The Boston Bruins, A 2010-2011 Odyssey: Top Twelve Highlights

*June 7, 2011 in Boston's North End
(image courtesy of AMHL Photographer)

The new NHL season is upon us and the Bruins will raise the championship banner tomorrow. So, let’s rewind—one last time—the 2010–11 season.

My Top Twelve Highlights:

1. The Odyssey Begins in Belfast: Sean Thornton and Patty Cleary return to their roots.

2. Big Zed’s Hat Trick: First career three-goal game as Bruins beat Hurricanes, 7–0.

3. Hello Chris Kelly, Rich Peverley, and Tomas Kaberle: Farewell Blake Wheeler and Mark Stuart (both a plus-8 with the B’s in 2010–2011).

4. 6–0 Road Trip: Including a win over the Canucks, the six-game sweep is B’s first since 1971–72.

Commercial Time Out, this recap brought to you by Puckbite

Da Hawks – Da Habs: Fast skating, precision passes short and long, sustained focus and passion and an uncanny reading of the play. That's what I admire most in hockey. There was lots of it on April 5, 2011, at Montreal's Centre Bell, when the Hawks faced the Habs. Both teams embody these qualities when they bring their A game and they were all in that night. Skillful, disciplined play. No head shots, no cheap shots. No trash talk, taunting, posturing or whining. Montreal took 10 minutes in penalties and Chicago 8. Each one 2 minutes. Crawford and Price were solid in the nets. 43 shots for the Hawks, 35 for the Habs. Beautiful wristers from Cammalleri and Kane in the second. With Subban's peremptory one-timer in OT, the Canadiens took it 1-2 and clinched a spot in the finals. If only the NHL could be like this every night. Perhaps we have to thank Scotty Bowman's big influence on both these teams and others, like the Penguins and Red Wings, over the years.

5. Michael Ryder’s Glove Save: The B’s forward reprised his role as Bonavista (NL) ball hockey goalie as the Bruins beat the Habs in Game Five.

6. Timmy Thomas, Game Two against the Flyers: Fifty-two saves in a History-Will-be-Made victory.

7. Andrew Ference to David Krejci to Nathan Horton: The Hockey Goddesses, at least one of them, are rooting for the Bruins.

8. *Stanley Cup Finals, A day before Game Four: Boston's revered Paul shouts, “The British Columbians are coming; the British Columbians are coming.” (He didn't really say that.)

9. Game Seven, Patrice Bergeron: Patty Cleary scores the game-winner and then a shortie to complete the Bruins’ odyssey.

10. Vancouver Fans Applaud Tim Thomas.

11. The Bruins Locker Room: Zdeno Chara holding Claude Julien’s five-year-old daughter, Katryna. (Dear Reader: If you've got a picture of it, please send to me.)

12. Katryna and the Cup, for the little kid in all of us: “Best of all, I like winning it.”

On the Shelf, Part V: Just in Time

“…Nothing hurting. Nothing sore. No one suffers anymore. The doctor’s found a simple cure. Just in time.”

-“When I am I King”
Great Big Sea

I miss playing hockey but am trying to count my blessings. The hockey and donut gods (I bet at least fifty percent live in Canada) have followed me more closely than they usually do, perhaps because the lower body injury I incurred six weeks ago is taking its own sweet time in healing. The deities haven’t cured my torn and tender iliopsoas but have delivered other extraordinary gifts.

On October 4th, the AMHL Photographer (a.k.a. my wife) and I watched the Bruins lose to the Islanders, and then we took the Green Line to the Theater District. We went to a comedy show, and a donut fight broke out. Almost. The warm-up dude (dude because he’s from California) for TV’s Craig Ferguson mentioned Krispy Kreme. I heard myself boo. And I wasn’t the only one. We caught him off guard, but the comedian recovered, joking that the audience was coming after him with “pitchforks and torches.”

On October 16th, Fort Collins’s Mr. Hockey (a.k.a. my dad) arrived from Colorado. The next morning, with my wife behind the wheel, we drove to Ottawa. We watched, from section 106, Row D (two rows behind the B’s bench) the Bruins beat the Senators, 4–2. The $176.00 (per seat) was a splurge but well worth it if only for providing a close-up view of Aaron Ward’s mouthpiece. After conducting extensive undercover ops, we returned to Boston—to watch a hockey game on October 20th.

The Bruins, in their home opener, would lose to the Penguins in a shootout, but to watch Mark Stuart during the pre-game ceremony was priceless. In numerical order, Bruin after Bruin heard his name announced and then glided to the blue line. Stuart, (Number 45) watched Aaron Ward (Number 44) embark for the blue line as Stuart waited for his turn. “Number 46, David Krejci.” Stuart, still waiting in the tunnel, shrugged his shoulders and then walked to the back of the line…“Number 91, Marc Savard.” Before the house lights came on and the smoke machine was dissembled, though, Stuart (unannounced) stepped on to the ice and raised his stick to acknowledge the cheering crowd. Then he joined his guffawing teammates.

My own teammates were in the locker room this Thursday morning when, for the first time in six weeks, I was on the ice, a stick in my hands and a helmet on my head. After a few tentative clockwise twirls around Rink Two and then a few counter-clock wise rings around the center face-off circle, I returned to the scene of my injury. Backwards, I crossed my left foot over my right and then vice-versa. No pain. I retrieved a puck, aimed for the seam in the boards, and then wristed a shot toward the target. Right on.

On Friday night, my wife and I and two non-hockey friends were at the Orpheum Theatre for a Great Big Sea show. We listened to front man Alan Doyle segue from one song to another. Boston is a great hockey town, he said, and “Helmethead” is a great hockey song.

“Helmethead,” “When I am King”…they’re Something Beautiful, and they came just in time. “Lucky Me.” Amen.

On the Shelf, Part IV: Midnight Hockey

Iliopsoas is a fickle muscle, difficult to spell and even more difficult to determine when it’s ready for real action. Yesterday, I rode the exercise bike and then stretched, but iliopsoas is not ready for ice time. So while I’m still on the shelf from my early morning hockey games (my Capitals are doing just fine without me), so I give to you this review: a book about hockey (and beer).

Midnight Hockey: all about BEER, the BOYS, and the REAL CANADIAN GAME
By Bill Gaston

Like slamming back a few cold ones without any intermissions, I drank in this book in one sitting. A few year ago and in the passenger seat while the AMHL Photographer drove from St. John’s to Channel-Port aux Basques, Newfoundland, I laughed often as I became drunk on hockey.

Beer is what Gaston says is one of the “seductions that make the return to the rink an annual rite.” His book, written in a refreshing steady stream of consciousness, is not only a collection of his hockey memories, like playing in France, China, and Japan, but also a venue for venting his thoughts on hockey. Gaston offers colorful takes on everything from nicknames (Gaston answers to “Thrasher” and “Gasser”) to teams’ names (one of his favorites is Friends of Jesus). Gasser does so in the context of what may be his last season of oldtimers hockey. The defenseman pops in some goals and pops some tops with his pals, and the reader is left with a fantastic hockey hangover.

If you’re a hockey player, this book belongs on your shelf.

Bruins Development Camp: Time Will Tell

Saturday, July 12th 2008
Wilmington, MA

Across the street from Ristuccia Memorial Arena, the AMHL Photographer and I are at Dunkin’ Donuts, waiting for our food order.

“That’s a perfect clock for you” she says, directing my gaze to the wall behind me.

The chronometer features orange and fuchsia letters forming in a circle: DUNKIN DONUTS. The little hand is almost on the D where a 9 would be, the big hand on the D where the 12 would be.

The last day of development camp starts at 9:30, so my wife and I get our order to go…to join the other fans at Ristuccia.

Inside the arena, others in the gathering crowd are enjoying their morning coffees as professional hopefuls take the ice.

A few observations:

-Michael Hutchinson is dressed like he’s the Bonavista (NL) lighthouse. Red and white stripes run down his leg pads, and protecting his head is a glowing red bulb that rivals Rudolph’s nose. Hutch may look like a lighthouse, but he’s as quick as a cat this morning in the early drills.

-St. Stephen (NB) native, former Bruin defenseman, and Director of Player Development Don Sweeney (pictured above) is running the show. Chocolate Town’s favourite son looks as slim as a Thin Mint as he barks instructions to his charges.

-In one-on-one drills, defenseman Denis Reul pressures forward Levi Nelson, but the huge blueliner can’t contain the determined attacker from firing once—zinging the puck off the post—and then from collecting the rebound to shoot again. This time Nelson nicks the other post but doesn’t score

-The AMHL Photographer likes the sound of Maxine Sauve’s name. I like his speed and hustle. The forward from Boisbriand (QC) skirts around a D-man and then puts the puck past the goalie. Without stopping, Sauve continues the drill, charging back down the ice on a back-checking assignment. Sauve reaches his target, and then rubs him out of the play. A defenseman’s dream come true!

I’m not the only defenseman in the crowd, which I estimate at 600. Behind me is a fellow who skates in the Top Shelf Hockey League in Hudson (NH). He won’t make it to the NHL or even lead his league in goals (remind you of any hockey writers you know?), but he’s good on the power play. The All Day Power Play.

If you’d like to join him and other players in a pick-up hockey marathon, held on July 26-27 to benefit the Nashua Children’s Home, please visit All Day Power Play’s Web site today.

Back on the ice, the developing Bruins participate in a spirited scrimmage. Will any of them make it to the Show this year? Or next? Or ever? Time will tell.

Sounds of St. John’s

This piece was inspired by August Rush, the movie we saw while in St. John’s, Newfoundland.

I hark back to Friday, November 23, 2007.

Cape Spear: a thick fog clutches and grabs Canada’s most easterly point. The pervasive grayness obscures the Atlantic Ocean and reduces my vision to about half a kilometer.

It forces me to listen: one toot, and then another fills the air.

“It’s like they’re singing to each other,” my wife says.

As the professional photographer explores the scene for opportunities to capture visual memories, I tune into the horn section. The tuba-sounding blast takes center stage; its orchestrated performance lasts only about four and a half seconds, echoing into the fog for another good four seconds. But every forty-five seconds, it returns for an encore.

Mixed into this symphony is the seemingly un-orchestrated blare of what may be a distant boat, its origins impossible to discern for the fog. But that predominant foghorn sounds close-by. Where does it originate?

I walk north from the lighthouse, down a sloped path. The ocean is quiet—not like in the summer when the sound of blue-green waves crashing, towering ice bergs toppling, and whales surfacing have filled my ears—and calm. I approach a square white edifice.

Boom! The powerful alert emanating from the squat structure buckles my knees.

Later, I stand atop Signal Hill. I could see Cape Spear to my south on a fogless day, but not today. The fog is not as thick as it was on Cape Spear, but it’s unyielding, insisting me to eavesdrop on Mother Nature.

Facing The Narrows and beyond to St. John’s Harbour, I hear what sounds like a sail bellowing. A gull’s wings have rippled in the stiff wind. The bird joins a group flying south but then circles left before rejoining the band, which now approaches the harbor. The bird flapping to the beat of a different drummer exits stage right and then disappears into the fog. Alone.

The flock of seagulls flaps toward George Street. The band of birds is unaware that later tonight and into Saturday morning on St. John’s most vibrant street, my wife and I will dance to music from the 80s (and the 70s and 90s). “I Ran (So Far Away)” won’t be on 709’s (a super-charged cover band named for Newfoundland’s area code) playlist, and we won’t sing to each other. But our eardrums will get a workout.

Canadian Espionage: Dark Blue Matrix

Apologies—or as Canadians are prone to say, soory (rhymes with story)—for not filing a report sooner. I dared not risk a security breech while “on vacation” with the AMHL Photographer You see, a dark blue Toyota Matrix—it may have been one ubiquitous, obsessed counter-intelligence agent or a fleet of them—tracked our every move since we arrived in St. John’s on Thursday morning. INTERPOL conducted surveillance on us whether we were at Cape Spear, at the Avalon Mall, or at our safe house.

Saturday, November 24,
Local time: 7:45 p.m. (6:15 p.m. Eastern Time)

While my wife catches up on reading at our safe house on Military Road, I slink into the night. Chilly but no threat of precipitation. My mission: retrieve valuable information about the Fog Devils from the dead drop.

Ten minutes later, I find the information, which I need for a future report, in The Independent. I commit the data to memory. (I also purchased a cheese pizza—to go). Just then, sirens blare. Are the local authorities collaborating with INTERPOL? Is my wife, who knows little about my life as a spy, safe? Is my mission in jeopardy?

I walk calmly, not wanting to attract attention, back from whence I came. I pass the Benevolent Irish Society’s brick building. I continue walking...I look right, down Garrison Hill. The steep street leads to the well-lit harbor. Across “The Narrows” connecting the Atlantic Ocean with the waterfront, Signal Hill—where the first transatlantic wireless transmission is reported to have been received—rises majestically; atop it, Cabot Tower points to the generous moon. Then I look left at the illuminated Basilica of St. John the Baptist. This peaceful panorama belies the potential peril awaiting me.

Five minutes later, I reach the safe house. No sirens. No activity. Nothing out of place—except across the street, an unattended dark blue Matrix is parked. Could it be the same one—the only car, besides our rented Chrysler Sebring, in the parking lot yesterday and again today at Cape Spear? No doubt the authorities tailing me are aware that I’ve returned and are prepared to intercept my Wi-Fi signal.

Unable to file my report to my superiors, I sit with my wife, devouring St. John’s best pizza. She reads while I watch Hockey Night in Canada. Philadelphia Flyers at Ottawa Senators. Unstable goaltending on both sides, but it’s an entertaining game. 4–3 Philly after two.

Bam bam! A knock on the door! INTERPOL?

No, just the safe house’s operator wanting to know if I’d join the consortium of air cargo moguls and their wives gathered in the formal dining room for post-dinner merriment around the fireplace.

Of course (everyone envies the life of spy until they realize how dangerous the work is).

The small group, some of whom I met at breakfast this morning, is curious about my connection to Canada. I share unclassified, low-level information with them about previous visits to Newfoundland, our love for hockey, etc., all of which is documented here on this public site). And as the liquor flows into their glasses and then into their digestive systems—I abstain—so does the intelligence escape their lips.

But you know I can’t reveal that classified information. Not here. Not now. I’ve probably told you too much already. Even so, maybe after I retire, maybe I’ll make public the secrets I’ve learned on this trip—I’ve scribbled nineteen pages of notes—in a book I might title The Adventures of a Canadian Spy.

Stay tuned, however, for a piece I’ll post later this week: Sounds of St. John’s.

If You Could Read My Mind

Image provided courtesy of www.lightfoot.ca


“If you could read my mind,” as the Gordon Lightfoot song title goes…

…you could tell that Canada has been on my brain this week. I’ve been reading Vinyl Café Diaries by Stuart McLean, whom some might claim is the Canadian equivalent of Garrison Keillor. McLean accentuates his bust-a-gut funny stories about Dave, who owns and operates a record shop in Toronto, and his family, with references to hockey.

On Rink Two on Thursday morning, I was five feet in front of my goalie, Nova Scotia native Kenny “KISS Fan” Tarr (hello Lower Sackville readers) when Chris “Tower of” Power, from Toronto, wound up for a slap shot at the top of the circle to my right Get out of the way? Skate out to meet the Al Iafrate of the AMHL? I froze like Northern Saskatchewan in early January as the puck whistled past me and then past my screened goalie.

Meanwhile, the Maple Leafs were probably sound asleep in a Boston hotel, resting for Thursday night’s game against the Bruins. The Bs belted the Buds as the AMHL Photographer and I cheered from our TV room.

The high-def TVs at the 99 Restaurant on Friday night offered customers sight but no sound. Bellied up to the bar and waiting for dinner, I watched ESPN’s Pardon the Interruption; toward the end of one segment, Tony Kornheiser waved a Canadian flag. Why? I knew that he isn’t Canadian, so I’d have to investigate this weekend.

On Saturday morning at Dunkin’ Donuts, while my wife read the sports section in The Boston Globe, I opened the paper’s “Sidekick” section to learn that Canada was assigned dishonorable mention in “Punch Lines” and that “This Day in History” indicated that Gordon Lightfoot, the iconoclastic singer whom the Maple Leafs named honorary captain in 1992, was born in 1938.

Back at home in Maynard, I hopped on the Internet to solve the mystery of Mr. Kornheiser’s gesticulation of the Maple Leaf. Pardon the Interruption is aptly named for Canadians: The show that airs on Canada’s TSN abruptly ends for viewers north of the 49th parallel—they’re transferred to TSN’s SportsCentre—while American viewers watch, if not hear, "The Big Finish" on ESPN.

Later on Saturday morning, I tuned in to ESPN 890 for the New England Hockey Journal Radio Show with Kevin Paul Dupont and Mick Colageo. After discussing Glen Murray’s goal- scoring drought, and then the induction of Mark Messier and Ron Francis to the Hall of Fame, Mick and Dupes bantered with the Toronto Star’s Damien Cox. What about the Leafs… How about Doug Armstrong losing his GM job in Dallas…What about the possibility of the Toronto Argonauts playing the New England Patriots?

“Woo!” I said when it was my turn to chime in. “That’s what I’ll say when Murray scores two goals in first period tonight.” I then told the guys they forgot to mention Al MacInnis in their Hall of Fame discussion. Murray and MacInnis, I said, are both from Nova Scotia. I signed off by telling them I’d call from Newfoundland next Saturday.

The AMHL Photographer and I leave on Thursday, so that doesn’t give me much time to update my iPod with a Gordon Lightfoot tune or two.

Week In Review: Short Shifts

NESN personality Hazel Mae (she’s Canadian) reported yesterday morning that the Bruins had painted the new logo on TD Banknorth Garden’s floor. The boys are skating at Ristuccia Arena in Wilmington until training camp opens next Thursday at the Garden.

The team travels to St. John’s, Newfoundland (where the AMHL photographer and I will be in late November), for the first of six pre-season games, on September 18th. There on “the Rock” they’ll battle the New York Islanders, whom Boston will face again in “the Hub” to conclude the pre-season.

The Bruins open the regular season on October 5th in Dallas. The next morning, the New England Hockey Radio Show returns to ESPN 890.

Three weeks later, I’ll be in Lake Placid for CAN/AM hockey camp, hoping to improve my AMHL game.

In AMHL News…

… Scott Gelin will return from his two-week hiatus from Las Vegas. I know “what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas”, but I can disclose that Gelin (rhymes with “not tellin’”) has made time to check out this blog. His room at the Venetian must have come with free Internet access.

The Internet: Blues’ forward Peter Kokas, who’s second in AMHL all-time scoring, will be watching at least one AMHL game via streaming audio. The power forward busted the pinky toe on his right foot while walking up the stairs at home. Lame injury, lame excuse. But Kokas says, “No way is it going into a skate right now.” He’s questionable for Tuesday’s tilt against the Penguins.

Scott Arnold, a veteran AMHLer who missed the last two seasons with a bad back, has made a comeback. The Capitals’ forward has five points in three games so far, and his back is holding up just fine. Arnold says about next Thursday, “I’m coming back.”

Arnold’s would-be teammate Pete Bagley, an AMHL fixture, was ready to make the transition from referee to player—until a zebra shortage forced him back into black and white stripes. No matter; you’ll find “Bags” yucking it up in the donut room after games.

In donut news…

…Dunkin’ Donuts’ Pumpkin Spice creation, a fan favorite in the AMHL, has returned to the shelves in nearby Stow, MA. The tasty ring of joy has not found its way to the West Concord store, which supplies the post-game spread for AMHLers. But if you’re reading from Buffalo, maybe you’ll find this tempting masterpiece at a local Dunkin’ Donuts? I’ll let our donut friend in Buffalo, the Blognut, comment on that.

Until next time, hockey (and donut) fans, I’ll either see you at Ristuccia, Valley Sports, Dunkin’ Donuts–or at a great site I discovered today.

Icebergs and Espionage: Part Two

Cont'd from Part I...

June 2, 2007

On the run since Game One, which we watched from safe house number two on Monday night, I haven’t had opportunity to write until now. Game Three starts in less than an hour.

So, before the puck drops in Ottawa—where the mayor has declared certain portions of the capital city a no duck zone (as reported by the pre-game show folks at the CBC)—I’ll relay the highlights of this “secret” mission into Canada.

From Safehouse Number One in Deer Lake, Newfoundland: At breakfast, I gained the trust of a Bobby Orr fan from way back. My source, who shall remain nameless, attended school in Sault Ste. Marie with Wayne Gretzky. In "the Soo" he and the “Great One” were in the same geography (or perhaps it was geometry—that information is confidential). More importantly, my source’s sister turned down the teenage wonder’s request for a date, an act for which my informant has not yet forgiven her…

…On a day trip from Safehouse Number Two, the photographer and I documented the presence of at least thirty icebergs along the Bonavista peninsula, where Montreal Canadien standout Michael Ryder grew up. One source, at a local restaurant within plain view of the ‘bergs in the bay, let on that the Bruins’ nemesis has a brother that's also a talented player. Seems that the Ryders—the father is a teacher, the mother a nurse—have spent a lot of time at Cabot Stadum, the local rink…

…Taking no chances on staying more than one night in each location, the photographer and I fled for the Avalon peninsula—but not before I gained access to a highly secure area of a well-known “tire company” that sells, among other things, hockey sticks. The good stuff was not on display, so a double agent allowed me into the warehouse, whose swinging double doors were clearly marked “Restricted Access.” Then I selected an inexpensive Joe Sakic Easton model, which I’ll debut on Thursday morning…

…Our case officer in St. John’s met us for dinner—we gathered at table along the wall, so I could survey the sidewalk scene for our pursuers—at an eatery on Water Street. After signing the jacket of the CD I had purchased at a well-known music establishment, he said he’d leave an envelope for us at the restaurant at which we would eat tomorrow’s lunch.

The next afternoon at the dead drop (that's what we spies call the location where confidential materials can be retrieved), the white, business-sized envelope-stuffed with vital materials. We reviewed its contents and then enjoyed the finest pizza (half cheese, half pepperoni and pineapple) available in the Fog City…

…On the eve of our penultimate day in the province, a black Dodge Nitro parked next to us as we admired an iceberg that had materialized from the fog earlier that day. The trio of operatives (they were trying far too hard to look inconspicuous, so they had to be the enemy), parked next to us—so we split the scene in a hurry, taking a detour to Safehouse Number Three. The Nitro was already in the neighborhood, but our stealth prevailed as we out-maneuvered the opposition.

Unwilling to risk blowing our cover, the photographer and I drove (she did all the driving while I scanned the Trans Canada Highway for potential secret agents and moose) the whole day to catch an overnight ferry back to the mainland.

Upon exiting our vessel in North Sydney, Nova Scotia, we drove the length of the province, which Anne Murray, Glenn Murray, and Kenny Tarr call home, entered New Brunswick (where I immediately called my contacts at the New England Hockey Journal Radio Show), and then sped to a secret seaside location not far from the Can-Am border.

Now, after a meeting with a couple of “investment brokers” at a local pub (I recommend the fish 'n' chips), where we discussed future missions, we’re holed-up in Safehouse Number Four and watching the CBC pre-game. I’ll leave you with this shocking tidbit from Timbit Nation: there are more non-hockey fans here than one might expect--some didn't even realize there was a game tonight. I'm going to report them all to the proper authorities.