"Relax. Chill out."

It's been almost 5 years since my last blog post. I don't even know who reads this anymore. Frankly, something happened outside of the online world that made me question complaining on the Internet. It seemed so small compared to the life events that can actually punch you in the face.

I still think complaining on the Internet is worthless. So I'm going to try to reason on the Internet (probably worth less than worthless). I want to reason with you about the Michel Therrien - PK Subban issue.

If you're reading this it's because you clicked on a link I shared (maybe you stumbled upon it, but that's doubtful). If you're reading this, you probably already know the back story, but bare with me for a second while I lay it out, just in case it's 2025 and we're looking back trying to figure out what happened.

PK Subban, arguably Montreal's second best player (after Carey Price), is carrying the puck in an effort to generate offence. Grigorenko (bad guy Soviet, I think) knocks the puck off PK's stick. PK loses an edge and falls. Grigorenko skates up the ice in a 3 on 3 breakout. The Avalanche score the winning goal. That's abbreviated. I'll go into much more detail. You can see the play in question here.

Really, it's just tough luck for PK and the Canadiens. If PK doesn't fall, arguably the game goes to overtime and the Canadiens get at least a point in a must win game (to be honest, I don't think the Canadiens were in a must win game. There are no more must win games. It's over. It's been over for a while. Play the kids and let them develop and let's ensure a high draft pick). The play also lead to these quotes by Montreal Canadiens head coach, Michel Therrien:

1. "It’s too bad an individual mistake cost us the game late in the game.” 
2. “We believe that, as a coach, he [Subban] could have made a better decision at the blueline. He put himself in a tough position. We play as a team. When we don’t we could be in trouble and this is what happened.”

Now, a bit more back story. Michel Therrien, it is rumoured, never liked PK Subban. He made some comments prior to being coach of the Montreal Canadiens on a French language program called L'Antichambre many years ago that I can't find on the Google machine right now. 

More backstory, the Canadiens were supposed to be good this year. Really good. But Carey Price (best hockey player in the world) is hurt and the team is crapping the bed. 

Even more back story. Habs fans and Montreal media over-react. This is fact. Much like Leafs fans always think they'll win next year. And now, the Montreal media and fan base are going crazy. "Fire Therrien!" "Trade PK!" "Trade Pacioretty!" "Therrien and Bergevin are running PK out of town!" (my favourite). Which leads to the title. It was a quote by Carey Price a few years ago when the Habs lost a pre-season game. He said "Just relax. Chill out.".

Great advice, even for today. So with that all in mind, what does the 30-something (full disclosure, I'm no longer 30-something) Curmudgeon think of this? Let's break down the play:

1. Canadiens have the puck in the offensive zone with about 2 minutes left in a tied game. PK should have made a smart play. Had he passed the puck rather than tried to generate offense the game probably goes to overtime and the Canadiens win. He made a mistake. It's at least partially his fault.
2. Grigorenko made a great play to get the puck away from PK and create the breakout.
3. The breakout was a 3 on 3 and was poorly defended. As the Avs enter the Canadiens zone, each Av is covered - Duchene (who has the puck on zone entry) by Markov, Grigorenko by Pacioretty, and Iginla (the goal scorer) by De La Rose.
4. Pacioretty loses his man by watching the puck. The puck carrier is being defended. Patches screwed up. 
5. De La Rose sees the puck passed to an uncovered Grigorenko and leaves his man to defend the puck carrier. This leaves Iginla all alone in front of the net. De La Rose screwed up.
6. Scrivens over-commits to the puck carrier and can't get back in time to stop Iginla's shot. Bergevin screwed up thinking Scrivens can be Carey Price. I'm not blaming Scrivens. He did what Scrivens does.
7. Down 1 goal with 2 minutes left, Therrien benches Pacioretty and Subban (maybe De La Rose too?). His two best offensive players. Habs lose. Therrien screws up.
8. Therrien places blame on "individual play". Not naming Subban, but in the context of a question regarding Subban's play. Therrien screws up.

So that's a big list of screw ups. Subban, Patches, De La Rose, Therrien (twice). What does it all mean? It means the goal was PK's fault. If he makes the smart play, the breakout doesn't happen. It's also Pacioretty and De La Rose's fault. They left their men all alone. They forgot how to play defense. It's also Therrien's. You can't win with your best players on the bench.

So what else does it all mean? Nothing. The Canadiens are not going to make the playoffs. Even if they get those 2 points. They have a hill to climb. Here's all you really need to take away from this:

1. PK made a mistake. He'll make more. He'll score lots too. 
2. Therrien probably shouldn't have said what he said. But he's in the throes of a very tough season. His comments were correct. PK's play led to the goal. Other things happened too. Maybe he should have also pointed out the mistakes by Patches and De La Rose. Maybe. He didn't. I've said stupid things. A lot of stupid things. I'm sure you have too. You say things you don't mean. You say things you mean but shouldn't say. It happens. Especially in times of intense pressure and stress. 
3. Patches lost his assignment. Doesn't mean he's playing to be traded or hates PK.
4. De La Rose lost his assignment. He'll learn.

You want a new coach? You might get one. But not until the season's over. 

I'm no Michel Therrien apologist. I don't like him or his style. I think he stifles growth. I think he's stubborn. I think he relies on veterans too much. I think he doesn't let talent play the way they can. But I don't think he should be fired mid-season. You make those decisions after thinking clearly for a while. You wait to see who's available at year end.

And who is available? Who do you want? You know an anglophone coach probably won't work, unless it's Scotty Bowman. Guy Boucher? Guy Carbonneau? Someone from the Q?

In a perfect world, the best coach is available right now and accepted by the fans and media. The world is not perfect. So wait it out. See what happens. Make a decision with all available information when it's not an emotional decision.

PK's not going anywhere. Not unless there's an offer that can't be refused. But at $9M per season, not many teams can take him on.

Same as Patches. He'd be easier to trade for sure. But why? He's great, he's signed to a sweet deal. We'd be crazy to trade him.

So, everyone just relax. Chill out. Ride out the season. It sucks, but it'll be over soon and the bad taste will go away. I'm paraphrasing a character from The Walking Dead now "When you get a shit sandwich the best thing to do is bite, chew, swallow, repeat, until it's all over." We've got a shit sandwich for a season. Eat it. It'll be gone soon enough.

Post Script

I've ranted. I'm not sure the above is coherent. Let me know what you think. And yes, I like lists. 

The NHL Missed the Net

I've been trying to write about this in a logical yet passionate way since Tuesday evening but I can't. There is no logic and I can't remove my emotions. Yes, I'm talking about the hit that Zdeno Chara laid on Max Pacioretty in Tuesday night's Boston v. Montreal NHL game. I just can't find the words to say what I want. It's rare that I'm at such a loss for words.

In the meantime I've been digesting it all and chatting back and forth with the original curmudgeon (the OGC). The OGC suggested a post that sums it up quite nicely. I've been hoping for this for a while and now, here's the OGC:

NHL leadership stinks and the league is becoming a joke. Every time they have a chance to make a statement, they take a pass. This is the same league that hands out suspensions for vulgar gestures and flipping someone the bird. But when a guy is brutally injured, they turn a blind eye like it's nothing.

A caller to The Team 990 said it perfectly. How can players be held responsible for their sticks when they're falling on their butts and the stick flails, but not be held accountable for their elbows, shoulders and fists when in full control of their body? Only one word sums this up: bullshit.

Well put OGC. But he wasn't done. In response to this article on the Boston Herald website, in particular this line:

The true villain, though, is the architectural genius who placed that small, exposed stretch of boards, stanchions and glass right in the area between the benches and created a tremendously dangerous hazard.

The OGC had this reply:

Is that a little like blaming a rape victim because of the low cut dress she was wearing? In your world, Mr. Harris, I guess the aggressor is never at fault.

Customer Dissatisfaction

There's a music shop in Ottawa that I've always despised. The first reason was its location (it's on Rideau street and hard to get to). The second reason is the service. When I first started to visit the guys wouldn't even look at me. They'd pander to the regulars and professional musicians. Fair enough. But then I got older and had some money to burn. As soon as I had money to burn they were helpful, until I had to take said thing back.

Case #1 - The Tele

I didn't return my Telecaster. I never would. But when I bought it I was told to take it in sometime in the first six months for a full tune up as the intonation and other shit I didn't know shit about would need to be adjusted. Fair enough.

So I learned about intonation and shit and one day noticed the strings rattled and didn't before. So I took it in for the free tune up. They told me it would be ready in two days and I said, "I'm out of town until next Saturday, so I'll just pick it up then." Next Saturday being a week away.

Next Saturday arrives and I show up at the store. "Sorry sir, your guitar isn't ready." OK, I'm somewhat upset, but shit happens.

"Can I have it for Thursday? That's the next jam."

"Sure."

Thursday arrives. I call at noon to make sure I can pick it up at 6. "Is she ready?"

"No, but we'll have it ready by six."

I arrive at six and they can't find it. They scurry and scrounge and I look behind the counter and say, "that's it, did you fix it?"

"Yep, sure did."

"Can I try it?" I ask, recalling the 6th string rattle.

"Sure."

"It wasn't fixed." I say.

"Hey (insert name here), did you fix the black Tele?" the guy yells to the back.

No is the response from the distance. So they fix it there while I wait, which begs the question, couldn't they have done that the first time I was there?

Case #2 - The Recorder (no, not that kind of recorder)

We record some songs we play. We have this dual input thing that plugs into a Mac (half the problem) via USB. This means that we have to play the song 3 times to get all tracks recorded. Which is fine, I think professionals even do this, but it's time consuming.

A couple of days after the holidays I'm surfing this store's website, partly because I'm a sucker for punishment, but mainly because a cute girl said she wanted a guitar. Anyway, I see this recording device similar to ours except it has 8 inputs. 8! Perfect! I call the store and they have one in stock. I ask them to hold it and they do.

Saturday arrives and I head down to the store. My machine is waiting, but I'm nervous, it's so inexpensive, like beer at a Legion. "Are you sure this will work?" I ask, "And if not, can I take it back?"

"Yes" he says.

So I cancel drinking plans with football buddies. Wait, I move my drinking plans from my football buddies to my band buddies and head to the jam space to figure it out. We can't. But we're not worried, we're smart guys, we'll figure it out.

Fast forward to next week and after finally reading the instructions, it works. Woohoo, let's go grab a drink.

Fast forward to next jam night and we can't get it to work. Fast forward to next jam night and we still can't get it to work. We then test it out direct to amplifiers and it doesn't work. So I check the receipt, it's within 30 days and I take it back.

I talk to a guy at the counter and tell him my problem and he says, "we don't have another one in stock."

"That's fine," I say, "I didn't want another one anyway, I just want my money back."

"We don't give money back." he says.

"What? Why? It's within 30 days." I say.

"Well, that'd be just like renting. Nobody gives money back like that."

"Are you serious?" I say, "Everybody gives money back."

"...."

"Everybody."

"Well, I guess we don't, but you can have store credit."

"Fine, I'm missing Lucky Ron. Gimme the credit."

So now I have store credit at a store I don't want to visit. It's about $250, exactly the price I'd pay to fill that thing full of shotgun pellets.

Poltergeist

Poltergeist was one of my favourite horror movies as a kid. You had an ancient burial ground, creepy blond kid, creepier old woman performing a séance, and a little girl being abducted by a TV; what’s not to love? In retrospect, it also had Coach. Seriously. What’s not to love?

Problem is now I’m beginning to think I live with a poltergeist (or I have extremely bad luck and a lack of rest). It started with what the Irish call “the old hag”. You can look it up for yourself and correct me in the comments, but the gist of it is as follows: you are in a state of half wakefulness and half sleep, the brain being awake and the body asleep. You are aware of what is going on around you but you can’t move, you are paralyzed. This manifests itself as something holding you down. I now know this is just a common, natural occurrence. But in June of 2008, in a new apartment, I didn’t really know. So, it’s not really a poltergeist, just a lack of sleep. Or is it?

Occasionally, when I slept at night, I would wake up to the sound of a thud. I’d search the apartment and find the light cover in the entryway on the floor, unbroken. I’d simply reinstall it and it would fall off again a few days later. I had it replaced and it hasn’t fallen since. So no poltergeist. Or is there?

My door would fly open on its own on windy nights. You could push it open if it wasn’t locked, so a bad lock I suppose. Or is it?

Fast forward to October of 2009. I break my ankle. This has nothing to do with the poltergeist (or does it). I just happened to live in the apartment when it happened. Is that coincidental?

Skip ever so slightly to November of 2009. I’m trying to do laundry with a broken leg and crutches because the night before, when I initially planned on trying to do laundry, the upstairs neighbour was doing her laundry – ALL 6 LOADS. This ordinarily wouldn’t bother me, but she remarked to me the next day that she saw my trying to do laundry and apologized for taking up the washer and dryer so long. To summarize, she saw me, hobbling on crutches, with a backpack full of laundry, trying to get in and out of the laundry room multiple times and continued to do 6 loads of laundry without even stopping by my apartment (which she does for more dubious reasons and she has to pass to get to and from the laundry room) to say “hey, I see you struggling with your laundry. I’ve got a ton to do so I just wanted to let you know so you don’t have to go back and forth 6 times tonight”. No she didn’t think to say that. Rather, the next day she says “Yea, Isaw you trying to do laundry last night.”

Anyway, where was I? Oh yea, the poltergeist. I’m doing laundry the next night, which is done down the driveway to the back of the house, and after starting the laundry a car hits my house (perfectly summarized, along with the broken ankle, here). So, again, you can’t really blame a poltergeist for this. Or can you? The guy lost his cat. Cats are evil. See the connection?

Fast forward to November 2010. I come home from work and my door is kicked open. Some thieves have taken my TV, guitar, amp, glasses, universal remote, and cash. Not the work of a poltergeist, or is it?

Finally, last week. I wake up (admittedly hungover) and there is a broken glass all over my kitchen floor.

One of these things happening isn’t so bad, but combine them all together in the span of 2.5 years and that can’t be a coincidence. That’s it. I’m calling the Catholic Church for some help.

PS. Blogspot spellcheck isn't accepting contractions?

Why?

There's an urban legend out there about an exam question on a university exam. It was a bonus mark question that was simply "why?" The answer, according to the legend, is "why not."

I haven't been much of a blogger lately because I've become bored with writing. I was initially inspired by two things; an incident that inspired me and a friend who blogs who also inspired me. Since then I've been pissed off less and less. Hard to imagine, I know.

But something happened that killed my urge to blog. It was the question "why?" Specifically "why blog?"

I've thought long and hard about this over the last drunken 20 minutes. I've come up with four (I've changed that number numerous times) answers:

1. I want to be heard (i.e., I'm vain).
2. I want to educate.
3. I want to entertain.
4. It's cathartic.

The truth, as always, lies somewhere in between. No, wait, they're all true.

I do want to be heard. I want you to hear what I have to say, otherwise I'd just think these thoughts and carry on.

I want to educate. I hope to teach you things like "don't bike on the sidewalk."

I want to entertain. I can't say for certain that I do, but if you're here again, I can't help but think I do.

It is cathartic. I type this shit that I hope you read (i.e., to fulfill my need to be heard), that will educate you (that's up to you), and that is entertaining (I hope I didn't fail) and it feels good. I need to get this shit out. If you spend time with me, and I'm sure my 20 readers do, you know I'm opinionated. I need to tell it like I see it and this is a way to get it out without pissing you off face to face (not that I don't anyway). And after I type it, I won't bring it up in person and get into stupid arguments like why singing the national anthem at sporting events is stupid.

I want to blog more and I hope I do. But the "why?" still haunts me. I started out having fun with it and kept trying to one-up each post. Maybe I'm the problem. Maybe I don't' have to be better with each post. Maybe I just have to do it to feel better or to get shit out. Or, most likely, I'm drunk and I shouldn't be sitting in front of this keyboard right now.

Superheroes Without the Power and Motivation

I'm back!

I was uninspired for some time and this weekend an event occurred that I have to write about. But before I do that, I have to give all y'all some background.

I've been robbed a few times. At first it was somebody breaking into my car in Montreal and stealing all my CDs. Then, it was crackheads breaking into my car in my parking garage on a fairly regular basis. In fact, at one point the lock on my car door was busted and I decided not to lock it anymore to make sure my windows were never busted (side note - my uncle cracks up over one particular robbery. I called the police and told them about a break in. They asked me when it happened. I rarely drive my car so I say sometime in the past three months). The final (I think) theft was my bicycle, which wasn't even 6 months old at the time. So I've got a pretty negative outlook towards thieves.

Fast forward to Saturday night. It was starting off as a pretty low key night. We went out for food and drinks and then back to the good doctor's place to hang with the newlyweds. As we left I convinced Greg (or was it the other way around) to grab a drink downtown before calling it a night. We were walking on Lewis Street towards Elgin (here's a map for the out of towners) and about halfway between O'Connor and Metcalfe there is a parking lot and you can see the next Street up, Gilmour. As we get to the parking lot we see a disturbance. Some guy is shoving this girl around and yanking at her purse. I point it out to Greg and he says "you go that way (straight through the parking lot) and I'll go this way (around the corner and up O'Connor)." So I beat it. I beat it like I've never beaten it before. (side note - my ankle held up great, I hadn't really tested it until then and I didn't even think about it until a day or so later). I get straight through the lot and run past the girl, who is still on the ground, following the purse snatcher when I hear her yell for help. So I stop, turn around, help her up, and ask if she's OK. She seems to be and says "get my purse." So, I turn back around and see the guy in the distance. I beat it again, but know this time he's out of my reach. But, as luck would have it, he turns left on O'Connor, running right into Greg. I slow my pace and continue on, hoping this doesn't turn ugly. Then I see Greg come around the corner with a huge smile on his face and the purse in his hands.

The rest of the story is from Greg, I've asked him to review and edit the following:

The guy runs down the middle of O'Connor Street and straight towards Greg. Greg stands there (Greg is a tall guy and can be imposing, unless you know him) arms spread wide and says "I got you, where you going, I got you. Let's do this. Come on." The guy tries to deke him a couple of times without success. Greg is matching his every move. Then he drops the purse and runs in the other direction. Superfrickinhero.

So Greg returns the purse to the girl and she is ecstatic. She's doing fine, although she has a few bruises on her arm from the incident. I ask her where she lives and she says just the other side of Elgin, which is where we were heading anyway so we tell her we'll walk her home. Greg recommends that she call the cops and she decides to go straight to the police station to report it ASAP. We walk her down Elgin to the Pump and suggest following her all the way to the police station but she declines as Elgin is a pretty busy and safe street.

So Greg and I finish our initial plan and grab a few pints and celebratory shots. Greg's a hero and worth rebooting the blog for.

Also, the girl was hammered and she had a full bottle of wine in the purse. I love centretown.

You Were Expecting Gretzky?

I've heard it said that the definition of crazy is repeatedly doing the same thing and expecting different results. So does that make Bryan Murray stark raving mad? Didn't he know what he was getting when he signed Alex "the artist" "AK-27" Kovalev?

I've watched Kovy for the past 5 years in a Habs uniform only to be frustrated, then dazzled, then further frustrated, then happy he was gone. Sure, he can be a game changer but more of than not he's lazy and uninterested.

Kovalev has four goals and four assists in 16 games, which puts him on pace for 41 points this season. That will change, he'll score a bunch for a week, then cool off again and likely end up somewhere near 50 points. You'd be crazy if you expected anything more.

I'm Glad That's Over

What a week! Last night officially ended the worst week I've had in a while.

It started last Saturday. I was playing squash with a couple of friends and ran cross court for a ball that I should have let drop. Instead I pushed it and my foot turned inside effectively turning my ankle into the ball of my foot. The ankle is not built for that. Turns out I have an avulsion fracture (when a ligament or tendon pulls and takes a piece of the bone it's attached to with it). I'm in an air cast for at least 4 weeks and stuck walking around on crutches. So it seems that being lazy wouldn't have been such a bad idea.

If you've ever had to walk with crutches you know how much of a pain in the ass it is. It's hard getting to the bathroom let alone the grocery store. I've got a feeling that after 4 weeks my right calf will be a toothpick but my upper body will be rock solid. I'll look like Joe from Family Guy (without the wheels).

Not only is walking with crutches a pain in the ass, but people are rude and inconsiderate. I want to make it clear that this doesn't apply to all people. My friends and colleagues have been amazing in getting me where I need to go, helping me get groceries, and most importantly, delivering beer. But the general public completely blocks you out; no holding doors, no stepping aside to let you through; expecting you to get out of the way quickly. It amazes me. I know it shouldn't, given my past post on how stupid the world is. I just though that people, although being stupid, were at least considerate.

Anyway, I've got a week in walking with crutches and 3 more to go. It's no so bad now. I even crutched my way to a salon (shut up) to get a head and neck massage (I said shut up) and a haircut. On my way home I stopped for some organic veggies (btw, you should read Rachelle's blog, she's had some posts about local organic stuff in Ottawa and Dawn's blog, about local food with a focus on preserving) and it wasn't so bad. I was a sweaty mess, but still, it is possible to be normal-ish on crutches (next week the pub).

If that were the only thing that happened this week this post would be a bit of a call to 9-wah-wah. Nope, that is not all. I was lying down (which I do a lot now) watching old episodes of Lost waiting for my laundry to dry and I heard an accident; screeching tires and metal hitting metal. "That was close to here" I thought and milliseconds later I hear a loud bang. "That was really close" I thought.

So I grab my crutches and hobble over to the kitchen to check outside. My kitchen door is wide open. There is red brick dust all over the floor and even some pieces of brick. My front step is full of bricks. Then I notice a woman standing in my driveway on the cell phone saying "there's been an accident, the car is on fire".

It hit me immediately. The car hit my house. I'm gimpy and there's nothing I can do. I call my buddy Ryan to come by in case I have to split (gas line, power, etc.). He shows up not long after and, in true Mesheau fashion, is amazed/delighted by what he is seeing. Luckily, nobody was hurt, though there may or may not be a missing cat.

From what the police could put together, a red car hit a white Honda Civic on O'Connor and Lewis (I live here, at 438 Lewis Street). The air bags in the Civic deployed and the driver likely stepped on the gas instead of the brake. He clipped a stop sign (here's a new, temporary sign),


went through the fence (see above and below),


bounced off the corner near my entrance,





down the lane way, and into a concrete wall.



I think it's neat now, but it was dangerous. Had I been outside BBQ-ing, smoking or walking down the lane to get my laundry I'd be either dead or seriously injured. It'd be hard to jump out of the way on one leg.

Crazy week. But it could be worse. My friend lost his job and my cousins have swine flu. Perspective is everything huh?