has something changed? Why, all of a sudden, has Howard become such a subject of scorn? We've been ripping on the man since we started this blog, and many others have tried to keep Howard honest in the past, but these last few weeks it seems like everyone hates Howie. Maybe everyone finally reached their breaking point with Howard's manipulation of the facts, incessant Leaf-fan bashing, and periodic bouts of bewildering weirdness when he uses his blog to list the arenas visited during his career or wage class warfare against millionaire athletes.
Or, maybe, Howard is taking so much criticism because he is the only one working this summer. While Simmons has spent the last few weeks trying to figure whatever happened to Randy Knorr, and Damien Cox is off wondering whether Rafa Nadal could beat Tiger Woods in a game of Golfennis, Working Class Howard has spewed out a steady stream of bullshit that seems to have made a lot of people very unhappy.
His recent column about Nikolai Kulemin, (in which Leafs fans are scorned as deluded cult members for daring to be excited about a promising rookie who just happened to be the Russian league and playoff MVP last year) is just the latest frightening jeremiad by a man who, at this rate, will be outside the ACC with a sandwich board by opening night. His evidence? Outdated scouting reports and a guys signature on a message board profile. Next week he will probably count the number of blue cars parked on a square block of Eglinton and conclude that Leafs Nation has decided Mark Bell is a lock for next year's Hart Trophy.
It's gotten to the point where the commenters on Eklund's Candyland are in open revolt against the longtime champion of the working man, starting a petition to have him removed as Leafs correspondent and boycotting his entries. It's truly ironic that a man who has long championed boycotting the Leafs has become the target of a boycott himself. Is it possible to boycott the monolithic Leafs, who dominate a market in which 90% of Leaf fans don't come within Kyle Wellwood's refrigerator of attending a game? No. But boycotting an online column? That's a lot more feasible.
So, this is where you come in Bloc Heads. We don't want to come off like Brett Favre or Mr. Terrence Funk, but we think we may have to un-retire the 2008 Mittenstringer of the Year Award. Is it fair to strip Damien of his award? This isn't to say that Damien's work isn't terrible, but is it is mind-numbingly terrible as Howard Berger's? Either way, Berger may be doing the most valuable service of all. Every article he writes seems to be turning more and more Leafs followers towards blogs like Down Goes Brown and PPP in search of intelligent Leaf coverage. Maybe he really does care about the fans. Leave your thoughts in the comments.
*****A Godd Till and Kim Jorn Joint*****
However, it took only 22 cold January days for us to determine that no one was topping the idiocy that Cox displayed in the waning days of Brylcreem Jr.'s maniacal reign at the helm of Canada's most beloved hockey team.
It seemed like a good idea at the time. I mean who could ever top this? Well, the answer, my friend, is a blowhard radio news man with a bushy nose-neighbour and a commitment to justice for the proletariat.
Over the last few weeks there has been a groundswell of resentment and anger directed towards Working Class Howard. Message boards are filled with diatribes against our favourite mustachioed mittenstringer. There is a petition to have his blog removed from Eklund's Magical World of Make-Believe. Pension Plan Puppets ripped him forty-two new assholes on Friday. Varry Galk wrote a post for this site about Berger which has received three times as much traffic as anything we normally post.Has something changed? Why, all of a sudden, has Howard become such a subject of scorn? We've been ripping on the man since we started this blog, and many others have tried to keep Howard honest in the past, but these last few weeks it seems like everyone hates Howie. Maybe everyone finally reached their breaking point with Howard's manipulation of the facts, incessant Leaf-fan bashing, and periodic bouts of bewildering weirdness when he uses his blog to list the arenas visited during his career or wage class warfare against millionaire athletes.
Or, maybe, Howard is taking so much criticism because he is the only one working this summer. While Simmons has spent the last few weeks trying to figure whatever happened to Randy Knorr, and Damien Cox is off wondering whether Rafa Nadal could beat Tiger Woods in a game of Golfennis, Working Class Howard has spewed out a steady stream of bullshit that seems to have made a lot of people very unhappy.
His recent column about Nikolai Kulemin, (in which Leafs fans are scorned as deluded cult members for daring to be excited about a promising rookie who just happened to be the Russian league and playoff MVP last year) is just the latest frightening jeremiad by a man who, at this rate, will be outside the ACC with a sandwich board by opening night. His evidence? Outdated scouting reports and a guys signature on a message board profile. Next week he will probably count the number of blue cars parked on a square block of Eglinton and conclude that Leafs Nation has decided Mark Bell is a lock for next year's Hart Trophy.
It's gotten to the point where the commenters on Eklund's Candyland are in open revolt against the longtime champion of the working man, starting a petition to have him removed as Leafs correspondent and boycotting his entries. It's truly ironic that a man who has long championed boycotting the Leafs has become the target of a boycott himself. Is it possible to boycott the monolithic Leafs, who dominate a market in which 90% of Leaf fans don't come within Kyle Wellwood's refrigerator of attending a game? No. But boycotting an online column? That's a lot more feasible.
So, this is where you come in Bloc Heads. We don't want to come off like Brett Favre or Mr. Terrence Funk, but we think we may have to un-retire the 2008 Mittenstringer of the Year Award. Is it fair to strip Damien of his award? This isn't to say that Damien's work isn't terrible, but is it is mind-numbingly terrible as Howard Berger's? Either way, Berger may be doing the most valuable service of all. Every article he writes seems to be turning more and more Leafs followers towards blogs like Down Goes Brown and PPP in search of intelligent Leaf coverage. Maybe he really does care about the fans. Leave your thoughts in the comments.
*****A Godd Till and Kim Jorn Joint*****
When I was a kid, back before cable, the Internet, and pain-in-the-ass blogs devoted to snarking on sportswriters in a juvenile fashion, there were very few outlets for a snot-nosed little nerd like me to huff back my sports fill. Basically, my primary outlets to interact with what was then the far-off and mysterious world of pro sports were baseball and hockey cards, newspapers, occasional network TV broadcasts, books, and the then-rare magazines devoted to the North American scene.
Of those magazines, three stood out like hoary old giants coming down the mountain with unimpeachable testimony: Sports Illustrated, the Sporting News, and the Hockey News. (I was also enamoured of Hockey Digest, especially their 'Who's Better?' feature where you could hash out earth-shattering debates like the superiority of Bernie Nicholls vs Jimmy Carson. Do they still run that?)
These magazines had stuff no one else did - great photography, quality writing, lengthy, in-depth features, coverage of all the clubs in the league, not just your local team, best of all, rows and rows of stats - stuff that made them indispensable. But as with so many warhorses of the print era, the coming of the Internet has not been kind. The things they specialized in are now commonplace - a flick of the mouse or remote and I can, instead of reading a 500-word notes column on the St. Louis Blues, watch them playing Chicago, read their beat writers in the Post-Dispatch, and follow the team through the eyes of an impassioned, knowledegable fan on a blog. Or hell, I can just stop reading about Jeff Woywitka's progress in Peoria and watch Mr Perfect take on the Hitman.
The last few years have shown the toll this new scenario has taken on the three. The Sporting News stopped publishing it's 80-year old annual guides, moved out of St. Louis, and recently launched an abominable web-paper which is uncopiable, guaranteeing that no bloggers will link to it. Sports Illustrated gives away all it's content for free online, and responds to the obvious question of why anyone would now pay $5 a week for the mag by giving away free subscriptions with a 12-pack of toilet paper.
The Hockey News has changed the look of its magazine inside and out, and dropped the price, if I remember correctly. But of the three, they might be making the most progress in adapting to the online world. Apparently, they have been following popular websites like Hockeybuzz and realized the best way to attract the all-important page views is to write nonsensical columns trolling Leafs fans. Like this one!
So while Sundin dithers on what to do next season, here are 10 reasons why he won't make the Hall of Fame three years after his retirement. There might be 20 reasons why he will make the Hall some day, but some members of the selection committee will reject him for these flaws :
OH YEAH!!!!
10. Has never led his team to great heights.
Wow, I must have been WICKED high when I saw Sundin leading Team Sweden to the Olympic gold medal against the finest hockey talent in the world. You do know the it's HOCKEY Hall of Fame, right?
The rest of this article continues in this pointless vein, so I won't go point by point. Why should I bother, when Costello himself won't even put his own name on his argument, instead saying "this is what some writers will say but maybe not me when his time comes." Brian Costello, winner of this month's Cox Bloc Profile In Courage. I'll give you a couple more of the highlights:
3. Has never won an individual award.
Dude, he won the Mark Messier Memorial Lay's Potato Chips Goblet THIS YEAR!! Come on!
2. Has never won a Stanley Cup - or even made it to the final.
Wow, I guess Darryl Sittler, Brad Park, Borje Salming, Vladislav Tretiak, Tony Esposito, Jean Ratelle, Marcel Dionne, Michel Goulet, Peter Stastny, and about ninety other guys who never won the Cup are getting kicked out next year. Controversial. Also, did you know Mats Sundin is retired and his career is over? Costello has the SCOOP, Gz.
1. Has rarely played at a level where he's considered among the top few players at his position.
This, after he points out as a negative that Sundin has been a second team all-star twice, so actually he's been considered the second best centre in the league twice. He's also made the All-star team nine times (and would have been there again this year if he hadn't declined), and he wasn't the fourth line centre, believe me.
He has been loyal, durable, his production has been remarkably consistent, but he hasn't crossed the line between being a very, very good player and a truly exceptional player.
He might have an argument here, if that statement bore any resemblance to reality. Anyone who thinks the Hockey Hall of Fame is for only the 'truly exceptional' should take a look at Clark Gillies, Bernie Federko, Mike Gartner, and Glenn Anderson having a beer together at the next induction weekend. By any reasonable look at the HOF standard, Sundin walks it.
I would add stuff about Brian apparently having no idea to adjust for the fact that Mats played his entire prime in the Dead Puck era, but you get the point. With articles like this, I eagerly look forward to the Hockey News' next headline-grabbing move in the world of shinny journalism - the hiring of Howard Berger and Damien Cox as Editors-at-Large. Funny, I thought it was Mad Magazine who called their contributors "The Usual Gang Of Idiots".....
Of those magazines, three stood out like hoary old giants coming down the mountain with unimpeachable testimony: Sports Illustrated, the Sporting News, and the Hockey News. (I was also enamoured of Hockey Digest, especially their 'Who's Better?' feature where you could hash out earth-shattering debates like the superiority of Bernie Nicholls vs Jimmy Carson. Do they still run that?)
These magazines had stuff no one else did - great photography, quality writing, lengthy, in-depth features, coverage of all the clubs in the league, not just your local team, best of all, rows and rows of stats - stuff that made them indispensable. But as with so many warhorses of the print era, the coming of the Internet has not been kind. The things they specialized in are now commonplace - a flick of the mouse or remote and I can, instead of reading a 500-word notes column on the St. Louis Blues, watch them playing Chicago, read their beat writers in the Post-Dispatch, and follow the team through the eyes of an impassioned, knowledegable fan on a blog. Or hell, I can just stop reading about Jeff Woywitka's progress in Peoria and watch Mr Perfect take on the Hitman.
The last few years have shown the toll this new scenario has taken on the three. The Sporting News stopped publishing it's 80-year old annual guides, moved out of St. Louis, and recently launched an abominable web-paper which is uncopiable, guaranteeing that no bloggers will link to it. Sports Illustrated gives away all it's content for free online, and responds to the obvious question of why anyone would now pay $5 a week for the mag by giving away free subscriptions with a 12-pack of toilet paper.
The Hockey News has changed the look of its magazine inside and out, and dropped the price, if I remember correctly. But of the three, they might be making the most progress in adapting to the online world. Apparently, they have been following popular websites like Hockeybuzz and realized the best way to attract the all-important page views is to write nonsensical columns trolling Leafs fans. Like this one!
THN.com Top 10: Reasons why Mats Sundin isn't a Hall of Famer
by Brian Costello
31/07/2008 11:00:01 AM
Sundin is a consistent player, but here's why he isn't a Hall of Famer.
Some media outlets have referred to the indecisive Mats Sundin as an automatic Hall of Famer, regardless of what he decides to do with his hockey career.
So while Sundin dithers on what to do next season, here are 10 reasons why he won't make the Hall of Fame three years after his retirement. There might be 20 reasons why he will make the Hall some day, but some members of the selection committee will reject him for these flaws :
OH YEAH!!!!
10. Has never led his team to great heights.
Wow, I must have been WICKED high when I saw Sundin leading Team Sweden to the Olympic gold medal against the finest hockey talent in the world. You do know the it's HOCKEY Hall of Fame, right?
The rest of this article continues in this pointless vein, so I won't go point by point. Why should I bother, when Costello himself won't even put his own name on his argument, instead saying "this is what some writers will say but maybe not me when his time comes." Brian Costello, winner of this month's Cox Bloc Profile In Courage. I'll give you a couple more of the highlights:
3. Has never won an individual award.
Dude, he won the Mark Messier Memorial Lay's Potato Chips Goblet THIS YEAR!! Come on!
2. Has never won a Stanley Cup - or even made it to the final.
Wow, I guess Darryl Sittler, Brad Park, Borje Salming, Vladislav Tretiak, Tony Esposito, Jean Ratelle, Marcel Dionne, Michel Goulet, Peter Stastny, and about ninety other guys who never won the Cup are getting kicked out next year. Controversial. Also, did you know Mats Sundin is retired and his career is over? Costello has the SCOOP, Gz.
1. Has rarely played at a level where he's considered among the top few players at his position.
This, after he points out as a negative that Sundin has been a second team all-star twice, so actually he's been considered the second best centre in the league twice. He's also made the All-star team nine times (and would have been there again this year if he hadn't declined), and he wasn't the fourth line centre, believe me.
He has been loyal, durable, his production has been remarkably consistent, but he hasn't crossed the line between being a very, very good player and a truly exceptional player.
He might have an argument here, if that statement bore any resemblance to reality. Anyone who thinks the Hockey Hall of Fame is for only the 'truly exceptional' should take a look at Clark Gillies, Bernie Federko, Mike Gartner, and Glenn Anderson having a beer together at the next induction weekend. By any reasonable look at the HOF standard, Sundin walks it.
I would add stuff about Brian apparently having no idea to adjust for the fact that Mats played his entire prime in the Dead Puck era, but you get the point. With articles like this, I eagerly look forward to the Hockey News' next headline-grabbing move in the world of shinny journalism - the hiring of Howard Berger and Damien Cox as Editors-at-Large. Funny, I thought it was Mad Magazine who called their contributors "The Usual Gang Of Idiots".....
Rosie DiManno, in Beijing to cover the Olympics, shows that she is able to insult the Chinese with the same ease and ignorance that she usually reserves for her readers' intelligence:
Wow. I mean...wow.
Hopefully our athletes do a better job of representing us in Beijing than our reporters. The standard has already been set pretty low.
And then there's the food.
China seems unable to convince the world that its edibles, at least during the Games and most especially at the athletes' village, will be free of pathogens and substances that could trigger positive drug results, or just cardboard particles and dog meat.Wow. I mean...wow.
Hopefully our athletes do a better job of representing us in Beijing than our reporters. The standard has already been set pretty low.
