#hey can we get a third place playoff tomorrow as well

[oqmemphis]

@janmisali's Number Tournament going into the semifinals. Today's matches will feature nothing, the opposite of something, the square root of the opposite of something, and nothing divided by nothing (or one possible interpretation thereof).

[homeformyheart]

hey~

hope you are having an amazing week!

how would you feel about doing a noah harris x mc request from the best vs worst prompts?

maybe 21. best day at school vs worst day at school OR 27. best game vs worst game?

hi anon! thank you for the request, #27 was fitting and allowed me to close-out the chapter of my noah x mc arc (a little bit got cut out from my outline, but at least now it's finished).

author’s note: when I got this prompt, I decided to take the outline I had written for a continuation of my other MTFL fics and retro-fit it here, which is why it’s a bit longer than typical prompt fills. this finally gave me the motivation to continue the relationship I started in “first choice” and “the perfect gift.” I also drew some real-life inspiration from patrick mahomes of the kansas city chiefs (national football league in the u.s.). enjoy!

copyright: all characters owned by pixelberry studios. series/pairing: my two first loves - noah harris x mc (emma price) rating/warnings: 13+; none based on/prompt: best vs. worst / 27. best game vs. worst game; also inspired by the song “never really over” by katy perry word count: 1.7k summary: two years after graduating college and agreeing to go their separate ways, the universe seems to want emma and noah back together.

best game vs. worst game

worst game

emma tapped her finger on her thigh nervously as she waited in her boss’s office for her first assignment. she had spent the last two years since graduating college curating a travel blog for a small magazine, which had allowed her to travel all over europe, north america, and south america – an experience she knew was probably once-in-a-lifetime.

but she was homesick and decided to return stateside once her contract was up. it didn’t take long to find a position with a professional agency that contracts photographers out for high-profile athletic and celebrity events. even as a junior photographer, she was going to have the chance to take her own photos.

her boss finally handed her a sheet of paper without so much as a glance, motioning toward the door. emma supposed she was excused then, quickly scanning the sheet as she walked out to her car. a pre-nfl charity meet-and-greet was the assignment, and if she wanted, she could stick around to take some back-up photos of the game.

seemed easy enough. except the team was the nightingales. where her ex-boyfriend was currently the quarterback.

a little over two years ago

noah gripped emma’s hand, leg thumping nervously in anticipation. his other hand held hazel’s, who wasn’t faring much better at keeping still. on the other hand, mrs. harris had sat frozen still in front of the t.v. for the last thirty minutes, and emma had to keep glancing over to make sure she was still breathing.

to say they were all on edge was an understatement. in a matter of minutes, they’d find out of noah was going to become a professional football player.

“and the twenty-third pick goes to… noah harris!”

the room filled with squeals as they all jumped up from the couch and gathered noah into a giant group hug. his arm never left emma’s waist, even as he lifted hazel off the ground in excitement.

“you’re coming with me, right?”

she avoided his gaze, choosing to hug him and duck her head underneath his chin instead.

“tonight is about you! we can talk about us tomorrow. we should be celebrating!”

emma took a deep breath and pulled her car out onto the main road, making sure her phone was navigating to the stadium. she hadn’t seen or spoken to noah since they broke up – even though he tried to understand her reasoning, which was that he needed to focus on football and she was going to be traveling constantly – and she wondered if he was still upset.

if they ran into each other, would he even acknowledge her?

her mind raced with different scenarios of how their “reunion” could go and before she knew it, she was pulling into the stadium parking lot reserved for press. you’re here to do a job, she reminded herself as she took a deep breath and made her way into the meet-and-greet area where players were speaking to and hanging out with several families and children.

she took a quick look around and sighed in relief when she didn’t see noah anywhere. she could do this.

about an hour later, she was packing up her equipment. the game would start soon and she needed to get into position. she hefted her bag onto her shoulder carefully before standing up, immediately wobbling under the weight and losing her balance.

a strong arm wrapped around her waist and steadied her.

“thank you—” her voice died in her throat as she looked up at the man that still haunted her dreams.

his eyes and face were mostly the same, but there was a hardened edge to them that wasn’t there a few years ago. his body and shoulders were much larger as well, and he pretty much overwhelmed her frame.

“hey cheerleader.”

she swallowed. “hi, noah.”

his hand lingered even as she righted herself and cleared her throat nervously.

“good luck—”

“it’s good to—”

they chuckled, tension broken for the moment as they looked into each other’s eyes.

“harris, let’s go!”

noah shoved his hands in his pockets and took a step back. “maybe we could catch up after the game, if you want to.”

her eyes brightened. “i’d love to.”

they didn’t get the chance. the world seemed to move in slow motion when emma saw noah go down in the pocket from a particularly bad tackle. he had to be carried off the field in a stretcher and it was all she could do to keep from running onto the field.

they had broken up so he could focus on his career. she hoped it wasn’t in vain.

best game

two years later

emma crouched low to the ground with her long-range camera, snapping pictures of the huddle. there was less than twenty seconds left in the game – just enough, if barely, time for one last play. they needed a touchdown. and she could feel the nervous energy in her body thrumming in time with that of the crowd.

when noah went down with that horrific injury a couple years ago, most people wrote him off and didn’t think he’d play again. and if he somehow managed to recover? they all just said he probably wouldn’t be the same. a collarbone injury was usually a career death sentence for quarterbacks.

but the media, press, and so-called sportscasters didn’t know noah like she did. how strong a fighter he was. how he picked himself back up after every setback and pushed onward.

this time, she was with him every step of the way.

that didn’t mean he had an easy go of it.

he had to get surgery and go through months of intense physical therapy to get his shoulder feeling back to normal. then he had rehab for football to try to get back into form. and there was always doubt as to whether he’d be as good as before.

the season hadn’t gone smoothly. they scraped and clawed their way to the playoffs, with opposing teams taking advantage of noah’s occasional hesitance in the pocket and conservative throwing by pressuring his position. but somehow, they pulled through.

sportscasters all over would remark about how something seemed to just “click” back into place for noah harris.

only noah and emma knew what that something was.

a few weeks earlier

“are you nervous?”

noah hummed thoughtfully as his hand trailed up and down emma’s shoulder.

“surprisingly, no,” he said after a moment. “win or lose, i have everything i’ve ever wanted right here in my arms.”

emma chuckled. “when did you become such a romantic?”

“you know you bring it out of me.”

he turned on his side so he could nuzzle his nose in her hair. “you’re it for me, babe.”

“me too, noah. i mean it. if you’ll have me forever, i want that with you.”

noah pulled back to look at her. “for real?”

she nodded.

of course, emma couldn’t say with confidence that their conversation made that big of a difference, but noah’s performance every game afterward seemed to be nothing short of miraculous. by all means, his shoulder should still be giving him trouble, but the way he was throwing today in the championship game would make anyone wonder if he had been injured at all.

but this was it. everything was riding on this last play.

they were down by three points and too far for a field goal. a touchdown would end the game and clinch the championship. the team wasn’t known for playing it safe, not with noah and his arm at the helm.

emma was glued to her camera lens and clicking away, but she was barely focused on the shots. she just hoped the footage was positioned correctly and usable. she heard noah call out the play and quickly scanned the field as players moved into position.

a hail mary.

it really was going to come down to these last few seconds.

she saw the wide receiver break through the line and speed down the field, turning back to where noah had stepped back, arm poised to throw. on instinct, emma moved her camera up and snapped the shutter, capturing the exact moment noah released the ball, right before he was tackled to the ground.

and then everything seemed to move in slow motion.

she swung the camera to the left, finding the receiver in the end zone with his arms outstretched. he jumped up and the ball came arcing directly into his arms and the stadium roared with such an intensity she thought she was going deaf.

emma quickly put away her camera and left her bag with her assistant before running on to the confetti-strewn field, weaving around reports, players, and staff.

she knew noah got tackled. she needed to see that he was okay.

despite the reporters surrounding him, she squeezed her way through and wrapped her arms around him.

“i’m so glad you’re okay,” she yelled over the stadium noise. “i knew you could do it.”

noah smiled and removed her hands from his neck. she frowned in confusion as he took a step back and dropped to one knee.

“what are you doing?”

he was holding out a ring box in his hand and she had no clue how that got there. did a trainer or someone sneak that over to him?

it didn’t matter. it didn’t matter that they were surrounded by tens of thousands of screaming fans or that this moment was likely being broadcasted live by the sheer number of cameras around them. it didn’t matter that his friends and teammates were all hollering and creating a protective circle around them.

all she could see was the love of her life looking up at her like she was the most precious thing in the world.

“the championship ring we just won today is nothing compared to what this ring means right here,” he said, opening the box to reveal a very sizable diamond.

“marry me, em?”

emma squealed, not caring that it made her look like an excited teenager.

“of course, i’ll marry you!”

noah carefully placed the ring on her finger before wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her up. he swung her around before placing her carefully back on the ground, bringing her in for a deep kiss.

“i love you,” he whispered against her lips.

“i love you too, noah,” she whispered back as they held hands and headed off the field.

* * * * * taglist: @choicesficwriterscreations; @khoicesbyk; @nyastarlight; @chetachisblog; @robintora; @shows-simp-card; @brycesgirl;

[myhockeyworld87]

Nervous Regrets - Tyler Seguin - Part 38

Word Count: 5,621

POV: Reader then switches to Tyler

Warnings: Language

Notes: Ok so I know it’s been a hot minute for this story. I always knew where I wanted to go with this, but taking time off really helped me get here with this one. I hope you guys enjoy it. Let me know what you think. Happy Reading!

Nervous Regrets Masterlist

Reader POV

The rest of the regular season flew by in a blur and before you knew it, Dallas was in the first round of playoffs. Jace was officially a bottle baby now, which was both crushing and wonderful at the same time. It meant that you could enjoy a drink at the games with the girls, but you missed that one on one time that breastfeeding gave you with him. Though with the playoffs, Tyler was at the rink more, practicing and watching films which did leave some good mother and son quality time. Well, you should say, mother and sons, as the dogs were never far from their brother, even Gerry who had the hardest time adjusting to Jace now seemed to always be looking for him.

 The first two games against Nashville were away, and the Stars were able to come away with both a win and a loss, which wasn't too bad all things considered. Tyler had hired a private investigator to look into the comments that were on Alandra's Instagram, as well as the direct message that you received, but they were still not having any luck locating the person who'd said those horrible things. The investigator said they were all from burner accounts and that the IP was untraceable, but they weren't giving up just yet. Seeing as things had calmed down a bit, you decided that it would be ok for you and Jace to start going to the playoff games. You made sure that if a picture was posted with either of you in, comments were turned off, and all the wives and girlfriends supported you in this endeavor whole-heartedly.

 At the first home game, you wore your playoff jean jacket with Seguin, your last name now, written on the back. Last year when you'd been dating Tyler the Stars hadn't made it to the playoffs, so this year the girls went all out. You had both a Canadian flag and an American flag placed on the jacket, most of the girls only had the flag where their boyfriend or husband was from, but Tyler wanted you to put both flags on since Jace was both Canadian and American. You'd also had all three of your initials embroidered onto the jacket as well as the year, just for commemoration's sake. Jace wore his 91 jersey with Daddy written across the back as Tyler had somehow managed to buy it in every single size available all the way up to a four in toddlers. How he thought your child would grow into all those sizes in this short span you weren't exactly sure, but with Tyler's eight-year deal, Jace could grow into them over the next couple of seasons.

 Tyler made sure that you could park in the player's parking so that it would be easier for you and Jace to get in the arena. Getting out wouldn't be a problem, as you'd be waiting for him anyhow. Jenna volunteered to ride with you to help you in with Jace, while Tyler rode with Jamie, making the commute home much easier on both of you. The three of you made your way down to the glass for warmups; this would be the first time that Jace was down close to the ice and you knew that it would thrill your husband to no end. The Stars made their way out, and you watched and waited as Tyler and Jamie always went last. Finally, he stepped out on the ice and you held little Jace in front of you. His eyes darted around, watching the players skate around. Tyler didn't notice you at first as he continued to warm up. You knew the instant he saw Jace as his face lit up. He quickly skated over to the glass where you were located.

 "Hey bud," Tyler said loudly above the music as he knocked on the plexiglass drawing Jace's attention. Jace's eyes found his father as Tyler got a goofy grin on his face, which made his son smile back. "That's my boy."

 Just then Jamie skated over to join your little crew. "He needs a different jersey." You heard him tell Tyler, causing both you and Jenna to laugh.

 "Forget it, Chubbs. You may be his godfather, but he's only wearing his dad's number." A puck flew against the boards, startling Jace but thankfully he didn't cry. Tyler bent and picked it. "Catch this," he told Jenna, then he tossed it over the glass. "Save that for him babe will you." You simply rolled your eyes at how your husband wanted to document every little thing your son did. By the time Jace would be five, he'd have a room full of pucks if your husband has his way.

 "Go warm up," you shouted to him. "We'll see you after the game." You didn't need him getting injured because he hadn't stretched enough or something. Taking Jace's hand, you had him wave at his dad.

 "Bye bud, I'll see you after the game." He was just about to skate off when he turned back. "Love you," he said blowing you a kiss and you blew one back, telling him you loved him as well. As soon as he and Jamie took off, you and Jenna headed up to the friends and family room to hang out with the others before the game.

 The game was hard-fought, the Stars down one by the end of the second. Tyler got the puck from Jamie in the third and was able to put in the back of the net to tie up the game, but the Predators fought back and ended up with the win. Everyone was disappointed as it put them up in the series, but you had faith the Stars would come back in the end. Which is exactly what happened in game four when the Stars scored five straight goals before the third, to come away as the victors. It happened again in game five when they were home again. They now lead the series and could win the first round with just one more game and so they did, effectively eliminating the Predators from the playoffs.

 Tyler's family decided to fly in for the next round and flew in right after the first round was over to get a couple extra days with all three of you before the second round of play began. "Where's my grandson," Jackie cooed the minute she walked through the door from the airport, the rest of the family trailing behind her.

 "He's right here," you answered handing him over. "He took an extra long nap, so he can stay up with all of you." Jace, for his part, was his happy self, smiling and gurgling at his grandparents and aunts.

 "He's gotten so big," Jackie commented as it had been over a month since they last saw him. "You're getting to be such a big boy, aren't you Jace?" She said in the cutest little baby voice.

 "I swear mom, he changes every time I'm on the road, though (Y/N) insists he doesn't." Tyler weaseled his way in close to his mom, practically pushing Cassidy out of the way. "Tell Grammy a story." He said, finger going to Jace's chubby chin.

 "Excuse me, Mister Babyhog. You have him all the time, can you please let me in to see my nephew?" Cassidy shoved Tyler out of the way.

 "Fine, brat, though I hope he pukes on you."

 "Tyler!" You yelled at him. "He's not going to puke on you. Well…hopefully not." Jace did spit up from time to time, but all babies did that. "Why don't you guys come and sit down. I'm sure it was a long flight. Ty will take the bags up."

 "I will?" You knew he was only kidding, but you still gave him a look anyhow. "I'm going, be right back."

 "So how are the wedding plans going?" It was the first thing out of Candace's mouth since she got there. She was sitting close to Jackie, eager to scoop up your child the moment her mom handed him over.

 "Really good actually. I have a few more dress fittings, but everything else is pretty much taken care of for now. Did you both get your dresses in yet?" Both of Tyler's sisters had agreed to be your bridesmaids, and it had been a bit difficult getting their dresses plus Jenna and Anna's ordered with them being in Canada.

 "They came in the other day," Cassidy answered. "Though mine is like three sizes too big for me." When a look of shock came on your face, she quickly told you not to worry that it would be altered before the wedding. It was hard to believe that in a couple short months you'd be marrying Tyler in front of all your family and friends. Of course, you were already Mrs. Tyler Seguin, but this ceremony was going to be your dream wedding, the one you'd thought about since you were a little girl. Tyler had made sure to spare no expense to make all your dreams come true. Time flew by as you guys chatted about the wedding, hockey, and everything that had been going on with their lives. Jace however, reminded you that it was feeding time, letting out a hungry cry while Cassidy was holding him. "I swear I didn't pinch him."

 "He just hungry is all. It's about a half-hour later than when he eats." She went to hand him over, but you stopped her. "You can feed him if you want. He's a bottle baby now. Let me just go get one ready." Jackie knew this information already as you'd had long conversations with her about it, but you didn't want to get into it now with Tyler's dad there. You went into the kitchen and prepped Jace's bottle, only to see that you were running low on formula. Jace seemed to be going through more formula than you could buy sometimes. Although it was more than likely you just weren't used to buying it and having it in stock in your pantry. Handing over the bottle to Cassidy, you walked over and Tyler afterward telling him that you needed to go to the store to pick some more up.

 "Babe, it's late can't we just get it tomorrow?"

 "We're completely out, that was the last bottle. I forgot to write it on my list. I'm still not used to it buying it all the time." You told Tyler as he reached for your waist to pull you close. "I'll literally be fifteen minutes."

 "I can go."

 "Stay with your family. I won't be long." Leaning down you placed a chaste kiss on your husband's lips. "You can bath Jace if you want because he'll probably be ready for bed soon."

 "Sure babe, hurry back." He said before swatting your butt as you walked away. The grocery store wasn't more than five minutes from your house and was pretty quiet at ten-thirty on Tuesday night. Which meant you could get in and out of there in no time. You grabbed a basket and headed toward the baby food aisle. It just so happened your walk passed the snack aisle. It was like your favorite chips were calling out your name, as they were on the end cap. You grabbed a bag, knowing Tyler would make fun of you for getting them, as you'd been trying to shed the last few pounds of baby weight, but you figured it was ok to cheat while the family was there. Calories didn't count when there were more people to share your indulgence.

 You also grabbed a couple other things that you'd thought you'd need in hopes of not having to come to the store for a few days, before picking up four large cans of formula for Jace. There was only one register open, but seeing as the place was practically empty; you didn't have to wait for anyone else to check out in front of you. "Hi Mrs. Seguin," Jimmy your bagger said. He was a cute high school kid, that always seemed to remember your name. Probably because you'd gotten him a signed puck from Tyler after he'd helped with all your groceries every time.

 "Hi Jimmy, I'm surprised to see you working tonight."

 "Gotta get the hours when I came, with track season."

 "How's that going? I think last week you told me you took fourth in the four hundred." You liked that young Jimmy not only worked hard at his sport but also his job. He seemed like a really nice kid.

 "Took second this week." He told you, all smiles, as he bagged up your groceries and placed them on the carousel.

 "Congratulations, keep up the good work. I'm sure the next one, you'll be in first place."

 "I sure hope so. Need me to help you out tonight."

 "No, I only have a few things, but thanks." You picked up Jace's formula and started to head for the door. "I expect to hear that you're on top of the podium the next time I'm in. Have a good night."

 "You too," he called out as the doors slid open for you.

 The parking lot was always dim and you vaguely wondered when they were going to get the lights fixed as you headed toward the SUV. You weren't paying attention, solely focused on just getting to the car, when you felt someone come up behind you. "Get in the car if you ever want to see your son again." You gasp as you felt a cold steel blade against your midsection. You wanted to scream, but it somehow died in your throat as you realized the threat of never seeing Jace again. Headlights seemed to appear out of nowhere as a car started to pull forward. "Do as I say and you won't get hurt." The deep timbre of the man's voice told you. The urge to throw up was overwhelming. What did this man want with you? Was he going to kill you or worse hurt Jace? You would die before you'd let anything happen to your baby. You had no choice but to do as the man said.

  TYLER'S POV

 "Tyler, I think the cops are here," Cassidy yelled from downstairs, and you instantly checked your watch to see what time it was. (Y/N) had left well over a half-hour ago to go get formula. Your heart was in your throat as you carried Jace downstairs wrapped in a little duckie towel, with no diaper on yet.

 "Are you sure they're coming here?"

 "Sure looks like it," Cassidy said as she peered through the curtains in the dining room which gave a great view of the front lawn, where two cop cars were now pulling in. Your heart started to sink. You hadn't remembered hearing any sirens, and surely you would've if there'd been an accident. You hadn't looked in the garage but (Y/N) almost always drove the G wagon when she went somewhere and that would be the best car to keep her safe in the event of an accident. Panic must have shown on your face for the next thing you heard was your mom's voice.

 "I'm sure everything's fine sweetheart."

 It seemed as if it was taking the officers an endless amount of time to get to the front door, leaving you plenty of scenarios running through your mind. Maybe there was a shooter and your wife was lying on some cold grocery store floor bleeding out. While Tweedledee and Tweedledum took their sweet time coming to get you. So help you god, if (Y/N) needed you and these two didn't get to you in time there would be hell to pay. You found yourself shaking and no idea why as the doorbell rang. You were already standing there, so you opened it with your free hand, the one not holding Jace. "Mr. Seguin?" The office inquired and you tried to read their face to gauge what had happened.

 "Yes."

 "We're here about your wife, (Y/N)." A ringing noise sounded in your ears and things became muffled as your heartbeat sped to a rapid pace. You'd never passed out in your life, but it felt like you were going to. You were vaguely aware of your mom taking Jace out of your arms until you heard his cries, which snapped you out of things. You needed to be strong not only for (Y/N) but for Jace as well. "There's been an incident involving your wife." The minute the words were out of the officer's mouth, all the blood drained from your body. Jace could not grow up without his mom; you wouldn't let it happen.

 Somehow you found the courage to ask, "Is she ok?"

 "Oh, yes, she's a little shaken up, but that's to be expected." The words shaken up kept echoing in your head, but at least she was ok. Maybe it was just a small car accident. You could replace the car twenty times over, but you couldn't replace (Y/N). "They're taking her down to the station to get her statement. She asked if we could come and get you."

 The other officer chimed in. "And bring you these as well." It was grocery bags with formula in it for Jace. If she still had the presence of mind to send that home, she must be ok surely.

 "What happened?"

 "Oh I'm sorry, we should've mentioned this before. There was an attempted abduction."

 You blinked as if you'd misheard him, but then you heard Cassidy repeat the word abduction. "Are you trying to say someone tried to kidnap my wife?" When the officer nodded, you swore. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

 "No sir, we're not. I think it best if we head to the station. We can continue this down there." Of course, he was right, but you wanted to know everything and you wanted to know now. "Mrs. Seguin is pretty shaken up, understandably and I'm sure your presence there will help." The cops were right, you needed to be with (Y/N).

 "Can you…" you turned and asked your family.

 "Of course," your mom answered not even letting you finish asking her to watch Jace.

 "Do you want me to go with you?" It was your dad who offered, but you shook your head no. You wanted to be with (Y/N) and not have to worry about anyone else.

 "No, I'll keep you guys posted though." You grabbed your phone before following the officers out to the car. Thankfully, it was a quick ride to the police station. You wanted to sprint inside but didn't know where to go, so you had to bide your time and follow the cops in. They lead you to a room off to the side where (Y/N) was sitting, her body visibly shaking as she sat there. "(Y/N)." Her head snapped up at the sound of your voice, and you took in her appearance, mascara streaked down her face from crying, eyes red and swollen from the same. She looked like hell, but at least she was here. In less than a second, you were standing in front of her, pulling her into your arms. She sobbed and sobbed, and you found yourself crying as well as you stroked her back and pressed kisses to the top of her head. "I've got you," you whispered and there was part of you that never wanted to let her go. Ever. You let her cry a bit more, then pulled her back a bit, still keeping your arms around her, needing to touch her to know that she was fine. "Are you ok? What happened?"

 She took in a deep breath, trying to calm her shattered nerves. You rubbed her arms up and down. "I'm ok, just scared." You could see that in her eyes. "I thought I'd never see you again for a minute." That ringing in your ears came back and you didn't even like the thought of thinking that something like that could happen, and though you wanted to hear what happened, you pulled her back in, your lips going straight to hers.

 "I will never let that happen," you told her between a few more kisses.

 "Mr. and Mrs. Seguin," a detective said as he and a fellow officer stepped into the room. "We were wondering if we could get your statement now, ma'am?" (Y/N) nodded her head and they motioned for you both to take a seat. "I know we've been over this before, but we need to have it officially on the record." He pulled out a recorder and set it on the table. "Can you start from the beginning for us?"

 You put your arm around (Y/N) hoping to give her some measure of comfort. "I had gone to the store for the formula for my son." (Y/N) started. "I grabbed a couple extra things, then went to checkout. I talked to Jimmy for a couple minutes."

 "And Jimmy is…" the officer prompted.

 "He works as a bagger at the store. He usually carries my groceries out to the car for me."

 "Ok continue."

 "Since I didn't have that many bags, I told Jimmy not to worry about taking them to the car and I started out to the parking lot. That's when some man came up behind me." She shuttered and you tightened your grip around her. "He told me to get in the car if I ever wanted to see my son again." You swallowed past the lump that had formed in your throat, as (Y/N) retold the details of what happened. "He had a knife pressed against my stomach." Unconsciously, you looked down and saw the tear in her shirt as well as the blood.

 "Fuck, are you hurt?" You knew you were interrupting but this was your wife and if she was bleeding, you needed to get her to the hospital.

 "It's just a scratch." She told you lifting the shirt and showing you the bandage that someone had obviously put on.

 "Ma'am if you could keep going?"

 "Yes, of course." (Y/N) answered with a shaky breath. "There was a car, a black SUV of some sort, maybe a suburban. I can't be sure. I saw it coming towards us and knew he wanted me to get in the vehicle. I didn't know what to do." She turned towards you then, ignoring the police. "I knew you had Jace and that nothing would happen to him, but I was so scared and then he pressed the knife further into me and told me that if I did what he said I wouldn't get hurt." My god, the terror that must have been running through her. It was going through you right now as she was reliving it. You wanted to hit something or punch someone, preferably the person who had done this to her. "The car was almost to us when Jimmy came running out hollering my name. I had forgotten a bag. Jimmy, must have been able to see the knife or know something was wrong because then he was yelling at the man to let me go and he called for security. I didn't even know they had security there."

 "They don't ma'am. I think that was just a tactic he used to scare your attacker." You remembered (Y/N) having you sign a puck for this young kid, but now you owed him so much more.

 "Oh, that was smart. Much smarter than I was." A couple tears were coming down her face and you brushed them away with the pad of your thumb. "Anyway, the next thing I knew the guy pushed me towards Jimmy. I think that's when he cut me. I really don't know. It could've been earlier too. I never really felt it." Her hand went to her stomach almost as if she was wondering how she couldn't have felt the wound being inflicted. "I remember falling on top of Jimmy. I didn't see what happened next, but I could hear the tires screeching as the car got away. The next thing I knew there were workers from inside the store rushing out and they brought us both inside and put the store on lockdown then called you."

 "Did you ever see the man that tried to take you?"

 "No," she whispered harshly as if she was berating herself for not seeing his face. "He had on a black hoodie and black gloves. That's all I remember. I should've seen more."

 "No, it's quite alright." The officer shut the tape off then. "You've given us a lot to go on, plus we're looking at the footage from the grocery store. Hopefully, we'll be able to get a license plate off the vehicle or a clear look at the man's face."

 "We don't believe that this is any sort of human trafficking incident." The second detective told you. "If I had to guess, I'd say this was a targeted attack against you and your family."

 This time you were shaking along with (Y/N), though not from fear but anger. That someone would purposely go after your family made your body white-hot with fury. "Who would do such a thing?"

 "We'd like to know that as well Mr. Seguin. Is there anyone that you could think of that would want to harm either you or Mrs. Seguin?"

 "I mean, we've had a few comments on Instagram. Nothing with anyone threatening to harm us though." You told the police. "I'd actually hired someone to look into the matter, though they haven't found anything yet."

 "If you could put us in contact with that person, we'd greatly appreciate it."

 "Of course." You wrote down the name of the investigator that you'd hired along with his number. "May I ask why you think they're targeting us?"

 "The fact that they knew you had a son, gives us the impression that they've looked into your family. Maybe they simply wanted money and not to harm you, it's hard to say, especially with you being a well-known athlete and all." You'd give up your career in a heartbeat if it meant it would keep your family safe. "You haven't noticed anything suspicious around your house lately. Maybe a parked car that's there, that you don't recognize or someone driving by a lot." Both you and (Y/N) shook your heads no, though you'd be sure to have the security footage of your house checked. "It's likely they've been watching you and waiting for the right opportunity to present itself, like tonight. We'll have a car drive by over the next week to make sure things are ok."

 "Thank you, we'd appreciate that." (Y/N) told them.

 "That's all we need for now," the officer said, then handed you over a card. "We have all your information if we find out anything at all, we'll give you a call. If you remember anything, Mrs. Seguin, please call us."

 "I will and thank you." With that, you headed out of the station and into your car to head home.

 The drive home was silent, though you held (Y/N)'s hand the whole way, brushing your thumb across her knuckles in a loving way. The closer you got to home, the more you wanted to say something, but just didn't know what to say. "Babe, I know my family is going to ask a ton of questions. If you just want to go to bed that's fine."

 "No, it's ok."

 "Well, just say the word if they annoy you or something." She smiled over at you then, it was lacking that bright and airiness that she always had, so you brought her hand to your lips and kissed her. "Whatever you need baby, I'm right here."

 You pulled the car in the garage, practically running to get out so that you could be by (Y/N)'s side. The moment you opened the door all eyes were on the two of you; your mom rushing up to (Y/N) and pulled her into a tight hug. "Oh sweetheart, are you ok?" You heard a small sob escape her lips and your heart broke yet again. It took everything your power to let your mom comfort her, instead of pulling (Y/N) back into your arms.

 She didn't cry long though, pulling back from your mom and brushing away the few tears she'd shed. "I'm fine or I will be. I just need to see my son."

 "I just put him down to sleep," Cassidy somewhat protested and you gave her a look to silence anything else she might say.

 "You go see him, dear. I'm sure he needs his mom as well." Again, that weak smile appeared on her lips as she headed off upstairs to Jace's room. As much as you wanted to run upstairs behind her, you knew your family was anxious to hear what had happened, so you filled them in before following (Y/N).

 When you finally made it upstairs about ten minutes later, she was just standing by the crib staring down at your son. You placed your hand at the small of her back, letting her know you were there. She flinched slightly but then melted back against you. "He looks so peaceful. I don't want to wake him." She whispered.

 Kissing her temple, you told her, "Pick him up, babe." You knew she was dying to hold him, you could feel it in the way she stood there, hands clenched on the railings of the crib trying to stop herself. "You know he'll go right back to sleep." Jace was used to you coming home late and holding him even if he was fast asleep.

 She nodded then leaned down and gently picked him up. Cradling him in her arms, you saw her bring him up to her face and just inhale his fresh baby scent. She kissed his little head and you saw tears slip down her cheeks, yet she seemed to hold it together for Jace's sake. You slipped your arms around her waist, wincing when you felt the bandage on her stomach. She leaned back into your embrace. "Can he sleep in our room tonight? I don't want to be too far away from him."

 "You don't need to ask me that (Y/N). He can sleep in there forever."

 Her head twisted back to look at you. "Not forever."

 "Well, no, but you know what I mean." You dropped a kiss to her temple, then rocked back and forth with her and Jace in your arms. Time just sort of disappeared, and you weren't sure how long you stayed like that. "Why don't we head to bed?" She nodded and the two of you went downstairs, everyone sitting in the living room with the tv on but only for background noise.

 You thought (Y/N) would head straight to the bedroom, but she stopped. "I'm so sorry that I ruined tonight."

 (Y/N) went to say more, but your dad stopped her. "Sweetie, this was not your fault."

 "No, it most definitely wasn't," your mom added. "Why don't you let me make you a cup of tea? It'll help you sleep."

 "That would be lovely. Thank you, Jackie."

 "Sure things sweetheart. I'll bring it to you. Now you go lay down." Your mom shooshed her out of the room and down the hall. You mouthed a thank you to her, as you followed (Y/N) to the bedroom.

 Grabbing Jace's bassinet, you pulled it over to (Y/N)'s side of the bed so Jace would be close to her. She kissed him a few times before laying him down. It was moments later that your mom was bringing her in a cup of tea. She quickly gave you both a hug goodnight and said she'd see you in the morning before closing the door, leaving the three of you alone again. "Let's get you ready for bed." You went into the closet and grabbed one of your old t-shirts that was her favorite for her. When you came back into the room, her top was off and you got a good look at the size of the cut on her stomach. The bandage covered most of her abdomen and you sucked in a breath hating that not only did she have to go through something like this but now she would carry the scar from it to remind her. Mentally, you made a note to talk to the team doctor on tips to minimize the scarring for her.

 She slipped into the t-shirt then sipped some of the tea before crawling into bed, her hand immediately going to the side of the bassinet. You climbed in behind her, wrapping your arms around her so that not an inch of space separated the two of you. "I love you, Ty," she whispered, her free hand entwining with yours.

 "I love you more, baby." You peppered her with kisses, in her hair, on her neck, anywhere that you could. She relaxed a bit in your arms and you were hoping that she was falling asleep, but then you heard a soft sniffle. Your wife was trying to be so brave and you loved her even more for that, but she didn't need to be. "I've got you, baby. I'm not going to let anything bad ever happen to you." It was a bit later when you finally heard her sleeping, though for you sleep wouldn't come as you laid there coming up with ways you were going to protect your family.  

[princessamericachavez]

I wanna write a long multi chapter fic about Jack and Shitty becoming friends but also I don’t have the mental bandwidth right now so instead I’m just gonna blurt out a long bulletpoint fic so bare with me

Okay so Shitty B. Knight arrives to Samwell hungry for life and friends and finally some fucking air to breathe and be himself away from his conservative family

And it is fucking great, okay? From the get go he finds that his loud left wing talk is welcomed here, he gets to joke around and be as weird as he wants and no one cares

He hits it off pretty quickly with nearly everyone in the team. Sure, Johnson is a little weird and keeps talking about this merely being the “prologue of someone else’s story” but what he’s really curious about is the quiet Canadian guy that barely talks to anyone

Now, Shitty knows about Jack Zimmermann. Obviously. You have to grow up under a rock to not know about Bad Bob and his kid.

He also knows what happened. It must be a sore subject.

Is that why he’s so quiet?

It’s not that Shitty makes Jack a project. Not really. It’s that Shitty has been in a place where he felt lonely and out of place before and it sucked ass. He wants to help.

So he tries. Constantly.

Because Shitty sees the spark hiding behind the ice cold facade. He sees the way Jack’s face lights up in the rink, how loud and youthfully he celebrates cellys, how protective of others he is in the ice.

That’s a guy he WANTS to be friends with.

Except he can’t. After every training, Jack shuts back up

“Hey, Jaques, wanna go grab a bite?” “Thanks but I should sleep. We got an early day tomorrow.”

“My man, Zimmermann, lets go to that fucking party across campus!” “I’d rather not.”

“Hey, let’s celebrate this fucking win!” “I was actually gonna watch the game tonight. There was a play there that keeps bothering me.”

Anything that isn’t hockey is an instant No from Jack but Shitty is too stubborn to give up.

“Hey, Jack, I was going to train a bit extra on Sunday. Care to join me? You could teach me some of those sick moves.” “Sure.”

VICTORY. Sort of. Working out extra with Jack is exhausting, physically and mentally because Shitty keeps trying to come up with jokes and keeping up 90% of the conversation.

It takes nearly a month until Jack agrees to grab a bite after their Sunday skate and Shitty is so fucking beat that he nearly falls asleep on his burger.

“Hey, Shits, nice ketchup mustache,” Jack chirps him suddenly. And it’s the smallest, dumbest possible thing but Shitty laughs a little too loud and Jacks shoulders seem to lose a bit of that perpetual tension he’s always carrying.

It gets better after that. Slowly, painstakingly, but Shitty finds himself enjoying Jack’s company more and more.

He’s a genuinely good bro. He listens, even when he’s just grunting along time Shitty’s monologues, and he asks questions that shows that he actually cares, every now and then. It’s odd, being taken seriously.

By the end of their first semester, Jack and Shitty are spending a lot of time together. Which is why he asks him to come to the art kids party where Larissa is going to be.

Who? “Brah, Larissa Duan? Just the coolest fucking chick ever! I told you about her the other day, man. She said we should come over to this thing and I would go, but I know shit about art and I would rather not go along and bring my best fucking bro with me.”

After the word vomit he worries that maybe he pushed too far, judging by the way Jack freezes and stares at him like a deer on headlights. But then Jack sighs and says “fine, I’ll go,” and Shitty whoops with excitement

The party goes better than Shitty could’ve ever dreamed. Larissa’s super chill energy seems to have an effect on Jack, who half an hour in is talking about photography with some other art kids and he even agrees to come grab a beer with him and Larissa afterwards.

Until, of-fucking-course, Jack goes into hockey-mode and asks Larissa if she would like to be their team manager. They need one and she seems good at organizing stuff.

“Brah!” “I think it would be cool” “wait, what” “I’ve been looking to do more stuff and you guys are dope. Would I get my own nickname?”

And Jack looks her with that seriousness that means he’s thinking about hockey and firmly says “Lardo” and she says “sweet” and Shitty corrects “swasome” and things are good.

Thing don’t stay good, because as chill as Shitty tries to be, life rarely stays chill.

After winter break, in the smothering tightness of his folks’ home, Shitty finds himself craving that weird and easy friendship with Jack.

Why he finds is a Hockey Robot. All Jack seems to do and talk about is how to get the team to the play-offs. He trains longer than anyone (more than Shitty can keep up with), and when he isn’t on the ice, he is thinking about hockey or talking about plays or or about eating more protein.

Shitty is angry. Not that he would tell anyone (except Lardo) because it’s really not his place (he knows about shorty family dynamics, no pun intended) but he’s mad because Jack’s folks seem to have done quite a fucking number on him over the break and it kills him to even think about it.

And then family weekend comes and Bad Bob himself shows up to Samwell with his beautiful wife and Shitty has to swallow down his anger because Jack wants them to go have diner together and it’s the first human interaction he’s had with Jack in a month so sure he’ll go.

Shitty is good at being nice and polite around people he dislikes. He hates doing it, but it’s like muscle he had to work on growing up.

Except, Bob and Alicia are nice. Like, fucking nice. Even for Canadian standards. They are sweet and funny and normal and keep reassuring Jack about their love and support every third sentence.

And still, Jack has that grim “thinking about the next game” look on his face the whole time.

Shitty is confused as fuck.

The game goes well and Jack is the happiest Shitty has ever seen him as he celebrates his goal in the ice. He even hugs Shitty and thanks him for his assist.

Three games later they are out of the playoffs and Jack shuts down everything and everyone around him.

Shitty tries. He knocks on his door at least twice a day to see if he wants to go over to the Haus to hang out with the team. He offers going out for burgers or a beer or both. He even enlists Lardo, hoping the team manager will be able to snap him out of it.

Jack leaves early for a Hockey Summer camp and doesn’t say goodbye but Shitty hears from Johnson that he also got dibs on a room at the Haus.

Jack actually texts Shitty during the summer. It shocks him so much that he has to double check his phone before replying.

The texts are just to comment on the NHL playoffs and finals, sporadic and robotic at times, but Shitty does his best to drag the conversations for as long as possible. Once the season is over, so are the texts.

Shitty assumes Jack must be pretty happy though since his old bro won the cup.

When fall comes, Shitty stumbles again into Jack’s hockey-robot mode. His intensity is nearly terrifying. He barely speaks out of practice, only leaves his room to go to lecture or the rink. Looks like he hasn’t been sleeping at all.

Shitty is worried. He’s hurt, too, because he misses the friendly Jack that had slowly started coming out of his shell, and he wonders if it’s going to be like this, back to square-one after every break, but most of all he’s worried about Jack.

Lardo tells him to give him space. She says she sometimes gets “on the zone” for an art project and can forget about the rest of the world. Shitty likes thinking of Jack as an artist, but he hates seeing him this unhappy. None of the old tricks work to cheer him up.

Then comes the first Kegster of the year. Two frogs, Hostler and Ransom, take over planing duties and the party is the biggest the Haus has ever seen.

It’s freaking dope.

And then, fucking Kent Parson fucking shows up asking about Jack.

Lardo and Shitty nearly have to drag him out of his room to greet his old best friend.

Jack is cold towards Pars, in a way Shitty has never seen before. He’s downright rude and mean in every comment, no matter how much Kent tries to joke around, and five minutes later Jack turns around and leaves him talking to himself.

He’s jealous, Shitty realizes, and he’s being petty and awful and he doesn’t know this Jack Zimmermann at all.

Shitty runs after Jack upstairs, maybe a little emboldened by the alcohol.

“Hey, brah, what the fuck was that?”

“Stay out of it, Shits.”

“Nah, man, that was weird as fuck.”

“Seriously, you don’t know what you’re talking about”

“Then tell me, man, I’m your fucking friend! Just talk to me!”

Jack slams his bedroom door on his face and Shitty deflates. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe they are not friends after all.

The rest of the semester is tense. Shitty tries to focus on his classes, on the ice, on how fucking cool and pretty and funny Lardo is, on the parties and the rest of the team.

It just bothers him. He misses Jack. He’s still there but he’s been absent any time they aren’t in the rink. He’s still great and focused and nearly friendly in the ice, but anything else is like the fucking twilight zone.

It’s before a game that he finds Jack sitting outside Faber, curled into a ball and physically shaking.

Shitty thinks of the headlines about Jack OD’ing, thinks of his tension around his loving parents and his reaction to Kent Parson showing up. Anxiety. The word takes form in his head, clear and obvious and the relief of having an answer hits him so hard he wants to laugh.

Instead, he sits next to Jack, who stirs when he feels him by his side but actually seems to relax when he realizes it’s Shitty who found him like this. Jack lets out a breathy “I’m fine” and Shitty says “sure, brah, but I’m fucking nervous about tonight, mind if I sit here for a while?” And Jack shakes his head. So they sit, in uncharacteristic silence, until Jack’s breathing normalizes.

“Thanks, Shits. Could you not-“ “Don’t worry man, I ain’t saying fucking shit to anyone.” And Jack smiles for the first time in months.

By the end of the semester comes the Epikegster to end all the kegsters. Which means, of course, Shitty gets shitfaced.

Which is why he ends up stumbling drunkenly to his room in the middle of the night to grab another pair of sunglasses because who knows where the fuck his other two pairs went

And it’s why he doesn’t know how to react when he finds two linebackers throwing up on his bedroom floor

“Brah, what the fuck, get outta here!” He yells, trying to grab one of the guys and pull him out to the hallway.

Except, the guy is huge. And he is angry.

Shitty doesn’t know what hit him when someone throws him to the floor.

His brain thinks he’s been checked for a second but then he remembers he’s not in the ice.

The other guys, however, apparently don’t remember they aren’t on the field because the second dude tries to tackle Shitty just as he’s getting up and he barely has time to dodge before one gigant ducking foot goes through the bedroom wall

“Hey, man, what the fucking fuck?!”

Shitty tries to steady himself, increasingly accepting that he’s about to get into a fight he didn’t ask for. He has time to think it’s ironic that his first real fight in Samwell will be off-the-ice.

And then the bedroom door opens and in comes Jack Laurent Zimmermann in all of his gorgeous badass glory.

“Let’s all calm down, eh?”

Here’s the thing: it’s easy to forget how strong Jack is. Shitty is used to hanging out with Hockey Bros and it’s easy to forget that not everyone’s bro’s are big muscley athletes defying toxic masculinity standards one day at a time. But Jack, even when he doesn’t look that big, is one of the strongest people he’s met.

He remembers all this when Zimmermann grabs the two by their shirts and drags them out of the room and all the way downstairs.

Shitty stumbles after them, as Jack pulls them like they aren’t both huge masses of muscle and throws them out to the street.

By the time Shitty reaches the porch, a bunch of big as fuck guys are standing there, looking drunk and angry and ready for a fight.

So Shitty does the one thing that makes sense to him: he squares up next to Jack, ready to fight back to back with him.

Before they can get run over by fists, however, Jack reaches for the only emergency measure in the house: an old as balls fire extinguisher.

Two minutes later, the football bro’s are running away and Shitty is laughing so hard he collapses on the floor next to Jack.

Jack kneels next to him, with his serious hockey face on, puts a hand on Shitty’s shoulder and asks “you alright, Shits?”

Shitty nods, still laughing, and to his surprise Jack laughs too, sitting by his side on the floor. They sit there, chuckling, until the sound dies down and they both sigh at nearly the same time.

Whatever tension there was between them seems to have desipated with that clouth of dust of the fire extinguisher.

“Thanks for having my back, bro”

“Hey, you always have mine,” Jack shrugs. “What are best friends for?”

Shitty cries. Jack freaks out that he might have said the wrong thing. Shitty just hugs him and shouts about being the best bros.

That winter break Jack invites Shitty over to his house and Shitty accepts eagerly.

Bob and Alicia are sweet and happy to have him and keep saying how much Jack talks about Shitty and how thankful they are that Jack’s found so many good friends in Samwell and they’ve heard about Lardo and Hostler and Ransom and Johnson and Shitty most of all.

This time he manages not to cry.

At the end of the break, Jack and him are hanging out and Jack says “Hey, Shits, I’m not good at this but I wanted to say thanks, for not giving up on me when I was acting kinda weird.”

And Shitty just laughs and says “it’s alright man, I figured you have like hockey robot mode and then human mode.”

Jack makes a face. Shitty shrugs.

“I’ll take them both, brah.”

Jack doesn’t cry, because he’s Jack and even his human mode struggles with emotions, but he smiles and throws a snowball at Shitty’s face and that’s all he wanted really.

[somedayonbroadway]

Hong Kong Sloth

Buckle up! This is a long one!

For the BMW AU Masterline, click here!

“Hey, Kloppman, what’s up?

“Mr. Kelly, I just thought you should know that the Higgins boy missed his History test this morning.”

“He what?” A few people turned to look at Mr. Kelly as they filed into his classroom. Jack hadn’t mean to hiss so harshly.

But the kid knew better than that.

“Oh! That’s my fault!” Kelly leaned around his boss to find Albert rushing towards them from his usual seat. “My fault!” he repeated, clearly stalling, trying to remember what he was told to say. Jack knew Tony better than that. “I was supposed to tell you, Race had a severe case of... uh...” DaSilva put his hands on his hips as he paused, deep in thought.

Jack crossed his arms and stepped closer to him, nodding at him to continue.

Albert put a hand on Kloppman’s shoulder. “Help me out here...” he asked.

Kloppman just squinted at him. “Sloth?” he asked, knowing the boy wouldn’t come up with anything.

Albert nodded and laughed in agreement of something he clearly was not getting. “Yeah! Hong Kong Sloth!” he stated with enthusiasm.

Jack was less than amused. He shook his head. “Oh, that boy... Mr. Kloppman?” he asked.

The man already knew what he was going to say. So he nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. Kelly nodded and grabbed his keys off of his desk, walking out of the room fast as he headed towards his apartment.

Kloppman looked down at his student and neighbor. And he sighed. “Not your best work, Mr. DaSilva...”

Albert could only shrug before he slid back into his seat.

—

Jack stormed into his own apartment, not even bothering to close the door when he found a teenager, lounging on his couch, still clad up in his pajamas, laying under a blanket. “Higgins!” he called, startling the boy a bit. “What the hell are ya doin’?”

Race smiled up at him. “Hey, Jack!” he tried to playoff, a cheesy smile melting onto his face as Jack placed his hands on his hips.

“You missed a history test, Tony,” the teacher scolded.

The boy’s face genuinely light up at that. “Oh, that was today? Boy, that worked out,” he almost joked. Jack knew he was thankful for it though. And it worried him.

“This is the third time you’ve skipped this week, you know I’m all for a break every now and then, but this is gettin’ outta hand!” Still the boy didn’t move. The smile fell a bit off of his face and Jack knew he needed to talk to someone. “Tony... I give up, kid... I’m here, n’ I’m tryin’, but... I got too much goin’ on ta figure you all out,” he sighed, seeing a spark of guilt shine in the boys eyes. He hadn’t meant it like that. But all he could do was sigh and shake his head. “Look, tomorrow morning, you’re seein’ a guidance counselor,” he decided, moving to sit at the arm of the couch that student occupied.

The boy looked up at his temporary guardian and hissed. “I don’t think so, Jack. My people are celebrating a very important holiday tomorrow.”

The small smirk that slid onto Jack’s face couldn’t be helped. This boy knew how to make him laugh, that’s for sure. “Yeah? And what people would that be?”

The look on Race’s face fell as he thought for a moment before shrugging. “Well... we’re stayin’ home tomorrow ta come up with a name!” he decided.

Jack rolled his eyes. He ruffled the boys hair and shook his head as he stood. “You have three minutes. Get dressed n’ meet me downstairs.”

Race groaned.

Jack walked back out the door, only turning back as he remembered, “History test! At lunch! Up n’ at ‘em!”

Again, Race only groaned.

—

“Hong Kong Sloth?” Race asked his best friend outside the counselor’s office.

Albert shrugged. “Kloppman came up with Sloth. But I added the Hong Kong part.”

Rolling his eyes, Race fell back into the seat beside his friend. “Kelly didn’t even wanna talk about it. He just said ‘Higgins, tomorrow your seein’ the new guidance counselor,’” he mimicked, taking his best shot at Jack’s New York accent which was much heavier than his own.

With a small laugh, Albert wrapped an arm around his best friend. “Maybe it won’t be so bad... I mean, ya don’t even really gotta listen. All ya gotta do is sit there for n’ hour,” he stated, trying his best to cheer his friend up.

“Yeah, I guess...” Race sighed, though he wasn’t quite convince.

“Antonio Higgins?” The boys stood and walked away, turning to his best friend and reaching for him dramatically. Albert did the same back. But then Race turned around and went solemn again.

Albert laughed.

—

“So, Antonio, tell me what your last guidance counselor was like?” the kind looking woman asked.

Race shrugged. “This is my first time,” he admitted.

The young, admittedly attractive woman grinned. “Really?! Mine too!” She brought her hands over her mouth after that and blushed. “Whoops... I shouldn’t have said that out loud...” she giggled.

The boy smiled at that. “Your secret’s safe with me,” he stated, leaning back in his chair.

The counselor smiled and looked back down at the file in front of her. “Okay, according to your file...” she paused when she opened it, her face dropping. “Wow...” she breathed, not quite sure how to continue.

Letting out a small snort, Race shook his head. “Lemme save ya some time... you can just skip ta the part where ya tell me ‘education is the key to a happy and successful life’,” he said, giving her a small shrug, knowing where this conversation would inevitably lead.

“Is that what I’m supposed to say?” the woman asked, looking back up at him, her kind smile working it’s way back onto her face.

“Everyone else does,” the kid admitted.

Smiling at the young boy, the woman cocked her head a bit at him. “You know, Antonio, growing up, all my parents every talked about were the three M’s: Money, Marriage and Mortgage,” she explained, shaking her head at the memories and looking back down at her desk.

But Race laughed. “My dad always talked about the three B’s,” he remembered, smiling as it all came back. “Babes, bucks and brewskies,” he recited, his voice suddenly gruff and harsh, more like his old man’s.

“Your dad sounds colorful,” the counselor laughed.

The boy shrugged. “Yeah... at the trailer park... he used ta say ‘One man’s septic tank is another man’s oasis’,” once again trying to mimic his papa’s voice.

Something in him ached.

He ignored it.

“I never knew what he meant...”

“Can I take a shot?” the woman asked. Race leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, like Jack did when they were having a serious talk, as he nodded. “I think he meant what’s good for one person doesn’t hold for everyone,” she explained.

Race squinted. He supposed that made sense. “Huh... So like... maybe college ain’t where I’s supposed ta go?”

The woman stood and rounded her desk, sitting on its edge and crossing her legs. “Ya know, I didn’t want to go to college when I first graduated. I took a year off to travel and see the world and... figure out who I was...” she said. “I went to Europe, even live in Spain for a few months. I bet I know more about bull fighting than any woman you’ll ever meet.” She sounded proud of that.

But the boy let out a small chuckle. “You don’t know my aunt Debbie,” he replied.

“Look, the point is,” the woman continued through a laugh. “I did end up in college. I just had to find myself first...”

—

Race smiled when he saw his best friend practically asleep at their favorite booth in their favorite restaurant. He rushed over and slid into the seat across from him.

Albert woke with a start, only lifting his head long enough to catch sight of the other boy before laying it back down. “There a reason ya made me get up at five in the mornin’?”

“I’m takin’ off, Al...” Race whispered. “I just... I wanted ta say goodbye...”

Albert lazily raised a hand and waved. “Okay... goodbye,” he said, almost falling back asleep.

His friend laughed. “I’m serious. I’m leavin’ town,” he said.

So Albert lifted his head again and rubbed at his tired eyes. “Racer, I know what this is... t’day’s Miss Birnnaum’s biology test. N’ seein’ as you’ve never met Miss Birnbaum, you’re ‘takin’ off’,” he quoted, knowing his friend better than that.

At least, he thought so.

“It’s not about school, Al! It’s about me!” There was a big grin on the boy’s face. Albert was beginning to get worried. “I can’t be happy in school till I’m happy with myself. I’ve never been more ready for anything in my whole life,” he stated confidently. But then he leaned across the table. “Do you got a few bucks?”

Rolling his eyes, Albert groaned. “No! Race, what about Kelly?”

“He doesn’t know, n’ I don’t want him ta find out. He’ll try n’ stop me,” Race sighed. “Look, this... this is what my dad does. It’s what I have ta do... I’ll come back... when I’m ready—“

“You’re not ready for this, Tones!”

“Albert, I’ve thought all this through. Traveling is in my blood. I’ll be alright...” he promised, standing back to his feet and adjusting the backpack strap over his shoulder. “I’ll see ya soon, okay?”

The blond didn’t give his friend a chance to respond before he was standing to his feet and heading towards the exit. Albert didn’t have the slightest clue how to stop him.

—

The red headed boy rushed through the halls, betting that if people didn’t want to get rundown, they’d get out of his way. He found his path to Kelly’s classroom and found him adjusting the glasses on his face as he turned through a few pages of their textbook and wrote a few things up on the board. “Mr. Kelly! We gotta talk! It’s about Race!”

Kelly sighed and turned to him for only a moment before focusing back on his task. “Let me guess, today he’s got African Sloth,” he stated offhandedly.

In other circumstances, Albert would’ve laughed at that.

But not today.

“No! He took off!” he said. “I’m not supposed ta tell you, but I gotta... he took off...”

Jack paused for a moment, praying that what the kid was saying was some kind of joke. But there was no punchline. So he took the glasses off of his face and tossed the book down onto his desk. “What are you talkin’ about? Where did he go?” he asked, worry radiating off of him in a second.

“I dunno... he had that meeting with the guidance counselor and the next thing I knew, he was takin’ off,” Albert explained, shrugging and noting the look in his teacher’s eyes. It was the same one his own father got whenever him or Henry did something that could get them hurt.

Kelly nodded, biting his lip and rounding his desk. “DaSilva... thank you... you did the right thing,” he stated as he walked with purpose out of the room and towards the counselor’s office.

“Yeah,” Albert rolled his eyes. “I’m cursed...”

Jack didn’t hear him.

He only stopped when he saw a kind young woman exiting the office. One he hadn’t seen before. “You! You’re the new guidance counselor?”

She smiled at him. “Yes, I am,” she confirmed.

“I sent Tony Higgins to you yesterday—“

“Oh, you’re James Kelly!” she realized.

Jack tried not to flinch at the use of his full name. He nodded. “Yeah, he ran away. Do you have any idea where he might a’ gone?”

“He ran away?” the woman repeated.

She was starting to get on Jack’s nerves. “Yes! What did you two talk about? I need ta make some sense a’ what happened between yesterday n’ this mornin’.”

The woman jumped a bit at the tone but shrugged. “Well, we talked about family and college and finding yourself and... oh...”

“What?”

Looking up at him, the counselor admitted it. “I told him about my year off in Europe.”

If Jack wasn’t inside of this school he would’ve given this woman a piece of his mind. “You said that to a fourteen year old boy who already thinks that stability is the last thing he needs? What kind of guidance is that?” he asked.

Travel was the last thing Race needed, let alone by himself. Jack knew he wasn’t the greatest example of a stable environment. He’d never had one himself growing up. He knew what running away entailed. He didn’t want that for the kid.

But the woman stood up straighter. “Hey! I’m just the guidance counselor! He spent an hour with me. He’s been living with you for five months. Why do you think he ran away?” she challenged.

Jack scowled at her but sighed, knowing she had a point.

But it didn’t matter.

All that mattered was finding Race.

—

Jack rushed through the doors of the closest bus station. He looked around almost frantically before practically melting in relief at the sight of the boy sitting against the wall, a piece of paper and pencil propped up in his lap.

He calmed himself before slowly making his way towards the kid. “Higgins... thank God...” he breathed as he stood above the child, catching his breath.

The boy jumped a little, looking up. “Jack... h-how’d ya find me?”

Jack scoffed. “Easy. Once I found out where you were goin’, I figured Racetrack Higgins, Europe, Bus,” he smiled, squatting down in front of the kid who just smirked.

The boy pulled his ticket out of his pocket. “I’m goin’, Jack. Next stop, Paris!”

“Paris, Texas,” Jack corrected turning the thing to show his student.

The boy’s smile fell. But he shrugged. “Hey... it’s a start...” he figured.

Jack sighed. “Look, kid... I dunno what that counselor told you... but runnin’ away is not the answer,” he reasoned, placing a hand on the kid’s knee.

“I ain’t runnin’ away! I’m goin’ someplace! Doin’ somethin’ with my life—“

“And if you’re so sure that’s what you’re ready for, why didn’t ya come n’ talk ta me about it?” Jack asked, hurt. But he tried to hide it.

The boy’s gaze fell back down to his notebook. “Ya got your own stuff goin’ on...”

“That don’t mean I don’t care what’s happenin’ with you,” the man countered, moving to sit beside the boy against the filthy wall. He looked down at the page and found that Race was sketching. It was a decently good outline of a horse. It actually looked... almost real.

“I know you care... I know that we’re like... buddies ‘r whatever—“

“Racer, it’s more than that... yeah, we’re pals, but I’m still responsible for you,” Jack stated.

“Give yourself a break, Jack, you’re not my dad,” Race insisted, folding up his notebook and shoving it in his bag as he sat up.

Jack shrugged, something inside him breaking just a little. “No... no I’m not...”

“And I’m cool with that! I’m used to bein’ on my own...” The words were familiar to Jack. The boy stood. He followed suit. “It’s made me realize that I have ta look out for myself... so... I’ll see ya later... thanks for the window...”

The words were genuine. But the kid still walked away from him.

He only made it a few steps before Jack crosses his arms over his chest. “Antonio!” he called. “Get back here. Now.”

The boy listened to him. He never knew why. But he did.

“You’re not goin’ anywhere—“

“I’m goin’ ta Europe—“

“You’re goin’ ta Texas,” Jack deadpanned. “N’ while there ain’t nothin’ wrong with Texas, you’re fourteen, ya got no money, ya got no clue what you’re gettin’ yourself into. Ya think there might be a chance that I know what I’m talkin’ about?”

Race looked down at his feet. He rocked back and forth a bit. “I dunno...”

“Well I do... you’re comin’ home with me where you belong,” he decided. Because Race couldn’t have this choice. This choice to run away. Jack couldn’t let him go through that. He’d starve himself to death or get caught up in the wrong crowd and he didn’t need to know what any of that life felt like. “Look... if you really wanna go ta Europe... we’ll go t’gether. Next summer,” he promised.

The way those big blue eyes trailed up to him where heartbreaking. But a small smile made Jack feel whole again. “I could get behind that...” the boy decided.

Jack nodded. “Only if you start goin’ ta class n’ gettin’ your grades up. Yeah?”

Before Race could even think of a response, an old man sitting in a chair beside them cleared his throat, pointing over at the boy. “I’d listen to your dad if I were you, kid,” he winked.

Something warm flooded through Race at those words. He couldn’t describe the feeling. But he knew it was good. And Jack chuckled.

“Yeah... yeah I think I will,” Tony agreed. So Jack nodded at the man in thanks before wrapping an arm around his student... his kid... and leading him out of that bus station.

“Let’s go home...”

Ooooh Racer... What a guy...

Also, if any of ya’ll would like to be on a tag list for this story, let me know!

[trashforhockeyguys]

Wholeheartedly /4/ Auston Matthews

You had to hold both of the boys back when they heard the front door open. They both wanted to attack their uncles the second they realized that they were coming. They loved when your brothers and sister came to town. Your whole family lived in Windsor, just a couple hours away, but even still you didn’t see them very often.

“Where are my boys?” Lucas yelled, walking into the house.

“UNCLE LUKE!” B yelled, duking under your arm to run to him.

“Brian Lucas!” He laughed, picking up B, “Dude, you need to stop growing, you’re almost as tall as me.”

Jakey was next to break away when Peter walked in behind Lucas. Much to Peter’s surprise, Jake almost knocked him flat on his ass. Both boys switched and attacked the opposite uncle. You laughed when Lucas actually did end up on the floor when Jake jumped on him.

“Alright you two, let your uncles breathe,” You laughed, extending a hand for Luke.

“Hey big sis,” Lucas laughed, “You look good.”

“Can’t complain,” You shrugged, “Hey Pete.”

Your big brother gave you a bear hug, as was tradition with the two of you. You quickly gave a hug to Lucas as well. You’d always been pretty close to both of the growing up, even closer to your little sister until you graduated and moved away. You loved nothing more than when they all came to visit.

“I’m guessing Aus is already at the rink?” Peter questioned.

“Yeah, they had a skate this morning so he just stayed,” You shrugged, “We should be leaving before too long. Traffic is going to be a bitch.”

The boys, much to your surprise, behaved the entire way there. They didn’t scream like they normally would, or complain about how long it was taking to get there. Instead, they only talked about how excited they were.

By the time you got to the arena, they were both ready to take off towards the locker rooms. B and Jakey wanted nothing more than to see their dad and his teammates. You knew they would absolutely beg you to let them give the guys their pregame high fives.

Lucas hoisted little Jakey onto his shoulders, while Peter carried Brian on his back. You’d figured if your brothers had the boys, then they couldn’t go running off like you knew they would. But they were still trying to get their uncles to walk even faster.

“Okay, I’m going to put you down now,” Lucas warned Jake, “But you are not going to run anywhere, until your mama says you can, okay dude?”

“Fine,” Jakey groaned.

“Alright, you guys go do your thing, we’ll meet you at our seats,” Peter told you, dropping Brian back on the ground.

“Just try not to let little Lukey get lost, or buy out half the store,” You joked.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Peter cracked a big smile before dragging Lucas behind him.

You tried to get both of the boys to calm down before taking them into the locker room, but It was hopeless. They were practically bouncing off the walls. They were always like this to some degree on game night, but they definitely kicked it up for playoffs.

“Alright, go,” You laughed pushing the door open for them.

You watched as Brian ran straight to Auston, latching onto him like always. Jakey, who’s little legs couldn’t run as fast, tried to follow behind but ended up being scooped up by Freddie. Jakey’s giggly squeal could be heard over the sound of the music as Freddie lifted him higher.

“UNCLE FREDDIE! PUT ME DOWN!”

“No, you’re my good luck charm, remember?” Freddie joked.

“Freds, you know we love you,” Auston stated, “But you’re not going to make my son a goalie.”

“I want to score!” Jakey cheered.

“That’s my boy,” You laughed.

Haley poked Freddie’s cheek and laughed, “I want to score on you Uncle Freddie!”

Auston, along with most of the locker room, laughed at Jakey’s comment.  Freddie shook his head and put Jakey back down, allowing him to automatically run to Auston. You let them hug on their dad for a few more minutes, knowing they hadn’t seen much of him since the playoffs started.

“Alright, you boys do your thing, so these guys can go do theirs,” You told your two boys.

They groaned but quickly perked up as they ran around giving everyone multiple high-fives. They yelled and cheered the whole time. A couple of the players even gave each of them big hugs. By the time you were finally able to wrangle them out of the locker room, they were both a little too pumped for the game to actually start.

“Y/N, hold on a sec,” Auston came running out behind you.

“What’s wrong?” You questioned, making sure the boys were staying put.

“Nothing, I just wanted to kiss you before you left,” He shrugged.

You laughed and walked back over to him. You had to get on your tiptoes, since he already had on his skates. He kissed you quickly, since he only had a few minutes before he had to get back to the locker room. You were quick to hug him.

“Be careful okay? I didn’t like the looks of the last game,” You mumbled into his chest.

“It’s okay, I can handle myself honey,” He promised, “It’ll be a breeze.”

“You’re lying,” You accused, “But I’ll look passed it. Good luck, I’ll see you after the game.”

He gave you a big smile, before waving at the boys and disappearing back to the locker room. You grabbed both of the boy’s hands and started to lead them to the seats you’d managed to get right behind the bench.

The boys started dragging you when they caught sight of your brothers. What you didn’t expect though, was your sister and parents being there too. You let the boys run to your parents while you all but tackled your sister. You hadn’t seen Erika in forever, she’d been so busy with school and hockey.

“How the hell are you here?” You questioned, “You little shit, you told me you were too busy!”

“Yes, I am a little shit, who loves her big sister more than she should,” Erika laughed, “I called Auston, he helped set it up.”

“I’m going to fucking kill him later,” You laughed.

“Maybe wait until after you’re pregnant again,” She shrugged.

You coughed and smacked her, “Erika!”

“Just saying,” She defended herself, “I want a little niece, I can only do so much with these little guys.”

She grabbed Brian and gave him a big kiss on the check, while B tried to get away from her. You quickly reached around to give each of your parents a big hug. Before the game started, all the boys could do was fight over who was going to sit next to who. Being the smart woman that you were, you decided they’d just have to switch seats in between each period so they’d both be happy.

Once the game started, they were fully focused on that though. They watched every single play; not once did they actually take their eyes off of the puck. During breaks, they’d dance around if a song was good enough, or they’d just talk off their aunt and uncle’s ear.

Around half way through the first period, a certain song came on. You automatically looked down at the bench, half of the team was already watching the boys. You nudged Erika, telling her to get her phone out and start recording.

You had to hold back your laughs as the boys started doing the dance that went along with Crank That by Soulja Boy. You glanced down at the bench, Mitchy was nudging Auston, obviously happy the boys still remembered it. You knew both of the boys were on the big screen, you could hear half of the arena awing.

People started cheering them on as they kept dancing. Even the guys on the bench started cheering. Auston looked at you with the biggest smile that you’d ever seen during a game. You both knew that videos of the boys would be all over the place tomorrow, but neither of you minded. You loved that they were having fun.

Things on the ice started to get dicey by the end of the second period. You could feel the whole vibe of the rink change. Sometimes, when you were younger, you could just feel when a fight was going to happen. It was like the air always got thicker in a way. You felt that way now.

The boys were oblivious, loving that both teams were hitting harder and more frequently. But you knew that this wouldn’t end well. It wasn’t often that anyone fought in the playoffs, there was always too much at stake, but you could just feel that it a fight was brewing.

“Hit him Uncle Willy!” Jakey screamed from beside you.

You were clutching the armrests on either side of your chair. It wasn’t until five minutes left in the game that something actually happened. Mitch was just behind the play when he got blindsided. Before you could even blink, Auston was dropping his gloves. Both of your boys shot up, watching closely as Auston started fighting.

“Kick his ass Daddy!” Jakey screamed.

Brian looked over at you, back at Jakey, and then back at the ice towards Auston before joining in, “YEAH! Kick his ass Daddy!”

Both of your brother started laughing, while like you, your sister was a little shocked. You looked back at Auston, who was now getting hit. His helmet was already off and laying on the ice a few feet away. You looked over at your family again.

“I’m so going to hell for this,” You muttered.

You stood up along side your boys, “C’mon Auston! Kick his ass!” You screamed.

You watched as he finally took the other guy down to the ice, winning the fight. They finally pulled them apart. Mitch was the first one to skate over to Auston. He leaned in and told him something before pointing back towards all of you. Auston smiled, which surprised you, before giving you a sort of solute. You gave one back as your boys started cheering along with the rest of the arena. Even your parents joined in.

You shook your head as he left the ice. Somehow, you had a feeling he wouldn’t even be mad about any of it. The Maple Leafs won the game, advancing them to the third round of the playoffs, he definitely wouldn’t be mad.

“Hey slugger,” You laughed as you met up with Auston, “Thought you had it handled.”

“I didn’t lose, did I?” He joked, “Guess we’re going to have to have a chat with the boys later, huh?”

“Yeah,” You sighed, “I think they spend too much time with all of you.”

“Probably.”

B on Morgan’s back as he ran around the locker room. While Jakey was hanging out in Willy’s lap, talking about one of Willy’s goals. They were running around while the media was conducting interview with a couple of the players. What made you laugh is when a couple of them were asked about your boys dancing and yelling during the fight.

“Where are your parents?” Auston asked.

“They already went back to the house,” You replied, “Apparently they all had to be up early for another meeting with some college recruiter for Erika.”

“How many colleges does that make?” He asked.

“Too many,” You laughed, “My baby sister is too young to go to college. I refuse to believe that she’s almost an adult.”

Auston smiled and wrapped his arms around you. You watched the boys celebrate with the guys, screaming every now and then as someone unexpectedly picked them up. Things would be different by this time next season, hopefully you’d either have another baby, or would be pregnant with one. Jakey would be four by then, B would almost be six. But next year seemed like a million years away.

By the time the two of you finally got the boys back home, they’d fallen asleep in the back seat. You carefully carried the boys upstairs and put them into bed, making sure to turn on Jakey’s little nightlight so that hopefully he wouldn’t come running into your room in a few hours.

You said goodnight to both of your brothers, who still up watching TV in the living room. You slowly made your way back upstairs to your bedroom. Auston was already in bed, flipping through the guide trying to find something to watch. He looked tried, but you knew he probably wouldn’t actually fall asleep for a few hours.

“You know, I forgot how much I loved watching you fight,” You stated, crawling into bed next to him.

“Oh? Is that so?”

“Mhm,” You nodded, “It’s kind of hot.”

“Shit,” He mumbled, “You know we have a full house, right?”

“Yes I do,” You stated, “But, they all said they wanted to take the boys out tomorrow, and I know you don’t have to leave until late afternoon.”

He smirked as he pulled you on top of his chest, “You’re trying to kill me woman.”

“Maybe,” You shrugged.

“It’s a good thing I love you,” He joked.

“You better, it’s not like we haven’t been together almost nine years,” You laughed.

“Damn, nine years already?” He whistled, “Feels like yesterday.”

“I know,” You whispered, putting your head on his chest, “Crazy how time flies.”

“I’m glad you decided to do that camp,” He told you, “I’m glad you decided to be a bitch to me that day too.”

“Oh god, I was such a bitch to you,” You groaned.

“Yes, you were,” He laughed, “But it’s okay, I think that’s what made me fall in love with you in the first place.”

“Oh, so you fell in love with me because I’m a bitch?” You questioned.

“Well, no? But kind of?” He started to panic a little, “You know what I mean!”

You laughed and leaned up to kiss him, “I know what you mean babe.”

You rolled off of him, choosing to cuddle into his side. He hummed as he tightened his grip on you. You nuzzled into him, taking in his warmth.

“You’re ready to fall asleep, aren’t you?” He questioned.

“It was a long day,” You yawned.

He kissed the top of your head before turning off the tv, “Get some sleep.”

“You didn’t have to turn it off,” You told him, turning you head to look at him.

“You can’t sleep with it on,” He pointed out.

“But you-”

“Just go to sleep Y/N,” He laughed, “We can argue about the damn TV tomorrow.”

[andrewuttaro]

New Look Sabres: 2019 NHL Draft

Rasmus Dahlin is a hard act to follow. I think part of the reason Alex Nylander went through such Sabres popular opinion hell was because he was the first round pick the year after Jack Eichel’s Draft. Maybe that’s me projecting because my little Sabres heart hadn’t been broken for a while at that point. I really only jumped on the Sabres wagon at the beginning of the decade so my biggest lived disappointment in this team was the 2011 First Round against the Flyers. Picking Alex Nylander was a curve ball that year and he didn’t pan out immediately. That failing to hit on high draft picks was part of then-General Manager Tim Murray’s undoing and part of what ruined rebuild 1.0. That’s not to mention how bad GMTM was for Nylander’s development thrusting him right into the AHL. You couldn’t put all that on Nylander. I hoped so hard going into this Draft that whoever gets drafted the year after Dahlin isn’t under that kind of microscope right away. Nylander had a tiny little renaissance during his callup last season but he’s still not quite there yet. He’s about to enter what-the-hell-are-you territory but to be very honest his name coming up in trade talks made me a little angry. Hold back your snide tweets, apparently they’re informing the real insiders! I can’t imagine anything like the Nylander Saga repeating itself, but this is the Buffalo Sabres we’re talking about.

The Draft last year felt like a coronation for Sabres fans but just because we’re not getting a generational talent this go around doesn’t mean this draft isn’t ripe for drama. Rewind back about a month and Buffalo was once again the home of the NHL Combine. The event that now will be in Buffalo for several years to come saw the genesis of a few Draft narratives for the Sabres. The most notable one is the Alex Turcotte story. Apparently Sabres brass interviewed Turcotte and… his dad? The reports were conflicting but Turcotte definitely represented a big blip on the radar. The young Mittelstadt-color-palate-swapped center is from Chicagoland and was probably not likely falling any further than 7 – Buffalo’s first pick. Turcotte was a popular choice to go to the Blackhawks in many mock drafts because of the Chicago connection. Jason Botterill and the funky bunch also interviewed one London Knights forward Conor McMichael. Sabres bloggers smarter than I say he was an intriguing option for the other first round pick... that’s if we have that second first round pick because with other teams wheeling and dealing for a week plus going into the Draft Jason Botterill was quiet. There had been rumors galore connected to Buffalo from Tampa to Vancouver which made the lack of movement that much more peculiar. Add onto all this the debut of a Vegas Gold look for the Sabres “Golden Season” instead of royal blue and it was a wild week going into the Draft.

Jack Hughes and Kappo Kakko went first overall as expected. The Alex Turcotte watch was short lived, but he didn’t go third overall to Chicago as many predicted. He had to wait all the way to number 5 when the LA Kings scooped him up. Conor McMichael went 25th overall to Washington but this is a Sabres blog so you’re probably waiting for some Sabres talk. With the 7th overall pick the Buffalo Sabres selected WHL center Dylan Cozens. Once again, smarter bloggers than I say that selection was solid because the first round of this draft was really three tiers: the top two, two through about ten and then everyone else. The Red Wings threw a curve ball and selected Disney Channel star Moritz Seider throwing off everyone’s top ten but for the most part there weren’t many surprises. I was on the Cole Caulfield bandwagon, but he probably wasn’t a wise choice at seven. When he began to drop I even entertained the idea of Botterill trading up with that second first rounder to get him, but this was not one of those drafts and he went 15th overall to… Montreal. Ugh. How about something funny? The Panthers picked goalie Spencer Knight with their 13th overall. That was funny too, but this joke is a Sabres joke: Cozens is the first WHL draft pick in Jason Botterill’s time as General Manager of the Buffalo Sabres. This is a real, deep-cut Sabres joke but there is some humor to that. I think the social media guy for the team knew it too because one of the first photos from them after his pick was Sam Reinhart greeting him. Sam is the last WHL guy to be drafted onto the Sabres. Again, it’s deep cut joke about how Botts hates the WHL so it’s not going to get the whole room but there you go: Humor. I’m not going to pretend to know how to project out Cozens because again, I’m not the smart guy in the room; but I will say it is great to start to replenish the center depth in the organization which dropped off a cliff only a few guys down the depth chart.

The Sabres used the 31st overall pick to… just make a pick. No trades in the first round. As Day One wound down the swell of energy that it may happen dissipated and they picked USHL Defenseman Ryan Johnson. I am all for picking lefthanded D to help build up that side of the defense but the buzz around the pick was a guy with a Russian name who will certainly make me regret not knowing his name. Johnson could’ve easily fallen into the second round, but the pick was in and another defenseman is in the pipeline. Trades, at least the variety from the Sabres, were scarce in the remaining rounds on Saturday. The Sabres traded some late round picks but no real consequential trades on Draft weekend for Buffalo put a little bit of a damper on it all for me. I don’t really subscribe to the idea the yet-to-be-announced salary cap number is really what’s stopping trades. PK Subban got traded to the Devils for a bunch of no names and low picks while we wondered if Sabres 3rd round pick goalie Erik Portillo is in fact named after a type of pepper. The lack of movement right now isn’t something worth panicking about but if we’re sitting here next Monday on Free Agency Day wondering if we’re crazy I’m not going to blame anyone for hitting the panic button. Botterill has signaled a renewed faith in Rasmus Ristolainen probably egged on by the new coach so… you can fall either way on whether the OG Rasmus needs to go. I lean toward trade him but that doesn’t have to be right now. We’ll address all this stuff in the free agency blog so let’s take a look at who else was picked. I mentioned Portillo and we won’t see him even in Rochester for a couple years but that’s fine, the goalie depth was beginning to get shallow. Botts said openly he doesn’t want to rush Ukko Pekka-Lukkonen who will probably make his Rochester Americans debut this coming season. That is smart and frustrating because goalies take a long time to develop when you do it right but… uh… did you watch the second half of last season? Part of that collapse was the goalie tandem coming back down to earth hard. Folks were clamoring for UPL, probably a little too hastily but that’s what eight years out of the playoffs will do to you. I am not particularly jazzed about the other three guys we got. You take flyers on guys that far down in the draft and the chances are better than not all three of these guys I am about to mention don’t make the NHL: Aaron Huglen, Filip Cederqvist and Lukas Rousek. Hopefully one of them is a diamond in the rough. Perhaps it’s unfair for us to be so underwhelmed. Sean Tierney at Charting Hockey placed the Sabres in a top six of teams who did well at the Draft. He’s worth follow if you want to understand how you can make a graph of average likelihood to make the NHL because Lord knows I can’t explain that.

Like, share and comment on the New Look Sabres blog. It’s great to be back at it. You can expect the post on the 2019-2020 NHL Schedule later this week. By the sounds of it that will be released by the league either tomorrow or Wednesday. We already have the preseason, season opener and home opener but I’ll save all that analysis for that blog. Then later on next week you can expect a Free Agency Recap. Normally by the fourth of July the action quiets down. Jeff Skinner happened in August last summer but hey, I’m not psychic. Thank you to everyone who responded kindly to me dropping off the map for a couple days. My wife and I had a family emergency that we needed to address so we put everything on hold. We’re back now and things are going to be alright. Your support means a lot to me and I hope if you ever need something I can be there for you as well. To lighten the mood: let’s hope we don’t need to be here for each other after a worst-case scenario offseason! Pieces are moving and for all the rumors the Sabres are in on this guy and that guy there hasn’t been a lot to actually talk about. I guess we’ll see. It wouldn’t be fun if we knew the ending, eh? Let’s Go Buffalo!

Thanks for reading.

P.S. That Moritz Seider was shocked to go as high as he did. The gif of his reaction is some precious draft video for the ages.

[iwantthedean]

Take It All Back

Part Thirteen

Summary: Jensen wakes up from his black out, and asks Journey to tell him exactly what happened.  Pairing: Jensen x OFC (Journey) Word Count: 1900 Warnings: Hospital setting, conversation surrounding cheating and pregnancy loss.

Masterlist

Jovi had offered to stay with her sister at the hospital, but Journey insisted that Jovi get home to Nick and Blake.

“I’ll be fine, and I can tell you’re tired. Eight weeks more tired than I am,” Journey said with a small smile. The expression didn’t meet her eyes, but at least she was trying. “I’m sure the doctor will come out soon.”

Jovi thought it over, her lips pressed into a thin line. “All right, but only because I am that tired. Call me or Halen if you need us, all right?”

“I will. Thanks, Jov.”

Journey stood to hug her sister, the embrace not as fierce as either of them would have liked, what with two pregnant bellies between them. Journey watched her sister go, suddenly feeling more alone than she had in a long time.

An hour later, the doctor came out to the waiting room to greet her. She stood and shook hands with the doctor, who introduced himself as well.

“Dr. Robinson,” he said. “Mrs. Ackles, we believe your husband suffered a transient ischemic attack – that is, a mini-stroke.”

“A stroke?” Journey felt the color drain from her face. She sunk down into the chair she had been occupying while she waited for the tests to be run on her husband. “Jensen had a stroke?”

Dr. Robinson sat next to her. “Mrs. Ackles – Journey. Your husband is going to be just fine. I believe the TIA was brought on by extreme stress, and may not even be his first one. He’ll be tired and may be slightly out of it for a few days. The symptoms usually resolve within twenty-four hours, but I would like to keep him for a couple of days, for observation. He mentioned some recent forgetfulness …”

Journey nodded. “I thought he was playing off some personal things that had happened between the two of us.”

“It’s possible that this isn’t the first time he has had a stress-induced event like this one. I’m going to run more tests while Jensen is here with us. Take it easy, Journey, get some rest. We’ll get him up to a room soon.”

“Can I see him?”

The doctor nodded. “Of course. He’s still coming to a bit, but he’s been asking for you.”

Journey gathered her coat and bag and followed the doctor back to Jensen’s room. Journey was scared; she had no idea what Jensen would be like when she got to him – or in the coming days.

She wouldn’t leave now – she couldn’t. In truth, she felt awful, having accused him of cheating again. Jensen wasn’t playing dumb; he hadn’t been able to remember any of what happened before. Journey decided the only thing to do was stick to her vows – for better or worse, in sickness and health.

 That medicinal smell hit his nose and made him squint his eyes open. Jensen remembered all of the memories that had hit him, he remembered the pain that had come along with them, and he vaguely remembered hitting the floor. Everything after that was a blur of sirens and medical staff and tests.

He looked around, trying to take in all of the room. The monitors and wires all seemed to run to different places over his body. He was overwhelmed, by so many things.

“Hey, you.”

Journey stood in the doorway, giving him a watery, unsure smile. Jensen tried his best to smile back at her.

“Hey, beautiful.”

She walked slowly to his bedside, leaned over to kiss him, and laced her fingers through his. “I was so worried about you.”

“What happened?” Jensen asked.

Journey let go of his hand momentarily, pulling up a chair next to his bed before taking his hand again. “Dr. Robinson said that you had a mini-stroke. Said it was probably caused by stress, and might have happened before.”

“No,” Jensen said, shaking his head. “Before. What happened before? I know I did something horrible, Journ, and I’ve been trying to ignore the signs so I didn’t have to remember. I need you to tell me everything.”

“Jay, I don’t think that’s –”

“Please. Tell me how much I’ve hurt you.” Jensen didn’t want to hear it. In fact, at that moment, all he wanted was to go back to his real life, where he was with Macy, and Jared would give him shit all through the God-awful hangover which was no doubt waiting for him. This dream was turning into a nightmare, it seemed, and he wanted it to be over. He didn’t want to live in a world where he had done this horrible thing to Journey.

Journey took a deep breath and let go of his hand. “It started out small. You never left your phone laying out around me. I answered it once when your mother called, and I thought you were going to have a heart attack. Then it was all the telltale signs. You were working late, you took phone calls outside or locked in the bathroom. You just plain didn’t come home some nights.”

Jensen forced himself to breathe. He didn’t want another episode. He felt like he deserved the torture of hearing Journey say it all; he didn’t want the memories to just come to him. That seemed too easy compared to listening to her tell how he had hurt her.

“Finally, right after we found out I was pregnant for the first time, one of the players’ wives told me that her husband had gone to talk to you in your office, and you and Christina were in there – together. I’m sorry, I can’t bring myself to say it any other way.”

She was apologizing? Jensen’s heart was shattered for her. That he had betrayed his best friend, his wife, in such a horrible way … this thing that he had fought for so many weeks now, was coming out. He had done this. He had cheated on Journey. No wonder she had resorted to pushing him away so many times. She had no reason to trust him.

“I was ten weeks along when the two of you went on a business trip together. I should have just said something to you, Jay, but I was so angry, and so shocked at the same time. I didn’t know what else to do. I called the hotel and asked for your room, and Christina answered the phone. It was all these emotions at once, and I didn’t say anything to anyone else, I just got in the car and drove up there. I cried the entire four hours in the car. You called twice, and I didn’t even answer the phone.” She took a deep breath. Jensen reached out to wipe the tears from her face, but Journey ducked away. “Let me finish this. Please.”

“Okay.”

It took two more deep breaths before Journey could finish her story. “I found Christina first, and she tried to walk away from me. We ended up in the stairwell of the hotel, arguing. I called her every name in the book I think – not one of my finer moments. I pushed her first, in the middle of my ranting. She pushed me back, and I fell down the stairs.”

Jensen swallowed and turned to face the wall in front of him. “That’s how you lost the baby.”

Journey nodded. “Christina went away for a while, a forced leave from the team when they found out what had happened. I wouldn’t press charges, and I think maybe you had a hand in her not losing her job.”

“Another thing I’ll always regret.” Jensen’s throat felt so dry, he could hardly get the words out. Journey must have noticed because she got up to help him drink some of the flat soda the nurse had provided for him. “Journey, I feel like I’ve put you through an absolute nightmare in the last year. I can’t even ask you to forgive me – and then for my brain to just erase it …”

He had to stop there, take some deep breaths, and try to keep himself composed. Journey settled herself next to him on the bed, trying to keep her own tears under control.

“Jensen, it’s behind us. I never should have accused you of cheating again. After all we’ve been through, I know better now. I think I just – I know that I’m scared. I don’t want us to end up as far apart as we were before.”

Jensen pulled her close to him, setting his forehead against hers. “We won’t, babe. As long as I can help it, you and I will never be any sort of apart ever again.”

 The three days that Jensen was in the hospital, Journey never left his side. They’d had so many ups and downs the last year, and she refused to let him go through this alone.

Thanksgiving was coming up, and the football schedule would be slowing down soon. The Cowboys’ record was not going to allow them into the playoffs, so after post-season check-offs, Jensen would be home with her much more often. Journey liked having him around more, and missed him the week before Thanksgiving when he went back to work. He had finagled off for the week of Thanksgiving, thanks to the kindness of the rest of the training team.

She was closing in on her third trimester and happily posting the kind of pictures she used to hate seeing, even before she was pregnant: a selfie in the bathroom mirror proudly showing off her baby bump. She laughed every time Jensen called it that, since it was more than a bump by now.

Thanksgiving morning, she woke up with a sort of sad feeling. Jensen pushed her hair away from her face and asked what was on her mind.

“Abby. Her surgery is tomorrow morning.”

Jensen kissed her lightly. “Abby will be fine, babe. I know because she has you in her life.”

“Thanks, Jay.”

“I have a surprise for you. Will that cheer you up?”

Journey smiled and nodded. “I do love surprises.”

“I know,” Jensen laughed, reaching into his nightstand. “I read somewhere that I’m supposed to add a band to your wedding set when we start have kids. Well, actually, Jovi mentioned it and I searched it on the internet to make sure I wasn’t being punished, although I might deserve it if she was.”

Journey watched with awe as he opened the ring box, took out the shiny band, so similar to her wedding band already paired with her engagement ring, except with diamond chips set carefully into the band.

“These last several months have been like a dream, Journ. It’s like – like I was living this whole other life with someone else, and then I woke up with you. It’s hard to explain, but the point is, I woke up to a life that wasn’t ever what I imagined for us. And I’m so sorry that I’m the reason for that. This ring isn’t just for the baby. It’s my promise to you that I will never, never, hurt you again like I’ve done before.”

Journey waited for him to slide the ring on with her others, then pulled him into a fierce kiss. The worst was behind them, she knew, and they would always have each other, no matter what else happened.

[ozma914]

Resolved: No New Year's Resolutions

I don't do New Year's Resolutions, mostly because failing is a terrible way to start a new year. If you're going to make a major life change, it's usually best to do it gradually. A New Year's Resolution is like someone who never exercised deciding to run a marathon--tomorrow. Get healthy? Absolutely. Go cold turkey on cigarettes and snack food on January 2nd? Well, that's why violent incidents go up on January 3rd. Having said that, for some people stopping all at once is the only way to accomplish something, and I'm all for accomplishing something. That being the case, if you want to make a resolution and be serious about it, more power to you. Just remember, the proper response to nicotine withdrawal is not second degree murder. Not even third degree. Well, maybe third. For me, the best time of the year to make life changes is spring. Why? Because in spring, I care about life. In January, all I care about is turning the oven on low, wrapping myself in a blanket, and climbing inside. It's the only place I can get warm. I really don't care what's happening elsewhere, and I wouldn't go out at all if I didn't need to make money to pay the gas bill. If I did make a New Year's Resolution, it would be to fill up the Ford's fuel tank and just Escape south until I drive into salt water.

Okay, I've got the dog, the wife, and my best Bermuda shorts: Gulf of Mexico, here we come! But spring ... I could do spring. Things are looking up. Green stuff starts appearing. There's sun, except during basketball playoffs, when for some reason there's always ice. What's up with that? Why is Hoosier Hysteria always accompanied by "Midwest ice storm--film at eleven"? Sure, sometimes I go out into an April sleet storm, but generally things are looking up. Sometimes the snowpile at the end of the Wal-Mart parking lot even melts away by Independence Day. I'll walk out the door on March 21st and say, "Now I want to lose weight and give up Mountain Dew! I'll start tomorrow." I gave up drinking after my 21st birthday party, which they tell me was a blast. I never did smoke; but with my addictive personality, if I started they'd have to bury me with both hands clutching a pack of ... I don't know, what brands of cigarettes are they still selling these days? I can't imagine walking a mile for a Camel. Maybe that's the thing about the New Year: I never got addicted to making resolutions. But hey--there's time for me yet.

"What's this crap?"

The only real resolution I have for this year--which I sincerely hope is better than last year--is to keep on writing. My plan for 2019 is to publish two new books (at least--we'll see) and write at least one other new one. That, and continuing the submission process for some already-written manuscripts, should be enough to keep me out of trouble. And promotion. *sigh* (Speaking of promotion, don't forget to check us out at www.markrhunter.com, or see links to all our books at this post:  https://markrhunter.blogspot.com/2018/12/coming-attractions-is-e-booking-all.html ... Happy New Year!

[flauntpage]

DGB Grab Bag: More Goalie Interference, Absurdist Hart Trophy Debates, and Dress Shirts

Three Stars of Comedy

The third star: Tuukka Rask – I'm not 100 percent sure why this GIF makes me laugh, but here we are.

Congratulations to Rask on the first moment in his NHL career when he wasn't the most out-of-control person on the ice.

The second star: Mark Scheifele – The NHL waded back into the "how to button a shirt debate" this week, and the results were reasonably fun. But the real punchline comes at the end, when we find out the Scheifele is a freaking psychopath.

Between this and Patrik Laine's beard I'm genuinely concerned that eight months without sunlight is making all the Jets players insane.

The first star: Predators fans – If we have to deal with lengthy, annoying, ineffective video replay reviews, at least we should have some fun with them.

Of course, if the review doesn't end the way you'd like, you'll have to find a different way to express yourself.

Debating the Issues

This week’s debate: As the season comes down to its final weekend, the race for the Hart Trophy still seems too close to call. Connor McDavid may be the league's best player, but with his team well out of the playoff hunt, should the MVP honors go to someone like Taylor Hall or Nathan MacKinnon instead?

In favor: Yes, absolutely. There's a reason the Hart Trophy description mentions the player who is "most valuable to his team," and not just the "best player." There's clearly an implied suggestion to factor team results into the voting. McDavid's great, but his team is terrible.

Opposed: That's one way to read the award's wording, sure. But it doesn't really fit with the history. The Hart Trophy has almost always gone to the player who had the best season. And with all due respect to Hall and MacKinnon, this year that's McDavid.

In favor: Well, hold on. A player hasn't won the Hart Trophy on a team that missed the playoffs since Mario Lemieux in 1988, and his team only missed by one point.

Opposed: Sure, but that was back when 16 teams out of 21 made it in. In an era in which half the league doesn't make it, ruling out any player who just misses seems silly.

In favor: But this year's Oilers aren't going to just miss. They're terrible. What value could McDavid have a really represented?

Opposed: The value of being the league's best and most productive player!

In favor: Right, but it's not like he lapped the field. He wasn't that far ahead of Hall or MacKinnon.

Flyers fan: Or Claude Giroux.

In favor: Right, or… wait, who are you?

Flyers fan: I'm the guy who shows up in all these debates to mention Claude Giroux.

Opposed: You think Claude Giroux should win this year's Hart Trophy?

Flyers fan: Not necessarily win it, no. But he definitely deserves to be in the conversation.

In favor: OK, fair enough. But right now we're talking about who should win, so maybe you could…

Kings fan: Anze Kopitar deserves some love too.

In favor: Guys, please, we're trying to keep this manageable so if you could…

Penguins fan: Also Evgeni Malkin.

Lightning fan: Nikita Kucherov has to be in there somewhere too.

Opposed: Yeah, sure, those guys are all very good, but none of them are going to win. So maybe we can just focus on…

Jets fan: Blake Wheeler deserves some votes too, you guys.

In favor: You think Blake Wheeler was the league's most valuable player?

Jets fan: No, of course not.

In favor: OK, good, because that would be completely…

Jets fan: He just needs to be somewhere on your ballot.

Opposed: I'm not sure he does.

Bruins fan: So does Brad Marchand.

In favor: Look, I hate to break it to you but…

Panthers fan: Hello, I'm here to talk to you about Aleksander Barkov.

Opposed: On what possible planet is Aleksander Barkov going to win the Hart Trophy?

Panthers fan: I'm not saying he should win, but you could have him in your top five.

In favor: Look, everyone shut up. This is getting ridiculous. This year's Hart Trophy winner is going to be Connor McDavid, Taylor Hall or Nathan MacKinnon. And I don't know if you've noticed, but the hockey world is basically this close to all-out civil war over just those three guys. We get that you like your favorite player and want to see him recognized, but this is not the time. We are all a little on edge right now, and we'd just like to get through the last few days without having to hear your sales pitch for every fringe candidate in the league that even you don't think should actually win.

Opposed: You OK man?

In favor: Yeah, I'm good. This has all been kind of stressful and I had to get that off my chest. I'm fine now.

Blue Jackets fan: Hey, sorry I'm late, but I would like to talk about why Sergei Bobrovsky deserves your fifth-place vote…

In favor: I WILL STAB YOU IN THE EYE WITH MY VOTING PENCIL.

The final verdict: Seriously, if you all keep nagging us to try to get your guy to finish seventh instead of eighth we're all just going to vote for Auston Matthews out of spite.

Obscure Former Player of the Week

The Devils are headed back to the playoffs for the first time in six years, clinching a spot thanks to last night's win in Toronto. That's a surprise given where they finished last year. But it's not as big a shock to see the Devils in the postseason as it was 30 years ago, when the 1987-88 Devils made a frantic late run to qualify for the first time in franchise history.

That was a fun team that's shown up periodically in this column, including Doug Brown's soap opera romance. The roster also featured a rookie Brendan Shanahan, current Golden Knights' GM George McPhee, and 13 games of Sean Burke that were enough to earn him a Hart Trophy vote. So today, let's bestow obscure player honors on another member of the 1987-88 Devils squad: Jim Korn.

Korn was a tough-nosed defenseman who was picked in the fifth round of the 1977 draft by the Red Wings, one pick after future Olympic hero Jim Craig went to Atlanta. He debuted in Detroit in 1979 and was traded to Toronto in 1982 for two draft picks. That ended up being one of the toughest trades of all time, as the two picks ended up being used on Craig Coxe and Joey Kocur.

Korn spent three full years in Toronto, highlighted by a controversial incident in 1984 when he hammered former Leafs star Darryl Sittler, breaking his cheekbone. Korn missed the entire 1985-86 season to injury, was traded to the Sabres, and was dealt to New Jersey in time for that magical 1987-88 season, spending most of his Devils career as a winger (and often rooming with Shanahan) before finishing his career with nine games in Calgary. In all, he played 597 NHL games, scoring 66 goals and racking up 1,801 PIM.

Here he is as a Devil in 1990, living out every player's dream: Getting his hands on a lippy Maple Leafs fan.

The NHL Actually Got Something Right

There was yet another goaltending interference controversy this week, this one involving the Predators and Panthers (and by extension, the Devils and Flyers). People were mad. And not just regular people the league can ignore, but famous ones too.

Should they have been? Maybe, although it was nowhere as clear cut as many are pretending. We covered this on this week's podcast; I think there was fairly obvious interference on the play, although you could make a case that it didn't rise to the level of overturning the call on the ice. In the bigger picture, there's no way to stop this from happening, no matter how much we all wail about consistency. Interference should never have been subject to review, and the only way to fix it now is to get rid of it entirely.

None of this is new, and the whole topic has been beaten into the ground over the last few months. But this week, something subtle did change, and it's worth a quick mention.

Did you catch it? The NHL didn't just cut-and-paste their standard non-explanation about how the play was reviewed and the officials determined that interference occurred. Instead, they gave us a little bit of detail.

It was only a little, and nowhere near enough—we need video explanations of these calls, just like we get for suspensions. But even a few extra words helped steer the conversation, and at least let us know what it was that the league war room saw. And just in case you thought that might be a one-off, it turns out the league has been doing it all week.

Again, fans deserve more than this, and there's still no excuse for not having the referees on the ice briefly walk through the reasoning on game-altering calls. But fair's fair. We've been asking for more detailed explanation on replay review for over a year; now we're seeing some baby steps in that direction. That’s worth something.

Classic YouTube Clip Breakdown

Henrik and Daniel Sedin announced their retirements this week. They said an emotional farewell to Vancouver last night, and will play their final game tomorrow night in Edmonton. That will spell the end of two remarkable careers—identical twin brothers who were drafted together and played virtually their entire careers side-by-side, with each winning a scoring title.

So today, as we prepare for the end, let's look back at the beginning, with a trip back to the 1999 entry draft.

It's June 26, 1999, and the draft is coming to you from Boston. Our host, appropriately enough, is Jim Hughson, who's about to join the Canucks broadcast team and will go on to become the voice of Hockey Night in Canada in a few years. He's going to mention these Sedin kids once or twice more over the course of his career, I'm guessing.

But that's getting ahead of ourselves. As our clip begins, there's still at least a little mystery hanging over the proceedings. Brian Burke and the Canucks have been hard at work trying to put together a series of trades to get both twins, but nothing is official yet. Well, it probably is, but we don't know that because this is before Twitter ruined our ability to ever be surprised by anything.

Burke has taken plenty of heat over the years, much of it deserved, but man that guy could work a trade. I'm honestly not sure there's been a better GM at pulling off deals since Sam Pollock. Check out the beginning of this clip, where we see some brief footage of Burke swinging the deals on the draft floor. He's just standing there with multiple other NHL GMs and telling them what they're going to do and who they're going to pick. It's half negotiation, half hostage situation, and I love every second of it. Someone please make Burke a GM again somewhere.

Gary Bettman takes the stage to only light booing because Boston isn't a real hockey town. He drops a "We have three trades to announce" on the crowd, which gets their attention, and then lays out all the deals. He stumbles through the details, but recovers nicely and concludes with a "What that all means" summary. Bottom line: Atlanta moves up to No. 1, the Canucks get the next two picks, and Tampa picks fourth.

And with that, the Thrashers take the stage to announce the first overall pick. What could go wrong?

Oh right, they take Patrik Stefan. We don't actually get to see the pick in this clip, presumably because it would violate YouTube's guidelines for obscene content. But it's fair to say Stefan was quite possibly the biggest bust of any first overall pick ever. Some of that was injury-related, but when you go first overall and the only thing anyone remembers about you is this, that's not good.

A reminder: that Stefan blooper ended up costing the Oilers Patrick Kane. That franchise might literally be cursed.

How great would it have been if the Thrashers had double-crossed Burke right here and used the first overall pick on a Sedin? What would have happened? I mean, we can all agree that Burke would have immediately rushed the stage and fought everyone in the Atlanta front office until the national guard arrived to pull him off the bodies, but what about after that? This has to be a top-ten "what if?" moment in modern NHL history and I feel like we don't talk about it enough.

We skip ahead to the Canucks picks. I love the "Team Needs" screen, which informs us that Vancouver needs offense, defense and goaltending. Other than that, they're all set.

Burke heads to the stage and picks both twins at the same time. He doesn't even pause, he just takes them as one unit. But he says Daniel's name first, which is why he went into the history books as the second overall pick and Henrik was third. You know Burke toyed with just saying "The Sedin twins" just to annoy the pedants.

This is the only known instance of anyone in Boston applauding the Sedins for anything that didn't end with them looking around for a referee while a Bruin repeatedly uppercut them in the throat.

You get a bit of a sense of it as the commentators discuss the picks, but back then there really was a sense that only Daniel was going to be a star, while Henrik was a tier below. I'd offer that as a reminder that draft experts don't know anything, but we just saw Patrik Stefan go first overall so I'm guessing the point has been made.

We get a few words from the Sedins and a few more from Burke, who does his patented "credit the GM I just blatantly ripped off for driving a hard bargain" routine. Brian Burke was the best. Are we sure he can't be the GM of the new Seattle team?

With that, we skip ahead to all the other good picks in the first round, which is to say our clip ends. Good lord that was a terrible draft. Seriously, the only decent non-Sedin in the entire first round was Martin Havlat. The fourth overall pick was another huge bust, Pavel Brendl. The sixth overall pick was a goalie who never won a game. By the 15th overall pick we'd reached the guys who never made the NHL at all. Three of the draft's top five players in terms of NHL games played were picked in the seventh round. What a mess.

And that's it. Roughly 19 years and 2,600 regular seasons games later, the Sedins will wrap things up tomorrow. They'll go into the history books ranked fifth and sixth among players who spent their entire career in one city, trailing only Nicklas Lidstrom, Alex Delvecchio, Steve Yzerman and Stan Mikita. Three years from now, they'll join those four guys in the Hall of Fame.

Patrik Stefan will probably not.

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: More Goalie Interference, Absurdist Hart Trophy Debates, and Dress Shirts published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

[amtushinfosolutionspage]

DGB Grab Bag: More Goalie Interference, Absurdist Hart Trophy Debates, and Dress Shirts

Three Stars of Comedy

The third star: Tuukka Rask – I’m not 100 percent sure why this GIF makes me laugh, but here we are.

Congratulations to Rask on the first moment in his NHL career when he wasn’t the most out-of-control person on the ice.

The second star: Mark Scheifele – The NHL waded back into the “how to button a shirt debate” this week, and the results were reasonably fun. But the real punchline comes at the end, when we find out the Scheifele is a freaking psychopath.

Between this and Patrik Laine’s beard I’m genuinely concerned that eight months without sunlight is making all the Jets players insane.

The first star: Predators fans – If we have to deal with lengthy, annoying, ineffective video replay reviews, at least we should have some fun with them.

Of course, if the review doesn’t end the way you’d like, you’ll have to find a different way to express yourself.

Debating the Issues

This week’s debate: As the season comes down to its final weekend, the race for the Hart Trophy still seems too close to call. Connor McDavid may be the league’s best player, but with his team well out of the playoff hunt, should the MVP honors go to someone like Taylor Hall or Nathan MacKinnon instead?

In favor: Yes, absolutely. There’s a reason the Hart Trophy description mentions the player who is “most valuable to his team,” and not just the “best player.” There’s clearly an implied suggestion to factor team results into the voting. McDavid’s great, but his team is terrible.

Opposed: That’s one way to read the award’s wording, sure. But it doesn’t really fit with the history. The Hart Trophy has almost always gone to the player who had the best season. And with all due respect to Hall and MacKinnon, this year that’s McDavid.

In favor: Well, hold on. A player hasn’t won the Hart Trophy on a team that missed the playoffs since Mario Lemieux in 1988, and his team only missed by one point.

Opposed: Sure, but that was back when 16 teams out of 21 made it in. In an era in which half the league doesn’t make it, ruling out any player who just misses seems silly.

In favor: But this year’s Oilers aren’t going to just miss. They’re terrible. What value could McDavid have a really represented?

Opposed: The value of being the league’s best and most productive player!

In favor: Right, but it’s not like he lapped the field. He wasn’t that far ahead of Hall or MacKinnon.

Flyers fan: Or Claude Giroux.

In favor: Right, or… wait, who are you?

Flyers fan: I’m the guy who shows up in all these debates to mention Claude Giroux.

Opposed: You think Claude Giroux should win this year’s Hart Trophy?

Flyers fan: Not necessarily win it, no. But he definitely deserves to be in the conversation.

In favor: OK, fair enough. But right now we’re talking about who should win, so maybe you could…

Kings fan: Anze Kopitar deserves some love too.

In favor: Guys, please, we’re trying to keep this manageable so if you could…

Penguins fan: Also Evgeni Malkin.

Lightning fan: Nikita Kucherov has to be in there somewhere too.

Opposed: Yeah, sure, those guys are all very good, but none of them are going to win. So maybe we can just focus on…

Jets fan: Blake Wheeler deserves some votes too, you guys.

In favor: You think Blake Wheeler was the league’s most valuable player?

Jets fan: No, of course not.

In favor: OK, good, because that would be completely…

Jets fan: He just needs to be somewhere on your ballot.

Opposed: I’m not sure he does.

Bruins fan: So does Brad Marchand.

In favor: Look, I hate to break it to you but…

Panthers fan: Hello, I’m here to talk to you about Aleksander Barkov.

Opposed: On what possible planet is Aleksander Barkov going to win the Hart Trophy?

Panthers fan: I’m not saying he should win, but you could have him in your top five.

In favor: Look, everyone shut up. This is getting ridiculous. This year’s Hart Trophy winner is going to be Connor McDavid, Taylor Hall or Nathan MacKinnon. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the hockey world is basically this close to all-out civil war over just those three guys. We get that you like your favorite player and want to see him recognized, but this is not the time. We are all a little on edge right now, and we’d just like to get through the last few days without having to hear your sales pitch for every fringe candidate in the league that even you don’t think should actually win.

Opposed: You OK man?

In favor: Yeah, I’m good. This has all been kind of stressful and I had to get that off my chest. I’m fine now.

Blue Jackets fan: Hey, sorry I’m late, but I would like to talk about why Sergei Bobrovsky deserves your fifth-place vote…

In favor: I WILL STAB YOU IN THE EYE WITH MY VOTING PENCIL.

The final verdict: Seriously, if you all keep nagging us to try to get your guy to finish seventh instead of eighth we’re all just going to vote for Auston Matthews out of spite.

Obscure Former Player of the Week

The Devils are headed back to the playoffs for the first time in six years, clinching a spot thanks to last night’s win in Toronto. That’s a surprise given where they finished last year. But it’s not as big a shock to see the Devils in the postseason as it was 30 years ago, when the 1987-88 Devils made a frantic late run to qualify for the first time in franchise history.

That was a fun team that’s shown up periodically in this column, including Doug Brown’s soap opera romance. The roster also featured a rookie Brendan Shanahan, current Golden Knights’ GM George McPhee, and 13 games of Sean Burke that were enough to earn him a Hart Trophy vote. So today, let’s bestow obscure player honors on another member of the 1987-88 Devils squad: Jim Korn.

Korn was a tough-nosed defenseman who was picked in the fifth round of the 1977 draft by the Red Wings, one pick after future Olympic hero Jim Craig went to Atlanta. He debuted in Detroit in 1979 and was traded to Toronto in 1982 for two draft picks. That ended up being one of the toughest trades of all time, as the two picks ended up being used on Craig Coxe and Joey Kocur.

Korn spent three full years in Toronto, highlighted by a controversial incident in 1984 when he hammered former Leafs star Darryl Sittler, breaking his cheekbone. Korn missed the entire 1985-86 season to injury, was traded to the Sabres, and was dealt to New Jersey in time for that magical 1987-88 season, spending most of his Devils career as a winger (and often rooming with Shanahan) before finishing his career with nine games in Calgary. In all, he played 597 NHL games, scoring 66 goals and racking up 1,801 PIM.

Here he is as a Devil in 1990, living out every player’s dream: Getting his hands on a lippy Maple Leafs fan.

The NHL Actually Got Something Right

There was yet another goaltending interference controversy this week, this one involving the Predators and Panthers (and by extension, the Devils and Flyers). People were mad. And not just regular people the league can ignore, but famous ones too.

Should they have been? Maybe, although it was nowhere as clear cut as many are pretending. We covered this on this week’s podcast; I think there was fairly obvious interference on the play, although you could make a case that it didn’t rise to the level of overturning the call on the ice. In the bigger picture, there’s no way to stop this from happening, no matter how much we all wail about consistency. Interference should never have been subject to review, and the only way to fix it now is to get rid of it entirely.

None of this is new, and the whole topic has been beaten into the ground over the last few months. But this week, something subtle did change, and it’s worth a quick mention.

Did you catch it? The NHL didn’t just cut-and-paste their standard non-explanation about how the play was reviewed and the officials determined that interference occurred. Instead, they gave us a little bit of detail.

It was only a little, and nowhere near enough—we need video explanations of these calls, just like we get for suspensions. But even a few extra words helped steer the conversation, and at least let us know what it was that the league war room saw. And just in case you thought that might be a one-off, it turns out the league has been doing it all week.

Again, fans deserve more than this, and there’s still no excuse for not having the referees on the ice briefly walk through the reasoning on game-altering calls. But fair’s fair. We’ve been asking for more detailed explanation on replay review for over a year; now we’re seeing some baby steps in that direction. That’s worth something.

Classic YouTube Clip Breakdown

Henrik and Daniel Sedin announced their retirements this week. They said an emotional farewell to Vancouver last night, and will play their final game tomorrow night in Edmonton. That will spell the end of two remarkable careers—identical twin brothers who were drafted together and played virtually their entire careers side-by-side, with each winning a scoring title.

So today, as we prepare for the end, let’s look back at the beginning, with a trip back to the 1999 entry draft.

It’s June 26, 1999, and the draft is coming to you from Boston. Our host, appropriately enough, is Jim Hughson, who’s about to join the Canucks broadcast team and will go on to become the voice of Hockey Night in Canada in a few years. He’s going to mention these Sedin kids once or twice more over the course of his career, I’m guessing.

But that’s getting ahead of ourselves. As our clip begins, there’s still at least a little mystery hanging over the proceedings. Brian Burke and the Canucks have been hard at work trying to put together a series of trades to get both twins, but nothing is official yet. Well, it probably is, but we don’t know that because this is before Twitter ruined our ability to ever be surprised by anything.

Burke has taken plenty of heat over the years, much of it deserved, but man that guy could work a trade. I’m honestly not sure there’s been a better GM at pulling off deals since Sam Pollock. Check out the beginning of this clip, where we see some brief footage of Burke swinging the deals on the draft floor. He’s just standing there with multiple other NHL GMs and telling them what they’re going to do and who they’re going to pick. It’s half negotiation, half hostage situation, and I love every second of it. Someone please make Burke a GM again somewhere.

Gary Bettman takes the stage to only light booing because Boston isn’t a real hockey town. He drops a “We have three trades to announce” on the crowd, which gets their attention, and then lays out all the deals. He stumbles through the details, but recovers nicely and concludes with a “What that all means” summary. Bottom line: Atlanta moves up to No. 1, the Canucks get the next two picks, and Tampa picks fourth.

And with that, the Thrashers take the stage to announce the first overall pick. What could go wrong?

Oh right, they take Patrik Stefan. We don’t actually get to see the pick in this clip, presumably because it would violate YouTube’s guidelines for obscene content. But it’s fair to say Stefan was quite possibly the biggest bust of any first overall pick ever. Some of that was injury-related, but when you go first overall and the only thing anyone remembers about you is this, that’s not good.

A reminder: that Stefan blooper ended up costing the Oilers Patrick Kane. That franchise might literally be cursed.

How great would it have been if the Thrashers had double-crossed Burke right here and used the first overall pick on a Sedin? What would have happened? I mean, we can all agree that Burke would have immediately rushed the stage and fought everyone in the Atlanta front office until the national guard arrived to pull him off the bodies, but what about after that? This has to be a top-ten “what if?” moment in modern NHL history and I feel like we don’t talk about it enough.

We skip ahead to the Canucks picks. I love the “Team Needs” screen, which informs us that Vancouver needs offense, defense and goaltending. Other than that, they’re all set.

Burke heads to the stage and picks both twins at the same time. He doesn’t even pause, he just takes them as one unit. But he says Daniel’s name first, which is why he went into the history books as the second overall pick and Henrik was third. You know Burke toyed with just saying “The Sedin twins” just to annoy the pedants.

This is the only known instance of anyone in Boston applauding the Sedins for anything that didn’t end with them looking around for a referee while a Bruin repeatedly uppercut them in the throat.

You get a bit of a sense of it as the commentators discuss the picks, but back then there really was a sense that only Daniel was going to be a star, while Henrik was a tier below. I’d offer that as a reminder that draft experts don’t know anything, but we just saw Patrik Stefan go first overall so I’m guessing the point has been made.

We get a few words from the Sedins and a few more from Burke, who does his patented “credit the GM I just blatantly ripped off for driving a hard bargain” routine. Brian Burke was the best. Are we sure he can’t be the GM of the new Seattle team?

With that, we skip ahead to all the other good picks in the first round, which is to say our clip ends. Good lord that was a terrible draft. Seriously, the only decent non-Sedin in the entire first round was Martin Havlat. The fourth overall pick was another huge bust, Pavel Brendl. The sixth overall pick was a goalie who never won a game. By the 15th overall pick we’d reached the guys who never made the NHL at all. Three of the draft’s top five players in terms of NHL games played were picked in the seventh round. What a mess.

And that’s it. Roughly 19 years and 2,600 regular seasons games later, the Sedins will wrap things up tomorrow. They’ll go into the history books ranked fifth and sixth among players who spent their entire career in one city, trailing only Nicklas Lidstrom, Alex Delvecchio, Steve Yzerman and Stan Mikita. Three years from now, they’ll join those four guys in the Hall of Fame.

Patrik Stefan will probably not.

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: More Goalie Interference, Absurdist Hart Trophy Debates, and Dress Shirts syndicated from https://australiahoverboards.wordpress.com

[yahoo-puck-daddy-blog]

Puck Daddy Countdown: Time to lay off the juniors

Lias Andersson knows that if you’re not first you’re last. (Getty Images)

8. Saying Winnipeg is a cold, dark place that no one in the league likes to go to

Have you heard, folks? It is not fun to go to Winnipeg in January, but it’s even less fun to say that!

Where would anyone get the idea that Winnipeg is dark and cold in January? I mean, its average temperature in January is a balmy 4 degrees (minus-16 centigrade) and you get a beautiful, wonderful, eight and a half hours of sunlight every day!

I recently read something about how half of Canadians suffer from some amount of seasonal affective disorder and I gotta tell ya: If the number isn’t 100 in Winnipeg, it really ought to be.

But you can’t actually say that or a bunch of really dumb people are like, “Uhh actually we have nice restaurants.” They do, from what I understand, and it’s easy to get the whole “civic pride” factor here. But do you know where else they have nice restaurants? Everywhere. And know what everywhere doesn’t have? A winter climate reminiscent of John Carpenter’s “The Thing.”

I have to imagine this is a “no one beats up my little brother but me” thing, because no one in Winnipeg is walking around like a minus-10 Tuesday where it’s only light out while everyone is at work thinking that’s, y’know, desirable.

But still, the Sharks video was very clearly just In Fun and anyone who was actually offended by this numbers in the single digits.

We all know this.

7. Being Cody Franson

Cody Franson being put on and subsequently clearing waivers highlights what we can now refer to safely as the Arcobello/Franson Corollary, which is to say that there are always going to be guys whose underlying numbers are very good — albeit against low-level competition — and whom internet statsmen lose their crap over, but whom NHL decision-makers just don’t care about.

The thing you have to understand about Franson is that he’s probably a pretty good third-pair guy but some people want him to be more than that and the people controlling the levers of power in this league are skeptical that he’s even that much of a player.

It creates an interesting dynamic of incredulity at how little he’s valued among one party, and dismissal of literally anything he provides if he screws up one (1) time.

The stat I saw was that Franson has played the majority of his minutes with Duncan Keith and they’ve dummied the competition (56-plus percent in just about every underlying category) but been outscored 8-3. Their on-ice PDO together? Buddy, it’s 93.7.

 Meanwhile, the underlyings are so good that online people are flipping out. Overall, his value is probably somewhere in the middle, which is to say that, again, he probably helps most teams’ bottom pairs but if you want him to do more than that, there’s a good chance you’re gonna get burned on it.

So I have a marketing pitch for players like this going forward:

“Cody Franson: He’s alright and that’s probably it!”

6. Being Brent Seabrook

In addition to Franson being waived, the other big funny thing that happened this week for Chicago’s blue line is that Brent Seabrook got healthy-scratched. Have a look at the numbers at any point in the past two seasons, and you’ll go “Ah yeah, that makes sense.”

What’s funny is this has been his best season, in a lot of ways, since 2015, but the idea that an old-ass defenseman who’s played a ton of games (almost 1,100 between the regular season and playoffs) and hasn’t been good for a few years needs to be healthy-scratched now? Yeah, it’s two years too late. Does Seabrook need to be better? Sure. Will he be? Probably not. Chicago’s married to this guy for SIX more years and it’s like, “Buddy, are you a mid-’90s hardcore comp? Because Tomorrow Will Be Worse.”

So if Quenneville is disappointed with his play now, why wasn’t he in 2015-16, or 2016-17? Because Chicago was winning and he was a Core Guy. Now Chicago isn’t winning and the answers aren’t in that room, and oh jeez, we’re making what people are framing panic decisions. Despite the fact that they shouldn’t surprise literally anyone, including the player himself.

Hilarious.

5. Being an Oilers fan

I love that Peter Chiarelli went out there this week and was like, “I’m not gonna fire the coach,” and everyone looked around like “We didn’t think you were.”

Because obviously, as multiple people have pointed out this week, wow the roster isn’t good enough. Who could have seen this coming? Everyone but Peter Chiarelli. Let’s put it this way: When the entire — ENTIRE! — Edmonton media says the GM needs to go, that’s monumental.

But I can’t help think of the poor Oilers fans who were promised so much this season and are instead now saying to themselves, “Maybe we’re gonna get Dahlin.” Ahhh, sweetie, you don’t deserve this.

4. Being Marc Bergevin

Speaking of delusional GMs, Bergevin trying to get help for this team seems like a not-great idea. The kind of idea that, I don’t know, ends up getting a GM fired?

The fact that we’re probably going to have not one but TWO mid-season GM firings before any single coach gets canned is pretty incredible. I bet that’s never happened before.

3. Mid-season awards candidates

All those guys are gonna shoot 26 percent forever!

2. Travis Dermott

New Toronto Media Darling Travis Dermott got the call-up this week and is already earning his keep after scoring 17 points in 26 games from the blue line. And if the Toronto media is talking good about you, that means you’re going to cash in when it’s time for your next contract.

Problem is: Dermott is in Year 1 of his ELC. Well, just keep scoring, kid.

It’s only been 28 minutes over two games but the numbers are unreal and he’s not exactly playing the stiffs on the other team, either. Plus he’s getting power play time already. Like three more good games, max, and Mike Babcock might turn this kid loose.

The sky really does seem to be the limit on him right now, and if he shores up the Leafs D to the point that they’re Cup competitive — i.e. if he’s a top-four defenseman in his first year as an NHLer — then this kid is gonna get paaaaaaid…….. in three years.

1. Lias Andersson is my special boy

Second place is the first loser and Lias Andersson understands that better than anyone. Anyone who was mad at him is a crybaby.

But hey, the media really wants to be able to wail on children who displease them, which is why that picture of all the Canadian kids on their phones after winning gold was such a clicks-getter. “Can you believe these millennials ha ha ha!” Well first of all, kids born after 1995 aren’t millennials.

Second, yeah, imagine that, they want to be on their phones. But what if, and I know this is some truly twisted, stretched logic here, but what if they wanted to talk to their grammy and grampy and friends back home about how they just achieved this great thing. If they had cell phones in the 1985 Oilers’ locker room, do you think Jarri Kurri isn’t getting at someone halfway around the world about it? Think Gretzky isn’t texting his dad? Get outta here.

(Not ranked this week: Pulling a guy’s beard hairs out.

On the one hand: Gross and painful. Don’t do this to people!

On the other hand: It’s like that football thing, where anything a guy can grab is considered part of the uniform and totally fair game. So if you don’t want to lose some beard hairs in a fight, don’t get in a fight when you have a big long beard that frankly was getting pretty gross.)

Ryan Lambert is a Puck Daddy columnist. His email is here and his Twitter is here.

(All statistics via Corsica unless otherwise noted.)

[bundeslihaha]

Chapter 12: The Second Conference Call

May 16, 2015. Before Matchday 34, Darmstadt, Karlsruhe, and Kaiserslautern wanted to calm their nerves – what’s a better way to do that than a video conference? (Slightly NSFW.)

Karlsruhe, Baden-Württemberg

22:30

“…Bye, Hertha,” Karlsruher SC ended their three-hour conversation, flashing his girlfriend a last smile, “see you in the Bundesliga next season!”

“I’ll be waiting,” Hertha Berlin crooned, a pale hand caressing her webcam. Karlsruhe imagined her soft touch on his body, the feeling of her by his side sending warmth all over him. Ah, if only she could actually be here, showering each other with love with nothing but their bare skin to separate their souls…

“Hey,” she gently brought him back to reality, “we can do it after the playoff, dear.”

A blush, subtle and pleasant, bloomed on the Badener’s cheeks. “Of course, love, of course.”

“Well, now that’s settled… good night,” she chuckled, her melodious voice only serving to make him miss her more. “Don’t forget to wear some clothes!”

Karlsruhe smirked at her lack of undergarments. “You too, Hertha.”

"Sure, Kalle,” Hertha replied with a wink. “I’m going to disconnect, okay?”

“Me too,” he returned her wink, “Sweet dreams!”

“I’ll be dreaming of your promotion,”

And she went offline.

Karlsruhe sighed, leaning back on his pillows with his laptop half-closed. Talking to her made him feel calm, confident, invincible. Sechzig was desperate to escape relegation, but he had a much better team… and of course, an endless desire to return to where he belonged: in the first tier, going for Europe and meeting his lover on matchdays. As if preventing him from dreaming before he fell asleep, a ‘ping’ cut his train of thoughts.

You have a new message!

The 1894-born club reopened his laptop, expecting a Hertha who didn’t want to sleep, but found this instead:

  WasZumRoteTeufel invited you to a conference call!

WasZumRoteTeufel and lilien98 are online. Accept/decline?

Karlsruhe clicked his tongue in annoyance; the invitation brought back his nerves, the uneasy feeling in his limbs that prompted him to move to a position where his feet dangled off the edge of his bed, so he could, maybe swing them, quickly and both feet at a time, anything to get rid of the anxiety buzzing in his head, whispering ‘fourth place’ and other unthinkable things…

Another ‘ping’.You have a new message!

With the thought of ‘I’ll regret this later’, he read the personal message.

  WasZumRoteTeufel: Yo Karli! You in or not, chicken? :p

KSC_Aufstieg2k15: of course, just haven’t said yes, he typed. Then, he switched to the notifications tab to accept the invitation. But before the webcam was fully loaded, Kaiserslautern had replied,

WasZumRoteTeufel: Well come on! We’re waiting ;)

  With a ghost of a smirk, Karlsruhe moved to the menu he’d opened. Fortunately, it had finished loading, so he put his headphones back on…

Kaiserslautern, Rhineland-Palatinate

22:06

 1. FC Kaiserslautern made sure his wireless headphones were connected to his laptop, a devilish smile adorning his sweaty face... until he felt the heat radiating from his electronic devices turn his innocent summer sweat into cooking oil.

"ARGH!" he groaned, throwing off his damp t-shirt in disgust, "Why the fuck can't the AC be cooler?!"

His landlady's screech could be heard from the door, but the personification didn't give a damn - while Karlsruhe's screen was still loading, Darmstadt was staring dumbly at his abs, he assumed, abs that were broad and muscular and glistening with sweat. His smile widened.

"Hey, 'Lautern," the promotion club called, smiling coyly. "Looking good!”

Kaiserslautern fanned himself with his mousepad. "Thanks, Lilien. Aren't you hot in that, though?" He raised a red eyebrow at her spaghetti strap.

"What kind of 'hot' are you talking about here?" she giggled, propping her face on her knuckles. "If it's that kind of hot, well..." She made a half-smile, half-pout the Red Devils thought only women could do, twirling a strand of her blond hair, "isn't it your expertise as the ruler of hell?"

Lautern laughed, the loud cackle inviting angry knocks from his neighbors. "Of course, my little lily!" He winked, flexing his muscles for her webcam to savor. "How about I take off my pants, too?"

Darmstadt’s face turned redder than his hair.

“I’ll take that as a yes!”

And so, 1. FC Kaiserslautern, Bundesligist-to-be, freed his body of its trappings.

"AAAAAAAHHHHHH!" another voice, usually low-pitched but was now rising to operatic proportions, "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, DUMBASS?!"

The redhead pushed his laptop's monitor towards his lower body parts. A suspicious moan could be heard from Darmstadt's side, but Karlsruhe's (who'd finally finished loading!) made a slamming sound as if he just shut his laptop or punched its keyboard.

"Okay, okay", Lautern snorted, directing his webcam to his face once more, "I know you're Herthasexual, Karli, but can't you at least pretend to enjoy the view?"

The Badener furrowed his thick ass eyebrows, teeth bared like a wild(park) animal. "Get your dick off my screen or I'll do it for you."

"How are you gonna do that, Karli?" Lautern challenged, hands on his hips.

"Easy," Karlsruhe snarled, "I'm gonna cut it off."

Darmstadt’s face turned green, her dinner ready to get out of her body, but the two rivals ignored her.

"And I'm gonna make it slow. And. Painful."

The third-placed club's menacing tone could strike fear in lesser beings, but not the awesome Red Devil, who'd defeated Bayern München as an Aufsteiger years ago and would definitely win against complacent Ingolstadt tomorrow. "How painful could your circumcision be, Karli dearest?" Kaiserslautern asked, zooming into his face as well, "as painful as Hertha's love bites?"

"Shut up," Karlsruhe gritted out, crossing his arms on his chest. "Unlike your beloved Stuggi, Hertha isn't just someone you could fuck."

"Aww, come on, Karli," Lautern retorted with a playful wink, "I'm sure you've slept with Vf-Bae, too."

"When hell freezes over!" the brunette snapped.

"Oh no," Lautern smirked, his sharper-than-human canine glinting in the fluorescent light of his apartment. "Hell isn't going to freeze over, my K-S-C," he said with the speed one would use when talking to a dense three-year-old, "Hell's gonna be a 1. Bundesliga stadium!"

“Never gonna happen!” Karlsruhe booed, and coupled with Darmstadt’s hesitant laughter, he felt that he should’ve been more dramatic – it would’ve stung less!

Darmstadt, Hesse

Thirty minutes earlier…

  "Kaiserslautern?" Arminia Bielefeld said, his face full of envy... and yet, she could see grudging respect. "Really?"

SV Darmstadt 98, poor, timid and newly promoted, looked up at the club she'd narrowly defeated with wide blue eyes. "What's with him?"

"Just you wait," Arminia scoffed, "he's the most annoying and self-centered personification ever. You're gonna wish you weren't promoted!"

Darmstadt had seen his exaggerated description of Lautern as a butthurt expression back then, but now, after a season of being looked down upon and bullied before becoming his and Karlsruhe's third wheel, she thought Bielefeld had been 100% accurate.

“What can a promotion club like you do?” the four-time German champion scoffed, “It’s just dumb luck.”

Sure, Darmstadt’s boys had shut him up with a 3:0 win, but she couldn’t forget how those two had ditched Braunschweig, their fellow ‘cool kid’ who’d long since missed promotion, to mock her.

Had this happened two years ago, when her status as a professional football club was in the brink of collapse, the ‘deadly duo’ would’ve brought her down, but now, all their condescension only incited her burning desire to get to the top.

Getting to the top, she’d learned, took more than ‘dumb luck’ and trained physique. It also took a trained mind, one that could read between the lines and twist every word, every action to her needs…

Even her own. While she never stopped believing in her team, she would act otherwise – in front of Sandhausen, Fortuna or Soda, she would put on a cool smile, even bluff when needed, but before KSC and FCK… she would be shy and insecure, only a little hopeful, and completely astounded when she won. All that only made them less and less guarded with her – so now, before she claimed the coveted second place, she’d put on a last show.

  Welcome, lilien98!

Notifications:

WasZumRoteTeufel updated his status: (photo) – ONE MORE MATCHDAY TO AUFSTIEG!

  Her reflexes brought her to the photo he’d uploaded. It was typical Lautern – he looked incredibly silly (as usual), with the darkish lighting, how it added sharpness to his features, his shirtless display, and then the glimmer of FCK’s red logo in his background…

Seriously, the whole club had a flair for dramatics. Sometimes Darmstadt wished she could do that, but compared to K-town, she had more limited financial (or graphic design) power. But that’s okay. She could stand being the bullied for this last matchday.

Ping!

Darmstadt went back to her notifs tab, and unsurprisingly, it was the Red Devils again.

  WasZumRoteTeufel invited you to a conference call. Accept/decline?

  Her answer was clear as day.

Karlsruhe, Baden-Württemberg

Present time

 “Never gonna happen!” Karlsruher SC snorted, Darmstadt joining in with a reserved laugh. “Besides, I’m the one who’s gonna steamroll Sechzig tomorrow.”

“Ah-ah-ah,” Lautern wagged a finger in front of the webcam. “No can do. My girlfriend’s gonna be desperate for Klassenerhalt, you won’t have time to score at all! And St. Pauli’s seconds away from relegation, too, so you’re not gonna have it easy either, Lilien.”

“I know,” Darmstadt mumbled, something like resignation shadowing her features, “but I’ll do my best…”

Karlsruhe rolled his eyes, wishing she weren’t so pathetic. Someone with a mentality like Darmstadt was not Bundesliga material. Well, all the better for his boys.

“’Do my best’? Puh-leeze,” Lautern scoffed, “If you’re promoted, I’ll run around Kaiserslautern naked.”

A mental image of his rival running around his city with the same clothes he was (not) wearing at the moment suddenly gave him a brilliant idea. “Oi, Lautern!”

“What, Karli?”

“If I get promoted,” the Badener said, “you have to run around Karlsruhe too!” He paused for a moment to think of a better punishment. “Oh, and sing my songs, please. Tell my city you’re happy I’m back to big time!”

Lautern doubled over in laughter. “Ha! Then you gotta sing my songs too… with my crest on your back!”

“Challenge accepted,” Karlsruhe replied. “As for you, Darmstadt…”

“Please, don’t make it too hard!” she begged with puppy eyes, “I don’t want to get naked!”

Karlsruhe racked his brain for something, something hard but not that embarrassing for the small club. “Fine, but you gotta treat me and Hertha on every date. Fair enough?”

“Yeah,” the blonde nodded, “Thanks, Karlsruhe.”

A silent two seconds passed.

“Oh, sorry, Lili dear, I almost forgot you!” the fourth-placed club (who would definitely stay there; Karlsruhe preferred Die Lilien for third, her team deserved at least that) exclaimed. “Here goes. If I’m promoted, you have to pay my bills for the next Hinrunde!”

Darmstadt gulped. “I…” She swallowed her saliva again, scratching her sweaty head, “I… Okay. I’ll use the salary from my side jobs.”

Side jobs, not side job, like the one Karlsruhe had. Like most personifications had. Doesn’t that son of a bitch have a fucking heart? But a bet was a bet, and she’d agreed. Besides, that asshole wouldn’t get promoted if he could help it!

“Anyway,” the Hessian said, recovering more quickly than ever, “since you two have placed your bets, isn’t it my turn?”

Kaiserslautern beat him to replying. “Oh, yes, dear Lili, what’s your bet?”

“Weeeeell,” Darmstadt smiled sweetly, batting her eyelashes, “If I end my 33-year-long wait…”

“Yeeeeeees?” the two rivals said in unison (and shooting each other dirty looks afterwards).

“Y’all have to do what you told each other,” she commanded, her blue eyes twinkling, “so you, Karli,” her lips twisted into a feral smirk, much like what the former Eurofighter saw so often in the redhead in their conference call, “kindly run around Karlsruhe, wear nothing but my flag, sing my songs, and shave those goddamned eyebrows of yours!”

Karlsruhe’s jaw dropped. He’d never imagined she would say that last part. Words had completely left him; with hands feeling his thick, dark eyebrows for what might be the last time, he watched horrible, horrible things playing in his head – like an outraged Hertha BSC – and he groaned.

On the other side of the screen, 1. FC Kaiserslautern had turned from a powerful ruler of hell into… well, a ruler of hell nervously biting his fingernails.

“And you, Lautern,” Darmstadt continued, “Since running is good for your beautiful muscles, you can run around Karlsruhe and Darmstadt, too. Wär das wunderschön?”

For a moment, it might seem like K-Town would mirror Karlsruhe’s reaction, but he only laughed maniacally. “Never, you mortals!”

“Let’s see about that!” Darmstadt boasted. “Worst of luck, guys!”

“You too!” the two boys chorused, ending the conference call with middle fingers and burning anticipation for tomorrow.

Kaiserslautern, Rhineland-Palatinate

May 17, 2015

 Fourth, the 1900-born Traditionsverein lamented as he trudged along the emergency stairs to his apartment, sweat (hell no, he wasn’t crying at all!) inexplicably coming out of his eyes, I finished fourth AGAIN.

By the time he arrived at his floor, he dropped to his knees, ignoring the sharp pain the hard floor sent the tired limbs and screamed to the ceiling: “FUCK YOU, INGOLSTADT!”

His voice was loud and hoarse, prompting all-too-familiar nags from downstairs, but he had no more fucks to give. “AND FUCK YOU TOO, DARMSTADT!” he raised a clenched fist and swung it like a bat, hoping the football gods would hear him from their hated heaven, “I HOPE YOU GET RELEGATED NEXT SEASON!”

Unfortunately, the voice of his landlady from right behind him put an end to his prayers. “Lautern, please! I have newcomers here!”

He turned his head to her direction, preparing himself for a long dressing down… but then, she pulled him into a tight hug. Her long, frizzy hair brushed on his face as she wept, wetting his damp shoulder, furious and disappointed and shaking uncontrollably, and he remembered-

She'd been at Fritz-Walter-Stadion. Watching the boys play. She’d worn the orange jersey he so hated, two scarves around her neck. She’d joined in the choreo, too, and she had cheered, chanted, cried-

 “I’m sorry!” Kaiserslautern choked, letting his tears wet his cheeks as he tightened his grip, nails digging into her scarf (her symbol of support, of love and faith for him and only him but what have I done?), “Fuck, I screwed up-” More sobs racked his body and oh god, the pain, the pain of his faithful fans and his own, he didn't care if she found out his real identity, he was just- “I’m so, so sorry…”

Karlsruhe, Baden-Württemberg

The same evening…

 “It’s not the end, Karlsruhe,” Markus Kauczinski said the umpteenth time, wrongly mistaking his personification’s jitters for something other than the prospects of running around the city with his dick exposed and his eyebrows gone, “there’s still a chance.”

“It’s not that!” Karlsruher SC half-snapped, fed up with the pep talk, “I just…” He looked away, feeling heat rise up to his cheeks. “God, you’d kill me for this.”

“For what?” the manager inquired, blue eyes narrowing behind his spectacles.

He shook his head. “I have to go home.”

Thankfully, Kaucze didn’t push the issue. “Get some rest.”

“I will,” Karlsruhe replied with a nod. “See you tomorrow, Coach.”

The moment he stepped out of Wildparkstadion’s dressing room, he turned his cellphone back on, the gears in his mind turning for his own dignity. No one had said ‘automatically promoted’ when they were betting… so what if I win the playoff?

The thought of returning to the first tier brought a grin to his face, and so, he logged in without hesitation.

 END

Bonus Scene

 Karlsruher SC ran to the training field, every pant a wish that he wouldn't mar his five-year record of punctuality...

But it was no use. He swore under his breath upon his arrival. Everyone was warming up now, leaving him completely exposed to his head coach (who, strangely, didn't bring a weapon to kill him.)

"Uh..." He laughed sheepishly. "Sorry, I-"

"First things first, Karlsruhe," Kauczinski said, hands crossed over his chest, "What happened to your eyebrows?"

[andrewuttaro]

New Look Sabres: GM 58 - NJD - The Room

Yea, I guess there still in the race even if it is a distant third. The race for the final wildcard spot has felt… hopeless at times. At some point in that game against the Rangers something snapped in me. You can talk yourself into a lot of things in life: putting off the laundry for too long, being lazy on your car registration until the Cop pulls you over, buying a Brian Gionta jersey that won’t even fit you. I was still able to talk myself into the Sabres making the playoffs before Friday night. I’m not so sure anymore. Sure, as of the posting of this blog Buffalo is a full five points back on first team out Carolina while Philadelphia is now breathing down their necks dead even in points while the Sabres have a game in hand. There is a scenario that could unfold here where the Hurricanes make the playoffs and the Flyers are the first team out. I mean Pittsburgh missing the playoffs would be fun but that’s like ordering a garbage plate and getting just the pasta salad: yeah, this isn’t bad, but the nature of this situation had me believing I would get quite a bit more. Yeah, our expectations were inflated by November but I’m not relitigating that again and I think all reasonable observers were placing the Sabres on the bubble back in September. We’re still on that bubble but who would have thought bubbles hurt so much to sit on? Luckily the Playoff Trash talk is out of the way for the Devils because I really don’t have the heart for that. I turned this game off after the Reinhart goal. Yeah, after it because I felt that hopeless. My dad messaged me because we have our cute little Sabres chat with my brother and he, perhaps for not knowing hockey so well (he’s more of a football guy), thought a one goal deficit wasn’t too much to overcome. He messaged me that in the third period and shortly thereafter admitted himself it was time to turn the game off. Get someone in your life who knows when to turn it off.

So, I know last game I said I wasn’t going to do the goal for goal recap and ended up doing it. I mean it for real this time: I just don’t have a recap in me. I was at the last game against the Devils and it wasn’t shit: in fact, Buffalo won 5-1 in a game that kind of felt liberating after the stretch of games before it. Buffalo lost 4-1 tonight and it looked like a different team. Sam Reinhart scored the one Sabres goal in this game, it was a nice rebound tap in when the game was still 2-1. I don’t feel the need to recap any of the Devils goals because they are folks I don’t follow regularly on a team that not only will not be a threat if the Sabres do pull a playoff berth out of their asses, but are likely one of the next teams to be mathematically eliminated from the playoffs after the Senators led the way into that abyss earlier this week. How long until the Sabres join those sad ranks? As recently as last week I thought this group of guys could pull off a tight race going into March and here we are with 24 games left and they don’t even look like they want it anymore. Yeah, once again a lot of stuff was said in the locker room after this game and I will get to that but what is it? What is the thing in the room that is holding them back? They lost to a Cory Schneider in this game who hadn’t won a game in a calendar year up until recently! I could rationalize the recent loss to Winnipeg as a tight game lost by inches. This one looked like a surrender. How is the team that led the whole league in November, however much that was obviously an aberration, coming out in a playoff race game like this? Something isn’t right in the room and apparently this is the only recourse for guys like me who don’t want to throw Jack Eichel and Rasmus Dahlin under the bus. It’s either there is something wrong in the room or we need to discuss our brightest stars not living up to potential. The former is the solution we opted for after last season’s utter shitshow. Botterill shipped Ryan O’Reilly out and if you’re decrying that trade now, you’re missing the forest for the trees. The latter option is too depressing to contemplate when we’re going on eight years without Sabres playoff hockey.

Is Jason Botterill going to do anything about this state of affairs? You know I’m not convinced the playoffs was ever the internal goal for this season. Every professional organization has the external goal which is fixed squarely on winning games, making the playoffs and winning a Stanley Cup. The internal goal is the real shit you get from the insiders like Friedman and McKenzie. We all pegged this team as a bubble team. Did Jason Botterill and the Front Office decide they were going to get Reinhart signed, then Skinner and make minor moves at the Trade Deadline and continue to build at the Draft and over the summer? The lack of movement at this awful moment seems to suggest that and the deadline a week from tomorrow stands to prove it. Yeah, Botts could make a splash and signal he wants this group to make the playoffs now. Frankly I’m desperate for that outcome to the point of not feeling the need to spell out exactly which trades I’m ok with and which ones I’m not. This ship looks to be going down right now but it isn’t below the waterline yet. And oh yes, I am past the point of bandying about around Phil Housley and his strategic decisions. We got our Scandella-less game and you see how well that went! I’m out of answers on the ice but the scarier part is that I am running out of answers in the Front Office now too. Was Housley’s comments about only having what the GM gave him to work with merry conservation starters over wings and Pearl Street? I’m not saying the GM needs to act in spite in response to those comments but what’s going on? What is going on? I really lead myself to believe we were in a hot new smart organization after the wild offseason last year and now I’m not so sure about that either. The jury is still out on that but in terms of the shot at a playoff spot I feel like the deliberations may be coming to an end.

But it isn’t over yet! Let’s get to our handsome ice soldiers in the locker room! What consolation do they have for us? Phil Housley said: “We’re still in this race.” I am not wasting my time dissecting the “we” and “in this race” right now with him. At this point we’re running about a 50/50 chance he’s completely lost the room morale wise. Us fans always make mountains out of mole hills but let’s look and listen to how the players felt. Sam Reinhart, visibly frustrated at being asked “…are you guys just about toast?” responded saying “we in the room don’t feel like we’re out of it at all.” It seems like that question came from media man Donald Trump warned you about Mike Harrington with the News, so I’ll let Samson off on that one. Zach Bogosian, okay yeah why not, let’s go to Zach Bogosian who responds to similar questioning about what makes him think this team can put together a few wins going forward here with: “It’s because of all the guys in this room here. I believe in them.” Okay, even if they’re losing faith in the coach if they can work together as a team that’s something, right? Fuck if I know. If their united there in the room, God bless them: I hope it results in more than just a festive golf trip in April. Captain Jack? I’m sure someone got words from him but I know he’s taking this hard so I’ll sit back and see if he’s going to hoist this group out of it. I won’t be grilling him about why he’s not scoring at the same clip he was in the middle of December. I’m sure he’s lifting twice as hard because of this slump. Three times as hard for the team itself.

There are no matchups over the next two weeks that inspire much of any confidence. If you are expecting to count potential W’s down the stretch here just trust me and don’t for your own mental health. I think we’re past that point now. These guys need to string 3 to 5 wins together now to even look like competitors for that last spot so take it easy now. Take solace in the fact that this less-than-hopeful calculus is happening after Valentine’s Day this season and not before Thanksgiving. There’s progress right there even if it’s not the advancement we wanted. Hey, the Rochester Americans are holding onto a division lead and stand to capture that title for the first time this decade. I’m enjoying that and you can look for this month’s Amerks Angle in the near future celebrating that. The Americans rough stretches last for three maybe four games. You can comfortably speculate about playoff matchups with them and if that’s what you’re looking for I recommend it over looking for rays of lights right now with the Sabres. Like, share and comment and the internet algorithms that curate our lives will cause us to meet again soon for that good time. In the meantime, I think we can take in trade deadline rumors with a not completely unrealistic hope that something may develop to change what we’re going through right now on this crazy roller coaster that is Sabres fandom. Let’s Go Buffalo.

Thanks for reading.

P.S. I can’t believe I got this done tonight. It’s better than starting a Monday off this way, eh?

[flauntpage]

Back on Track: Takeaways from a Fruitful Flyers Weekend

All it took was a little psychology.

That’s how Shayne Gostisbehere described it to me following the Flyers impressive 6-3 win over the Washington Capitals yesterday that capped off a perfect – and much-needed – four-point weekend.

Here’s what he said:

“We were talking about it [after last week’s loss to Columbus] and we realized, we’re not chasing anybody. We realized, we’re still in the driver’s seat. All we had to do was make things simple again, don’t try to do to much and just play our game. Going into these two games, we knew it was going to be tough because they were back-to-back, but we didn’t really have time to feel sorry for ourselves about what had happened previously.

“It really makes it easier to play that way. You go out there and instead of overthinking, you’re having fun out there. We’re in control. We’re in a playoff spot. Just bear down and have fun.”

Sounds simple enough.

And if the Flyers continue to play like they did against Washington – a team they match up well against and could well see in the first round of the playoffs – then they will certainly hold on to a playoff spot. And if they play the Capitals in the first round, they could maybe even steal a series – and they believe it too.

Asked if this is a team they like to match up with and one that could be a potential first round opponent, Wayne Simmonds put it bluntly:

“Yeah. Obviously it’s a divisional opponent. We generally play Washington pretty well. They always have a great team. I think we rise to the challenge when we play them.”

The Flyers have certainly looked like a confident team against the Capitals. They outscored them 19-11 in four games this year, going 3-1 against the current Metropolitan Division leaders.

But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The Flyers still sit in third place in the Division. They still sit two points ahead of Columbus and three points ahead of New Jersey – the two wild card teams – and both have a game in hand.

They pushed their lead back to eight points over Florida – the first team on the outside looking in – but the Panthers have a ridiculous four games in hand, which means they can really make the Flyers sweat over the final few weeks of the season.

So, the jockeying for playoff positioning will happen continuously over these next three weeks. But the Flyers have a little more breathing room now then they did before your NCAA brackets were busted.

“Honestly, I don’t think our confidence ever left,” said Travis Konencny, who had one hell of a night, which we’ll get to shortly. “We went into a stretch where we were playing unbelievable hockey for a couple months, but we knew at some point we’d face adversity and we just had to work through it.

“There’s always going to be ups and downs. There were stretches in the last little bit where we played well enough but we just didn’t get the outcomes we wanted. But we stuck to it and it’s paid off for us these last couple games.”

It was a hell of a weekend for the Flyers, even if it didn’t start off well.

1. Wrong time of year, coach

Konecny was “demoted” to the third line and Michael Raffl was bumped to his spot on the top line because of some recent mistakes that Konecny had made on the ice.

I’m going to stop here for a minute to complain about the coach (again), because that’s a real “I don’t get it.”

Konecny’s move to the top line coincided with the Flyers’ breakout this season. Sure he makes mistakes, but so does Jake Voracek. Neither is ever going to be mistaken for a defensive-minded player. They’re both gifted offensively – in different ways – and make the Flyers dangerous anytime they have the puck on their stick.

Will there be mistakes of tempo, the occasional turnover, being out of position, or not playing defensively? Yes. And although that can be frustrating at times, the good always outweighs the bad, and so, you accept it, because you know that unleashed style of play is going to result in more scoring chances.

So why then does Dave Hakstol continue to be overly punitive with Konecny as opposed to other players? Especially now, when the team is fighting for a playoff spot?

You want to send a message to a player, you do it in November. Doing it in March could hurt your team’s chances at success. This isn’t college anymore, Coach.

For two periods against Carolina Saturday, the Flyers offense looked inept. Konecny was buried on the third line with Val Filppula and Wayne Simmonds and Raffl, who isn’t exactly an offensive dynamo, was getting top line minutes with Sean Couturier and Claude Giroux.

It was a decision that could have cost them the game – as the team got behind 1-0 and it was staying that way for awhile.

But in the third period, Konecny was reunited with Giroux and Couturier – and lo and behold, scored a goal to tie the score.

Carolina re-took the lead, but the Flyers stormed back, getting goals from Voracek and Filppula 2:13 apart and an empty netter from Raffl to get a win in a game that wasn’t looking good for much of it.

So, one would think the coach would keep those line combinations intact the next night, after a four-goal third period outburst, right?

Wrong. There was Konecny, on the third line again. And there was the Flyers going scoreless in the first period again.

This time, Hakstol went back to his more traditional lines in the second period and – voila – three goals in the second, three goals in the third.

In other words – leave well enough alone.

It looks like Gostisbehere had a bit of a punitive seat on the bench in the third period yesterday, too, after a bad turnover that didn’t result in a Washington goal, but probably bothered Hakstol. He also has had times in his career where he’s been temporarily in Hakstol’s dog house. It’s petty, especially with players who put up numbers for your team.

2. A coaching decision that went right

I’m an equal opportunity person, and even though on most nights I use this space to treat Hakstol like he does Konecny, he made an unexpected, yet correct move on defense last night.

With Robert Hagg returning from his lower body injury, Brandon Manning became a healthy scratch for the first time since Oct. 21.

Read that again.

A guy, who is a No. 7 defenseman, was a healthy scratch for the first time since Oct. 21.

Yes, he missed three weeks worth of games in December with an injury, but other than that, he has been a staple of the Flyers lineup, on a third pair that has really not been good for most of the season (along with Radko Gudas).

Yet, with Travis Sanheim looking better (still making mistakes though) than he did in his first go round with the Flyers, Hakstol decided to keep Sanheim in the lineup and have Hagg replace Manning on the third pairing.

It was the right decision (as it would have been any of the 45 previous games, but I digress), and it paid off.

Gudas had a solid game. He was more active offensively. And although he had a blunder in the third period with the Flyers ahead three goals that led to a a 2-on-1 breakaway for the Capitals – and an eventual goal for Washington – he looked better than he has in some time.

Gudas finished with a pair of assists, his first multiple point game in more than a calendar year.

Hagg was his typical self, and the third pair looked… well, good.

I would assume this lineup will stay the same going into Detroit tomorrow, but one never knows with Hakstol.

3. TK’s not so excellent adventure

So, as we mentioned before, Konecny started on the third line… again. He got back to the first line and gave the Flyers some really good minutes.

But, he also was beat up physically.

First he blocked a shot with his quadriceps that had him limping to the tunnel in agony.

Konecny blocks a shot and heads to the locker room. pic.twitter.com/aQ06XEqF8n

— Sons of Penn (@SonsofPenn) March 18, 2018

Then upon his return, he took another shot to the midsection, which wasn’t exactly a comforting feeling.

“I’m learning,” he said. “It’s that time of year when those shots are crucial to make sure they’re not getting to your goaltender and you know I was just trying to do my best to get in the lane. You know, it’s funny, usually when you’re in the lane they won’t shoot the puck so maybe I wasn’t in position on them.”

Dealing with the frustration of serving as target practice, Konecny returned to the ice a third time and was immediately high-sticked by T.J. Oshie.

That was enough:

Konecny and Oshie drop the gloves! pic.twitter.com/1Kew6wPbQJ

— Sons of Penn (@SonsofPenn) March 18, 2018

“I was frustrated,” he said. So I finished my hit on (Oshie) and we went… hey, he’s not a bad guy to take off the ice when they’re trying to score.”

Konecny had to go off the ice a third time to get a cut on his hand treated from the fight. And came back a third time.

The kid is tough as nails. No wonder he is quickly becoming a fan favorite here in Philadelphia.

Konecny will gladly accept the team’s day off the ice today to try to recover in time for tomorrow’s game.

4. Another injury though

Not sure what happened, but Michael Raffl left the game with what the team is calling an upper body injury.

They sent out a statement from Ron Hextall – who wasn’t even at the game because he’s in Florida. That tells you it’s probably an injury that will cause him to miss time.

If so, I expect we’ll either see the return of Jori Lehtera or maybe, possibly, Taylor Leier?

The Flyers will probably send out an update late this afternoon.

5. Wayne Train back on track

Simmonds had his best game in a while. He scored a pair of goals. One on a beautiful deflection:

Wayne Simmonds redirects Robert Hagg's shot and it's 4-1! pic.twitter.com/5z9J6Ekn0I

— Sons of Penn (@SonsofPenn) March 18, 2018

And this from the team’s former chaplain:

I will venture to say #17 is the best ever Flyer with deflections at the crease. Honorable mention: Dorny and Tim Kerr. Kerr more of a sniper in front beating D to loose pucks.

— Edward J. Casey (@achs_fred) March 18, 2018

I must say, I agree with the good padre.

And then Simmonds’ second goal with a nice snap to it:

Wayne Simmonds steals the puck and scores! pic.twitter.com/wjws7CTyM0

— Sons of Penn (@SonsofPenn) March 18, 2018

If Simmonds starts to put the puck in the net with even more regularity in the final nine games of the season and into the playoffs, that could make the Flyers a really hard out.

6. Finally for Oskar

I know, you’ve all be waiting for this, but after 14 games, Oskar Lindblom finally scored his first NHL goal… and it was a beaut:

What a shot by Oskar Lindblom! pic.twitter.com/RZUBqs1f9Y

— Sons of Penn (@SonsofPenn) March 18, 2018

I like a lot about Oskar’s game as a whole. I think he’s going to be a solid pro. I’m not sure he’s ever going to be a top-tier goal scorer, but I think he’s a top nine forward for sure who can play on both ends of the ice and chip in with modest production.

If so, then that’s a gem of a find in the fifth round of a draft.

7. Mrazek reaches a mark

Better game overall for Petr Mrazek. He had one ugly goal, but the Flyers had a comfy lead at the time, so, no concerns. Right? Right?

Anyway, it was his fifth one as a Flyer. That was one of four triggers on the conditional 2018 fourth round draft pick that goes from the Flyers to the Red Wings in the trade.

If he gets five wins and;

The flyers makes the playoffs, the fourth round pick becomes a third round pick.

If the Flyers reach the Conference Finals and Mrazek has six playoff wins, the third round pick becomes a second round pick.

If the Flyers re-sign Mrazek, the Red Wings get a 2019 third round pick.

It looks like the Red Wings are getting a 2018 third round pick. I doubt the 2019 one will ever come into consideration.

  Back on Track: Takeaways from a Fruitful Flyers Weekend published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

[flauntpage]

Back on Track: Takeaways from a Fruitful Flyers Weekend

All it took was a little psychology.

That’s how Shayne Gostisbehere described it to me following the Flyers impressive 6-3 win over the Washington Capitals yesterday that capped off a perfect – and much-needed – four-point weekend.

Here’s what he said:

“We were talking about it [after last week’s loss to Columbus] and we realized, we’re not chasing anybody. We realized, we’re still in the driver’s seat. All we had to do was make things simple again, don’t try to do to much and just play our game. Going into these two games, we knew it was going to be tough because they were back-to-back, but we didn’t really have time to feel sorry for ourselves about what had happened previously.

“It really makes it easier to play that way. You go out there and instead of overthinking, you’re having fun out there. We’re in control. We’re in a playoff spot. Just bear down and have fun.”

Sounds simple enough.

And if the Flyers continue to play like they did against Washington – a team they match up well against and could well see in the first round of the playoffs – then they will certainly hold on to a playoff spot. And if they play the Capitals in the first round, they could maybe even steal a series – and they believe it too.

Asked if this is a team they like to match up with and one that could be a potential first round opponent, Wayne Simmonds put it bluntly:

“Yeah. Obviously it’s a divisional opponent. We generally play Washington pretty well. They always have a great team. I think we rise to the challenge when we play them.”

The Flyers have certainly looked like a confident team against the Capitals. They outscored them 19-11 in four games this year, going 3-1 against the current Metropolitan Division leaders.

But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The Flyers still sit in third place in the Division. They still sit two points ahead of Columbus and three points ahead of New Jersey – the two wild card teams – and both have a game in hand.

They pushed their lead back to eight points over Florida – the first team on the outside looking in – but the Panthers have a ridiculous four games in hand, which means they can really make the Flyers sweat over the final few weeks of the season.

So, the jockeying for playoff positioning will happen continuously over these next three weeks. But the Flyers have a little more breathing room now then they did before your NCAA brackets were busted.

“Honestly, I don’t think our confidence ever left,” said Travis Konencny, who had one hell of a night, which we’ll get to shortly. “We went into a stretch where we were playing unbelievable hockey for a couple months, but we knew at some point we’d face adversity and we just had to work through it.

“There’s always going to be ups and downs. There were stretches in the last little bit where we played well enough but we just didn’t get the outcomes we wanted. But we stuck to it and it’s paid off for us these last couple games.”

It was a hell of a weekend for the Flyers, even if it didn’t start off well.

1. Wrong time of year, coach

Konecny was “demoted” to the third line and Michael Raffl was bumped to his spot on the top line because of some recent mistakes that Konecny had made on the ice.

I’m going to stop here for a minute to complain about the coach (again), because that’s a real “I don’t get it.”

Konecny’s move to the top line coincided with the Flyers’ breakout this season. Sure he makes mistakes, but so does Jake Voracek. Neither is ever going to be mistaken for a defensive-minded player. They’re both gifted offensively – in different ways – and make the Flyers dangerous anytime they have the puck on their stick.

Will there be mistakes of tempo, the occasional turnover, being out of position, or not playing defensively? Yes. And although that can be frustrating at times, the good always outweighs the bad, and so, you accept it, because you know that unleashed style of play is going to result in more scoring chances.

So why then does Dave Hakstol continue to be overly punitive with Konecny as opposed to other players? Especially now, when the team is fighting for a playoff spot?

You want to send a message to a player, you do it in November. Doing it in March could hurt your team’s chances at success. This isn’t college anymore, Coach.

For two periods against Carolina Saturday, the Flyers offense looked inept. Konecny was buried on the third line with Val Filppula and Wayne Simmonds and Raffl, who isn’t exactly an offensive dynamo, was getting top line minutes with Sean Couturier and Claude Giroux.

It was a decision that could have cost them the game – as the team got behind 1-0 and it was staying that way for awhile.

But in the third period, Konecny was reunited with Giroux and Couturier – and lo and behold, scored a goal to tie the score.

Carolina re-took the lead, but the Flyers stormed back, getting goals from Voracek and Filppula 2:13 apart and an empty netter from Raffl to get a win in a game that wasn’t looking good for much of it.

So, one would think the coach would keep those line combinations intact the next night, after a four-goal third period outburst, right?

Wrong. There was Konecny, on the third line again. And there was the Flyers going scoreless in the first period again.

This time, Hakstol went back to his more traditional lines in the second period and – voila – three goals in the second, three goals in the third.

In other words – leave well enough alone.

It looks like Gostisbehere had a bit of a punitive seat on the bench in the third period yesterday, too, after a bad turnover that didn’t result in a Washington goal, but probably bothered Hakstol. He also has had times in his career where he’s been temporarily in Hakstol’s dog house. It’s petty, especially with players who put up numbers for your team.

2. A coaching decision that went right

I’m an equal opportunity person, and even though on most nights I use this space to treat Hakstol like he does Konecny, he made an unexpected, yet correct move on defense last night.

With Robert Hagg returning from his lower body injury, Brandon Manning became a healthy scratch for the first time since Oct. 21.

Read that again.

A guy, who is a No. 7 defenseman, was a healthy scratch for the first time since Oct. 21.

Yes, he missed three weeks worth of games in December with an injury, but other than that, he has been a staple of the Flyers lineup, on a third pair that has really not been good for most of the season (along with Radko Gudas).

Yet, with Travis Sanheim looking better (still making mistakes though) than he did in his first go round with the Flyers, Hakstol decided to keep Sanheim in the lineup and have Hagg replace Manning on the third pairing.

It was the right decision (as it would have been any of the 45 previous games, but I digress), and it paid off.

Gudas had a solid game. He was more active offensively. And although he had a blunder in the third period with the Flyers ahead three goals that led to a a 2-on-1 breakaway for the Capitals – and an eventual goal for Washington – he looked better than he has in some time.

Gudas finished with a pair of assists, his first multiple point game in more than a calendar year.

Hagg was his typical self, and the third pair looked… well, good.

I would assume this lineup will stay the same going into Detroit tomorrow, but one never knows with Hakstol.

3. TK’s not so excellent adventure

So, as we mentioned before, Konecny started on the third line… again. He got back to the first line and gave the Flyers some really good minutes.

But, he also was beat up physically.

First he blocked a shot with his quadriceps that had him limping to the tunnel in agony.

Konecny blocks a shot and heads to the locker room. pic.twitter.com/aQ06XEqF8n

— Sons of Penn (@SonsofPenn) March 18, 2018

Then upon his return, he took another shot to the midsection, which wasn’t exactly a comforting feeling.

“I’m learning,” he said. “It’s that time of year when those shots are crucial to make sure they’re not getting to your goaltender and you know I was just trying to do my best to get in the lane. You know, it’s funny, usually when you’re in the lane they won’t shoot the puck so maybe I wasn’t in position on them.”

Dealing with the frustration of serving as target practice, Konecny returned to the ice a third time and was immediately high-sticked by T.J. Oshie.

That was enough:

Konecny and Oshie drop the gloves! pic.twitter.com/1Kew6wPbQJ

— Sons of Penn (@SonsofPenn) March 18, 2018

“I was frustrated,” he said. So I finished my hit on (Oshie) and we went… hey, he’s not a bad guy to take off the ice when they’re trying to score.”

Konecny had to go off the ice a third time to get a cut on his hand treated from the fight. And came back a third time.

The kid is tough as nails. No wonder he is quickly becoming a fan favorite here in Philadelphia.

Konecny will gladly accept the team’s day off the ice today to try to recover in time for tomorrow’s game.

4. Another injury though

Not sure what happened, but Michael Raffl left the game with what the team is calling an upper body injury.

They sent out a statement from Ron Hextall – who wasn’t even at the game because he’s in Florida. That tells you it’s probably an injury that will cause him to miss time.

If so, I expect we’ll either see the return of Jori Lehtera or maybe, possibly, Taylor Leier?

The Flyers will probably send out an update late this afternoon.

5. Wayne Train back on track

Simmonds had his best game in a while. He scored a pair of goals. One on a beautiful deflection:

Wayne Simmonds redirects Robert Hagg's shot and it's 4-1! pic.twitter.com/5z9J6Ekn0I

— Sons of Penn (@SonsofPenn) March 18, 2018

And this from the team’s former chaplain:

I will venture to say #17 is the best ever Flyer with deflections at the crease. Honorable mention: Dorny and Tim Kerr. Kerr more of a sniper in front beating D to loose pucks.

— Edward J. Casey (@achs_fred) March 18, 2018

I must say, I agree with the good padre.

And then Simmonds’ second goal with a nice snap to it:

Wayne Simmonds steals the puck and scores! pic.twitter.com/wjws7CTyM0

— Sons of Penn (@SonsofPenn) March 18, 2018

If Simmonds starts to put the puck in the net with even more regularity in the final nine games of the season and into the playoffs, that could make the Flyers a really hard out.

6. Finally for Oskar

I know, you’ve all be waiting for this, but after 14 games, Oskar Lindblom finally scored his first NHL goal… and it was a beaut:

What a shot by Oskar Lindblom! pic.twitter.com/RZUBqs1f9Y

— Sons of Penn (@SonsofPenn) March 18, 2018

I like a lot about Oskar’s game as a whole. I think he’s going to be a solid pro. I’m not sure he’s ever going to be a top-tier goal scorer, but I think he’s a top nine forward for sure who can play on both ends of the ice and chip in with modest production.

If so, then that’s a gem of a find in the fifth round of a draft.

7. Mrazek reaches a mark

Better game overall for Petr Mrazek. He had one ugly goal, but the Flyers had a comfy lead at the time, so, no concerns. Right? Right?

Anyway, it was his fifth one as a Flyer. That was one of four triggers on the conditional 2018 fourth round draft pick that goes from the Flyers to the Red Wings in the trade.

If he gets five wins and;

The flyers makes the playoffs, the fourth round pick becomes a third round pick.

If the Flyers reach the Conference Finals and Mrazek has six playoff wins, the third round pick becomes a second round pick.

If the Flyers re-sign Mrazek, the Red Wings get a 2019 third round pick.

It looks like the Red Wings are getting a 2018 third round pick. I doubt the 2019 one will ever come into consideration.

  Back on Track: Takeaways from a Fruitful Flyers Weekend published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/