System of a Down

Cross-posted to Hockey Will Tear Us Apart.

Just as he got over the centre red line, heading towards the offensive blueline, he clearly identified McAmmond in the far corner, beginning to move behind the net, and Downie sprinted at top speed. It was clear from way before the moment of contact what he was doing and what was going to happen if McAmmond didn't alter his course. It was like watching a high-speed auto accident unfold right in front of you.

To Downie's credit, I suppose, he did stop churning his legs and began to glide, mitigating the issue of a charge to some degree. But there was never any doubt in my mind what was in Downie's mind, he was going avenge the hit he took and McAmmond was going to pay the price.

-- Bob McKenzie

On McAmmond

Current status: Dean has been released from the hospital with no serious injury. He is expected in Scotiabank Place today for treatment.

We should expect this to be a long-term injury. McAmmond has a colourful history of past concussions and with his age, his long-term brain health is the most important thing.

Dean is a huge loss for the Senators. He was such a reliable player, and even though this allows a rookie to make the team (Nikulin? Foligno?), they won't have his experience.

Also, we won the game 4-2.

Worst headline: McAmmond goes Downie.

On Downie

He's not a dirty player -- there is a difference between a calculated intent to injure, and an inability to calculate at all. Steve Downie isn't known for dirty hits, he's known for general psychotic behaviour: attacking players, beating up a rookie because the rookie refused to strip and cram into a bus bathroom. He's been suspended from the OHL more times than anyone cares to keep track.

Sure, it's to his advantage to be tenacious and edgy but there's a fine line between physical and psycho. Won't someone, anyone, sit him down and tell him that he needs to stop following his emotions and use his goddamn brain?

Shouldn't it have occured to him that this was a preseason game? Shouldn't Downie have realized that headhunting is a hyperbolic overreaction to whatever he thought wasn't being called? Shouldn't Downie have realized that he was essentially targeting whatever is left of Dean McAmmond's brain?

Shouldn't Downie have realized that he had just intentionally, violently hurt another human being and felt some sort of sympathy? Many reports are coming out that Downie was giggling as blood gurgled from Dean McAmmond's nose and mouth.

At least Colby Armstrong had the emotional intelligence to be concerned. Downie has never apologized for his actions in the OHL, even though he got his entire team's staff fired, even though he's been suspended so many times. He destroyed an entire team and never once said sorry. That's why I don't believe his "heartfelt remorse" statement after the game. He hasn't changed. He's just getting better at PR.

Downie has always been a battler on the ice, in part to answer the personal challenges he faced. His father, John Downie, was killed in an auto accident when he was driving seven-year-old Steve to an early morning practice in Everett, Ont. Ann Downie took over driving her sons, Steve and Greg, to hockey practices and maintaining the family farm in Queensville, a hamlet north of Toronto.

At age 13, Downie lost the hearing in his right ear. He wears a hearing aid off the ice. All through those life challenges, Downie displayed one stoic trait he never complained.

“After all that has happened and all he has had to overcome, you never see Steve feeling sorry for himself,” Twohey said. “He’s an upbeat kid, a positive kid who is liked by all his teammates.”

You know, Steve, saying sorry isn't the same thing as feeling sorry for yourself.

Unless someone in a mentor role takes control of Steve Downie right now, there will be bigger hits and bigger consequences to come. He has the history of violence and clearly lacks stability and emotional control. He's a psychopath!

I loathe the day I see his face on a newspaper again.

Lastly, perhaps it's beyond my concern as just a hockey fan, but I worry about Steve Downie off the ice. I don't believe that you can just "turn it off" away from the arena; that sort of rage is praticed and instilled. I wouldn't want to be around him when he gets angry.

Why I Love the Ottawa Senators

Throughout the entire scrum that followed Downie's hit, Patrick Eaves was trying to shove bodies off McAmmond, get the medical staff, and push the doctor onto the ice as fast as he could. Then he made sure we won the game for Dean with 2 assists.

Dean and Patrick are close off the ice, and the last time Patrick was knocked out, Dean literally fought for him, against Maxim Talbot.

It's us against the world.

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Nausea

[Cross-posted to Hockey Will Tear Us Apart]

I am proud of the Ottawa Senators and how far we have come, proud of our even terrible moments rehashed, embarrassing detail for embarrassing detail, in national papers, but it occurs to me that in hockey, in sports, wins are never as great as you think they will be and the losses are never as hurtful as you think. This is all just escape, a diversion from the reality of our lives, but conversely, this is reality. We make the Senators our reality; the players, Scotiabank Place, the logo, the jerseys, the T-shirts, the celebration. But when we wake up the next morning from our hang-overs, we still awake to the pile of bills, unfinished tasks, dirty dishes, soiled sheets, unfulfilled dreams, the headaches of day-to-day living. The Stanley Cup Finals hasn't changed anything. I'm not sure even the Stanley Cup can.

So then, I'm faced with the question, exactly why are there so many sports fans, waiting patiently for championships, if it serves as a mere distraction? Partying isn't a good enough answer. We party during Mardi Gras, during Spring Break, you can party any time you want. They are an excuse for civic parties and gatherings but you don't need to be a fan to get drunk and press your boobs against glass. Are they just a way for emotionally crippled people to share a communal experience, to feel a connection? Am I emotionally crippled? Am I still capable of feeling joy without the Senators?

My heart twinges whenever they step out onto the ice. But is this a Pavlovian, conditioned response or is it indicative of something deeper? I love the team, but what the hell does that mean? I love their inception, their existence on the ice, but that all crumbles when the game ends, the gear comes off and the players become themselves again. I don't know the players. They cannot possibly exist as human beings. I don't know them as human beings -- they exist in snippets and incomplete sketches.

This probably isn't the best time to be asking these questions. Nothing about this makes rational sense. This is entertainment, but it's impossible to write this off in the same category as Lost or Pirates of the Caribbean. I've found that after all these years, I'm still puzzled as to why the hell I'm here. But I am. And I still care, and I still can't bring myself to change the channel or step away from my Alfredsson T-shirt or ignore tonight's Western Conference Final. I just don't know why.

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Playoff Beards

Here's a situation I've always wondered:

What is the female equivalent of a playoff beard?

Personally, I am not letting any razors or scissors touch me. If it means not being in a bathing suit, so be it. My Senators need all the luck I can give them ...

Reply in the comments, I'm really interested in what the girls are doing.

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Breaking News: Hockey Players Have Opinions

Well, the Hockey News revealed the results of a league-wide player survey. In brackets are my comments and wild predictions at who said what.

Who is the best player in the NHL this season?
10) Erik Cole, Pavel Datsyuk, Rory Fitzpatrick [thank you!], Eric Goddard [...his mother?], Josh Green [.... his mother?], Jarome Iginla, Mike Modano, Ryan Miller, Brian Rolston and Henrik Zetterberg (1) 0.38%

Which of these under-22 players would you select as a foundation for you [sic] franchise?
5) Other -Dan Fritsche, Ryan Getzlaf [Ryan Getzlaf], Karl [sic] Lehtonen [Kari Lehtonen?], Mike Richards [Jeff Carter?] and Mathias Tjarnqvist (1) 0.4%

What’s the best thing about your job?
9) Women (5) 2%
10) Naps (3) 1.2%
...15) Trainers (1) 0.4%
16) Video Coach, Steve Summers (1) 0.4%

Who the hell is Steve Summers? Glad you asked. If I have the correct Steve Summers, he works for the radio station WFAN and covers the Rangers. Someone's ego is growing ...

What’s the worst thing about your job?
11) Working out (3) 1.2%
12) Backchecking (2) 0.81% [Hi Jason]
13) Back-to-back games (2) 0.81%
14) Protein shakes, watching video, late nights [Chris Chelios?], filling out forms [? ....] , fighting [This better not be Neiler], autographs, missed childhood, girls [.... this only works if you're asexual ..... Crosby?], money [... thank you Captain Sarcasm], Cam Janssen [Hi Tomas], getting yelled at [Pothier?], pre-game skate, coaches and being booed [Alfie?] (1) 0.4%
Finally,

To what city would you least like to be traded?
1) Buffalo Sabres (40) 16%

Just saying.

[Cross-posted to Hockey Will Tear Us Apart]

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Your Marriage

If your team is (or could be) missing the playoffs, what are you going to do?

The possibilities of my Senators missing the playoffs are remote. Therefore, I will discuss the obligations of a fan in such a hypothetical circumtance.

First, you must consider how much you believe in your team. Then, you must consider how necessary hockey is in your life. I don't expect many fans to become hockey celibate, but to the other end, I would be extremely disappointed in a fan who jumps right onto the bandwagon, without pausing to inspect for sharp nails or shoddy workmanship, without a backwards glance. I don't think fans who wholeheartedly embrace another team once their original team is absent are fulfilling their role as fans. A certain expectation of loyalty comes with the fan title.

Think about it this way: your fandom is a marriage. While your husband is in a temporary coma, there's nothing really wrong with taking note of other fine men. You are a woman, after all. However, your commitment is still with your comatose husband and he still demands your loyalty and heart.

The line is drawn at paraphernalia, the sports equivalent of a wedding ring. Embracing, say, 87 & Co. when your Panthers are out of the running to the extent that you purchase a Crosby shirt is unacceptable (... unless you black-out the Pens logo) .

In my hardened experience as a Senators fan, I've had to witness many disgraceful playoff exits. I have never jumped on another team's bandwagon, but I've hoped for a contender to win, while somehow always manipulating the reasons befitting to the Senators. I.e., I hoped for Calgary to win in '03-'04 because the Tampa Bay and Ottawa franchises were born in the same year, and having them win something before us was a nauseating thought. However, I wouldn't touch any of those flaming C's, even with Zdeno Chara's stick.

You're still allowed to be a hockey fan and enjoy the teams, but remember where your loyalties lie.

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Blonde Ambition

Which player do you secretly cheer for on the inside, even when he's playing against your team?

This really pains me. Marian Hossa. He's the only player that I hope plays well, even against the Senators.

Please don't think it's just an ex-Senators thing. I cared about Havlat and Lalime when they were with the Senators, but in their new incarnations as Blackhawks, I am indifferent, even to Havlat's wily charms. On some level, I think we hope that every player does "well" -- you know, doesn't get hurt, plays at least in a dignified fashion. (Yes, I was embarrassed for Stoll last night as he fell on the Edmonton Oilers power-play.) But with Hossa, I just want him to hold the puck on a string and dominate physically like he does when he's at his best. I want to see him streaming down the wing, I want to see him backchecking furiously, I want to see him frustrating defensemen. I care about Hossa, even now, because I feel his career with the Senators is unfinished. Unlike Lalime or Havlat, he didn't choose to leave nor was his departure incredibly needed. I feel like his career would only be complete if he finished it with the Senators ... that's why I cheer for him inside, because he still holds a bit of the Senators within him.

I still hate losing to him as he wears a different uniform, though. I'm also slightly resentful towards Thrashers fans.

Also, as crappy as Redden has been lately, he's the only player I would cheer for on the outside, even against the Senators.

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Sheldon Souray TV Interview

Some highlights:

Interviewer: "So, it must be nice knowing that every guy wants to be on your skates and that every girl wants to be on your stick."
Sheldon Souray: "No ... uh ... that's an urban legend."

Interviewer: "Which hockey players on the team are single?"
Sheldon Souray: "Myself, Chris Higgins..."
Interviewer: "I have a pen and paper, would you be willing to give me their numbers?"
Sheldon Souray: "I'll give you the wrong number, I don't want it all over the Internet."
Interviewer: "I'll just keep it for myself ... you don't have to give me anything."
Sheldon Souray: "When the red light goes off, you're welcome."

Interviewer: "So, do hockey players have a sensitive side?"

Interviewer: "But really, what did you have for breakfast this morning?"
Sheldon Souray: "A bagel, with peanut butter and jam."
Interviewer: "I'm very good at making that, so if you ever need anyone.."
Sheldon Souray: "Breakfast in bed. Perfect."

Interviewer: "No disrespect to your ex-wife, Anjelica Bridges, but how many other Baywatch babes turned you down before she finally decided to go out with you?"

Interview with Sheldon Souray

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Cherry Blossoms & Loneliness

What is your favourite thing about the NHL?

I'm going to repeat the choruses of the replies before mine: the game. Oh, the game. Turning it on, watching it in real life, seduces me into a hypnotic trance that only the threat of fire can break. Its rhythms undulate and its players don't even seem entirely human, floating over a majestic spread of ice with the grace of butterflies and cherry blossoms. I love everything about the game: its noises, scents and texture. The scraping of skates and tapping of sticks against the ice could be the soundtrack to the rest of my life, if it were possible. I'm not crazy about hockey bag smell, but I kind of like the smell of salty, stagnant sweat on human bodies. The impossibly smooth surface of the ice sets a perfect backdrop to the stitching of hockey equipment.

What is your least favourite thing about it?

I don't like the way junior hockey works to feed the NHL players. (This isn't really a complaint about how the NHL works, but since scheduling, diving, etc. have already been addressed, this is the next issue that I feel strongly about.)

I don't like that players have to move away from their homes at tender ages to pursue a career that may not even lead them anywhere. I don't like it that most hockey players don't have an education -- which doesn't make them any less of great human beings but I think they're robbed a chance of Shakespeare, Donne and Newton. Yes, the CHL may have great education packages, but I just don't think forcing a 15-year-old to juggle a hockey commitment with academics with loneliness and distance from their parents is fair.

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Friday Five

What's the last thing you bought yourself, just for fun?
Well, I found myself in Toys R Us for some reason and picked up a cute, cuddly little penguin in a box that says, "TAKE ME HOME!" I couldn't resist. I bought it and named it Sidney.

How many keys do you carry?
Two. A bike key and a house key.

If you had to sell your soul for one thing, what would it be?
... A Stanley Cup victory for the Senators.

What is one talent or skill you don't have but always wanted?
Time management.

If you could have the world's largest collection of one thing, what would it be?
Signed, game-used sticks. It's more personal than cards or jerseys and probably more useful, too.

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How I Spent My Christmas

(Note: Nathan Phillips Square is in downtown Toronto, in front of iconic City Hall.
Soon to be cross-posted at Hockey Will Tear Us Apart.)

This Christmas Eve, the family bundled up and put on the skates at Nathan Phillips Square, under the bright blue Cavalcade of Lights. It was the first skate of the winter season and already, my skates grew uncomfortably tight and my ankles started throbbing.

Still, I met someone interesting. An older gentleman, 50 maybe, with dignified white hair, laced up beside me. He started talking to me, much to my surprise. He didn't have a formal, elderly air that I expected; he was quite open and chatty. He was from Bobcaygeon (near Peterborough), wearing a Sault. Ste-Marie Greyhounds jacket and wanted to spent Christmas Eve skating because he didn't want to be with his family. ("Guilt trips, you know?" he asked. "I don't think I'm old enough to know," I replied honestly.) He actually told his mother that he had a flat tire and couldn't make the drive back home, just so he could spend the entire night skating. He'd already spent the previous day at the rink, doing laps until his hamstrings turned numb.

There was a delightful mix of skaters at Nathan Phillips Square. Couples learning to skate for the first time, holding hand and kissing once in a while; tentative beginners; flashy hockey players. A skinny boy wore a vintage Wendel Clark jersey, sparkling blue under the light. He was the flashiest, crossing the entire length of the rink in seconds and absentmindedly twirling and jumping as he turned each corner. I mentioned him to the elderly gentleman, giving my impression that he was a hockey player, maybe. "Real hockey players don't wear those jerseys," he said. He was right. As I watched the skinny boy more closely, he resembled a figure skater more than anything else. He had a graceful, fluid stride, floating effervescently down the ice and spinning about a foot in the air at each turn.

Then there was the Antoine-Vermette lookalike. When I saw his face, my blood froze. Maybe it was the lighting and the angle of his face, but his resemblance was so strong to Antoine Vermette that I purposely sat at the bench, pretending to lace up my skates, just so I could watch him spin around another lap. He certainly skated like Antoine: effortlessly, with a smoothness that startles. There was a girl with him, struggling to keep up and eventually disappearing into the shuffle as he made his laps. I knew, I knew that he couldn't possibly be Vermette. It would make no sense for any of the Senators to be in Toronto during Christmas Eve, not with a game in Ottawa and his family in Québec. But I laced up my skates and chased him anyway. He turned around to step off the ice. Far too thin, I thought. Vermette must have muscles.

Lastly, there was the sweetest little boy I would see all year. He was a scrapper, constantly falling to the ice and getting up. I saw the Ottawa Senators logo on the back of his jacket and skated over to him as he tripped and fell on his knees in front of me. I helped him up, looked in his eyes and asked, "Are you a Sens fan?"

He blinked and answered, "Yeeees."

"Good for you," I said, grinning broadly. He smiled back as children do to strangers who ask strange questions. Maybe he was visiting from Ottawa. Still, I was happy. Happy to know that in the midst of the civic heart of Toronto, a little boy still bled black, red and gold.

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A Soundtrack

Any regular reader of my blog (just me? okay!) will recognize that I slip in a lot of musical references and lyrics in posts and post titles. So this playlist thing isn't really far-fetched. Here is a compendium of some things I've referenced in the past and new songs that remind me of things Sens-related:

In no particular order,

1. OK Go! - Here It Goes Again - Yes, the infamous treadmill song. It captures the essence of the Senators' season (so far at least) -- up up ! -- down down down -- up! - down down down down -- up! up! -- down down, etc. What can a mere fan do but sit back and enjoy. [Here it goes, here it goes again/ I should've known, should've known]

2. Arcade Fire - In the Backseat - Be free from paralysis, let go and seize control of life, of a one-goal game. Apparently, the Sens still play like they're in the backseat. [I've been learning to drive/My whole life]

3. U2 - Beautiful Day - Alfie's theme, which warrants a place in here because it's Alfie. [Teach me/I swear I'm not a helpless case]

4. Bright Eyes - If Winter Ends - Yes, this emo anthem summarizes all the nasty feelings and bitterness associated with a playoff exit: whether it's the break-up with a significant other or the break-up of your team guided by the salary cap, putting this song on repeat will allow you to wallow in your own misery for an appreciable time. ['Cause if I can't make myself feel better/Then how should I expect anyone else to give a shit?]

5. Leonard Cohen - Everybody Knows - Another Alfie track. This was quoted in a post I wrote about Alfie a while ago, and my feelings haven't changed since. "When I watch Alfredsson in the playoffs, sometimes it's heartbreaking how much this gets to him. Most of the time, it's annoying. I see his face, exhuasted with effort; you cannot accuse him of not trying. And the predictable comes; he's unfocused, he loses his concentration, and he retreats ever so slightly." [Everybody knows the boat is sinking/Everybody knows the captain lied]

6. My Morning Jacket - Master Plan - It's Jim James' voice that calms me down during the most manic of playoff periods and the most panicked of regular seasons. This so-called master plan really may not exist but it's a calming affirmation that yes, things may look helpless now but the Sens have a heart and they will find a way. (Either they find a way, or I revert to listening to Bright Eyes -- sometimes twice!) [I've got a master plan, babe/I've been working on it from the start/Plugging in all of the numbers, watching it on all over the charts/Just 'cause it starts off slow, baby/Doesn't mean it don't have a heart/You'll be walking 'round showing off someday/And it'll take you right back to the start]

7. Sufjan Stevens - Jason - This haunting melodic circular song reminds me of Jason Spezza, though there's no lyrical similarities or resemblance to him whatsoever. It's just Sufjan singing, "Jason, you're the only one" over and over again. Sends chills down my spine, because I'm helplessly reminded of Jason's performance in game 5 of the ECF when he scored, SCORED when it looked like we were never going to do that again. It's moments like those that make me want to cry out, 'Oh Jason. You are the only one.' [Jason/You're the only one/Like that, you're the chosen son]

8. Stars - Ageless Beauty [Most Serene Republic Remix] - This is the song that never fails to calm me down and instill a sense of serenity. (Have you noticed that I need music to calm down, not wind up?) Serene images, serene lyrics, serene vocals, serene melody ... [On the shoreline/Time will hold its promise]

9. Leslie Feist - Inside & Out - These are the lyrics I posted when the Sens were unceremoniously dumped by Pominville. It's how I try to soothe my team's feelings and fragile psyche.

10. Joy Division - Love Will Tear Us Apart - I have this song covered by Nouvelle Vague, Squarepusher and numerous others. It is the pits of bitterness and heartbreak. This is also the song I named my blog after. You will find that I post most frequently when the Sens are losing. Coincidence? No.

When routine bites hard
And ambitions are low
And the resentment rides high
But emotions won't grow
And we're changing our ways
Taking different roads
Then love, love will tear us apart again

/

Do you cry out in your sleep?
All my failings expose?
Get a taste in my mouth
As desperation takes hold
Is it something so good
Just can't function no more?
When love, love will tear us apart again.

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Sexy's Back

The Flames -- boring, bland and the personality of cardboard. The Oilers? -- Yes, they have nice, overly excited fans, but clearly it's a case of compensation as there's really nothing there to be excited about. Buffalo? -- Ha! Call me when your team's able to grow decent facial hair!

No, girls and boys, the rest are clearly fluff and filler. I present the Senators ... fashionably late ... (I hope).

Note: Graphic intense! It's worth the trouble though.

Antoine Vermette.

(top photo from the files of this Sens fan, edited for size, hopefully she won't mind)

the mold, the David from which all other pale, Québcois imitations (i.e. Daniel Briere, supposedly; José Théodore, et. al) have sprung;

flawless, creamy skin;

heartwrenching smile ;

seems like the type to blush, if you know what I mean.

Daniel Alfredsson

"ravishingly beautiful";

Alfie in the cold at a Save-Our Sens Rally, when the Sens were endangered; Alfie taking the brunt of playoff criticism; Alfie being Alfie;

hauntingly gorgeous;

refined Swedishness (i.e. not the Beowulf-lookalike Peter Forsberg, who looks like he's just as likely to pillage your village as he is to kill a monster with his bare hands.)

golden, bronzed, Norse God.

Patrick Eaves

sexpot. sexpot. sexpot;

people will better catch on soon ... and take bigger photos of him... ;

"Sexy woman take me to your bedroom/ Let me show you how I work work work..." - DFA 1979 (RIP), Sexy Results.

Dany Heatley

the eye; the dilated eye, that expands into the sort of assymmetrical beauty of top supermodels;

wild, busy curly hair, the sort of look that he got too old to pull off but you know he'd do it if he could;

raw animal magetism when he's on the ice, lip curled and eyes blazing.

Jason Spezza

warm, easy grins and a sort of laughter that makes him easy to be around;

boyish, buyoant giggling and an easy manner;

frat-boy pretty;

has moments of quiet contemplation and determination that convince you he truly wants to be a good person.

Ray Emery

physical perfection.

there was a photo out a while ago of Emery's smooth, sculpted, tattooed chest as he was getting ink done. Where has it gone?!

Mike Fisher

piercing eyes -- flawlessly blue like the Hope Diamond

well-built, natural looking torso;

clean, fresh, trustworthy.

Wade Redden

fig. 1-a: Redden's demonstration of how to mentally visualize undressing the viewer and make everyone nervous (and a little bit turned-on);

smouldering;

cheekbones of a Greek God.

Anton Volchenkov

positively cherubic;

"hair-cut of a fourth-grader".

Alas, the Senators' previous hot quotient has been diluted into the league. But since there are no Atlanta or Chicago fans, I will include them as Senators, because in their hearts, they know they truly are. (Also, I've noticed that people tend to like either Heatley or Havlat ... but not both. Being of the Heatley persuasion, this is also a diplomatic gesture.)

Martin Havlat

skanky sexpot;

unwashen, unshaven, lumberjackesque charm;

appears to be filthy in bed.


Marian Hossa

purely angelic.

Zdeno Chara

height of a giraffe, grace of a ballerina, teeth of a vagrant; hands of mercy!

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In which I finally stop crying.

SENATORS 4 at THRASHERS 5

I watched most of this game through TVU and I honestly am beyond the point of anger and exasperation. I am beyond throwing things at the screen or screaming someone's name in agony. I have reached the point where I see the utter absurdity that is this team; hallelujah, girls and boys, I have exhausted my entire regular season emotional reserve.

And this was the game that did it. It started out relatively benign -- someone on HFboards pointed this out, actually, and it's an apt description: this game was the history of the Ottawa Senators in 60 minutes.

In the first period, they play well, great, building up an optimistic lead. This has been our regular season. In the second period, they are clawed, forced to fight, and don't come out looking too great but somehow barely hang on. This has been the first round of the playoffs. In the third period, we witness a meltdown of either

a) the entire team or b) goaltending,

which is rather spectacular and amazing in and of itself to observe. The magnitude and magnificance of the ways in which this team can fail is utterly captivating; I would make the case that the Senators are the most interesting team to watch night and night out in the NHL right now. We've failed by complete meltdown, surrendering a 3-0 lead; we've failed by blow-out; we've failed by overtime goals; we've failed by special teams. Really, no lead is safe when we play and you always know that we'll find a way to come crumbling down in a spectacular fashion, much like how an elephant trips and stumbles on a tack or Jenga blocks ....

The kicker, the most unique thing about this team, is that in our last two losses, we've actually chased out the opposition's goaltender and proceeded to get shut-out by their replacement and actually LOSE. This isn't even divine punishment anymore, it's just absurdity. It's absurdity in the most existentialist way I've experienced: there is no meaning in any of this.

Really, watch the Ottawa Senators. It's your lesson in the possible ways of losing.

Cross-posted at Hockey Will Tear Us Apart.

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"If you loved me, you'd win."

Share your earliest hockey memory and why you stuck with the boys. I mean, game.

My earliest hockey memory is skating at Mel Lastman Square, the outdoor rink situated right beside Toronto's Central Library. My parents would drop me off and I'd browse for a few books, then plunk myself down and squeeze myself into the skates. Maybe that's why I've always inexplicably linked hockey with literature. I'd skate for laps and laps until I couldn't feel my feet.
I was a goaltender in the first game I'd ever played and though I played other positions after that, I got bored with them. I like goaltending because there's no sense of utter control -- you're always forced to react and be on the defensive and in a way, you have to assert utter control. I stopped playing hockey regularly way too early for my liking and now that I'm saddled with full courses and silly things to learn, I miss it. Watching it and living it through your team is just never quite the same as getting into your own skates and settling into a quiet rhythm that you can still feel days, after. Skating is one of the purest pleasures (once you get past falling); it feels like floating.

I stuck with hockey because -- well, because I loved it then and I love it now. In a way, my love of hockey and my love of the NHL is separate because one is undying and one depends on my patience and schedule.

Well, growing up in Toronto, you're assumed a Leaf fan until proven otherwise. People don't ask. They assume. I'd lived nervously with this assumption for years until I was conscious enough to choose something else. I'd lived years with watching Leaf hockey and having such mild feelings towards them that I really stopped caring. The day I knew I was no longer a part of Toronto's Leaf contingent was the day I realized I wouldn't care if the Leafs won the Stanley Cup. And this is the Stanley Cup.

I don't know what really drew me to the Senators; it wasn't a conscious choice. I suppose some things just happen due to a convergence or confluence of a lot of things. It was in the 2003 playoffs and the Leafs had just made an exit. The Ottawa Senators were playing the Philadelphia Flyers and it was magic. Marian Hossa, Daniel Alfredsson, Martin Havlat -- I fell into a flurry, hard and fast, memorizing every line and every tidbit of history and every story on the Senators I could possibly get my hands on. It must've only been a month or two before May 23 2003 but it felt like an eternity. And the hurt inflicted on me, from Jeff Friesen and Grant Marshall, has numbed but not disappeared with each season, growing into a deeper sense of heartbreak.

Hockey is comfort; being a hockey fan is hurt. And that is what I have learned. (Yes, that is why "hockey will tear us apart.")

So, this has grown to be sort of off-topic, but I hope it's amusingly off-topic.

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My tattered flag.

Alright, I'm guilty of slacking off. I won't be caught up right away, but I'm going to at least respond to last week's topic because I have it ready:

Take a photo (or draw with your mouse) the biggest dedication to something hockey related you have/own.

This tattered banner is something I've had since my beginning days as a Senators fan. As you can see, old numbers and crossed out numbers are on it. Some numbers have changed meaning and I had to add some, though I ran out of space so I kept it like that.

This tattered banner was a symbol of defiance in my community. This baby was threatened with spit, death, cursing, and carnage. It has been through 5 playoff failures, 1 fit of anger in which I attempted to cross out Patrick Lalime's number with a pen and 1 phase of utter optimism in which I attempted to cover the entire banner with the names of the teams we beat ... until the Sens lost and I thought I was cursing them. So that ended there. You can still see a little bit from the text in the upper right corner.

This tattered banner also has, symbolically, three layers of hockey tape holding it up at the back.

Also, I do not despise Meszaros -- I just hated Bonk.

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I do not sell drugs to kids!

AQUIETGIRL - HOCKEY WILL TEAR US APART

Where you're from, what you do - basic things.

I was once described by someone as, "a quiet girl." Obviously, this is inaccurate.

I have never lived in Ottawa -- this has lead to questions about my loyalties to the Senators and Toronto alike. (No, I don't alienate myself on purpose.) Toronto is an easy place to pick on: from what I've experienced, we're nothing but greedy Bay Street suits walking down the street, strutting like we're New Yorkers as we viciously refuse to help a homeless, alcoholic, drug addict. I've shown my love for the city before in my blog, but my situation as a Senators fan in Toronto is usually too complicated to explain to people around me in a reasonable amount of time. Like the affable Jeff O'Neill and George W. Bush have recently brought into our culture, "It is what it is." Well-said, gentlemen.

Besides hockey, I love photography and travelling. I'm in my last year of high school and lost and helpless, as of now, for what to do for the next four years of my life. My enduring dream in life is to be a medical doctor, a sailor and the Hunter S. Thompson of hockey.

Your team and why you like them
The Ottawa Senators, because there is no other truth than that. Everything is meaningless.

Really, the TV was on, the universe was in a symphony and I fell in love. It was Jason Spezza's choppy stride, it was the way the players chewed on their gloves. It was too many years ago to remember exactly how it happened.

I love my team because they are my team -- but beyond this truism, the Ottawa Senators' personality and complex psyche gives me the impression of a man who once believed himself governed by destiny and fate, then found out that God hated him because he ran over His dog. You know?

Your least favourite team and why?
You were all expecting me to say it and I will say it. The Toronto Maple Leafs make my life difficult. I love Toronto too much to think of cities embodied purely in sporting teams, because now I know that Toronto is not a perennial, overweight, old loser on the verge of celebrating 40 years of ineptitude. Uh, that and Leaf fans hated me first. So.

Your favourite player of all time & now?
My favourite player of now is Wade Redden. I love his inability to string together a sentence that is not a cliche or incomprehensible. I like it that he speaks quietly.

UPDATE: I just caught Reds on ET Canada and I am horrified. You sad man, you. You broke my heart 3 years ago and you have the nerve to sing Adam Sandler (poorly, I might add) to a trashy tabloid?! We are so on a break!

I don't have a favourite player of all-time.

If you had to punch one hockey player or member of the NHL organisation, who and why?
Owen Nolan. I also wish to eat his ear and his children. He knows what he did.

What you'll be looking forward in this group blog.
Female perspectives! Humour! Wit! I suppose the three are synonymous.

What you don't like in general?
Seafood, with the exception of salmon and Boston Skate Wings, which I grossly misinterpreted at first.

What role do female fans play in keeping the game alive?
Uh, the same role that female do in general: reproduce like bunnies and use sex as power.

More seriously, our role is the same as any other fan, only we have the duty of keeping the boys in line because sometimes they get way too full of themselves. We are here to whack them into shape, if you will. There's more to hockey than dry statistics and a series of failures. Female fans are generally more perceptive to the personality than male fans. That and we, as a gender, are generally superior, thus improving the intelligence of the discourse. (Ha!)

Then again, there are those of us that exposed ourselves shamelessly in Calgary. Ew. Didn't they know that Jarome Iginla was watching? Jarome Iginla is a sexless, cuddly big brother. You don't do that with your big brother watching!

What role do female fans play in picking heroes for the community?
By hero, I assume you don't mean sex icon.

I think female fans have as much of a role as male fans in picking heroes. We're all fans, in the sense that we want to be respected by the player and see him contribute back to his community.

Hockey just isn't the same without Roger Neilson. Now that man had personality.

If you were on a deserted island, which player would you pick to stay with you?
Crosby, Ovechkin or Phaneuf (hey he tried!)?
Phaneuf's too cocky for his own good. Ovechkin, despite all his charm, remains a foreigner. I'd choose Sidney Crosby because he'd remind me of home.

The player you'd like to take for a grand night out/a movie/a boring event
I'd take Martin Brodeur because he knows how to behave.
I'd take Antoine Vermette with me to a movie because he's quiet and a good movie always fills the silence well.
I'd take Jason Spezza with me to a boring event because he could just giggle a little and then I'd laugh and we'd never stop being obnoxious.

If you could make your own team, regardless of whatever players, what would it be called and where will it be/how would it be like?
Uh, it'd be the Ottawa Senators and all the major deities would play on it. They'd all be contractually obligated to win. Otherwise, they're out of the family!

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