Where In The World Is Patrik Elias?

Those of you who aren’t as enamored with hockey as I am may not be aware, but for the past few weeks the world of hockey has been the scene of an unsolved crime.

On June 11, 2012 the Los Angeles Kings overcame a 44 year drought to become first time Stanley Cup Champions. I don’t know if you’ve ever attempted to win a Stanley Cup, but I think it’s pretty difficult. I’ve been trying on my Wii, but they’re not even real people and I still can’t do it. So It’s pretty big deal when your team wins the Stanley Cup. There are parades, champagne showers, lots of cheering, and sometimes an occasional f-bomb in a victory speech. And one thing that’s a tradition, really in any sport, is to keep the game winning puck (or ball in all those other sports) and display it somewhere, where everyone can see it and say, “Hey look! There’s the puck that the Los Angeles Kings used to beat the New Jersey Devils in the Stanley Cup Final. Super neat-o!!” But something terrible happened with this puck. The game winning puck disappeared.

The last anyone knew of the puck was that New Jersey Devil’s left winger Patrik Elias flipped it up into his glove after the final horn of the game. Then Elias proceed to exit the ice and give his stick to a random fellow in the crowd. He disappeared into the locker room for a few unaccounted for minutes then returned to the ice to shake hands with his opponents, at this point in the evening Elias was puck-less.

Now why would Patrik Elias want this puck? Did he want it to display the puck that was used to beat his team? Did he want to hurt the Kings by not allowing them to have it? Was he going to sell it on ebay for millions of czech koruna? No one really knows. All we really know is that the puck disappeared for 2 weeks and 4 days. And then it was found hidden, deep inside Elias duffel bag. Patrik is trying to take the pressure off of himself saying he didn’t know he had it and what not, and he tried to make it better by sending it to the Kings. But no, he is full of lies. He knew exactly where that puck was for those unaccounted days. Why would the puck be in his duffel bag if he hadn’t been traveling the world with Pucky, as I call him? So I did a little digging and you’ll never believe what I found.

As it turns out Patrik Elias fled the country after their loss with puck in hand. He took ol’ Pucky here on a bit of a world-wide excursion.

First they headed to Italy and did a classic “holding up the leaning tower” pose.

Next they jetted over to Paris to visit the Eiffel Tower.

The last leg of the European tour was a trip to Patrik’s home country of Czechoslovakia.

Oh, now this is just cruel. A comically large Stanley Cup champion puck on the Hollywood sign. C’mon Elias, rub it in a little more that you have their puck why don’t you.

Apparently in his world travels he even made a trip with the puck to my own city of Nashville and was hanging out on Broadway. What the heck? How did I not know?

And finally, Patrick and Pucky took a trip to the shore with, well, you know, the Jersey Shore crew. Look how precious Pucky is nestled gingerly in Snooki’s poof like that.

Sure it’s a little weird that he did all these things and then sent the puck back to the Kings, but who am I to judge? Maybe he just wanted a little taste of the victory as well. And when you’re Patrik Elias that means you spend a few special days with a champion hockey puck. I hope you had fun Elias, I hope you did! I’m just glad that Pucky is finally back with his rightful owners.

Are You Kidding Me? Volume 2

I did it again. I was reading yahoo, I should stop doing that because every time I do I’m left shaking my head in confusion. But, since I’m incapable of learning my lesson it brings me to another edition of “Are you kidding me?”

This story takes place in the magical land of Canada. The land known for mounted police and the classic John Candy film, Canadian Bacon. Now, thankfully, Canada can also be known as the land where 40 year old hockey coaches get arrested after tripping 13 year old hockey players.

This delightful incident occurred at the end of a youth league hockey game. Apparently the ‘unnamed’ coach’s team lost. Mr. Unnamed was upset at the fact that his team lost. Therefore he did the most logical thing a grown man can do in the situation. He tripped a preteen during the handshake line. But don’t think he did this without proper reasoning. No, no, he had logic behind his actions.

You see, the game was supposed to be two teams of 10-12 year old boys. And as it turns out, sometimes 10-12 year old boys have birthdays. And when they have birthdays they become 11-13 year old boys. This boy was 13. So, I guess that makes sense. He turned 13 after the season started, so he should have been immediately kicked off the team and not allowed to play. And since he was still allowed to play, he needed to be tripped. I can totally understand where this coach is coming from. Obviously that one boy was the only reason their team lost. So, you know, he must be punished and the best mature way to go about that would be to stick a foot out and cause him to hit the ground. Now he will know never to be 13 years old again. Problem solved!

So I guess that’s cool that youth league coaches are super mature and not jerks at all. I can only hope that someday my children can be coached by a gem, such as this man. And if not, well I guess I’ll trip them myself.

 

So here’s to you, Unnamed Coach:

You, sir, are a grade A nimrod. And that entire team (including that pesky 13 year old) should be allowed to shoot slap shots at you until you become a logical adult, which by my estimation will take a long, long time.

That is all. Have a lovely day.

 

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Are You Kidding Me?

This evening, as I was doing my normal yahoo perusing, something peculiar struck my eye.

The first thing was the fact that the story was about the Chicago Cubs. I like to consider myself a bit of a Cubs fan, ever since that summer I spent grooming them for the world series on MLB 07: The Show. Also I’m a big fan of disappointment and also bears, so win-win. The Chicago Cubs are rolling in both of those things.

Unfortunately this story was no different. It had bears and also, disappointment.

As it turns out Travis Wood stepped to the plate looking like this:

While that is a super great hair flow young Wood here is rocking, there is something not quite right about  this photo. Maybe it’s the score, the Cubs should be losing by a lot more by the bottom of the second. Perhaps it’s the fact that his eyes are closed, you can’t hit the ball if your eyes are closed. Oh, wait. I think it’s probably the fact that THE FREAKING LOGO IS ON HIS HELMET SIDEWAYS. (Also it’s up a little high, but in the great scheme of things that doesn’t seem to be a big problem at this time)

This leads me to ask many questions of Travis Wood:

1. Are you an idiot?

2. Did you not notice something askew about your helmet when you put it on your head?

3. Are you an idiot?

4. Do your teammates hate you so much that they won’t tell you that your helmet looks stupid?

5. Seriously though Travis, are you an idiot?

Granted the Cubs have special embroidered decals that are on their helmets to add ‘more depth and texture than a traditional adhesive’, and pitchers are known to live life on the zany side, that does not excuse this embarrassing event. Travis Wood has many other teammates. All of which probably saw his helmet and thought to themselves, “Hey, his decal looks stupid, I could help….nope. Let’s watch.” And, poor Travis was thrown to the wolves to have his image spread across the world wide web for years to come.

And that is why I’m starting a campaign to become the official uniform fixer of all sporting events. If a”Travis Woods” is about to happen, I’ll be there to rotate that decal. If a hockey jersey is stuck in the back of pants, I will remove it. And if football pads are sticking out of a jersey, you know I’ll be there in a flash.

And next year when the “Official Uniform Fixer Of All Sporting Event” election takes place, remember Vote Amanda!

I Got Your Back Joel Peralta!

Thursday, which is actually today, a young (and by young, I mean he’s 36) Tampa Bay Rays* player found himself in a bit (and by bit I mean A LOT) of trouble.

It seems Joel Peralta, one of their relief pitchers, thought he needed a little bit of help in the pitching department. And seeing as how he used to play for the Kansas City Royals, a team known for horrible pitchers, he is probably not incorrect, but I have digressed.

Our good friend Joel here decided to place a wee bit of pine tar within his baseball glove and according to rule 8.02** in the MLB rule book, “the pitcher shall not apply a foreign substance of any kind to the ball”. When he put the ball in the glove itself, voila, pine tar ball, otherwise known as foreign substance ball. You can’t hit a pine tar ball, this is a fact*** and Joel Peralta knew this.

You are not allowed to doctor the ball. Joel was a class A offender of this rule. Or so the MLB would want us to think.

However, Joely, as I refer to him, does not see this incident in the same light as the MLB. He has decided to appeal this suspension, on the grounds that he did not do it, I guess. Although I sort of feel like he was caught pine-tar handed (see what I did there?) Or perhaps he’s going to attempt to justify why the pine tar was inside of his glove.

And that is where I come in. I got your back Joely! I can justify absolutely any situation. So let’s get started.

Pine Tar Glove Appeal Topics For My Good Friend**** Joel Peralta, AKA Joely P.

#1. My glove smelled like sweaty hands. Mostly because my sweaty hand is always in it. I thought perhaps the pine tar would give it a delightful ‘woody’ scent. I was incorrect.

#2. I suffer from extra sweaty palms. My hands sweat A LOT. And since they’re really, really sweaty I have a hard time holding onto the baseball to pitch a quality 4-finger fastball. I thought the pine tar would help my grip. Is that against the rules? My bad guys.

#3. Matsui did it! That guy’s been after me all season. He wanted me to get suspended. I’ve said it time and time again, you cannot trust a guy name Hideki. And no one believed me, but looks what he’s done now. He’s ruined me.

#4. That’s not pine tar guys. That’s my saliva. I’m dipping. I love chewing tobacco. I’ve been hooked ever since I saw The Sandlot. Those guys and their dipping then riding on carnival rides. That movie is hilar!

#5. Ummm…..I’m from the Dominican. We don’t really have rules there. I didn’t know these rules were actually enforced. My bad guys. Won’t happen again.

#6. I suck at pitching. I have a 3.72 era. I suck so bad that the Royal didn’t want me. And they love terrible pitchers. I needed all the help I could get okay? Just let me have this one.

There ya go Joely! Take any of the above and I guarantee your appeal will be successful. There is no way you will still be suspended after this.

*Don’t worry men of the Tampa Bay baseball team, I know ‘Rays’ is a pretty stupid sounding mascot, therefore you will always be the Devil Rays to me. You’re welcome.
**This is a real rule. I googled it. Google does not lie.
***I have absolutely no evidence that this is a fact.
****Would you believe that we’re not actually friends at all? I’ve never even met the guy.

You Mean New Jersey’s Mascot ISN’T Beelzebub?

The NHL playoffs are almost over. A group of 16 has been narrowed down to a mere 2 teams; the Los Angeles Kings and the New Jersey Devils.

No one could have predicted such an anomaly occurring. What happened to the Penguins / Predators final? Well, they both choked. (which by the way, has led me into a deep, dark, depression, full of catching up on Glee and playing games of NBA Jam. Come back to me Preds!!) And that is why America is left to choose between a team from a land full of celebrities or a team from a land where tan guidos freely roam the streets. Kind of a lose-lose situation if you ask me.

So you’re probably debating on which bandwagon you are going to jump on for the Stanley Cup Finals, right? No? Just me? Oh well. I’m going to continue anyway.

Both teams have their perks but also their…not-perks (what the heck would that word be?)

New Jersey Devils

  • Contrary to popular belief the people of New Jersey do not support Satan. Instead they support the mythical Jersey Devil that resembles a moose with wings. Pro? Maybe?
  • Snooki. Con.
  • Puddy is on their side. Pro, classic Seinfeld episode.
  • Used to be the Kansas City Scouts. Pro, everything from Kansas is great.
  • Only team bold enough to actually declare themselves a part of New Jersey. Con. Why would they want to admit that?
  • Zach ParisePro. Guy is a beaut!

  • 3 Stanley Cups Pro, for experience. Con, because I like underdogs.
  • Not the Nashville Predators. Con. 

Los Angeles Kings
  • Wayne GretzkyPro. DUH. Dude’s a legend.
  • Dustin Brown. Con, kinda looks like a weasel.
  • Anze Kopitar. Pro, makes up for weasel-faced Brown
  • Lion mascot. Con, not real creative for a team in a land full of struggling actors and writers.
  • They chirp super hard on twitter. Pro. HILARIOUS. Check it out: @LAKings
  • Gave tickets to Rainn Wilson in a jello mold. Pro, also hilarious.
  • 8 seed that has won 12 out of the 14 games they’ve played. Pro. Has the makings of a great Disney movie.
  • 0 Stanley Cups. Pro, underdogs
  • Also not the Nashville Predators. Con

So there you go. An exhaustive list* of the best and worst qualities of each team. Do with it what you will.
As for me, well, I like movies where teams overcome adversity and win championships so ya, I’m going with the Kings. Plus I seriously enjoy their twitter.

 *not even close.

NBA? More Like No Thank You-a!

[Disclaimer: First of all, I apologize for the title. Sometimes I think I’m more clever than I really am. Secondly I realize the NBA is very popular. Don’t come after me with torches.]

It time that I confess, I don’t get the NBA. It’s all over the TV and internet because apparently some sort of ‘playoff’ scenario is happening right now. A bunch of giant men, trying to win some sort of ring. I don’t know, it seems a little girly to me.

You see once a year, during March Madness, I attempt to understand the world’s fascination with basketball. I last approximately until Gonzaga is knocked out and then I am done. I can’t even last 5 minutes of an NBA game. So ya, I don’t really get it.

But what I do get is:

  • The game is played with a ball.
  • The ball is more formally known as a basketball
  • The point of the game is to get the basketball into the basketball goal.
  • On the basketball goal there is a hoop with a net attached.
  • The ball goes into the net to score a goal.
  • Blake Griffin plays basketball.
  • He dunks the basketball a lot.
  • 90% of SportCenter’s Top 10 anything related to basketball is some sort of dunk.
  • Dunk is a fancy word for jumping up really high and placing the basketball into the hoop forcefully without it ever leaving your hands.
  • There was an NBA lockout.
  • When the lockout happened Blake Griffin did this.
  • Blake Griffin is the only NBA player I care about because of this. Also his dreamy good-looks.
  • There’s also a player named Metta World Peace.
  • Metta World Peace is a moron because he legally changed his name to Metta World Peace.
  • NBA teams, like Metta World Peace have stupid names.
  • The stupidest being the Golden State Warriors. That is not even a real state.
  • Whichever terribly named team can shoot the orange ball into the hoop the most times wins a stupid, shiny, girly, ring, like this:

That’s it. That’s the NBA in a nutshell.

It’s not that I don’t get how it works, I do. I played basketball for a whole 2 months in the 4th grade. And I probably scored at least once. AND I’ve played NBA Jam a lot on Super Nintendo. So ya, I’m pretty great at knowing basketball.

I just don’t GET it, ya know? No? You don’t know? Because you enjoy the NBA? You don’t think it’s a waste of time? Hmm…well, that’s a weird.

I guess, I hope your team wins a ring?

Memo to Self: Don’t Slam Baseball Bats Into Walls

Let me set the scene for you.

It’s a delightful May evening in Washington DC. It’s warm but there’s just enough of a cool breeze to keep a person from getting heat stroke. A perfect night to take in a baseball game at Nationals Park.

You’re sitting in the upper deck enjoying a ballpark frank and maybe a cola of sorts. You’ve just sat back down after the a rousing chorus of “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” signaling the classic 7th inning stretch. Next thing you know a bloodied 19-year-old ventures out onto the field.

You’re shocked, appalled and maybe even vomiting a little bit of your ballpark frank back up, when you realize, “Hey wait! That’s not just any bloody faced 19-year-old! That’s our wunderkind of an outfielder, Bryce Harper! What the heck happened to him?”

Well, it seems this young, talented, first-round draft pick was getting frustrated with his inability to connect his bat with a ball. So he did the most logical thing he could think of.

He went down into the dugout tunnel and slammed his bat into the wall.

Apparently, young Bryce does this often. Normally, he slams that bat hard into concrete and goes back onto the field with a little less anger, but this time, that bat fought back. That bat was tired of being slammed into things and decided to get its revenge.

It smacked Bryce Harper right in the face. That bat just bounced right off the wall. Into his face. Either he didn’t realize that the bat had caused him some serious face marring or he just didn’t care but he went back onto that field with blood dripping down his face, as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

I imagine the conversation between Harper and Rick Ankiel went something like this:

“Uh. Hey Harpy*….”
“Ya Anks*?”
“I don’t want this to be awkward, but you’ve got some blood leaking out of your eyebrow.”
“Oh, ya Anks. That’s probably because I just went down into the tunnel back there and slammed my bat into the wall, then it bounced back into my face. So ya…that’s probably why I’m bleeding.”
“That was pretty stupid Harpy.”
“Get off my back old man! I’m a 19-year-old rookie. I do stupid things!”
“Yes you do Harpy, yes you do.”

So then young Harpy recieved 10 stitches in his eyebrow. And as if hitting himself in the face with a baseball bat wasn’t enough he had to wear this sign of shame for the rest of the game and was also forced to sit out of the lineup for the next two.

The moral of the story is: if you are upset about going 0-5 in your at-bats don’t hit your wooden bat into a cement wall. It will hit you back.

Quite frankly, I’m surprised this hasn’t happened to him sooner. Logical sense tells me that if I slam something hard into something slightly harder it will bounce back.

But you know, Harper has obviously skipped out on the college experience and that’s why he’s a 19-year-old MLB player and I’m not. We’ll chalk this one up to youthful stupidity.

In the meantime maybe the Nationals should buy the guy some Sock ‘Em Boppers.

More fun than a pillow fight…or having your own baseball bat hit you directly in the face.

*I made up these nicknames, but I will be incredible upset to find out they aren’t real.

[Side note. The guy does NOT look 19. I’m seeing at least 25, they should probably check his birth certificate. But you know, whatev.]