Teppo’s Back, and He’s Better Than Ever.

Have you ever had a SUPER refreshing glass of water when you didn’t even realize you were all that thirsty? You take that sip, and it leads to a guzzle, and you can feel the water entering your system and it’s just the most delicious, satisfying thing ever? That’s how I felt when I heard Teppo got signed. I miss hockey. I am absolutely parched. Considering it’s August 8th, I’m not sure I could have received a more refreshing bit of hockey news today.

He’s a tall drink of water, alright.

Last year was my first full year as a Sabres fan, so except for the ‘07 playoffs I haven’t really seen Teppo in action, but here’s the third post I ever wrote for The Willful Caboose. I’m a Teppo fan. The Sabres often seemed too young and too skittish last year, and say what you want about him, but Teppo is neither of those things.

Hooray!

2 Things

1. Today I will be spending the afternoon and evening at a wedding. “A wedding?” you say, “On Wednesday?” Yup. “Who gets married on a Wednesday?” Well, I’m glad you asked. Chinese people get married on Wednesday! The bride, the beautiful and alluring Yang, is Chinese and she told me that there is some kind of lucky significance to this date. I don’t think the luck comes from “Wednesday” I think it comes from the “sixth” of August. So, off I go to a wedding. This is going to be one of those fun weddings where I’m not at all involved in the ceremony but I know most of the people there. I suspect there will be some Hokey Pokey in my near future. I’m pretty sure the Hokey Pokey originated in China. Okay, that’s a lie. I seriously doubt the Hokey Pokey has Chinese origins, but the groom is from Olean, and the Hokey Pokey really MIGHT have come from Olean. Either way, I’m gonna shake it all about tonight. ifyouknowwhatimean.

2. Yesterday, the fantabulous danielleia left the following comment in regards to hot Olympic swimmers:

“Ryan Lochte is another personal fave.”

Now, a recommendation from danielleia is good enough for me, so I quickly set out to google “Ryan Lochte”. The very first picture that came up was this one:

Michael Phelps in a triumphant mood.

Alas, I was not searching for images of Michael Phelps, I was searching for images of Ryan Lochte who I was assuming is a stone cold fox. I read the caption of the photo and found my man:

I love him.

Now, I understand why Sports Illustrated went with this photo. Michael Phelps, the presumed darling of the Olympics, looks amazing. He’s the very image of passion and triumph. This is a great picture of Michael Phelps, but the thing is, this picture is the first picture that came up when I googled Ryan Lochte. That’s not fair. This is a TERRIBLE picture of Ryan Lochte. (Incidentally, further investigation did in fact prove that Lochte is a good looking guy.)

Ryan Lochte is my new favorite Olympian for two reasons.

1. This picture really makes me laugh. I know it’s immature of me to find this picture funny, but HELLO!, welcome to my blog, I’m 10. That expression + that posture + that fist pump = funny. For all I know, Ryan Lochte is the most graceful, debonair guy in the world, but he’ll always be this funny spazzy dude to me.

2. This photo is exactly the kind of thing that happens to me. I can pretty much guarantee that in twenty years, hanging on the wall of the couple to be married today will be a picture from the wedding reception. It will be a candid. Yang and Ben will be laughing and glancing adoringly at one another, perhaps while in conversation with some wedding guests. Yang will look radiate. Ben will look handsome, his face will display all of the love and the pride that he feels on this amazing day. They’ll be touching in some quiet way- perhaps her hand gently resting on his back, or his arm loosely slipped around her waist. The picture will somehow capture the spirit of the day. The fun, and the beauty, and the promise of the many years of love to come. It will be THE picture from the wedding; the picture that graces every mantle in every house for the rest of their lives.

Decades from now, I’m going to get an email from Yang. She’s going to tell me that one of her kids suddenly noticed something about the picture that gave the entire family a big laugh. Way in the background, hardly noticeable even if you’ve looked at the picture a thousand times, will be me. Dancing the hokey pokey. Looking not unlike Mr. Lochte up there. And then, twenty years from now, Yang is going to put that picture on Facebook. And she’s going to tag me.

As a fellow person who is constantly captured looking spazzy in photos of other people looking amazing, I believe that Ryan Lochte needs to do something at the Olympics that gets that photo off the top of his google search list. Perhaps a medal ceremony? I think that’s as good a reason to cheer for Ryan Lochte as anything else.

0% Renewal Rate

Last year at about this time, the Buffalo newspapers and airwaves were filled with the rants of outraged Sabres fans denouncing the organization for allowing the co-captains to get away. Caller after WGR-caller declared they would BOYCOTT the organization. “NO MORE,” the citizens of SabreNation declared! “THE SABRES MANAGEMENT MUST BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE!”

Well, as it turns out, the outrage of the Sabres fan base might have been just a teensy bit overstated. Today the Sabres announced that they had a 97% renewal rate of their season ticket holders. The team went from 1st to 10th last year, and still, 97% of their highest paying customers came back for more. For a city so overcome with outrage, we certainly seem to enjoy attending Sabres games.

I have two thoughts on this:

1. Suck it, Buffalo News. Suck it hard.
2. Damn it! I’m never getting season tickets!

On the one hand, I’m pleased that so many people love the Sabres as much as I love them. On the other hand, this development marks the end of a dream for Heather B and me.

Last season, when everyone was threatening to jump ship, Heather and I started a little joke about attending the season opener. In accordance with the wide spread outrage, most of Buffalo would be outside protesting with torches and pitchforks, but Heather and I would go to the game…as the lone customers.

______

Katebits: Well, I say we just go ahead and buy the cheap tickets. We’ll walk right past all the protesters and up to the box office and buy our 300 level seats for twenty bucks. It’ll be so hilarious being in a completely empty arena, sitting a mile away from the ice, as the only paying customers. I bet that at some point during the skate-around a few of the players will bunch together and point us out to one another. Surely, one of them will shout up at us to move down to the seats behind the bench. It would be ridiculous for us to remain so far away when we’re the ONLY people there. I bet it will be Goose who invites us to move closer.

Heather B: Of course it’ll be, Goose. And when we get down to the glass he’ll ask us our names and introduce us to the team. Roy-Z will try to pretend he’s not disappointed that we’re not puckbunnies but he will be a little. Toni will nudge Hank and point at my jersey and Hank will blush a little but give a small wave with a big grin.

Katebits: They’ll all be super polite- except for Crunchy. He’ll just roll his eyes, but he’ll make an extra big show out of his pre-game “meditation” for our benefit.

Heather B: Crunchy will totally glance over every now and then to make sure we’re noticing him being all crazy.

Katebits: Since there is no one else in the building Darcy might come down and sit near us. He’ll bring us shrimp cocktail from the owners box…because he’s nice like that.

Heather B: Darcy will definitely come down. Since we’re the only two people in Buffalo who didn’t cancel our seats, he’ll know we’re friendly. As soon as he sits down I’ll ask him if he intends to re-sign Hank at the end of his contract and carefully explain why he should. Darcy will be so happy at not being called inept that he’ll amuse me.

Katebits: James Patrick might let me hold his clipboard.

Heather B: James Patrick might let *me* try on his fancy headset. I always wondered who he talks to in that thing.

Katebits: We’ll be on the jumbotron the whole night….um, kisscam might be awkward.

Heather B: Goose will recognize the awkwardness, skate over and kiss you, no problem.

Katebits: Gaaaasp! You’re so right! Goose is so thoughtful! He wouldn’t want kisscam to be awkward!

Heather B: Goose is the whole reason we’re down there in the first place. He’ll totally be looking out for us.

Katebits: Dude. This game is going to ROCK.

Heather B: The power play will suck - some things don’t change - and Lindy will stand up on the bench and yell for our input. We’ll fix everything, of course.

Katebits: If I’m feeling obnoxious and I yell “shoot” during the power play, I bet Tim Connolly will actually do it.

Heather B: Either that or he’ll turn around and scream, “GOD, SHUT UP! I HEAR YOU! BEING A HOCKEY PLAYER IS HARD!”

Katebits: And that’s when Lindy will let me bench Timmy for being a big baby.

Heather B: And Lindy will actually grumble to you, “What a baby. I want to bench him all the time.”

Katebits: Tooootally. Lindy and I will share a nod of friendship over the benching of stupid old Tim Connolly…..maybe even a fist bump.

Heather B: When I get up for refreshments Hank will skate over to ask me where I’m going. “For Dippin’ Dots.” “Oh, you don’t need to miss any of the game. Petey can get those for you.” And so Andrew Peters will go out to get me some mint chocolate Dippin’ Dots.

Katebits: Is that what Andrew Peters is there for? To fetch Dippin’ Dots? Huh.

Heather B: So, what’s Pommerdoodle doing during all of this? Something adorable, I’m sure.

Katebits: He’s skating around, winning the game. At least that’s what I presume Pommers is doing. That’s what he usually does, isn’t it?

Heather B: Yeah, that is Pommers. “Come on, guys! We still have a game to win here! Let’s stick with the system and the fans will come back!” Even if Pommers likes us I think he’s a little sad that we’re the only two people there.

Katebits: Pommers is going to be TOTALLY focused on winning back the hearts and minds of the Buffalo people.

Heather B: OMG, Rick will totally invite us up to the booth to sit for a while. He’ll interview us on TV and the P.A. guy will let us announce the goals with editorial comments of course. (”Scoring his first goal of the season, Thomas Vanek! Only 101 more before he earns his salary for the season!”)

Katebits: We are SO going to watch part of the game up with Rick and Harry. Kevin Sylvester will probably want to meet us as well, and then I can figure out once and for all if he’s hot or if he’s creepy.

Heather B: Hey, maybe the music director will ask us for playlists since we are the only ones there. We’ll have the first Fan Playlists in Sabres history!

Katebits: My playlist is going to be all viola music. I’m going to tame Toni Lydman with my beautiful playlist.

Heather B: Then we’ll get the world’s best LET’S GO BUFF-A-LO chant going while Sabretooth bangs on the glass in front of us. He then shoots t-shirts into the luxury boxes above us.

Katebits: No way! Sabretooth will shoot all the t-shirts right at us!….I just have to warn you, I think that this is going to be so fun that I’m going to get really drunk. I mean, this scenario calls for some giant beers, right? I’ll be too buzzed to drive after the game, so you’ll have to drive the train up Main Street. I’m sure they’ll let you drive the train. We’ll be the only people on it! Who’s going to notice or care if you drive the train for a few blocks?

Heather B: My drink of choice is Coca-Cola, so I’ll be sober.

Katebits: Excellent. You drink Coke, and I’ll drink giant Blue Lights…..The Sabres will win, of course.

Heather B: When a Sabre scores we’ll line up at the end of the bench and be included in the fist bumps. By the end of the night they’ll be calling you KB and me H-Dog.

Katebits: Ha! I seriously doubt they are creative enough for “KB” and “H-Dog”. Let’s face it. You’ll be B-sie and I’ll be Bitsie. That’s how we’ll know we’ve made friends with Millsie- when he starts calling us Bitsie and B-sie.

Heather B: This really will be the best game over. I’m so glad everyone is canceling their season tickets!

Katebits: I know! I bet they’ll let us drive the zamboni. Oooh! I bet they’ll let me operate the Transit Town Dodge Mini Blimp! I’m totally going to crash it. I hate that thing.

Heather B: It’ll land in a fiery blaze at center ice, all those poor coupons fluttering to the ground around it. Poor blimp.

Katebits: And the PA guy is going to let you scream “OH THE HUMANITY” over the loud speakers as the blimp goes down.

Heather B: When I get restless I’m gong to go sit under the press box and throw peanuts at the reporters while chanting, “Blogs! Blogs! Blogs! Blogs!” and saying really loudly, “WOW, I CAN’T WAIT TO GO HOME AND WRITE ABOUT THIS ON MY BLOG!”

Katebits: Ha! Bucky is going to be SPUTTERING with rage with you taunting him, Heather.

Heather B: Of course we HAVE to hang out with Rob Ray between the benches. He’ll invite us both down, even if it is a tight squeeze.

Katebits: You, me, and Rob, squished in between the benches. I like it.

Heather B: Rob will surprise us with a deep, philosophical discussion about the state of the world and sports’ place in it.

Katebits: Oh, Rob loves talking about the role that sports can play as a psychological salve during these troubled times in history…..This is going to kick ass.

Heather B: It really, really is.

Katebits: Just stay sober enough to drive the train home, okay? Someone has to stay sober, and it’s not going to be me.

Heather B: Deal.

New Guy!

So long, Steve Bernier! We hardly knew ye.

Hellllo, Craig Rivet!

For a brief few minutes this afternoon a cranky cloud of despair settled over TWC headquarters. What? Bernier for a couple of draft picks? *shrilly* Please tell me they are going to do something, ANYTHING, about the defense!

Then, out of nowhere, comes my new grizzled hockey boyfriend, the alluring and feisty Craig Rivet!

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Hey, We Drafted a Giant!

Well, hot damn! About the only thing that could have sparked any genuine interest in the draft from me was if the Sabres drafted someone either freakishly tall or freakishly good at the viola. Guess what? We drafted a giant! Hooray!

I’m going to teach him to play the viola.

Enjoy

Every single hockey blog in the world is posting this commercial today, because it’s absolutely breathtaking.

A Taste

It was almost impossible for me to separate the experience of watching the Bandits win their Cup, from the hope I have that the Sabres can win their Cup someday too. Sitting in HSBC arena, surrounded by a full house of screaming people, watching a sport that resembles hockey in so many ways…I couldn’t stop myself from thinking (just for a second), “Oh, man. What would this be like with the Sabres?” There was a CUP, you guys, and they held it above their heads, passing it from teammate to teammate. Last night was like……a taste. It was a little taste of what it might feel like if it were hockey instead of lacrosse, and the Sabres instead of the Bandits. From that perspective, the Bandits game was a little thrilling, and a little unsettling.

I don’t really feel comfortable thinking too much about the Sabres winning the Cup. I want it to happen, and I hope that someday it will, but it seems almost garish to give it too much space in my imagination. Maybe it’s because I’m a new fan, and I largely missed out on the years when winning it all seemed like a reasonable possibility, but the very idea of a championship in Buffalo is nothing more than a vague, desperate desire. It’s almost painful to let those images into my mind because of how wonderful it would be, and how far away it feels.

But there is another, less depressing way of looking at it; thinking about the Stanley Cup too much feels like focusing on something that we don’t have, when in reality we have so much. I took a moment during the very last minute of the Bandits game, to mentally step back from the stress of the action, and to absorb what was going on all around me in the stands, and it was wonderful. Last night, as I looked around HSBC arena, I felt very content with what we already have.

I don’t know if the Sabres will ever win the Cup, but until they do, I’m going to try to focus on the journey rather than the reward. The reward would certainly be sweet, but for right now, the journey is what’s real.

Fun!

Last night I got my first taste of human flesh quadruple overtime, and I have to say, QUADRUPLE OVERTIME ROCKS. Last night’s game was an odd beast for me. I started out the evening bound and determined NOT to watch any hockey. I went out, ate some barbecue with friends, and reluctantly turned on the television when I got home at about 10:30. I started watching during the second intermission of regulation. Little did I know, there was still a full game and a half yet to be played.

At first I was too tense and stressed out about the prospect of the Sharks forcing a Game 7 to enjoy the overtime. (I’m not proud of it, but cheering against Soupy became my most desperate rooting interest this year. More than any other thing, I wanted to see Soupy eliminated.) But, as the OTs piled up, I became less and less invested in the outcome of the game, and more and more invested in the game itself. It was zany, desperate, wild, and exhilarating. Adding to the overall thrill of such a goofy long game, I knew I could sleep in this morning so I wasn’t at all concerned about the late hour. This might sound weird, but it started to remind me of the times I have stayed up late waiting for the results of a particularly compelling political election, only instead of annoying/depressing politics, it was WONDERFUL HOCKEY! It was somehow exciting beyond the normal scope of a hockey game. I was in it for the long haul, and there was NO WAY I was going to sleep before I knew the outcome. It was a delicious treat.

Thank you, Hockey Gods! Thank you for reminding me to love playoff hockey for playoff hockey’s sake AND for eliminating the Rangers and the Sharks ALL IN THE SAME BEAUTIFUL DAY!

HNIC Towels

I thought this story (discovered via Kukla’s Korner) was incredibly cute. Apparently, the HNIC towels that we see draped over the shoulders of NHLers in interviews are highly coveted status symbols for the players. Hockey Night In Canada keeps them under tight lock and key, and the only way to get one is to appear on camera in an interview, and the only way to get interviewed is to be extra awesome in a game. Most of the NHLers grew up watching HNIC, and the towels seem to represent a dream realized.

You can’t buy that towel at Bed Bath and Beyond.

How badly do you want a HNIC towel now? I really really really want one of those towels. Due to the fact that I’m old, out of shape, a woman, and severely unathletic, I have very little chance of becoming a professional hockey player. It seems highly unlikely that I will ever be the recipient of the coveted HNIC towel….but that didn’t stop me from imagining having it draped around my shoulders at my moment of triumph.

For some reason this story got me thinking about how my entire life, I’ve harbored little dreams that are so far removed from reality that they might as well involve me sprouting wings and flying. I spent much of my childhood preparing for my eventual career as a Minnesota Twin. My preparation did not involve playing or practicing baseball (Oh, hell no), but rather sitting around imagining playing baseball. My dream of becoming a baseball player back then was really no less ridiculous than the moment I took to covet the HNIC towel today.

Reading about the HNIC towel, I was delighted to be reminded that these childhood dreams are universal. This dream is a big part of why we watch sports, and it’s why the towels have value amongst very wealthy men. It’s nice that our little childhood dreams still have value, and it’s even better that sometimes that value is represented by something as simple as one small white towel.

Elation/Misery

I think it’s really disconcerting when a team fights back in the last moments of regulation to tie a game, only to lose in overtime. It seems like such a slap in the face to the otherwise perfectly good heroics. It’s happened twice in two games in the Wild/Avs series. I feel like this is the Hockey Gods’ way of telling us to live-it-up/pray-for-death while we can, because you just never know when you’re going to get punched-in-the-gut/shot-out-of-a-joy-cannon.