Rose Rankin – Page 13 – Faxes from Uncle Dale

It’s a good thing this game started at 7, because honestly, staying awake through this crapfest was hard enough—had it gone any longer I, and probably most of the people who showed up at the UC, wouldn’t have made it. You would think that a game with back-and-forth scoring that went to a ridiculously drawn-out shootout would be an exciting affair, but you would be wrong. Except for brief flashes of effort, neither team really looked like they half a shit. The level of play was equally lackadaisical and as exciting as one would expect because of that. To the bullets:

–The shootout went on for what felt like 14 rounds, and fortunately Schmaltz’s goal was enough to eke out the win. Anton Forsberg actually had a good game, despite giving up goals right after the Hawks had scored (neither of which were entirely his fault, as usual). He made clutch saves on Marion Gaborik, who inexplicably came to life in the third, and he made just enough stops in the shootout. He finished with a .941 SV% and even got to be the second star of the game, which warmed my cold, blackened heart.

–Out of the sleepwalking there were other guys who had a decent night. Carl Dahlstrom played mostly intelligently at the blue line, and he ended the night with a 52.6 CF% while taking 55% of his starts in his own zone. Top Cat of course scored a shootout goal that should have ended the game, and well before that he made excellent passes that would have been assists had they been to anyone more competent than Brent Seabrook and Ryan Hartman.

–Patrick Kane was involved in both goals: on the first, Our Cousin Vinny made a pass that was spot on, and Kane picked up his own rebound; on the second he assisted on Wide Dick’s goal where Arty managed to sneak behind Karlsson. But, both times the Hawks scored they gave it right back all too quickly, and Kane also stood by and literally watched as Duchene sped past him and scored the tying goal, so there was that. His shootout goal was appreciated, but don’t go thinking Kane’s give-a-shit meter was anywhere above the “Ah, fuck it” level.

–The power play remained dismal, with their only two chances being entirely useless.

–Overall, it was a back-and-forth of two bad teams, where one just sucked a little bit less than the other. However, we have to cherish each win because who knows when another one may come along. The Hawks have gotten beat by shitty teams enough times this season; if we can be on the other end of it for once, we should appreciate it. And hey, maybe some teams were impressed with Anisimov’s goal and will put more thought towards taking that contract off our hands. A girl can dream…

Everything Else

What We’re Talking About When We Talk About Patrick Kane

By Rose Rankin February 16, 2018 3939 0

Last Wednesday on Valentine’s Day, that most holy of Hallmark holidays, the Hawks did something incredibly stupid even for them, with their tweet of Patrick Kane clad in rainbows pushing their Hockey is for Everyone night, which took place during Thursday’s game against the Ducks. (For this event, or promotion, or whatever it should be called, the Hawks hosted a women’s hockey team from a majority-Muslim country as well as sled hockey players who will compete in the Paralympics; a nod to diversity, two thumbs up, yay team.)

Sam very thoroughly analyzed why it’s total bullshit to use Kane as the face of feel-good initiatives like this, and there is a current running underneath this kind of dumbfuckery (I won’t excuse it with a term like “tone-deafness”) that demonstrates how teams, and this league in general, are seemingly impervious to change or actual morality.

You see, every time I see a man like this, a man who is strongly suspected of having violated a woman, a man who uses his popularity and fame to get out of paying for that violation, or at the very least uses them to dispel and ignore the allegation, it reminds me, and so many women like me, of how they get away with what they did—how they have the ability to act with impunity. The reason this cultural moment has been so refreshing is because these men who had been protected in entertainment, tech, and other industries are finally facing consequences for their actions. But the sports world, and the NHL in particular, remains apart.

Their impunity reminds me that there is a power structure and an economy behind it that values them more than other human beings—certainly more than someone like me. It reminds me that these men face far fewer questions, and are asked for far fewer details and answers about what happened, and instead there is an entire industry of apologists and sycophants (not to mention lawyers) at their disposal, while for the women they terrorized there is derision, dismissal, and misplaced guilt.

And it reminds of when it was me. Thrown onto a bed with wrists held down. Panic, and an inability to move that I didn’t think was possible. Wrists pressed into the mattress, why won’t my legs work? Why can’t I kick? How did he get my underwear off so fast, I haven’t even moved? I was fortunate that at the last second I felt my forearms come alive. I pushed against that weight on top of me just enough—there was a moment’s hesitation and that was all I needed. I squirmed out from under and hit the floor hard. My knees against cold wood.

It’s been 16 years, and sometimes it feels very far away. Sometimes it feels as close as my morning commute was today. And when they trot out these men as role models, as objects of affection even, in my mind’s eye I’m back on that bed. Every time I see something like a cheesy Valentine’s wallpaper with Patrick Kane’s picture that the Hawks are pushing, or Drew Doughty’s toothless mug grinning at me from an NHL ad, I see it. I see the face of the cop called to the apartment by a neighbor who heard me screaming, a cop who scolded me for dating such a monster but had helplessness in his eyes because my attacker had left, so there was nothing he could do but point out my bruises. I feel my knees on that floor, and in my ears I hear being whispered the questions everyone asks of the women, women like me: “Well what was she doing there?” I was in my own home. “She shouldn’t have been wearing that.” I was in an ankle-length skirt. “Was she drunk?” I was painfully sober.

But even if my answers were different, even if the answers from the women Kane, Doughty, or anyone else is suspected of attacking were completely different, even if I or any of them were out late at night at a bar wearing a bikini and drunk off our asses, it still doesn’t absolve the perpetrator who violates another human. If a drunk man in a banana hammock was raped late at night after leaving a bar that wouldn’t be acceptable, so why are we asking women those questions?

I know that women’s safety isn’t the crusade or the mandate of a professional sports league, nor am I saying it should be. What I am saying is that when you flaunt that type of man, you make a mockery of any attempt at inclusiveness or even basic humanity.

Patrick Kane plays hockey and the Hawks will continue to pay him to do so, as is their right. But is this what they want to be? Is this the message they want to send to women like me and, just as importantly, to men who can see all the benefits of getting away with it? Whether it’s a day that is ostensibly about love, Hallmark holiday though it may be, or a PR campaign nominally about inclusiveness (which in itself sidesteps the acknowledgment of Black History Month), holding up Patrick Kane as the cover boy goes beyond being out of touch. We all know who he is—is this who they are as well? I’m left with no other answer but that it is.

Everything Else

Game #58 Out of Nine Lives, I’ve Spent Seven – Hawks 2, Ducks 3

By Rose Rankin February 15, 2018 2352 0

Hockey Stats

An eight-game losing streak. A two-goal lead squandered. Numbers are not our friend right now. To the bullets:

–We basically saw a unicorn tonight: Keith scored on a power play (a sentence I was beginning to think I’d never write). Saad also got a goal for the first time since early January. It’s hard to know which one to be more excited about, if one thinks they warrant excitement. Keith took a hard shot from the point early in the second, on a tripping penalty drawn by Top Cat (more on him later). Saad’s was exactly the type of goal he needed to maybe get his confidence going. It was off a beautiful pass from Our Cousin Vinny, and Gibson belly-flopped leaving Saad with a wide open net to just taaaaap it in. Both goals happened in the first half of the second period and things were looking up.

–And then the defensive breakdowns came. Forsberg held up well during the first, including when Keith went all shinpads which led to a breakaway that he (Forsberg) stopped. But Murphy and Kempny both fumbled and allowed turnovers that directly led to Ritchie’s and Kase’s goals. As someone who has sung the praises of both Murphy and Kempny and argued LOUDLY for them to remain in the lineup, I naturally cringed at these plays, not so much because I thought they were particularly egregious (anyone seen the play of Jordan Oesterle lately?), but because I’m afraid both will get benched for making mistakes. It certainly wasn’t their best game, not for either one of them—Murphy managed to end the night with a 55 CF% but had the bad turnover, and Kempny only finagled a 41.4 CF%. But I still don’t want to see talented guys who just need some confidence, and probably some predictability, get fucked over by the Q Double Standard. To wit, Kempny managed to lay out and break up a 3-on-1 in the first, but you know Q won’t be thinking about that when the time comes for Saturday’s lineup.

Oh, and on that note, Seabrook was a mix of dumb and unlucky on the go-ahead goal by Henrique in the third. The puck took some bizarre bounces and he was left standing there rather helplessly…think he’ll be in the press box again? Hahahaha, I know, funny joke amirite??

–The Ducks falling all over each other in an attempt to beat up Hartman, who was smart enough to not engage, was truly peak Anaheim. Hartman leveled Silfverberg late in the second but it was a clean hit. Manson & Co. couldn’t jump his ass fast enough, and despite Hartman playing it cool he still got called for roughing, which was yet another example of shitty calls not going the Hawks’ way lately. Of course it’s impossible to know what could-have-might-have happened if the Hawks had had a four-minute power play, but it was a bullshit call nonetheless.

–Foley and Eddie couldn’t stop drooling all over Tommy Wingels and Lance Bouma, but I’m here to tell you they sucked. If the Hawks were trying to showcase their wares in the trade marketplace (which I sincerely hope they were and I have to tell myself this is the reason they were playing on the top two lines), it probably backfired by reminding everyone how un-skilled they really are. I lost track of how many opportunities Bouma floundered away—a feed to Kane in the first, a pass from Hinostroza in the second, and on and on and on. The only silver lining of putting them on the top lines for this game is that thanks to the outcome, Q’s blender will dump them back in the bottom six.

–While we’re searching for silver linings, the kids once again showed us that there is hope. None of the younglings scored a goal, but Hinostroza set up Saad perfectly, he and Schmaltz had excellent speed throughout the game, and Top Cat was as good as we’ve come to expect. In the first, he was smart enough to stall on a delayed penalty while Anaheim was on a power play, effectively killing the penalty and extending what would become a Hawks power play. It’s the little things now where we have to find happiness.

–We’ve been saying it’s a goalie league, and this game was living proof. Forsberg wasn’t terrible but he got beat by Gibson being better, the latter of whom made a huge stop late in the third on Saad, and ended the night stopping 42 of 44 shots for a .955 SV%.

Well, this is where we are these days. Tonight they (again) didn’t play terribly, and for the most part they showed up and gave it the ‘ole college try. But sometimes it’s not enough, and this is one of those times. Onward and upward.

Everything Else

Game #55 I Know What I Want But I Just Don’t Know How to Go About Gettin’ It – Hawks 0, Wild 3

By Rose Rankin February 10, 2018 2898 0

Hey, the bottom-feeding Coyotes came back against the Wild and erased a 3-goal lead, maybe the Hawks could do it too? Hahaha, that’s adorable. To the bullets:

–It’s a familiar tune, but tonight the Hawks could. not. finish. They destroyed the Wild in shots (in just the first they led 17-5), ending the game with a mind-numbing 44 to the Wild’s 19. If only this were the number that mattered. Whether it was Toews in the first fumbling a point-blank shot, Our Cousin Vinny missing on a one-timer off a Kampf faceoff win in the second, or Kampf later that same period whiffing on a backhand on an open net, none of the Hawks could capitalize on any of the chances they had. In the third period they had a 91.7 CF% and yet did not score. They finished with eight high-danger chances, which isn’t a crazy high number, but it’s still a decently sized handful of good chances they choked on.

–Which leads to a related point: Devan Dubnyk had a damn good game. A lot of the Hawks’ mistakes were missing the net or just plain fucking up, but when a guy faces 44 shots and gets a shutout, you gotta tip your cap.

–Foley and Konroyd worked REALLY hard to convince us and themselves that the Hawks played well in the first, but that’s not exactly accurate. Yes, they led in shots and they were well ahead in possession, but they did jack shit with two minutes of a 5-on-3, after Marcus Foligno picked a fight with Lance Bouma in a show of sheer uselessness and stupidity. We all know the power play sucks, but at that point the game was still, well, a game, and a goal would have tied it at one. Blowing those types of opportunities is what this season has been all about, and while of course we don’t know what would have transpired even if the Hawks had scored there, they could at the very least have ended the first down by one instead of two. It may have ended tied. Either way, their incompetence on special teams was extra egregious tonight. Another example (in case you needed one): in the second while on the power play for Cullen’s hook on Kampf, the Wild started a 2-on-1 against Oesterle and Nick Schmaltz busted his ass in a sort-of backcheck which broke up the developing disaster. That was literally the best play they had on that man advantage.

–Oh, and Glass Jeff sucked. I get it that after Forsberg let in that Pitlick goal that Q was all too happy to bench his ass, but Glass gave up three goals on 19 shots. That equals out to a stellar .842 SV%. But tell me again about what a great story he is, and also let’s destroy any remaining confidence Forsberg may have had by punishing him for a stupid mistake.

–So Carl Dahlstrom started in his first NHL game, and at this point I’m all for getting a young defenseman some experience. But not at the expense of Michal Kempny for fuck’s sake. With Rutta being out they could have played Murphy with Keith, or Kempny with Keith and let Murphy babysit Oesterle, or they could have sat Oesterle all together and replaced him with Dahlstrom; there were so many other options! Dahlstrom ended the night with a 54.5 CF% and wasn’t particularly good or bad either way (understandable), but Oesterle was generally worthless. He truly can’t do shit QB’ing a power play. Q’s infatuation with and confidence in this guy—as opposed to his disdain for both Kempny and Murphy—is reaching TVR status. It’s not quite there yet, but it’s close.

–At one point Lance Bouma was on a line with Kane. That should tell you all you need to know about the misplaced priorities of this coaching staff and the quality of play right now. Bouma proved he could be a punching bag for a moron and since he didn’t start crying he gets to play on the second line? Yeah, that’s what this team needs to turn things around.

I’m not gonna tell you that NOW IS THE TIME that the Hawks have to start winning if they’re going to have a shot at the playoffs, because we all know that time has passed and where this season is going. It was a frustrating night just on its own—we don’t need to pile on unrealistic expectations too and decry how it didn’t meet them. It wasn’t going to in the first place.

Everything Else

I’ve Got No Expectations to Pass Through Here Again

By Rose Rankin February 9, 2018 1755 0

**A break from our regularly scheduled Hawks programming**

Around these parts we all ourselves Real Fans Program, essentially embracing our status as regular-ass people following the team we love and writing what we see from that perspective. This approach has always appealed to me because “fan” is all that I am vis-à-vis my teams (spoiler alert: I never played hockey. @ me from now on if you must). So while gallivanting around Europe recently I was curious what it’s like to be a so-called real fan somewhere else in this world. Fortunately, Stockholm’s SHL team, Djurgårdens (pronounced: YER-garden) was in town when my husband and I were there, so I put on my best anthropologist hat and was DEFINITELY not just looking for a place to drink. Here’s what I found:

In enemy territory. You know how the Predators organ-I-zation gets all butthurt about the number of Hawks fans at their games and they restrict ticket sales to non-Nashville residents? Well, it turns out they’re not alone in this endeavor, but of course because it’s the idiot Predators they do it all wrong. Last Thursday, Djurgårdens played Luleå (pronounced: I have no fucking clue, loo-LEY-ah probably, but I swear these are real words), and all the Luleå fans sat in one section. Actually it was one slice of Hovet arena, a triangle of people from the lower to the upper bowl but in very defined borders.

We didn’t have to specify where we’re from when we bought the tickets (which we actually did have to do for an Italian soccer game earlier in the week, but that’s another story), so I’m not sure if this self-sorting is planned in advance, or if there was information marked on the seating chart, or instructions that we most certainly could not read in Swedish.

Regardless of the process, the result was the concentration of the visitor’s fans in one area, which honestly, if Nashville or some other NHL club were to instigate such a policy, would probably be more fun than sitting with a bunch of random Predators fans.

The opposite of this group was, for lack of a better term, the home team’s super-fans, who were based at the end of the ice (think behind the visitor’s net at the UC, from the 100s to the 300s). Since the visitor’s fans were in one section, by default all the other sections were Djurgårdens fans, but this group at the end of the stadium was the flag-waving, singing, chanting hardcore fans. And these weren’t any three-syllable, easy-singalong chants we’re used to here, such as the ever-pithy “Let’s Go Hawks” as Tommy Hawk wails away on some crappy hand-held drum that looks like a prop from a racially insensitive Western. No—these chants changed cadences, had distinct melodies, and while the fans would repeat a verse for a few minutes, they never repeated the same chant.

When Djurgårdens was on a power play, the song changed. At the start of the second period, it differed from the one at the start of the game. Even goal-celebration songs differed. Djurgårdens scored twice, and after the first goal the song was to the tune of Jingle Bells, I shit you not. After the second goal, though, it was something completely different. And both were a hell of a lot better than stupid-ass Chelsea Dagger but that also is another story.

I don’t speak Swedish (obviously), so the fans very well could have been repeating words and phrases, but the Super Fans moved smoothly from one melody to the next, solely driven by some common understanding of what to do next from the repertoire.

The visitor’s fans, hemmed into their section across the stadium, did the exact same thing, albeit with smaller numbers and slightly fewer flags (holy shit, the flags at these European sports games, why are they so into them?). The result was a reverberation of chants and songs that mirrored the change in momentum on the ice.

Wait for the whistle. My stomping ground at the UC for many years was section 326, and as anyone who’s been up in those rowdy sections knows, you WILL get heckled for walking around during play. At Hovet, however, heckling wasn’t necessary because nobody moved from their seat unless it was intermission. And I mean nobody. A few stragglers came to their seats late, but there was no going to the bathroom, even during the brief TV timeouts when they shoveled the ice (done by dudes, not scantily clad women).

There were no beer runs and no vendors walking around because you could only drink in the two designated bar areas on the concourses. Given the intensity of the fanbases and all those damn flags, maybe restricting alcohol consumption is a good thing, but for me used to my $12 Bud Lights bought at leisure throughout the game it was a catastrophe minor inconvenience. Confused yet compliant, we crammed into the bar area where everyone pounded a beer during intermission, but I couldn’t deny the entire crown had a remarkable attentiveness throughout the actual periods of the play.

Shut up, Lana, what about the game? So what was the actual game like, you say? Well, Djurgårdens’s shitty zone entries reminded me of watching the Hawks, to be honest. They won 2-1, with the game-winning goal kind of a fluky play where the puck dribbled past the goal line under pads. It just proved that teams everywhere need luck as much as they do skill. The pace was extremely fast for both teams, and it was nearly 10 minutes into the first before there was any type of whistle, eventually happening for an icing. The rink was NHL-sized, and although Luleå got a late goal in the 3^rd, Djurgårdens held on for the win.

Anything else? The crowd was overwhelmingly male. Like by a 3-1 margin. It was a more skewed sex ratio than you find at an Umphrey’s McGee show. I have no hypothesis for why this was—with what we know about gender equality in Sweden I figured women would be just as interested in a hockey game as men (and I saw plenty of men pushing strollers while I was in Stockholm). It’s not exactly an apples-to-apples comparison, but the aforementioned soccer game in Italy was almost an even mix. Granted, Djurgårdens played on a weeknight and Roma on was a Sunday, so maybe that was a factor? Unfortunately I couldn’t ask any Swedish women without looking like a totally weird foreigner (which I already did).

Oh, and the arena had good pizza, like legitimately good thin crust. So that doughy, uncooked Connie’s crap at the UC can fuck off.

Photo credit: difhockey.se (My pictures from the game were terrible and as much I would like to make you look at my vacation pictures, it’s probably a fire-able offense).

Everything Else

Game #53 Do I Believe in God? Do I Believe in Me? – Hawks 2, Flames 3

By Rose Rankin February 6, 2018 2858 0

This was a painful one tonight. The Hawks actually played well, managing to lead in possession in all three periods and dominate in shots, and even Glass Jeff had a good night (and you know how I feel about that guy as a starter, so this should tell you something about his performance). I don’t like to scream at refs and blame bad calls because everyone gets bad calls, and it usually all comes out a wash. That wasn’t exactly the case tonight, but I’m still not going to scream. I might cry in a dark room, though. To the bullets:

–Let’s not bury the lede: the Hawks basically were unlucky/got screwed by a call on a truly bizarre play. What would have been their second goal, taking place about midway through the second period, was called back after not one but two reviews, the first from the “war room,” the second from a coach’s challenge by Calgary. Hartman and Jurco were scrambling in the crease, and while TJ Brodie was assaulting Hartman, Mike Smith lunged at him (Hartman), and in the ensuing scrum the puck managed to trickle in. It was impossible to see if it was kicked in with any kind of distinct motion, and aside from a deflection off Hartman’s glove, the puck couldn’t be seen in the mess of bodies and equipment.

This is why the call on the ice of a goal wasn’t overturned by Toronto, but Smith, knowing that Oscar season is coming up, turned in a performance that was enough to get the goal overturned the second time through. The concept of goalie interference has become a complete joke, from Bettman’s shruggy-emoji comments the other day to the nonsensical calls on the ice in various games that get stupider by the day. Nice work, NHL.

–As alcohol-consumption-inducing as that sequence turned out to be, it was precipitated by some actual quality plays at the blue line. Jurco kept the puck in the zone as he was leaving the penalty box and jumping in, and his shot started the entire process (albeit with a point-blank fuck up by Garbage Dick). Seconds later Kempny made a great keep that led to the net-front scramble. As someone used to seeing the Hawks at the blue line resemble a sieve where the holes are too large and draining spaghetti leads to maddening leakage that you’re helpless to stop, this was encouraging.

–In the end, though, it didn’t matter because what had the appearance of a goal on a high stick late in the third by Gaudreau was allowed to stand. It seemed clear if not dead certain that he tipped it with his stick above the crossbar, but it was obviously not conclusive enough for the refs so they let it stand after Q’s challenge. Kane finally dialed up his give-a-shit meter to get it to 3-2, but it was with barely five seconds left in the game (after he had missed on a couple good chances earlier), so it did nothing. Two calls went the Flames’ way tonight and the Hawks didn’t play well enough to overcome it. And now the hole they’ve dug themselves just got much, much deeper.

– The 3M line was good but didn’t dome the Toews line tonight. Through the second period they actually had a CF% at 40 and less. It wasn’t until the third period that they got above 50%. Tkachuk and Backlund combined for 5 shots so they got it together eventually, but at least they didn’t kick the shit out of everyone?

– The Fels Motherfuck almost made an appearance tonight. After we decided on this week’s podcast that Ryan Hartman basically sucks—for reasons that are not entirely his fault—he came out and played very well. Had he been credited with that crazy goal, it probably would have reached Motherfuck status. That aside, he personified the much-sought-after Annette Frontpresence on Top Cat’s power play goal in the first, and at the end of the first his Corsi was 100%. That’s right. 100%. He ended the night with an 86.4 CF%, and three shots. So all that pooh-pooing of the Saad-Hartman-Sharp line was, perhaps, premature, but they still didn’t score so maybe not. With the way this season has gone, I expect they’ll follow a solid performance tonight with an average of about a 15 CF% and trip over their own dicks to give up four goals while they’re on the ice on Thursday.

–In another test of do-you-see-this-as-half-full-or-half-empty, Seabrook was extra stupid in the second with a boarding penalty while the Hawks were already on the kill. The full-glass aspect of this was that Toews, Keith, and Rutta did a masterful job of killing the 5-on-3. Toews won a key faceoff near the end of it, Keith had a couple blocks, and Glass Jeff, bless his heart, he did what had to be done.

–Kempny and Rutta seemed like an odd pairing to me before the game, but they managed decent possession numbers (65.4 CF% and 64 CF% at evens), and overall the defense was not terrible. I’m still a little suspicious of CONNOR MURPHY’s illness being the reason he was scratched tonight, unless he was already retching yesterday and that’s why they had him paired with Tommy fucking Wingels for practice. Or more likely, being paired with a non-defenseman waste of space MADE him sick. These are the twisted conspiratorial thoughts I’m left with thanks to the team’s constant secrecy.

All the teams we’re chasing won tonight. The Wild, the Ducks, and as of this writing, the Avs were winning as well (not to mention the obvious with the Flames getting two points on us). We’ve said it nearly every game that THIS IS THE TIME and they must turn things around, but it’s starting to feel like that may not happen. Even when they played well, they just didn’t get the breaks going their way. Like Ozzie Guillen said, I’d rather be lucky than good.

Beer de jour: Vanilla Porter by Breckenridge (not usually my type of beer but this is the post-Super-Bowl dregs of my fridge).

Line of the Night: “The ref’s explanation was garbage.” —Adam Burish, describing the goalie interference call and everyone’s thoughts on the matter.

Everything Else

Game #47 Desperation…it’s the World’s Worst Cologne – Hawks 0, Lightning 2

By Rose Rankin January 22, 2018 3379 0