Katebits: Oh hi, Mike Grier.
Mike Grier: Hi, Katebits.
Katebits: Congrats on the new contract.
Mike Grier: Thanks.
Katebits: Just admit it.
Mike Grier: Admit what?
Katebits: You love us.
Mike Grier: I’ll admit no such thing.
Katebits: (poking Mike Grier in the side) You loooove us.
Mike Grier: (batting Katebits away) Stop being foolish.
Katebits: (singing) Buffalo and Mike Grier, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marria-
Mike Grier: Stop this at once!
Katebits: Okay, I’ll stop. But I know the truth.
Mike Grier: …..(death glare)
Katebits: (under breath) You love us.
Mike Grier: Not true.
(Mike Grier winks devilishly)
Katebits: I SAW THAT. You winked.
Mike Grier: (sternly) Wrong. That never happened.
Katebits: Okay, okay. You don’t love us, and you never winked. You’re the boss.
Mike Grier: Exactly.
Archive for the 'Scenes' Category
Katebits: Oh hi, Mike Grier.
Like all Sabres fans, I’ve spent the better part of today wondering, “What went wrong? How did this happen?”
Before this series began, I didn’t know what to expect. This was my first experience with the fast pace of the playoffs, and even though the series outcome was ultimately disappointing, I think I learned a lot. For example, I can now definitively tell you, based on my experience as a fan, that getting knocked out of the first round of the playoffs BLOWS. I canNOT recommend that your team get eliminated by a division rival in the first round. No siree. If someone asks you if you’d like to see your team lose to the Bruins in round one, you should say, “NO,” loud and clear.
This might be confusing for some, so I’ve compiled a list of possible scenarios and suggestions for how you should react should any of these scenarios arise. Hopefully, if you follow these scripts, we can avoid this kind of devastating loss in the future.
Tim Connolly: Hey, Sabres fan! How would you feel about watching me skate around doing nothing for an entire playoff series?
You: BAD. PLEASE DON’T DO THAT.
Tim Connolly: What if, after it was all over, I told you I was comPLETEly healthy?
You: What? No! If you suck you better be hurt!
Tim Connolly: Nope!
You: No thanks, man.
Chara: Hello, Buffalo! I hear your babies are tender and delicious. I would like to eat them in front of you. Is this alright with you?
You: No, Chara. You may NOT eat our babies.
Lindy Ruff: I have a job for life!
Darcy Regier: It’s true, he does!
You: I’m not cool with this.
Lindy Ruff: And that’s why you’re BENCHED.
You: You can’t bench me.
Darcy: Yes he can. You…benched.
Lindy Ruff: And you know what else? Scoring goals is for weenies! CASE CLOSED!
You: I am 100% opposed to you right now.
Boychuk: I’m going to take out your best player.
You: ….Mike Grier?
Boychuk: NO NOT MIKE GRIER, THOMAS VANEK! I’m going to hobble Vanek. What do you think of that?
You: I am NOT IN FAVOR of that, you unbelievable bastard.
Jochen Hecht’s pinky: I am a delicate flower. Long and tapered. So pretty.
You: Are you required for playing hockey?
Jochen Hecht’s pinky: Surprisingly, yes.
You: Here. Take these steroids.
Thomas Vanek: I’m going to singlehandedly win this series for the Sabres!
You: Hell yeah you are! WOOO!
Thomas Vanek: ….unless I get hurt.
You: Are you going to get hurt?!
Thomas Vanek: Yeeeah. I am.
You: NO! BAD PLAN! THAT’S A BAD PLAN!
You: Uh, hi McCormick.
Torres: My name is Torres. I was good in Columbus. Darcy traded for me at the deadline.
You: Whatever, McCormick. Whatever.
Crunchy: Hey, fan. I think I’m going to shave my beard into a mustache.
You: That is a GREAT idea.
Crunchy: I know. But…I hate to tell you this, but my mustache won’t make the powerplay any better.
You: I find that hard to believe.
Crunchy: Believe it.
You: Well then, I think you should shave your facial hair into a shape that WILL make the powerplay better.
Crunchy: Good idea!
Derek Roy: Remember how we never gave up leads during the regular season?
Derek Roy: What if during the playoffs, we DID give up leads? Wouldn’t that be exciting?
You: No. Absolutely not. That would NOT be exciting. NO.
Derek Roy: So, we should give up leads then?
You: NO, DO NOT GIVE UP LEADS.
Derek Roy: I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying, so I’m just going to go ahead and let the Bruins catch up.
You: NO. DO NOT DO THAT.
Derek Roy: Okay then. Giving up the lead, it is.
You: NO! NO! NO! NO! KEEP THE LEAD.
Derek Roy: Leads are lame. I hear you loud and clear.
*this is when you should strangle Derek Roy*
Hockey Gods: Would you rather miss the playoffs altogether, or watch the Sabres get creamed by a division rival?
You: I want them to make the playoffs.
Hockey Gods: Good call. Stay strong, Sabres fan.
You: Do I have any choice?
Hockey God: Nope.
I hope this helps, dear reader! Next year we’re going to have to work together to avoid getting knocked out in the first round. If we stick to the system, we can succeed (…next year).
If you’re like me, you find yourself lost and adrift. Half enraged, half sad, and against all reason, half hopeful.
It turns out, I don’t know how to write about the Sabres when they’re in the playoffs. If they’d played these last two games in the regular season, I’d write something ranging from, “GODDAMN IT, SABRES! PULL YOURSELVES TOGETHER YOU MINCING LITTLE TURDS,” to, “The Sabres are making me sad and weary.”
But things are different in the playoffs. Even though the Sabres are FRUSTRATING ME TO THE POINT OF EXHAUSTION, deep down inside, I want to keep rooting for these little bastards. I don’t want to get too cranky, because they’re only down 2-1….and I love them. If they win tomorrow the series is tied up and they have home ice advantage again. Seriously now, this situation is not the end of the world. But I’ll admit, the Sabres do make me feel all the-end-is-nigh-y when I watch them play hockey. They looked terrrrible last night.
Basically, I’m feeling topsy-turvy and confused.
My feelings are so conflicted. I don’t want to attack the Sabres too viciously, because I want to be able to love them without reservation the NANOSECOND they stop sucking. I need to leave myself an out so that when they pull themselves together, I can rightfully say, “I loved them all along!” But even though I want to leave the door open for further Sabres lovin’, I ALSO WANT TO PERSONALLY STRANGLE THEM WITH MY BARE HANDS. I’m a mess.
I’m reminded of that plot device used in old cartoons, where the protagonist has a little angel on one shoulder, and a devil on the other. The angel is telling me to keep the faith, and the devil is telling me to turn on WGR and surrender to the soul-scorching frustration.
My angel and my devil have been at it all morning, and rather than attempt to write a nuanced interpretation of the game or my thoughts about the series so far, I think the best course of action is to simply transcribe these conversations. I’m way too confused for analysis.
Devil: WAKE UP
Angel: (gently) No, stay asleep! It’s your day off.
Devil: WAKE UP AND CLEAN THE HOUSE. HEY, REMEMBER THAT SABRES GAME FROM LAST NIGHT? THAT SUCKED, DIDN’T IT. I BET THEY’RE TALKING ABOUT IT ON THE RADIO. YOU SHOULD TURN ON THE RADIO.
Angel: Hush, Katebits. Don’t wake up. Stay in your cozy bed.
Katebits: (opens eyes) Damn it.
Advantage, Devil. Score: 1-0, Devil
Devil: WHAT is with the Sabres? Talk about a bunch of pusses. They let the Bruins completely manhandle them. Everyone should be fired!
Angel: It was only one game. The series is 2-1. There is still plenty of time for adjustments.
Devil: Adjustment?! Like a heart transplant? An injection of guts?
Angel: We’ve seen them play physically before. It can be done.
Devil: But the Sabres are weenies. All of them.
Angel: Not Steve Montador.
Katebits: Yeah! Not Steve Montador!
Devil: Okay, not Steve Montador, but ALL of the rest of them.
Katebits: (sadly) Yeah.
Advantage, draw. Score: 1-0 Devil
Angel: Chara is unbelieveably gross.
Katebits: I HATE THAT GUY SO MUCH.
Advantage, Angel. Score: 1-1 tie
Devil: The powerplay is an embarrassment.
Devil: Whoever is in charge of the power play should be fired….
Devil: …and executed
Advantage, Devil. Score: 2-1, Devil
Angel: The Sabres really haven’t had to deal with injuries this season and now they’re suddenly without Hecht and Vanek. This is a big deal. It’s true that they are having trouble adjusting, but it’s also true that there is still time to make adjustments. Everyone says Lindy is a great playoff coach. He’ll right the ship.
Devil: THAT IS BULLHONKY. Every team deals with injuries. If the Sabres can’t handle it, they stink.
Angel: But there is STILL TIME for them to handle it, and it’s a mental adjustment more than anything else. They played hard in game one, they can do it again.
Devil: I don’t think they can!
Katebits: They can.
Advantage, Angel. Score 2-2 tie
Devil: Tim Connolly and Derek Roy are COMPLETE sacks of poo.
Angel: Yes but…they’re under contract for the next million years. Wait…no! That’s not what I meant to say!
Devil: Ha! I got you!
Angel: No you didn’t.
Devil: Yes, I did. Connolly, Roy-Z, sacks of poo.
Angel: Well, sacks of poo aren’t all bad. You can sprinkle a sack of poo on your garden and it will help your flowers grow.
Katebits: While sacks of poo ARE useful in the garden, they are also affordable and readily available at Home Depot. I do NOT need to see sacks of poo skating around the ice in Sabres uniforms.
Advantage, Devil. Score: 3-2, Devil
Angel: The Sabres sucked donkey balls last night, but the Bruins only barrrrely beat them.
Devil: Oh, that’s because the Bruins aren’t that good at hockey.
Angel: Exactly! If the Sabres just adjust their game dial to “half suck” instead of “full suck,” they should be able to take this series.
Devil: You say that like “half suck” is an actual option.
Katebits: I’ll accept it. “Half suck” is admissible.
Advantage, Angel. Score: 3-3, tie
Devil: The game was in standard definition. The Sabres don’t even love you enough to provide their PLAYOFF games in HD.
Advantage, Devil. Score, 4-3, Devil
Devil: The Sabres are never scoring again, and Vanek will NEVER drill a blowhole, so he’s probably done for the season.
Angel: The Sabres CAN score!
Devil: Oh yeah? Which ones?
Angel: Um…Mike Grier?
Advantage, Devil. Score: 5-3, Devil
Devil: Miller really should have had that first Bruins goal last night.
Angel: (punches Devil in the face)
Advantage, Angel Score: 5-4, Devil
So, that’s where things sit. The Devil has a slight edge, but it’s sunny outside, and as soon as I get done writing this post I’m going to go sprinkle some Derek Roy and Tim Connolly organic fertilizer on my garden, so the day is looking up.
Keep fighting the good fight, angels.
Let’s go Buff-a-lo!
Guess what, you guys! Ryan Miller called me up earlier today and told me he wanted to give TWC an exclusive interview! I know! This is so exciting and unexpected! I mean sure, Ryan is a nice guy, but who would ever expect him to go out of his way to give a lowly blogger an interview? It’s almost too good to be true!
Here’s the transcript of our conversation:
Katebits: (answers phone) You’ve reached TWC headquarters. Whenever there’s trouble, we’re there on the double. How may I direct your call?
Ryan Miller: I’d like to speak to Katebits.
Ryan Miller: This is Crunchy.
Katebits: Shut up, Heather. I know it’s you. STOP PRANK CALLING ME, BEEYOTCH. (hangs up)
Katebits: (answers phone) You’ve reached TWC headquarters. Whenever there’s trouble, we’re there on the double. How may I direct your call?
Ryan Miller: I’d like to speak to Katebits
Ryan Miller: This is CrunchyDON’THANGUP!
Katebits: Heather, I’m serious. I’m gonna call the cops. Leave me alone.
Ryan Miller: I SWEAR I’M CRUNCHY.
Katebits: Oh really? Well, if you’re Crunchy, tell me something only Crunchy would know.
Ryan Miller: Lindy Ruff wears a mustache toupee.
Katebits: OH MY GOD, ARE YOU SERIOUS?! Holy mackerel. That’s scandalous. Hm. Well, that’s proof enough for me that this is Ryan Miller.
Ryan Miller: Please, call me Crunchy.
Katebits: Thank you. I will. So, Crunchy, how may I help you?
Ryan Miller: I just wanted to tell you that I am going to win the gold for SURE. Like, for SUPER DUPER MEGA FOR SURE. I guarantee it. You can write that down on your blog. ALSO, my girlfriend is going to win an Oscar. AND as god is my witness, by this time next year, I will be able to fly. You have my personal guarantee.
Katebits: (furiously scribbling all of the information down) Okay, let me make sure I’ve got all of this- You are guaranteeing that the Americans will win gold, that your girlfriend will win an Oscar, and that you will learn to fly by the end of the year?
Ryan Miller: Correct.
Katebits: How are you going to fly? That seems like a REALLY difficult task.
Ryan Miller: I can’t really get into the details, but I’m in the early stages of an experimental treatment which will generate wings. You can write that down on your blog.
Katebits: You’re growing wings?
Ryan Miller: Correct.
Katebits: Wow. This is going to be the blog scoop of the century. It seems so out of character for you to be making such bold predictions. Ordinarily you’re pretty careful not to sound too cocky.
Ryan Miller: Well this time I AM cocky. I’m cocksure, if you will. You can write that down on your blog.
Katebits: Alright, Crunchy. I’ll put all of this on the blog, exactly as you told it to me.
Ryan Miller: Thank you, Katebits. Also, Baba Booey.
Katebits: Sure thing, Crunchy. Thanks for calling in. Best of luck tomorrow, and….Baba Booey, to you and your family as well.
(Katebits hangs up)
So, there you have if folks! We’re WINNING THE GOLD TOMORROW! WOOOOOOOOOO!!!
INCREDIBLY DISTURBING UPDATE: It turns out that WASN’T Ryan Miller. It was that BEEYOTCH, Heather B*, pranking me. AGAIN.
The Willful Caboose would like to apologize to Ryan Miller for misrepresenting his name. We would also like to apologize to his girlfriend, and to the scientists who are feverishly working to grow him wings. We deeply regret this mistake.
*We would also like to apologize to Heather B, who had absolutely nothing to do with this post. We have no choice but to admit, that in this particular instance, she is not a beeyotch.
Scene: Lindy’s porch. Lindy and Tyler Myers are drinking some frosty beers.
Lindy: Dude, Tyler. Everyone is talking about you. Should we keep you up? Should we send you back to the juniors (where you apparently own the league)? Are you the future of the franchise? WHAT ARE THE SABRES GOING TO DO WITH TYLER MYERS?! It’s kind of redonk.
Tyler Myers: Totally redonk. (looking down at beer in hand) I don’t think I’m old enough to drink, Lindy.
Lindy: Seriously? How old are you?
Tyler Myers: I’m thirteen.
Lindy: YOU’RE THIRTEEN?! FOR THE LOVE OF LINDY RUFF, YOU’RE WAY TOO YOUNG FOR THE NHL!
Tyler Myers: No, no, I’m just kidding. I’m nineteen.
Lindy: Oh….well, that’s not THAT young.
Tyler Myers: That’s what I keep telling everyone!
Lindy: You made some poor choices with the puck on Thursday, kiddo.
Tyler Myers: Well, that’s gonna happen, sir. I’m a dumb nineteen year old. My doctor says my brains haven’t fully grown in yet.
Lindy: Thank goodness, because you’re kind of stupid on the ice….no offense.
Tyler Myers: None taken. My brains are underdeveloped…. but not my arms. I can reach clear across the rink with my stick.
Lindy I saw that. Pretty sweet.
Tyler Myers: Plus, that was just the first preseason game. And Lindy, I think I showed that I’m capable of improving quickly in juniors.
Lindy That’s true, you did.
Tyler Myers: And it’s not like you’d be breaking up The World’s Greatest Blueline in order to give me a shot. These guys kind of suck.
Lindy: (nodding) They sure do.
Tyler Myers: All I ask is that you just let me play for the full preseason and then the 9 NHL games before you decide to banish me to the junior for another year. Just give me a chance. I’m sick of juniors.
Lindy: From what I’ve seen of junior hockey I really don’t blame you.
Tyler Myers: Heather B says I need to “fill out”.
Lindy: Well, Lord knows I love Heather B, and she’s got a good point, but what if we’d kept Crunchy down in the AHL until he filled out? He’d still be there!
Tyler Myers: That guy is crazy skinny.
Lindy: (stroking his yellow goatee while contemplating) You know what? You and Crunchy can share your weight gain protein shakes. You can get one shake with two straws. That would be adorable!
Tyler Myers: And if I still suck after a month, or I refuse to drink my protein shakes, you can STILL SEND ME BACK.
Tyler Myers: (taking a swig from his beer) Beer is delicious.
Lindy: Now, see? You’re SUCH a fast learner, and that beer will fatten you up in NO time. You’re on you way, kid.
Tyler Myers: Thanks, Lindy.
Lindy: BUT, if you still suck in a month, you do have to go back to juniors.
Tyler Myers: No prob.
Lindy: Alrighty then. It’s all settled. And by “all settled” I mean “not settled at all”.
Tyler Myers: Perfect.
Mike Weber: Lindy, there IS another option. You could go the delayed gratification route.
Lindy: Hm. That’s true. It’s funny watching youngsters have to wait for things they desperately want. Especially via hidden camera.
Tyler Myers: Please don’t do that to me.
Lindy: But it WOULD be fun….
Katebits: Darcy, did you know that Clarke MacArther’s arbitration hearing is tomorrow?
Darcy Regier: No, Katebits. I did not know that.
Katebits: So, are you trying to sign him, or what? And what about Stafford and Sekera?
Darcy: What about them?
Katebits: Well, they’re RFAs. Do you have a plan for them?
Katebits: Um, Darcy….we don’t really have any new players, you haven’t made any trades, and our RFAs are mostly unsigned. What exactly have you been doing all summer? Besides LIVE CHATS with Kevin Sylvester, that is.
Darcy: Well, I went to the I-talian Festival yesterday.
Katebits: Me too! I ate Italian sausage and kettle corn. (pause) Seriously, though. What about the RFAs?
Darcy: Oh, whatevs.
Katebits: That’s your plan? “Whatevs?”
Darcy: Yup, pretty much.
(Darcy and Larry Quinn are lounging around a fancy office. Darcy is leaned all the way back in a chair with his feet up on the desk, and Larry is laying face down, draped over a couch on the other side of the room. A phone is ringing.)
Darcy: I’m bored.
Larry: Me too. (pause) I can’t wait for the fireworks this weekend.
Darcy: Fireworks are awesome.
Larry: (Picking head up from couch) Would you PLEASE answer that phone.
Darcy: YOU answer it.
Larry: Dude, I’m the boss of you. Answer it.
Darcy: It’ll stop in a minute.
Larry: Do you have any gum?
Darcy: No…..chewed it. (snaps gum)
Larry: Who do you think that is calling?
Darcy: I dunno. Probably some GM. They’ve been hassling me all day.
Larry: Ugh. I hate those guys.
(Jochen Hecht bursts into the room)
Hecht: OH MY GOD WILL SOMEONE ANSWER THE FLIPPING PHONE?! IT’S BEEN RINGING FOR TWENTY MINUTES!
(Darcy and Larry don’t move except to lift their heads to look at Hecht)
Larry: Answer it yourself, Fritz.
(Hecht sighs dramatically and picks up phone)
Hecht: (into phone) Darcy Regier’s office, this is Jochen Hecht speaking. (looks down at Darcy Reiger who nearly horizontal in his chair and blowing bubbles with his gum) No….he’s not available right now. Can I take a message? (begins scribbling things down on a pad) Okay, okay, I’ve got it. Thank you Mr. Burke, I’ll have him call you right back. Goodbye.
Darcy: (not moving) The Burkinator. That dude is kuh-RAZY. What did he want?
Hecht: (reading directly off notepad) Check your email….asswipe. Schenn for Tallinider is off the table.
Larry: HAHAHA! Brian Burke called you an asswipe, Darce.
Darcy: (mumbling) Whatever.
Hecht: (tosses pad onto desk in disgust) Shouldn’t you guys BE WORKING?!
Larry: We ARE working. (pause) We just took a call from Brian Burke.
Hecht: No you DIDN’T!
Darcy: Jochen, this is my quiet genius at work, okay? If you don’t like it, maybe you should go play for another team. (sarcastically) Oh wait….You CAN’T, can you? Nobody WANTS you on their team, do they?
Larry: Heh. Your contract is untouchable, dude.
Darcy: I’m hungry.
Larry: Me too.
Darcy: Oooh. You wanna get Jim’s for lunch, Lare?
(Larry leaps off the couch)
Larry: HELLZ YEAH I DO!
(Darcy leaps out of chair)
(Darcy and Larry high five and start a conga line out of the office)