DETROIT — Red Wings defenseman Chris Chelios will be sidelined three to six weeks with a fractured shin bone. The team says Chelios was injured while blocking a slap shot during the third period of Tuesday night’s 2-1 preseason loss to Montreal. On Wednesday, he was maneuvering around Joe Louis Arena on crutches. According to the Detroit News, the shot hit his right leg, below the knee.
Also according to the Detroit News, Chelios hates everything but Matlock. Ooh! It’s on now!
Every year around this time, you and your buddies gather and your local bar/pub/igloo (Canadians only) to conduct a fantasy draft. Somewhere around 11 or 12, you’re left with a dilemma. You could either roll the dice on a better player on a bad team (read: Nathan Horton, FLA), or a proven name who, well, did all of his proving on your Sega Genesis more than a decade ago. This isn’t like fantasy baseball, where you may get lucky and get 180 innings out of an aging Mike Mussina or Randy Johnson. This is hockey, damn it. If you’re an old forward, you might as well buy a nice suit and start angling for plush assistant coaching positions with your current club.
I remembering seeing Mission: Impossible in the theater some 12 years ago. (What else was I going to go see? The Pallbearer?) Looking back, I remember two main things about the flick. First – it pushed the envelope action-wise, and left us with at least one iconic spy scene (you know, when Tom Cruise casts his Scientology magic to hover above a shiny kitchen floor.)
Second – I have no idea what the fuck went on in this movie.
If you asked me to explain the plot of the movie now, in 2008, I could probably describe some visuals for you, name drop a few of the actors, and provide you with the most basic of information. I would feel as if I did my job selling the movie to you, but both you and I know, I have no idea what the hell I’m talking about. I’m still not sure if Jon Voight was a good guy or a bad guy. (Based on my Varsity Blues bias, however, I’m going to assume bad guy.)
In essence, this is my opinion when it comes to the once and current NHL.com. It seems like most of the basic things you’d want out of a league’s website are there, and you can get enough information to sound like you know what you’re talking about. Other than that, it’s a backwards-logic, confusing implosion of hockey.
Good news, sports fans. The NHL feels your pain, and has come out with a sequel.
In my morning NHL story trolling, I came upon a minor note that the Phoenix Coyotes have added former Sens GM John Muckler to their executives’ box, as he has been anointed the senior adviser to the GM. To my knowledge, having the role of Senior Advisor to the GM instead of actually being the GM has two perks. First, you get to stand against the wall in personnel meetings cross-armed and simply nod your approval or disapproval on any potential transaction. Secondly, you get to ramble on about how hard it was during the war without being told to shut up. I’m telling you, being old has its perks.
Now I don’t know exactly old Mucks is, but that’s only because the Canadian Press article I pulled from TSN.ca didn’t exactly spell it out. (I’m lazy.) But the only reason the Canadian Press article I pulled from TSN.ca didn’t exactly spell it out is because Muckler’s Wikipedia page didn’t do the math for them.
Team sources recently revealed that the Flyers’ reserve netminder Antero Niittymaki will be out upwards of six weeks getting a repair on a torn hip labrum. Excellent timing, Antero. You spent all summer sitting on your couch in Helsinki playing XBox, and you’ve finally gotten around to healing the one part of you that allows lateral movement when you’re no doubt lying on the ice amidst a chaotic scene in the crease.
So rather than call up a Phantom to play every seventh game (Marty Biron, you’re going to be busy), the Flyers have further put that cap in danger by signing a real-live NHL goaltender to fill the void. That’s right, Jean-Sebastien Aubin is coming to town.
Oh, and he’s a heroin addict.
And now, a personal story from the life of Hex.
One week ago yesterday, our family had a little addition. Of course, the original expected date was last Tuesday, but waiting an extra 24 hours for something that would bring such joy into the world – it was grueling, but ultimately worth it. I’m telling you, if you could see the proud smile on my face when we got home for the first time. Sure, you can anticipate sleeping a lot less, and your eating schedule will become far from regular- but ultimately, much is sacrificed when you bring NHL 09 into your home-
What’s that? Oh, a baby? Due the same week EA Sports releases their latest Game of the Year? You’ve got to plan your pregnancies a little better than that, friendo.
After the jump, a crushing revelation for the oldest blueliner on the Detroit Red Wings.
Amidst all of the Philadelphia Eagles are the Second Coming of..(well, whatever pick-up team Jesus picked at recess and used to smite the 4th grade) was the news that Eric Lindros has declined an invitation to join all of the Flyers’ other captains in a historic pre-season game to be held at the soon- to-be-demolished Spectrum. Yes, this was Big E’s big chance to stand in front of his former fans and hope for his 2005 Buckner moment, when all is forgiven. Way to stiff a fanbase, 88. It’s pretty unlikely that’ll ever happen now-
WHOA WHOA WHOA HERE COMES SCOTT STEVENS WATCHOUT!!!
You know who else has got to be pissed? How about every teammate who donned the orange and black alongside him during his captaincy years (1994-2000)? Clearly, one of the perks of being the captain was that someday they might knock down the arena your team once won the Cup in, and it’s possible they’d invite the captains to stand at center ice one last time as a tribute to the team’s legacy. I can come up with a half-dozen deserving guys that would have gladly been captain because they wouldn’t turn down a fucking invitation to be remembered greatly.
So while you mourn a memorial service for someone who died weeks ago, we’ll all be after the jump offering invitations to your old teammates, one for each year you wore that C.