Deep Thoughts: Monday. Again.

Another fucking Monday, to be exact. And it's back to the grind. Blimey.

1. Congratulations to Chris Bosh, the newly minted all-time leading scorer of our Toronto Raptors. While I've only recently accepted my true feelings for Vince Carter - the greatest Raptor ever - I refuse to label Bosh number two, or second best. Carter's 1A. Bosh, 1B. And if Bosh sticks around and leads the Raptors to playoff glory, he could eventually be 1A.

2. At 17-18, the Raptors are a game below .500. The glorified break-even mark has become the benchmark in this city. These days, anything above .500 is a bonus. For the Raptors, however, .500 may be good enough for the Eastern Conference's 5th seed. Playoffs!!1 In Toronto, we dream big.

3. With Canada leading Switzerland 1-0 after 20 minutes of their World Junior semifinal, I couldn't help shake the feeling that part of me was rooting for the underdog Swiss. Would you really have been upset if Canada lost? We are the number one hockey development nation in the world, regardless of whether we win this year's tournament. And imagine what a story it would have been, and what a boost for their hockey program, if the Swiss had somehow been able to pull it off. Here's hoping they go home with the bronze.

4. That being said, there won't be an inch of me rooting for the U.S. in Tuesday's gold medal game. Their hockey program can go to hell. And Jerry D'Amigo? Yes, please.

5. The Buffalo Bills are undefeated in 2010. Undefeated this decade. Playoffs!!1

6. These days, when a Toronto Maple Leafs forward gets hurt, it's frankly a bit exciting. With Mickey Grabs and Wayne Primeau out, who gets the call from the farm: Tyler Bozak? Christian Hanson? Ryan Hamilton? Andre Deveaux, the Marlies' leading scorer? It appears only one forward will be summoned, as John Mitchell is ready to return. And beacon of positivity, sunshine, rainbows, and lolipops - Damien Cox - tweeted that it won't be Bozak.

7. This is awful, but why can't Rickard Wallin get injured? Why can't Vesa Toskala have heart problems?

8. The Toronto Blue Jays will emerge victorious in the Aroldis Chapman sweepstakes. I've got a hunch, rooted in nothing but rampant homerism.

9. Nice to see Edwin Encarnacion in the news. Sure, it was because some fireworks went off in his face, but you know what they say: there's no such thing as bad publicity. From Deadspin:

"Encarnacion was setting off fireworks on New Year's with his family in the Dominican Republic, when his brother lit a rocket. It shot laterally instead of straight up, and Encarnacion's infielder instincts took over. He got in front of it, and knocked it down with his head."

You see, he can play the hot corner. He'll make us forget all about that Scott Rolen guy.

10. Speaking of our beloved Blue Jays, check out the recent entry "New Beginnings" over at Mop Up Duty, by renowned J.P. Ricciardi hater Callum Hughson. The crux of Callum's argument is that he prefers "homegrown" teams, ones full of drafted talent, developed and nurtured into winners, instead of teams put together by the mighty checkbook. Now, I love the homegrown stuff, if you know what I mean, but when it comes to my baseball team, I don't give a flying fadoo Bobcat how the Blue Jays are put together, as long as they win. In 1992 and 1993, when the Blue Jays ruled the baseball world, they, to quote one of my heroes George Costanza, " spent, baby!1" Highest payroll in the league. Luring to town free agents such as Jack Morris, Dave Stewart, Dave Winfield, and Paul Molitor. And I had no problems with how Toronto went about their business. None. Because they got the job done. And we'll forever have the pennants to prove it. Why do I hate the New York Yankees? Simple: jealousy. They've got an owner who spends everybody else into the ground. My team doesn't. That's it, that's all. Money doesn't ensure success - the Yankees won two world series in the 10 years we just completed. But in a league devoid of a salary cap, money always gives a number of teams a better shot than the Blue Jays.

11. Another point Callum brought up in the comments was that if I didn't care how the teams are put together, would I throw my support behind the Blue Jays if their roster was full of baseball's notorious douchebags: Jonathan Papelbon, A.J. Pierzynski, Joba Chamberlain, Sidney Ponson, Alex Rodriguez, Brett Myers, etc. The answer is: if they win, of course. As soon as a serial douchebag puts on a Toronto jersey, he becomes my douchebag. I hated Darcy Tucker before he became a Toronto Maple Leaf. Shayne Corson, too. Even Gary Roberts, a little bit. Dave Manson. Roger Clemens. Hell, I cheered for Bryan Marchment when he played in Toronto. I justified Tie Domi's douchebaggery in my head, on many occasions. I could go on. The point is: once "the player" represents a Toronto sports team, their past is forgiven and forgotten. It's irrational, but it works. If Chris Neil were a Maple Leaf, I'd probably cheer for him too. That's what being a fan is all about.

12. Brett Myers punched his wife. Joba's been busted for DUI. Make no mistake about it, I don't condone those actions. My fandom is about what they do on the baseball field, and only the baseball field. Athletes, especially people like Myers, Joba and, I don't know, that Tiger Woods guy, are not role models. They're the last people your kids should be looking up to, and it's your responsibility to make sure they don't.

13. I finished Jim Bouton's Ball Four Saturday evening. A wonderful read, and I highly recommend it. It hit me as the book, and Bouton's 1969 season, was winding down: Bouton essentially kept a blog, and made it into a book. In seven chapters, he has written daily entries chronicling his season with the Seattle Pilots and Houston Astros. Bouton was ahead of his time.

14. Little known fact: Jim Bouton co-invented Big League Chew, the greatest bubble gum ever manufactured. A large portion of my high school years were spent with a ridiculously large wad of Big League Chew in my mouth. Original flavour, of course. Those were good times. To this day, when I step on the diamond in the summertime, I prefer to do it while chewing on some BLC. It makes me feel more like the pro ballplayer I'll never be. Thanks, Jim Bouton.

15. I've celebrated the greatness that is commenter Handsome Tony Viner over at The Tao of Stieb before. No joke, his comments regularly have me laughing out loud. I leave you with his latest, from December 30 of last year. It's a beauty ...

You are ready to accept fifth place behind Baltimore, Darren? Your defeatism is pathetic. In my world you would be involved in a tragic helicopter accident just for speaking as such an absconder.

Look, I have been a little too busy to comment on the posts of this Tao lately, but I feel I must respond to all of this ridiculous negativity.

I have built a team that will win 85+ games in 2010, and stands a great chance of shocking the world with over 90. Sure, Doc is gone, Rolen is a distant memory, and Scutaro walked. But rest assured, I expropriated an agglomeration of assets from the teams that relieved me of their contracts, mainly due to my sexy, underhanded business practices.

Rolen will be a constant injury risk for the Reds, and I defrauded them of their most inimitable pitching prospect and two other, very useful players. Encarnacion will hit 30+ HR and Roenicke will post an ERA under 3.00 and a WHIP around 1.30.

Boston will regret handing me their second round pick, especially when Scutaro's true physical condition shows itself. I have seen the relevant medical reports on his heel, and that little louse Theo Epstien has not. I signed Alex Gonzalez for less than half of what that boor paid for Scutaro, and he will outperform him in every category in 2010-2011.

The Halladay trade was a ruse from the beginning. After it was clear that Roy would not re-sign here, due to his personal braggadocio and obvious need for attention from the US sports media, I set a trap for that addlepate Ruben Amaro Jr. It was sprung according to MY plan and on MY terms. I appropriated a future ace, a silver slugger and a future all-star catcher for basically one year of Halladay. Doc was a great pitcher, but he is too expensive, uncontrollable, and his decline is imminent indeed.

I am extremely smart, and uncompromisingly handsome. The true operational art of disingenuous, duplicitous, fallacious business dealing is lost on most of these baseball people, who have never been involved in a hostile takeover in Hong Kong or run an (illegal) mobile communications network monopoly, as I have.

If you want to deprecate, and expostulate about the immediate future of the team you love, you are barking up the wrong tree. This team will be a major force to be reckon with in 2010, nevermind in 2011 and beyond when we have only ~$40MM committed to payroll, and I commit upwards of $120MM on a yearly basis.

The moral of this little talk is this: You are just going to have to show some blind faith in my handsomeness, and smart, sexy business strategies.

Sincerely,

Handsome Tony Viner

No Longer the GBOAT

It was one thing for Scott Rolen to ask for a trade back to the Midwest. Family reasons? Fine. I understand that. Even though mere months separated Rolen from free agency, family comes first.

It's another to learn (from Mike Wilner, via his "extremely trustworthy in-uniform Jays source") that Rolen was a negative in the clubhouse, constantly complained about being a Toronto Blue Jay, and didn't hide his desire to leave Toronto, and Canada.

I'm no traditionalist, and perhaps my expectations are a little old school, but that's the last way I'd expect a veteran like Rolen to behave. It's unsettling. And disappointing. Frankly, it's bullshit, especially when you consider how much he was supported by the die-hards.

Sure, he hit .320, and played sublime defence. And, sure, I'm bitter about the way this season has unraveled. But Rolen's lost all currency with me. No longer will I refer to him as the "Greatest Blue Jay of All Time."

Financial Flexibility FTW

I found the silence among Jays fans, and in the Jays blogosphere, in response to Tampa Bay trading salary dumping Scott Kazmir to Los Angeles to be rather, well, loud.

Imagine that; a team in the AL East, this one nine games above .500 and only six games back of the Wild Card, trading a high-priced player for, yes, a couple of prospects, but above all else, financial flexibility. While they're in a playoff race!1

And this, the same Tampa Bay Rays team that everyone said "figured out" how to win in baseball's toughest division on a minuscule budget.

Figured it out, my ass.

Tainted

I'm a few days late to the party, but I hope you don't mind me weighing in on Thursday's most "juicy" revelation:

David Ortiz and Manny Ramirez being outed for steroid use, in the same year, is sweet, poetic justice after years of rampant Masshole douchebaggery.

Asterisk that shit.

"Something, perhaps, from above ..."

The baseball Gods were most definitely in the house that dirty Yankee money built on Monday afternoon. How else to explain John McDonald's home run? And three missed calls by the umpires in favour of the Blue Jays?

It was the baseball Gods' way of making up for some their recent douchebaggery, in respect to Toronto's injured arms. Try as the healthy arms might to blow a 7-1 lead, and Brandon League, Jeremy Accardo, and Jason "The Sausage King" Frasor really gave it their all, the Jays weren't leaving New York without a win.

While it certainly doesn't even the score, the efforts from above were certainly appreciated. With Marc Rzepczynski taking the ball tomorrow (who?), hopefully there's more where that came from.

Keeping with the appreciation vibe, I'm very thankful for Scott Rolen. Now at 23 games, I hope his hitting streak can outlast Shawn Green's team record of 28. After only a year and a half in Toronto, Rolen is already well-deserving of having some Jays history attached to his name. He's that fucking good. (GBOAT!!1)

Also: Ricky Romero. Sweet, sweet Ricky Romero. Believe that he could win Rookie of the Year.

UPDATE: It's rare, but sometimes the "Monkey Army" at Drunk Jays Fans is actually good for something. Case in point: one of them pointed out that Shaun Marcum took the hill for the Dunedin Blue Jays Monday night. Three innings pitched, two hits allowed, and one strikeout. In typical fashion, he retired six via groundout, and two via flyout. North of fucking Steeles! I can definitely drink to that.

Keeping it Classy

After his epic five strikeout performance yesterday afternoon, Alex Rios was in an ornery mood. To say the least.

Check out the following:

It's always great when one of the faces of the Blue Jays franchise refuses to sign an autograph, and curses ("Who gives a fuck? Fuck you! Fuckin' idiot.") in front of the children.

Well done, Rios. Keep up the great work on the field, and on the streets of Toronto.

If that was me, I'd have simply yelled "Hola Alex!"

And a hearty tip of the hat to Sports And The City reader Josh for sending the clip over to my inbox.

UPDATE: An asshole, yes. But he's still our asshole.

Those obnoxious, annoying Blue Jays fans

I like Jeff Passan. Enjoy his work. Been reading him ever since he joined Yahoo! Sports. But Passan doesn't feel the same way about me, or us. He thinks we - Toronto Blue Jays fans - are obnoxious, annoying homers.

About a month ago, while travelling the internetz, I stopped by a live chat being run by the fine folks at Big League Stew. Cliff Lee was the topic of conversation at the time and, as I involuntarily do whenever I read or hear Cliff Lee's name, I commented that Roy Halladay, and certainly not Lee, should have won the 2008 American League Cy Young Award.

That was enough to set off Passan. Here's what he had to say:

"I have a feeling that if the Blue Jays are ever good again, they're going to give Red Sox fans a run for their obnoxious money.

"I love Roy Halladay -- picked him to win the CY this year -- but come on. How can you make that argument?

"I'm just saying: Toronto fans are tremendously parochial, to the point that it becomes annoying. They are funny and cool and I'd definitely love to drink a beer with them, but their homerism is way over the top."

It's been a few weeks - I am arguably the world's greatest procrastinator - but allow me to respond.

Well, Mr. Passan, the Jays are good again. And while I'm the last person in Toronto to argue a charge of over-the-top homerism, to say that Blue Jays fans could ever be as obnoxious as the Massholes is flat-out fucking ridiculous. That's a whole other level of douchebaggery.

Oh yeah, Halladay. Look, Doc faced the Boston Red Sox, Tampa Bay DEVIL Rays, and New York Yankees a combined 16 times last season. Six starts against New York, and five each against Boston and Tampa Bay. Cliff Lee faced those three teams four times. One start against Boston, one against New York, and two versus Tampa Bay. The only team Lee faced five times last season: the 75-87 Kansas City Royals.

I know the schedule is largely to blame, but that's why I can make that argument, Mr. Passan. Because that disparity has got to mean something.

But it's all good. The beer's on me, Passan. Enough about 2008, and Cliff Lee.

How about Brian Tallet? The much maligned J.P. Ricciardi has somehow put together an embarrassment of riches on the mound for the Blue Jays, and you probably won't find him getting much credit for it.

With guys like Casey Janssen and Ricky Romero set to return in a week or so, and Jesse Litsch not far behind, questions abound. Such as: how the fuck do you return Tallet to the bullpen?

And while I hate to overlook the second edition of Cecil Time this afternoon, Tuesday night looms large: Roy Halladay vs. A.J. Burnett. 

Be there. I need not say more.

UPDATE: I lied, I do have more to say. As bklades pointed out in the comments, and I fully agree with him, when it comes to Jays fans, pessimism reigns supreme.  Most casual fans are just waiting for this Jays team to struggle so they can say "I told you so!" Some advice: if you're going to depart the bandwagon, do so quietly. And use the door at the back, assholes.

Another one bites the dust

Manny Ramirez, cheater.

Or is he? Apparently Manny is guilty as charged of using a performance enhancing drug - only of the sexual variety.

Regardless, arguably the greatest hitter of our generation has failed a drug test. Whatever he took was a baseball enhancer as well. And it's unfortunate, because he'll now be painted with the same brush as douchebags like A-Rod and Roger Clemens.

When it comes to baseball players testing positive for the juice, nothing surprises me anymore. I was shocked to hear about Ramirez, but not surprised. These days, they're all guilty until proven innocent.

Except for two men: Roy Halladay, the greatest pitcher I've ever known, and Carlos Delgado, the lost slugger of the Steroid Era.

I'm not sure who's next to be outed, but if it were one of those two men, a part of me would die inside. I'm not sure I could deal with finding out that Roy Halladay isn't perfect, or that Delgado didn't become the best Toronto Blue Jay hitter of all time on nothing but his own merit. It would be akin to finding out, as a young boy, that Santa Claus does not in fact exist; things would never be the same again. Innocence, lost.

Here's hoping that day never comes.

You know all that hype? Believe it.

Look at Ovechkin. Look at those two grown men embracing. Good times are being had by all. (Well, except the Penguins. And their fans.)

It's Ovechkin vs Crosby and Malkin. Ovie vs Sid and Geno. Three of hockey's finest players, none older than 23, squaring off in the second round of the playoffs. A series that is so far - somehow - actually living up to its incredulous media hype.

And I've been kind of apathetic towards it. I figured it was just that: hype. 

I've caught about 45 minutes of actual action throughout the first two games. Truthfully, I've been watching more Toronto Blue Jays baseball. Hey, they're a first place team, asshole. (Playoffs!!1)

Full highlights of games one and two have been watched, though. Amply. A helluva playoff series is going down. The stars are shining. Well, except that Malkin guy. And, umm, where was this Varlamov character all season?

I caught the third period last night, and my reaction to hat-tricks by both Crosby and Ovechkin was a hearty "fuck off." (Ovie's third was something, enough for Bob Cole's trademarked "OH BABY!") Both #87 and #8 have officially taken their game to the proverbial "next level." It certainly does exist. And it's slightly arousing to watch.

Wednesday night, the Blue Jays are in Anaheim. Which means a most accomodating 10:05 PM eastern start time. One that works out perfectly because, clearly, there's a hockey game to be watched.

As the fine folks at Puck Daddy pointed out a few days ago, Mario Lemieux and Wayne Gretzky never met in the playoffs. I guess this is what it would have been like.

Some quick, penetrating thoughts: Crosby complaining about hats being thrown on the ice to celebrate an Ovechkin hat-trick - the nerve of Washington fans! - is going to do wonders for his reputation as a whiny little bitch crybaby. He must have the same PR guy as Mats Sundin ... Chris Kunitz is officially a douchebag. Cross-checking the goalie in the neck? Stay classy ... Mario Lemieux's playoff beard can only be admired and appreciated. I am in love with that man. Did you know that when he came into the league Lemieux asked to wear #99? So as to not draw too much attention to his desire to be better than Gretzky, and create his own brand, he simply flipped the numbers around. What a man ... It's going to be quite the afternoon: Brett Cecil makes his MLB debut for the Jays, followed by Man United vs Arsenal. For Cecil, the beginning of a promising career. For the Gunners, the end of their Champions League aspirations.

On Chris Bosh ...

From AltRaps over at uber Toronto Raptors blog Raptors Republic:

[Chris Bosh] finishes the season averaging 20/10, in the company of only two other players in the league, yet the idiots in the peanut gallery want to dump his ass for whatever we can get and make out that he doesn't play with heart. Idiots. 21pts and 19boards against a team that was playing for something. Just smile, Chris...big up yaself.

After perusing the stats, there's only one player in the NBA, other than Toronto's CB4, who definitively averages 20/10: Dwight Howard (20.6/13.8). You might know him as Superman.

Two other guys who just about pull it off: The Big Fundamental himself, Tim Duncan (19.3/10.7). And the pride of the People's Republic of China, Yao Ming (19.7/9.9).

I know what you're thinking. And I agree. Tim Duncan does have the best nickname. Ever.

Anyway, that's some pretty impressive company for Bosh to be in, no?

The season's over. It's decision making time for Bryan Colangelo. He's under the bright spotlights now. Does he get Bosh's autograph on a long-term contract before his deal expires in 2010? Does he bring back Anthony Parker? Shawn Marion? Joey Graham? Pops Mensah-Bonsu? The legendary Jake Voskuhl? What about head coach Jay Triano? Oh, the questions.

If it were up to me, I'd re-sign Marion. The Raptors desperately need his eight rebounds per game. He can't create his own offence, but that's what Jose Calderon is for. You know how I feel about Pops. I'd re-sign AP, too, only because I'm an emotional suck, and only to come off the bench. Joey Graham, good luck and Godspeed. Voskhul's a no brainer; bring him back. What a cheerleader. And I've no idea what to do with Triano. I'll trust Colangelo on that one. 

And you're damned right I'd re-sign Christopher Wesson Bosh to an extension. Or at least try to. If he refuses, then the trade route must be explored. We wouldn't get fair value, no way, but Vince Carter taught me a couple of valuable lessons: one, he's a douchebag; two, this franchise cannot afford to make a trade like his again.

Look, I'm not a fan of Bosh's online habits either, but he brings it on the court, and that's why option number one must be to lock him up. At the end of the day, 20/10 speaks for itself.

What would you do?

T.O.'s a Buffalo Bill...

and Hitler isn't too pleased about it. (Hat tip: Stoeten at The Score.)

Signing Terrell Owens is worse than "wide right"? Fuck off. Wide right has its own God damn Wikipedia entry. Hitler's an idiot. 

Clearly, the Fuhrer and I don't see eye to eye on Owens. As a matter of fact, I'm going to come out on record and say that Hitler and I don't see eye to eye on a whole lot of things.

Anyway, huge move by the Bills. With it, they all but sold a group of 20 tickets to someone in Toronto, likely my brother, for a game at the Ralph next season. We were thinking of changing up the venue for our annual pilgrimage down south to an NFL game, Detroit perhaps, but now that T.O. is a member of the greatest organization in professional football, we're going back to Buffalo. And we can't wait.

Trent Edwards + Terrell Owens + Marshawn Lynch + Lee Evans = Playoffs!!!1

Shout!

Like these clowns, who are clearly the biggest Buffalo Bills fans ever, and hopefully very, very drunk:

As you can see, there's not a whole lot to do in Buffalo. But, go Bills.

Mats Sundin: The Return...

The game on his stick, Mats Sundin did what he's done so many times in a blue and white jersey on Air Canada Centre ice: he sealed the deal. This time, wearing green as well, he did it to the Toronto Maple Leafs, instead of for them. And it was beautiful.

I doubt I could have written a better script: A beautiful standing ovation in Sundin's honour. Sixty-five minutes of entertaining hockey. A 2-2 game. A shootout equal at one. And Sundin, the yet to be replaced former Leafs captain, with the final word.

Backhand. Shelf. Stick side. Money.

A triumphant, and fitting, return. The game-winning goal. A first-star selection. And I was there. It was perfect.

Let's talk about that epic first period ovation. Leafs fans showed their class, and gave it up for their captain. I'm not sure I've ever heard the ACC any louder. The game waited. Chants of "Sundin! Sundin!" broke out. Mats got emotional. There may or may not have been some dust in my eye, causing severe discomfort to the point of tears. All of a sudden, my overpriced purple seats were worth every penny. It was magical.

Throughout the game, I hollered in support whenever Mats touched the puck. Some made the wrong decision to boo #13, but my fears of being severely let down by the Toronto faithful thankfully did not come to pass. Sundin was well received, as he should have been, and both Canucks and Leafs fans were cheering when he put the puck in the net to end the game.

Of course, there were the token douchebag Sundin haters. I happened to run into two of them after the game. The clowns, one of them with Xs through Sundin's name and number on his jersey, were yelling "Mats has the clap! Mats has the clap!," and talking smack to anyone in a Sundin jersey, myself included. As you can tell, really classy individuals.

Long story short, I: may or may not have engaged them in some intellectual conversation hurled some obscenities their way, am impressed by the promptness of security folk at the ACC, take the Mats-hating of others, especially drunk morons, way too seriously. For I am eyebleaf, "Lord of the Idiots."

While it was Sundin's night, I can't write about being in attendance without mentioning Vesa Toskala. He was fantastic. Went save-for-save with Bobby Luongo, the best goalie in the world, and looked good doing so. Way to not slut it up while I was in the building, Vesa.

Back to business. You know, I have memories of Sundin in a Quebec Nordiques uniform, so many years ago. I don't, however, remember him scoring against the Maple Leafs, although I'm pretty sure he did. After last night, I'll never forget.

About a year ago, we never got to properly say thanks, or say goodbye. Last night, we got to do both.

Thanks for everything, Mats. Including one more magical night. While you'll forever remain a Maple Leaf to me, you're now officially a Vancouver Canuck. Go and get that Cup.

Who gives a shit?

Anyone else sick to death of reading, hearing and talking about Alex Rodriguez's steroid revelation?

Fuck. Enough already. What exactly is so surprising? The guy has always been a $250 million dollar douchebag. Now he's a steroid-using $250 million dollar douchebag. It makes sense. Deal with it, and let's move on.

Honestly, I don't give a damn who it is; a baseball player testing positive for steroids is not news.

Did I mention that A-Rod's a douche?

Yes? Good.

*Update*

He admitted it. After lying about it for, what, more than a year? What an idiot. Ladies and gentlmen, give it up for Alex Rodriguez, douchebag extraordinaire. Now, get over it.

Wendel Clark: The Anti Roy

Wendel Clark was honoured by the Toronto Maple Leafs on Saturday night, not because he won multiple Stanley Cups, or had a Hall of Fame type career. Nope, Wendel was honoured because of the way he played the game.

If there was ever a guy who played hockey "the right way," it was Clark. It's probably the ultimate sports cliche, but Wendel left everything out on the ice, every single time he stepped on it.

No matter how bad some of those Toronto Maple Leafs teams were back in the day - and some of them were really, really bad - Clark played every game as if it were game seven of the Stanley Cup finals; as if it were his last. 

Patrick Roy was also honoured on Saturday night. By Montreal, and rightfully so. He had one hell of a career. Arguably the greatest goalie to ever play the game. Quite the resume: four Stanley Cups, three Conn Smythe trophies, and three Vezina trophies. 

But you know how I'll remember him? As a douchebag, for pulling that shit in Montreal back on December 2nd, 1995. You remember, don't you? That fateful night, when he was absolutely pounded by the Detroit Red Wings; when his career with the Habs came to a crashing halt.

Patrick Roy. What a drama queen. What a diva. What a quitter. Roy actually had the nerve, right after he was yanked from the game and still on the bench, to walk up to the team president of les Canadiens and say that he'd never again play for le bleu, blanc et rouge. It still amazes me. And all because his personal pride took a little bit of a spanking.

Poor guy, that Roy. Somebody pass me the Kleenex.

You know what else I'll remember about St. Patrick? His decision to not play for Team Canada at the 2002 Olympics. You know, because he wasn't handed the starting goaltending job, on a silver fucking platter, from the get go.

Classy guy, that Roy.

Patrick and Wendel. Two men, with two very different narratives, honoured by two storied hockey clubs. 

Roy had to be reaccepted by the Canadiens family for it to go down. Fucking drama queen. Clark loved being a Toronto Maple Leaf so much he came back home. Twice. He is a Maple Leaf. To the core of his being. It's what defines him.

That's the difference between the two men. Roy played for himself. Wendel Clark never, not once, thought of himself as bigger than the Toronto Maple Leafs, or his teammates, or the game. He was a warrior on the ice, but he played with humility, and it was on full display once again during Saturday night's ceremony. No matter what Rosie DiManno says, Clark deserved his moment at centre ice.

You know how I'll remember Wendel Clark? As the ultimate team player. I'll remember Wendel's wrist shots, and his thundering body checks. I'll remember him as the farm boy from Saskatchewan who captured the big city's collective heart. Most of all, though, I'll remember Clark as the guy who played for the logo on his jersey, the Maple Leaf, instead of the name on his back.

Thanks for the memories, Wendel. Number 17 looks great up in the rafters, where it belongs, for all eternity...

I'm assuming by now that you've checked out the full list, the Top 17 Wendel Clark Moments, over at Down Goes Brown. If you haven't, what the fuck are you waiting for? It's a wonderful trip down memory lane. And take some Kleenex, because something is going to, uh, get caught in your eye.

Oh, and props out to Down Goes Brown for joining TheScore.com's new Sports Federation. I may not agree with the man on many fronts, but that doesn't mean I don't know his blog is one of the best out there. And we all gotta pay the bills. Good on you, DGB.

I Used To Like Kevin Garnett

My good friend, and loyal Sports And The City reader, Karan said it best: "Anything is possible...except some class in Beantown."

Peep this from Monday night:

It's one thing to talk trash. Bring the heat, KG. Jose Calderon can handle it. It's another to clap in his face, and point and wave a finger at him like a pompous (m)asshole.  

Good on Jose for getting right back into KG's grill after the fact, because that was some bullshit.

It's obvious that the city of Boston has had an impact on Garnett. In just over a year he's gone from being a loveable loser, to a champion, and now, much like his New England brethren, to a douchebag.

Way to keep it classy, KG. 

Anything less in Boston would have been uncivilized.

Torn...

I spent a couple of hours late last night staring out at the city beyond my window, listening to Natalie Imbruglia, and thinking about Luke Schenn. The kid is staying with the Maple Leafs and, much like Natalie sings, I'm torn.

On an aside, I've got quite the view of Toronto from my mother's basement. You'd be surprised.

When it comes to the man-child known as Schenn, I must admit that I'm surprised, and a little disappointed, that he won't be returning to junior hockey. I felt that, at the end of the day, another year of dominating hockey players his own age could not have hurt him. Schenn would have been the number one guy on the Kelowna Rockets, and would have had the chance to play in every situation, especially the power play - something he won't get much of an opportunity to do here with the Leafs. Schenn was also a shoo-in for the Canadian entry at the World Junior tournament, and likely would have captained the squad.

In Schenn's defence, and also much to my delight, he's played great so far this season. He's proven that he's ready to play with the best players in the world. In only eight games, he's become one of Ron Wilson's go-to guys, and has cracked the top four on the blue line. Frankly, it's hard not to be impressed by what he's been able to step in and do. His play really made it hard for the Leafs to send him back down, and I can't help but admire the drive and work ethic of the soon-to-be 19-year-old (!) for that.

One thing is clear: Schenn plays with the poise of a seasoned NHL defenceman. He plays hard, he plays with passion, and he sticks up for his teammates. Watching the youngster step in and fight Chris Neil, after Neil nailed Matt Stajan on Saturday night, brought a tear to my eye. Schenn really looks like he might be the real deal.

Speaking of Chris Neil, his pathetic douchebaggery knows no bounds. He was willing to drop the gloves and fight Luke Schenn, but when Jamal Mayers was standing in front of him, gloves off and asking for a dance, Neil politely declined, bitch that he is, and skated off to the Ottawa bench. Gutless. Absolutely gutless. Neil is an embarrassment to hockey, the game I love with all my being, and Canada, the country I love even more. Fuck Chris Neil. And if you're down with Chris Neil, fuck you too.

Oh yeah, and Stajan, would you be a dear and try keeping your head up? It would be appreciated. There's only so many of your battles Schenn, six years your junior, can fight, honey. If you're not going to keep your head up, do us all a favour and grow some gonads. Stupid, sexy, Stajan. 

Of course, we don't really know if Luke Schenn is the real deal. Not yet. My good friend MF37, who runs the great blog Bitter Leaf Fan, made some valid points after I emailed him asking him his thoughts on the Schenn announcement. He's right: there is simply no tried, tested and true way to best develop NHL talent. Each and every player, and each and every situation, is different. Schenn may be ready. Or Schenn may not be ready. We don't know. We never watched him play in junior, and an eight game sample size is much too small for us, or anyone for that matter, to pass judgement. All we can do is put our hope in Ron Wilson and the coaching staff. While the majority of signs are pointing to Schenn being the stud we so badly want and need him to be, we'll get the answer we're looking for, one way or another, in a few years. 

The decision to keep Schenn was a tough call by the Leafs' brain trust, especially considering the traffic jam on the blue line. It's a decision they will no doubt take a lot of heat for. But I'll give them props for going against the grain. 

You full well know Damien Cox was foaming at the mouth once he heard Schenn was looking for permanent digs, and Damien undoubtedly will shit all over the club today, conjuring memories of Drake Berehowsky ("Hate the Drake!") and Al Iafrate. Not that I'm surprised. No matter what the Leafs had done with Schenn, the wrath of the mittenstringers was waiting for them.

In the spirit of the season - it's a development year, right? - let's sit back and enjoy watching Schenn develop in front of our very eyes. I'm game, and I'm excited. 

Welcome to Toronto, Luke. Officially, this time. My head was hoping you'd be back on your way to Kelowna. My heart was hoping you'd stay...

Best Fist Pump Ever

Ever since Jason Blake acted like a complete douchebag a week and a half ago against les Habitants, the timeless art of the fist pump has been on the brain over here, and over at Pension Plan Puppets.

Without further adieu, I present the greatest fist pump of all time, courtesy of Los Angeles Dodgers' hero Kirk Gibson:

A walk-off, pinch hit home run in the World Series, followed by the double pump fist pump. Fucking classic. That's about as good as it gets, my friends. Well done, Kirk Gibson, well done.

Sean Avery; Oh What Could Have Been

Sean Avery, everyone's favourite douchebag, took his act to Dallas over the summer. He made his return to New York Monday night, and was at his Avery best during his post-game interview.

So, he gets in Brandon Dubinsky's face, and calls Rangers back-up goalie Stephen Valiquette a "minor leaguer." (You know, a "minor leaguer" who beat the Leafs twice last season, and who has already shut us out this season. Just saying.) Then, apparently, Avery gets into it with the Rangers' colour man. 

My point is, just imagine a full season of Sean Avery and the Toronto Maple Leafs media. Worlds would have collided. Oh, the fun it would have been. Think about it, Damien Cox didn't get along with Darcy Tucker. Imagine the living hell Avery would have put him through. To read the hatred Cox would have spewed towards Avery, day in and day out, would have been worth it alone. 

I still think we should have signed Avery, or at least tried to. He would have made a plucky Toronto team even tougher to play against and, more importantly, Damien Cox's life miserable. And, really, at the end of the day, isn't that we all want? 

* Hat tip to Greg Wyshynski at Puck Daddy for the Avery video and link. They're good people over there, check 'em out if you don't already. 

I still hate the Boston Red Sox

The champagne was on ice. The plastic sheets were up all over my apartment. I even had my goggles ready to go. Then the Boston Red Sox, left for dead, came back. Massholes everywhere rejoiced.

It wasn't supposed to go down like that.

Trailing 7-0 in the 7th inning, it looked like the Red Sox were going to fade quietly into the night. Watching the game on television I swear I'd never heard Fenway Park so quiet. I was revelling in the fact that the Massholes - those unlovable, incorrigible, "we are entitled to every pro sports championship in the world" douchebags - were going to watch the Tampa Bay Rays win the pennant on their turf. Nothing was going to have been better.

Well, talk about the sports fan's equivalent of premature ejaculation.

I should have known. The Boston Red Sox never fade quietly into the night. I'm still having a hard time believing they managed to come back against the mighty Rays' bullpen, with their backs up against the wall to boot. It was high drama. Then again, these are the Red Sox. These are, even sans Manny Ramirez, the defending World Series champions. Jeff Blair of The Globe and Mail, also known as the finest baseball writer on the planet, was kind enough to point out that Boston has won eight ALCS elimination games in a row, and nine of 10 overall. Pardon my French, but that's fucking ridiculous.

Can the BoSox do it again, and pull off another miracle comeback? I can't put it past them. I won't lie, I'm worried about the Rays. They're a bunch of kids, after all. What happened Thursday night, especially Evan Longoria's error in the bottom of the ninth, has the potential to propel the Red Sox back to the World Series.

As much as I do hate the Boston Red Sox, and I really, really do, it's got to be one hell of a joyride being on that bandwagon. From the highest highs to the lowest lows and then back again. Sort of like the Dow Jones.

Before I forget, I want to take this opportunity to point out just how fickle the Massholes, and the MSM that cover the Red Sox, collectively are. I want to show you just how loyal "Red Sox Nation" really is. With their most clutch hitter, and arguably one of the most clutch hitters ever, David Ortiz scuffling at the plate, his nick-name went from "Big Papi" to "Big Popup." You know that Ortiz guy? He was kind of, just kind of, instrumental in bringing a couple of titles to Boston. Of course, after his home run two nights ago, Ortiz is back to having his cock sucked by the Massholes.

It gets better. The "Nation" has turned on their beloved Captain, Jason Varitek, booing him and his pathetic .115 post-season batting average. Varitek's shit. I know it, you know it, and we all know it. In fact, we've all known it for a while. But now the Massholes stop defending him? Really? Now? When he needs their support the most? Classy bunch of fans over there in Boston, man, real classy.

Tonight at the Trop it's going to be Josh Beckett vs. James Shields. Tampa Bay will try to clinch the pennant at home, in front of their oh so loyal fan base who have stuck by the team through thin and, well, thinner. Yes, all eleven people who comprise the "oh so loyal fan base" will be in attendance and, let me tell you, they can't wait.

Speaking of Beckett, he has not looked like the Mr. October he normally is but, in typical Red Sox fashion, I'm expecting him to throw an absolute gem. Maybe he can tear a page out of Curt Schilling's book and paint his sock red. Fake blood worked like a charm the first time around.

For the Rays to win, Shields needs to go pitch-for-pitch with Beckett, and the middle of the Rays' lineup has to be just as good as it was on Thursday. Most importantly, though, the Rays to a man need to forget about the debacle that ended up being Thursday night.

Make it happen Tampa. Please. No doubt the majority of this city's baseball fans are cheering for you. For the love of God and all humanity, make the Boston Red Sox and the Massholes go away, even if it is just for a few months.

Fist Pump 101

Last week in the comments section over at Fenway West I ripped Boston Red Sox miniature douchebag Dustin Pedroia for his extremely poor fist pump etiquette. Well, it seems Toronto's own Jason Blake needs to touch up on his fist pump manners as well.

For the record, I'd like to say that I am not a big fan of the timeless art of the fist pump. I've never really enjoyed Tiger's, I hate Nadal's, Sean Avery looks like a complete douche when he does his thing, and Danielle Briere, who has employed the fist pumpage after every single goal he has ever scored in his life (even empty net goals), has ruined the fist pump for me forever.

As for Blake, one of the few, if not only, fist pumpers on the Leafs, my man just needs a quick lesson. A fist pump refresher, you know? We all forget sometimes. No big deal.

So, Jason, the next time the Maple Leafs are down 5-0 and you score a power play goal, which happens to be a tap-in into an empty net because the goaltender is out of position, please use your mother fucking brain and refrain from the fist pump celebration. I know, you're excited, you're a cancer survivor, and you're probably just happy to be alive. I get that. I too am happy for you. In the negative hell hole which has become Leafs Nation, I'm one of your biggest supporters. I even picked you in my hockey pool, that's how much faith I've got in you.

But, please, the next time you want to use the fist pump, first think about the score. It matters. In fact, I would love it if you could do me a solid and save the fist pump for only game-tying or game winning goals, in the third period or later. Thanks man.

That's it. I told you, just a quick refresher. 

What about you, are you a fan of the fist pump? Do you use it when you score on the ice, or in the bedroom? Are you looking to spruce up your fist pump, or add it to your repertoire? This might help. Good luck, and Godspeed.

Papelbon = Douchebag

Another reason to hate Jonathan Papelbon. As if you needed another one.

It's blatantly obvious that he's a six-year-old in a 27-year-old's body.

Now, there's no doubting Papelbon can pitch. It pains me to say it, but he's one of the best closers in baseball, as Jeff Blair so poignantly informs us.

And don't get me wrong, I hate Craig Sager's suits as much as the next guy, but why does Papelbon have to be such a jackass?

*Hat tip to Stoeten, he of Drunk Jays Fans and TheScore.com fame, for the video.