The Weekly Meat

Stanley Cup 2010

The National Hockey League has, after so many missteps over the years, put together a really cool marketing campaign for the playoffs. Their history will be made TV spots are a cool bit of simple cinematic trickery for the casual viewer; historically poignant for the true fan; and, as a smart piece of business, quickly expandable.

Helpful too that as it turns out in this year's long slog toward The Stanley Cup finals, the Philadelphia Flyers actually did make history deserving of their own ad (with which they were quickly rewarded), pulling off one of the most amazing comebacks in sports history. Down 3-0 in the second round to the Boston Bruins, they won game 4, game 5, and then game 6 to force a game 7.

To those of us who follow sports, Game 7s are the pinnacle of excitement, anxiety, fear, gamesmanship, skill, guts, exhilaration; in short, everything that is sport itself.

Even when the Flyers are not part of the equation, I will watch any game 7, any time, anywhere. Game 7s are like the Super Bowl, but with a soul.

And Flyers-Bruins 2010 delivered. In game 7 itself (in Boston), the Flyers found themselves down 3-0 after the first period. There was an odd perfection to the score. After going down 3-0 in the series, the Flyers were now facing the same deficit in goals. To win the series they would again have to come back against seemingly insurmountable odds.

Here, I just have to say that I've played hockey nearly all my life. It is the single greatest game I know. I've been on the wrong side of blowouts, and the right side; won close playoff games (one in the final second of play), and lost them. And I have to say, even for the ultra-competitive among us, it's not all that difficult sometimes to just give in to losing. Professionals and athletes at every level — good, hard-working, honest people I respect and would be honored to go into battle with — give in to losing. It is easy — simply going to sleep in the face of hypothermia. Something we can relate to. It is not death, only sport. And even if sport is one's life, we realize the material difference between the two and perhaps that is precisely why it is so easy to just give in and give up.

Only the Flyers didn't.

They regrouped, dug in, cowboyed up, got a bounce, and went to work. They found a way to win in the face of certain loss.

I have been a Flyers fan literally all my life. They are my one team; the single thing over which I fall prey to true fanatacism. And yet, I'm a middle-aged guy, and practical; equal parts dreamer and cynic. So where they found the enormous stones to do this, I cannot say. Only those few (those "happy few") on this team might ever know exactly where the strength of this team lies. But what they pulled off in their series of comebacks was one of the most incredible sporting feats I have ever seen.

Riding the wave of their win over the Bruins, tenacious forechecking, and smothering team defense, the Flyers went on to beat the Montreal Canadiens in five games, and now — mind you, after making the playoffs not only on the final day of the season, but thanks to an overtime shootout victory on that day — we find ourselves (yes, that is how we fanatics discuss our teams) back in the Stanley Cup finals, after a 13-year respite (and a 35-year drought of being Cup champions).

And it feels damn good.

I love our chances too. Perhaps more than I should. I mean, Chicago is the hot young team; they're supposed to win. But the Flyers, by any measure, have precisely what it takes to win a Cup: hot goaltending, team defense, a relentless forecheck, clutch snipers, skillful role players, a few absolute shutdown defensemen, a couple a-one pests, fearless shot-blockers, a combination of young legs and veteran experience, excellent coaching, a system the team believes in, confidence in their abilities, and as we've seen, the biggest cojones there are.

Forget about the odds, forget destiny even; we're in it to win it.

Drop the puck already.

Tournament of Human Vices - 2010 Bracket

Some very difficult first-round matchups this year.

Click the thumbnail for a full-size, printable bracket. Have at it, people!

Running the Table

Every so often, a confluence of three major events occurs in my life. Sometimes I can see these trifectas coming, sometimes I can't.

In the spring of 2004, the Philadelphia Flyers (over which, longtime readers will recognize, I'm a bit fanatical) went deep into the hockey playoffs and had a good shot to win the Stanley Cup (a feat they haven't accomplished since I was 9); superhorse and Philly native Smarty Jones had a legitimate shot at winning the Triple Crown; and my wife and I were trying our damndest to get pregnant. Not a one happened.

A few months later, John Kerry was vying for the White House, while my local if not lifetime obsession, the Red Sox were vying for their first World Series in 86 years, and still, my wife and I were trying our damndest to stay pregnant. At least one of those three turned out well.

The latest confluence, I could see on the horizon for the past month now, and (somewhat shockingly and for maybe the first time in history) this time the deals have all gone down in my favor.

Within the span of a week, my hometown Philadelphia Phillies won the World Series, Barack Obama won the election, and I was not one of the hundreds of employees at my workplace to be laid off.

Three major deals. And it would be a lie to say I haven't toyed with their order of priority many times during the weeks leading up to their occurrence. It was possibly the biggest throwdown of my life. Or, as my brother emailed in regard to the Phillies and Obama victories, "It overstates nothing to say that we've witnessed two of the most exciting moments in our lives within the last 7 days." And he wasn't even in danger of being laid off.

I know full well, as we all should by now, that past performance is not necessarily indicative of future results, but damn, I don't generally run the table like this. I mean, in addition to the election of Obama, all state races and ballot initiatives even went the way I voted.

Now, of course, because fate is too often a cruel wench, I find myself wondering if there is a fourth unforeseen shoe waiting to drop. As anyone familiar with the parimutuel windows knows, it's painfully possible to hit the trifecta but miss out on the superfecta. Because typically, when the hits just keep on coming, I'm being beaten down and feeling pimped by life, not lifted up.

Which is why the latest trifecta success seems to be almost a referendum on how I see myself. I mean, as a guy from a city of underdogs as also-rans, can I allow that not only do "bad things happen to good people" but that sometimes good things actually happen too. And when they do, can it possibly be without adverse consequences (possible longer term presidential missteps notwithstanding)?

Who knows? Funny though how a phrase like "run the table" creeps into my thinking — as if I ran the table. Yes, I've been a Phils fan for a long time, went to a game while in Philly this year; yes, I donated to Obama's campaign, advocated his candidacy on this blog, and proudly voted for him Tuesday; yes, I do my job well and try to make myself invaluable to the team at work. Clearly, though, these scenarios that affect me hugely — emotionally, economically, spiritually, professionally — are being played out by those far above my pay grade.

But still. It's been a hell of a week.

Guilty Pleasures

*Excuse the short post, but I've been cranking away on a bevy of longer ones, to begin next week, and feeling entitled.

With spring finally hitting like Manny in an option year, I've been thinking about guilty pleasures. Sure, I go in for comfort food, good wine, melancholy movies, the sort of sex during which I'm not required to do much — but when I force myself to pin down my ultimate guilty pleasure, I keep it simple.

It's this: drinking beer in the shower.

Might not sound like much, but boy, I tell you, after an exhausting hockey skate or a day of fixing up this old house — when I'm thirsty, weary, and aching — there is really just nothing I want to do more than to stand in a hot shower drinking a cold beer.

Call me what you will, but give it a shot and see if I'm wrong. I'm telling you, you get that old-school McDLT-like difference in temperature going with the internal and external refreshment, and it's really outstanding.

So, what's your ultimate guilty pleasure? Respond in comments, please.

Just This

Congratulations to the 2007 World Champion Red Sox! For those who beat the "Rocks," we salute you!