Full Speed Ahead

And I thought watching $132 million man Alex Ovechkin try to freight train every opponent was scary. If you are a Caps fan this video is cringe-worthy and hilarious at the same time. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YMlJCb9XdeE

Maybe I Was Wearing Beer Goggles.

A tease. A flirt. That's exactly what the Washington Capitals ice hockey club is these days. Washington is the hot girl in a bar-all sexy, exciting and alluring-right until she breaks your heart by not giving you the time of day. Sunday she made eyes at me from across the bar when she dismantled the Pittsburgh Penguins and punked uber-crybaby Sidney Crosby. (I'm not going to really wail on Crosby here, but I will just say that Crosby calling anyone, let alone Alex Ovechkin, a "pu**y", as he did on Sunday, is the height of irony.) So, last night, emboldened by years of flirting and Sunday's eye contact, I made my move and tried buying her a drink. My reward? Washington through the drink in my face; her third period meltdown was as ugly as it gets. Now I will not trust her again. Oh sure, I'll keep my eyes on her, checking her out from across the room, but if she wants to dance she'll have to ask me; I'm tired of being rejected. Translating my mangled metaphor- I'm through believing the Caps will have any real success in the playoffs until I actually see it.

The Caps were outclassed by a superior opponent last night in a game in which Philly was missing one their best scorers and one of their best shut-down defensemen. The Caps' deficiencies have turned chronic. Their defensemen refuse to put a body on an opposing forward. On the Flyers' third and fourth goals (in a 4-2 victory, don't forget) Jeff Schultz could have disrupted the play by putting a shoulder into someone. The fourth goal was especially poor. The Flyer forward (I'm too lazy to look up which fourth line hack it was) skated across the face of the goal as Schultz flailed his stick at the puck. Schultz-For Christ sake, you are a huge man. Put your shoulder into his chest and dislodge him from the puck. You are allowed to do that. I would rather you step up and miss the check than weakly attempt to stick check him.

The Caps were again whistled for nine penalties and could have been called for a few more. Apparently, somebody on the team is getting tired of it. Brooks Laich, via the Washington Post-"...we just seem to take lazy, undisciplined, sometimes they can be criticized as selfish penalties. Every game we shoot the puck in our own zone over the glass. We've got to limit that. We spent basically [the second period] shorthanded." So Brooks' grammar wasn't perfect in that quote, but you get the idea. I wish I could find text of his quote that I heard on the radio this morning. He was harsher and relayed that the players are all grown-ups and should be responsible for taking care of this problem themselves. Coach Boudreau seemed less sure about that saying benchings could be imminent.

These penalties and a boatload of missed chances (three shorthanded breakaways!) cost the Caps last night and will continue to plague them if not corrected. I want so badly to believe they can do it, but maybe it was the beer goggles tricking me all these years, because the Caps sure looked ugly last night compared to that chick from Philly. (Who, for the record, I wouldn't go home with if it was closing time on Armageddon Day.)

No Hat, No Cattle

On Friday night I was the most powerful man in Washington D.C. I pushed through no stimulus packages, nor did I admonish CEOs from my Congressionial high horse. No, unfortunately, I controlled the entire outcome of a professional sporting event. A couple of weeks ago I threw my lucky Capitals hat onto the ice following an Alex Ovechkin hat trick. I feared that the undefeated (4-0) hat was the key to me witnessing Caps victories in person. Now that it was gone I am doomed to see the Caps lose in person for the rest of the year. Friday night's dismal loss to the Colorado Avalanche seems to have confirmed my neurotic suspicions. My departed hat has to be the only explanation for such an awful defeat. Or does it?

Perhaps the Caps crappy performance was not some paranormal event related to one fan's hat, but instead was a performance indicative of the flaws this team possesses that threaten to derail what should be a deep playoff run. For weeks the Caps have played with fire; they lack one trait- toughness. Hockey toughness can manifest itself in several ways and, fortunately, the Caps display it in some ways. They have the league's toughest fighter, Donald Brashear, a talented crop of grinding forecheckers and superstar Alex Ovechkin backs down from no one. Dig a little deeper, however, and you'll find that this team is severely lacking in two other toughness departments- mental toughness and defensive toughness.

Mentally the Caps don't show up every night. This team plays to the level of its opponent on a consistent basis. They have some remarkable wins against the Devils, Bruins, Habs and Red Wings, but have lost badly to the Kings, Avs and others. It is good to play up against the big guys, but championship teams pile up points by winning the games they are supposed to win. Lose focus against these teams and you cost yourself valuable standings points. A handful of extra victories against bad teams would have put the division away already. I'm not panicking by any stretch, but the Caps need a killer instinct against the weaker teams. Fortunately, in the playoffs there are no bad teams and hopefully nobody for this team to look past.

The other mental deficiency the Caps have is discipline. They take way too many penalties. You would think a team that has a penalty kill ranked in the bottom third of the league would do its best to stay out of the box. These players take some of the dumbest penalties. Penalties in the offensive zone, lazy hooks that wouldn't be necessary with a little skating, hauling a guy down because you are out of position or make a careless pass-it's enough to drive a fan nuts. It just doesn't make any sense when you see one of the fastest, most talented players in the league(Ahem, Alex Semin) hook a guy in the neutral zone instead of skating with him. As I was stuck in bed ill all last weekend, I was able to watch both weekend Caps games in their entirety. In two games they took three delay of game penalties for shooting the puck over the glass. In neither case was the player pressured by an opponent. That shouldn't happen three times in a season, let alone in back-to-back games. The longer your team is shorthanded, the less time your amazing offensive talent can be on display. In the playoffs, good opponents will cash in regularly if the Caps constantly parade to the penalty box. I don't think this team has that kind of margin of error.

Finally, and this flaw was glaringly apparent in person Friday night, this team lacks defensive toughness. I know Scott Stevenses don't grow on trees, but this team has no one on the blueline that intimidates opposing forwards. Teams skate into the offensive zone without fear and are rarely impeded. This puts pressure on the goaltenders and pressure on the offense to score. Then chances are taken to score which leads to defensive breakdowns which continues the vicious cycle. I love Bruce Boudreau's aggressive puck possession system; he simply needs defensmen that aren't too wimpy to hit somebody at the blue line or lay lumber on a forward who takes one too many swipes at the goaltender.

This post has been terribly gloomy, but I feel that the forecast is much sunnier than I've written here. The Caps' strengths, in my opinion, far outweigh these weakness. However, these weaknesses loom large enough to take down, what I believe is, a Stanley Cup contender. I hope they address these flaws soon. The trading deadline nears, but it would be even better if they started today when Pittsburgh comes to town. If not, it won't matter what hat I'm wearing on my next trip to Verizon Center.

Is Mommy Home Yet?

Being a part-time stay at home dad has been terrific so far. Z is out of town this week so I haven't had the usual Manny/Mentor assignment, which has left even more QT for Grace and I. She usually has a delightful demeanor and is a joy to play with. As she grows older, having just turned 4 four months, she requires a lot more interaction and entertaining. This is fine by me, but some days it seems I empty my entire bag of tricks and she still isn't satisfied.

Fortunately, Grace is learning to entertain herself (Hey look, I have hands!) and loves to play on her activity mat. I also love the mat because after spending some time on the floor with her I can sneak away to do some nearby chores while she talks to the lights and animals that hang overhead. Every once in a while, though, I place her on the mat and get a look that says "Are you serious, this same mat again? Do I look stupid?". So, now, not wanting my daughter to think that I think she is stupid(there will plenty of time for that when she is a teenager), I scoop her up and grab the next weapon in my arsenal. However, it is crushing when, after singing, reading poem after story after poem, dancing(don't ask), voicing finger puppets, playing in the mirror and walking around the house doing any of the above, she still is fussing. It's a double kick in the nuts when you look at the clock and your hours of entertaining have actually only taken like three minutes. I feel like a magician who reaches into his hat only to remember he didn't pack the rabbit. Maybe I should have gone to clown college.

A-Rod Takes His Medicine (Legally This Time)

"A-Rod is not a douchebag." With this statement, my wife nearly caused me to run off the road, for I do indeed think A-Rod is a douchebag and was surprised to hear a defense of him come from the passenger seat. She had heard a portion of A-Fraud's press conference on the radio and thought he came off sounding pretty good. I watched the entire thing on tv and couldn't disagree with her more.

Let the record show that I can't stand Alex Rodriguez for many reasons that long pre-date his steroid revelations. I give him credit for standing up, admitting he used banned substances and taking some lumps for it. That alone is far more than Mark "I'm not here to talk about the past" McGwire has done. And Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens have clung so tightly to their lies that they are in jeopardy of serving time for perjury. (However, I really feel the Feds must surely have better things to investigate than whether overgrown boys were on the juice. I know, I know-they are being accused of lying to Congress, a big no-no. But, in my opinion, it was a foolish waste of time and taxpayer dollars to haul them in front of Congress in the first place.) As for A-Roid, had he given more open answers today, I would have been even more impressed. Instead, he was trying to do some image polishing with a wink and a nod; just like his PR army instructed, no doubt.

To me, there is no halfway here; if he went this far, then we need full disclosure. I don't mean that I need to know which ass cheek he got his injections in, but tell us what you were using. Playing coy, using steroid nicknames, and saying he didn't even know if he was using them correctly doesn't really wash with me. He must think I am young and naive if he thinks I believe, as he said, that he was too young, stupid and naive to know better. First of all he wasn't that young when he rocked the juice. He was age 25,26 and 27 during the seasons he juiced. He kept saying he was a stupid kid,23,at the time, but anybody with a brain can calculate what age he actually was at the time. Not that that distinction even matters. Age 23 isn't a kid and I know plenty of 23-year-olds who are mature, intelligent people capable of making the right decision. Rodriguez's transgressions were no silly youthful indiscretions and his claims to that effect just make him even less genuine. Here is a man blessed with more athletic ability than most humans and he still feels the need to cheat. I believe every world class athlete knows exactly what they are putting in their bodies. Don't insult my intelligence by telling me that well, "We knew they weren't tic tacs." Ha, ha, ha. No shit, Dr. Dummy.

It was just this casual "fakeness" that really upset me. He wants to get out in front of this story, but doesn't want to do the heavy lifting. There were too many quotes and examples of this to list them all, so here are only a few. He said God put him in a position to help "make the world a better place" by spreading the anti-steroid message. Please, that one doesn't even need analysis. Then he said he just wanted to be judged from this day forward. That's exactly the tone the entire press conference had for me. Let me throw the reporters a few bones, sound as contrite as a cardboard cutout possibly can and then I can sweep this entire mess under the rug. It's not that easy. Truthfully, I don't give a damn what these guys do to their bodies. Not my liver, not my balls. However, many people do care so there is no way this story is going away. The last straw for me, though, was when a reporter asked A-Rod if injecting the steroids like he had, was cheating. Alex would have gained an enormous amount of respect from me had he simply looked into the camera and said yes. Instead, he dodged the question. Nice honesty, douchebag.

Something's Fishy.

From the Insubstantial, But Annoying Dept:Riddle me this-Why would Cheesecake Factory put cole slaw on their fish tacos? Was it to cover up the fact that the "grilled" tuna on the tacos appeared to have the flavor boiled right out of it? Or is because carrots and cabbage are things you usually find on tacos? And if one is going to put coleslaw on tacos shouldn't one include that on the list of ingredients (that included every other thing on the plate) in the menu? Have I now asked so many unimportant questions that I have become insubstantial and annoying?

Fast Forward Five Years

Dad Gone Mad is a blog that I regularly read and enjoy. Reading today's post was like hopping in a time machine heading five years into the future when Grace is five.

America the Stupid.

I know making sweeping generalizations is often a dangerous way to give an opinion. It allows no wiggle room for details and can unintentionally insult people. But I'm not going to let that stop me from criticizing two things that I recently noticed.

This is the part where my wife usually tells me that I am being judgmental and condescending, reminding me that I have tried neither of the two things that I am about to rip. She often punctuates this admonishing with an all too accurate impersonation of me huffing and puffing about how stupid something is. I acknowledge that she is usually correct and that I often enjoy, with the exceptions of roller coasters and waiting in line at Coldstone Creamery , the things I choose to negatively prejudge. However, like the General Lee through a "Bridge is Out" sign, I will gleefully proceed down this dangerous road.

So why am I calling you out, America? Exhibit A of your common stupidity is Paul Blart, Mall Cop. How on earth was this movie the top grossing movie in America for consecutive weeks? Kevin James in a porn moustache? Hilarious. (As an aside, hasn't the whole "moustaches are funny just because they are moustaches" joke run its course? When retro gags become dated themselves it is time to quit.) I'm not sure what Blart was playing against the weeks it finished number one. That it was the only movie showing that week seems like the only reasonable answer. If a fat guy in a security uniform doing slapstick pratfalls is all you need to make a blockbuster, then sign me up. Somebody get me a plastic badge, I'm gonna be rich! Sheesh.

Issue number two is less about being stupid than it is unnecessary. I give you, as seen on tv, the Snuggie. Never mind that it sounds like something I'd have to pay a hooker extra for, do I really need a blanket with sleeves? I think I've seen that somewhere before, oh yeah, hanging in my closet. It's called a robe. Mine comes in flannel; I didn't see that possiblity offered in your infomercial. Those poor helpless people in the commercial who can't hold a phone and stay warm at the same time, whose hands are "trapped" underneath a blanket-God forbid they have real problems. The only practical application I could see for the Snuggie is using them in place of hospital gowns. Then my giant ass might actually be covered while I wait for Dr. Coldhands. Though, I'd probably still manage to put it on backwards.

I'm sure with this post I have offended at least one friend or reader who can't wait until Blart comes out on DVD so they can wrap themselves in their Snuggie and watch from their couch. And if history is any indicator, my wife and I will be right there with them, me wearing my Snuggie and my Wife wearing her "I told you so" face.

Boudreau Off The Top Rope!

As if I needed one more reason to love Caps coach Bruce Boudreau. He's candid, funny, creative, appeared in Slapshot and now this. I don't even like wrestling, but for nostalgia's sake alone this is good stuff.

What Have I Wrought?

A couple of Sundays ago, thanks to the generosity of my cousin and people she knows, I found myself sitting in the Club level at Verizon Center for the Caps-Senators game. The story that follows serves as a portal to look into my sad, superstitious little mind.

As Alex Ovechkin scored his second goal early in the second period against a Sens defense that was imploding before my very eyes, I had two related thoughts-there is plenty of time for Ovie to notch a hat trick and, if he does put up that third goal, I am close enough to consider tossing my hat to the ice as tradition dictates. Sure enough, midway through the period, Ovechkin fires a laser through the defenseman's skates and past the goalie for his hat trick goal. The crowd explodes from its seats (something I can't do as easily in the cheaper, narrower "Fat Guys Should Not Sit Here" seats that I'm normally relegated to in the upper deck). High fives are slapping, the foghorn is blaring and the music is wailing. Swept up in the moment I decide, for the first time in my hockey fan career, to toss my hat towards the ice. Great game, great moment to celebrate, right? Not exactly.

You see, the hat I casually tossed away was undefeated. (Here's where the sad, superstitious part comes in.) As soon as the hat left my hand I cursed myself for casting it aside in such a fleeting moment. Prior to this season, I hadn't seen the Caps win in person in a long time, maybe since the lockout. This season, however, I've been to four games and witnessed four victories. Never mind that the Caps have stunk for a couple seasons and this year they are one of the best home teams in the league, surely it is something my friends and I are doing to assure victory. After two victories I thought maybe it was my new Caps hat purchased in the off-season. After three victories I really started searching for common denominators. St4rbux, of Name Your Fear, had been to all three games, but wasn't at this fourth, Ottawa victory. Maybe, if I'm lucky, it is the jersey- t shirt combo that I "happen" to have worn to all four victories. Or maybe it's just me, lucky ol' me. No, that can't be right.

So, possibly, by tossing the hat I have doomed myself to see no more Caps victories in person this season. The first test will be two Fridays from now when I visit Verizon next. I apologize in advance to my seatmates. Unfortunately, if it was the hat, I have broken the victory spell. If they do win, I'll remain a slave to my other superstitions.

Two perhaps karmic sidenotes to the game:
1)My hat did not reach the ice from the club level, instead it clipped a little girl in the arm. She was not bothered in the least and her dad tossed the hat onward, but I felt about "this big". In terms of bothering a child at a Caps game it is only surpassed by my inadvertent insulting of Bobby Carpenter's son back in the 1990's.
2)I found out after the game that the hats scooped from the ice after hat tricks are left ,for a brief time, at a lost-and-found spot in the arena so the owners may reclaim them. This info would have been more useful were I not already off the Metro and in my car when I received it. Damn it.

Gracie Goes To Washington.

Grace's first trip into D.C. (If you don't count in Mommy's belly.)

Grab Bag

A hastily cobbled-together collection of what's been on my radar lately. (It's quite possible you'll be dumber after having read this.)

- I think the new Castrol Think with your dipstick! commercial is hilarious. Everything time that Scottish dude shouts it, I laugh my ass off. The Super Bowl Castrol grease monkey ad wasn't too bad either.

-The Angry Whopper is not that angry. Tasty, but dissapointingly, not angry.

-Great thing about our newly aquired HDtv-Hockey in HD. Best thing about HDtv-The Food Network's Giada DeLaurentis working with her melons in HD.

-Went ice skating tonight for the first time in nearly two years. First time on an outdoor rink. Damn, that was fun.

-Thanks to my friend Jack who led me to this hilarious infomercial that I'm still not convinced isn't a spoof: http://www.tiddybearcomfortstrap.com/. Watch, listen and enjoy.