Dennis Kane’s Excellent Montreal Canadiens Blog

Good 2-1 shootout win tonight (Tuesday) against the Detroit Red Wings. However, pre-season is pre-season so I’m not going to go into great detail.

Highlights included Carey Price swatting the puck behind him to save a goal, and 19 year old Max Pacioretty notching the lone Habs goal, plus another in the shootout. He played really well and if this continues, he’ll be tough to send down.

TSN announcers Gord Miller and Pierre McGuire were hard to understand at times because they mumbled as they told their little ditties. They almost make me miss Bob Cole.

Sergei Kostitsyn played, but older brother Andrei didn’t.

Robert Lang didn’t look overly impressive, but I’m a patient man.

I wonder if the hot dogs are as good at the Bell Centre as they were at the Forum.

Detroit didn’t play Pavel Datsyuk and Henrik Zetterberg. The Wings were probably concerned that I may have put the injury hex on them so they took no chances.

Maybe it’s nothing to worry about. Maybe it’s only just fluke. But I’m scaring myself and I feel I need to be careful.

It’s all about the laws of attraction, powerful magnetic forces, and controlling thoughts. That’s why I need to be careful. I don’t want to disrupt the perfect harmony which is, ahem, the NHL.

A few posts ago, I wrote, sort of tongue-in-cheek, that I hoped Nick Lidstrom of the Wings would substain injuries this year as he and a few others on that team make them a powerful problem in the Canadiens quest to win the big prize. I really didn’t mean a bad injury, maybe just a little muscle pull or broken finger. That’s not so bad, is it?

The very next day, Lidstrom took a puck in the face and is now out with a broken nose.

And then some kind of opposite magnetic force came into play when I mentioned in the same story that Montreal needs to stay healthy, and right away, Koivu, Lang, Tanguay, Latendresse, Higgins, Hamrlik, Laraque, Kovalev, and Brisebois all went down with various groin, foot, and hip problems.

And so far, only Kovalev has returned. These injuries are why I need to learn to control this.

So you see why I’m scaring myself and am wondering about powers of the mind that I may have somehow obtained recently. I’ve never had them before, so why now?

I’ve never felt ill-will to anyone. Maybe just to Sean Avery and Jarkko Ruutu, but that’s it. And all I ever said about them is that I wish someone would wipe those smiles off their faces permanently.

So if you see on the sports news that Sean Avery was run into the glass and had his face wiped off completely, or that Ruutu decides no one likes him, especially by his coach, so he has no reason to smile and actually doesn’t anymore, then you’ll know my powers are in effect.

And if I channel these powers properly, I just may be able to make Bob Cole get through a game without forgetting names, both of players and himself.

is it possible my powers could move a team from a lousy US market back to Canada?

And maybe, just maybe, I can somehow use these new-found powers to change the minds of the Montreal brass to re-think their decision and let me be a flag guy at a game.

Or even better, stickboy.

The Oshawa Generals have finally decided to retire Bobby Orr’s sweater in a ceremony to be held on November 27.

That makes the Oshawa Generals only about 40 years too late.

When none-Oshawa residents around the world think of Oshawa, they think of maybe two things -General Motors and Bobby Orr. (I don’t know what else they would think of). He WAS Oshawa, even though he was a skinny little kid from Parry Sound living away from home.

When he was 16 years old, everyone in hockey knew he was going to be the best. And he was.

But only now, 40 years later, will his sweater be retired.

Heck, three long-time Powell River Regals, the local senior team, have their sweaters hanging from the Powell River Rec Centre. They were good, but they weren’t Bobby Orr. It only took Powell River a few years to get these done.

(Come to think of it, after those fine years as a smallish yet shifty right winger for Byers Bulldozers bantam and midget teams in Orillia, maybe my sweater…..?)

The Generals raised Eric Lindros’  last March. Mr. Lindros, although a forward, was no Bobby Orr. Although his mother and father may have thought so. And maybe him. 

I noticed on CBC online sports news, a long-time Generals fan told people to quit critizing the Generals for only doing this now because they’ve been trying for ten years, but Orr was never available.

But lady, what about the other 30 years?

And I’m repeating what I’ve said many times before. Bobby Orr would’ve looked great in a Montreal Canadiens sweater.

But I guess Sam Pollock was too busy telling me I couldn’t be a stickboy to get around to getting in a car and driving to Gananoque to scout young Orr before Boston got to him.

 On this day, September 28th, exactly 36 years ago, Team Canada and Team Russia played their eighth and final game of the historic 1972 Summit Series. Paul Henderson pulled it out with 34 seconds to play on kind of a broken play, and the Canadian players, coaches, and most of the entire country of Canada breathed a huge sigh of relief.

This is a ticket stub from this game. I wasn’t in Moscow, but I watched every game, glued to the TV, in Sudbury, Ont. where I was working as a bartender.

A year or two ago, I had a chance to buy this ticket, along with the fan’s travel itinerary, Moscow bus tickets, and various other souvenirs from this guy’s trip to Moscow. I have no idea why he wanted to sell it. It was done through a collectables organization, so maybe he’d passed away and the family just wanted to get rid of everything.  I paid $200 for the lot, and the ticket now sits in a handsome frame on my wall.

This series changed hockey.  We saw the way the Russians trained in 1972, the way they began and finished plays, and the way they could skate. And we knew that Canada was very lucky to win this series.

Almost everyone benefitted from this series - the NHL, fans everywhere, and hockey in general, even today. Everyone, that is, except many of the Russian players. In the eighth game, the Russians players not in the lineup were not even allowed to go to the game unless they could buy a ticket somehow. Some ended up standing outside Luczniki Arena while the game went on inside.

And most tragically, many of these innovative and beautiful skaters ended up destitute or dead. They got absolutely nothing from this series except a free trip to Canada.

Vladimir Vikulov, one of Russia’s most skilled forwards, who played in six of the eight games, became a serious alcoholic and died a mysterious death.

Evgeny Mishakov ended up broke, living in pain with arthritis in a small apartment, collecting a few bucks a month from the government.

It’s rumoured that Valeri Vasiliev joined the Russian mafia to make ends meet.

Team manager Valentine Sytch somehow made many enemies in the years after, and was eventually gunned down by the Russian mafia.

And even the successful players from the Russian squad didn’t come out smelling like roses. Alex Maltsev had his apartment broken into in Moscow and all his gold medals, trophies, and various mementoes from 1972 were stolen.

Valeri Kharlamov and his wife died in a car accident in 1981 outside of Moscow.

And others died prematurely as well, such as coach Vsevolod Bobrov , Vyacheslav Solodukhin, and others. Alexander ‘Rags’ Ragulin ballooned to well over 300 pounds before he passed away four years ago.

But of course, many have done well and made lots of money. Vladislav Tretiak, Boris Mikhailov, and Alexander Yakushev all became outstanding Russian citizens, both at and away from the rink. 

Vyacheslav Anisin’s daughter became a gold medal figure skater.

But it’s the ones who found vodka and poverty, the ones the hockey world forgot, who should be helped by the NHL. These people are owed. They helped make the game what it is today.

To the NHL owners and Players Association, throw a bunch of money their way. They need it.

And it’s never too late.

The Canadiens played the Ottawa Senators last night and will play them again tonight and I noticed that nowhere in the Ottawa lineup did I see Frank Mahovlich.

What’s that? Frank Mahovlich is a senator in Ottawa, not an Ottawa Senator?  Ohhhhhh.

Never mind.

But speaking of Frank Mahovlich…..

In the late 1990’s, I owned a sports bar in Powell River called Kane’s Sports Bistro. It was a good little place and I was able to have my stuff all over the walls. Too much work, though. Way too much work. We sold it and the new owners kept the name.

During this time, the NHL Oldtimers came to town to play one of their many charity games and dazzle us with their playmaking, the skill that never seems to leave retired players.

On the day of the game, in the early afternoon, my partner and I were the only ones in the place when Red Storey and Frank Mahovlich walked in. They strolled around, looked at all the stuff on the walls, and then sat down.

Naturally we were very polite, offered them a nice spaghetti dinner (on the house), and started asking questions about hockey which they both seemed more than happy to chat about. We talked about the 1972 Canada-Russia series, modern-day hockey, and Red told me how hard it was to handle the Rocket sometimes when he (Red) was refereeing.

And of course, we had a big talk about the Habs.

From that conversation, the thing that most stands out is how Mahovlich went on about what a class outfit the Canadiens are. He said it was by far the best team in the league to play for. He said he didn’t get along with Punch Imlach in Toronto and wasn’t happy there, and when he was playing in Detroit and heard the news that he was traded to Montreal, he knew it was perfect for him.

He said the Canadiens treated the players first-class, and he considered himself an ex-Hab, not a Leaf or Red Wing.

That night at the game, Red Storey carried a microphone with him as he refereed, and told the sold-out crowd of about 2000 that everyone should go to Kane’s because the spaghetti was so good.  

They say Sam Pollock had an eye for talent. Well, he didn’t in 1964, at least when it came to stickboys. I would’ve been good. Maybe the best they ever had. But he wouldn’t give me a shot. Sam Pollock ruined my life.

This is bad. I was counting on this. It was my big chance to become a Montreal Canadien. I feel like drowning myself in a vat of beer. And if you think this rejection is bad, wait until you see tomorrow’s.

Pittsburgh doesn’t worry me. Either does Boston, or Buffalo, or Tampa Bay, or the Rangers. Calgary doesn’t worry me, or Dallas, Anaheim, Vancouver, and Colorado.

In fact, no team worries me about getting in the way of Montreal’s big season. Except Detroit. They worry me. Not a lot, mind you. Montreal will take out any team. This is the year.

But Detroit is a concern.

It isn’t even so much that the Wings landed Marion Hossa. And I’m not at all concerned about Kris Draper and Tomas Holmstrom or most of this team for that matter, including Johan Franzen, who is probably just a one-hit wonder like Iron Butterfly was with In-A-Gadda-Da-Vita.

 It’s three other guys in the Motor City I’m not crazy about.

I’m hoping Nick Lidstrom pulls a hamstring. Maybe a couple of times. And maybe Pavel Datsyuk and Henrik Zetterberg could break a finger or two. Nothing serious, just a finger. Even a pinky finger. They can still make whoopee with their wives. They just can’t shoot the puck.

But regardless.

This is the Year of the Habs. And all that needs to happen is this:

Carey Price, with a year under his belt, can’t be tired at the end of the regular season, and his confidence can’t take a nap at any stage in the year.

The defence, led by Mike Komisarek and Andrei Markov, has to play mean and ugly and dangerous. And this also means Ryan O’Byrne. He in particular has to play with an edge that scares the bejeesus out of opposing players. 

Up front, Saku Koivu needs to have one of his best years ever. Alex Kovalev has to take his magic into the playoffs. And Tomas Plekanec needs to become a household name throughout the league.

Alex Tanguay has to play like he’s been a Hab for years.

It’s time for Chris Higgins to become a real star this year. A big star. A huge star.

The Kostitsyn boys have to continue to blossom, as they’re expected to do.

Robert Lang has to make us all forget what Mats Sundin might have done in Montreal and be the final piece of the puzzle that’s been missing.

Guillaume Latendresse has to finally become a player. It’s time. We’ve been waiting patiently. 

Tom Kostopoulos, Steve Begin, Josh Gorges, Francis Bouillon and the rest just need to keep doing what they did last year because they were great.

Georges Laraque has to become the new John Ferguson.

The team needs to have a very fine power play again, like last year. And they have to score a lot of goals, like last year.

And they have to be stingy with goals against.

Youppi has to relive past glory and become the mascot he was with the Expos.

The Ole song must only be sung when the team’s about to win, not when it’s close.

And everyone, please stay healthy. (I’ve noticed that Koivu and Laraque are already nursing minor injuries.)

And that’s it. It’s simple!

Pre-season update:

The boys lose big to Boston 8-3, but take out Buffalo in Roberval, 3-2.

And with those cameras so low at the Roberval arena, it felt like we were there, in about the fourth row. It reminded me of the outdoor game in Edmonton a few years back

(more…)

When I was seven or eight years old, my father and mother bought me a book for Christmas called “Let’s Play Hockey” by Lynn Patrick. Normally this wouldn’t be news. Normally it would’ve been just another hockey book.

But my father got the bright idea to send it to the Montreal Canadiens in Montreal, asking if any of the players would sign it so he could give me something special at Christmas.

The book came back signed by the entire 1958-59 team, and I suppose when I opened it, my eyes must’ve bugged out.

They were all there - Toe Blake, Maurice and Henri Richard, Jean Beliveau, Dickie Moore, Bernie Geoffrion, Jacques Plante, Ralph Backstrom, Bert Olmstead, Marcel Bonin, Tom Johnson, Phil Goyette, Claude Provost, Andre Pronovost, Ian Cushenan, Bob Turner, Jean Guy Talbot, Dollard St. Laurent, Ab McDonald, and Don Marshall.

But darn it, Doug Harvey wasn’t. He must’ve been injured or something when the book was passed around.

But that didn’t stop my father. Later that year he took me to Toronto to see the Habs play the Leafs, and he brought the book with us. And sometime before game time, he took the book down to the corridor outside Montreal’s dressing room, and believe it or not, saw Toe Blake standing there, went up to him and asked him if he would take the book into the room and get Harvey’s autograph for him.

Blake did just that, and that’s Harvey’s signature down at the bottom corner of the opposite page of the other players. Imagine.

Those brown marks are from scotch tape. For awhile, after I got it, I taped a plastic sheet over top to protect them. Because even then I realized the magnitude of this book.