#basketball fans that actually know things feel free to dm

[stillfertile]

looking through tumblr and theres barely any posts about boban marjanović :( hes so funny why does nobody talk about him……

[everywhereallofthetime]

Some Girl ... Part 15

Word Count: almost 1.8k

Warnings/Notes: A few cuss words. Overzealous, disrespectful fan, Shawn trying to be a sweetheart anyway. Brief mentions of Camila.

// * // * //

Monday / July 26th

At 9:03am Monday morning, Charlotte was at the front desk chatting with Jaime, her office assistant, when Ethan came rushing in, apologizing for being late. Charlotte waved it off and told him that it happened to the best of them. She then led him to the studio they would be starting in.

While they warmed up, Charlotte learned that Ethan was the single dad of a 15-month-old baby girl. The reason he was late, he felt the need to explain, was because he had his daughter over the weekend and he needed to drop her off at daycare on his way. She didn’t want him to go, so he gave her an extra few snuggles to try to comfort her.

Charlotte smirked. “She already knows she has you wrapped around her finger.”

“She absolutely does,” he chuckled. He showed her his home screen on his cell phone, which was a picture of her.

“I have a six-month-old son,” Charlotte offered with a smile of solidarity, showing him the photo of Sebastian on her own phone home screen.

They chuckled at the fact that they were ‘those kind’ of parents; showing photos of their kids without asking others if they even wanted to see them.

It was a nice jumping off point for them to connect and start getting to know one another on a more personal level.

On a professional level, Ethan was about 25 pounds heavier than he wanted to be. Charlotte reminded him that he would be trading fat for muscle, so his overall weight might not change much, depending on how muscular he wanted to be. She didn’t believe in weigh-ins except with their first session and again at their last. She told her clients to mark their progress with measurements, not the scale.

Aside from that, he was an absolute dear and very, very attractive. He had the darker skin of someone with mixed heritage and short dark hair, but his eyes were a beautiful sea green.

Ethan was also somewhat flirtatious. Charlotte had a feeling he was holding back and couldn’t help but wonder if it was because of Shawn. He had, after all, first met her when Shawn was standing beside her.

If she wasn’t so unsure of where she and Shawn may be heading, she would certainly be flirting back.

// * // * //

Charlotte was saying goodbye to Ethan, and how she was looking forward to their next session that Thursday, as her newest potential client was arriving.

Jetta was petite and cute, with blonde hair and dark eyes. Charlotte thought they might be close in age, but not in maturity. She had an air about her that said she was spoiled rotten and used to getting whatever she wanted. She hoped she was wrong in her presumption, this was only their initial meeting after all, but she was more intuitive than most people.

Nonetheless, Charlotte flashed a warm, professional smile in greeting. She then brought Jetta back to her office to begin their consultation. She was a no-nonsense trainer, not the coddling type. She was about to learn if Jetta had the disposition and dedication that she needed to be one of her clients.

After a straight-forward conversation with Jetta about the kind of commitment she would need to be successful, Charlotte could already tell she was wavering. Still, she showed Jetta the studios and equipment, and they had a brief workout to get a feel for each other.

When their time was almost up, Jetta excused herself for the washroom while Charlotte made a few notes, which ended with: Probably won’t be back...

// * // * //

Charlotte headed toward the front office, where she and Jetta were supposed to reconvene, and found Shawn chatting with Jaime at the front desk.

“You’re only supposed to flirt like that with me, Mendes,” Charlotte teased.

“I’m practically married already. It doesn’t count,” Jaime giggled.

“You aren’t married yet.” Shawn made the gesture of holding a phone to his ear and winked at her, mouthing ‘call me’.

“And he calls me ‘trouble’,” Charlotte said to Jaime, chuckling. She then gave Shawn a playful shove and said, “Go warm up. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Before he could make it to the door which led the way to the CrossFit studio, he was intercepted by a slightly overzealous Jetta.

“Hi! Oh my God! I’m a huge fan!”

Shawn was always unfailingly polite and full of gratitude. He flashed that brilliant smile of his. “Thanks!”

“I didn’t know you worked out here!”

“No one knows that I work out here, and I’d kind of like to keep it that way.” He said so in a way which asked Jetta not to say anything without actually asking her not to say anything.

“Sure, absolutely. I watched your Live last night.”

“That’s great! I hope you liked it.”

“Of course I did! I’m so excited for new music from you.”

“It makes me happy to hear that.”

“Can we take a selfie?”

“For sure, but then I’ve gotta go.”

Jetta handed Shawn her phone and posed beside him, standing as close as she could. As soon as the shutter clicked, she stated, “I’m glad you and Camila finally broke up.”

Shawn felt immediate dizziness fill his head. “Oh,” was the only response he could manage.

Noticing how he stiffened beside her and how red filled his cheeks, she quickly added, “It’s just that I never thought she was right for you,” as if that would make it better.

Charlotte felt the need to step in and end things. “I’m sorry, Jetta, but Shawn is here for a session and we should really get started.”

“Sure. Yeah, all right.”

Charlotte could see the very moment everything all came together in Jetta’s mind.

“You’re ‘starlit_charlotte’! You posted the basketball video!” Jetta turned back to Shawn. “She’s the friend you were talking about in your chat!” She looked from him back to Charlotte, and again at him. “Are you two together?”

“We’re friends.”

Jetta’s focus remained on Shawn and Shawn alone. “If you aren’t dating her, do you wanna go out sometime? With me? Here,” she said, shoving a business card into his hand.

Quickly glancing at it, he could see that it listed all of her social media accounts and usernames.

She placed her hand on his forearm and flashed him what she thought was her sexiest smile. “Feel free to slide into my DMs.”

Shawn tried to stay cool and cordial but he was ready for her to get out of his space, and he hating feeling like that around his fans. “It was nice to meet you, Jetta, but I really gotta go. We’re running late.”

“Oh! Okay, sure,” she grinned, oblivious to Shawn basically telling her it was time for her to go away. “See you around!”

Not if I can help it, Charlotte thought to herself while she did her best to smile pleasantly. She turned Shawn away from Jetta, placed her hands on either of his hips, and pushed him through the door. Over her shoulder, back to Jetta, she said, “Give me a call if you decide you’d like to start training and we’ll work out a schedule.”

// * // * //

Charlotte handed Shawn a jump rope. He started skipping and, after he found his rhythm, murmured, “I’m sorry, babe.”

“You never need to apologize for stopping for your fans, and for being kind, even when they don’t deserve it. If it had been me, it would have meant the world to me if you took time to talk to me and take a selfie. I’m sorry. You looked like you were beginning to get overwhelmed and I reacted, but it was wrong for me to butt in. I know you’re perfectly capable of handling things on your own. After all, you’ve been doing this for years.”

“In this case, you weren’t wrong. Sure, she was a fan, but I am also your client and we had a scheduled session that has now started ten minutes late. As my trainer you had every right to call attention to that.”

“Sure, but as your friend, I want to be supportive of you, and I want your fans to like me. It will make your interaction with them a lot easier if they do.”

Shawn shook his head as if in disbelief. “She was...excitable, eh?”

“She was rude,” Charlotte said frankly.

“I’m sure she didn’t mean to be.”

"You are too good for this world,” she sighed. “She insulted Camila and your relationship with her right to your face, babe. It was disrespectful.”

“I wasn’t going to be impolite back at her... She might be your newest client.”

“First off, no one would have blamed you, least of all me. And no. I don’t want to train her, and I hate saying that about anyone. Until she saw you, I had a feeling she wouldn’t have been back. Now that she knows you work out here, with me, she will be. I’ll see if Lina will take her on.”

“I wonder if she’ll say anything to anyone.”

“Of course she will. And I wouldn’t put it past her to embellish the story of your meeting. ‘He’s even more gorgeous in person!’ At least that wouldn’t be an embellishment. ‘He was flirting!’ She won’t bother to add ‘with the office assistant’. A business card for social media. Like, really? Is that a thing now? I’m only 23. Should this not surprise me?” Shawn started giggling. “‘I gave him my number and he said he’d slip into my DMs!’ She’s cute though; she’d be easy to believe. At least she caught you pre-workout and not when you were all gross and sweaty. Although, I don’t know, she might’ve liked your sweat and post-workout stink.”

Shawn was having difficulty catching his breath; it was hard to laugh and jump-rope at the same time.

“So much for subtly and slowly, eh?” he said between chuckles.

“More like clearly and quickly,” she giggled. Shawn opened his mouth to say something but Charlotte immediately shut him down. “Don’t you dare try to apologize again. Do I have to remind you of our conversation last night?”

“Okay, fine.”

“All right then. Twenty squats.”

“I fucking hate squats,” he groaned, dropping the jump rope.

“I can always make them buddy squats,” she threatened. “Come on, babe. They’ll make your ass look great.”

“You must do a lot of squats,” he smirked.

She rolled her eyes but still blushed. “Your charm will not get you out of having to do them,” she snickered. “Let’s go. Shit stuff first, then fun stuff. You know the drill.”

// * // * //

Part 16

[flauntpage]

The NBA's Man of Many Faces

On a hot day in early September, three glass revolving doors twirl into the midtown Manhattan high-rise where the most fascinating man in the NBA spent most of his summer. The lobby is palatial, with a dazzling chandelier fixed in the center of the room; a young woman with platinum blonde hair stands directly underneath it, inside a front desk that looks like someone cut a marble egg in half, juggling phone calls and small talk with delivery men as they scurry across the floor.

New York Knicks center Enes Kanter steps out from an elevator behind her, armed for the heat in a white short-sleeve hoodie, dark mesh shorts, and solid teal low-top Nikes. A trimmed beard accentuates his baby-fat-free face, and the thick hair atop his head takes the shape of a Brillo pad that’s been dyed black. A long, red scar runs along his right forearm, memorializing the time he fractured it punching a chair in the middle of a game. A towering, chiseled, bronze sculpture of a man, Kanter’s stride is unexpectedly graceful; it’s unclear if his heels ever touch the ground. If any other first impression can be had, it’s that he’s almost too affable: Over the next two minutes, Kanter asks how I’m doing and/or if I’m good four separate times.

We exit the elevator and pass through a noisy weight room and congested lounge, towards a cafe that’s attached to a broad outdoor terrace. Before we move outside to escape the crowd, Kanter points up at a giant menu populated by fresh pressed juices, açaí bowls, and almond butter shakes. “They have smoothies!” he smiles. I’m not really hungry. “Are you sure you don’t want something? You’re not getting anything? Seriously you have to get something.” We grab two water bottles and make our way outside to sit in the far corner, beneath a giant sun umbrella for the rest of an afternoon that’s already unlike any I’ve ever had. For Kanter, it’s a typical day: A visitor is here to ask questions about his inexplicably complex life.

Over the past two years, Kanter has manifested one of the NBA’s most distinct personas: He’s an activist, one of the world’s hundred best basketball players, a political dissident, gentle humanitarian, and proficient troll. (“I don't know what's wrong with him," LeBron James once said.) He combines mild mischievousness with a big heart, adored by those who know him as he exasperates those who don’t.

“He was a straight enemy,” Kyle O’Quinn, Indiana Pacers center and Kanter’s former New York Knicks teammate, says. “[Now] that’s my boy. Make sure you quote me on that. That’s my boy. That’s my boy. There’s a bunch of o’s and a bunch of y’s. That’s. My. Boooyyy.”

On the court, Kanter is determined but limited in ways that have prevented him from logging heavy minutes on a good team. Off it, he’s an impossibly generous, vulnerable, and self-motivated spirit.

“I think there’s a lot of guys in the NBA who’re blessed with this huge size and huge strength and huge ability, and therefore they act accordingly. They are loud or they are dominant or demonstrative,” 11-year NBA veteran Steve Novak, who played with Kanter in Utah and Oklahoma City, says. “I think Enes has been blessed with so many of those things. He’s this huge dude. But he’s holding kittens at the humane society and going to the children’s hospital. He uses his platform in as amazing a way as I’ve seen a teammate use it.”

“When I look back at my basketball career, I want to say I tried to inspire as much as I could.”

This summer, Kanter organized 14 free basketball camps for children all over the United States, paying for everything—t-shirts, pizza, the gym, water—out of his own pocket. “When I look back at my basketball career, I want to say I tried to inspire as much as I could,” he says. “When I go to those camps, I don’t just talk about basketball. I talk about education, how to become a good person, everything.”

His interests span wider than the average human, let alone your typical NBA player. He still gleams as the boy who used to dream about becoming an astronaut—he follows NASA on instagram, and half-jokingly won’t let the narrow physical dimensions of a spaceship’s cockpit ever impede him from strapping into one. (“I still would love to go to space,” he says.) Kanter also grew up watching David Copperfield and Chris Angel. He can turn a cup of water into ice, bend spoons with his mind, and plunge a tight string into and through his Adam’s apple. “I actually learned a few tricks from him,” Kerem Kanter, his younger brother who plays professional basketball in France, says. “I try to do them every once in a while to impress people.”

Kanter’s most intense obsession is the WWE, and it’s grown ever since he introduced himself as The Undertaker at the University of Kentucky’s Big Blue Madness in 2010. “It was funny as hell, and the fans flipped out,” Kentucky head coach John Calipari says. “There were people falling from the upper deck to the lower deck when he came out.” (When he met the real Undertaker a few months ago, Kanter’s knees shook.) Today, he’s close friends with several professional wrestlers and is dedicated to becoming one after he retires from basketball, which he hopes won’t be until his mid-30’s.

“I’m actually talking to the people over there now. Vince McMahon, he knows me,” Kanter says. “I had dinner with [Paul Heyman] two, three days ago. I asked him how long he’s gonna do this and he said ‘as long as Brock [Lesnar] goes, I go, and then I’m with you.’ I’m like yes! Seriously. I’m really serious about it.”

A few minutes later, as we discuss how Jersey Shore, Spongebob Squarepants, and Home Alone—“You can not beat that. It’s a classic. I watched that when I was growing up and I still watch it when I get bored,” he says—helped him pick up English, Kanter is suddenly adamant about showing me who he’s been exchanging DM’s with on Twitter. He taps his phone: “I’m talking to Mike The Situation! He said ‘let me know when you have some tickets when the season starts, I will bring Vinnie and the wifey.’ That’s my man.”

All this makes Kanter compelling enough, but the intersection between that playfulness and a literal life-or-death fight he’s waged against the Turkish government is where he becomes one of the most fascinating professional athletes in recent memory. With a voice that serves as a tight fist for thousands of imprisoned Turkish citizens who themselves have been silenced by President Recep Tayyip Erdogan’s authoritarian regime, it’s critical that Kanter’s diverse interests and sometimes bizarre behavior do not damage his credibility. Instead, what he represents in public is the natural and masterful interpretation of a benevolent rebel. At 26 years old, Kanter pursues it all in the most admirable, cringeworthy, and immeasurably hilarious ways; he exists without an analog.

“I don’t want to say socially awkward,” Kerem Kanter says. “But Enes used to be shy and he didn’t like to talk to strangers. Now he loves the attention. He talks to the media a lot. He has a ton of friends. He talks to people every day. He actually enjoys doing that.”

So much of this side can be seen every ten minutes on social media, where Kanter floods his feeds with political opinions, videos of himself strolling through Times Square, dressing up like a Marvel character, and, of course, the unprovoked albeit harmless attacks on fellow NBA players and teams.

“This guy doesn’t stop. I don’t know when he sleeps,” O’Quinn says. “He just sits on the internet, and I think there’s somebody helping him, behind closed doors, because I don’t know when he gets any rest. He’s on Twitter and Instagram all day.”

That incessantness translates offline into other areas of his life. The impact Kanter’s energy has in locker rooms, on bus rides, and cross-country flights feels relatively miniscule—to a certain degree it very much is—but so many of his teammates cite his ability to loosen the atmosphere as a professional advantage.

He’s the butt of a trillion jokes, but never gets sensitive about any of them, knowing that A) he brings most of the ridicule upon himself, and B) nobody is actually trying to hurt his feelings. Even when they mock his accent, diet (knowing he avoids pork for religious reasons, Kanter’s teammates would sometimes order bacon just to put it on his plate, or convince him their meals were cooked on the same grill), tight clothing, or not-that-rare refusal to shower after practice, it’s never done with malicious intent. The result is an endless collection of stories that make those who tell them smile.

Indiana Pacers wing Doug McDermott didn’t really talk to Kanter when they were teammates in Oklahoma City, but things changed after they were both traded to New York. “He called me like ‘Doug! Man! We’re going to the best city in the world!” he says. McDermott chuckles at all the different ways Kanter made himself an easy target. “Just how cheap he was. I think he still had an iPhone 4 when that was like four iPhone’s ago.”

A popular topic of conversation at the Thunder practice facility was the house Kanter purchased in Oklahoma City (that he’s since sold, at a loss). He was so excited to furnish it and asked around about hiring an interior decorator. But later, when he saw the bill and noticed that he was charged around $10,000 for curtains alone, he lost it. “It became a joke in the locker room,” Novak says. “Like, ‘Oh God, Enes is bitching about his curtains again.’”

Bring up the curtains with Enes and his smile turns into a sheepish grin. “She didn’t charge me that much but it was very expensive curtains. Very, very expensive curtains. I was like ‘what was I thinking?’”

Now a minimalist, Kanter does not own a car or a house. He refuses to indulge in the same luxuries any person on a $70 million contract is expected to enjoy, and in fact, continuing a life-long habit that began in the small bedroom he once shared with his two younger siblings, Kanter sleeps on the ground. “It’s actually better for your back” he says without the slightest trace of embarrassment. “I’m comfortable!”

This is a tiny exaggeration. A twin XL mattress is plopped in the corner of his otherwise deserted bedroom in White Plains, where he lives during the season. It’s wrapped in dark brown sheets, one matching pillow, and a champagne-colored comforter. But that’s literally it. There is no box spring, headboard, bed frame, nightstand, or lamp. (Kanter laughs out loud for a solid five seconds when I ask if he ever reads before bed.) There are no posters, rugs, or, well, anything. Officially listed at 6’11”, his calves still dangle off the foot of the mattress. “I know it’s weird,” he says. “I just like it that way.”

Photo by Jason Szenes - European Pressphoto Agency

Even though he was born in Switzerland while his father, Mehmet, earned his M.D. at the University of Zurich, Kanter’s earliest memories trace back to kicking a soccer ball through the mundane streets of Van, a small city on the east side of Turkey.

His mother was a nurse, but soon retired to take care of her four children (Kanter’s two younger brothers play basketball—the youngest attends high school in Atlanta—and his sister recently graduated from medical school.) “We were not too wealthy, we were not too poor,” he says. “We were comfortable.”

For the Kanter family, countless weekends trickled by on the beaches of Lake Van, Turkey’s second-largest body of water. “There was a rumor that there was a monster inside,” he says. “I don’t think there is.”

Kanter’s passion for soccer grew—he still thanks it for developing his low-post footwork—until other kids in his apartment building and throughout the neighborhood stuck him in goal. They laughed at his big feet and poked fun at how huge he was. He hated it. Life in the classroom wasn’t any more pleasant.

“I don’t know what happened. I became a very terrible student.”

Kanter can still picture the wood switch his first-grade teacher used to wield at students who fell out of line. “Whenever you did something crazy they’d say ‘open your hand,’” he says. “I still remember, man. My hands would hurt so bad. Oh my God.”

School was everything in his family, but it wasn’t his thing. “I was a really good student, first, second grade, third grade, and then fourth grade a little bit. And then I don’t know what happened. I became a very terrible student. I wish I took it more serious.”

His parents still pushed him up through middle school, until the pressure to succeed conflicted with the cold reality of knowing he wasn’t put on this Earth to master or even enjoy academia. (Years later, when enrolled at Kentucky, Kanter passed all his classes except art, which he eventually dropped. “It was three hours at night. Too long,” he says. “We weren’t drawing either. It was like history, with reading and stuff.”) Whenever organized basketball came up as a possibility, Kanter’s father would rant about poor grades and the money he already paid the school. His mother repeatedly reminded him that millions of kids wanted to do the exact same thing. “I was getting so much shit from my parents, from my family,” he says.

But perspectives began to shift when he was eleven. A competitive game of after-school ping-pong against his dad spilled onto the basketball court. The two played one-on-one, a boy against his athletic, volleyball-keen, 6’5” father. Enes won. In Mehmet’s eyes, stifling this gift was officially foolish.

Fate intervened a couple years later, when, according to Enes, Mehmet attended a conference in Ankara, Turkey’s capital. He walked into a store for school supplies and a man tapped him on the shoulder. “Is your son as tall as you?” It was a local basketball coach who wondered if today might be his lucky day. (It was.) Enes’s family followed him to Ankara, where he spent two years playing at a school called Samanyolu. After that he moved to Istanbul to play for Turkey’s top basketball club, Fenerbahce Ulker. Not even 16, Kanter had already become one of the world’s more alluring big man prospects.

He never stayed up until 4 AM to watch NBA games when they aired at home, but did catch Utah Jazz highlights the following day, so he could see Turkey’s Mehmet Okur in action. Aside from Okur and Hedo Turkoglu, there weren’t many Turkish role models in the NBA for Kanter to look up to. But even then, when he was banging up against grown men literally twice his age in the Euroleague, Kanter’s focus was always on the United States. He desperately wanted to play high-school, college, and professional ball against the best of the best. But leaving Fenerbahce was more complicated than he expected. During his second season with the team, Kanter turned down a six-year contract for one million Turkish lira (which translated to about $785,000 U.S. dollars at the time). “They’re saying ‘don’t go, don’t leave,’” he remembers. “I was scared.”

The relationship grew tense. One day at the gym, an older teammate untied his shoes, took them off his feet, and hurled both right at Kanter. “How can you leave without talking to me?” he shouted. Kanter wanted to scream back “You’re not my dad!” but kept quiet.

Another long-term contract offer was made, this time for six million Turkish lira. But Kanter spurned the club once again, and along with his life coach and eventual agent Max Ergul, flew one way across the Atlantic Ocean for the very first time. The first stop was Chicago, where Kanter worked out with Tim Grover, Michael Jordan’s famous personal trainer. “There was so much free Muscle Milks,” Kanter says. “I was drinking three or four a day. A day! It was free! I was like ‘Oooh, it tastes so good.’”

From there, actually playing high-school basketball wasn’t easy. As a coveted international prospect, prep schools all over the country wanted him on their side, but thanks to a Nike contract his father signed, along with the money Fenerbahce gave his family, they were also weary of his flimsy amateur status. Kanter initially wanted to enroll at Virginia’s Oak Hill Academy—a basketball factory that’s produced an untold number of success stories, including Carmelo Anthony, Kevin Durant, and Rajon Rondo—but the team’s head coach, Steve Smith, preferred to avoid any potential scandal.

Plan 1-A was Nevada’s Findlay Prep. With the hope of joining forces with Tristan Thompson and Cory Joseph, Kanter was a tank with ball skills. “He could step out and put it on the ground,” Mike Peck, Findlay Prep’s former head coach, says. “His movement was fluid, much like a perimeter player. He wasn’t stiff and rigid.”

But Kanter only spent a couple weeks in Las Vegas before the program ended their relationship. (Oak Hill’s Smith had reportedly refused to compete against any team Kanter was on.) “Our understanding was I think there was something with his dad,” Peck says. “His dad may have signed something over in Turkey that, on behalf of Enes, affected his amateurism. So that’s when we had to say ‘Hey, sorry but we can’t jeopardize our program.’”

Enes, understandably, was crushed. “Think about it, man. I came [to the United States], turned down millions,” he says. “Turned down all the big Nike deals. Turned down...I could be like a legend in Europe. I was killing everybody my age.” But he didn’t sulk. In the days after Findlay Prep informed him of their decision, as Ergul tried to figure out their next move, Kanter’s drive didn’t decelerate. “He was in the gym and he was sweating and he was working,” Peck says. “He wasn’t just, shoes unlaced, messing around. His poise and composure was commendable.”

A similarly frustrating pitstop at West Virginia’s Mountain State Prep preceded Kanter finally landing somewhere that was willing to let him play: Stoneridge Prep in Simi Valley, California, a few miles north of Los Angeles. It was nice to have some stability, but Kanter remembers the situation as anything but normal.

“I walked into the classroom and there were spiders everywhere,” he says. “It was like spider webs. It was very weird. There were like fifteen students in the whole school.” Kanter was there seven months, first living in a house with his teammates before he moved into an American family’s home. It was his first uninterrupted taste of a new culture. At first, he didn’t shop for groceries and ate Nutella for lunch. One morning, he grabbed a box off the top of the refrigerator, opened it, then mixed its contents in a bowl with some milk. A teammate strolled into the kitchen and couldn’t stop laughing. “They said ‘You’re not supposed to eat it like that.’ I said ‘Why? It’s cereal!’ They said ‘It’s not cereal. It’s Cheeze-Its.’”

Practices were held at a 24 Hour Fitness, and Kanter still remembers being confused when random gym members shot at the same basket his team used. But he was dominant, and knew he wouldn’t be there forever. “I remember I had one game, I was so tired of scoring,” he says. “I missed a shot on purpose. A free-throw! I don’t want to score anymore. I still remember that game. It was too easy.”

Kanter verbally accepted an offer made by the University of Washington without ever visiting the school or even stepping foot in the same state. He knew a couple coaches there but had no serious ties or desire to attend. Not long after, Calipari flew to Los Angeles to see Kanter in person for the first time. It was a pickup game at 24 Hour Fitness.

“I immediately said ‘Holy cow, this kid is like 18? This is ridiculous,’” Calipari says. “He was really skilled. Obviously he was really big. But he was really skilled for a guy his size, which kind of surprised me.”

Once he realized they were interested, Kanter immediately decommitted from Washington to sign with the Wildcats. He had emerged as a prodigious cult figure, having recently broken Dirk Nowitzki’s single-game scoring record at the barometric Nike Hoop Summit in Oregon, with a 34-point, 13-rebound gem in just 24 minutes off the bench. (Kyrie Irving and Tristan Thompson finished with 29 points combined.)

But Kanter’s alleged impropriety followed him to Lexington. And the fact that Washington’s former athletic director, Mark Emmert, had just been named President of the NCAA probably didn’t help. Weeks before his freshman season began, Fenerbahce went public, alleging that Kanter had received “over $100,000 in cash and benefits.” They also submitted financial documents to the NCAA. Instead of playing basketball, Kanter sat through several interviews with investigators, some lasting six hours.

“His dad didn’t want him to go to a club school [in Turkey]. He wanted him to go to a private school, because his father was a professor,” Calipari says. “The club agreed to pay for it, and instead of paying the [private] school directly, they paid Enes’s father to give the money to the school, which the father did. And he had checks and everything that he wrote and showed. The club was upset that [Enes] didn’t come back and said that they wouldn’t cooperate. In other words ‘we’re not gonna say that’s what it was,’ but the dad showed that’s what it was. The NCAA said he’s not paying. I was appalled.”

Kanter learned about his lifetime ban watching television in his dorm room. Calipari remembers a meeting soon after in his office: Kanter looked at the floor and held back tears. Going back to Istanbul never crossed his mind, though, especially after he received a barrage of texts from his former club that outlined how hopeless his NBA dream truly was. If he wanted to succeed, it had to be in Turkey, they told him. “I knew if I went back, that road would be closed and none of the [Turkish] players would take that risk and come to America again,” he says. “Everybody would be scared.”

Kanter stayed in Kentucky throughout the season. Initially he wasn’t allowed to be in the same gym while the team practiced, so the school assigned Kanter his own coach. “I would practice after or before [the team],” he says. The restrictions extended to weight training, where strength and conditioning coaches wrote instructions on note cards and then taped them all over the room. “He said ‘When you work out, we’re not allowed to talk to you’,” Kanter says.

That was short lived, though. Kentucky quickly made Kanter “a student-assistant coach,” and the NCAA allowed him to practice with the team. “Every day, NBA people came in and watched him. He got Josh Harrellson drafted because every day Josh had to go against him. Josh Harrellson got drafted because of Enes Kanter,” Calipari says. “I told him ‘we have a plan. You’re gonna practice, we’re gonna have pro scouts, and you, my man, you’re getting drafted, son. And you’re getting drafted in the top five.’”

In 2011, Kanter was selected third overall by the Jazz, but the NBA’s lockout robbed him of a formal training camp, leading to an understandably rough adjustment period, on and off the floor. He was hazed by veteran teammates, especially Al Jefferson, and found that the more he tried to fit in, the further he drifted from who he really was.

“Enes partied a lot. Everybody knew that,” Trey Burke, Kanter’s current teammate who also played with him in Utah, says. “That was his rookie season, though. He’ll even tell you that.” Indeed, he does: “I was going out with my teammates and hanging out and stuff, but once you’re in your second year and your third year, you get more smarter and more smarter, you know? And you’re like ‘OK, basketball comes first, so stick to basketball,’” Kanter says.

He was not happy in Salt Lake City, primarily due to limited minutes and a diminishing on-court role. “He was boiling on the inside,” Novak says. Right before the All-Star break in the last year of his rookie-scale contract, Kanter demanded a trade. A couple weeks later, he was dealt to Oklahoma City. Novak was included in the deal, news that prompted his wife to burst into tears. When Kanter heard, he immediately called to apologize. “My wife wanted to kill him,” Novak laughs. “If you’re mad at Enes you’re usually not mad for long. He’s crazy so he does dumb stuff, but it usually comes from a really good place.”

The most meaningful upshot from his departure was Kanter’s own maturation intersecting with a rediscovery of the altruistic Muslim principles he embraced as a child. The need to help others, especially those who can’t help themselves, took on a much larger role in his life, dramatically altering how he viewed his responsibilities as a public figure. Kanter was about to become so much more than a basketball player.

As we sit ten stories above New York City’s rush-hour traffic, a fire truck’s deafening siren pauses our conversation. Kanter stops fiddling with his black matte watch, turns his phone over and raises his eyebrows. “Look at this, man.” He shakes his head and stretches his arm across the table. It’s a clip of Florida senator Marco Rubio dropping Kanter’s name during a senate hearing about political censorship on social media. (Kanter’s Twitter account has been blocked by the Turkish government.)

A few weeks later, outside the Lincoln Center’s Alice Tully Hall, sunlight sifts through a cloudy fall sky and glares off automatic machine guns held by NYPD officers clad in riot gear as they effectively secure the building’s perimeter. We’re at the Oslo Freedom Forum, a conference sponsored by the Human Rights Foundation that’s designed to promote and protect human rights all over the world.

As the conference begins, Kanter stands in the back, watching as a young North Korean defector tells her story in front of a packed, teary-eyed audience. When she’s through, he bends over to give her a hug as organizers latch a microphone over his ear. During their on-stage talk, Thor Halvorssen, the forum’s founder, calls Kanter an accidental activist, someone who didn’t set out to change the world but stepped up once he realized he had enough influence to do so.

Kanter first considered speaking out against Turkey’s backsliding government in 2013, after Erdogan embroiled himself in a corruption scandal. The subsequent power struggle culminated in an attempted coup, allegedly orchestrated by Fethullah Gulen, one of the country’s most popular religious and political figures. Gulen, who denies he was involved, lives in exile in Pennsylvania, where Kanter visits him regularly. Kanter's criticism of Erdogan is well documented, and nearly led to his abduction in Romania while on a worldwide charity tour last year. Since, Kanter has taken every opportunity possible to denounce a regime that’s imprisoning innocent citizens and kidnapping dissenters who live in democratic countries.

“He’s the second-most wanted person in Turkey, after Gulen, and we’re walking aimlessly in Hawaii, in Des Moine, Iowa, not hiding from anyone,” Kanter’s manager Hank Fetic says. “There were a few times this summer where I said ‘Bro, this guy is walking a little close to us. I’m a bit worried.'”

A warrant for Kanter’s arrest was issued by the Turkish government last year, and his father is facing a trial that could put him in jail for years. It’s a neverending nightmare, but Kanter is somehow able to compartmentalize the most psychologically corrosive aspects of his life and stay as upbeat as possible. While with the Thunder, the team’s psychologist tried to speak with him. Kanter politely refused. “Don’t worry about me,” he said he told the doctor. “If I ever need someone to talk to maybe I will. But right now I’m okay.”

The emotional toll is obvious, but Kanter’s sacrifice is evident elsewhere. He can’t leave North America and hasn’t been able to secure any endorsement deals. Nike, the same company that championed Colin Kaepernick’s controversial remonstration by putting him on the frontlines of a recent ad campaign, now refuses to sign Kanter. “I talked to Nike and they said ‘we want to give Enes a contract. We’re watching him. But if we give him a contract they will shut down every store in Turkey, so we cannot give him a contract,’” he says. “I’m an NBA player with no shoe deal. No endorsement deal. And I play in New York!”

He’s curious about the fluidity of American politics, and didn’t initially understand why so many people get upset when he tweets anything negative about Donald Trump—particularly during his time in Oklahoma. Speaking as someone who’s still shocked by what’s happened to Turkey, America’s violent divisiveness and piping hot political climate terrify him. But he still dislikes the idea of protesting in the United States, for fear of turning another country into his enemy. (Don’t expect Kanter to take a knee during the national anthem anytime, ever.)

He wants to be a U.S. citizen—he’s two years from becoming eligible—and has thought about giving himself an American name. (Kanter scratches his chin when I pitch “Michael” as an option.) “I see [America] is going there, to become another Turkey,” he says. “I hope not. I pray not. But right now you see people are getting polarized. When I think about America, I think about freedom. Freedom of speech, freedom of religion. It’s a peaceful country. Now it’s like, for an immigrant, you’re kind of scared.”

Inside the Knicks practice facility, a dozen media members file into a gym that has two full-length basketball courts. New York’s second day of training camp has just ended. As players break up to shoot free throws and work on individual skills, Kanter is the only one who jogs over to the near sideline, where several coaches and front office executives—the team’s president (Steve Mills) and general manager (Scott Perry) included—are seated in a row. He goes down the line, like a the world’s most earnest politician, and shakes everybody’s hand.

Kanter recedes to a far basket and simulates pick-and-rolls with one of his coaches. He steps outside to attempt a few mid-range jumpers and then settles into the corner to hoist some threes. From shoulder to hip, his muscles ripple like a miniature mountain ridge.

“How do you not like Enes?” Knicks head coach David Fizdale says a few minutes later. “For me, he’s like our spirit. He keeps our gym light. He keeps the guys in an upbeat mood, an energetic mood. He doesn’t have bad days. And thinking about what he and his family [are] going through, the fact that he can come in here and still have enough energy to give to us, I love him.”

“How do you not like Enes?”

Kanter began preparing for this, his eighth NBA season, less than a week after his seventh one ended five months ago. Even with a hectic travel schedule, he still spent between three and four hours a day in a gym all summer. The only days he took off were those designated for rest.

“Honestly, he’s the most consistent athlete I’ve been around in a long time, as far as just being on time and punctual and what he demands out of himself,” Mike Atkinson, Kanter’s personal performance coach, says.

Kanter walked into camp with 2.8 percent body fat and 20 more pounds of muscle than he had a year ago. “He’s the healthiest eater of all time,” McDermott says. “I’ve tried multiple times this summer to go to Shake Shack, but he won’t do it. I remember on a plane ride once, I was like ‘Enes, if this plane goes down, what’s the first thing you’d do?’ He said ‘I would eat all the cheeseburgers and cookies on here,’ just because he eats more quinoa and kale and spinach than anyone I’ve ever seen.”

On the court, Kanter is aggravatingly schismatic. At his best—AKA when his team has the ball—he moves like a rhinoceros who could place in the Kentucky Derby. He consistently finishes around the rim at an elite rate and creates second, third, and fourth chances whenever a teammate’s shot (or his own) doesn’t fall. “He’s a walking assist for a lot of us guards,” Burke says. Kanter finished seventh in rebound chances per game last season, averaging at least five fewer minutes than everyone who ranked higher. Since he entered the league, only seven players have grabbed more than 1,400 offensive rebounds. Kanter has tallied at least 2,100 fewer minutes than all of them.

“My thing is to do the dirty work, bang inside, and just be a banger, you know?” he says. “I know my weaknesses. That’s the most important thing. You have to know your weaknesses. I think my [weakness is] defense, of course.” For the past five years, Kanter’s team has been atrocious on defense with him in the game and significantly better when he’s on the bench. Two postseasons ago—after a play in which Kanter was helpless to stop James Harden and Clint Capela from connecting on a lob—that reputation collided with the national spotlight when a camera panned to Thunder head coach Billy Donovan right as he turned to his assistant Maurice Cheeks to seemingly say the words: “Can’t play Kanter.”

“I did see the clip. I could read his mouth. But he said ‘I never said anything like that, I was saying something else’,” Kanter says about Donovan. “He told me he never said anything like that and I go with it. You know what I mean?”

Kanter will never be Rudy Gobert, but he’s spent the offseason building up his legs, training himself to stay in a lateral stance, watching more footage, and conceding that where he is and how he reacts is increasingly critical in a league that goes out of its way to attack him. Physical improvement can only accomplish so much without awareness, zippy instincts, and the capacity to communicate on the fly, though. And big men, like Kanter, who neither protect the rim nor shoot threes—something Washington Wizards coach Scott Brooks first encouraged him to try when both were in Oklahoma City—are an endangered species.

His game is often synonymous with these flaws, but Kanter can still be a devastating weapon if deployed correctly. Size and strength will always have a place in the NBA, particularly when found in someone who’s coordinated, physical, and willing to exert maximum energy.

As a 27-year-old free agent hitting a marketplace that’s flush with cash, so much of his next contract hinges on the progress seen in 2019. “You always think about [free agency],” Kanter says. “Even if people said ‘Oh I don’t think about it, I’m focused on the season’ it’s always in the back of your head. It can not let you affect your game, but you always think about ‘Hey, what am I going to do?’ ‘Where am I going to go?’ ‘Am I going to stay,’ ‘Am I going to leave?’”

Based on everything seen so far, odds are strongly against Kanter ever approaching league average on the defensive end, but marginal improvement is always possible. Even more likely, though, is further growth on offense, where Kanter’s assist rate—normally near the bottom of the league—has ascended over the past couple years. An opportunity to show off his three-point range will be there, too.

“Before I was saying ‘I want to average a double-double. I want to score this much points, this much blocks.’ But how can I make my teammates better? How can I make the young guys better? Because that will take you to the next level. To share the ball, to make an extra pass, to cheer for your teammates. If you’re having a bad game and other big men are having a good game, you clap for them. You stand up and cheer for them. I think those little things add up and you become a better teammate and become a better player.”

Photo by Jason Szenes - European Pressphoto Agency

The most popular example of Kanter’s loyalty—and quite possibly his most relevant on-court moment—happened one year ago, when the Cleveland Cavaliers visited Madison Square Garden. The conflict started hours before the actual game, when LeBron incidentally disrespected New York’s baby-faced French point guard Frank Ntilikina by saying Dennis Smith Jr. should’ve been the Knicks pick instead.

Late in the first quarter, LeBron dunked home a lob, bumped into Ntilikina, and then refused to get out of his way. It was pure intimidation. The rookie responded by shoving James back before Kanter sprinted over to join the fray. “I was like ‘I’m proud of Frank. He’s pushing with LeBron, that’s good!’ But then after that it’s like OK, LeBron is 260 going up against an 18-year-old kid,” Kanter says. “So then I break in and I actually didn’t say nothing crazy. I was like ‘Don’t mess with my man.’ That’s it.”

The Knicks barely lost that game but then won three of their next four. “Our team needed that. Frank needed that. And I think it went a long way in the locker room,” O’Quinn says. “[Enes] got under the skin of somebody who is kinda unfazed by the many different things that people throw at him.”

The moment also cemented a bond between a veteran and a rookie who’s as shy as Kanter used to be. “The first person that I saw who wanted to help me was Enes,” Ntilikina says. “And it’s always like that, in the locker room, on the court, you always know that Enes is going to be there for you.”

This is who he is. Even still with a slight language barrier, Kanter speaks with an intent to ease. At the end of every other sentence, the man he’s talking to is “bro” or “my man.” Back at Lincoln Center, I sat on a yellow couch in the second-floor media room while he conducted an entire day’s worth of on-camera interviews with outlets from all over the world. A little after 4 PM, Kanter met me around the corner at the Empire Hotel. He looked the opposite of exhausted. We sat down on a gray couch in the brisk lobby, and without saying a word, Kanter grabbed my digital recorder and moved it to his side of the table, just to make sure it’d catch his voice. Again, he's almost too well-mannered.

“We’ll be having dinner, and someone will come to the table and ask to take a picture and he’ll stand up and take a picture with them. I’m like ‘Bro, you’ve gotta say ‘No. After dinner.’ But he just doesn’t decline it,” Fetic says. He’s unfailingly polite, but add everything he brings to the table that’s completely disconnected from on-court performance and it’s easy to see why signing him to a long-term deal is risky. So long as he’s on their roster, the Knicks aren’t broadcast in Turkey, no small loss considering a potential market of approximately 80 million people who would certainly tune in to watch.

McDermott believes Kanter is a perfect fit where he is: “I think, not anything bad against anywhere else he’s played, but I just think he’s meant to be in New York or L.A. He just has that presence.”

He’s unpredictable and different, but being unpredictable and different, in this case, is good. Instead of ego, there’s curiosity and compassion. Given all that encompasses his world—a deteriorating homeland and troubled family that's endured so many challenging circumstances—who has time to feel pressure on a basketball court, especially when it’s impossible to prepare any more than he already has? Kanter is unafraid of his own ambition and has long established himself as a productive professional, someone who can unmistakably affect his team’s culture without taking it over.

One day after the loss to Cleveland, Ntilikina sat by himself in a cold tub at the Knicks practice facility. A few minutes later, Kanter walked in and slid into the freezing water. They acknowledged each other and then sat in an awkward, shivery silence before Ntilikina looked up, turned his head, and stared at the teammate who just stood up to one of the world’s best and most famous athletes on his behalf. “Thank you,” Ntilikina said, softly. Kanter nodded back. “No problem, my man. I’ve always got your back.” The room fell quiet once again. “Whatever happens,” Kanter said. “It’s us against the whole world.”

The NBA's Man of Many Faces published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

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DGB Grab Bag: The Bettman Sentence, Russia's List, and NBA Off-Season Jealousy

Three stars of comedy

The third star: Taylor Crosby. She's a goaltender at St. Cloud State University. You may have also heard of her big brother, but just in case you hadn't, she was nice enough to drop a mention of him into her official bio.

The second star: Justin Williams. As a diehard Leafs fan, I recognize Maple Leaf Gardens on top of that trophy. No idea what that cup-shaped thing behind it is, though.

The first star: Predators fan Andrew Fudge. OK, admittedly this one is only funny if you're not Andrew Fudge. Are you Andrew Fudge? No? OK, keep reading.

Yes, that's a diehard Predators fan who won tickets to a Stanley Cup Final game—and only realized it two months later. You can read the whole heartbreaking story here.

The Nashville Predators, sliding into your DMs like:

(Where Andrew is the linesman.)

Epilogue: This one has a happy ending.

Be It Resolved

This week, Gary Bettman appeared at a panel with the commissioners of the NFL, MLB, and NBA to discuss a variety of issues. As always seems to be the case whenever he gets near a live microphone, he said some things that annoyed hockey fans.

We've covered this sort of thing before, because it happens every few months. But this time, I'm not here to complain. No, this time, I'm bringing a solution. I've figured out one simple trick that will transform any random Gary Bettman soundbite from something that infuriates you into something that makes you nod and go "Yeah, that's fair."

I'm calling it The Bettman Sentence.

Here's all you need to do. Whenever Bettman says something about the state of the game, just recall that he's been NHL commissioner for 24 years and counting. That's already longer than three of the five men who'd held the previous title of President. He's going to pass Frank Calder within a few years. There's a decent change he'll even do what once seemed unthinkable and outlast Clarence Campbell.

Even that might be underselling it. While Calder and Campbell each led the league through tumultuous periods of major change, things just move faster these days. You could make a good case that 24 years in today's hyper-speed world should count for a lot more than 26 years back before most people had a television.

Everything about today's NHL, both good and bad, traces back to Bettman in one way or another. I know it. You know it. Every player, coach, GM, owner, and media member knows it. And it's a pretty safe assumption that Bettman knows it, too.

So whenever you hear Bettman complaining about state of the modern NHL, all you need to do is mentally append one more sentence: "And since I've been running this league since 1993, I take full responsibility for that."

That's it. Just imagine that sentence, in Bettman's trademark voice, and everything will be OK again.

Here, let's try it out. Take this quote from earlier this week, which probably had you bouncing your forehead off the nearest desk.

Bettman is basically complaining that the league doesn't get enough media coverage. But that's outrageous, because he's the one who bailed on ESPN and he lets the league be so boring and he's always picking fights with reporters and…

Calm down. Breathe deeply. And then, add the magic sentence.

"Historically, we have been underserved by traditional media. And since I've been running this league since 1993, I take full responsibility for that."

That's a perfectly rational thing to say, right? If you heard those words come out of Bettman's mouth, you wouldn't be mad at all. You'd actually think he was being downright perceptive. It's not like we're changing reality around here by making stuff up. Bettman really has been around since 1993. He absolutely knows that he's the most influential person in the modern history of the league, and probably the most influential ever, period. He knows that everything about today's game has his fingerprints all over it.

Would he say that out loud? Probably not. But he's thinking it, or at least he should be. So you should feel free to do him a favor and tack that extra sentence on for him.

Here, let's try another one:

"… and since I've been running this league since 1993, I take full responsibility for that." Boom. Suddenly, a comment that's transparently antagonistic at the worst possible time is transformed into a completely reasonable observation.

So be it resolved: From now on, every Gary Bettman quote where he's complaining about the state of the game gets The Bettman Sentence automatically appended to the end of it. "And since I've been running this league since 1993, I take full responsibility for that." Do that, and everything else starts to make a lot more sense. It will probably be good for your blood pressure, too.

Obscure former player of the week

This week, a Russian magazine unveiled its list of the country's 50 best NHL players of all-time. As always with these sort of projects, the end result made for some fun debate. They had Evgeni Malkin as the best ever, but you could make a case for Alexander Ovechkin, Pavel Bure, Sergei Fedorov, Pavel Datsyuk, Alexander Mogilny… the list goes on and on.

This week's obscure player didn't quite make the cut, but he is the subject of one of my favorite draft day stories, and that's worth something. He's defenseman Sergei Bautin.

Bautin was a big blueliner who played a physical style that earned him the nickname Bam Bam. He made his name with Dynamo Moscow, and won gold as part of the Unified Team at the 1992 Olympics alongside Sergei Zubov, Nikolai Khabibulin, Darius Kasparaitis and the subject of this week's YouTube clip.

By the time the 1992 entry draft rolled around, Bautin was 25 years old, but with the NHL opening up to European players and his international experience drawing attention, he had an outside shot at getting drafted. Hey, you could do worse with a late-round flyer, right?

Then the Winnipeg Jets picked him 17th overall.

To give you an idea of how off-the-board the pick was, consider this: Even Bob McKenzie didn't know who Bautin was, sending him into a live-TV scramble to figure out who the Jets had just used their first round pick on. It was a bizarre choice, but you know, that's what happens when your GM is Mike Smith, am I right, folks?

Bautin came over to North America and had a pretty decent rookie season, playing 71 games for Winnipeg and just narrowly missing out on team rookie-of-the-year honors. But he struggled in Year 2, and was traded at the 1994 deadline as part of the deal that saw the Wings and Jets swap goaltenders, flipping Bob Essensa for Tim Chevaldae. Bautin's stint in Detroit didn't go well; he lasted exactly one game before Scotty Bowman and the Wings sent him to the minors for being out of shape, reportedly after discovering he was a two-pack-a-day smoker.

Bautin would sign with San Jose in 1995, but once again played just a single game before the team moved on. From there, it was back to Europe, where he finished off his career, and presumably a few more packs of smokes.

Outrage of the week

The issue: The NBA off-season has been way more fun than the NHL's.

The outrage: [Folds arms and pouts.] It's not fair. Is it justified: It's been a rough summer for hockey fans, especially if you know anyone who's into basketball. It's like being a kid on Christmas morning, and watching your friend tear open a ton of cool presents. Blockbuster trades! Free agency intrigue! Front-office shenanigans! Crazy rumors! Look, he even got a traded first overall pick and a big-money offer sheet. You didn't even know those still existed.

Meanwhile, you're sitting there sadly unwrapping your discount Kevin Shattenkirk signing and trying to get excited about an Artemi Panarin trade. At some point, you just want to give up and trudge on back to bed.

It hasn't been all bad. We did get expansion, and that was kind of fun. And we might still get a Matt Duchene deal, if Joe Sakic's foot ever gets sore from continually kicking that can down the road. But yeah, let's not sugarcoat it: Compared to the NBA, our off-season sucks.

And it's nobody's fault, and there's really nothing we can do about it. This is just how the NHL has evolved in the salary cap era. Most GMs are too timid to make big trades. Offer sheets are mysteriously off the table. Teams go all out to make sure they sign all of their top players to long-term deals at the first opportunity, so nobody good ever gets to free agency. And then everyone bolts for the cottage midway through July.

Every now and then we'll get an exciting day, but that's the exception. It's not good or bad. It just is. We may as well accept it.

And sure, it's hard not to feel a little jealous of that NBA fan passed out from sheer excitement in a sea of wrapping paper and major headlines. And now he even gets to care about exhibition games? How spoiled can one kid be?

Ah well. If you're a hockey fan, this is your fate. We may as well make our peace with it.

(And then wait until the playoffs, when you're tearing into a big helping of "anything can happen" and basketball kid is stuck with "this is all pointless because everyone knows Golden State is winning again.")

Classic YouTube clip breakdown

Last week, we used this space to break down the unparalleled genius of Alexei Kovalev, as he shrugged off a vengeful Mike Keenan and labored through the greatest shift in NHL history. At times, Kovalev was the absolute best.

But other times, well, it's safe to say that the Alexei Kovalev Experience had its share of ups and downs. So today, let's balance out the scales with a look back at one of the downs.

It's April 13, 2004, and Kovalev and the Canadiens are hosting the Bruins in Game 4 of the Eastern Conference quarterfinals. The Bruins are leading the series 2-1, and just scored in the dying seconds of regulation to tie the game. Now we're midway through the second overtime, and it's safe to say that it feels like a must-win for Montreal.

Luckily, Kovalev has the puck in his own zone. I'm sure this will turn out great for Montreal.

Our hero decides to cut along his own blueline, which is a reasonable move given the Bruins forwards are heading off on a line change. But Travis Green reaches out and lightly taps him in the hands on the way by, and tragically this causes Kovalev to immediately die.

Well, OK, not quite die—but it's close enough. Kovalev bails on the play, selling the tap for all its worth in an attempt to draw a penalty. This being playoff overtime, the ref immediately checks to make sure Kovalev's arm is still attached and then puts his whistle away.

Realizing that there's no penalty coming, Kovalev jumps back in the play and delivers a textbook open ice check on the puck carrier. Unfortunately, that puck carrier is teammate Sheldon Souray, and that springs Glenn Murray on a breakaway. Anyone who has every watched hockey knows exactly what's about to happen.

Sure enough, Murray beats Jose Theodore to end the game, and the Bruins pile onto the ice to celebrate.

My favorite part of this clip is the crowd reaction. You can actually isolate the Kubler-Ross five stages of Montreal Canadiens fans watching this play unfold:

1. Ho hum, nothing is happening

2. Oh was kind of a slash

3. Umm guys…

4. UMM GUYS

5. NOOOOOOOOOOO!

(Stage 6, as always, is rioting.)

The celebration pile includes the usual fun sightings. There's Joe Thornton, in the middle of the pointless playoff run that convinced the Bruins they couldn't win with him. There's former Canadian Olympian Rob Zamuner. There's Michael "Father of William and Also That Other One" Nylander.

And there's the Bruins' rookie head coach, who looks vaguely familiar. Yes, it's good old Mike Sullivan, fresh off an impressive 104-point debut. He'd be fired by the end of the following season, and wouldn't get another shot in the NHL until Pittsburgh hired him a decade later, midway through the 2015-16 campaign. Don't tell me how that turns out, I'm going to binge watch the last few seasons over the weekend.

"This is your goal scor-rah…" I love Boston announcers.

We see the Canadiens leaving the ice, and they don't look happy. And they weren't, with Souray and coach Claude Julien both ripping Kovalev after the game for quitting on the play. They're not wrong, but I mean, Souray doesn't look great on this one either, does he? I know he's caught by surprise, but he's standing flat-footed at center ice while a forward breaks out of the zone, and he basically makes the worst possible play with the puck. Are we really going to pretend this is 100 percent Kovalev's fault?

[Thinks about the comedic implications.]

Yeah, this is all Kovalev. Motion carried.

At this point I have to address an issue I'm sure some of you are wondering about: Are we sure Kovalev was really faking here? I know I called it a tap, but Green really does give him a decent hack. Isn't is possible that he's actually hurt, and we're all pointing and laughing at an innocent (and injured) man?

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I'd like to present Exhibit A, which you may recognize from the case of the murder of the Quebec Nordiques. The prosecution rests.

By the way, that waved-off Sakic goal was so bad that it remains just about the only known instance of the NHL ever coming right out and saying one of its officials screwed up. That play doesn't get anywhere near enough run in the "worst call ever" conversation. Brett Hull and Kerry Fraser and Martin Gelinas were all bad, but none of them ended an entire team.

"Ya gotta suck it up in ovah-time, boys." I really love Boston announcers.

Anyways, the Bruins win to head back home with a 3-1 series lead, the Canadiens are in disarray over Kovalev's boneheaded play, and Boston sportswriters are writing about how this play will live in infamy as the counter to the 1979 too-many-men debacle. Anyone want to guess how the series ends?

Yes, of course, the Canadiens come back to win three straight, and Kovalev had assists on both goals in their 2-0 Game 7 win. As Mike Keenan could tell you, you do not mess with Alexei Kovalev, because he always wins in the end.

Have a question, suggestion, old YouTube clip, or anything else you'd like to see included in this column? Email Sean at nhlgrabbag@gmail.com.

DGB Grab Bag: The Bettman Sentence, Russia's List, and NBA Off-Season Jealousy published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv

[flauntpage]

DGB Grab Bag: The Bettman Sentence, Russia's List, and NBA Off-Season Jealousy

Three stars of comedy

The third star: Taylor Crosby. She's a goaltender at St. Cloud State University. You may have also heard of her big brother, but just in case you hadn't, she was nice enough to drop a mention of him into her official bio.

The second star: Justin Williams. As a diehard Leafs fan, I recognize Maple Leaf Gardens on top of that trophy. No idea what that cup-shaped thing behind it is, though.

The first star: Predators fan Andrew Fudge. OK, admittedly this one is only funny if you're not Andrew Fudge. Are you Andrew Fudge? No? OK, keep reading.

Yes, that's a diehard Predators fan who won tickets to a Stanley Cup Final game—and only realized it two months later. You can read the whole heartbreaking story here.

The Nashville Predators, sliding into your DMs like:

(Where Andrew is the linesman.)

Epilogue: This one has a happy ending.

Be It Resolved

This week, Gary Bettman appeared at a panel with the commissioners of the NFL, MLB, and NBA to discuss a variety of issues. As always seems to be the case whenever he gets near a live microphone, he said some things that annoyed hockey fans.

We've covered this sort of thing before, because it happens every few months. But this time, I'm not here to complain. No, this time, I'm bringing a solution. I've figured out one simple trick that will transform any random Gary Bettman soundbite from something that infuriates you into something that makes you nod and go "Yeah, that's fair."

I'm calling it The Bettman Sentence.

Here's all you need to do. Whenever Bettman says something about the state of the game, just recall that he's been NHL commissioner for 24 years and counting. That's already longer than three of the five men who'd held the previous title of President. He's going to pass Frank Calder within a few years. There's a decent change he'll even do what once seemed unthinkable and outlast Clarence Campbell.

Even that might be underselling it. While Calder and Campbell each led the league through tumultuous periods of major change, things just move faster these days. You could make a good case that 24 years in today's hyper-speed world should count for a lot more than 26 years back before most people had a television.

Everything about today's NHL, both good and bad, traces back to Bettman in one way or another. I know it. You know it. Every player, coach, GM, owner, and media member knows it. And it's a pretty safe assumption that Bettman knows it, too.

So whenever you hear Bettman complaining about state of the modern NHL, all you need to do is mentally append one more sentence: "And since I've been running this league since 1993, I take full responsibility for that."

That's it. Just imagine that sentence, in Bettman's trademark voice, and everything will be OK again.

Here, let's try it out. Take this quote from earlier this week, which probably had you bouncing your forehead off the nearest desk.

Bettman is basically complaining that the league doesn't get enough media coverage. But that's outrageous, because he's the one who bailed on ESPN and he lets the league be so boring and he's always picking fights with reporters and…

Calm down. Breathe deeply. And then, add the magic sentence.

"Historically, we have been underserved by traditional media. And since I've been running this league since 1993, I take full responsibility for that."

That's a perfectly rational thing to say, right? If you heard those words come out of Bettman's mouth, you wouldn't be mad at all. You'd actually think he was being downright perceptive. It's not like we're changing reality around here by making stuff up. Bettman really has been around since 1993. He absolutely knows that he's the most influential person in the modern history of the league, and probably the most influential ever, period. He knows that everything about today's game has his fingerprints all over it.

Would he say that out loud? Probably not. But he's thinking it, or at least he should be. So you should feel free to do him a favor and tack that extra sentence on for him.

Here, let's try another one:

"… and since I've been running this league since 1993, I take full responsibility for that." Boom. Suddenly, a comment that's transparently antagonistic at the worst possible time is transformed into a completely reasonable observation.

So be it resolved: From now on, every Gary Bettman quote where he's complaining about the state of the game gets The Bettman Sentence automatically appended to the end of it. "And since I've been running this league since 1993, I take full responsibility for that." Do that, and everything else starts to make a lot more sense. It will probably be good for your blood pressure, too.

Obscure former player of the week

This week, a Russian magazine unveiled its list of the country's 50 best NHL players of all-time. As always with these sort of projects, the end result made for some fun debate. They had Evgeni Malkin as the best ever, but you could make a case for Alexander Ovechkin, Pavel Bure, Sergei Fedorov, Pavel Datsyuk, Alexander Mogilny… the list goes on and on.

This week's obscure player didn't quite make the cut, but he is the subject of one of my favorite draft day stories, and that's worth something. He's defenseman Sergei Bautin.

Bautin was a big blueliner who played a physical style that earned him the nickname Bam Bam. He made his name with Dynamo Moscow, and won gold as part of the Unified Team at the 1992 Olympics alongside Sergei Zubov, Nikolai Khabibulin, Darius Kasparaitis and the subject of this week's YouTube clip.

By the time the 1992 entry draft rolled around, Bautin was 25 years old, but with the NHL opening up to European players and his international experience drawing attention, he had an outside shot at getting drafted. Hey, you could do worse with a late-round flyer, right?

Then the Winnipeg Jets picked him 17th overall.

To give you an idea of how off-the-board the pick was, consider this: Even Bob McKenzie didn't know who Bautin was, sending him into a live-TV scramble to figure out who the Jets had just used their first round pick on. It was a bizarre choice, but you know, that's what happens when your GM is Mike Smith, am I right, folks?

Bautin came over to North America and had a pretty decent rookie season, playing 71 games for Winnipeg and just narrowly missing out on team rookie-of-the-year honors. But he struggled in Year 2, and was traded at the 1994 deadline as part of the deal that saw the Wings and Jets swap goaltenders, flipping Bob Essensa for Tim Chevaldae. Bautin's stint in Detroit didn't go well; he lasted exactly one game before Scotty Bowman and the Wings sent him to the minors for being out of shape, reportedly after discovering he was a two-pack-a-day smoker.

Bautin would sign with San Jose in 1995, but once again played just a single game before the team moved on. From there, it was back to Europe, where he finished off his career, and presumably a few more packs of smokes.

Outrage of the week

The issue: The NBA off-season has been way more fun than the NHL's.

The outrage: [Folds arms and pouts.] It's not fair. Is it justified: It's been a rough summer for hockey fans, especially if you know anyone who's into basketball. It's like being a kid on Christmas morning, and watching your friend tear open a ton of cool presents. Blockbuster trades! Free agency intrigue! Front-office shenanigans! Crazy rumors! Look, he even got a traded first overall pick and a big-money offer sheet. You didn't even know those still existed.

Meanwhile, you're sitting there sadly unwrapping your discount Kevin Shattenkirk signing and trying to get excited about an Artemi Panarin trade. At some point, you just want to give up and trudge on back to bed.

It hasn't been all bad. We did get expansion, and that was kind of fun. And we might still get a Matt Duchene deal, if Joe Sakic's foot ever gets sore from continually kicking that can down the road. But yeah, let's not sugarcoat it: Compared to the NBA, our off-season sucks.

And it's nobody's fault, and there's really nothing we can do about it. This is just how the NHL has evolved in the salary cap era. Most GMs are too timid to make big trades. Offer sheets are mysteriously off the table. Teams go all out to make sure they sign all of their top players to long-term deals at the first opportunity, so nobody good ever gets to free agency. And then everyone bolts for the cottage midway through July.

Every now and then we'll get an exciting day, but that's the exception. It's not good or bad. It just is. We may as well accept it.

And sure, it's hard not to feel a little jealous of that NBA fan passed out from sheer excitement in a sea of wrapping paper and major headlines. And now he even gets to care about exhibition games? How spoiled can one kid be?

Ah well. If you're a hockey fan, this is your fate. We may as well make our peace with it.

(And then wait until the playoffs, when you're tearing into a big helping of "anything can happen" and basketball kid is stuck with "this is all pointless because everyone knows Golden State is winning again.")

Classic YouTube clip breakdown

Last week, we used this space to break down the unparalleled genius of Alexei Kovalev, as he shrugged off a vengeful Mike Keenan and labored through the greatest shift in NHL history. At times, Kovalev was the absolute best.

But other times, well, it's safe to say that the Alexei Kovalev Experience had its share of ups and downs. So today, let's balance out the scales with a look back at one of the downs.

It's April 13, 2004, and Kovalev and the Canadiens are hosting the Bruins in Game 4 of the Eastern Conference quarterfinals. The Bruins are leading the series 2-1, and just scored in the dying seconds of regulation to tie the game. Now we're midway through the second overtime, and it's safe to say that it feels like a must-win for Montreal.

Luckily, Kovalev has the puck in his own zone. I'm sure this will turn out great for Montreal.

Our hero decides to cut along his own blueline, which is a reasonable move given the Bruins forwards are heading off on a line change. But Travis Green reaches out and lightly taps him in the hands on the way by, and tragically this causes Kovalev to immediately die.

Well, OK, not quite die—but it's close enough. Kovalev bails on the play, selling the tap for all its worth in an attempt to draw a penalty. This being playoff overtime, the ref immediately checks to make sure Kovalev's arm is still attached and then puts his whistle away.

Realizing that there's no penalty coming, Kovalev jumps back in the play and delivers a textbook open ice check on the puck carrier. Unfortunately, that puck carrier is teammate Sheldon Souray, and that springs Glenn Murray on a breakaway. Anyone who has every watched hockey knows exactly what's about to happen.

Sure enough, Murray beats Jose Theodore to end the game, and the Bruins pile onto the ice to celebrate.

My favorite part of this clip is the crowd reaction. You can actually isolate the Kubler-Ross five stages of Montreal Canadiens fans watching this play unfold:

1. Ho hum, nothing is happening

2. Oh was kind of a slash

3. Umm guys…

4. UMM GUYS

5. NOOOOOOOOOOO!

(Stage 6, as always, is rioting.)

The celebration pile includes the usual fun sightings. There's Joe Thornton, in the middle of the pointless playoff run that convinced the Bruins they couldn't win with him. There's former Canadian Olympian Rob Zamuner. There's Michael "Father of William and Also That Other One" Nylander.

And there's the Bruins' rookie head coach, who looks vaguely familiar. Yes, it's good old Mike Sullivan, fresh off an impressive 104-point debut. He'd be fired by the end of the following season, and wouldn't get another shot in the NHL until Pittsburgh hired him a decade later, midway through the 2015-16 campaign. Don't tell me how that turns out, I'm going to binge watch the last few seasons over the weekend.

"This is your goal scor-rah…" I love Boston announcers.

We see the Canadiens leaving the ice, and they don't look happy. And they weren't, with Souray and coach Claude Julien both ripping Kovalev after the game for quitting on the play. They're not wrong, but I mean, Souray doesn't look great on this one either, does he? I know he's caught by surprise, but he's standing flat-footed at center ice while a forward breaks out of the zone, and he basically makes the worst possible play with the puck. Are we really going to pretend this is 100 percent Kovalev's fault?

[Thinks about the comedic implications.]

Yeah, this is all Kovalev. Motion carried.

At this point I have to address an issue I'm sure some of you are wondering about: Are we sure Kovalev was really faking here? I know I called it a tap, but Green really does give him a decent hack. Isn't is possible that he's actually hurt, and we're all pointing and laughing at an innocent (and injured) man?

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I'd like to present Exhibit A, which you may recognize from the case of the murder of the Quebec Nordiques. The prosecution rests.

By the way, that waved-off Sakic goal was so bad that it remains just about the only known instance of the NHL ever coming right out and saying one of its officials screwed up. That play doesn't get anywhere near enough run in the "worst call ever" conversation. Brett Hull and Kerry Fraser and Martin Gelinas were all bad, but none of them ended an entire team.

"Ya gotta suck it up in ovah-time, boys." I really love Boston announcers.

Anyways, the Bruins win to head back home with a 3-1 series lead, the Canadiens are in disarray over Kovalev's boneheaded play, and Boston sportswriters are writing about how this play will live in infamy as the counter to the 1979 too-many-men debacle. Anyone want to guess how the series ends?

Yes, of course, the Canadiens come back to win three straight, and Kovalev had assists on both goals in their 2-0 Game 7 win. As Mike Keenan could tell you, you do not mess with Alexei Kovalev, because he always wins in the end.

Have a question, suggestion, old YouTube clip, or anything else you'd like to see included in this column? Email Sean at nhlgrabbag@gmail.com.

DGB Grab Bag: The Bettman Sentence, Russia's List, and NBA Off-Season Jealousy published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv

[flauntpage]

DGB Grab Bag: The Bettman Sentence, Russia's List, and NBA Off-Season Jealousy

Three stars of comedy

The third star: Taylor Crosby. She's a goaltender at St. Cloud State University. You may have also heard of her big brother, but just in case you hadn't, she was nice enough to drop a mention of him into her official bio.

The second star: Justin Williams. As a diehard Leafs fan, I recognize Maple Leaf Gardens on top of that trophy. No idea what that cup-shaped thing behind it is, though.

The first star: Predators fan Andrew Fudge. OK, admittedly this one is only funny if you're not Andrew Fudge. Are you Andrew Fudge? No? OK, keep reading.

Yes, that's a diehard Predators fan who won tickets to a Stanley Cup Final game—and only realized it two months later. You can read the whole heartbreaking story here.

The Nashville Predators, sliding into your DMs like:

(Where Andrew is the linesman.)

Epilogue: This one has a happy ending.

Be It Resolved

This week, Gary Bettman appeared at a panel with the commissioners of the NFL, MLB, and NBA to discuss a variety of issues. As always seems to be the case whenever he gets near a live microphone, he said some things that annoyed hockey fans.

We've covered this sort of thing before, because it happens every few months. But this time, I'm not here to complain. No, this time, I'm bringing a solution. I've figured out one simple trick that will transform any random Gary Bettman soundbite from something that infuriates you into something that makes you nod and go "Yeah, that's fair."

I'm calling it The Bettman Sentence.

Here's all you need to do. Whenever Bettman says something about the state of the game, just recall that he's been NHL commissioner for 24 years and counting. That's already longer than three of the five men who'd held the previous title of President. He's going to pass Frank Calder within a few years. There's a decent change he'll even do what once seemed unthinkable and outlast Clarence Campbell.

Even that might be underselling it. While Calder and Campbell each led the league through tumultuous periods of major change, things just move faster these days. You could make a good case that 24 years in today's hyper-speed world should count for a lot more than 26 years back before most people had a television.

Everything about today's NHL, both good and bad, traces back to Bettman in one way or another. I know it. You know it. Every player, coach, GM, owner, and media member knows it. And it's a pretty safe assumption that Bettman knows it, too.

So whenever you hear Bettman complaining about state of the modern NHL, all you need to do is mentally append one more sentence: "And since I've been running this league since 1993, I take full responsibility for that."

That's it. Just imagine that sentence, in Bettman's trademark voice, and everything will be OK again.

Here, let's try it out. Take this quote from earlier this week, which probably had you bouncing your forehead off the nearest desk.

Bettman is basically complaining that the league doesn't get enough media coverage. But that's outrageous, because he's the one who bailed on ESPN and he lets the league be so boring and he's always picking fights with reporters and…

Calm down. Breathe deeply. And then, add the magic sentence.

"Historically, we have been underserved by traditional media. And since I've been running this league since 1993, I take full responsibility for that."

That's a perfectly rational thing to say, right? If you heard those words come out of Bettman's mouth, you wouldn't be mad at all. You'd actually think he was being downright perceptive. It's not like we're changing reality around here by making stuff up. Bettman really has been around since 1993. He absolutely knows that he's the most influential person in the modern history of the league, and probably the most influential ever, period. He knows that everything about today's game has his fingerprints all over it.

Would he say that out loud? Probably not. But he's thinking it, or at least he should be. So you should feel free to do him a favor and tack that extra sentence on for him.

Here, let's try another one:

"… and since I've been running this league since 1993, I take full responsibility for that." Boom. Suddenly, a comment that's transparently antagonistic at the worst possible time is transformed into a completely reasonable observation.

So be it resolved: From now on, every Gary Bettman quote where he's complaining about the state of the game gets The Bettman Sentence automatically appended to the end of it. "And since I've been running this league since 1993, I take full responsibility for that." Do that, and everything else starts to make a lot more sense. It will probably be good for your blood pressure, too.

Obscure former player of the week

This week, a Russian magazine unveiled its list of the country's 50 best NHL players of all-time. As always with these sort of projects, the end result made for some fun debate. They had Evgeni Malkin as the best ever, but you could make a case for Alexander Ovechkin, Pavel Bure, Sergei Fedorov, Pavel Datsyuk, Alexander Mogilny… the list goes on and on.

This week's obscure player didn't quite make the cut, but he is the subject of one of my favorite draft day stories, and that's worth something. He's defenseman Sergei Bautin.

Bautin was a big blueliner who played a physical style that earned him the nickname Bam Bam. He made his name with Dynamo Moscow, and won gold as part of the Unified Team at the 1992 Olympics alongside Sergei Zubov, Nikolai Khabibulin, Darius Kasparaitis and the subject of this week's YouTube clip.

By the time the 1992 entry draft rolled around, Bautin was 25 years old, but with the NHL opening up to European players and his international experience drawing attention, he had an outside shot at getting drafted. Hey, you could do worse with a late-round flyer, right?

Then the Winnipeg Jets picked him 17th overall.

To give you an idea of how off-the-board the pick was, consider this: Even Bob McKenzie didn't know who Bautin was, sending him into a live-TV scramble to figure out who the Jets had just used their first round pick on. It was a bizarre choice, but you know, that's what happens when your GM is Mike Smith, am I right, folks?

Bautin came over to North America and had a pretty decent rookie season, playing 71 games for Winnipeg and just narrowly missing out on team rookie-of-the-year honors. But he struggled in Year 2, and was traded at the 1994 deadline as part of the deal that saw the Wings and Jets swap goaltenders, flipping Bob Essensa for Tim Chevaldae. Bautin's stint in Detroit didn't go well; he lasted exactly one game before Scotty Bowman and the Wings sent him to the minors for being out of shape, reportedly after discovering he was a two-pack-a-day smoker.

Bautin would sign with San Jose in 1995, but once again played just a single game before the team moved on. From there, it was back to Europe, where he finished off his career, and presumably a few more packs of smokes.

Outrage of the week

The issue: The NBA off-season has been way more fun than the NHL's.

The outrage: [Folds arms and pouts.] It's not fair. Is it justified: It's been a rough summer for hockey fans, especially if you know anyone who's into basketball. It's like being a kid on Christmas morning, and watching your friend tear open a ton of cool presents. Blockbuster trades! Free agency intrigue! Front-office shenanigans! Crazy rumors! Look, he even got a traded first overall pick and a big-money offer sheet. You didn't even know those still existed.

Meanwhile, you're sitting there sadly unwrapping your discount Kevin Shattenkirk signing and trying to get excited about an Artemi Panarin trade. At some point, you just want to give up and trudge on back to bed.

It hasn't been all bad. We did get expansion, and that was kind of fun. And we might still get a Matt Duchene deal, if Joe Sakic's foot ever gets sore from continually kicking that can down the road. But yeah, let's not sugarcoat it: Compared to the NBA, our off-season sucks.

And it's nobody's fault, and there's really nothing we can do about it. This is just how the NHL has evolved in the salary cap era. Most GMs are too timid to make big trades. Offer sheets are mysteriously off the table. Teams go all out to make sure they sign all of their top players to long-term deals at the first opportunity, so nobody good ever gets to free agency. And then everyone bolts for the cottage midway through July.

Every now and then we'll get an exciting day, but that's the exception. It's not good or bad. It just is. We may as well accept it.

And sure, it's hard not to feel a little jealous of that NBA fan passed out from sheer excitement in a sea of wrapping paper and major headlines. And now he even gets to care about exhibition games? How spoiled can one kid be?

Ah well. If you're a hockey fan, this is your fate. We may as well make our peace with it.

(And then wait until the playoffs, when you're tearing into a big helping of "anything can happen" and basketball kid is stuck with "this is all pointless because everyone knows Golden State is winning again.")

Classic YouTube clip breakdown

Last week, we used this space to break down the unparalleled genius of Alexei Kovalev, as he shrugged off a vengeful Mike Keenan and labored through the greatest shift in NHL history. At times, Kovalev was the absolute best.

But other times, well, it's safe to say that the Alexei Kovalev Experience had its share of ups and downs. So today, let's balance out the scales with a look back at one of the downs.

It's April 13, 2004, and Kovalev and the Canadiens are hosting the Bruins in Game 4 of the Eastern Conference quarterfinals. The Bruins are leading the series 2-1, and just scored in the dying seconds of regulation to tie the game. Now we're midway through the second overtime, and it's safe to say that it feels like a must-win for Montreal.

Luckily, Kovalev has the puck in his own zone. I'm sure this will turn out great for Montreal.

Our hero decides to cut along his own blueline, which is a reasonable move given the Bruins forwards are heading off on a line change. But Travis Green reaches out and lightly taps him in the hands on the way by, and tragically this causes Kovalev to immediately die.

Well, OK, not quite die—but it's close enough. Kovalev bails on the play, selling the tap for all its worth in an attempt to draw a penalty. This being playoff overtime, the ref immediately checks to make sure Kovalev's arm is still attached and then puts his whistle away.

Realizing that there's no penalty coming, Kovalev jumps back in the play and delivers a textbook open ice check on the puck carrier. Unfortunately, that puck carrier is teammate Sheldon Souray, and that springs Glenn Murray on a breakaway. Anyone who has every watched hockey knows exactly what's about to happen.

Sure enough, Murray beats Jose Theodore to end the game, and the Bruins pile onto the ice to celebrate.

My favorite part of this clip is the crowd reaction. You can actually isolate the Kubler-Ross five stages of Montreal Canadiens fans watching this play unfold:

1. Ho hum, nothing is happening

2. Oh was kind of a slash

3. Umm guys…

4. UMM GUYS

5. NOOOOOOOOOOO!

(Stage 6, as always, is rioting.)

The celebration pile includes the usual fun sightings. There's Joe Thornton, in the middle of the pointless playoff run that convinced the Bruins they couldn't win with him. There's former Canadian Olympian Rob Zamuner. There's Michael "Father of William and Also That Other One" Nylander.

And there's the Bruins' rookie head coach, who looks vaguely familiar. Yes, it's good old Mike Sullivan, fresh off an impressive 104-point debut. He'd be fired by the end of the following season, and wouldn't get another shot in the NHL until Pittsburgh hired him a decade later, midway through the 2015-16 campaign. Don't tell me how that turns out, I'm going to binge watch the last few seasons over the weekend.

"This is your goal scor-rah…" I love Boston announcers.

We see the Canadiens leaving the ice, and they don't look happy. And they weren't, with Souray and coach Claude Julien both ripping Kovalev after the game for quitting on the play. They're not wrong, but I mean, Souray doesn't look great on this one either, does he? I know he's caught by surprise, but he's standing flat-footed at center ice while a forward breaks out of the zone, and he basically makes the worst possible play with the puck. Are we really going to pretend this is 100 percent Kovalev's fault?

[Thinks about the comedic implications.]

Yeah, this is all Kovalev. Motion carried.

At this point I have to address an issue I'm sure some of you are wondering about: Are we sure Kovalev was really faking here? I know I called it a tap, but Green really does give him a decent hack. Isn't is possible that he's actually hurt, and we're all pointing and laughing at an innocent (and injured) man?

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I'd like to present Exhibit A, which you may recognize from the case of the murder of the Quebec Nordiques. The prosecution rests.

By the way, that waved-off Sakic goal was so bad that it remains just about the only known instance of the NHL ever coming right out and saying one of its officials screwed up. That play doesn't get anywhere near enough run in the "worst call ever" conversation. Brett Hull and Kerry Fraser and Martin Gelinas were all bad, but none of them ended an entire team.

"Ya gotta suck it up in ovah-time, boys." I really love Boston announcers.

Anyways, the Bruins win to head back home with a 3-1 series lead, the Canadiens are in disarray over Kovalev's boneheaded play, and Boston sportswriters are writing about how this play will live in infamy as the counter to the 1979 too-many-men debacle. Anyone want to guess how the series ends?

Yes, of course, the Canadiens come back to win three straight, and Kovalev had assists on both goals in their 2-0 Game 7 win. As Mike Keenan could tell you, you do not mess with Alexei Kovalev, because he always wins in the end.

Have a question, suggestion, old YouTube clip, or anything else you'd like to see included in this column? Email Sean at nhlgrabbag@gmail.com.

DGB Grab Bag: The Bettman Sentence, Russia's List, and NBA Off-Season Jealousy published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv

[flauntpage]

DGB Grab Bag: The Bettman Sentence, Russia's List, and NBA Off-Season Jealousy

Three stars of comedy

The third star: Taylor Crosby. She's a goaltender at St. Cloud State University. You may have also heard of her big brother, but just in case you hadn't, she was nice enough to drop a mention of him into her official bio.

The second star: Justin Williams. As a diehard Leafs fan, I recognize Maple Leaf Gardens on top of that trophy. No idea what that cup-shaped thing behind it is, though.

The first star: Predators fan Andrew Fudge. OK, admittedly this one is only funny if you're not Andrew Fudge. Are you Andrew Fudge? No? OK, keep reading.

Yes, that's a diehard Predators fan who won tickets to a Stanley Cup Final game—and only realized it two months later. You can read the whole heartbreaking story here.

The Nashville Predators, sliding into your DMs like:

(Where Andrew is the linesman.)

Epilogue: This one has a happy ending.

Be It Resolved

This week, Gary Bettman appeared at a panel with the commissioners of the NFL, MLB, and NBA to discuss a variety of issues. As always seems to be the case whenever he gets near a live microphone, he said some things that annoyed hockey fans.

We've covered this sort of thing before, because it happens every few months. But this time, I'm not here to complain. No, this time, I'm bringing a solution. I've figured out one simple trick that will transform any random Gary Bettman soundbite from something that infuriates you into something that makes you nod and go "Yeah, that's fair."

I'm calling it The Bettman Sentence.

Here's all you need to do. Whenever Bettman says something about the state of the game, just recall that he's been NHL commissioner for 24 years and counting. That's already longer than three of the five men who'd held the previous title of President. He's going to pass Frank Calder within a few years. There's a decent change he'll even do what once seemed unthinkable and outlast Clarence Campbell.

Even that might be underselling it. While Calder and Campbell each led the league through tumultuous periods of major change, things just move faster these days. You could make a good case that 24 years in today's hyper-speed world should count for a lot more than 26 years back before most people had a television.

Everything about today's NHL, both good and bad, traces back to Bettman in one way or another. I know it. You know it. Every player, coach, GM, owner, and media member knows it. And it's a pretty safe assumption that Bettman knows it, too.

So whenever you hear Bettman complaining about state of the modern NHL, all you need to do is mentally append one more sentence: "And since I've been running this league since 1993, I take full responsibility for that."

That's it. Just imagine that sentence, in Bettman's trademark voice, and everything will be OK again.

Here, let's try it out. Take this quote from earlier this week, which probably had you bouncing your forehead off the nearest desk.

Bettman is basically complaining that the league doesn't get enough media coverage. But that's outrageous, because he's the one who bailed on ESPN and he lets the league be so boring and he's always picking fights with reporters and…

Calm down. Breathe deeply. And then, add the magic sentence.

"Historically, we have been underserved by traditional media. And since I've been running this league since 1993, I take full responsibility for that."

That's a perfectly rational thing to say, right? If you heard those words come out of Bettman's mouth, you wouldn't be mad at all. You'd actually think he was being downright perceptive. It's not like we're changing reality around here by making stuff up. Bettman really has been around since 1993. He absolutely knows that he's the most influential person in the modern history of the league, and probably the most influential ever, period. He knows that everything about today's game has his fingerprints all over it.

Would he say that out loud? Probably not. But he's thinking it, or at least he should be. So you should feel free to do him a favor and tack that extra sentence on for him.

Here, let's try another one:

"… and since I've been running this league since 1993, I take full responsibility for that." Boom. Suddenly, a comment that's transparently antagonistic at the worst possible time is transformed into a completely reasonable observation.

So be it resolved: From now on, every Gary Bettman quote where he's complaining about the state of the game gets The Bettman Sentence automatically appended to the end of it. "And since I've been running this league since 1993, I take full responsibility for that." Do that, and everything else starts to make a lot more sense. It will probably be good for your blood pressure, too.

Obscure former player of the week

This week, a Russian magazine unveiled its list of the country's 50 best NHL players of all-time. As always with these sort of projects, the end result made for some fun debate. They had Evgeni Malkin as the best ever, but you could make a case for Alexander Ovechkin, Pavel Bure, Sergei Fedorov, Pavel Datsyuk, Alexander Mogilny… the list goes on and on.

This week's obscure player didn't quite make the cut, but he is the subject of one of my favorite draft day stories, and that's worth something. He's defenseman Sergei Bautin.

Bautin was a big blueliner who played a physical style that earned him the nickname Bam Bam. He made his name with Dynamo Moscow, and won gold as part of the Unified Team at the 1992 Olympics alongside Sergei Zubov, Nikolai Khabibulin, Darius Kasparaitis and the subject of this week's YouTube clip.

By the time the 1992 entry draft rolled around, Bautin was 25 years old, but with the NHL opening up to European players and his international experience drawing attention, he had an outside shot at getting drafted. Hey, you could do worse with a late-round flyer, right?

Then the Winnipeg Jets picked him 17th overall.

To give you an idea of how off-the-board the pick was, consider this: Even Bob McKenzie didn't know who Bautin was, sending him into a live-TV scramble to figure out who the Jets had just used their first round pick on. It was a bizarre choice, but you know, that's what happens when your GM is Mike Smith, am I right, folks?

Bautin came over to North America and had a pretty decent rookie season, playing 71 games for Winnipeg and just narrowly missing out on team rookie-of-the-year honors. But he struggled in Year 2, and was traded at the 1994 deadline as part of the deal that saw the Wings and Jets swap goaltenders, flipping Bob Essensa for Tim Chevaldae. Bautin's stint in Detroit didn't go well; he lasted exactly one game before Scotty Bowman and the Wings sent him to the minors for being out of shape, reportedly after discovering he was a two-pack-a-day smoker.

Bautin would sign with San Jose in 1995, but once again played just a single game before the team moved on. From there, it was back to Europe, where he finished off his career, and presumably a few more packs of smokes.

Outrage of the week

The issue: The NBA off-season has been way more fun than the NHL's.

The outrage: [Folds arms and pouts.] It's not fair. Is it justified: It's been a rough summer for hockey fans, especially if you know anyone who's into basketball. It's like being a kid on Christmas morning, and watching your friend tear open a ton of cool presents. Blockbuster trades! Free agency intrigue! Front-office shenanigans! Crazy rumors! Look, he even got a traded first overall pick and a big-money offer sheet. You didn't even know those still existed.

Meanwhile, you're sitting there sadly unwrapping your discount Kevin Shattenkirk signing and trying to get excited about an Artemi Panarin trade. At some point, you just want to give up and trudge on back to bed.

It hasn't been all bad. We did get expansion, and that was kind of fun. And we might still get a Matt Duchene deal, if Joe Sakic's foot ever gets sore from continually kicking that can down the road. But yeah, let's not sugarcoat it: Compared to the NBA, our off-season sucks.

And it's nobody's fault, and there's really nothing we can do about it. This is just how the NHL has evolved in the salary cap era. Most GMs are too timid to make big trades. Offer sheets are mysteriously off the table. Teams go all out to make sure they sign all of their top players to long-term deals at the first opportunity, so nobody good ever gets to free agency. And then everyone bolts for the cottage midway through July.

Every now and then we'll get an exciting day, but that's the exception. It's not good or bad. It just is. We may as well accept it.

And sure, it's hard not to feel a little jealous of that NBA fan passed out from sheer excitement in a sea of wrapping paper and major headlines. And now he even gets to care about exhibition games? How spoiled can one kid be?

Ah well. If you're a hockey fan, this is your fate. We may as well make our peace with it.

(And then wait until the playoffs, when you're tearing into a big helping of "anything can happen" and basketball kid is stuck with "this is all pointless because everyone knows Golden State is winning again.")

Classic YouTube clip breakdown

Last week, we used this space to break down the unparalleled genius of Alexei Kovalev, as he shrugged off a vengeful Mike Keenan and labored through the greatest shift in NHL history. At times, Kovalev was the absolute best.

But other times, well, it's safe to say that the Alexei Kovalev Experience had its share of ups and downs. So today, let's balance out the scales with a look back at one of the downs.

It's April 13, 2004, and Kovalev and the Canadiens are hosting the Bruins in Game 4 of the Eastern Conference quarterfinals. The Bruins are leading the series 2-1, and just scored in the dying seconds of regulation to tie the game. Now we're midway through the second overtime, and it's safe to say that it feels like a must-win for Montreal.

Luckily, Kovalev has the puck in his own zone. I'm sure this will turn out great for Montreal.

Our hero decides to cut along his own blueline, which is a reasonable move given the Bruins forwards are heading off on a line change. But Travis Green reaches out and lightly taps him in the hands on the way by, and tragically this causes Kovalev to immediately die.

Well, OK, not quite die—but it's close enough. Kovalev bails on the play, selling the tap for all its worth in an attempt to draw a penalty. This being playoff overtime, the ref immediately checks to make sure Kovalev's arm is still attached and then puts his whistle away.

Realizing that there's no penalty coming, Kovalev jumps back in the play and delivers a textbook open ice check on the puck carrier. Unfortunately, that puck carrier is teammate Sheldon Souray, and that springs Glenn Murray on a breakaway. Anyone who has every watched hockey knows exactly what's about to happen.

Sure enough, Murray beats Jose Theodore to end the game, and the Bruins pile onto the ice to celebrate.

My favorite part of this clip is the crowd reaction. You can actually isolate the Kubler-Ross five stages of Montreal Canadiens fans watching this play unfold:

1. Ho hum, nothing is happening

2. Oh was kind of a slash

3. Umm guys…

4. UMM GUYS

5. NOOOOOOOOOOO!

(Stage 6, as always, is rioting.)

The celebration pile includes the usual fun sightings. There's Joe Thornton, in the middle of the pointless playoff run that convinced the Bruins they couldn't win with him. There's former Canadian Olympian Rob Zamuner. There's Michael "Father of William and Also That Other One" Nylander.

And there's the Bruins' rookie head coach, who looks vaguely familiar. Yes, it's good old Mike Sullivan, fresh off an impressive 104-point debut. He'd be fired by the end of the following season, and wouldn't get another shot in the NHL until Pittsburgh hired him a decade later, midway through the 2015-16 campaign. Don't tell me how that turns out, I'm going to binge watch the last few seasons over the weekend.

"This is your goal scor-rah…" I love Boston announcers.

We see the Canadiens leaving the ice, and they don't look happy. And they weren't, with Souray and coach Claude Julien both ripping Kovalev after the game for quitting on the play. They're not wrong, but I mean, Souray doesn't look great on this one either, does he? I know he's caught by surprise, but he's standing flat-footed at center ice while a forward breaks out of the zone, and he basically makes the worst possible play with the puck. Are we really going to pretend this is 100 percent Kovalev's fault?

[Thinks about the comedic implications.]

Yeah, this is all Kovalev. Motion carried.

At this point I have to address an issue I'm sure some of you are wondering about: Are we sure Kovalev was really faking here? I know I called it a tap, but Green really does give him a decent hack. Isn't is possible that he's actually hurt, and we're all pointing and laughing at an innocent (and injured) man?

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I'd like to present Exhibit A, which you may recognize from the case of the murder of the Quebec Nordiques. The prosecution rests.

By the way, that waved-off Sakic goal was so bad that it remains just about the only known instance of the NHL ever coming right out and saying one of its officials screwed up. That play doesn't get anywhere near enough run in the "worst call ever" conversation. Brett Hull and Kerry Fraser and Martin Gelinas were all bad, but none of them ended an entire team.

"Ya gotta suck it up in ovah-time, boys." I really love Boston announcers.

Anyways, the Bruins win to head back home with a 3-1 series lead, the Canadiens are in disarray over Kovalev's boneheaded play, and Boston sportswriters are writing about how this play will live in infamy as the counter to the 1979 too-many-men debacle. Anyone want to guess how the series ends?

Yes, of course, the Canadiens come back to win three straight, and Kovalev had assists on both goals in their 2-0 Game 7 win. As Mike Keenan could tell you, you do not mess with Alexei Kovalev, because he always wins in the end.

Have a question, suggestion, old YouTube clip, or anything else you'd like to see included in this column? Email Sean at nhlgrabbag@gmail.com.

DGB Grab Bag: The Bettman Sentence, Russia's List, and NBA Off-Season Jealousy published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv

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DGB Grab Bag: The Bettman Sentence, Russia's List, and NBA Off-Season Jealousy

Three stars of comedy

The third star: Taylor Crosby. She's a goaltender at St. Cloud State University. You may have also heard of her big brother, but just in case you hadn't, she was nice enough to drop a mention of him into her official bio.

The second star: Justin Williams. As a diehard Leafs fan, I recognize Maple Leaf Gardens on top of that trophy. No idea what that cup-shaped thing behind it is, though.

The first star: Predators fan Andrew Fudge. OK, admittedly this one is only funny if you're not Andrew Fudge. Are you Andrew Fudge? No? OK, keep reading.

Yes, that's a diehard Predators fan who won tickets to a Stanley Cup Final game—and only realized it two months later. You can read the whole heartbreaking story here.

The Nashville Predators, sliding into your DMs like:

(Where Andrew is the linesman.)

Epilogue: This one has a happy ending.

Be It Resolved

This week, Gary Bettman appeared at a panel with the commissioners of the NFL, MLB, and NBA to discuss a variety of issues. As always seems to be the case whenever he gets near a live microphone, he said some things that annoyed hockey fans.

We've covered this sort of thing before, because it happens every few months. But this time, I'm not here to complain. No, this time, I'm bringing a solution. I've figured out one simple trick that will transform any random Gary Bettman soundbite from something that infuriates you into something that makes you nod and go "Yeah, that's fair."

I'm calling it The Bettman Sentence.

Here's all you need to do. Whenever Bettman says something about the state of the game, just recall that he's been NHL commissioner for 24 years and counting. That's already longer than three of the five men who'd held the previous title of President. He's going to pass Frank Calder within a few years. There's a decent change he'll even do what once seemed unthinkable and outlast Clarence Campbell.

Even that might be underselling it. While Calder and Campbell each led the league through tumultuous periods of major change, things just move faster these days. You could make a good case that 24 years in today's hyper-speed world should count for a lot more than 26 years back before most people had a television.

Everything about today's NHL, both good and bad, traces back to Bettman in one way or another. I know it. You know it. Every player, coach, GM, owner, and media member knows it. And it's a pretty safe assumption that Bettman knows it, too.

So whenever you hear Bettman complaining about state of the modern NHL, all you need to do is mentally append one more sentence: "And since I've been running this league since 1993, I take full responsibility for that."

That's it. Just imagine that sentence, in Bettman's trademark voice, and everything will be OK again.

Here, let's try it out. Take this quote from earlier this week, which probably had you bouncing your forehead off the nearest desk.

Bettman is basically complaining that the league doesn't get enough media coverage. But that's outrageous, because he's the one who bailed on ESPN and he lets the league be so boring and he's always picking fights with reporters and…

Calm down. Breathe deeply. And then, add the magic sentence.

"Historically, we have been underserved by traditional media. And since I've been running this league since 1993, I take full responsibility for that."

That's a perfectly rational thing to say, right? If you heard those words come out of Bettman's mouth, you wouldn't be mad at all. You'd actually think he was being downright perceptive. It's not like we're changing reality around here by making stuff up. Bettman really has been around since 1993. He absolutely knows that he's the most influential person in the modern history of the league, and probably the most influential ever, period. He knows that everything about today's game has his fingerprints all over it.

Would he say that out loud? Probably not. But he's thinking it, or at least he should be. So you should feel free to do him a favor and tack that extra sentence on for him.

Here, let's try another one:

"… and since I've been running this league since 1993, I take full responsibility for that." Boom. Suddenly, a comment that's transparently antagonistic at the worst possible time is transformed into a completely reasonable observation.

So be it resolved: From now on, every Gary Bettman quote where he's complaining about the state of the game gets The Bettman Sentence automatically appended to the end of it. "And since I've been running this league since 1993, I take full responsibility for that." Do that, and everything else starts to make a lot more sense. It will probably be good for your blood pressure, too.

Obscure former player of the week

This week, a Russian magazine unveiled its list of the country's 50 best NHL players of all-time. As always with these sort of projects, the end result made for some fun debate. They had Evgeni Malkin as the best ever, but you could make a case for Alexander Ovechkin, Pavel Bure, Sergei Fedorov, Pavel Datsyuk, Alexander Mogilny… the list goes on and on.

This week's obscure player didn't quite make the cut, but he is the subject of one of my favorite draft day stories, and that's worth something. He's defenseman Sergei Bautin.

Bautin was a big blueliner who played a physical style that earned him the nickname Bam Bam. He made his name with Dynamo Moscow, and won gold as part of the Unified Team at the 1992 Olympics alongside Sergei Zubov, Nikolai Khabibulin, Darius Kasparaitis and the subject of this week's YouTube clip.

By the time the 1992 entry draft rolled around, Bautin was 25 years old, but with the NHL opening up to European players and his international experience drawing attention, he had an outside shot at getting drafted. Hey, you could do worse with a late-round flyer, right?

Then the Winnipeg Jets picked him 17th overall.

To give you an idea of how off-the-board the pick was, consider this: Even Bob McKenzie didn't know who Bautin was, sending him into a live-TV scramble to figure out who the Jets had just used their first round pick on. It was a bizarre choice, but you know, that's what happens when your GM is Mike Smith, am I right, folks?

Bautin came over to North America and had a pretty decent rookie season, playing 71 games for Winnipeg and just narrowly missing out on team rookie-of-the-year honors. But he struggled in Year 2, and was traded at the 1994 deadline as part of the deal that saw the Wings and Jets swap goaltenders, flipping Bob Essensa for Tim Chevaldae. Bautin's stint in Detroit didn't go well; he lasted exactly one game before Scotty Bowman and the Wings sent him to the minors for being out of shape, reportedly after discovering he was a two-pack-a-day smoker.

Bautin would sign with San Jose in 1995, but once again played just a single game before the team moved on. From there, it was back to Europe, where he finished off his career, and presumably a few more packs of smokes.

Outrage of the week

The issue: The NBA off-season has been way more fun than the NHL's.

The outrage: [Folds arms and pouts.] It's not fair. Is it justified: It's been a rough summer for hockey fans, especially if you know anyone who's into basketball. It's like being a kid on Christmas morning, and watching your friend tear open a ton of cool presents. Blockbuster trades! Free agency intrigue! Front-office shenanigans! Crazy rumors! Look, he even got a traded first overall pick and a big-money offer sheet. You didn't even know those still existed.

Meanwhile, you're sitting there sadly unwrapping your discount Kevin Shattenkirk signing and trying to get excited about an Artemi Panarin trade. At some point, you just want to give up and trudge on back to bed.

It hasn't been all bad. We did get expansion, and that was kind of fun. And we might still get a Matt Duchene deal, if Joe Sakic's foot ever gets sore from continually kicking that can down the road. But yeah, let's not sugarcoat it: Compared to the NBA, our off-season sucks.

And it's nobody's fault, and there's really nothing we can do about it. This is just how the NHL has evolved in the salary cap era. Most GMs are too timid to make big trades. Offer sheets are mysteriously off the table. Teams go all out to make sure they sign all of their top players to long-term deals at the first opportunity, so nobody good ever gets to free agency. And then everyone bolts for the cottage midway through July.

Every now and then we'll get an exciting day, but that's the exception. It's not good or bad. It just is. We may as well accept it.

And sure, it's hard not to feel a little jealous of that NBA fan passed out from sheer excitement in a sea of wrapping paper and major headlines. And now he even gets to care about exhibition games? How spoiled can one kid be?

Ah well. If you're a hockey fan, this is your fate. We may as well make our peace with it.

(And then wait until the playoffs, when you're tearing into a big helping of "anything can happen" and basketball kid is stuck with "this is all pointless because everyone knows Golden State is winning again.")

Classic YouTube clip breakdown

Last week, we used this space to break down the unparalleled genius of Alexei Kovalev, as he shrugged off a vengeful Mike Keenan and labored through the greatest shift in NHL history. At times, Kovalev was the absolute best.

But other times, well, it's safe to say that the Alexei Kovalev Experience had its share of ups and downs. So today, let's balance out the scales with a look back at one of the downs.

It's April 13, 2004, and Kovalev and the Canadiens are hosting the Bruins in Game 4 of the Eastern Conference quarterfinals. The Bruins are leading the series 2-1, and just scored in the dying seconds of regulation to tie the game. Now we're midway through the second overtime, and it's safe to say that it feels like a must-win for Montreal.

Luckily, Kovalev has the puck in his own zone. I'm sure this will turn out great for Montreal.

Our hero decides to cut along his own blueline, which is a reasonable move given the Bruins forwards are heading off on a line change. But Travis Green reaches out and lightly taps him in the hands on the way by, and tragically this causes Kovalev to immediately die.

Well, OK, not quite die—but it's close enough. Kovalev bails on the play, selling the tap for all its worth in an attempt to draw a penalty. This being playoff overtime, the ref immediately checks to make sure Kovalev's arm is still attached and then puts his whistle away.

Realizing that there's no penalty coming, Kovalev jumps back in the play and delivers a textbook open ice check on the puck carrier. Unfortunately, that puck carrier is teammate Sheldon Souray, and that springs Glenn Murray on a breakaway. Anyone who has every watched hockey knows exactly what's about to happen.

Sure enough, Murray beats Jose Theodore to end the game, and the Bruins pile onto the ice to celebrate.

My favorite part of this clip is the crowd reaction. You can actually isolate the Kubler-Ross five stages of Montreal Canadiens fans watching this play unfold:

1. Ho hum, nothing is happening

2. Oh was kind of a slash

3. Umm guys…

4. UMM GUYS

5. NOOOOOOOOOOO!

(Stage 6, as always, is rioting.)

The celebration pile includes the usual fun sightings. There's Joe Thornton, in the middle of the pointless playoff run that convinced the Bruins they couldn't win with him. There's former Canadian Olympian Rob Zamuner. There's Michael "Father of William and Also That Other One" Nylander.

And there's the Bruins' rookie head coach, who looks vaguely familiar. Yes, it's good old Mike Sullivan, fresh off an impressive 104-point debut. He'd be fired by the end of the following season, and wouldn't get another shot in the NHL until Pittsburgh hired him a decade later, midway through the 2015-16 campaign. Don't tell me how that turns out, I'm going to binge watch the last few seasons over the weekend.

"This is your goal scor-rah…" I love Boston announcers.

We see the Canadiens leaving the ice, and they don't look happy. And they weren't, with Souray and coach Claude Julien both ripping Kovalev after the game for quitting on the play. They're not wrong, but I mean, Souray doesn't look great on this one either, does he? I know he's caught by surprise, but he's standing flat-footed at center ice while a forward breaks out of the zone, and he basically makes the worst possible play with the puck. Are we really going to pretend this is 100 percent Kovalev's fault?

[Thinks about the comedic implications.]

Yeah, this is all Kovalev. Motion carried.

At this point I have to address an issue I'm sure some of you are wondering about: Are we sure Kovalev was really faking here? I know I called it a tap, but Green really does give him a decent hack. Isn't is possible that he's actually hurt, and we're all pointing and laughing at an innocent (and injured) man?

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I'd like to present Exhibit A, which you may recognize from the case of the murder of the Quebec Nordiques. The prosecution rests.

By the way, that waved-off Sakic goal was so bad that it remains just about the only known instance of the NHL ever coming right out and saying one of its officials screwed up. That play doesn't get anywhere near enough run in the "worst call ever" conversation. Brett Hull and Kerry Fraser and Martin Gelinas were all bad, but none of them ended an entire team.

"Ya gotta suck it up in ovah-time, boys." I really love Boston announcers.

Anyways, the Bruins win to head back home with a 3-1 series lead, the Canadiens are in disarray over Kovalev's boneheaded play, and Boston sportswriters are writing about how this play will live in infamy as the counter to the 1979 too-many-men debacle. Anyone want to guess how the series ends?

Yes, of course, the Canadiens come back to win three straight, and Kovalev had assists on both goals in their 2-0 Game 7 win. As Mike Keenan could tell you, you do not mess with Alexei Kovalev, because he always wins in the end.

Have a question, suggestion, old YouTube clip, or anything else you'd like to see included in this column? Email Sean at nhlgrabbag@gmail.com.

DGB Grab Bag: The Bettman Sentence, Russia's List, and NBA Off-Season Jealousy published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv