Black and, uh, Teal

The collective jaw of Bruins Nation hit the rain-soaked floor earlier tonight upon news that Joe Thornton was traded to the San Jose Sharks.

Given that the Bruins were in turmoil, struggling through most of the season, a move to shake things up should not come as a great surprise. Many Bruins fans, myself included, clamored for the team to make such a move.

But trading Thornton? That caught everyone by surprise, even leading to some diehard fans questioning their allegiance to the Black and Gold.

Though this certainly isn't a knock against any of the players the Bruins received in return -- Brad Stuart, Wayne Primeau and Marco Sturm -- but it will be hard to replace Thornton, on and off the ice. I've seen too many people wearing Thornton jerseys not just at games, but in malls, on the streets and in other cities.

As a hound, I've crossed paths with Thornton many times over the years. Some of my autographs carry the number 6, rather than the current 19. He's signed pucks for me, my son and my nephew. For the most part, he was a likeable enough guy.

My favorite Thornton story took place not too long ago. Standing outside a Boston hotel, waiting for Sidney Crosby and the rest of the Pittsburgh Penguins to head out for dinner, I spied a tall guy wearing a Team Canada truckers hat walking toward me.

At first, I thought it was Sid the Kid, dressing down in an attempt to elude a handful of hounds. As he drew closer, though, I realized this guy was too tall to be The Next One.

He ducked his eyes at my moment of recognition. It was too late. I knew it was Joey.

Seeing that he was with friends and family, I made no move to get yet another autograph. I did offer some advice as he walked past.

"Behave yourself tonight, Joey," I said.

"I'm always behaved," he said, flashing a smile.

Godspeed, Joey.

I rest my case, your honor

With Momma having to spend the day at work, Colin and I headed down to the Garden to watch the Bruins play the Philadelphia Flyers yesterday. While watching our favorite game with some of our favorite people is an easy recipe for a great day, the main reason why we left Boston reared its ugly head.

Thanks to one wicked awesome Bruins fan, we had tickets in the second row in the Bruins zone. Trust me, too, when I say that the game takes on an entirely different perspective when you’re that close – facial expressions are crystal clear, crushing bodychecks produce shockwaves and it’s easy to feel that you’re part of the game.

The problem, though, is that some people feel compelled to steal your seats. After spending the first period down low, we made our way over to where our friends were sitting, with intentions of watching the second stanza there. Midway through the period, the original ticket holders arrived (mind you, these folks were half a game late), so Colin and I packed up, bid good-bye to our friends and headed to the concourse.

On our way down, one fan couldn’t resist making a comment that we should go sit in our "real seats." I politely (in the loosest definition of the term) informed this gentleman that we were indeed headed that way and that we would enjoy a much better view than he would.

The exchange, though somewhat civil, had an effect on Colin.

"Did we get in trouble, Daddy?" he asked.
"No, not much," I replied.
"That man yelled at us," he said.
"Well, Daddy yelled back at him," I said.
"Did we steal those seats?" he asked.
"Well, in a way, we did. That isn’t right, is it?" I said.
"No, Daddy," he said, "it’s not."

After the period ended, we met up with out friends again. They told us that two seats remained empty and we should join them. They also told us that the gentleman who engaged us also had to leave the section, apparently he, too, didn’t have the right to sit there.

At first, we thought about joining our friends. But as we were walking up the tunnel, Colin asked one very smart question: "Daddy, won’t we be stealing those seats again?" He was right. If we went back there, we would be stealing those seats. In a heartbeat, we turned around and headed back to our seats.

It wasn’t much of a surprise, then, when we found two people – young girls – sitting in our seats. I politely asked them if we could have our seats back. Their father, sitting in the front row, told me, without looking at me, that we had left those seats. I agreed, but reminded him that we were back and wanted to sit there.

"Besides," I said, "what kind of lesson are you trying to teach your children? That it’s OK to cheat and steal?"

He turned to confront me and then realized that not only did I have height, size and conviction over him, but I also was clutching the tickets. He also saw Colin. Sheepishly, he told his daughters that they had to go. But rather than heading back to his original seats, most likely in the Garden’s upper tier, he simply moved one section over.

Apparently, I was the only parent to learn a lesson that day.

One of the major reasons we left the Boston area (besides the area’s overinflated cost of living and its misplaced sense of importance) is that we wanted to live in an area that valued substance over style. And while I confess to painting my distaste for this Boston attitude with a very wide brush, these exchanges only confirmed our decision.

Thankfully, too, we’ve come to realize that good people, like Marilyn, Jaci and Tracy, are the exceptions, rather than the norm, to our perceptions. Should my job hunt lead us to relocate, and it likely will, it’s these kind folks who will provide us with the most pleasant memories of our time in New England.

A classic moment

Following the Manchester Monarchs' shootout loss to the Portland Pirates on Thanksgiving Eve, the usual group of suspects (myself included) gathered outside the players’ entrance to the Cumberland County Civic Center looking to score some autographs.

Though the night offered the opportunity to land quite a few top prospects, there was one particular player who drew plenty of attention.

Manchester’s Yutaka Fukufuji, an eighth–round (238th overall) draft pick in 2004 of the Los Angeles Kings, served as the backup goalie in the contest. The fact, however, that he was born in Tokyo, Japan, drew the interest and, quite humorously, produced a classic moment in my hounding career.

As he left the CCCC for the team bus, a group of young fans approached him. "Are you the Japanese goalie," they asked.

With a roll of his eyes and a quick smile, Fukufuji told them that, yes, he was the "Japanese goalie."

A minute or so later, as he was signing two pucks for me (shown above), I asked how often he heard that question.

"A lot," he said. "And you’d think (as he pointed to his face) that it would be easy to see."

Get ’em while you can

If I ever get around to posting my collection of autographed pucks, observers will notice that No. 1 draft picks make up a fairly significant component.

Good (Sidney Crosby, Eric Staal, Joe Thornton, etc.) or bad (Alexandre Daigle, 1st overall by Ottawa in 1993; Tom Fitzgerald, 17th overall by the Islanders in 1986; and Vaclav Nedorost, 14th overall by Colorado in 2000; etc.), there’s a certain allure that comes from being a team’s top pick in the NHL’s annual crapshoot. And it certainly makes them puck-worthy.

A game in Portland earlier this week, featuring the surprising Pirates playing host to the Manchester Monarchs, offered hounds a chance to snag four No. 1 draft picks:

• Ryan Getzlaf, Mighty Ducks of Anaheim, 19th overall in 2003
• Corey Perry, Mighty Ducks of Anaheim, 28th overall in 2003
• Jeff Tambellini, Los Angeles Kings, 27th overall in 2003
• Lauri Tukonen, Los Angeles Kings, 11th overall in 2004

In a night when I added 21 pucks to my collection, taking it up to 845, these top picks signed a total of 11 -- Getzlaf: Mighty Ducks, Mighty Ducks-Portland Pirates and Calgary Hitmen; Perry: Mighty Ducks, MightyDucks-Portland Pirates and London Knights; Tambellini, Los Angeles Kings, Manchester Monarchs fifth anniversary and University of Michigan; and Tukonen: Los Angeles Kings and Manchester Monarchs fifth anniversary.

Pucks shown above (clockwise from top left):

Mighty Ducks of Anaheim: Ryan Getzlaf
Mighty Ducks of Anaheim: Corey Perry
Los Angeles Kings: Lauri Tukonen
Los Angeles Kings: Jeff Tambellini

Rewards

To the people who know me, and I mean really know me, its no surprise that I spend a lot of time getting ready for each hounding adventure. Between roster moves, puck orders and player research, the time spent actually hounding the players often pales in comparison to the legwork.

This preparation, just like practice, pays off. Sometimes, it’s something as simple as using the last of a bunch of obscure pucks. Often, it’s recognizing that a player knows you’re a collector, rather than a dealer.

Every so often, though, it’s an exchange with the player or, in this case, a player-turned coach that provides the reward. Case in point:

Saturday, Nov. 12, Portland, Maine: New Portland Pirates coach Kevin Dineen, who enjoyed a long career in the National Hockey League, signs two pucks – a Portland Pirates official game puck and a Hartford Whalers souvenir puck.

PH: (That’s me, Puckhound): The last time I saw you we were at the Greensboro (N.C.) Coliseum, when the (Carolina) Hurricanes called it home. My wife and I were some of the faithful 3,500 who attended.
K.D.: Yeah, those were pretty tough years. It wasn’t much fun.
PH: Having fun now?
K.D.: Much more. Much more.

Pucks shown above, from left:

Winnipeg Jets: Scott Arniel (Buffalo Sabres, Nov. 18 in Boston)
Hartford Whalers: Kevin Dineen
Drummondville Voltigeurs: Daniel Briere (Buffalo Sabres, Nov. 18 in Boston)

Time to go, Sully

If ownership needed any more excuses to give Bruins coach Mike Sullivan the boot, it came just moments ago. Boston’s 4-1 loss tonight to the Toronto Maple Leafs, coming on the heels of a four-day-off stretch for the Black and Gold to regroup and reload, epitomizes the failure of the head coach and his staff.

One would think the team, fresh from the respite, would jump out early and often against the Buds. Sure, Boston outshot Toronto, 15-5, in the first period, but even then, the Bruins looked flat. And, then there is that little problem called a complete collapse in the third period.

The loss, the B’s fourth in a row, drops the club below .500 on the season. Furthermore, the team is just 1-7-1 within its division. Poor starts like this lead to only one thing – a high draft pick in the 2006 NHL Entry Draft.

Sullivan, to his credit, is saying the so-called right things – the team needs to work harder, play 60 minutes, stop beating itself, blah, blah, blah. The bottom line, though, and I’ve mentioned this before (this is my third and final call for his removal), is this guy just doesn’t know how to win.

In his playing career, the teams of which Sullivan was a member had a combined 385-434-122 record, a .409 winning percentage. During his run, nearly half of those teams never made the playoffs. One team, the 1992-93 San Jose Sharks, went a putrid 11-71-2. In the six seasons in which his teams made the playoffs, all lost in the first series.

Sound familiar? It should. In his first two seasons as a head coach, in Providence and in Boston, winning regular-season records were capped by first-round playoff exits.

If Bruins brass doesn’t pull the trigger (and they likely won’t as Sullivan’s failure is an indictment against their own careers), Sullivan should step back to his role during his on-ice career – being a team player. His resignation, effective immediately, would be seen as taking one for the team.

Crimson ties

Getting a degree is one of the benefits of kids picking college hockey over major juniors. Provided they fulfill their educational obligations, college gives them something to fall back upon should their hockey careers fall short of expectations.

Just ask Noah Welch, a rookie defenseman for the Wilkes-Barre/Scranton Penguins. After being picked in the second round, and 54th overall, by the Pittsburgh Penguins in the 2001 NHL Entry Draft, Welch continued his studies and graduated from Harvard University.

That diploma sounds like a pretty good Plan B, or Harvard Business School model, to me.

Cheap skates, Part II

After being spoiled last year by the caliber of players toiling in the American Hockey League, collectors are facing a challenge this year – putting together enough cards to warrant a trip to hound these second-tier teams.

With a new lockout-induced payroll structure in effect in the league, and more marginal players playing in the bigs, it’s this scarcity of relevant cardboard that has prompted me to create cards targeting the few remaining jewels playing in the AHL.

Sure, one can order team sets or spend hours culling half a dozen cards out of 20,000, but I’d rather apply my design skills to create truly one-of-a-kind items to complement the handful of items I’m bringing on my minor-league trips.

This card (above) of Mighty Ducks prospect Ladislav Smid, created with Microsoft Word, was made in minutes. Player photos and logos can be easily found on the Internet, too. And as long as these images aren’t being used for personal gain, copyright issues don’t come into play.

For another idea, one I use for my son, please visit http://bluegrafs.blogspot.com/2005/09/cheap-skates.html

Scoring an Orr for No. 800

As I inch closer to my Holy Grail of 1,072 pucks, I’m trying to become much more selective as I incorporate quality into the quantity.

Aside from upcoming trips to hound some of my favorite signing teams (the Buffalo Sabres and Ottawa Senators) and further confuse Boston's intelligence-challenged dealers, the premise behind puck-worthyness will soon take center ice.

My latest milestone, autographed puck No. 800, is no different.

Quality certainly took precedence over quantity. I was looking for a world-class name. Someone with instant name recognition, able to conjure images of on-ice glory at the mere mention of this milestone. A player who resonates not just with fans, but with players as well. One of God’s gifts to hockey.

Who did I get for puck No. 800? It was an Orr. Not Bobby Orr, the greatest defenseman to ever play the game. It was B's enforcer Colton "One-Punch" Orr.

Opposite ends of the spectrum? You bet! But, an Orr is an Orr, and both were/are pretty good at their trades.

Another momentary diversion

Though the primary purpose of this blog is hockey autographs, I feel the need to remind the Boston Bruins that games last 60 minutes, not 57.

After believing Joe Thornton's deft tap-in wrapped up the B's 3-1 win over the Flyers last night, I was stunned to watch the Flyers score two goals to take it into overtime. I wasn't surprised, though, when Joni Pitkanen scored the game-winner. The Flyers show desire, something that the Bruins are sorely lacking.

The Bruins, I'm afraid, are sleepwalking through games. And while you can blame the players for slacking off, it's the coach's responsibility to motivate them. Mike Sullivan is failing - miserably.

Simply put, the team lacks a killer instinct. Even in wins, they let up at game's end (This past Saturday against Pittsburgh comes to mind.). Aggressive hockey must be played every second of every minute of every game. Sullivan has not -- and will not -- instill that in this team.

Being a relative newcomer to the Black-and-Gold bandwagon, I may not have the credibility as some other Bruins fans. But I am a hockey fan and have rooted for far-lesser teams (Buffalo Sabres) that the Bruins. Team management must do something soon to shake up -- and wake up -- the team. Other than a blockbuster trade, there's only one option, and this is a repeat call -- get rid of Sullivan.

If the Bruins don't, it's going to be a long season. And I'll have no problem, whatsoever, telling everyone that I told you so.

Cornering "The Rat"

Living here in hockey-rich New England, there’s no shortage of opportunities to hound for autographs. Besides NHL teams in the so-called Hub of the Universe to take on Beantown's Bruins, a handful of AHL teams within an hour’s drive and a top-shelf college league, Hockey East, hockey hounds also can catch Bruins alumni games.

I made my first-ever trip to an alumni game last night, down to Salem, Mass., where such former Bruins players as Ken Hodge Jr., Bob Sweeney and Gary Doak suited up against an "all-star" team of shaky-ankle beer-leaguers.

Not only was it an entertaining night, but I also scored the 799th puck (shown above) of my collection -- former Bruin and Philly Flyer Kenny "The Rat" Linseman. While some of his mates were far from game shape, The Rat looked as though he could’ve suited up for current Bruins. And while he was known for being a pest during his playing days, Linseman was far from it last night.

As a side note, not only does this puck put me next to another milestone in my collection, but it was also the 100th in the past 30 days. Though I’m well-stocked for certain teams in the days ahead (Hershey Bears, another trip for the Sabres, Ottawa Senators and the Manchester Monarchs), I’ll have to plead guilty, or at least attempt, to cherry-picking as I take a more methodical approach to reaching No. 915.

Who will be No. 800? Who knows. Maybe it'll be No. 77. Stay tuned!

Early, not too often

Everything I’ve read or written about snagging Sidney Crosby’s autograph focuses on one thing – getting him early. Not just in his career, mind you, but I’m quickly learning that advice works well within the day.

On the Pittsburgh Penguins second regular-season trip into Boston, in which the team changed hotels from the first stay, it seems The Next One had a change in heart toward accommodating the league’s best hounds.

Once a handful of these hounds (unfortunately, some of the scumbag dealers were among them) finally learned where the team was staying, they were surprised to find that Crosby felt like signing autographs that day. Perhaps it was the small crowd, or maybe even jet lag, but reports indicated that he willingly put blue Sharpies to photos and silver paint pens to pucks before and after the team's practice.

After spending the morning in Wilmington, getting Ray Bourque, the Bruins new on-ice consultant, to sign my wife’s Avalanche jersey, and later learning that Crosby had signed, I had to find out for myself. And though it took some time, I can happily report that a grumpy Crosby did, in fact, sign a Team Canada puck (see above) as he and two teammates headed for a late dinner.

"I’ll do it," he said. "But this is it."

It’s too bad, then, that Mario Lemieux was his normal jovial self, declining polite requests from three hounds willing to have him personalize any item he might sign. That’s not to say that he won’t ever sign. A trend is developing that he will sign a photo, but only if it shows you and Lemieux, and you don’t mind having it personalized.

Given how tough he is, I’d consider it an honor. You can bet, too, that I’ll be packing my digital camera, rather than a 1991-92 Pittsburgh Penguins Stanley Cup Champions puck, next season.

I'm a newshound, too

A couple of newsy items while I sort through the multitude of items signed (16 pucks, a helmet, a goalie mask, a card and one special game-used stick) following Boston Bruins and Florida Panthers practices earlier today.

With his permission (I did the asking), we now have a nickname for the Bruins' tough guy: It's Colton "One-Punch" Orr. (Addendum on 11/6/05: A later visit to Wilmington offered a hand signal for "One-Punch" Orr: Hold up right index finger and then make a fist.)

A certain wicked Bruins fan momentarily turned traitor today when said fan accepted an impromptu assignment to guard the Florida Panthers equipment truck following practice. Despite ideas to "hide" certain equipment worn by Panthers goalie Roberto Luongo, the temptation was resisted. (Addendum II: Though no equipment mysteriously came up missing, perhaps a secret hex was placed upon his gear, leading to Luongo's poor outing.)

Word on the streets and, apparently, in the locker room is that there's very little sympathy for Bruins defenseman Brian Leetch, who's expected to miss a month after injuring his knee Tuesday night against the New York Islanders. I guess that's what happens when you're rude to fans and, ahem, maybe some teammates. (Addendum III: Perhaps Ray Bourque, the Bruins new consultant, can teach the Lone Star Stiff some class.)

Pucks shown above:

Florida Panthers official game puck: Roberto Luongo
Acadie-Bathhurst Titan: Roberto Luongo
Team Canada: Jay Bouwmeester

Do your homework

I don't know why I let some people ruin a good day of hounding, but I can't help being frustrated by some of the apparently clueless people who call themselves collectors.

Last Saturday, following the Portland Pirates' 3-2 win over the Binghamton Senators, a gaggle of "collectors" gathered by the players' door at the Cumberland County Civic Center. After getting 15 pucks signed before the game, I was waiting for Patrick Eaves, the Ottawa Senators' No. 1 draft pick in 2003, to sign a trio of pucks. As usual, the regulars, armed with their 8x10s downloaded (can you say copyright infringement?) and player profiles from the Baby Sens Web site, were there.

I try to avoid these folks, who I'm quite sure are pretty nice people, only because they tend to be a bit bothersome when it gets busy. Though they're apparently willing to invest the time to print out their "collectibles," the thought to commit a player's identity to memory escapes them. In fact, if I had a dollar for every time they muttered a "Who's that?" to a player, I'd be writing this posting from a beach in the Bahamas.

Despite spending a considerable amount of time each week pursuing the next, and hopefully last, position in my journalism career, raking leaves from six towering maples and making sure Colin doesn't get into too much trouble, I still find the time to know who I'm hounding. Granted, not every player can be instantly recognizable, but any hound worth his or her salt should at least know the stars.

One time last year, following a Calder Cup playoff game between the Providence Bruins and Lowell Lock Monsters, two of the Portland "regulars" were camped outside the players' door at the Tsongas Arena. Clutching a couple of cards, they asked every player who left the building if he was Patrice Bergeron. Player and player politely told the pair that they were not, indeed, Patrice Bergeron.

Patrice, who has certainly made an impression with northern New England hockey fans for his on-ice skills and willingness to sign, is pretty easy to identify. He's featured on commercials, has plenty of cards and can be Googled. Yet, when Patrice walked past this dynamic duo, they failed to recognize him.

Now, I was taught to not judge people, not even if you get to know them. And though I know I fall woefully short, at times, in this regard, I say, in my defense, that I also learned, as a Boy Scout, to be prepared.

It's one thing if someone is a casual fan, stumbling upon a player as they depart the arena, to not be able to identify the signer. It's my belief, though, that any hound, collector or dealer should do their homework. Anything less, I'm afraid, opens the door to commentary.