If ESPN doesn’t figure out how to play commercials during breaks and NOT during play, I am going to drive down to Bristol and take the studio by storm. My god, people, its radio, not mullet-styling! There’s no replays when you are listening online, so if you miss it – you missed it. The only alternative I have is actually traveling to some of these hellholes called arenas, and I’ve done enough of that for a lifetime. Come on, Bob, don’t put up with this crap – tell your engineers to get it together.

This is particularly painful because they can’t broadcast local ads due to the arcane law of internet broadcasting. Therefore, I listen to the same 3 ads every 5 minutes throughout the game. When this first started, they weren’t sure how exactly to handle it, so they simply didn’t play any ads at all. This meant that during stoppages in play, those of us listening online got to hear Bob and Kevin’s ‘off-air’ conversation and comments about the game, players, and fans. Very good stuff.

So, what is the Pack up to these days? Half-assed efforts (is a good effort full-assed or no-assed? anyone know?) are the order of the day, as the Pack continues to play parts of games. McGill’s comments to the press, which were originally entertaining in their blunt refusal to take responsibility, are now annoying. I mean, if players aren’t doing what they are supposed to do, isn’t it the coach’s job to motivate/frighten/inspire them? I’m a high school teacher, so I feel I am allowed to expect this – I make a tiny fraction of what the coach does, and I am held to much higher standards with teenagers whose own parents can’t motivate them off the couch than this man is with highly trained adults who in theory love this game a LOT more than my students love chemistry.

One other tidbit I can share from my knowledge of teenagers, from which many of these guys are just barely removed, is that holding up one player as an example and publicly shaming the rest doesn't do much for the team - it embarrasses the chosen one, and angers the rest. No one likes to be humiliated. Doing it once has a certain shock value, but over time all it does it turn the group against the one in charge. There is a certain kind of person, I suppose, who can unite the group in dislike against him and still retain power, but that person is unlikely to be a coach just in his first year at this level. McGill is walking a very dangerous line. Hockey fans in Hartford aren't stupid, and they will soon realize, if they don't already, that McGill has been hiding behind his fingerpointing for too long.

I don’t even know that I agree with him. Yes, there certainly are guys who are playing at less than 100%, like there always are. And I am sure there are guys who aren’t adhering to ‘the system’, that mythological being that led to the ouster of Paddock and the installation of a coach more obedient to commandments from MSG. But, given that this team is so young, and such a collection of individuals who have been bought, not raised, by the organization, perhaps the problem is that they don’t really think like a team yet. Not in the sense of the arrogant Rangers, but in that they are kids who are so raw that they are more worried about not making a fool of themselves on the ice than remembering what they are supposed to do in any play more complicated than ‘dead meat.’

Recently the Pack has been playing with just 5 defenseman, only one of whom had any professional experience before this year. Our grizzled vet on the blueline is Matt Kinch, a second year pro who played 40 games for Hartford last year. Three of the other blueliners - Jeff State, Pat Aufiero and Dean Arsene – came to Hartford after being recalled from Charlotte, and Bryce Lampman had to be hastily signed out of juniors just to fill out the ranks. The 6th spot was taken for a game or two by the Pack’s captain, Kenny Gernander, in his first career turn on the blueline. No wonder, then, that our defense was suspect at times.

How did we get into this mess? Vlad Chebaturkin, Mike Mottau and Craig Weller were injured. Joel Bouchard and Richard Lintner were called up. Tomas Kloucek was traded. Fedor Tjutin went home. Cory Cross’s ‘conditioning assignment’ lasted just one game before he was called up to New York. Charlotte is so depleted that all they could offer was Nic Bilotto, who was so ineffective that he was sent home even before Vlad returned to give us 6 healthy dmen for the first time in months.

On forwards, we have collection of career goons in Krzyszof Oliwa, Richard Scott, Garrett Burnett and the recently recalled Gordie Dwyer and Billy Tibbetts – youngster Bobby Andrews has styled himself as an addition to this crew. Dixon Ward, Ken Gernander, Nils Ekman and the recently recalled Ted Donato, while making the lion’s share of the offensive contribution on the team, could hardly be called prospects. The youngsters Benoit Dusablon, Garth Murray, Layne Ulmer have yet to prove themselves, although Benoit has shown great playmaking skills and Garth was a physical force last year. Only John Tripp and Roman Lyashenko have definitively distinguished themselves, and while Roman was a victim of waiver rules, John apparently has somehow angered the hockey gods and been sentenced to a lifetime in the minors.

You have to wonder what Sather is thinking. Al Coates is actually our GM, but I no longer have to wonder what he thinks – he and I had words at a game regarding his signing of Tibbetts, and I stay clear of him now. I assume Al does the bidding of Sather, and is given as much leeway to run Hartford as Trotts has to run his bench in New York. I would imagine Al is hardly in a position to refuse to send up a player who gets the call from Slats. Al could sign someone to an AHL contract, but it’s unlikely that a young investment player would be available on that market. So, its Sather’s fault that the farm has been pillaged, with no restitution made.

What is he thinking? It’s like someone who is given a sack of seeds with which to plant a farm, but then decides that would take too long – he’s hungry NOW. So, instead of working for the future, he makes a bowl of porridge with them and gobbles it down. A few hours later, hungry, he realizes that there’s nothing left. Not now, and not in the future. I know Sather wants to *stifled laugh* win the cup this year, but at what price? Given that those dreams are laughable at that point, why does the farm continue to be sacrificed?

A last thought from the New Year’s Eve game – if we have that many toughs on our team, why is it that when Patty Aufiero was just knocked unconscious by a dirty hit, not a single Pack player stood up for his teammate? Our captain gets mugged every night, but it always goes unpunished, not even a dirty look in response. We lead the league in PIM with over a 1000 before we even hit the halfway mark, but yet we can’t spare a few for team camaraderie.

To amuse myself (and likely not all that many others) I have written some New Year’s resolutions for a few of the Pack’s more colorful players. Because I have gotten lazy with this long layoff from school and indulgence in too much rich food and drink, I haven’t bothered to try to write them for everyone. Deal with it.

I, Dixon Ward, resolve to allow my temper to rule my game, because anger has gotten me 33 points in 23 games. I am angry that I was sent down. I am angry that I am playing on the ‘old man’ line. I am angry that Ted just got called up and I have now shaved my head for no good reason. And since my league-leading points streak was snapped this past weekend, I will get extra angry and beat down a few unsuspecting kids just for fun.

I, John Tripp, resolve to score another three hat tricks by the All Star break, just to see how much longer Sather can justify not calling me up. I will continue to crash the net, park my butt in the crease on power plays, double up the team in shots on goal (119) and goals scored (19), and generally demonstrate that I have the makings of a great power forward while sitting ignored in Hartford. In the meantime, I will continue to thrill small children with my missing front teeth and female fans with rumors of exotic piercings.

I, Layne Ulmer, resolve to be true to the power of the mullet. Even though it is no longer a true mullet cut (more of a Beatles-style mop-top) I promise to continue to nurture it with bad highlights and Hockey Falls commercials.

I, Jason LaBarbera, resolve to stop taking hair-care advice from Layne.

I, Mike Mottau, resolve to more frequently share my rhythmic talents with my fans, who with the loss of Army no longer have anyone to dance for them during warm-ups. My stylin’ moves during ‘Cotton-eyed Joe’ and ‘the wave’ while sitting in the stands showed not only that I can shake my groove thang, but also that my knee is nearly healed. I will not deny my adoring public any longer.

I, Jeff State, resolve to remember that the fans are on the other side of the glass and will not hurt me. Thus, I do not need to avoid making eye contact as if they were a particularly ferocious animal that might attack if provoked.

I, Garrett Burnett, resolve to continue finding amusing ways to ‘win’ fights that have become wrestling matches on the rare occasion that I am allowed to play. Pulling the shorts of opponents up or down is always good for a laugh from the crowd. I also promise to begin exploring post-hockey careers that would exploit my looks, such as soap-operas and ‘ladies entertainment’.

I, Richard Scott, resolve to stop attempting to look frightening by bleaching my hair, shaving my head, or growing bizarre facial hair that makes me look like a rodent on PCP. I will remember that I am insane, and that is frightening enough. My reputation, which is so great that I got a fighting major for turtling a few games back, is sufficient.

I, Garth Murray, resolve to shake off the lingering injury/nagging self-doubt/devastating breakup/irritating song stuck in my head and get back to being the force of nature I was last year in the playoffs. If wearing Jamie Lundmark’s old number is causing me to channel his delicate style of play, I will get a new number immediately and symbolically burn 16 at center ice.

I, Johan Holmqvist, resolve to lay off whatever substance was making me giggle hysterically through warm-ups this week, at least before games.

That's it for now folks - have a happy New Year, and I'll see you on the other side.

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