Bleacher Report - Articles by Tim Parent

SATIRE: Pete Rose Starts Dogfighting Ring in Hopes of MLB Reinstatement

Tim Parent — Wed, 29 Jul 2009 16:46:48 -0400

After the National Football League allowed reformed dog killer Michael Vick back into its ranks, Pete Rose, who was banned from baseball for gambling, has launched his own dogfighting operation in the hopes Major League Baseball will give him a second chance.

"Vick shot and killed dogs after a mauling in the ring. I gambled. Guess I picked the wrong vice," said Rose, petting his prized pitbulls Charlie and Hustle.

Earlier this week, NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell reinstated Vick, following his recent release from prison for running a dogfighting ring. For Vick, it means he can participate in regular season games as early as October, should a team sign him on.

Rose has been out of baseball since August of 1989, when allegations surfaced he bet on games when he was both a player and a manager of the Cincinnati Reds. To this day, Rose maintains he never bet against his team.

Because of the ban, baseball's all-time hit king will never be voted into Cooperstown, the baseball Hall of Fame.

Recently, MLB commission Bud Selig insisted, from his point of view, nothing has changed and the status-quo, as it pertains to Rose, will remain.

That's why Rose has started the dogfighting ring.

"Everyone is ready to accept Vick. He's paid his dues, they say. Well, for me, it has been a 20 year sentence and counting," declared an agitated Rose.

"I figure, if Vick can look at a defenseless animal and shoot it dead...and still be allowed to return to the sport he loves, maybe it'll work for me."

At this point, the dogfighting ring consists solely of Rose and his two dogs.

"The two fight over an ol' ham bone. No one really gets hurt. Charlie and Hustle fight over bones under my kitchen table all the time, really."

Whether the dogfighting operation will garner even more sympathy for Rose remains to be seen.

"Hopefully, Selig will take a page from (Roger) Goodell's book and give me a shot at Cooperstown."

Rose has already been inducted into one sport's Hall of Fame. In 2004, Rose was inducted into the "Celebrity Wing" of the WWE Hall of Fame, the first celebrity to receive such an honor.

Scooby Doo Revealed To Be One of Michael Vick's Victims (Satire)

Tim Parent — Tue, 02 Jun 2009 17:51:25 -0400

As recently paroled quarterback Michael Vick works to rebuild his shattered reputation and secure a spot on an NFL roster, it was revealed today that one of the victim's of Vick's dogfighting ring was beloved Hanna-Barbera character Scooby-Doo.

Sheriff's deputies found the remains of the Great Dane in May 2007, buried in shallow grave on the Surry County, Va. property that Vick once owned. A dog collar with a blue and gold medallion sporting the letters 'SD' confirmed the identity of the crime solving pooch, admired by children around the world.

Investigators decided to announce the death of Scooby-Doo after The Mystery of the Spooky Space Kook was solved by a team of FBI agents instead of the meddling kids of Scooby-Doo's gang. How Scooby died was not revealed.

How the aging animal found his way to Vick's underground dogfighting circle is also a mystery.

Sources close to the investigation claim Scooby was brought to Virginia by friend and close companion Fred "Freddie" Jones who had several run ins with the law after numerous failed attempts to start his own detective agency.

It's alleged Jones owed more than $50,000 in gambling debts and was looking to cash in by putting Scooby in to the ring with raging, half-starved pitbulls sometime in late 2006.

"It probably wasn't the smartest thing to do," says one investigator who asked to remain anonymous. "As we all know, Scooby-Doo was a coward. He wouldn't have been able to hold his own against a pitbull."

The investigator says a Scooby Snack might have resulted in a different outcome but it's unknown if any were supplied to dog before getting in to the ring.

Attempts to reach Jones were unsuccessful. It's believed he fled to Mexico with Norville "Shaggy" Rogers, wanted by authorities for breaking his parole on a drug charge.

Word of Scooby-Doo's death shocked the animated community.

"Jinkies!" cried Velma Dinkley, a former Scooby gang member.

"You know what? That makes me mad," said Droopy Dog in his trademark jowly monotone.

Daphne Blake, another of Scooby's former companions, has agreed to cover the cost of a proper funeral for the animal.

When approached about the death of Scooby Doo, Vick deferred to his agent Joel Segal who offered no comment.

NFL commissioner Roger Goodell admitted this does hinder Vick's chances of having his suspension lifted, thereby hindering his attempts to find an NFL team to sign him on.

"Everybody loved Scooby-Doo," said Goodell, "it's hard to imagine he's gone."

Vick was drafted first overall by the Atlanta Falcons in 2001, leading the team to the playoffs twice including the conference championship game in January 2005.

Vick was identified in April 2007 as "the key figure" of an extensive unlawful interstate dogfighting ring operating for nearly five years. He was sentenced to 23 months but served only 19.

Investigators says Scooby's newphew, Scrappy, was also killed in Vick's dogfighting ring but few seemed disturbed by the revelation.

Surviving a Car Crash: A Guide for the Montreal Canadiens

Tim Parent — Sat, 02 May 2009 13:18:56 -0400

The Montreal Canadiens 100th season was very much like watching a car accident.

It cruised along during the first half of the season, with the team having both hands firmly planted on the wheel and a strong wind behind it.

At the start of the new year, and heading in to the All-Star break, the back wheel got a little wobbly, making the car somewhat unbalanced and shaky.

When the push for the playoffs began, the wobbly back wheel blew, sending the car swerving all over the road. The team jerked the wheel, fought for control, managed to keep it steady for a moment or two.

As the regular season came to an close, the car hit the gravel shoulder and spun it wildly out of control. Four games later, it flipped and hit the median, sending the team smashing through the windshield and littering the road with bodies and busted debris.

As with any wreck, an investigation is underway as to its cause. The question is: Who was behind the wheel at the time of the crash?

Some would like to point the finger at Guy Carbonneau, the former coach and former player. It would appear, however, he was riding shotgun and focusing on the GPS, trying to find the best combination to get the team where it needed to go. Ultimately, he got them nowhere, fast.

It's fair to say Carbonneau was distracted by the rambunctious kids in the back seat, guys like Carey Price, Chris Higgins, and the Kostitsyn brothers but it was near impossible to get them under control, bewitched by the fast cars and easy women.

Saku Koivu and Alex Kovalev were also in the car but they kept nodding off, waking up only when the car hit a pothole or if they were being poked by the media who were also along for the ride.

That leaves only the GM and new coach Bob Gainey driving the Habs' car in to 100th season oblivion. Gainey was not oblivious to what was going on with the car, but Gainey being Gainey, kept it all inside, quietly working on a solution but finding none that worked.

He even blamed, in part, the mechanic who worked on the car prior to the trade deadline, Tampa Bay Lightning GM Brian Lawton, who, according to Gainey, talks too much and fails to get the job done.

Gainey, and the team, survived the crash although many are lingering in intensive care, awaiting contracts. In the end, they may get the care they need in other cities, players like Mike Komisarek, Robert Lang, Francis Bouillon, Patrice Brisebois, and Mathieu Dandenault.

Such is the way of car accidents. Some make it, some don't. Now is the time for the Montreal Canadiens to regroup, dust off the broken glass and pieces of asphalt and start chatting up free-agents and car salesmen.

It's time to put the past behind them like the faded yellow lines of the highway. The road is long and the destination is certainly worth it, provided the team can keep all four wheels firmly on the ground.

I Think the NFL Tried To Recruit Me

Tim Parent — Thu, 09 Apr 2009 16:20:46 -0400

I logged on to my Facebook account the other day because, for once, I did have something on my mind, which is what Facebook is always tries to coax out of me every time I log in.

I had been eating a bowl of Alpha Bits cereal and discovered the letters M-I-L-K floating in the very substance that was turning those four letters in to a texture similar to wet cardboard. The irony of it all prompted me to head straight to the social networking site and share my discovery with my 158 friends.

I didn't see it right away but as I was readying another digital board of Scrabble, the friend request in the upper right-hand quarter caught my attention. Intrigued, I clicked on the link to see who was looking to be my latest friend.

Her name was JoBeth Anderson and, from her picture, she was a football fan. Her golden locks spilled around a what appeared to be a Tennessee Titans jersey. Her toothy smile and smokey eyes implied a free spirit with a dash of mystery and a hint of danger.

"Hi!" read her message, bubbling with personality, "I thought we could be friends!"

I did a quick check of her profile: 20-years-old, a communications major at the University of Tennessee (Go Vols!), who had just posted her top five "Dog Breeds I love and owned or want to own!" list. She had chosen a Bull-mastiff as her No. 1. Whatever.

I accepted her friend request and, almost immediately, a chat box appeared at the bottom of my computer screen.

I won't bore you with the inane pleasantries and introductions but I asked her if she was a football fan.

"I sure am!" came the typed response. You could almost hear the southern drawl in her keyboard strokes.

She explained the Titans are her "most favorite team evah! lol!". She had seen just about every game last season and was optimistic of the team's chances this fall.

"OMG! I can't wait 4 the season to start!"

Her enthusiasm struck me as odd. I don't know many people to get that excited about the Titans, not even Titans fans.

"Hey, is that you at a bar? Is that your girlfriend?"

She had started checking out my photos on Facebook. There's a shot of my wife and I at a bar a couple of years ago. I'm toasting the camera with a pint of Heineken, a pack of smokes clearly evident in my shirt pocket.

"No, it's my wife. Why are you looking at my photos, exactly?"

"Because I can, silly!!1! lol!! Oh, man, I LUV Rock Band!"

This was getting strange but then it got abstract.

"You're a pretty big guy to play a WR. Have you ever thought about playing as an offensive lineman?"

I didn't really know how to respond to that. I don't even play football, except for Madden.

"You really should. There's plenty of teams out there who could use a little help up front. Far too many QB's getting the stuffing knocked out of 'em because of a poor blocking line up front."

"Uh..."

"Listen, I'll be on here from time to time. You wanna' talk football, possible contracts, you let me know."

"Uh..."

"I mean, thanks 4 chatting! hahha! :)! C U laterz~!!"

And so ended my chat with JoBeth Anderson, if that was her real name.

I took a bite of my Alpha-Bits which now spelled the words F-R-B-L-D-T-K, a jumble of soggy confusion, mimicking exactly how I felt.

I removed JoBeth from my Friends list, dismissing what appeared to be a bizarre attempt at recruitment. I mean, really, the Titans? I decided it was best to just finish off cereal before it got any more disgusting than it already was.

Does Sean Avery Have a Man Crush on Tim Thomas?

Tim Parent — Tue, 07 Apr 2009 18:02:51 -0400

Debate has been raging for days now as to whether the league should punish New York Rangers blowhard Sean Avery for his stick-tap to the back of the head of Boston Bruins goalie Tim Thomas.

The incident took place during the Bruins 1-0 shutout of the Rangers, smack dab in the middle of a TV timeout when, according to Thomas, "nothing happens". It is one of hockey's many unwritten rules.

Not one who routinely subscribes to the idea of rules, a nonchalant Avery skated up behind a stretching Thomas and, with his eyes looking to the crowd in mock interest, smacked the goalie.

Avery played it up as if he didn't see Thomas, feigning surprise that he had come under attack. Minor penalties were assessed for the major players of this mini drama.

There is no doubt the Ranger agitator deliberately meant to slap his stick on Thomas' head, but what the replay also reveals is Avery's unrequited man crush on the Bruins net-minder.

For those not in the know, a man crush, according to that bastion of the English lexicon The Urban Dictionary, is defined as one man's respect, admiration, and idolization of another man in a non-sexual way.

Celebrities and politicians have been known to have man crushes on each other; just look at Ben Affleck and Matt Damon or George Bush, Sr. and Bill Clinton. In the case of Affleck and Damon, their mutual admiration and respect for each other earned them an Oscar.

For the former presidents, the two came together following the tsunami disaster, forming a bond in a time of tragedy that, to this day, can not be broken.

And so, it would appear Sean Avery has developed a man crush on Thomas and chose to express his feeling for him by giving him a love tap on the back of the head, a sign of respect for great player.

What Avery has failed to realize is his lengthy track record of stupidity, culminated by the unfortunate "sloppy seconds" other NHL players know all too well, referring to his ex-girlfriend, actress Elisha Cuthbert.

By all accounts, Tim Thomas is a nice guy. Through hard work and dedication, he has persevered, earning his stripes with stints in Hamilton, Birmingham, and a starring role in Finland before getting his chance in Boston. He has proved to be a pivotal part of this Bruins team and instrumental in the team's run to the top of the Eastern Conference.

His payoff: a four-year, $20 million contract extension.

What this proves is Thomas does not gladly deal with fools and he will not tolerate Avery's antics. For the man crush to be reciprocated, Avery would have to change his ways, denounce his past, apologize, and move forward. He must earn respect from his fellow players both on and off the ice, the same way Thomas did, and be every bit a stand-up citizen who bites his tongue when the subject of ex-girlfriends comes up.

Then, and only then, could Avery, perhaps, hang with Thomas in the off-season, golfing and sipping beers, letting down his defences, and discussing his feelings with Thompson as they mutually crush on each other's hockey prowess.

Everyone loves a happy ending but it seems unlikely Avery is going to stay on the straight and narrow. The league better get used to love taps to the back of the head and Avery better get used to sipping beers by himself.

Despite Rumor, F1 Not Likely to Return to Montreal in '09

Tim Parent — Mon, 30 Mar 2009 19:55:36 -0400

As rumors go, this one seemed about as likely as Madonna being told she could no longer adopt small African children.

Still, in a city still feeling the effects of having the F1 yanked from its summer line-up of festivities, hope sprang eternal.

A report surfaced over the weekend indicating that Montreal may still play host to the F1 in 2009 because Abu Dhabi was behind schedule in getting its track ready for its race set to run Nov. 1.

Dig deeper, and the reasons why this rumor lacks any substance become clear.

First off, Abu Dhabi, the capital of United Arab Emirates, is oozing with money. It sweats dirhams out of every pore. The city's towering skyline is a testament to its opulence; large buildings are constructed faster than Superman can leap them.

Seems unlikely engineers in that country couldn't get it together to build the track by race day.

Secondly, those in charge of the day-to-day operations of running the city of Montreal, namely mayor Gerald Tremblay and his executive committee, had never been given any indication their town would bask in the F1 glow this year.

Besides, Tremblay added, he doesn't want a one-shot race return. He's looking for a deal that would bring the race back to Montreal for good.

Tremblay did admit, however, that talks to that effect are ongoing. Until now, most had assumed Montreal and F1's big boss, Bernie Ecclestone, were in a cooling-off period after some words were exchanged following the initial loss of the event back in October.

But really, the dead giveaway that the rumor is bogus was the proposed date of the event.

Traditionally, the Canadian Grand Prix is run in early June; the report implied should the event return to Montreal this year, it would take place at the beginning of November.

Any one familiar with Montreal knows that when November makes its way to the city, not only does it chase away what's left of the falling leaves, it carries with it the colder weather that Canada is known for. Sometimes, for good measure, it brings a dusting of snow.

It seems unlikely that the sleek and powerful F1 cars would adhere well to the surface of Circuit Gilles Villeneuve if it was covered in a thin layer of powder. Besides, does Bridgestone even manufacture snow tires for F1 racers?

And so the rumor, much like the Canadian Grand Prix, dies a quick death.

But all is not lost: Negotiations continue, and it's possible the race could return to North American soil sooner than most believed possible.

Still, expect Madonna to have adopted a few more third-world children before the high-pitched whine of an F1 engine cuts through the late-spring smog of a Montreal morning.

Habs Are Free Fallin': A Musical Tribute to Failure

Tim Parent — Mon, 23 Mar 2009 17:56:11 -0400

As I celebrate my 100th article, I figure it's time for a song.

(Habs are) Free Fallin'

with apologies to Tom Petty

Know a Habs fan, loves Bob Gainey,

Loved Carbo, and his line changes, too.

Know a Habs fan, is crazy about Koivu,

Loves Halak...and Carey Price, too.

It's been a long day, down at the Bell Center.

There's a scalper, tryin' to unload some seats.

It's been a bad day, Habs are fightin' for contention.

They're a bad team, don't think anyone disagrees.

(chorus)

Habs are free, free fallin'.

Yeah, Habs are free, free fallin'.

In the last game, they lost to Toronto,

Had to endure boos from the crowd.

Now my jersey has the stench of failure

One hundred years, let's not be too proud.

(chorus)

I wanna' ride in a Stanley Cup parade.

I want the Habs to take it all,

but it's a free fall out of the standings

Price can't stop a friggin' beach ball!

Habs are free, free fallin'.

Yeah, Habs are free, free fallin'.

(repeat for the remainder of the season)

Parents Line Up To Hand Over First-Born Sons for Yankees Tickets

Tim Parent — Sat, 21 Mar 2009 16:19:29 -0400

With opening day just a few short weeks away, desperate fans are handing over their first-born sons to the New York Yankees in exchange for front-row seats for opening day at the new Yankee Stadium.

"I mean, this is an historic event!" explained Joe Broncetti, a die-hard Yankees fan from the Bronx who arrived at the park with his 8-year-old son Tom in tow.

"I've got two other children left and, really, it's one less mouth to feed," he added, rustling the hair of the boy.

List price for an individual, front-row ticket for the opener against the Cleveland Indians runs a whopping $2,625, no small sum in these tough economic times.

When the Yankees announced the team was willing to accept first-born sons in exchange for a ticket, dozens of families jumped at the chance.

"You can't put a price on history," rationalized Debbie Morgan, a mother of two who arrived at the new Yankee Stadium ticket office wearing a Babe Ruth pinstripe jersey and clutching the hand of her 7-year-old son Jayden, staring wild-eyed as more families arrived, ready to unload their boys.

The Yankees have indicated all the boys collected will be fed, educated, and put through a difficult training regimen designed to make them possible future prospects for the team. Those that don't make the cut will be sent back to their families when they reach 18.

A single ticket in the bleachers will run only $14, but those in line scoffed at the thought.

"The bleachers are for drunkards and Red Sox fans!" exclaimed Carl Pavone, looking to snag a seat behind third in exchange for his son, 11-year-old Mark.

"What kind of example do you think we want to set for our kids?" he added, glancing at a printout of the seating chart.

Across town, at the Mets' new Citi Field, high-end seats run almost $700 or a couple of pints of blood, which the team is donating to the Red Cross.

NCAA Tournament: Tips To Get Out of Work and Enjoy the Show

Tim Parent — Mon, 16 Mar 2009 16:58:15 -0400

Ah, spring!

When the Northern Hemisphere crawls out from under winter's bitterly cold blanket, when the birds try and do it with the bees...or something, and when a young man's fancy turns to March Madness as it finally returns in all its glory.

Unfortunately, there's a little thing I like to call "the mortgage" (you may call it "rent" or "webcam service charges" or whatever!) that gums up the works of the March Madness machine.

To pay the bills, one must work for "the man,” day in and day out and that means missing a large chunk of the tournament.

Fear not, for I bring you tidings of great joy!

There are several ways one can get out of the daily grind and put you courtside—and by courtside, I mean plunking your carcas on the couch and soaking up all the action.

The Snip-Snip Defense

After slipping a couple past the goalie resulting in two more mouths to feed, it may be time to think about the unthinkable. Get the scissors ready—it's time for your vasectomy!

A do-it-yourself vasectomy is not recommended. It's best to leave that up to the professionals because, in the end, it really does make a vas deferense!

Ha! Vasectomy humor. It cuts right to the funny bone! Zing!

If stifling your seed just to watch the top seeds seems a little extreme, you should know vasectomies during March Madness are on the rise. In fact, more and more men have signed up for the operation because the recovery period lasts a good four days.

So, not only do you get a get a doctor's note to silence your boss, you also get a few days rest on the couch, with the NCAA tourney on the boob tube and some frozen peas thawing on your crotch.

Now that's a final four I can believe in!

The Sushi Spew

This one requires a little advanced preparation, a small amount of cash, and some childish behavior, which, by the way, describes most of my weekends.

Pick your games and then, a day before tip-off, pick up some takeout sushi on your lunch break. It's best if you make a bit of a show of it for your cubicle neighbors. It's imperative they know you had sushi for lunch.

Take a couple of bites and then let it sit out on your desk overnight. Do not draw attention the leftover sushi on your desk.

The following day, start the day a little earlier by stopping at the supermarket to pick up some of that quasi-sushi stuff they sell. Try to get in before your cubicle clones do. Ditch yesterday's batch and replace it with the supermarket stuff.

After all your work mates arrive, point out the sushi on your desk. Ask them if they think it would still be good enough to eat. Do a smell test and then take a bite. You know it's only been out 30 minutes but your co-workers think your nuts.

Eat a few more pieces and then throw it out.

Wait another half-hour and then get up quickly, fake a dry heave and run for the bathroom. Wretch as much as necessary and as loud as possible.

Flush frequently.

Before you leave the bathroom, run some water in your hair to make it look like you're sweating profusely. Run your hands under cold water and let them air dry. Tell the boss you're sick, you're going home, and then shake his hand in thanks. Cold and clammy hands are a great way to fool the boss.

Once on the couch, sip on some sake and enjoy the game!The Neighborhood Dolt Doctrine

Fire. It's not just for cavemen anymore!

Odds are, your boss has never met your neighbor. You, on the other hand, have probably not met your neighbor either, but what a pain in the butt he is, especially when his house catches fire.

Call your boss late evening the night before tip-off. Let him know your neighbor, the lunkhead that he is, chucked a cigarette in to the recycling bins between his and your house, resulting in a week's worth of newspapers erupting into flames.

Before the smoke detectors kicked in, the flames and smoke singed the rooftop of both houses. You were able to get the garden hose and put out the fire but now you have to wait for your insurance adjuster to assess the damage and the roofer to repair the burnt shingles.

The trick here is not to make this one whopper of a story. Larger fires tend to make the news and if you pitch it as a major disaster, you can forget about the game (and maybe your job, too!).

Play it up as if this is an annoyance and nothing more. Make sure he knows that you'd much rather be at work than explain what happened to the insurance company.

If you live in a condo, this one probably won't work for you. Try the sushi.

Good luck and enjoy the Madness!

(Disclaimer: Unless you we're actually planning on getting a vasectomy, I do not recommend you follow this advice in any way, shape, or form. If you're that hooked on NCAA basketball that you need to skip work, you probably shouldn't be working anyway!)

UFL Looks to Sign Michael Vick, Jesus Christ

Tim Parent — Fri, 13 Mar 2009 22:22:17 -0400

In what could be shaping up to be a blockbuster deal, the UFL is considering signing convicted dog killer and disgraced former Atlanta Falcons quarterback Michael Vick along with the Son of God, Jesus Christ.

UFL commissioner Michael Huyghue made it known earlier this week that Vick, who remains behind bars on federal dog fighting charges, would be welcome in the league provided a number of criteria are met.

For starters, Vick would have to complete his sentence in full. Further, the Falcons would have to release him, as they still own his contractual rights and finally, the league would require positive feedback from fans about Vick's return to the game.

In order to secure fan support, Huyghue is looking at inviting Christ, who was discovered by Vick shortly after the dogfighting charges were brought against him, in to the UFL fold.

"He appears to be a calming influence for Vick," stated Huyghue, "and besides, he's the Son of God. That will being some much-needed attention to the league."

When asked if a deal was in the works, Christ admitted discussions were ongoing.

"I've forgiven the sins of Michael Vick. I mean, it's what I do, right?" said Christ, as he walked on the water outside of his beachfront property in Malibu, Calif.

"If I can help him with his transition back into football, I'm there. I'm everywhere, really."

It's unclear what position Christ would play in the UFL, although analysts suspect the savior would be a good fit as an offensive tackle.

In that role, Christ would be able to protect Vick from being blindsided not only from an eager defensive line looking to make a name for itself, but from the hordes of media expected to dog Vick everywhere he goes.

"Sometimes I wish those media types would just go hell! Kidding! Kidding!" said Christ, as he miraculously turned water in to wine. "I forgive them, too."

The other question is, what team would the duo play for?

There are currently four cities with UFL franchises: New York/Hartford, Las Vegas/Los Angeles, San Francisco and Orlando.

Christ has made it known, he will not play for Vegas or San Francisco.

"Vegas is the city of sin. I'd be too distracted saving the souls of gamblers and showgirls," noted Jesus. "As for San Fran, well, they're big on the whole gay marriage thing and it might raise a few eyebrows if I were to sign on there."

"It's a nice city, though. I like what they did with Dad's design."

Vick is scheduled to be released from prison July 2.

I Think I Could Take the Montreal Canadiens

Tim Parent — Fri, 13 Mar 2009 16:45:20 -0400

After watching 60 minutes and 26 seconds of Thursday night's Montreal Canadiens game against the New York Islanders, I've come to the conclusion that I could take the Montreal Canadiens.

I'm not bragging or anything; I'm just reasonably sure if the opportunity presented itself, I would be able to notch a couple of points in my win column, courtesy of the Habs. I can hardly skate and I'm positive I'd be able to edge them out.

To be honest, I think just about anyone can take the Canadiens right now, even my grandmother. And she's dead. She's been dead a good nine years now, but then, the Habs have been pretty lifeless for the last nine games. It's actually more like 19 but who's counting?

I know you're saying to yourself, "Tim, how can you say that? That's your grandmother you're taking about!"

See, the thing is, my Nana was a tough ol' bird. Smoking two packs a day and washing down the tobacco with a couple of shots a vodka made her that way. Unfortunately, the same can't be said for Carey Price who, if the blogs are to be believed, is following the same regime.

Regardless, my Nana took no guff and that's a trait that she passed on to all her kids and her grand kids. I don't suffer fools gladly. I am, however, suffering at the hands of the Habs but hey, which Habs fan isn't these days, right?

So, with a take no prisoners approach and my street hockey days a good fifty pounds behind me, I'm confident I would own the Canadiens on the ice because they take the guff.

That is really what's at the heart of this team's decline into postseason obscurity, and it started way back in November when Mike Komisarek took a beat down at the hands of Milan Lucic or, as I like to call him, Lurch.

Nothing against Lucic personally; he's a helluva' player. Not only does he like to get in to the thick of the rough stuff, he also knows how to score goals. It's an effective combination and one of the reasons the Boston Bruins are tops in the East.

Lucic, however, took out Komisarek during a fight on Nov. 13. He suffered a shoulder injury which kept the rough and tumble defenceman out of the lineup for several long weeks.

So, what kind of retribution did the Canadiens impose? Not a thing. There was no pound of flesh exacted on Lucic or any other Bruin. No one even thumbed their nose at Lucic, letting the big man continue to do what he does.

I'm not calling on the Canadiens to go all Todd Bertuzzi on any one. God forbid. The league doesn't need any more nonsense like that. What should have happened, though, was Georges Laraque should have been given a little more ice time; the team should've played a little rougher; the guys should have made it known—you hit us, we'll hit back.

It didn't happen, not in the game against the Bruins in November or any of the games thereafter. And every team in the East (and a couple in the West) took notice. In a centennial year, when all eyes are on the Canadiens, opposing teams are going in with something to prove. The mentality is, "We're just as good as the Habs and we'll prove it." And they have. Time and time again, all season long.

The Montreal Canadiens is a team with little fight, with no fire burning in the belly. This is a team that has been horribly outshot in just about every game they've played because burly forwards know they can barrel through the lines with little to no resistance and slip one past a flailing Price.

This is why the Habs are struggling to hold on to fifth place, desperate just to make the playoffs at this point. The Stanley Cup isn't even on the radar.

That's why I know I could take this team. I could run roughshod over the Canadiens because unlike them, I want it more. Who wouldn't welcome the opportunity to have their name etched into the sterling silver of the Cup?

If the Canadiens wanted it more, they would've been able to beat the New York Islanders on Thursday night, the worst team in the NHL. They would be the ones to run roughshod over the Atlanta Thrashers, the Buffalo Sabres, the Pittsburgh Penguins, and the Washington Capitals. They would be the ones making sure there is a price to pay for hurting their players. They would fending off attackers instead of scrambling to place a ladder at the base of the Eastern Conference castle wall, praying hot oil doesn't come pouring down on top of them.

They would be making my Nana proud.

Montreal Canadiens Need Veteran Coach To Guide Rookie Team

Tim Parent — Tue, 10 Mar 2009 09:28:09 -0400

It was the timing that surprised most Montreal Canadiens fans although, by the end of Monday's supper hour, prognosticators from here to Sept-Iles, Quebec claimed to know that former head coach Guy Carbonneau's days were numbered.

Most believed that General Manager Bob Gainey would tough it out with Carbonneau until the end of the centennial season, but Gainey's trigger finger got itchy Saturday and on Monday, he took out the man who's hiring he once called the best decision he ever made.

Now, Gainey takes over behind the bench once again. It's certainly not foreign territory for the man but it has been awhile since he coached a team and only time will tell if he'll be able to shake of the cobwebs fast enough to keep the Habs in the playoff hunt.

And while it's still a little early to write off this season, it does beg a bigger question: what next?

Those same prognosticators who predicted Carbonneau's canning also believe Gainey is walking a fraying tightrope of job security. While short term success is vital for Gainey, particularly with only a handful of games left in the season, long term viability is also important to this struggling team.

It's no secret that Gainey's success as a general manager has been his ability to reel in reliable rookies and pluck the diamonds out of the rough. But when it comes to coaches, Gainey has to change up the formula.

This is a Montreal team made up of more young guys than veterans and we've seen the results and repercussions of that, from late night partying on Crescent St. from the likes of Christopher Higgins and Carey Price to accused, drug running hangers-on eager to corrupt the Kostitsyn brothers.

While there is no proof this behaviour is behind Montreal's lackluster play of late, it had to have had some effect in the dressing room.

That this even happened under Carbonneau's watch proves his players had lost a certain amount of respect for the man, a rookie himself when he was named coach of the Canadiens. These distractions and Carbonneau's inability to reign in it may have played a part in his dismissal.

That brings it back to Gainey who was brought on to make the tough decisions, proving Monday he certainly knows how to do that. Therefore, he needs to consider looking outside the operation when searching for a replacement for Carbonneau.

He can't look down the line at Doug Jarvis, Kirk Muller, or Roland Melanson because they would all be rookie coaches themselves. The team could find itself in the same situation a year or two down the line and that doesn't benefit anyone.

He needs to find a gritty coach who knows how to play both the heavy and the softy; A man who's voice will be heard; a man who commands respect and earns respect; a man who can guide both the vets and the rookies to success. It's a tall order but there are coaches out there who fit the bill.

Is Don Lever that coach? Only die hard fans could argue the merits of the Hamilton Bulldogs bench-runner but he's a guy who knows how to take charge of young hockey players.

He also knows several of the guys currently riding the pine of the Habs bench and coached some of them, too, which may be why Gainey called him up to the big leagues as his number two man.

Gainey hasn't made any major moves at ice level in the last two trade deadlines. Perhaps, in the off-season, he'll get busy securing some free agents and a head coach who can keep his young team on the straight and narrow.

That is, if he still has a job himself. Just ask the prognosticators.

I Think My Nintendo Wii Slugger Is Juicing

Tim Parent — Fri, 06 Mar 2009 10:40:16 -0500

I had an inkling something was up when I hit the practice field.

For the past several weeks, my Nintendo Mii just couldn't get it together. During the home run practice, he was lucky if he could knock one 138 feet, let alone 549 feet. Ground balls, pop-ups and strikes were the hallmarks of his performance, and I admit, I was disappointed.

Fast forward to Tuesday of this week. We head out to the practice field again and this time, I notice a particular swagger in his stance, a cockiness and confidence I hadn't seen before.

I wasn't sure what to make of it, but I knew he'd been really putting in some time in the Wii Fit area, working on his strength training, along with some balance exercises and even yoga. Yoga isn't my thing but, hey, it seemed to be paying off, and besides, who am I to judge?

With every swing of the bat, the ball sailed high in to the air, deep into center field, and over the wall. He even hit a couple out of the park, which surprised me because I had no idea that was even possible. He was a like a pixellated Alex Rodriguez.

As soon as that thought crossed my mind, the paranoia started creeping in, planting the seeds of doubt and suspicion. Had my Nintendo Mii really been working out in the Wii Fit area? I'm not there 24/7 and who knows what happens when the power button is off?

Before I started throwing accusations like a Roger Clemens fastball, I decided to check out Thursday night's game against the CPU All-Stars. They're a tough team, led by a coach whose nickname is "The Machine." He can rifle through stats in the blink of an eye, and with almost no indication whatsoever he can have his players altering their stance, swing and throw effortlessly, making it a difficult squad to beat.

My Mii had never had much success against the CPU, but on this particular night, he was on fire. He smacked a triple and sent another one into the upper deck. We won the game 8-3.

As the team celebrated the win in the locker room, the seeds of doubt and suspicion erupted into mighty elms of dubiousness, giving me a powerful headache and an upset stomach. I had to know.

At the Wii Fit training facility, I wade through a minefield of Wii Fit Boards to find my Mii's trainer, a pale-skinned man with a soft voice. I find him in a mirrored room with matted floors and ask him how my Mii's strength training is coming along. As he finishes up a set of side planks, he tells me he hasn't seen my Mii in about a week.

I was only a little surprised but still disappointed. That the Wii Fit trainer hadn't seen my Mii in a week certainly isn't concrete evidence my Mii is taking steroids, but what else could it be?

It's Friday morning and I'm plotting my next course of action. I think a confrontation is unavoidable now and I want to get to my Mii before Selena Roberts does. There are some shady Miis parading along the Wii mall, including a spiky-haired miscreant I have no recollection of seeing before. I'm sure he's involved somehow.

I'm hoping this is all untrue. It's been said, when you start digging, all you get is dirty. I'm willing to scrape a little dirt away from underneath my fingernails if it means Wii Baseball's reputation as a clean league remains intact.

I Just Don't Get The NHL Trade Deadline Hype

Tim Parent — Thu, 05 Mar 2009 19:54:21 -0500

I woke up Wednesday morning with a stiff back and the lingering effects of few stiff drinks the night prior.

Bleary-eyed, I stumbled to the bathroom to rid the system of the aforementioned alcohol and then in to the kitchen for a bowl of Bran Flakes because if it's good enough for Will Shatner, then it's damn well good enough for me! My bowels seem to appreciate it, too.

With rivulets of milk streaming down my chin from the first spoonful of cereal, I made my way downstairs where I fumbled with three remotes in a pathetic attempt to get the TV turned on. After a few difficult minutes, a mass of muttered profanity and some spilled flakes of bran, I managed to press the power button and was immediately greeted by police tape and a gruesome murder scene. I love A&E!

Still, at 8:03 in the morning, the dulcet tones of Bill Curtis is not what I want to hear.

I manouvre through the channels and land on TSN where James Duthie, Bob McKenzie, Darren Dreger, and Pierre McGuire are eagerly gabbing away, anxious for the day to get going, eyes glancing at silent Blackberries waiting for them to start buzzing like bumblebees.

My Blackberry is quiet, too, but that's because I haven't charged it and it's resting in peace in my jacket pocket. Even if there was some battery life left, I'm almost positive I wouldn't be getting any calls from hockey "insiders", brokering in speculation and rumor.

As it is, if I wasn't on vacation, I wouldn't have even bothered with Canada's unofficial holiday because I just don't get it. The waiting, the anticipation, the hype; the day just fails to live up to it, like the time when I was six years old and I asked a mall Santa for a Star Wars AT-AT Walker only to discover, Christmas morn, he left me a couple of packs of socks and underwear.

Perhaps that makes me a bad hockey fan, but so be it. I'm comfortable with the moniker because, in the grand scheme of things, what happens in March may or may not have an impact in the playoffs.

Take last year's event, when Marian Hossa was the big prize in the rental player sweepstakes. The GM's from several teams were drooling over the Slovakian like a starving dog teased with a juicy steak. In the end he joined the Pittsburgh Penguins, who gave up far too much for him and failed in their bid to win another Stanley Cup.

There are some who say it was a worthwhile deal because the Pens did made it to the final. I say, so what? If they had hoisted the Cup and sipped from its silver beauty, if the fans had been treated to a half-day off work for a festive black, white, and yellow confetti-filled parade extravaganza, then I'd perhaps agree with you.

What you've got the ask yourself is, where is Hossa now? Out with a bruised knee and a stiff neck, yes, but he's playing for the team that beat the Penguins in the Finals last year.

And therein lies the rub. All the hype of last year's trade deadline, all that anticipation and hand wringing, and the prize catch slips away like that small mouth bass I almost reeled in. Big as a house that fish was, but I digress...

Instead, the Detroit Red Wings are laughing all the way to the finals, perhaps again this season, and if you'll notice, the Wings made no moves this trade deadline day. They didn't really need to.

At about 8:47, I peeled myself off the couch. I'd had my fill of the TSN gang and the deadline day. I headed off to the washroom, secure in the knowledge I wasn't really missing anything, anxiously awaiting only the playoffs and fully aware the bran flakes were doing what they needed to do.

Alex Rodriguez and the Death of Baseball

Tim Parent — Sat, 28 Feb 2009 14:07:55 -0500

In 1998, all the sporting world was riding a tidal wave of enthusiasm, a tsunami of sheer enjoyment brought on by the two earthquakes of Major league Baseball, Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa.

The home run record chase was in full swing and, ultimately, both men would surpass Roger Maris' record of 61 although McGwire would win the crown, dinging a total 70 homers over Sosa's 66.

It was baseball's high water mark and it would be some time before the waters would recede especially when, only three years later, Barry Bonds would break the record again with a staggering 73 home runs.

But soon, those waters would recede and the truth of the home run record was revealed in the flotsam and jetsam left behind: pills, syringes and the stink of deceit and hidden truths.

McGwire has never been admitted to taking performance-enhancing drugs nor has he been convicted of using a banned substance although Jose Canseco has said he personally injected McGwire with steroids.

Sosa stood in front of Congress and claimed he did not take steroids. Still, he never strayed far from his prepared statements and managed to avoid questions from the eager Congressmen looking to point blame at the downfall of America's pastime.

Bonds, the face of the scandal, is facing several counts of making false statements that he denied knowingly taking illegal performance-enhancing drugs.

Despite all of the allegations and charges, baseball stood a chance of recovering from this latest blow to its image. Ironically, it was the home run race that saved it from the lock-out season of 1994.

This time, it was the Mitchell Report that promised a rebirth for the sport. The report exposed the full extent of steroid transgressions. Commissioner Bud Selig called it, "...a call to action. And I will act." All he needed was something to renew fans interest in the game, something that would stop them from questioning the game and start enjoying it once again.

What Selig didn't know at the time was that it was too late for baseball. The final nail had already been hammered in to its coffin on the day Alex Rodriguez first injected himself with a performance-enhancing substance, back in 2001.

A-Rod was baseball's saving grace, given the mantle years ago by his agent, Scott Boras, in his free-agent evaluation. He threw around names like "Michelangelo" and phrases like, "Yes, Alex Rodriguez can save baseball." It earned him a 10-year, 252-million dollar contract with the Texas Rangers.

The pressure of the monumental contract is, apparently, what prompted A-Rod to turn to drugs. In his interview with ESPN just days after news broke of his steroid transgressions from 2001 to 2003, A-Rod says he, " ... wanted to prove to everyone that I was worth being one of the greatest players of all times."

He was certainly on his way to being that, already a five-time All-Star when Texas came calling. Over the years, both with the Rangers and the New York Yankees, he proved himself time and again on the field, winning the American League Player of the Year award three times, in '03, '05 and '07.

The stigma of steroid use, however, calls in to question all that he has accomplished. A-Rod claims he has been clean since arriving in New York but it's important to note that he has lied before. In a 2007 interview with Katie Couric, he denied taking any performance-enhancers. Having been caught in one lie calls in to question all of his other truths.

Also, if the pressure of a 10-year, $252-million contract prompted him to turn to steroids, how is he dealing with the pressure of a 10-year, $275-million contract agreed to in December of 2007 with the Yankees?

There were 104 other players who were found to have been taken steroids during the 2003 drug testing that ultimately nailed A-Rod but none of the others on that list are of A-Rod's calibre. As Sports Illustrated pointed out in its Feb. 16 issue, he is the latest and greatest to fall.

Unfortunately for Major League Baseball, it was hedging its bets with A-Rod and the New York Yankees of 2009. It was hoping Rodriguez, coupled with CC Sabathia and other big league signings in the offseason, as well as a sparkling new Yankee Stadium, would result in a resurgence for the team and for the league.

If the Yankees are doing well, baseball is doing well and this was supposed to be the year of the turnaround for MLB, when the steroid scanda—like the '94 lock-out—would be forgotten, like a passing summer storm that blows down a few trees but

Instead, any time A-Rod takes to the plate, fans will question if he's on the juice. From ballpark to ballpark across North America, the fans that still remain will boo A-Rod like they booed Barry Bonds. That A-Rod left a preseason game with his cousin, the man who got him the performance-enhancing drugs in the first place, certainly doesn't help his cause or baseball's.

And so, in the end, it will be baseball that will suffer and wilt. It's glory will never be recaptured if athletes like A-Rod continue to swing a bat. At best, baseball is a Frankenstein monster, eager for acceptance but met only by angry villagers brandishing torches.

If baseball wants to rise again, to be reborn, it must accept and embrace the fact that baseball supermen do not exist; that it is not the size of the body or the power behind the bat that matters, but the content of the character of the man swinging in. It must give back the home run title to Roger Maris and it must condemn and severely punish the cheaters that have turned the sport into a hollow shell of its former glory.

It is the only way to win back the confidence of the fans. Otherwise, baseball will drown under a wave of scorn and ridicule, leaving it well and truly dead. And good riddance.

Passionless Montreal Canadiens Bringing About Their Own Demise

Tim Parent — Thu, 26 Feb 2009 17:59:46 -0500

In what was supposed to be a year full of pomp and promise; hope and glory; history and hysteria, the Montreal Canadiens have failed to deliver.

Flashes of brilliance are not enough to push you ahead in fits and spurts, hoping other teams will falter at the right moment. It may propel you to the first round but it's a guarantee you'll sputter out long before game 7 is reached.

Fans have been quick to judge to the Habs, to point fingers at the under-achievers, to call for the head of the coach and demand top quality trades from the GM. It is their prerogative to do so but the blame game can not single out only Alex Kovalev or Carey Price or Georges Laraque.

The entire team has flushed away this season, from the captain on down the lines and it has nothing to do with stopping every shot, killing every power play or capitalizing on every chance.

It has to do with passion: passion for the game, passion for the team and, in the case of the Canadiens, passion for the history of this storied club.

When you look back at the icons of hockey, you are drawn to names like Maurice "Rocket" Richard, Jean Beliveau, Jacques Plante and Guy Lafleur, all men who have proudly worn the CH.

Each played with a fire that burned deep in their bellies, a passion that can easily be seen in any photograph of the "Rocket"; the cold-eyed certainty, the sheer determination and dedication. It is hockey fury in still life and in black and white.

Gentleman Jean Beliveau, who played 20 seasons in Montreal with a Stanley Cup ring for every finger as jeweled proof. His name appears on the trophy a staggering 17 times, a testiment to his dedication to this club and should stand as a beacon to all who dream of a landing a rental player to help them all drink champagne out of the Cup.

They were legends in their day and remain so to this very day. All of them -- Lafleur, Plante, Robinson, Gainey -- understood what it meant to be a Canadien, to wear the logo that is sacrosanct to believers and non-believers alike. Nothing unites the city of Montreal like the hockey team that represents it.

It seems more and more unlikely, in a decade or two, that Montreal fans will cherish the memories of Saku Koivu and Alex Kovalev, or Carey Price and Christopher Higgins. Even the questionable judgment of the Kostitsyn brothers will be long forgotten, being a footnote in a dismal stretch of lifelessness.

Earlier this year, Kovalev lamented "off-ice distractions" such as the 100th anniversary celebrations. Perhaps it added pressure to this squad, an additional burden to carry knowing expectations are so high.

But the same pressure was put on the shoulders of Richard and Beliveau, Lafleur and Dryden and Robinson. Instead of complaining, they carried the load, understanding the demands of the rabid fans and meeting their expectations with a flick of the wrist or a blistering slap-shot. For those that have gone before, it was never a burden but a torch that all Habs players, past, present and future, are expected to carry.

Until this current team realizes that, until the roster begins playing with the passion this team feeds on, it will be many long seasons before another banner is hoisted to the rafters.

New York Yankees Bail Out Ford Motor Co. [Satire]

Tim Parent — Fri, 26 Dec 2008 08:21:32 -0500

After constructing a new $1.3 billion stadium and doling out another $423 million to three players, the New York Yankees have agreed to purchase the Ford Motor Co.

The financial terms of the deal have yet to be released, but insiders estimate the sale was priced at upwards of $9 billion.

In a statement released to the press, Yankees president Randy Levine confirmed the Bronx Bombers had purchased the ailing American carmaker, noting the shared history of these two organizations was key to the final sale.

"The New York Yankees were first established in 1901 and started playing ball in New York in 1903, the same year the Ford Motor Co. was born," said Levine.

"In the last 105 years, both the Yankees and Ford have become integral parts of the American experience and culture. We just managed our money a little better."

News of the sale came as a shock to Chrysler and GM, both automakers having to rely on a government handout in order to stay competitive in a tough automotive division. In recent years, the heavy hitters in the auto industry have been based in Japan.

"Had we known the Yankees were considering a foray into the automotive industry, we would have flown our private jets to New York instead of Washington," responded CEOs Robert Nardell and Richard Wagoner of Chrysler and GM, respectively.

A few short weeks ago, Ford was part of the Big Three contingent to beg for money from Congress or risk going under, putting tens of thousands of people out of work and throwing American institutions into the dumpster.

In mid-December, however, Ford backed out of the proposed bailout package, preventing government fingers from paging through the company's financial records and business plans.

Ford had still wanted a $9 billion line of credit from the feds, as well as an additional $5 billion from the Energy Department program. It's unknown if Ford has since pulled the plug on that proposition based on what the Yankees may have offered instead.

The Yankees have been playing fast and loose with the budget. It has all but completed construction on its new Yankee Stadium at a cost of $1.3 billion.

Since the beginning of December, the Yankees have secured the rights to heavyweight pitcher CC Sabathia for $161 million, pitcher A.J. Burnett for $82 million, and slugger Mark Teixeira for $180 million. The Yankees have committed more money to those three players than the other 29 teams have all offseason.

The Ford Motor Co. has been down on its luck for some time now, losing American drivers to Japanese carmakers Toyota and Honda. Ford also has an unfortunate number of acronyms associated with the brand, such as First Out Race Day, Found On Road Dead, and Fixed Or Repaired Daily.

The New York Yankees, by contrast, are the most celebrated and successful team in baseball despite being dubbed the "Evil Empire" by its critics, notably Boston Red Sox fans.

The statement by Levine did not address the negative associations with the Ford brand, instead focusing on the positives.

"Ford has a wonderful history of great cars, from the Mustang to the Focus. We welcome such names alongside the likes of Ruth, Gehrig, and DiMaggio."

To celebrate the deal, Ford plans to release a 2009 Mustang "Pinstripe Edition," a white, two-door coupe with Yankee pinstripes that will retail for close to $250,000. The hefty price tag is to help the Yankees cover operating costs for what promises to be an expensive year in the Bronx.

The deal with Ford also means players, front office staff, and anyone else associated with the team will have to get rid of their Cadillac Escalades and other luxury vehicles not manufactured by Ford.

Following the announcement, rumors began to circulate out of Detroit that GM and Chrysler are reconsidering the government's $17.4 billion offer and are speaking to other teams about possible associations.

The Detroit Lions: A Better Team Than The Oakland Raiders

Tim Parent — Tue, 09 Dec 2008 09:20:36 -0500

In any given Sunday and on every Thanksgiving Thursday, there's a good chance the Detroit Lions are going to lose.

With three games left in the regular season against the Indianapolis Colts, New Orleans Saints, and the Green Bay Packers, the Lions stand a pretty good chance of going 0-16.

Only one other team has managed to go without a win all season: the 1976 Tampa Bay Buccaneers. After 32 years, that team appears poised to finally hand over the loser crown to the Lions of 2008.

Lions may be the kings of the jungle but on the gridiron, the roar is but a purr.

It's not for lack of trying, though, as witnessed last Sunday when the Lions played host to the Minnesota Vikings. Not once did the Lions commit a turnover, twice they went for it on 4th-and-1 and twice they failed, and the Vikings QB even left in the first half. Nothing can stop this team from losing.

If you go by just their record, Detroit is the worst team this season. By no means though are they as bad the Oakland Raiders.

The Raiders are 3-10 so far this season, continuing a tradition that has seen the team secure no more than five wins in the last five seasons.

Last Thursday, Oakland was soundly defeated by the Chargers, which allowed the loss column to hit double digits.

Again, going by just the win-loss record, the Raiders appear a better team than the lowly Lions.

Dig a little deeper in to the numbers, though, and you get a somewhat clearer portrait.

Statistics show Detroit is averaging 16.8 points a game whereas Oakland averages only 13.8 points. Average offensive yardage also gives Detroit the edge at 261.3 compared to Oakland's 255.6.

Defensively, Oakland is a much better team, which is why the Raiders have three wins compared to Detroit's goose egg.

It's still a little foggy, but it does allow Raider Nation to highlight the defensive rankings and the team's record and say, "Really? Detroit is better?"

Let's put the numbers aside and level the playing field with the one game element that can not be calculated using statistics—heart. It's the one thing every NFL team must have in order for all of this to mean something. If you're missing that, don't even bother showing up.

This is where Detroit manhandles Oakland.

Detroit Lions running back Rudi Johnson understands the magnitude of what this team is facing; the humility of the game and the humiliation all the Lions will feel should they go winless this season.

In a blog posted on the team's website, Johnson called it "crunch time," noting they were running out of both options and time.

The team understands it has made many mistakes this season and yet, they still hit the gym, watch the tapes, watch the tapes again...and again, and do all they can to prepare for their next opponent.

Oakland, on the other hand, has given up.

After a lopsided 34-7 loss to the Charges, several Raiders players could be heard laughing and kidding around in the dressing room after the game, not the kind of atmosphere one would expect when your division rivals have handed you your own backside.

It did not go unnoticed by some players like cornerback Nnamdi Asomugha who questioned whether his teammates even gave a damn.

Tom Cable noticed, too, but, for the most part, dismissed it. He held a team meeting on Friday and then gave the players the rest of the weekend off instead of preparing them for the New England Patriots.

Oakland is a team that has lost its will, it's heart having stopped beating a few games back, perhaps even a few seasons back, and it's going to take a lot more than a couple of chest compressions to bring it back to life.

Detroit, at least, looks at every game as a challenge. Every game is a chance to get out of the dungeon and leave the loser crown in the hands of the '76 Bucs.

Even if they don't win this season, the players should be comforted by the fact that they at least they tried their very best, which is more than can be said for the Oakland Raiders.

Montreal Canadiens State-Of-The-Art Practice Rink May Help Lure Talent

Tim Parent — Mon, 08 Dec 2008 13:18:41 -0500

The Champlain Bridge is one of four major bridges linking Montreal to its south shore. As you cruise along highway 10 for about five to 10 minutes, you'll stumble upon cookie cutter house developments, condos, and townhouses that all look very similar except for the cars in the driveways.

A kilometer after that, a stone's throw from an outdoor massive shopping complex in the town of Brossard, Quebec, you'll come across a non-descript building of concrete, glass and brick, appearing as if it was abandoned in the field that surrounds it, sticking out like a sore thumb.

Under its roof, however, another chapter in the storied history of the Montreal Canadiens is being written.

Welcome to the Complex Sportif Bell, the Habs' home away from home. At a cost of $36 million, the facility is truly state-of-the-art, perhaps the best practice facility in all of the NHL. It may be even the best rink, too, if tough-guy Georges Laraque is to be believed.

The facility boasts not only two regulation size rinks, but also a soccer pitch. It's almost identical in every way to the Bell Center, from the height of the boards and the glass, to the Zamboni entrance, even the advertising on the boards is virtually the same.

It's behind the scenes, however, that has the Habs' crushing on their new digs like a giddy, teenage girl.

There is a gym and a trainer's room, along with a bigger and fully equipped players lounge and dressing room. For strengthening and conditioning, there are a couple of hot tubs and a pool that allows players to swim against the current, ensuring a quick fix for an injured player.

That alone may help this team lure some quality free agents to the city, which is much needed support as the Canadiens struggle somewhat during this centennial season. The Canadiens are one of the few teams that have not had their own practice facility and with all they've done with their first, it's an appealing piece of the puzzle for any free agent looking at prospective teams. The fact that the facility has been built in the heart of a budding community, with schools and shopping nearby, is just icing on the cake.

With some Habs' faltering in the last few weeks, namely Alex Kovalev and a few others, there is some interesting trade fodder out there, too. Clearing away some of the dead wood frees up some salary cap space and allows GM Bob Gainey to bring in top-notch talent that will want to play here.

When you spare no expense, people notice. Players notice, too. The Complex Sportif Bell is proof positive that this is a team that wants to be contenders, anxious to raise to the rafters of the Bell Center a 25th Stanley Cup banner.

The road there, however, leads through Brossard, Quebec.

Can We Get a Bleacher Report Bowl Over Here?

Tim Parent — Mon, 08 Dec 2008 02:48:36 -0500

As a kid, I woke up to a brand new year with the Rose Bowl. I didn't actually watch the game, but I remember it was a staple of New Year's Day, just like the ham my mom always cooked on that day, part of a sizable feast to start the next 365 days off right.

I also recall the Orange Bowl, which took place on the same day in Florida. Again, I was far too preoccupied with squashing goombahs with Mario's feet to watch the game, but I loved the idea of the Orange Bowl and Rose Bowl, tangible symbols that marked a new year.

Checking out the 2008-09 Bowl schedule, I haven't got a clue what game is what. It's as if my mom started serving hot dogs on New Year's.

I admit, I'm not a college football fan, but I used to know the various bowl games: the aforementioned Rose and Orange bowls; the Sugar Bowl; the Fiesta Bowl.

Now, there's the EagleBank Bowl. EagleBank, according to its Web site:

"...is a local community business bank with fifteen offices in Montgomery County, MD, Northern Virginia and Washington, DC. The bank focuses on providing superior customer service and custom financial solutions for the local business community. EagleBank also offers a complete line of competitive personal banking products and services."

That's good to know, should I ever start banking in the greater Washington, D.C. area, but there's no real link to college football, is there? I have to presume in its business plan, EagleBank does not include a section indicating..."in conjunction with quality banking products, EagleBank is dedicated to bringing a Bowl game to Washington. Oh, and also mortgages!"

The Rose Bowl was given its name after the Tournament of Roses parade that began in 1890 in Pasadena. In 1902, in order to boost tourism, Tournament president James Wagner offered up $3,500 to cover the cost of shipping the University of Michigan and Stanford University football clubs to Pasadena for a game. The rest is history.

At the very least, it would appear Wagner was a college football fan. EagleBank is just sponsoring the event, which makes it seem like a greedy cash grab in order to drum up business at EagleBank. In this day and age, it's not a shocker, but it does seem kinda dirty. We'll all need to hit the showers after the game is over.

The same goes for other bowl games, like San Diego County Credit Union Poinsettia Bowl, which just doesn't roll off the tongue like, say, the Fiesta Bowl, which is fun to say. Fiesta Bowl! Now, try the saying the cumbersome San Diego County Credit Union Poinsettia Bowl. Just a tad stuffy, huh?

Anything with more than six syllables should be disqualified from Bowl contention. Even if you call it the Poinsettia Bowl, the official, dull, and difficult name remains in all the books.

Then there's the Sheraton Hawaii Bowl, which is a less-than-subtle attempt by the hotel chain to tell fans, "Hey, if you're checking out the Hawaii Bowl, why not stay at the beautiful Sheraton Hawaii, where we offer seven resorts on the most beautiful beaches in the most beautiful islands on Earth, the Hawaiian islands?"

Did they mention it was beautiful?

Even the Rose Bowl and Orange Bowl are no longer the Rose Bowl and Orange Bowl. It's now "The Rose Bowl Game Presented by Citibank," a company which can't even keep its own affairs in order and is looking at New York City taxpayers to help 'em out with naming rights to the Mets' new stadium.

The Orange Bowl is the FedEx Orange Bowl. Make the right choice—choose FedEx! Oh, and feel free to choose Cincinnati or Virginia Tech at the same time, 'cause we don't really care.

Corporate greed is what drives the revenue behind sports these days, and unfortunately, that's the way it's gotta be for now. It has to be a bummer for the hardcore fans of the bowl games, too, those who have been watching for decades, to see it reduced to this.

It's time to take the naming rights back from the corporate suits and give it to the fans, those in the know. Perhaps as Bleacher Report grows in popularity, a pitch can be made by the powers-that-be to have a bowl game named after the site, where some of the most rabid college football fans hang out.

It would be great to wake up on Jan. 1 to the smell of ham wafting through my parents' home and the Bleacher Report Bowl on the tube. You can bet I'd put down my Nintendo controller to tune in.

The Sean Avery Sloppy Seconds Conspiracy Theory

Tim Parent — Wed, 03 Dec 2008 07:42:53 -0500

Alright kids, time to strap on the ol' tinfoil hat as we explore this whole Sean Avery sloppy seconds affair.

Let's begin...

First off, if any guy denies ever uttering the words "sloppy seconds," he's lying only because he probably yelled it out during some frat party in order to mock a buddy or said it while drunk at the office Christmas party.

It's a derogatory term, sure, but when you got a bunch of guys in a room (re: locker room), you can bet somewhere in the topic of conversation, the term "sloppy seconds" has come up. "Douche-bag" is another term that has likely been sprinkled in to the same conversation.

Shakespeare they are not.

It's fair to say Avery had probably used those words behind closed doors prior to announcing to the world his less-than-erudite observation about his former girlfriend.

It's even more likely that someone who doesn't particularly enjoy the company of Avery (re: the NHL and every person affiliated with it), probably heard him speak rather poorly of his former girlfriend, Elisha Cuthbert, and her current relationship with Dion Phaneuf of the Calgary Flames; covertly spilled the beans to the burly defenseman.

If Mr. Phaneuf is a gentleman, he would likely want to defend the honor of Ms. Cuthbert. I presume it started with a phone call that went something like this:

SA: Hello?

DP: Avery, it's Dion.

SA: Hey, man, how's it going? Enjoying the sloppy seconds?

DP: You should probably stop saying that.

SA: Why's that, tough guy? Sloppy seconds! Sloppy seconds! HA!

DP: I'm bigger than you Avery.

SA: OOOhhh, I'm scared!

DP: You should be. You boys are in Calgary on Tuesday. Keep your head up.

*CLICK*

Or something to that effect.

But maybe, just maybe, Avery WAS scared. He may be a blowhard, but you have to assume that as the Stars boarded the plane to Calgary, he realized he'd crossed a line with Phaneuf, who was willing to take the game misconduct if it meant smearing Avery's pretty-boy face in to the boards at the Saddledome.

Not too many people would be upset with that, especially Ms. Cuthbert, who would witness her man protecting her B-list movie star status. It would be a win-win for Phaneuf.

Also, Avery has been known to irk Jerome Iginla, captain of the Flames, so you can bet Iginla would be willing to drop the gloves.

That was probably a long flight for Avery, the wheels in his head turning faster than the jet engines zooming the team to Calgary, and his eyes darting through the NHL rule book looking for something that would keep him out of the game.

In the end, he came up with the perfect solution that would allow him to keep his face intact, ensuring another summer internship at Vogue magazine.

Spout off to the media.

It was a move brilliant in its simplicity. When doesn't Avery do something that catches the attention of hockey reporters across North America?

So, instead of keeping the "sloppy seconds" talk behind closed doors, he brought it out in front of the cameras for all the world to hear, knowing that he'd get in trouble for seeking out the media.

It's alarming how fast NHL commissioner Gary Bettman moved on a suspension. However, Bettman was probably thinking he, too, didn't want to see an Avery bloodbath. It doesn't look good for the league.

In the end, Phaneuf lost his chance to destroy Avery, and Avery got time off to work on his screenplay for New Line Cinema about his penchant for men's fashion.

Maybe someone should let Avery know that tinfoil hats are all the rage these days.

The Boston Bruins Are a Much Better Team 84 Years Later

Tim Parent — Mon, 01 Dec 2008 09:06:24 -0500

Those who live in Boston are likely familiar with Matthews Arena, a.k.a Boston Arena, now a part of Northeastern University. It is home to the Northeastern Huskies men's and women's hockey teams, as well as the school's basketball team.

84 years ago, December 1st, 1924, the Boston Bruins in their black and gold, skated on to the arena's ice to play three periods against the Montreal Maroons.

Hockey had come to America for the first time.

The two expansion teams played a good 60 minutes of hockey, with the Bruins ultimately winning hockey's debut match in the U.S. 2-1.

The remainder of the season, however, did not favor the expansion Bruins. Boston finished with a lowly 6-24 record, dead last in the division.

A lot has changed in 84 years though.

The Boston Bruins are coming off of a superb November that has made them perhaps the biggest threat in the Eastern Conference and early Stanley Cup contenders. They wrapped up November with a win over the defending Cup champions, the Detroit Red Wings, to end the month with an 11-1-1 record, five more wins than the '24 Bruins managed to earn all season.

That has put the Bruins in a first place tie in the East, alongside another original six team, the New York Rangers.

Boston finds itself in this position because the team is firing on all cylinders, particularly it's powerplay unit, ranked third in the league. Say what you will, capitalizing on your chances is what wins hockey games.

Boston's defense is hitting hard and clearing the zone. Offensively, Phil Kessel has cracked the league's top 10 scorers, netting 13 so far this season. Boston's goaltenders, Tim Thomas and Manny Fernandez, have also been stellar. When you're a coach in the NHL, having two top goalies is a problem you want to have.

There are several months of hockey left to play, however, and fate is a fickle mistress. Tempting her serves only to undermine the cause, and captain Zdeno Chara has done just that.

Following the win over Detroit, Chara proclaimed the Bruins can beat anybody in the league. While that may be true, temperance is the better part of desire, and humility prevents the instigators from leveling your best. It's a new league, but sometimes old habits die hard.

Regardless, for now, the Bruins are charging like a raging grizzly, whereas 84 years ago, the best the Bruins could muster was Yogi Bear. It was an inauspicious start for hockey in America but in 2008, the sport is alive and well in several American markets and, this season, Boston is leading the way.

Three Jerseys Is Two Too Many for the NHL

Tim Parent — Sun, 30 Nov 2008 13:00:11 -0500

My father is a marketer's dream.

He is easily seduced by new packaging. Growing up, he would regularly bring home boxes of who-knows-what, impressed by a certain look or design or package or collector's tin. If it was new, and it was a brand he was loyal to, it found a place in the pantry.

If my father collected NHL jerseys, he'd be forced to declare bankruptcy.

I've lost count of how many third jerseys have been unveiled to the NHL-buying public, but it's getting ridiculous.

In the last week, the Boston Bruins have taken to the ice in their new jerseys, as have the Phoenix Coyotes and Los Angeles Kings. The Montreal Canadiens have a whack of jerseys ready to go, part of the team's centennial celebrations.

Other teams getting a NEW! or a NEW AND IMPROVED! third jersey this season include:

Atlanta
Chicago
Dallas
Buffalo
Edmonton
Carolina
Philadelphia
New York Islanders
Pittsburgh
Ottawa
Tampa Bay
San Jose
St. Louis

Not to sound like a grumpy ol' grandpa but there was a time where an NHL team had one logo; one single, solitary emblem. The jersey it was stitched to came in two patterns: home and away, the colors reversed.

It's possible people were wearing onions on their belts (which was the style at the time) and walked ten miles to school, in waist-high drifts of snow, but I digress ...

What's particularly insulting is many of the so-called third jerseys are not new, just throwbacks to older designs. If you're going to try and sell me an official jersey at $299.99 dollars and more, just because it has the retro look, then why did you change the design in the first place?

I liked the Buffalo Sabres old logo and jersey colors logo but the team changed it. Now you want to sell me the jersey you guys wore in 1983 at 2008 prices? Nerts to you!

The Tampa Bay Lightning has gone so far as to have even changed its name! The new third jersey has no logo, but a stylized, diagonal BOLTS crossing the fabric.

Tampa Bay has chosen to go with the name LIGHTNING, not BOLTS! That only works with, and in, Montreal, where the Canadiens are also called the Habs. When Tampa Bay has 24 Stanley Cups under the belt, we'll talk.

Boston doesn't need a logo variant. The "B" in the wagon-wheel is one of those logos that has stood the test of time, just like the Detroit Red Wings (which doesn't have a third jersey, by the way). Hey, Boston, I know a bruin is a bear. You don't need to put a bear on your jersey.

If the NHL and its teams believe that the creation of a third jersey will lure new fans to the game, it won't. It's time the league focus on its history and not just by trying to sell a jersey with an Edmonton Oilers jersey circa 1985. Instead, sell me on the story of Wayne Gretzky and what he did while wearing that jersey.

My dad may be a sucker for a spiffy design but I'm not going to fall for it.

Ryan O'Byrne: Not the Goat in Canadiens' Woes

Tim Parent — Mon, 24 Nov 2008 23:48:34 -0500

When things are going wrong, things always seem to get worse.

For the Montreal Canadiens, things have been going wrong and got worse on Monday night.

Ahead 3-2 in the third period, a delayed penalty call against New York Islanders winger Sean Bergenheim went unnoticed by Ryan O'Byrne. With Doug Weight pressuring the young Montreal defenseman on the forecheck, O'Byrne decided to dump the puck to goalie Carey Price.

Thing is, Price was aware there was a delayed penalty call and had already skated to the bench.

The rest, as they say, is history.

The puck sailed across the goal line and like that, the Islanders were back in it.

So was the crowd, all 21,273 strong, who made sure O'Byrne was aware they weren't happy with him. The boos lasted for a long time after the goal which sent the game in to overtime and then to a shootout, which ultimately went to the Islanders. Cue the sad trombone.

It was an unfortunate end to an unfortunate game, lost on an unfortunate goal.

What was most unfortunate, however, was the fan reaction to O'Byrne's misfire.

It's obvious those at the Bell Center, and the thousands watching at home, have forgotten their Sesame Street, when Big Bird apologetically sings "Everyone Makes Mistakes."

"Oh everyone makes mistakes, oh yes they do! Your sister and your brother and your dad and mother, too!"

And Ryan O'Byrne as well. It was a lapse in judgment that couldn't have come at a worse time, with the Canadiens are faltering during what is supposed to be a storybook year for the team.

Fans have been looking for a goat and have found it in O'Byrne. He is now their lightning rod and will have endure bolt after bolt of anger and frustration.

It's unfair, however, to boo O'Byrne mercilessly. It was obvious, as the puck drifted to the goal, that O'Byrne knew exactly what was about to happen. He cupped his hands to his head as the goal light went on. He was inconsolable after the game. He made a mistake and admitted it; that should be enough. Time to move on to the next game.

Besides, if you're going to boo O'Byrne, then you best prepare your diaphragm to holler at Christopher Higgins, who seems to have forgotten how to check an opponent.

Or how about Alex Kovalev, who seems to have forgotten what to do with the puck?

What about the entire power play unit, which has been as limp as an 80-year-old man who forgot to refill his Viagra prescription?

O'Byrne's goal isn't the only gaffe for the Canadiens. The entire team needs an enema, to flush out the bad and bring back the good. Fortunately, there's still enough time left in the season to do just that.

The loss against the Islanders, the result of scoring on their own net, is probably the lowest the team has been this season. The upside of being down, however, is that you can only go up, which is the best way for the Habs to silence the boos at the Bell Center.

The Number 33: Strange Truths That Have Nothing to Do With Patrick Roy

Tim Parent — Sat, 22 Nov 2008 06:46:29 -0500

On most nights, Patrick Roy made it look easy.

His style and grace between the pipes helped the Montreal Canadiens win two Stanley Cups in 1986 and 1993.

The number 33, which will be hoisted to the rafters of Bell Center Saturday night, has a unique history and some quirky facts associated with it.

Religion

the number 33 symbolizes truth (as in, the truth is, since Roy left Montreal, the Canadiens have not won a Stanley Cup)
Jesus was 33-years-old when he was crucified in the year 33 A.D. (Rejean Houle was crucified in the press for giving up Roy to Colorado for next to nothing)
Followers of Islam believe the dwellers of Heaven will exist eternally in a state of age 33 (No other Montreal Canadien will ever wear number 33 again)

Science

The atomic number of arsenic which can be a particularly potent poison (much like the relationship between Roy and Mario Tremblay)

History

The Giza pyramid, Chephren, is 33 feet higher than the other two pyramids (Roy's goaltending records have elevated him to level nearly unattainable by other goaltenders)
Michelangelo was 33-years-old when he began painting the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel (Michel is Roy's father's name; number 33 will be hoisted to the ceiling of the Bell Center)

Some things to consider when watching the Montreal Canadiens retire Patrick Roy's number 33.

Mats Sundin or Alex Kovalev? Decisions for the Montreal Canadiens

Tim Parent — Sat, 22 Nov 2008 00:53:35 -0500

Like the groundhog that pops up every Feb. 2 to see if it'll be startled by its shadow, Mats Sundin popped up again this week.

On Wednesday, Montreal Canadiens GM Bob Gainey had a meeting with the former Toronto Maple Leafs captain and the current unrestricted free agent. You can bet they didn't talk about tourist hot spots in Sweden.

There are still 11 teams vying for the services of Sundin, and it appears Montreal is still in that mix, despite opting for Robert Lang after the team's exclusive rights to chat with Sundin expired.

Sundin's agent, J.P. Barry, says Mats has always been a serious contender for the Habs and he plans to sit down with him in December to whittle down the list to two or three teams, presumably those with a good chance of winning a Stanley Cup.

As it stands, Montreal doesn't look at all prepared to go all the way. It's still early in the season, but when you can only manage seven goals in five games, just winning the next game supercedes the desire the win a Cup.

The timing of this meeting between Montreal and Mats is interesting but should come as no shock to any one, particularly those following the dreadful performances by the Canadiens, who have managed to steal points away from games they should have outright won.

Bob Gainey is a man always thinking several moves ahead, which is good in chess and as a GM. He has to be looking at the big picture, witnessing captain Saku Koivu, Alex Tanguay and Lang rack up points while Alex Kovalev has had dismal numbers.

To secure the service of Sundin, the Habs will have to clear some salary room. Currently, the Canadiens have about $2 million to fiddle with which isn't enough to land Mats, considering the two-year, $20 million offer from the Vancouver Canucks is still on the table.

Unloading Kovalev's $4.5 million salary and shoddy work ethic might be a option for Gainey at this point, although, as the man has proven before, no one knows how the mind of Gainey operates.

It still may not be enough to secure Sundin, if he should choose money over team. Vancouver is no slouch this season and may offer the best chance for Mats to win a Cup or, more likely, allow him to be part of an organization well on its way to being a Cup contender.

With all these meeting and discussions, however, it's clear Sundin is getting ready to make his move and not crawl back in to his burrow for another six weeks.

My Conversation with Bernie Ecclestone

Tim Parent — Wed, 19 Nov 2008 22:22:05 -0500

I didn't even look up when the phone rang shortly before noon this past Tuesday.

I was on a tight deadline, having only just returned from a news conference earlier that morning and was busy cutting audio.

If you're unaware, I'm a news reporter for CJAD radio in Montreal. I cover about two to three stories a day of varying degrees of importance. As it turns out, the phone call was the most important call of the day.

My colleague picked up the receiver and handed it over to me.

A woman with a distinct British accent was at the other of the line.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Parent. Please hold for Bernie Ecclestone."

I'd been trying to get a hold of the F1 boss for almost two months, since it was first learned Montreal would be left off of the 2009 Grand Prix schedule. It took me a better part of a week just to track down a number for the F1 head offices in London.

Once I had the number, so began an almost daily ritual of calling Bernie Ecclestone. I passed through two secretaries who diligently took my name and number each and every time, even though the annoyance was clearly evident in their voices.

But finally, Ecclestone called back.

Before I could even register my shock, he was on the phone.

The interview went extremely well in that he was very candid and honest with his answers as to why Montreal lost the race. He struck me as being very laid back, like a Jamaican beach bum relaxing in the Caribbean sun.

Not to say there weren't flashes of anger and frustration, particularly when I asked him about claims made by Montreal mayor Gerald Tremblay, Quebec's economic minister Raymond Bachand, and former federal industry minister Michel Fortier that Ecclestone's demands were "unreasonable."

"Unreasonable compared to what? We do business worldwide and nobody else thinks we're unreasonable."

"I told them, I said you can come to my office, pull any contract out of our drawer for all the overseas races and take any one of them, cross out the name and put your name and that's what we'll do because what we offered them was less than what we get anywhere else in the world."

In his words, the Canadian Grand Prix was yanked because the race promoter, Normand Legault, defaulted on his contract payment obligations for the last three years, to the tune of $24 million.

"Normand forgot to pay us what he should have paid...had he paid us, we would have continued racing."

He was willing to write off the debt, even though he said that's something the F1 doesn't normally do, provided the city and government signed off on the new deal and guaranteed the money would be paid by them or a reliable promoter.

When I asked Ecclestone what he was asking, he refused to give me the numbers.

"Well, they have the contract, and unlike them, I don't discuss these things."

It was clear he was disappointed the Montreal delegation made public the contract details at a news conference this past weekend, which showed F1 wanted $175 million over the next five years.

The city of Montreal, along with the provincial and federal governments, would only guarantee $110 million plus a percentage of the net profits.

So, what needs to be done to save the Grand Prix in Montreal? The simple answer is: Agree to his terms.

Ecclestone told me, however, that had Legault paid what was owed, the contract would've been honored and the city wouldn't find itself in this position.

He did say he loves Montreal, all of F1 loves Montreal, and he'd like to see it back some day but after my near seven-minute interview, it was clear the race was done for 2009.

The merchants of Montreal aren't giving up so easily. A last-ditch pitch is being made by business leaders to the F1 car manufacturers such as Honda, Toyota, BMW, Mercedes and Ferrari to help bail them out, either with financial backing or working as mediators between the city and the F1 to secure a new deal.

Time is running out, though, and while Ecclestone is sorry merchants stand to lose out, he says what was being offered was more than fair.

The conversation ended not long after that, and my surprise still lingers that I got the call back. Persistence pays, and you can't spell persistence without pest.

I'll remember that if I have to get Ecclestone back on the phone, should the race ever return to Montreal.

To hear my interview with Bernie Ecclestone you can click here.

A Lament for the Canadian Grand Prix

Tim Parent — Sun, 16 Nov 2008 09:24:26 -0500

In June 2002, a friend and I went down to Crescent Street in Montreal, which is the hub of Grand Prix activity when the F1 comes to town.

We sauntered over to Wanda's, a strip club about a block away from the action since we figured a 10-ten spot for the doorman would get us a seat somewhere inside.

We were led down to the dimly-lit lower level of the club and seated at a small, round table, right in front of the stage. The club was packed tighter than the silicon boobs dancing five feet away, but, surprisingly, there were three empty chairs at our table. We ordered $10 pints of beer and settled in.

About 15 minutes later, the doorman led three guys to our table and we nodded to our new companions. However, running low on the moolah, we decided to pay up and take our leave of Wanda and her dancers.

"Where are you guys going?" asked one of the new arrivals.

"The table is yours, gents," I replied, "have a good night!"

"C'mon, sit down! I just ordered a round for the five of us!"

Who were we to refuse?

And so began a night filled with champagne and strippers. As it turned out, the three were wealthy American tourists, in town for the Grand Prix with one also celebrating a birthday.

They had wads of money, literally wads of cash, and they were not shy to splurge. At one point, we had four strippers giving lap dances to four of us, the only exception being myself.

That would not do for the man running this party. He snapped his fingers, the sharp crack prompting the waitress to quickly run over. He quickly ordered for another girl to come to our table and another bottle of champagne. Both arrived promptly.

A true story and an adventure that could only happen during Grand Prix weekend in Montreal.

There will be no more stories like that, however; no wide-eyed 26-year-olds celebrating a crazy night out with rich American tourists. The Canadian Grand Prix is officially dead for 2009 and perhaps, for years to come.

A valiant effort was made to save the event, but ultimately, the mayor of Montreal as well as officials from both the federal and provincial governments admitted defeat, calling F1 boss Bernie Ecclestone's demands unreasonable.

The Quebec government was willing to fork over $110 million over the next five years, plus a whopping 75 percent of the first $10 million of profits along with 25 percent of remaining profits.

As well, the three level of governments had turned to the hotel industry in Montreal, which agreed to raise its occupancy fees that would have raised another $5 million for the F1.

It seems Ecclestone was not interested, demanding $175 million, no less.

Private promoters, including Cirque du Soleil co-founder Guy Laliberté and Montreal Canadiens owner George Gillett, were consulted but neither was willing to commit to that kind of money, calling Eccelstone's demands unreasonable.

It was a sentiment echoed by Montreal mayor Gerald Tremblay at a news conference Sunday afternoon, adding the F1 business plan doesn't make sense anymore.

It's an unfortunate end to a race that was much loved more by the fans than the drivers but still a favourite on the schedule.

In recent weeks, a few drivers noted they really enjoyed the city of Montreal but the track (Circuit Gilles Villeneuve) left something to be desired. A small detail, perhaps, because it's likely the government would have shelled out the money to fix it if necessary.

And so, in tough economic times, the city is without one of the driving forces behind the local economy. It's estimated the race brought in close to $100 million for city coffers, but the cupboard will be bare next year.

Perhaps, however, it's for the best. I never watched a Grand Prix race when they came to town but the high-pitched whine of the engines could be heard cutting through the everyday spring cacophony of a busy metropolis sending a bit of a chill down the spine.

As fun and as full of life as the city is during those three days in June, it seems an exorbitant amount of money to save a sporting event during a time when people are struggling to keep a roof over their heads or even put food on their plates.

Had the city and the government caved to Eccelstone's demands, it would send the wrong message to the people when the politicians are telling us to tighten our belts. The F1 is all about excess and right now, excess is not what is needed.

Still, we enjoyed it while we had it and who knows, maybe it'll be back someday.

At the very least, I've got a great story to tell.

A B/R Challenge: Think Outside The Box Score

Tim Parent — Tue, 11 Nov 2008 12:33:10 -0500

I just don't get college football.

ACC? Isn't that the home of the Toronto Maple Leafs?

Pac 10? Isn't that the top 10 high scores on the Pac-Man arcade machine?

I try to follow along, but college football just doesn't grab me like it does some of the others here on Bleacher.

That is not a criticism by any means. The devotion to the sport and the fantastic analysis and commentary by writers like Lisa Horne and Baby Tate have actually helped me discover the subtle nuances and cult-like devotion to the sport and challenged me to give it another go.

Admittedly, it hasn't worked so far. But I keep trying and I figure that has to count for something. Besides, it's hockey season.

And therein lies the rub. I'm throwing out a challenge to all the Bleacher Creatures who enjoy this wonderful opportunity that has allowed us to have our opinions and analysis seen.

I like to write about hockey. I'm Canadian that way. Am I an authority on the game? Not like Alan Bass, no, but as number 18 in the NHL writer rankings, I like to think I've got some clout.

I ask you all to refrain from laughing.

Anyway, we all write what we know. If you're a diehard Texas Tech supporter, you're writing about Texas Tech. If you're a disappointed Cubs fan (and who isn't?), you're wallowing in self-pity and documenting the proof here on Bleacher.

I am asking you to step outside the box score. Forget making a break for the end zone, it's time to break out of your comfort zone.

I call on those who write solely about College Football to post an article about the NHL. You're a F1 fanatic? Then give us your thoughts on the NFL season so far. You can wax poetic about Week 10, but can you weigh in on the UFC?

Do you smell what I'm cooking here?

I throw down the gauntlet to those who enjoy a good challenge. Step away from the sport you love for a few minutes and dive head first in to another. Walk a mile in a NHL skate.

It doesn't matter what you write about. But perhaps, in the headline, indicate it's the comfort zone challenge or the box score challenge.

I figure we do this for fun and get positive feedback from the community leaders about what we've written. Maybe post the stories in the BR Chatter section so we all know where to look.

I'm curious to know what Lisa thinks about the NHL or what Alan can offer in terms of a college football piece.

If you like the idea, post a note on my Bulletin Board. I'm going to take part in the experiment as well.

Good luck and good writing!

Head Shots And Hard Heads in the NHL

Tim Parent — Mon, 10 Nov 2008 14:49:03 -0500

Montreal Canadiens forward Tom Kostopoulos will spend the next three games dressed in a suit instead of suiting up for games against Ottawa, Boston and Philadelphia.

His unfortunate and ugly hit against Toronto Maple Leafs defenceman Mike Van Ryn over the weekend has resulted in a three-game suspension, handed down by the league on Monday.

It seems a fair suspension for a first offence, and in line with suspensions for other similar hits. Kostopoulos has showed remorse for his run against Van Ryn and issued an apology. Review of the play also shows Van Ryn turned briefly to look behind as the two men barrelled towards the corner, yet still turned away from the hit.

Kostopoulos should have known better—however, and even Canadiens coach Guy Carbonneau admitted the imposing forward probably could have stopped and avoided hitting Van Ryn. The hit resulted in a broken nose, a broken finger, a nasty gash on the forehead, a few missing teeth—and most seriously of all, a concussion.

The Kostopoulos hit was not dirty, just reckless—and by extension, inexcusable. The Habs' forward is no headhunter, and it's obvious he had no intention of hurting Van Ryn. Unfortunately, that's exactly what happened.

So, what to do?

It seems a simple question but there is no simple answer. If you're hoping NHL commissioner Gary Bettman has the answer, think again.

In an interview, Bettman would not be nailed down on nailing players with a head shot, saying physicality is something the fans have wanted since the return from the work stoppage. He believes, however, that eliminating any head contact will result in fewer checks and change the game.

It's a short-sighted assessment. A skilled player can level another without ever having to raise an arm, elbow, or stick to someone's skull.

A head shot or from-behind hit merits a stiffer suspension. The three-game suspension for Kostopoulos is fair, if only because it's on par with other similar incidents and it wasn't a dirty hit. There's plenty enough of those, however, and tougher suspensions will take nothing away from the game.

Bettman continued, saying while the league doesn't like head shots and the inevitable concussions that come with it, the consequences to the game have to be assessed first.

One would assume that's little comfort for Van Ryn, who is out for at least a month as doctors evaluate the extent of the concussion and allow broken bones to mend.

Again, what to do?

Hockey legend Mark Messier has a short-term solution that may change the face of the game—or, at the very least, shield it. He's advocating mandatory full-face masks.

It's a not a new suggestion by any means, but is a little more poignant in the wake of the Van Ryn hit. Messier believes face masks should be a league-wide rule, taking away the current, discretionary powers afforded to players as to whether or not they want to wear one.

Messier isn't just blowing smoke. A 2002 study published in the British Journal of Sports Medicine showed players wearing a full-face shield as opposed to a half-face shield "significantly reduced the playing time lost because of concussion, suggesting that concussion severity may be reduced by the use of a full-face shield."

Would it have made a difference in Saturday's match-up between the Habs and the Leafs? Messier can't say—but it could, conceivably, prevent another concussion in the future.

This is not an issue that will go away any time soon, nor will these kinds of hits. For the time being, it's up to each individual player to decide how best to protect themselves on the ice and there are many players who believe they shouldn't be forced to wear a face masks.

The alternative, however, could be far worse than a broken nose and busted finger. It could be a career-ender. Yet no one—not the players, the league, nor the commissioner—seems able to get that through their thick skull.