FOR THOSE OF YOU living on the East Coast that can’t afford to stay up past network prime time, thanks to minor inconveniences like jobs, families and/or children, I offer my sincerest condolences. For the rest of us losers, there’s playoff hockey. Or more specifically, Western Conference playoff hockey. Hockey as God intended it: no boring neutral zone traps, no lumbering clutch-and-grab forwards, no Bobby Holik. Just old style, rough and tumble, run and gun, throw everything on goal and crash the net in a whirlwind of snow and sweat, elbows up and stick on the ice, hockey. And this year’s first round is delivering in a big time Pavol Demitra kind of way. For starters, every team has a win, so no one goes home empty-handed (though that never happens anyway, as each team participating in the playoffs gets a year’s supply of Just for Men’s Mullet Rejuvenator (take it from Melrose, it’s “Barry” good) and a copy of the NHL home game). The first round also features some tight, nail-biting, anything can happen endings in which the slightest bounce, the smallest deflection, the tiniest mistake can be the difference between another two weeks of hockey and an 8AM tee-time in the Brian Leetch Late-April Pro-Am Classic. As of Wednesday, the scoring differential between winning teams (34) and losing teams (32) was a mere two goals! Do you know what that means?! Absolutely nothing! But doesn’t it sound interesting?! Sure it does! Why am I shouting?! I don’t know! But it’s the NHL playoffs! And the playoffs rule!

The Western Conference features a potential major upset of a dominant regular season team, an emerging sleeper with all the tools to win the Stanley Cup, a once-disparaged goalie emerging from zero to hero, and the miraculous return of Peter Forsberg. What more could you want? The competition is tighter, the quality of play is better, the hits are harder, the goals are flashier, the stars are all performing—and did I mention that there’s no Bobby Holik. But enough jibber-jabber, let’s get to the games.

Western Conference

Detroit vs Vancouver (Series tied, 2-2)

It’s not officially the playoffs for me until Dominik Hasek throws his glove at someone, and I was slightly concerned that the Wings would get bounced before he even had the chance. The Canucks surged into the series—Tip #1 from Todd Bertuzzi’s new book, “Ten Secrets for Gaining Momentum into the Postseason” must revolve around starting your playoff beard about a month early—but thanks to some heroics courtesy of their captain, the Wings are back to square one with two critical victories in the hostile Pacific Northwest. But the bigger, faster, younger Canucks outshot Detroit almost 2-to-1 in the last loss, and have outplayed the Cup favorites in every aspect of the game, including (get this) goaltending. Save for a mid-ice clunker in Game Three, Dan Cloutier has been nothing short of brilliant—this Dan Cloutier, of course, should not be confused with the Dan Cloutier traded by Neil Smith (along with Niklas Sundstrom and a 1st round pick) for fitness guru and minor league sniper Pavel Brendl, because as far as I’m concerned (and I’m sure that all Ranger fans will back me up here), that trade NEVER HAPPENED. Anyway, Steve Yzerman, as good as he’s been, is playing on crutches, Brett Hull and Luc Robitaille apparently retired a month ago, Hasek is flopping around like a croppy, and Scotty Bowman is taking bids for his President’s Trophy on eBay. It’s too early to push the panic button in Hockeytown—you still have to favor the Wings in a three-game series with home ice advantage—but even if they survive round one, they’re limping into the semis against (most likely) a hungry, gritty, nasty Blues team. Suddenly it’s not so much fun having all those Olympians, is it? Stock the BenGay and hold the deposit on the parade floats, because this Wings team is in trouble with a capital T, and that rhymes with B and that stands for Bertuzzi. (Jeez, I’m only three columns in and I’m already referencing the showtunes. Get it together, Leedsy! You can act like a man! Sorry, am I speaking out loud again?)

Colorado vs Los Angeles (Avalanche lead series, 3-1)

There’s hockey, there’s playoff hockey, and then there Aves vs Kings. Every game has been a deathmatch, every whistle has a post-play fracas, every goal is a highlight, every hit is a bone-cruncher. Make no mistake, these two teams hate each other, which is odd because both owe a debt of thanks to their counterpart for making them what they are. LA took the champs to seven games last season, and with the addition of Jason Allison—who I’ve already penciled in as next season’s MVP—many pundits had the Kings primed to play spoiler this year. But then Peter Forsberg returned and the whole equation changed. And leave it to Stan Fischler—the NHL’s version of the Angel of Death--to criticize Forsberg’s return because he thinks PF might upset team chemistry. If you ever meet Stan Fischler and he tells you that you’re “lookin’ good”, get yourself to a doctor right away. Fischler is a very very angry and bitter old man. Why not just say that Forsberg doesn’t have the spleen for the game anymore? Come on, Maven! Peter Forsberg is only an elite player that is everything right with the NHL (and probably the most complete forward of the past 10 years), and with him not just healthy but playing like he’s ready to tear someone’s head off, I have to think that Colorado has officially unseated New Jersey as “the team to beat”. LA’s got a strong foundation with Allison, Ziggy Palffy, Adam Deadmarsh, and the most underrated defensive corps in the league (made of, groan, ex-Rangers), but beyond their top line they’re doing it with mirrors, which can’t possibly work over the long haul. But I can’t criticize LA (or Colorado) because this is exactly the way that professional hockey should be played: everyone hits, everyone fights, everyone battles for loose pucks, the nastiness polices itself, the goalies shine, the players move freely through the zone, and the game is ultimately decided by which team’s top player wants it more. Are you listening, Gary Bettman? Are you? Hello? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?

And now, a brief intermission
Some random thoughts and distractions from around the league that have kept me amused and up at night:

—I’m not being skeptical, I’m just saying that the phrase “good things happen when you throw the puck towards the net” is really subject to opinion.

—Number of shots on goal by the Ave’s defensemen in Game One: 8. Number of times Ray Bourque said “uh” while relaying that stat to you: 12. (Bourque actually improved throughout the week as a guest commentator on NHL 2Nite, but I really have to question the motivation of one of the league’s greatest stars to take such a demeaning gig. Can’t hockey take a tip from the other major sports and just have their definable legends remain permanently untouchable, becoming magical icons that are paraded out to wave to fans during crucial franchise moments? Can’t we leave the broadcast schlep jobs to third-tier “chicken parm” types and let the Ray Bourque’s of the game fade into hyperbolic memory? Can’t every sports star lose the will to live beyond their athletic achievements? Is this possible? (Sigh) Look, all I’m saying is that Mark Messier should never have to share a dressing room with Brian Engblom or Darren Pang.)

—Dumbest (and dirtiest) phrase I actually heard uttered by Bill Clement: “No one, and I mean no one, comes off the wall like Zigmund Palffy.”

—Has there ever been a better ad campaign geared toward a small minority than the Budweiser Hockey Falls commercials? Call me a crazy hockey nut, but I could laugh all day at Barry Melrose jokes. It’s humor that only a diehard would understand. You had me at Espo, Bud Light. You had me at Espo.

—Can my remark in the opening paragraph officially put an end to the “meanwhile in Hilton Head” golf jokes directed at the Rangers? I get it, jackoff, they didn’t make the playoffs. If I have to hear one more “bunker save by Richter” comment, I might have to slap the Reijo Ruotsalainen out of someone. And it’s not that I’m opposed to the whole “harass the guy who’s team stinks” thing—as far as I’m concerned, that’s the whole point of being a fan—but it’s just that I would like to hear something new and creative for a change. Hockey players have tons of other off-season interests other than golf. For example, Eric Lindros likes to fish. Consider that a freebie, Flyer fans. Go nuts.

—Contrary to what has been reporter elsewhere, the best name in hockey right now is Phoenix’s Dan Focht. For comedy’s sake I’m praying he has two brothers named Ben and Shelby.

—And lastly, what was with the Islander fans chanting “1967” during their rout over the Leafs the other night. You guys have one meaningful razz in the entire history of your crappy franchise and now you have to flaunt it out for every two-bit overnight rivalry that walks through the Coliseum doors. I thought that shouting the year that your enemy its last Cup was something special we had between us. Guess I was wrong about you, Islander fans. You dirty sluts.

And play resumes…

San Jose vs Phoenix (Sharks lead series, 3-1)

Shark vs Coyotes, or as Barry Melrose calls them, the Kai-Yutes: pronounced “Kai” as in Cobra Kai and “Yutes” as in the two men on trial in “My Cousin Vinny” (and yes I am well aware that I’ve just run the entire gamut of Ralph Macchio’s career). Phoenix should get an automatic pass into the playoffs every season just for having one the league’s greatest spectacles: the White Out. Classic fan behavior. (Incidentally, nice try mooching the idea, New Jersey Devils. Way to ruin hockey again. You guys can’t even sell out a building in the playoffs, let alone get your audience—60% of which I guarantee are just distracted Ranger fans—to dress alike. Maybe next round you can throw rats on the ice or something.) I’ll freely admit that I know very little about the ‘Yotes, other than what John Buccigross tells me, but there is one trend that greatly disturbs: Bob Francis HAS got to be Coach of the Year, with Bob Francis finishing a close second, and an Honorable Mention going to Bob Francis. This team held a fire sale last year and was just hoping to use the season to groom some of their youngsters and maybe finish in position for a lottery pick—82 games later they’re nipping at the fins of a major Cup contender. It’s impressive, especially when you consider that one of their top players, Daniel Briere, is only 12 years old. The Sharks, on the other hand, have the tools, have the talent, look healthy (which has been their Achilles swim bladder in past years), have three lines that can score, are well coached, and blah blah blah—I’m not jumping on the San Jose bandwagon just yet. I’ll root for Adam Graves, I’ll pull for Matteau Matteau, but much like their head coach Darryl Sutter, there just isn’t anything all that interesting or funny about them…yet. And I stress ”yet”. I think the Sharks are pulling the old “Survivor” strategy of flying below the radar, lying low, hoping to catch some of the more brazen teams by surprise, giving some gifts to the weaker teams, throwing the immunity challenges: outwitting, outplaying, outlasting. And it’s a plan that’s just crazy enough to work. Otherwise, if the Coyotes want to get past the first round, they’re going to need a bigger boat.

St.Louis vs Chicago (Blues lead series, 3-1)

After Game One, I had a “Mike Richter’s been looking for houses in St.Louis” joke lined up after Brent Johnson flubbed an Alexander Karpovtsev snapshot, but since then BJ has posted three straight shutouts and shattered some playoff records, and he hasn’t so much as broken a sweat doing it. I’m impressed, but I also need to point out that the two big goaltending stories in the NHL right now—Johnson and Patrick Lalime—also have the two hardest defensemen to play against in front of them (Chris Pronger and the vastly VASTLY underrated Zdeno Chara). What else about the Blues? Hmmm. They’re dangerous, they’re tough, they’re going to make life miserable for someone in the next round—I’m actually hoping that Detroit squeezes by Vancouver so the Blues have a chance to buzz a withered Brett Hull right out of the playoffs (but I’m also a vindictive SOB, so don’t listen to me). And I guess there’s another team in this first-round, but based on the way they’re playing, you wouldn’t know it. My pre-series opinion of Chicago was apparently shared by the Blues: I can’t take any team seriously as long as they have Jocelyn Thibault in goal. I guess the Blackhawk coaching staff felt the same way, since they pulled JT in a move that reeks of Philadelphia-esque desperation. Steve Passmore played as well as he can in Game Four, but the intensity just isn’t there for Chicago: the power play is a dud, Tony Amonte’s face is on milk cartons, the Euro-rehab projects (Alexei Zhamnov and Michael Nylander) are getting bullied by Pronger, Daze is dozing, Steve Sullivan is playing like a guy they found off of waivers two years ago, and with the exception of Kyle Calder and Aaron Downey, no one else seems the least bit interested in playing physical. Passmore or pass less—it doesn’t matter. Figure the Blues to go marching on in five.

And that’s the first round. I’m pumped. Are you pumped? This is hockey at it’s finest. If you’re a Ranger fan like me, this is the stuff that you missed from late December to late March. And it’s worth staying up for. So until we meet again for another edition of “Stanley Cup Fever”, stay in bed, keep working the cold compresses, and be sure to watch these West Coast hockey games. And may God have mercy on my soul for saying this, but Go Isles!

Brian

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