30 August, 2008

Category Archives: Other Sports

Captain Clark: “100 percent” a Go

At the onset of Labor Day weekend, it was most encouraging to see Capitals’ right wing Chris Clark in his training clothes, fresh from rigorous labor out on the Caps’ Kettler ice sheet earlier today.

Word broke about two weeks ago that the team captain had made a significant recovery from the debilitating groin injury that all but shelved his 2007-08 season. Today, I wanted a progress report from him with an eye toward his fitness after a couple of weeks of daily skating at Kettler and with an eye toward the start of training camp in three weeks.

“I have to ask you the obligatory question — you are X percent recovered today, and you believe you’ll be X percent recovered come the start of camp?” I asked.

“One hundred and one hundred,” Clark replied, with a broad smile.

Credit for Clark’s full recovery goes to Vancouver physiotherapist Rick Celebrini, who also supervised ex-Cap Brian Sutherby and his struggles with a nagging groin injury a couple of years ago. Clark will return to Vancouver this weekend, flying out Sunday and spending a couple of days with Celebrini for a final “peace of mind” checkup. But it’s already ’all systems go’ for the former 30-goaler — he has no restrictions in his August training at Kettler.

I asked Clark if he’d wished he’d gone to see Celebrini back in November, just as his injury hit, with the hopes that the celebrated specialist’s treatment might have taken hold and allowed him to return last season, most particularly for the playoff series with the Flyers.

“I thought about that, but the injury wasn’t serious, it was just slow to heal,” he said. In other words, there just wasn’t any urgency to pursue specialized treatment during the first half of the season. Clark’s injury just didn’t mend as such setbacks usually do, and the arrival of the offseason, joined by the prolonged lack of healing, dictated his traveling across the country to see the renowned physiotherapist.

This week also brought news about foreign language and pro sports — the LPGA Tour this week announced that proficiency with English would be mandatory beginning in 2009. It’s an issue that affects the NHL; in the New York Times’ account of the new ladies’ tour policy, it noted that a handful of NHL clubs had a similar requirement in their rooms. I wanted the Caps’ captain’s vantage in the matter – specifically, is English proficiency an issue in the Caps’ room? Has he as captain initiated and promulgated such a policy?

Turns out, even with a handful of English-speaking-challenged players on the Caps’ roster, there are no communications issues. Everyone on the team, Clark noted, recognizes that for the purpose of communications unity, of getting on the same page, the team has to communicate in English.

“I played in Europe, and I gravitated to guys [who spoke English],” Clark told me. “That’s always going to be the case.”

An issue could arise, Clark conceded, if the number of non-English-speaking players reached something akin to a critical mass, but the Caps now don’t have anything close to that challenge, so there is no explicit language policy, dicated by the captain or team management. Even with Alexander Semin, he noted, “he understands English well . . . once in a while, if there’s some confusion, Sergei [Fedorov] or Alex [Ovechkin] will explain something to him.”

The State of the Washington Sports Union, August 2008

We who find succor and solace in the refrigerated mustiness of rinks do enjoy the occasional night out at the old ballyard, and last night, amid yet another stunner in this greatest-ever weather in the history of Washington Augusts, two hockey bloggers enjoyed that experience at Nationals Stadium. Despite the on-field product offered there. The Sporting News’ Eric McErlain and I cracked open roasted peanuts, occasionally followed yet another Nats’ mauling, and did what two sports-loving friends do best in one another’s company: survey and solve Washington’s sports’ problems over a few beers.

Creative and caring about our home though we be, we may not be able to aid these present Nats. There is rebuilding and then there is this team: godawful, and embarrassingly non-competitive. There were no delusions about this team flirting with mediocrity this season, I don’t think, but Nats’ ownership and management, I also think, had some level of obligation to assemble something remotely attractive in this the maiden season of baseball in Washington’s beautiful new ballpark. The final last night was Mets 12, Nats goose egg.

When the Capitals were rebuilding they were rather surprisingly competitive, and even fun to support. Having Ovechkin certainly helped, but there were other heart-and-soul types to rally around, and even on the toughest of nights two seasons ago one could see the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel.

There are two jewel ballparks separated by about 40 miles in our region, and both most nights are half empty (or worse). It’s not so good. Last night was for all intents and purposes a road game for the home Nats, there were so many Mets’ caps and jerseys outfitted on patrons. I moved past souvenir stand after souvenir stand with lone workers in each conspicuously inactive. The baseball product here now, despite its gorgeous, sparkling new home, isn’t selling. And in such conditions, beleaguered franchises acquire the parasitic, preponderant presence of enemy fanbases.

There was as well conspicuous youth to last night’s “crowd”: offices that months ago had purchased blocks of Nats’ tickets have surrendered them, night after failing night, to summer interns and the teenage children of associates. On pretty summer nights for them it is better than hanging out at the mall.

Then there is the television dilemma: even family members of the Nationals aren’t following at home.

No one affiliated with the Nats now ought to be proud, and a revolutionary redrawing of the master plan (such as it is) ought to be well underway.

That ought to include, high on the list, re-pricing seats behind home plate to get some volume of humanity seated in them. Bad baseball is one thing; craven greed showcased with it is appalling. Put another way: the new stadium, funded as it is with bonds, can’t endure many more summers like this one.

Meanwhile, interestingly enough, across town the Capitals were hosting a third open house for hundreds of new ticket plan purchasers. A funny thing has happened to hockey here just since last fall: tickets are becoming scarce. (It would wise for Yahoo’s Ross McKeon to take in one of these open houses at the Phone Booth.) An OFBer was there last night, and around about the 4th inning I received a text relaying how few Verizon Center seats were tagged as available for the 08-’09 season. Almost certainly the Caps are holding back some seats for walkup sales, but it’s become abundantly clear that SportsWashington is investing with their wallets in this team what they did with their fashion red last spring.

Bank on this, too: media for the team’s training camp next month will blow away anything and everything that’s preceded it, including Jaromir Jagr’s first camp here. Gustafsson — father and son — will be in attendance. The hardward-hauling greatest hockey player on earth will daily hold court. There’ll be a bit of interest in the performance of the camp’s netminders.

The Wiz made news this summer by inking all of their name free agents — the ones who’ve guided them to annual first-round failures. More importantly for Capitals’ fans, the hoops and arena owner looks increasingly frail in his few public appearances.

McErlain last night shared with me a terrifically insightful assessment of the standing of the Burgundy and Gold here. “They’ve more of a college football hold on the region,” he said. It’s absolutely true. The Skins are to D.C. what the Cornhuskers are to all of Nebraska, what the Buckeyes are to Ohio and the Wolverines are to Michigan: quasi religious.

Not everybody wants to go to church on Sunday, however.

Ovechkin in Beijing

Thanks to Sovetsky Sports’ Pavel Lysenkov and Dmitry Chesnokov for passing along the following pictures of Alexander Ovechkin at the Olympics in Beijing. SovSport’s article that accompanies the photographs will be forthcoming later. And no, the woman with Ovechkin in the last picture is not his girlfriend. She’s a well known Russian actress. No surprise that the 2014 Olympic hosts would select two of Russia’s most recognizable faces to promote the Games.

Photo by Pavel Lysenkov / SovSport

Photo by Pavel Lysenkov / SovSport

Photo by Pavel Lysenkov / SovSport

Photo by Pavel Lysenkov / SovSport

Photo by Pavel Lysenkov / SovSport

Photo by Pavel Lysenkov / SovSport

Photo by Pavel Lysenkov / SovSport

Photo by Pavel Lysenkov / SovSport

Bettman’s Apocalypse - A Distraction from Hockeyless Summer

As July winds down and August draws near, hockey fans everywhere are itching for the NHL to return. This time of hockey drought is difficult; sure, a few storylines remain, like Mats Sundin (the NHL’s version of the Brett Favre saga) and for Washington Capitals fans the team’s salary cap management decisions. But this is undoubtedly a period of minimal hockey excitement; we even designed a Washington Capitals’ third jersey to fill this hockey-light time.

Well Puck Daddy’s Gary Bettman Art Contest is another such welcome distraction from the withering heat of hockey-less summer. Our entry was inspired by Colonel Kurtz and “the horror . . . the horror” of Bettman’s tenure as NHL commissioner. If you are Photoshop-inclined, the submission deadline is noon tomorrow (August 1). Have fun!

Gary Bettman - Apocalypse Now (mock-up by Mike Rucki)

Devin Thomas, Profile in Courage

OFB wishes a speedy recovery to Redskins’ rookie wide receiver Devin Thomas, who was carted off the training camp field this week with a strained hamstring.

No timetable has been established for his return.

We presume that Capitals’ center Boyd Gordon is well mended from his own groin injury — he competed in the Stanley Cup playoffs this spring with a torn groin.

A Flower in Bloom but a Single Night Washed Away by Wild Winds and Rain

Photo by Allen Clark / Off Wing Photo

Photo by Allen Clark / Off Wing Photo

Washington isn’t a city of vertical architecture, but among the 10- and 12-story office buildings and hotels surrounding the new professional team tennis stadium, home of the Washington Kastles, dozens of men could be seen standing out on terraces, verandas, rooftops, or pressed hard against office glass looking down and out onto the tennis court Wednesday night. More than a few were armed with binoculars.

Really hardcore tennis fans, perhaps? What, you didn’t know that D.C. is mad about its Wednesday night professional team tennis — so much so that $500-an-hour attorneys billing from on high would stop their labor (but not necessarily their billing) and catch a bit of the Kastles?

Ok, so maybe, just maybe, Anna Kournikova’s arrival in Washington with the St. Louis Aces had a little to do with the single-gender spying from on high.

Wednesday night I was all prepared to pursue this storyline at Kastles Stadium at CityCenterDC: whose arrival in Washington this year was the bigger news occasion, Pope Benedict’s or Kournikova’s?

Continue reading here.

How Anna Kournikova Ruled a Nation’s Lusting Hearts (and Modems)

Anna Kournikova (photo: Walter Iooss, 2008)

Anna Kournikova (photo: Walter Iooss Jr, 2008)

For our younger readers — and those who’ve been hit in the head with a puck once too often to remember — let’s take a fond, retrospective, lingering look at Anna Kournikova as she visits our fair city with the St. Louis Aces to face the Washington Kastles. I suspect very few male readers will mind this brief diversion from the melting asphalt of our nation’s capital today . . . and of course this is purely a public service, not just an excuse to search for Anna K photos without my wife giving me the evil eye. Really.

Anna Kournikova burst onto the tennis scene at 16 as a striking and talented newcomer; yet her tennis career faded as her celebrity increased. Something that many forget in the glare of paparazzi flashbulbs: she peaked as the 8th-ranked female player in the world in 2000 — no mean feat. So while the media attention she received was disproportionate to her tennis success, she undoubtedly had talent on the court. But it was her beauty and the accompanying rumor mill that made her such a popular icon.

In 2001, there were even rumors that Kournikova might hit the big screen as the next Bond Girl. As it turns out, no. But the idea was rife with Bond-ian double entendre name opportunities (or just single entendres) . . . Dr. Goodstroke? Anita Tourvin? Ivana Scorealot? The possibilities are endless.

Now the heiress to the Russian tennis hotness throne, Maria Sharapova, has herself expressed interest in being a Bond Girl (as well as interest in the new 007 Daniel Craig). It seems the spy game still has some luster in the former Soviet Union.

Kournikova proactively pursued her outsized popularity: she’s obliged, seemingly, every photo shoot request from Maxim to FHM to Sports Illustrated’s swimsuit issue. She was ranked as one of People Magazine’s ‘50 Most Beautiful People’ in 1998, 2000, 2002, and 2003. She did not avoid the spotlight, and it did not avoid her.

By 2003, she achieved the unprecedented status of most downloaded female athlete on the Internet, in the relatively short history of that new medium. We’ve yet to learn of her being bettered in that feat. According to Forbes.com, there were more than 18,000 web pages “devoted to her backhand and back end” in ‘03.

It’s rather easy to understand her starburst: her arrival coincided with the Internet’s maturation in graphics and multimedia — after all, Web surfers searching for Anna were not “reading the articles.”

Beefcake to balance the cheesecake

Daniel Craig, 007: Equal-time beefcake photo to balance the scales

But the biggest Kournikova story — and the most hockey-related as well — was her predilection for Russian hockey greats. Kournikova and Washington Capital Sergei Fedorov (then with Detroit of course) started as friends, married while she was a teen, then divorced soon after the kerfuffle over her connection with Pavel Bure. There was a time when both Fedorov and Bure claimed to be engaged to Kournikova . . . at the same time. Yet it was Fedorov, not Bure, who married the tennis star, albeit briefly. Chalk up another big win for Fedorov!

Much was made at the time of the significant age difference between Fedorov and Kournikova (the tabloids branded her a “Tennis Lolita”); even Fedorov attributed some of their split to the age gap: “We were just so much apart, and those [emotions] when you are falling in love, at such a young age … it was just impossible because I was a little bit older, I think.”

Apparently Sergei and Anna are no longer close, so it is unlikely that he will make an appearance at tonight’s event. But if you catch a glimpse of other Russian hockey hopefuls lurking in the background, don’t be surprised. Hmm . . . I’ve played hockey . . . perhaps I can pass as Mikhail Ruckov for a day? Da Zvidanya!

Lust, 15 . . . no 30, no 40: A Hockey Blogger Warms to the Tennis Beat

You might ask, what business is it of a hockey blog to cover a team tennis match? I might reply, forgive me for wanting to chronicle . . . a legend!

Legends are forged both by championship mettle and star-crossed curses. Greg Norman is a legend more for his losing than his winning. And so it is with our sensational starlet from SovetskyLand. So there.

It is an interesting time — some would say fortuitous — to be on the tennis beat. Tennis pro Ashley Harkleroad is in the news, nude. I go on a new beat and on day one I discover that the young, fit, and hard-bodied with rackets in their hands are running around in the buff.

Tennis, anyone?

Harkleroad’s reputed inspiration for extreme exposure in the August Playboy struck me as peculiar: it arrived in tandem with her recovery from an ovarian cyst procedure. How many sinus infections lead to new nose jobs?

She is the first professional tennis player to appear in Playboy, birthday suited. The only other pro athlete likewise unlayered there was swimmer Amanda Beard. For some reason I really wish puck daddy had been around when Ms. Beard took her dip in Playboy’s warmer waters. As it is, I’m saving a seat for him at tomorrow’s Anna K presser.

But who is Ashley Harkleroad? Good question. She’s not in the top 10 rankings of women’s professional tennis; in fact, she’s not in the top 50. Like Anna Kournikova, she made a precocious if palpitating first impression on court: her appearance at the 2001 U.S. Open, in extra tight shorts and a midriff-baring top, is said to have “paralyzed the ball boys.”

Tennis, anyone?

Actually, I don’t feel wholly alien to the endeavor of entering tennis journalism. Around the time I was 15, I thought rather seriously of authoring a coffee table book worshipping Canadian tennis star Carling Bassett, of the Carling O’Keefe brewery family. A hottie Canuck who’d never have to pay for our beers.

Tennis, anyone?

Anyway, Harkleroad, at the onset of this decade, was marketed-hyped as “the next Anna,” and like Anna, she hasn’t won much. She’s 23, and in tennis years — particularly on the women’s side — that’s getting up there if you haven’t won a tournament. It may be with this competitive sunset settling in that Harkleroad devined the inspiration to go streaking about the tennis court.

What if OnFrozenBlog morphed in summers into, say . . . OntheBaselinewithBabes?

A child of the ’70s, I vividly recall the “boom” tennis experienced then. In greater Washington, as in many parts of the country, recreational tennis courts were jammed, day in and day out. That’s hard to fathom today for anyone under 30, looking out over the vast empty fenced-in courts of today, but it’s positively true. It was a surreal time, with anecdotes of fights breaking out among tennis moms over access to courts.

So tennis knew this golden moment in America, and then, without rhyme or reason, it busted. To the point where today it’s all about (exposed, highlighted) busts. To this day I’m not sure why, and I’ve never read an attempt to explain it. Suddenly, everybody just started playing golf, clogging the courses and emptying out the courts. And it’s been that way for two-plus decades.

Anna Kournikova, however, seemed to be the helium for tennis’ flaccid air balloon. But she never ascended into the clouds of acclaim . . . for her play.

I’ve yet to hear anyone in tennis’ leadership articulate, in the mainstream press, a sense of what kind of conditions are needed to replicate the ’70s tennis boom. It happened once; is it the case that it can never happen again? If so, why?

It is money? Are other pro sports so ludicrously well-heeled by TV and sponsors that kids won’t pick up a racket? That seems too cynical a theory.

But who today in the hierarchy of American tennis is working on a Manhattan Project to revitalize tennis to something approaching its glory of three decades ago? Is anyone?

Or, is the sport’s leadership altogether passive and content to pimp out the sport’s popularity to the pinups of the moment?

(Not that there’s anything wrong with that.)

(See you at “Guy’s Night Out” Wednesday.)

We Are Readying Ourselves for Her Arrival in D.C.

Knowing our of association with Russia’s largest sports daily, SovetskySport, the Most Valuable Network approached us this week and asked if we’d accept an assignment few who know outdoor sporting events in July in D.C. would even consider: sitting beneath a searing sun, skin clammy with Mid-Atlantic humidity, and blogging . . . on tennis, as played by Russia’s Anna Kournikova. Wednesday night, Kournikova and her St. Louis Aces tennis team strut into CityCenterDC to face our Washington Kastles.

Initially, of course, we begged off the assignment, pointing to our fidelity, our monogamy, with but one sport. Also: we know less about tennis — team or any other version — than we do about quantum physics. But Washington today is a special destination for elite Russian athletes, and from some cursory investigative work this week we learned that that nation produces notably gifted female tennis players as well as sick-skilled hockey players. And these Russian hockey players have a way of attaching themselves to beautiful female athletes in other sports, including tennis, or to American fashion supermodels, and so we began to regard the MVN assignment as an opportunity to learn more about this distinctive culture — and share the edifying experience with our readers. Really, we’re doing this for you, dear blog reader.

It is also true that we are willing to do anything to help draw media attention away from the Washington Redskins at this time of year.

The assignment calls for us to attend a press conference with her hotness late Wednesday afternoon, take perch among the tennis press for the St. Louis-Washington team match that evening, and bring readers here and at MVN OFB’s unique flavor of new media coverage.

Our aim is simple: to shed light on a strikingly fit world-class athlete thus far little known to users of the Internet.

Because OFB is animated by the collective spirit comprised in its patronage, we welcome with your comments here your suggestions for coverage of this Starry Night in SportsWashington.

Remembering that OFB is a family-read blog, what would you ask Anna if you could put but a single question to her?

NFL Preseason: Stupid Is as Stupid Does

I confess I’ve never understood the length, breadth, and brutality of the NFL preseason. With athletes in all sports — including intercollegiate ones — now training year-round, the practice by pro football of spending a month-and-a-half-plus in helmets and pads, beating each other’s brains out, out in summer’s worst heat, strikes me as nothing short of insane.

The topic is salient as the Redskins, already underwhelming most observers with their 2008 prospects, and guided by a new coach who’s never coached before — (they may well finish last in their division) — lost one of their most important players on defense on the very first play of practice on the very first day of training camp yesterday. For the season. Later in the day, they lost another defensive end, also for the season, a reserve, who ruptured his achilles tendon. One might be inclined to chalk this up to really bad luck, except that as NFL preseasons have lengthened and intensified most especially in the last 10 years, as players once sized for the defensive line now roam at safety, and as linebackers now run not much slower than wideouts, the triage has multiplied. More NFL players, including front-liners, are certain to go down over the next six weeks — they always do. And the NFL doesn’t care.

In a very real sense contemporary pro football has become a game of brutal attrition. It’s positively preposterous to try and forecast a season ahead before first figuring out who survives all the way through August.

Phillip Daniels is a 12-year NFL veteran. In taking reps (well, one, anyway) yesterday with the ‘Skins, he was preparing for a season opener more than 45 days away. What in the world are the Redskins — and the rest of the NFL — doing scheduling such stress and duress?

I’m not the only one wondering about this madness.

Indicting the sport most might be its collegiate counterpart: without a single “preseason” game the NCAA pigskinners seem to open up with high-value heart-stoppers each and every Labor Day weekend. Consider too that unlike the collegians, NFLers have no limit on the amount of hours they can put in in a week training, studying film, and participating in offseason “mini-camps” and “voluntary workouts,” which of course are voluntary in name only. I think the Redskins have about a half dozen of those throughout the calendar now. By virtue of the commitment NFLers make around the calendar to their profession, there’s just no defense for the prolonged training camps of today.

One of the reasons the camp injuries are as dire as they annually are is because the camps are contested in extreme conditions — high heat and humidity. You also now have hundreds of three-hundred-plus-pounders competing in them, and you don’t have to be a cardiologist to know that those folks generally don’t prosper exercising in extreme heat. With their heads encased in oven-like shells.

Once upon a time, the NFL started training camps in August, conducted its season, which ended in January, and then spent late winter and spring and early summer healing up. And the football played then was rather good; some, like me, thought it better than today’s.

Today there is no offseason, in the NFL or really in any other sport, so why start the head-bashing, knee-destroying, and tendon-rupturing while embers from the 4th of July are still aglow?

All teams play a minimum of four preseason games, and starters are expected to play nearly a half of each game because . . . teams charge regular season prices for the ghoulish meat grinder-slaughterfests. I don’t doubt that a healthy majority of NFL clubs have lobbied the league office over the years to try and get the preseason shortened — motivated by a basic sense of survival. But now we’re getting to the heart of the matter: season tickets owners in Washington don’t have the option of not spending hundreds more on the meaningless slate of exhibitions. And the hundreds more on parking.

And always the games are atrocious to watch. Even if you hate baseball you should watch it instead of the NFL’s July and August dreck.

I’m not ignorant about football players needing their “reps.” And I realize that a handful of rookies need to be evaluated in game-like situations. But given the gazillions the NFL spends evaluating college players year-round, and in combines and such, you can’t make the argument that teams need half a summer to evaluate their new personnel. Or that grizzled vets need months’ worth of reps in triple-digit temps.

The NHL with its preseason has actually taken an alternative strategy with that of the NFL, and shortened it in recent years. Teams will commence camp in mid-September and have just three weeks of training and exhibitions before the arrival of opening week. Talk to any NHL manager and he’ll tell you that his players will show up in mid-September in shape and ready to skate. We can quibble over whether the preseason should extend more than 5 games, but it’s clear that the NHL, unlike the NFL, isn’t motivated by negligent and malicious greed, for hardly anyone attends NHL exhibition games. And by virtue of having a viable feeder development league in the ‘A,’ with annual promotions for virtually every club from it, hockey’s exhibitions are defensible events as auditions of the up-and coming.

Moreover, hockey clubs aren’t obligated to dress their stars — Ovechkin might skate two of the September games, for instance.

It’s really striking when you consider how relatively blessed the NHL is when it comes to being able to dress, durably, its stars from opening night on through the postseason. It’s a fierce and rugged sport to be sure, but it’s managed by men who care about the welfare of their charges and enact training schedules to protect them.

Morning Cup-a-Spirit: This Bigotry Against Babes, I Won’t Stand for It!

To read the reactions left only here related to the Caps’ plans, announced over the weekend, to introduce SpiritBabes to the team’s home games next season, you’d think management announced that Verizon Center was hosting 41 brothels next winter.

It’s too warm in there for brothels anyway.

Would that the peasants took up pitchforks and torches in these numbers when the league bleep-canned hockey jerseys for Reebok’s tuxedo vests a year ago.

Count me among those with a more inclusive spirit — one who will approach the scheme with an open mind. I take the owner at his word (”I am a family man with a wife and daughter“).

I was all prepared to write about my first one-on-one chat with Hershey Bears’ head coach Bob Woods on Saturday when this fracas broke out later that day. No wonder Washington is consistently regarded as a sex-appeal-less city.

In reality, though, all the NHL is doing is catching up — modestly, I might add — with football’s spirited sidelines. Or Fox News. In a culture of seriously foxy FoxNews, is this really anything to get all that worked up about?

But by late yesterday we’d received pointed clarification from the Capitals on the matter: “The squad won’t be ice girls in the traditional sense . . . It’s also not a dance squad, a la the NBA. It’s more of an evolution of the entertainment team we have had in the past” [the one that most in the stands thought was remarkably annoying -- I'm all for evolving that].

Still, I found it riotously funny to learn that Bruce Cassidy had contacted the team’s sales department Sunday seeking a full plan for next season. And Smoken Al Koken — has he been revived since Saturday’s news?

Actually, you can make a compelling argument I think that hockey, particularly in markets like Washington, is much more in need of some sultry spirit than is the NFL. Mr. Leonsis, in defending the move on Sunday, noted that it was with new revenue in mind that the team pursued the idea. In case you hadn’t noticed, television ain’t exactly throwing mad dough at the NHL’s 30 clubs these days. Meanwhile, the league’s salary cap has mushroom-clouded by more than $15 million in just the three seasons since the lockout.

It’s swell that we’re all in love with this rockin’ garage band called hockey, but the band still has to be paid, and if Hooters-Lite (not Hustler) wants to underwrite the Friday night jam session, I think the beer will still taste cold. Count me as one who wants a hockey team’s practices, scrimmages, and camps to remain free and open to the public, year round.

Anyone remember the millions the NHL spent on its post-lockout relaunch television advertisements — you remember the ones, the “My NHL” spots featuring the hockey locker room beefcake, rather shirtless, massage-motivated by a Fox News anchor in the pre-game? I remember thinking the first time I watched it, ‘My, how shirtless this hockey player is, and my, how little I now want lunch.’ Now that was profane, and brought to you by Bettman & Co. I’m confident that Ted doesn’t have quite that in mind.

I’m not sure what revenue the Washington Redskins’ cheerleaders bring in to the team, but whenever they make community appearances you seldom hear of Puritanical protests accompanying them or of anyone having a real lousy time at them. In fact, once in a while, the tight end marries the babe. Maybe the SpiritBabe will marry the bachelor blogger.

The Capitals, and hockey in Washington, need increased exposure (if you’ll pardon my word choice). If the Caps’ SpiritBabes are going to be out and about town during and after seasons hence, perhaps toting along a few congenial players with them, it’s bound to improve the team’s visibility, as well as that of the sport.

And in our recessionary times, where is the acknowledgment of the idea’s job creation ???

There’s been all manner of hyperbole associated with this past weekend’s high-pitched hue and cry reaction. For instance, some have alleged that the aisle ladies in their shimmer and shake will distract from the play on the ice. On nights when the Caps lay an egg, I agree — and let’s hope so. On those nights especially I’ll be glad for Verizon Center’s new state-of-the-art, high-rise, high definition, center ice scoreboard. But really, if the Alexanders are barreling down the ice on a two-on-one scoring chance, how many men’s and women’s eyes will be fixated on tight fannies in the stands?

And what of the selectivity of outrage in this instance? When it’s Mites on Ice, all are quiet, despite the fact that with that exhibition the laughter is generated at the expense of really, really short people. But raise the specter of pretty girls prettying up the District’s rink, and all hell breaks loose.

The only genuine harm that can come from this scheme is if, to quote the wit of one of the few in this town with a sense of humor, who imparted it in the maelstrom of message board madness yesterday, “they come down to the Johnny Walker Club after the game and are attracted to out-of-shape middle-aged men.”

When Messrs. Vogel, Parker, Rucki and I were taking in the World Championships in Moscow in the spring of 2007, we had no shortage of aisle-jiggling accompanying our blogging endeavors (see photo above). I think I can speak for the four of us in saying that we got our work done just dandy. In point of fact, the real distraction in terms of Moscow hotties diverting our gaze came with the middle-of-the-night trollop parade through our hotel’s lobby (where we were blog drafting), aided and abetted by bellhops on the cash take.

Baltic beauties in boas and hip-high black boots. Naughty, naughty Nikitas! Sorry, that was the indulgence of reverie.

Anyway, over in Moscow, we learned that NHL scouts were in favor of off-ice girls.

!

Perhaps since Alexander Ovechkin has to spend the next 13 seasons skating here we should let him be the arbiter in the matter.

The Whims of a Hopeless Romantic

He will be hanging his hockey sweater in D.C. another year.

She, a member of the St. Louis Aces, will be visiting D.C. July 23, to meet our Washington Kastles.

Compatriots, and one-time paramours, life this decade has taken them on different paths.

Who else would like to see vanquished love rekindled then?

Also, who else believes it a hockey blogger’s faithful duty to cover this Midsummer night’s bit of intrigue? 

Woe Is Hardwood Seattle

How are you handling the news that the Seattle Sonics are bolting town?
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More Changing of the Star Guard in Washington

One evening last week I departed a suburban Maryland grocery store trailing a father and what appeared be his son, aged about seven. The youth was wearing a Gilbert Arenas Wizards’ jersey.

Two news items from last week made me reflect on this situation: (1) that Arenas had opted out of the final year of his contract with the Wizards, snubbing the tidy sum of $12.8 million next season in exchange for a search this summer for greener pastures (perhaps like Latrell Sprewell before him, Arenas just has a family to feed); and (2) that on Friday the Capitals’ Alexander Ovechkin would be accepting the key to the city from the mayor.

It’s absolutely true that Arenas could return to Chinatown this autumn and resume his career as a Wizard, but his announced action last week was something less than, say, the full-on pledge of fidelity made by the other Verizon Center star tenant earlier this year.

In the immediacy of my grocery store moment I wondered if and how the father ahead of me might undertake the explaining of Arenas’ circumstances to his son. No doubt dad would wait until the news was certain, but then what? Assuming Gilbert goes, the youth wearing his jersey this summer confronts perhaps his life’s first full-on agony: his life’s hero departed, without understanding of how or why, to wear the jersey of another team. Next I thought about the legion of Ovechkin shirt-wearing youths in the region, and how they’ll never know such a day.

I’m a huge hockey fan, altogether indifferent when it comes to hoops in all of its iterations, but this wildly divergent imbalance in loyalty by the respective athletes — even in decade four that we are now in of massive player movement each and every season — I don’t like at all. In this regard (and many others), I am a Caveman.

Arenas last week merely did what was common in his sport. If what Ovechkin did in January can’t be described quite as common in his, still, it didn’t quite surprise those of us who follow hockey all that much. Or put another way: when has Ovechkin ever been about himself at the expense of his team?

Ultimately, it doesn’t much matter what Arenas decides to do in what I believe is yet another Summer of Change for sporting D.C. Last week I think signaled more of a dramatic progression in the unprecedented ascension by a sports star here in a sport that’s never truly taken root in this city (but sure looks like it is now). Ovechkin the transformative athlete was last week transforming his town more. You saw last Friday how he summertime transformed A1 of the Washington Post.

In his defense, Arenas is an extremely likeable NBA star. When healthy, he plays his sport magnificently and manages to stay out of trouble off the court, entirely, which unfortunately is somewhat news of note for a leader in that league. Like Ovechkin, Arenas is full of wide-smiling charisma, and like Ovechkin, people are drawn to him. Still, last week, he told us rather explicitly just how near and dear to his heart we Washingtonians were, this way: it’s just business, baby.

It was business, too, for AO last January, real serious business; but he took a markedly different view of his supporters and their town. He articulated then this sentiment: I want to win a Stanley Cup in Washington. He reiterated this in Toronto last Thursday night, when he filled a 747 with honors hardware.

It wasn’t lost on me, either, that Arenas snubbed a sum nearly $3 million more than Ovechkin will ever earn in salary as the planet’s greatest hockey player. And yet, in this moment in time, whereas perhaps 20 years ago the departure of a basketball stud in his 26-year-old prime likely would have occasioned every-office corner angst, are the city’s flags flying at half mast? Is anybody but me this morning much talking about Gilbert?

Our mayor doesn’t seem to be.

But this file isn’t about the humility of hockey players versus the bling and entourages of the athletes in other sports. It’s about the ongoing procession of a pied piper of puck, who just seems with his ongoing presence to take Washington’s sports fans — and the city’s media editors — in ever increasing numbers into his realm.

It is also about his ascension into a new, parallel universe of sports star. One that’s not necessarily in competition with Redskins or Wizards but rather is its own deeply edifying existence: Washington the no longer one-sport city. Even if Jason Campbell manages no better than a .500 career as a Redskin starter he will certainly enjoy greater celebrity and name recognition here than the hockey star. That, along with dispiriting humidity, is Washington’s perpetual affliction. But Ovechkin, without really trying, just by being great and just by being himself, is enlargening our game here. Mario did it in football-looney Pittsburgh, made it fashionable to travel to other cities in a Penguins’ sweater (speaking of afflictions).

Over at the Wilson building last Friday afternoon, Ovechkin again showed how he’s breaking the mold of what we in D.C. have come to know as our enduring sports icons. He’s in possession of a charisma, an aura, that will not be throttled or dimmed by any awkwardness with his still-in-progress command of English. In moments when the most special of stars are supposed to shine, he’s almost always radiant. And so in accepting his ceremonial key to the city he announced, “I’m the president this day in the city, so everybody have fun — no speed limit.”

Apt words, those, because even in 90-degree summer heat Ovie has us having a lot of fun loving him and his winter game.

The Capitals Have You (and Your Commute) Covered

All AboardAs the Caps vs. Flyers Game 7 third period ended in a tie, I turned to my wife and said, “If the game goes past midnight, I’ve got enough cash for the cab home (to Bethesda) — happily, if the Caps win.” Metro Rail closes at midnight, but the cost of a taxi home was nothing next to the chance of a multi-OT Game 7, particularly one that could result in a Capitals victory.

Sadly, as we well know, that’s not how the night ended. But it got me thinking: What would happen if a game went past Metro’s last call? As players and fans at the quadruple OT sharks at Stars game in Round 2 stumbled into the morning hours, I reflected that Dallas fans would not experience the same problem that Washington fans might. After all, Dallas has practically no public transportation, so 99.9% of the fans likely drove to the game. It’s a different story in our nation’s capital.

So in light of another multi-OT grinder last night, and the likelihood of the Capitals’ frequent return to the post-season for years to come, be reassured: The Capitals and WMATA have got you covered.

A WMATA representative provided a breakdown of their policy for the Nationals and other DC-area sporting events. She explained that WMATA has a standing agreement with Nationals Stadium to operate the rail system beyond normal hours if Nationals games go into extra innings — which makes sense, since any of the Nats’ 81 regular-season games could go well into extra innings. With regard to other sports events, “the sponsoring team makes arrangements with Metro in advance to operate beyond normal hours.”

I also contacted Kurt Kehl of the Washington Capitals; he confirmed that, in the event of extended playoff OT (or even, one would assume, some sort of interruption that significantly delays a regular-season contest), fans need not worry about getting home:

The simple answer is yes, Metro will always make sure that fans get home after a game at the Verizon Center. Metro will keep Gallery Place open and have trains available to get people home. Metro has had a long-standing agreement with Verizon Center to make sure no one would ever be stranded, and they have service agreements in place just in case a hockey, basketball or concert event runs past midnight Sunday to Thursday.

It seems the Caps can simply inform Metro that a given game may be pushing or exceeding Metro’s typical operating hours, and the trains will be there.

So as Alex Ovechkin leads the Capitas into the 2008-09 playoffs and beyond, Capitals fans needn’t let travel concerns make them consider early departure — they can devote full attention to the ice.

As for work the next day . . . well, that’s what caffeine is for, no?

U.S. Youth Not Yet Serving up Medals at the Worlds

Since the American entry in the 2004 World Hockey Championships finished with a bronze medal, the U.S. has finished 6th, 7th, 5th, and, most recently this past week, 5th in the tourney. Not so good.

“Young” seems to be the springtime flavor of excuse for middling showings by the Americans in this tournament. Yes the Americans are comparatively young in the tourney, but they are also highly skilled, annually one of the fastest teams, and always carefully assembled by a blue ribbon advisory group. And even with their youth most of the American roster each spring possesses notable international hockey experience, gained particularly from the World Juniors tourneys. They are losing games in elimination play in excruciating fashion: in overtime.

Beginning with 2009, it’s time to begin expecting better.

USA Hockey has made it abundantly clear that it wants to compete for championships in this event every bit as much as with the World Junior Championships and the Olympics. Of the three most prestigious international competitions, year in and year out this will always be the toughest for the Americans to contend in. The Americans with the National Development Team Program have a rigorous and committed program priming young hockey talent for the World Juniors. It’s a built-in advantage, I think. Additionally, the Junior team rarely has significant injuries to deal with, as that tournament is contested relatively early in the hockey season. The Olympic teams, too, also benefit from the calendar, and never have to worry about the best American players still competing in the NHL palyoffs.

To be fair, with very limited depth in terms of impact players, the U.S. cannot endure injuries like say Canada can and compete seriously at either the Olympics or the Worlds. This year’s American Worlds entry would have had a decidedly different look to it in terms of skill and experience had it been able to roster just say Eric Cole, Chris Clark, and Rick DiPietro and or Ryan Miller.

Indeed, if there’s anything particularly promising as American hockey fans look ahead to the 2010 Olympics in Vancouver, it’s that that American team will not have Tim Thomas, Robert Esche, or Craig Anderson between the pipes but most likely rather the tandem of Miller and DiPietro. Esche actually had moments of surreal brilliance at this year’s World’s — most especially in games against the Finns — but neither he nor his 2008 netminder teammates are a trio with which a nation pins medal hopes on.

There were also huge American names absent from this Worlds’ rsoter because of the NHL playoffs: Drury and Gomez, Mike Komisarek and Chris Higgins in Montreal, perhaps Dallas’ Matt Niskanen, certainly Paul Stastny. You have to think Higgins is a prime candidate for the 2010 team. I was especially disappointed to see neither of Erik or Jack Johnson rostered for the Americans this spring — both competed for the Americans in Moscow last year. Those two, along with Komisarek and Niskanen, you have to think would play important roles on the Olympic team in two years. After goaltending, the biggest difference we may well see between this year’s Worlds team and the Olympic one in Vancouver likely will be on the blueline. An entirely different top 4, for instance.

Up front, there appears to be greater certainty. Peter Mueller, Patrick Kane, Zach Parise, Phil Kessel — the latter distinguishing himself now in consecutive World Championships — along with Stastny and perhaps Cole and Higgins, that’s a lot of skilled MoJo seriously on the move. And I began getting excited about David Booth’s game very early his past season with the Panthers. He’s likely to be a super quick skilled pest on the Americans’ third or fourth line in Vancouver. One very young American player I’m eager to watch next season with an eye on the 2010 Games is the Islander’s Kyle Okposo.

The Americans almost certainly won’t enter the 2010 Olympics on hockey folks’ list of medal contenders, but as with the Worlds, you need win only one game against a great team on a given night, and that’s where someone like Ryan Miller can elevate American hockey dreams. Next year’s American Worlds roster, to the extent that the NHL playoffs and injuries allow, ought to be assembled as a test run for 2010. This year’s simply couldn’t be.

But looming large as a challenge for USA Hockey is finding the right guy behind the American bench. It’s fair to say, I think, that a new name needs to be considered. The last three years American Worlds teams have been led by Mike Eaves, Mike Sullivan, and John Tortorella. Shouldn’t USA Hockey name a coach for next year’s Worlds with an eye on having that man guide the Americans in Vancouver as well? If so, I have an outside-the-box pick. A man with significant ties to USA Hockey, a man with an unrivaled record in winning with young hockey players and one who may just well be the best hockey coach outside of the NHL right now.

Jeff Jackson.

Take Me Out to the Ballgame - Capitals to Visit Nationals Park

Per the Capitals’ press release:

Washington Capitals head coach Bruce Boudreau, defenseman Mike Green and goaltender Cristobal Huet will take part in pregame ceremonies at the Washington Nationals-Florida Marlins game on Monday, April 7, 2008, at Nationals Park. The Capitals representatives will handle the Nationals’ “Play Ball” announcement, lineup card duties and throw out the ceremonial first pitch before the Nationals battle the Marlins at 7:10 p.m.

UPDATE 11:10 a.m.: Coach Boudreau will be unable to attend tonight. However, Mike Green will be tossing the first pitch–the second ever thrown at the new ballpark. It’s a safe bet Green will receive a more positive crowd reaction than the President did on opening day.

Blame the Rapid Change in Weather for Your Friday “Illness”: Must-See Postseason Puck TV

If you labor in an office setting, you’re no doubt familiar with the “creative” excuses some co-workers have used this week to excuse themselves from work to follow Thursday and Friday play in the NCAA hoops tourney. It’s a common pursuit by the common man.

The uncommon sport’s fan, however, appreciates alternative television viewing this weekend.

College hockey — far less exploitive of its student athletes insomuch as its postseason games, like its regular season ones, are contested on actual weekends — offers this afternoon semifinal play in all of the sport’s power conferences, and there’s ample cable television coverage of it. This year Hockey East (NESN), the CCHA (FSN/FoxCollegeSports), and the WCHA (FSN/FCS) are on TV and available in numerous cable markets and on satellite.

The Caps play only tonight this weekend, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t plenty of great puck to view. If you’re late arriving to the great party that is college hockey, watch a few of these postseason games this weekend, replete with their multiple overtime, sudden-death drama, and you’ll be hooked.

Even if you aren’t feeling under the weather at the moment, it’s a good time of year to take precautionary measures, and extend your rest time this weekend with an early office depature this afternoon.

So start coughing around 2:00 and try this prescription:

(All times Eastern Daylight)

3:00 p.m.: Fox College Sports – WCHA semifinal game 1

4:30 p.m.: Fox College Sports — CCHA semifinal game 1

5:00 p.m.: NESN — Hockey East semifinal Game 1

7:00 p.m.: Fox College Sports — WCHA semifinal game 2

8:00 p.m.: Fox College Sports — CCHA semifinal game 2; NESN — Hockey East semifinal game 2

On Saturday, you can see re-broadcasts of many of Friday’s semifinal games in the afternoon before the finals in the evening. And one or two Saturday night finals’ games will be re-broadcast on Sunday.

A Spiritual Streak Remains Intact, and Adherence to It Pays Off Large

My boss gave me an unpleasant assignment at week’s start: take a reporter to the NCAA basketball opening round’s evening slate at Verizon Center Thursday, for a schmoozing session with the press. That’s unpleasant for me cause it isn’t just that basketball isn’t my bag, but to be in a multi-use venue like Verizon Center and not see the ice sheet saddens my hockey heart. Even if I’m in a big building like the Phone Booth for a rock concert in the dead of summer my thoughts always gravitate to the cement slab covered up for the offseason.

I find monogamy sexy.

Also adding to the inventory of my Thursday melancholy was this consideration: I’d yet to set foot in Verizon Center, since its opening, for a hoops game. This was partly a bias I’d maintained because I’m hardcore about my hockey, but as the middle ’90s of Abe Pollin puck poison yielded to tough times of mess cleaning up by the liberated and Leonsis-led Caps, I developed a deep and lasting resentment for the half-hearted attentions old ownership ever showed the hockey team. And when under false and ludicrous pretenses the old man took away the name of the title-winning basketball team, that was the deal-sealer.

Call it a sh*t list. He and his team ain’t the only one on it. (How sad a thought: there are scores like me around town that have such bans imposed on multiple teams in the region, often for the same reason. We seem to have two extremes of sports team ownership in this town — the really, really commendably, personably engaged and competent, fellas you’d like to have a beer with, and the you-know-whos.)

It was a spiritual, devotional ban-streak I maintained. Cal had his streak, I have mine.

I messaged the reporter, Jeff, intermittently throughout Thursday, setting up a meeting point and dinner arrangements and such. I learned that he hails from Vermont. Which led me to ask him the inevitable question.

“Oh I’d much rather attend a hockey game than basketball,” Jeff told me. “We can use the tickets for a few minutes then go grab some beers,” he added. Suddenly, my evening assignment seemed a lot more pleasant.

My boss, using a boss’ prerogative, attended Thursday afternoon’s session at Verizon Center. He’d forked over some pretty serious dough for the tickets ($600+) and was under the understandable impression that his investment was good for the entirety of Thursday’s games. I found out otherwise at Will Call near 6:00.

When I called my boss to explain the oversight, he was crestfallen with embarrassment. Six hundred dollars (admittedly in pretty premium seating) apparently doesn’t buy what it once did. He made all manner of apologies to me, none of which of course were necessary. I was smiling widely. I assured him that I’d get a hold of Jeff and extend his heartfelt apology.

Then I suggested that we make it up to our reporter friend, at a future date, which at the moment was an immensely easy sell to my boss.

“Jeff is from Vermont and a big nut about hockey like me,” I began. “We do have college hockey’s final four coming to Washington next April. I’m sure Jeff would get a kick out of that.”

“Make it happen,” my boss replied.

Loyalty has its rewards.

The Ashburn Diaries, Winter 2008

Morning Cup-A-JoeLike the Capitals recently, the Redskins find themselves in search of a successor coach. Any and all similarity of operations ends there. What is ensuing now in the Great Search is, predictably, high burlesque, a lavish local sports soap opera.  

The Capitals had both a qualified general manager and an appropriately removed-from-hockey-decisions owner involved in their search. The Redskins have neither. There is no foundation for believing that a genuinely gifted hockey mind available on the market wouldn’t have entertained an overture from George McPhee to guide the bench of the young and gifted Caps. But the Capitals’ coaching search was efficient and painless and apparently successful precisely because there was in place a plan of succession. Such planning is the byproduct of business competence. There is abundant reason to believe that Tier I coaching choices won’t return Daniel Synder’s telephone calls. Snyder, like a pornographer, runs a successful business by the barometer of profitability margins.     

The general manager’s role in contemporary professional sports, I’ve written before, has evolved remarkably in the past 15 or 20 years, with law schools today clogged with aspiring pro sports executives. We in Washington this past summer, with the Michael Nylander Edmonton-D.C. dust-up, saw first-hand the value of having an executive law trained in a matter of contracts and negotiations. What is it about Daniel Snyder that innoculates him from local press criticism for failing to staff the Redskins with this most basic and increasingly important business role? Clearly, Joe Gibbs’ rerun on the sidelines purchased the owner some years of deferred scrutiny on this front, but with his dismissal of Charlie Casserly years prior, it became standard operating procedure for the boy owner to seat himself in the role of talent evaluator and contract negotiator. The results speak for themselves.

I got a good chuckle from the early replacement speculation stories with their inclusion of Bill Cower’s name. As if such an accomplished coach would deign work for our egomaniacal, control freak tyrant. Notice his name hasn’t been uttered since. Caller ID no doubt ended that courtship. The linear chronology of the search is a bit sketchy, and my suspicion is that this is premised on the Skins’ themselves floating out star quality falsehoods. The architect of the collegiate dynasty out West, Pete Carroll, allegedly surfaced not long after Cower. Yeah, right.

Here’s a list of plausible replacements for the Cerrato-Synder two-(empty)-headed monster to cull from:

Tyronne Willingham;

Wayne Fontes;

NFL interns;

Whoever’s coaching DeMatha — maybe.

The latest, if you believe local press accounts, involves the Mooch, Steve Mariucci. At least he has late ’90s compentency on his CV. His more recent run with the Lions went such that no one’s bothered to ask him to coach since. Now we’re back in plausibility.

The discrepancy in paychecks notwithstanding, one wonders if WaPost’s Jason LaConfora these days pines for the integrity and veracity associated with his old Caps’ beat.

At least in the blogosphere, Snyder is on the receiving end of enough criticism that some of it borders on unfair. He is not, for instance, singularly responsible for Metro’s malfeasance. But at a time when all major college football programs are voraciously recruiting wide receivers 6 ‘2 or taller, the Redskins of recent seasons have insisted on signing smurfs. As with his coaching nostalgia, Snyder is still living in the ’80s. In an Era of the Tall, guess who thinks it’s wise to go small?

Another relic of the ’80s is Danny’s right-hand Yes Man, Vinny Cerrato. His most notable accomplishment prior to arriving in Ashburn? Coordinating the recruiting of 17- and 18-year-olds for Lou Holtz’s Fighting Irish . . . in the ’80s.  

This spring, as college juniors and seniors audition at NFL combines in front of scores of talent evaluators who’ve paid their dues, and are held accountable for their decision-making, it’s necessarily the case that Snyder and Cerrato will be perched hard by the likes of Bill Belichick. That’s a fair showdown of pigskin wits.

In this winter of mild Mid-Atlantic temps, and with his Good Shepherd returned to his NASCAR flock, Daniel Snyder is, perhaps at last, dangerously exposed. He’s the Oz in front of the Burgundy curtain. And an in-kind fraud. 

  

Training Camp for Washington Sports Editors

Morning Cup-A-JoeNear 8:00 this past Saturday night, Washington’s mainstream sports editors confronted an annual dilemma: the end of another Redskins’ season. Joe Gibbs’ second retirement from football offered our local press horde a brief stay of execution from the Burgundy and Gold beat, but today the harsh reality sets in.

Their dilemma is existential: what now?

To the disappointment of Wizards’ fans, and the horror of Dan Steinberg, Agent Zero recently hinted at the likelihood of shutting it down this season to recover fully from his knee injury. Nats’ pitchers and catchers don’t report south for weeks. We’re many months away from Tiger’s return to town.

Customarily, this season in the D.C. sports calendar dictates that sports editors assign their staff the research and drafting of obituaries for American sports legends solidly on life’s back nine. Long lunches. And vacations.

We at OFB, however, think that with the arrival of Redskin-free Januaries, henceforth and inaugurating with this one, the region’s hockey bloggers, in a joint endeavor with the Washington Capitals, ought to conduct a training camp for MSM sports editors.

To introduce them to the sport of hockey.

In a very real sense, it’d be analogous to the fantasy camps the well-heeled, middle-aged, and portly participate in across all sports. Making no judgment on the physical well being of our MSM editors, it’s abundantly clear that their cognitive acumen with respect to hockey is, shall we say, under exercised. As such, the heart of our camp would feature a fully developed Capitals University for the editors. JoeB is particularly busy at this time of year, but given the claims of this cause, I’d anticipate some creative schedule juggling on his part and ultimately his cooperation.

Orientation would have to start with the most basic of basics: a Mapquest route from WaPost and the various network broadcast studios in the District to Kettler Capitals. Initially, the editors would be picked up and led to the facility by various Caps’ players in a caravan, but as part of a camp final exam, the editors would have to demonstrate their ability to navigate their own way to the Capitals’ new home.

Early on, too, it would imperative to dispel some false assumptions long held by the editors. For instance, on Day One of camp we’d have one of the region’s meteorologists present Dopler data conforming that no reporters covering Caps’ games actually freeze from the experience. Indeed, at Verizon Center, there’s the greater likelihood of visitors suffering heat stroke. It is simply not true that the Caps travel to Saskatchewan to contest their games outdoors December through March.

As part of camp, the editors would be taken on field trips to the region’s rinks — Reston, Ft. Dupont, Columbia and Cabin John — where they would be asked to view the thousands of youths, male and female, clogging the weekend clocks morning, noon, and night with the playing of hockey. They would be asked to sit in the rinks’ stands among players’ pa