The Legend of Bobby Lou

When Roberto Luongo first entered the league, I didn't really like him. Perhaps it was because he was overhyped, perhaps it is because once he settled into the league, he was playing for my best friend's favourite team, I'm not really sure. As the years went by and the Panthers continued to toil in mediocirty despite Luongo's stellar goaltending, I grew to at least respect the fact that he was one of the best goalies in the world.

Once he was traded to Vancouver and I actually got to see him play on a regular basis, I grew to not only respect him, but to like his game. While technically sound, he wasn't the robot goalie I thought he was. When he needed to, he could make the acrobatic saves.

As time has gone on, hockey analysts have questioned his ability to win the big game. He never got Florida into the playoffs, and has never gotten the Canucks past the second round. In approximately four hours, we will find out just how clutch he is.

The legend of Roberto Luongo will be written tonight.

At 30 years of age, this is the time for Roberto Luongo. In what could be the biggest game of his career, a quarter final tilt against Canada's arch nemesis, this will be game that determines whether Luongo will be remembered as a hero or a choke artist. With the proverbial torch having been passed with Marty Brodeur sitting out the must-win game against Germany, it is now Luongo's crease.

I can't imagine the pressure he, or any other member of Team Canada, is feeling right now. None of us can. No matter how big a stage any of us average joe's ever find ourselves on in our lives cannot compare to what these guys are feeling right now. The thought of playing an intermural hockey game or a slopitch game in front of a hand full of fans is nerve racking enough for me. If you were to put me on the ice with not only all of Canada, but the entire hockey world, watching, I imagine I would probably pass out. It really amazes me just what these guys can do under that kind of pressure.

I will watch tonight with interest, and watch the legend of Bobby Lou unfold.

-matt

Change of Season

The winter has seemed a bit warmer than usual this year. Even though North Bay suffered through its traditional week of -35 degree weather, it has been much warmer than some of the others I have experienced. And as the temperatures inch slowly but steadily to zero, the snow begins to melt, the sidewalks turn to slush, and the smell of baseball begins to edge its way into my consciousness.

Often in early March, when my hips and knees start to tell me in their subtle way that they’ve had enough goaltending for one season, the weather turns warm and the number of skates left in the hockey season whittles down to single digits. I get a strange feeling at this time of year, a curious mix of relief, disappointment, and excitement. Relief that I can rest my knees and hips that take a pounding every winter dropping to the ice to make butterfly saves and getting up only to do it again ten seconds later. Disappointment that hockey season is winding down and is merely weeks away from being over. Excitement that baseball season is just around the corner.

This feeling has asserted itself early, coinciding with the warmer weather. There’s at least six weeks of hockey left, and yet the weather makes me feel as though I should be trading in my goalie stick and catching glove for a baseball bat and first baseman’s mitt any time now. Lately when I’ve picked up the baseball that I always have sitting on my desk and toss it in the air, I can't help but think that baseball season is just around the corner. But it isn’t.

It’s true that I love playing hockey more than anything, but I’ve played baseball longer than any sport I’ve ever taken up. For that reason, it will always be something that I look forward to. It is the ultimate summer sport, where most of the time you are either standing around in the field or on the base paths or sitting in the dugout. It’s no surprise that I, a goaltender, would be naturally drawn to baseball because, much like goaltending, baseball is a game played as much in your head as it is on the field.

Baseball is all about instinct. That instinct comes from experience. My baseball instincts are what make me a decent ball player. Sure being in good shape and being able to hit and catch and throw helps, but having the kind of honed instincts that can only come from years of playing baseball makes you that much better.

Knowing what base to throw the ball to before it gets to you, or even before the pitch is thrown; knowing the score and the situation and reacting the right way; knowing when to go for the extra base and knowing when to play it safe. I don’t have to think about these kinds of things anymore because I’ve played baseball for so long.

Last year I played for my third team in the past three seasons. Even though most of these guys I knew from hockey, it still took some time to get used to my new teammates and find my place. The plan is to play for the sporting store again, and I must say I’m looking forward to it. We were a competitive team that finished high in the standings, a farcry from the 0-26 season I endured the year before. We made it to the semi-finals and all things considered had a pretty good year.

I’m looking forward to doing it all over again.

-matt

Intensity

People often ask me if I actually have fun when I compete. A friend of mine who watched a lot of my baseball games last summer would always tell me that I looked so intense and focused that she couldn't imagine I was having any fun. I found this strange because there is nothing I would rather be doing.

Then I see the pictures. I always look angry; I always look like I'm ready to rip someone's head off. I can understand how someone might get the impression that I'm not having any fun. I present my current facebook picture as Exhibit A:
Yikes.

I was infamous in high school for that look when I played drums in band. Not even a conscious effort could remove it from my face. It became expected, and every time we would watch video of a past concert, everyone would wait for the camera to turn towards me and wait for the "matt is angry" face.

What it boils down to is this: I'm a very intense person. I take a lot of things very seriously; competing in sports is one of them. Over the years I've learned to harness this intensity, but that scowl on my face still remains. It extends beyond competing. As I mentioned, every time I sat behind a drum kit and played in front of people, that scowl reared its ugly face. Even sometimes when I'm in class or studying, people have commented that I never look like I'm enjoying myself much.

I suppose it's a bit strange, but I am a goaltender afterall.

-matt

Just Another Sunday

I don’t like to use the word hate, but in the interest of accuracy I’m going to in this case.

I hate football.

I have not watched a football game on TV from start to finish since I was … I dunno … 12 years old? It has been a long time and to be perfectly honest I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything. Maybe it’s the 10 seconds of action followed by a 30 second huddle that turns me off; maybe it’s the borderline unhealthy obsession most football fans have with their team.

I think it has more to do with that fact that, as I always say, football is too American for me. People always ask me what I mean by that, and I don’t really have a good answer. It was a game born in the United States and spread to Canada and is the most popular sport in North America. But only in North America. Hockey has spread to Europe, baseball to Japan and the Caribbean, and basketball is probably the most global sport outside of soccer. But not football. For some reason, that bothers me, that the all-American sport has invaded Canadian culture, but no one elses. I suspect that is because the older, and in my opinion the superior, sport of rugby already exists. It's yet another example of how dominant American influences are in Canadian culture, and it bugs me.

Today is apparently the Super Bowl, the be all, end all of football. Thank God.

I’m not even entirely sure what two teams are playing, and I really don’t care. What bothers me about the Super Bowl is the millions of people who don’t give a rat’s ass about football, but all of a sudden on Super Bowl Sunday are die-hard fans of one of the two teams involved. Hypocrisy at its worst. And people wonder why I don’t go to Super Bowl parties. Why would I sit through 3 hours of agonizing television that I have no interest in just to have a few beers with my friends? And that’s just the pre-game show.

So while all you die-hards of varying degrees are out cheering on your new favourite teams, I’ll be doing the same thing I generally do during Super Bowl Sunday: homework, study, watch a movie, or maybe even play some hockey. Just another Sunday evening for me.

-matt

The Big Trade

The salary cap era of the NHL has killed the excitement of the big trade simply because the big trade is so rare, and the timing of the big trades that do happen has become so predictable. There’s usually one or two at the trade deadline, one or two at the draft, and maybe one more just before the season starts.

So you can imagine the shock when my best friend, now a writer at the Hockey News, left me a voicemail yesterday at about 11:30 that said “Dion Phaneuf is now a Leaf”. My favourite player on my favourite team had been traded to Toronto. It’s a feeling that had become almost completely lost on me and quickly remembered in that moment.

But that wasn’t all. After getting home and firing up my computer to check things out online and get the details of the trade, my friend sent me another message: “Giguere is next”. What? How can that be? They are going to pull not one, but TWO huge trades in one day? Within hours of each other? Amazing. Sure enough, it was announced that Jean-Sebastien Giguere was also a Maple Leaf.

I don’t want to comment on the trades themselves, but rather the feeling you get when your team, or any team for that matter, pulls off a big trade completely out of nowhere. Brian Burke was right when he said in the news conference that these trades are good for the game and that it’s a shame they don’t happen more often in the salary cap world. It creates interest and creates excitement.

Sure there are still big trades, but like I said, they are predictable in their timing and the feeling isn’t the same as when they come mid-season completely out of the blue. You go into the trade deadline knowing there will be one or two big trades, and often you know exactly who the big name at the center of them will be before they happen. The only question is where will those players be going. You know going into the draft there will probably be a significant trade at some point. And it seems every off-season there is a disgruntled player who asks to be traded and ends up being moved sometime during the summer.

Yesterday was an exciting day. Let’s hope that in the future, two GMs are willing to roll the dice mid-season the way Brian Burke and Darryl Sutter did.

-matt