Foremost on my Mind: Mighty Canucks Have Struck Out

 

If you're as old as I think you are, you will recall the famous poem (at least in my mind), "Casey at the Bat." In it, you will remember, there was the huge build up to this so-called all-star slugger (Casey, of course) who is to save the game with his hitting prowess. Stanza after stanza, the tension is building, to the point that, when he comes to the plate at the end of the poem/game, it is his destiny to bring the base runners home and win the championship.

Well, to save you the tension of where I'm going with this (if you don't know already), Casey ends up striking out, and the other team wins. I'll never forget the last line, even though it has been probably forty-five years since I read it "...mighty Casey has struck out."

Fast forward to June 2011. A Casey of another sort has struck out. As I sat grimly in front of someone else's television the other day, eating fresh pizza from Costco, watching a bunch of millionaires play hockey on channel 911, I saw the Vancouver Canucks implode before my very eyes.

There is no doubt that the tougher, hungrier team won, and I say kudos to the Boston Bruins. An ugly, dirty, and cheap team, to be sure, but they did win the Stanley Cup mostly on the merit of grit and tenacity.

I don't know if my heartburn was from bad pizza or bad hockey, but I'm leaning towards the latter.

Guys who are paid to do what I am trying to do here will be filling column after broadcast, broadcast after column, with the gist of the following questions: What went wrong with the Vancouver Canucks? and, How could they lose what appeared to be theirs?

Well, the simple answer is that they didn't score enough goals at the right time. (Read that last line slowly again, if you want to.) You see, in order to win in any sport, you need to score more points than your opposition—even if it is one more goal, one more basket, one more touchdown. It works every time. No matter what the pundits say over the next few weeks, you will recall reading this simple yet cutting-edge answer here first.

It's part of most solutions in life, you know. You want to be the head of the class? Have the highest marks. You want your business to succeed? Make sure you make more money than you lose. You want to be the best runner? Make sure you finish ahead of whoever is in second place.

Sincerity, looks, tradition, rights, marketing, and whole host of other reasons do not factor in when finishing out on top. And in the context of this column, the Canucks should have won the Cup hands down; they will win so many other awards by the end of this week, possibly more than any other team in history. It's just that the Stanley Cup is the biggest mug of all, the most prestigious award in hockey. It is the Holy Grail, if you will, and all the others (combined) are mere styrofoam imitations. First place is fine, second place is sour (Do I sound like Ogden Nash, or what?)

Funny, as passionate as I am about the game in general, and that team in particular, my life was absolutely no different the day after the Canucks officially crashed and burned. I still had to milk the cow, cut the grass, pay my bills, and deal with my kids. Even as I sat there, glued to the set, I reminded myself that I'm watching guys who earn more money in two games than I earn in one year--by a huge margin, I'll have you know.

So what should the Canucks do for next year? I cannot say for sure, but I have a couple of suggestions: One, get tougher. They got pushed around far too much. Having Glass, Torres, Rome, and Lapierre, is a good start. Two, swing a blockbuster deal that involves Luongo and Bieksa (try the Philadelphia Flyers); both players are marketable, (usually) very good, but far too inconsistent. (On that basis, get a veteran goaltender who can then groom Schneider, the goalie of the future.)

I'm thinking Erhoff and Ballard (maybe even Salo) are gone, so they will have to look at replenishing their blueline big time, especially if there is that long-promised deal to get rid of Bieksa—something they were threatening to do back in October.

Just an idea, but maybe they should get some of the goons (note: they weren't fans) who were "protesting" out on Georgia Street after the game. Seems like they had more feistiness and spark than the players themselves did. Just give those morons a jersey and a stick, and tell them: "Go fetch the puck, Rover." It might work, it might not. But at least something might happen at the other end.

Anyways, hockey is over, at least for a couple of months. By the end of this week there will be some interesting drafting, some significant trades, and some unexpected retirements. The other blessing that comes with no more hockey is the players can start shaving and stop spitting.

And just to be safe, if they trade for someone, make sure he doesn't have the initials K.C.