Praise the Ward!!

What a fantastic finish, for both lovers of the Capitals and fans of pun-related headlines. The bar I was in was cracking from the first faceoff, and then emitted a scream best described as "primal joy" when Ward banged home the winner.

And I know it's the 21st century, and that we've elected a black president and thus ended racism in America, but I have to wonder: is this not the highest point a black man has ever reached in the realms of professional ice hockey? I mean, the list of black NHL players if fairly limited, and those who spring to my mind aren't exactly Hall of Fame-worthy. Kevin Weekes was a serviceable backup goalkeeper but no Braden Holtby, if you catch my drift. Donald Brashear was a stereotypical goon. Grant Fuhr won a cup and is the in the HOF, but he's only half-and-half genetically and was raised by whites, which means he hardly counts. Yes, I know, we're not to talk about race in the public domain (do you think we'll hear this sort of discussion on SportsCenter this week?) but these are the questions I have to ask.

Awkward racial discussions aside, the Capitals have put me in a joyous mood and I have beers to drink and thoughts to think and therefore must bid you a fond adieu, dear reader.

Chelsea v. Barca

Some days you're the windshield, some days you're the bug. Or, in Barcelona's case, you're the windshield moving 65 mph (105 kph, if they're playing in Camp Nou) that runs into a bug wearing Chelsea blue that was apparently created in a lab, given an adamantium exoskeleton, a penchant for parking the bus, and a flair on the counterattack (This is evidently the same lab that tore down and rebuilt Fernando Torres, replacing his malfunctioning scoring unit).

Rarely have I seen a team defend as resolutely as Chelsea did today, a display made even more impressive by doing it without proper center-backs. Terry definitely deserved his red card, regardless of what excuse he trots out about Sanchez stopping short or the devil making him do it or whatever. I, for one, thought that was the end of Chelsea's chances. Having already conceded, the crowd rocking, and the captain in the shower, I was pretty sure that was taps. I hadn't reckoned on the ability of Ramires to take the high road, Didier Drogba doing his best center-back impression, Petr Cech doing his best brick wall impression, and the timely resurrection of Fernando Torres.

Today also shone light onto the ugly underbelly of this Barcelona team, which is the fact that their back-line and keeper are actually fairly mediocre. Their best defensive strategy is their possession, which isn't all too bad of a thing given the quality of their possession play. But once they do (finally) give up the ball they're quite open at the back. The midfielders and forwards do a good job of pressuring immediately after turning it over, but if you can move the ball quickly after a takeaway there will be plenty of green to run into. Chelsea did a great job of that for all three of their goals in the tie. Granted, the circumstance was probably exacerbated by Barca's attacking desperation, but Real Madrid did something similar over the weekend in less dire circumstance.

The other problem they have is that Victor Valdes, to be honest, isn't very good. Oh, sure, he's good enough to play in La Liga and is vastly better than I or probably anybody reading this will ever be. But facts remain that Chelsea scored three goals on four attempts over the two legs of the semifinal. When Barcelona needed him to save the bacon, he was nowhere to be found. On Tuesday there was probably little that he could have done differently on Ramires' chip, but his dive at the feet of Torres in second-half stoppage time was, to be frank, pathetic. Even Fernando Torres--the butt of so many jokes these past months--was able to dribble around the prone keeper and find the empty net. It looked like a sniper hired by Roman Abramovich had taken him out at the last opportunity. It's a tough thing to do, to stand there idle for much of a half and then be called upon to keep the team in it, but it's what is required by the Catalans' no. 1. If Valdes can't prove that he can do that consistently, I think that they might have to look into finding somebody who can.

I had a slight rooting interest for Barcelona in this one, strictly because I think they play the more beautiful football, and nothing I saw today caused me to reconsider that stance. But them's the breaks, and I'd be lying if I said it wasn't an immensely enjoyable 2+ hours. Here's to hoping that Real and Bayern can give us comparably entertaining stuff tomorrow afternoon.

Kevin Gregg is the worst pitcher in baseball

There. I said it. This fucking guy is terrible. You know you're awful when even the Baltimore Orioles--the owners of the 14 consecutive losing seasons Baltimore Orioles--decide that you suck too much to be their closer. They don't even get enough leads to need a good closer, and they decided to go in a different direction than Kevin Gregg. Now he just gets to blow games in the middle innings, which produces the same result but is convenient from the fans' perspective because it saves us about an hour of suspense. Extra time to start drinking, which is the only way to console yourself that you still support a team who pays that jackass many, many times more than your annual wage.


I refuse to believe that there isn't anybody in professional baseball that is better than Kevin Gregg. For that matter I refuse to believe that there isn't anybody in amateur baseball that is better than Kevin Gregg. Somewhere in Japan, there surely must be a 19-year old phenom with a filthy slider and an anime fetish that we could sign. Hell, I'd be happy with some other mediocre 30-odd journeyman reliever, as long as he doesn't have those stupid RecSpecs and ability to inspire terror in the fanbase.  Good Christ, I need to go crack another beer or three after merely thinking about him long enough to write this.

FUUUUUUUUCK

Goddamned Chris Kelly went and ruined what had previously been a fine evening for the Capitals, who had been enjoying a nice defensive performance and excellent work from Braden Holtby in his first playoff start. I mean, it wasn't exactly the most titillating (heh heh heh) game in the world, but it was certainly much more exciting than the 0-0 scoreline would imply. In fact, if you were a fan of neutral zone turnovers, battles for pucks in the corners, and dumping and chasing you were happier than a pig in shit during game one. Also sure to be pleased were fans of jumping up excitedly as scoring chances materialized, only to sit down sheepishly when the onrushing attacker whiffed on his shot and the puck returned to its natural habitat along the boards.

As losses go this one really hurt, because it was such a different way to lose than I'd been anticipating. I was thinking it was going to be more along the lines of 5-3, with the Capitals jumping out in front early and then having a defensive lapse and/or a soft goal past Holtby derail them. As more and more time went by and the back end held up, the more you thought that Washington would be able to steal game one with a goal in the third. Alas, not tonight. I am doing my best to stay optimistic for the rest of the series, seeing now that our defense and goaltending have shown they can hang with the B's, but it's hard after such a deflating defeat. And unfortunately even my rose (crimson?) colored glasses can't overshoot the gross disparity in shots, and hits, and other such objective numbers.

So all in all I'm not feeling too great right now. The best I can say is that this year I was at least expecting an early elimination, unlike previous iterations of Lord Stanley's Challenge. It's much less exciting to be that cynical, but at least I won't get blindsided by the Tampa Bay Lightning again. So at least there's that.

Now reading

Well, rereading, technically, but at the moment it's The Exorcist by William Peter Blatty. I'd read it once before about...6 months ago, I think it was, but I finally got around to seeing the movie last week and wanted to see how closely the two meshed.  Quite closely, as it turns out. Due in no small part to Blatty's involvement in the movie version's production, I'm sure. I didn't think that the movie QUITE lived up to it's billing as "the scariest film of all time" but it was definitely a good one. The gore and grotesqueries were applied sparingly but they were definitely effectively when trotted out. I was never a big fan of pea soup to begin with, but I think I can safely swear it off forever after that one particular scene. You know the one I'm talking about.

Also recommended: A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson. It actually makes science comprehensible! And, although I can scarcely believe that me and my liberal-arts degree are typing this, it's even pretty interesting. Seriously. Your eyes will not cross of their own accord when you're reading this book.

Happy anniversary!

Roughly 1972 years ago today, Zombie Jesus rose from his tomb to try and spread the infection throughout the known world. Luckily for us, the ancient Middle Eastern-ers put an end to his shennanigans before civilization could be extinguished. Celebrate the memorial with lots of candy and beer!

Orioles magic!

I know, I know, it's only one game out of 162. The Moneyball-ers are screaming "small sample size!" in their heads and possibly (in extreme cases) aloud at their televisions. And I hardly think that one win portends anything significant for the remainder of the season. But dammit, it did feel good to watch the boys in black and orange step out there and put on a good show on Opening Day. Especially after losing to a community college in our last exhibition game. (Oh? You didn't hear about that?)

Much Greek love to Nick Markakis, he of the 3 RBIs and a shining beacon of Hellenic baseball prowess. And of course much love to Jake Arrieta for the seven shutout innings. A big thumbs down to Troy Patton, for making the ninth much more stressful than it needed to be. The first of many bullpen-induced anxieties, to be sure.

But for now, I'm content to crack open a Natty Boh and reflect on being undefeated in MLB play.

EDIT (7 April 2012): 2-0! Holy shit, it gets better and better! More Bohs for everybody!

EDIT (8 April 2012): Goddamn, who are these imposters wearing the Orioles uniforms? They actually look like major-league ballplayers!

EDIT (9 April 2012): Well, back to reality.

explanation of awol

Spent most of last week in Nashville. Posts coming in the next few days, I promise. Hate to have to resort to posting about vowing to post more. Won't happen again, I promise. One love.