On Roy and the Habs

One of Da Nephew's Roy cards.

I should absolutely love Patrick Roy

I certainly owe him a lot of thanks for all the free drinks. On the East Coast, Roy is not a common name, but everyone and anyone - Habs or hockey fan or not - had heard of Patrick Roy.

When I was in university our shared last name meant I spent a lot of party time claiming him as a cousin (we're not related) and promising autographs I never did deliver on in exchange for some free hooch. I'd feign guilt here but honestly it was a damned good scam for a while and like most students I was on a strict budget.

I also vividly recall Roy backstopping the Habs during their championship wins before The Deal That Shall Never Be Mentioned on this blog. He was a terrific goalie and he deserved the props he got. He earned them.

That's about it for my liking of Patrick Roy. You see, I always thought he was a bit of an egotistical prick, an opinion that reading his biography, authored by his father, did nothing to change.

I've lost count of the number of sanctions he's received by the QMJHL, a couple of which were quite recent, back in January and February of 2012. He has a big mouth and he's always been truly happy to use it.

Does anyone else remember that quote about the two Stanley Cup rings in his ears? Yeah, did you know Roy didn't come up with that retort, just stated it?

When it comes to flash and fervour Roy's the guy to go to for sure. But I don't think it's what the Habs need, and I don't see how pre-ordaining him as the next Habs coach will (a) solve anything or (b) attract a quality GM.

Roy is a hothead and a petulant one at that. He just blew a 3 game series lead the Quebec Remparts held over the Halifax Mooseheads and was churlish enough to refuse to shake hands after his team got bounced.

Considering the struggles the Habs have had recently with their image and questions arising surrounding their professionalism - the latest of which is the Gauthier / Cammalleri jersey fiasco - I'm not sure a coach that acts like a sulky teenager is capable of leading a team of professional men who are looking to rebound from a terrible and forgettable season.

That sort of leadership might fly in a locker room full of petulant teenagers but I've had such bosses during my 25+ years in the workforce and I've never respected any of them nor considered them as guides or mentors. Mostly I tolerated them until one of us left.

Coaches require vision and a flexible, adaptable game plan to go along with their passion. Roy, by comparison, always comes across like a Kardashian to me. He likes the media and his sound bites and the attention just as much. He always did. And it has always been one of his primary focuses too, as opposed to just the hockey.

Of course it will distract nicely should the Habs have another dismal season next year, but as a fan I'd really rather pass. It's all bad enough without adding Roy as a ringmaster to the circus that is the Habs media world.

I also don't see how pre-ordaining Roy as Head Coach will attract a GM the Habs need.

The Habs need a GM who sees what needs to be done and will bite the bullet to do it. He must be able to develop a strategy and then have the balls to execute it. And I don't mean Pierre Gauthier's style of strategy either, wherein the primary focus is not to get his ass fired so he doesn't do much of anything unless he thinks there's a leak in the roof and buys an expensive Tomas Kaberle brand patch.

If there is a GM out there who feels confident he has a plan to fix the Canadiens and is willing to seize the reigns and have a go, how on earth does hamstringing him with a volitaile coach help the future of the franchise? The GM must pick the coach, not have one forced upon him. They must be on the same page if this team is to become a legitimate contender again.

Roy says the Habs haven't contacted him and that he wants to remain with the Remparts. I'm glad to hear it.

He was a great goaltender in his day, and worthy of the praise and legacy the NHL and the Canadiens have heaped upon him. But to choose him as a Head Coach for the team when he has no NHL coaching experience, or even AHL coaching experience, just because he has a great history with the team and is bilingual, is just not good enough for me.

Wasn't part of the reason Jacques Martin was hired in the first place because of all the complaints about rookie coaches for the Habs? Wasn't this a huge argument against Guy Carbonneau? Yet Roy's legacy is greater so he gets a pass on that level I guess, but not with me.

I can appreciate the arguments about Roy's passion, especially after watching the controlled quiet that Martin offered behind the bench, which was oftentimes easily mistaken for indifference. What I find hard to take is Roy's lunacy and lack of professionalism.

Sending your son out of his crease to start a fight? Yeah, let's see Roy try that with Carey Price and frankly I don't trust him not to try it either.

Despite the playoffs going on, I'm much more interested in all the "what ifs" surrounding the Canadiens at the moment. It will be interesting to see who the Habs choose as GM. It will be even more interesting to see if this new GM names his own head coach and if he does who it will be.

And if Patrick Roy does become the next Head Coach for the Habs I'm going to run a pool on how long he lasts before he gets shoved out the door.

With a Rebel Yell

Home at last!

I've got 3 things I'm going to blog about today, so feel free to skip to the one(s) that interest you. The first will be hockey, the second will be the Titanic, and the third will be all about moi as usual.

Neither of the first two will likely be popular opinions, because hey, that's just me.

Thrilling I know. Hold onto your hat.


Hockey

I don't care.

I know it's the Stanley Cup playoffs and there's some good hockey going on, which I have at times appreciated even watching without the emotional investment, but the truth is that without the emotional investment I just don't really care who gets the Cup this year.

I'd prefer it wasn't the Bruins but that's about it.

Passing thoughts: Shea Weber deserved more than a lousy fine, and I keep waiting for someone to take a shot at Marchand. Not sure how Chris Lee and Tim Peel got to referee playoff games but they've obviously got some heavy hitter friends which is good for them but overall bad for the sport. I can't think of any two NHL refs I've disrespected more. I still have zero faith in Roberto Luongo's mental or testicular fortitude during the post-season, nor the Canucks defense. Ditto that for Fleury and the Pens.

So far I've been pulling for the Pens (my Mom loves Sid), Detroit (I like Babcock), Vancouver and the Sens (Canadian teams), and the Caps because the alternative in that series is unacceptable. It's a good thing I didn't lay down any big money or I'd be trolling Hollis Street just to pay out to my bookie.

I have more interest in who the Habs will pick for their next GM (anybody but Pierre McGuire) and Head Coach (anybody but Patrick Roy).

Still, I do watch and it really is more to do with the lack of alternative programming. I like Awake and Touch and Game of Thrones but other than that I have to wonder what the hell I pay out so much money for each month to my service provider. TV sucks and movies are worse so I'm in sort of an entertainment hell right now.

Luckily there are still books worth reading and music worth listening to.

During the Bruins / Caps 2nd game my Dad made the unfortunate mistake of listening to PJ Stock. "Jeez, that guy is an idiot, isn't he?"

Meanwhile my Mom took to picking on Alex Ovechkin. "He looks like one of those ugly old time Bond villains with the big teeth."

I really couldn't refute either, nor did I even try.



The Titanic 100th Anniversary

All I can say about this is I'm glad I won't be around for the 200th anniversary and I'm not in the mood to forgive James Cameron for that dumbass movie anytime soon.

Before his stupid, maudlin, brutally long movie no one on the planet gave a shit about this ship. We'd forgotten all about it. Hell, they'd been dead and gone for decades and it's not like I'd ever known any of them.

Before Cameron's movie no one visited the Titanic graves, and no one at the universities were interested in or budgeted for modern forensic testing. One stupid and truly annoying Celine Dion song later and now there are bus tours, boat tours and identifications.

Every single news cast for weeks has gone on and on about them like I should be sad and saying regular prayers or something. There is nothing else on the local broadcasts or in the newspapers and even Sid the Kid and Marchand the Moron in the playoffs is not enough to rate their usual airtime.

Money is where it's at, baby, and not even two homeboys in the playoffs can compete with the vast amounts of green flowing into the city thanks to some rusting hulk rotting offshore.

I truly don't get why Australians and Germans and people who had no family or emotional attachment are flying to Halifax to spend good money because of an inferior movie. I suppose it's like rubber necking a car wreck or something, but it still strikes me as foolish.

Meanwhile, the rest of the world rambles on but the local news continues to ignore it with their usual one-track zealotry. There's never been a trend they won't enthusiastically piggyback after all.

I'm never forgiving the music world for that Celine Dion song. Or Celine Dion either.


All About Moi

On Wednesday I went for the third and final stage of my interview and on Thursday afternoon shortly before work I got the call that I had won the job. I will be a Letter Carrier Supervisor with Canada Post, in Corner Brook, Newfoundland.

So I'm going home, having been born and largely bred in Port-aux-Basques, roughly two hours away from Corner Brook. My mother will retire to our hometown and enjoy a life of leisure.

After 20 years in Halifax I really do want to go home and never thought I'd have the opportunity. It's funny how things turn so quickly.

I called my grandmother from work on Thursday and told her the good news. "You'll have to put up with me now," I warned her.

"Well if I get tired of you I'll just drive you out of it," was her reply. But she's delighted to have us come home.

Much harder will be spending so much less time with Da Nephew. I'm used to having him every weekend and he grows so damned fast. Still, it's not like I'm moving to Panama so I suppose we'll work it out somehow.

Rental accommodation in Corner Brook is surprisingly hard to come by, and not that much cheaper than Halifax really. I thought that most of the people moving back home were gathered largely on the Avalon and the booming oil industry springing up there, but it seems the domino effect is already in place.

I've always had a bit of luck with apartment hunting, though, and I hope it continues with this move. Speaking of moving, I do so hate it but this should be the last time ever if I get my way.

I don't yet know when I will be moving. The position was originally listed as anticipatory staffing, but during my phone offer the Regional GM indicated they'd like to have me there as soon as possible. Apparently they will give me a minimum of four weeks, though I hope to push that back a wee bit.

I also hope that there's at least one other Habs fan in the Corner Brook office. Otherwise I'm just going to have to convert them all.

Hope Springs Eternal for This Habs Fan

I'm not sure what's worse: that this is the last game of season for the 2011-12 Montreal Canadiens or that I'm largely relieved that this is their last game of the season.

You know things are bad when...

Tonight will see them log 440 hours of missed man hours. Every year I think their injury situation can't possibly get any worse and then it inevitably does.

I expect them to clear the 500 mark of missed game hours next season, just because that's the way this team has been trending for the past few years.

I've felt like a yo-yo far too many times this season.

I wanted Jacques Martin and his stupid system gone and poof they were. And the Habs fell apart. Was it entirely due to losing Martin? Doubtful, but I'm sure it didn't help.

Realizing as far back as November that the Habs were unlikely to contend or even make the post-season at least I enjoyed watching the Habs attempt a two man forecheck more than once a month. I've never been a fan of "sit back and hope the other team doesn't score" style of hockey.

And then Pierre Gauthier decided to sacrifice Randy Cunneyworth on the altar of self-preservation, which did not sit well at all with me, and I wonder how the players enjoyed that too. Did it help them feel confident in their GM and the future of their team?

I enjoyed watching the kids play, particularly Louis Leblanc, whom I expect will start the season with the Habs next year despite his lack of seasoning in the AHL. Now Gabriel Dumont is up and Robert Mayer and they're fun to watch because I don't get to see many AHL games, but the fact is that they'd not be available to watch playing for Montreal yet if the Habs were in the playoffs.

I watched major changes taking place, including the trade of underachieving sniper Michael Cammalleri, whom I will have to say I liked when he was effective but had little use for otherwise, particularly off the ice. The guy has always struck me as possessing too much false modesty and a giant ego, but whether or not his locker room disruptions were truth or rumour how he was dealt was badly done.

I watched this team make more than a few bad PR mistakes under Gauthier's last ditch efforts to save his own ass, and while I saw the logic behind some of them and even agreed with a few I've never witnessed this team in such a sorry state before.

I hope to hell I never see it again.

I hope to God next year I don't have to root for another team to win just so the Habs can salvage a high draft pick for what is a truly miserable season.

I don't like this season of paradoxes, of such extreme highs and lows. I like cheering for this team, and even on nights when the logic is clear that I should root for them to lose, I still squeal with delight when they score a goal.

Then it's "Oh. Damn."

I do so hate that like nothing hockey-related I've ever hated before with the possible exception of Gary Bettman.

I hope to never have to cuss after watching my team win a game ever again.

The dog and pony show that has been this season is almost over and I'm glad. The paradoxes of liking Scott Gomez everywhere but on the ice may return again next, or not, depending on who the next GM will be.

I just hope the guy is a sound strategist with a solid game plan he is willing to take some serious flak for as he attempts to execute it before the fans and media execute him. I hope the new coach is not married to an inflexible, outdated system and has more than two days of grace with the new GM who hires him.

They have a lot of work to do before the puck drops next fall. Players to sign, players to drop, and an unusally high draft pick that they have no choice but to get right.

I hope it's an interesting summer for the Canadiens; just not interesting in the way that this past season has been.

As for the playoffs... I just hope to hell the Bruins don't win.

And I hope, most fervently, that next season I'm writing a blog not about a miserable season, but about how the Habs are back where they belong - in contention for the Stanley Cup.

The Annoy-a-tron

Small but deadly!

This is an Annoy-a-tron. I got it online at ThinkGeek.com from a tweep who suggested that I could exact some sweet revenge on those who Punk'd me.

The Annoy-a-tron emits a high pitched beep (I chose the one that lasts the longest but there are 3 types) at random intervals. It has a magnet and is so small it fits in the palm of your hand, so it's pretty easy to hide so your victim of choice can't tell where the squeal is coming from.

Naturally as soon as I got the things - I ordered two - I dropped one and broke it. Still, one will suffice and my first victim was my brother.

He dropped by Tuesday after he finished work and parked his butt on my Habs sofa to play L.A.Noire on the PS 3. I had hid the Annoy-a-tron behind the sofa, up high on the curtain rod directly over his head. I switched it on and waited.

The first time he heard it he did a casual "What was that?". Mom was on the computer and didn't hear it because she was focused on whatever it was she was up to (probably Slotomania). Since I had to drive her to work we left Bro to suffer alone.

"He'd better not find it and break it," I said to Mom in the hallway. "I only have the one left. Didn't you hear it?"

She claimed not to have heard anything, but by the time I drove her to work and returned to the apartment with coffee it was clear that Bro had heard every single beep.

He had left the sofa and was parked at the desk to play his game. I gave him the coffee, he thanked me, and then proceeded to wig out.

"There is something going on in this room," he insisted. "There's a beeping going on." He reluctantly left the desk and returned to the sofa just as the Annoy-a-tron did its thing. In the tiny room it was loud and I couldn't feign deafness. "SEE? What the fuck IS that thing?"

"Maybe it's the construction crew," I suggested. "They were up climbing around in the ceiling yesterday. Maybe they left some equipment on."

My brother is a former carpenter so that one didn't fly. "You'd have to be using the power tool, pressing the trigger."

The Annoy-a-tron decided that 5 minute intervals were too much and went off again.

"What the FUCK?" yelled Bro, and started tearing cushions off the couch while I dissolved in laughter.

"You're going to pull apart my sofa now?"

"There's something going on in this room!" he said. He put the cushions back and sat down again. This apparently offended the Annoy-a-tron, which was not content to let him rest and play his game after a hard day's work.

My brother knelt on the sofa and turned around to face the back and peer out the window. "It's the Man," he said. "The Man is out to get me or something."

I was outright guffawing by now. "You need to lay off the caffeine. You sound like a paranoid lunatic."

"Something is OUT TO GET ME!" he said.

That was when Mom called from work. "Did you tell him about the Annoy-a-tron yet?"

Me: "No."

Mom: "When are you going to?"

Me: "I don't know."

The Annoy-a-tron went off again. Bro threw up his hands. "Ask her about the beeping."

Me: "He wants me to ask you about the beeping."

Mom: Laughter. Then a click as she hung up.

When the Annoy-a-tron went off again Bro turned around to do a more thorough search of the window frame. He also glanced down at the gap between the sofa and the wall where I had dropped and broken the first one. He even looked up at the curtain rod but failed to spot the device somehow.

When I got up to open the curtains (he had shut them to play  his video game because of the angle of the sunlight on the TV), he immediately laid claim to the desk chair again and sent me to suffer on the Sofa of Danger.

"Are you going to find that beeping?" he wanted to know.

"No, I'm going to open the curtains so I can see." I recovered the Annoy-a-tron while opening the curtains, but by then Bro couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm going home," he said.

"Wait. I have something to show you," I told him. Frankly by then my stomach had hurt from laughing anyway, plus I knew he'd try to get Zee with the damned thing and thereby pass on the misery.

When I showed him the Annoy-a-tron he took it well and didn't beat me or anything. But oh... his poor wife and coworkers.

"You have to give it back when you're done," I told him. "I still have plans for this thing."

I bet he does too.

Taboga Island & The Ruins

If only we got these prices in Canada!

We spent a day in the open air market shopping for souvenirs. It runs a few city blocks and is pedestrian traffic only, and you can buy sunglasses for $4 and clothing for $5. I bought sandals for $3 and other than the liquour I had to pick up at the duty free I got most of my shopping done here.

Next we took off for Taboga Island to spend a day of swimming in tropical waters while boozing on the beach. Except we did neither.

We took off from the Amodor Causeway for a 3 hour tour that ended in an unfortunate storm that left us stranded for several years on an uncharted island. No wait. That was Gilligan.

This is only a one hour tour.

We did take off from the Amodor Causeway on a little ferry that grunted its way through the open ocean until we reached Taboga Island. The locals take great pride in their little tourist haven, especially its cleanliness.

Taboga as seen from the ferry.

 We parked our ass on the beach and I headed down to the water, because even though it was mid-morning it was still hot.

"Holy shit!" I said, dipping a toe. "I've swum in water warmers in the North Atlantic!"

"Don't be silly," said my Dad, who wandered off for a bit before testing the waters himself.

I don't know who this woman is but it's a nice beach anyway.

He admitted later the water was cold but couldn't figure out why, since it was usually much warmer. The cloud covered rolled in and I curled up under a hut with a book, having decided against any ice cold bath in the Pacific.

After a while the incessant bird calls got on my nerves and I strolled across the beach to see a shit load of pelicans feasting on a school of sardines. I know a shit load is not the usual term for a large gathering of birds, but flock doesn't seem so appropriate in this case.

Not just a mere flock, but a shit-load of pelicans.

Close up.

I watched them dive bomb into the ocean and come up with a mouthful of fish, which they'd swallow by snapping their huge beaks together so hard it sounded like they'd break. I have never seen wild pelicans before and this simply fascinated me.

I wandered around the little town, taking a lot of pics of the flora and fauna. Taboga is also known as the Island of Flowers and it's easy to see why. Colourful plants bloom wild everywhere, tended carefully by the town's caretakers.

We hopped the ferry home and I called it a successful day because I hadn't suffered another bout of heat stroke.

The next day we took off to see Old Panama City, where the Spanish had first constructed a settlement which was subsequently destroyed by pirates.

There's not a whole lot to see here other than ruined walls, but if you have a bit of an imagination (as I do), you can get a feel for the history of the place which I enjoyed.

At 22 meters, the tower had a 360 degree view of the skyline, and while the topography of the land has changed (the water is further away), you can see still pretty much everything from the church tower. There were no cannon in place, but they damned well knew plenty of time in advance when the pirates were going to attack, which was apparently quite often.

The church itself used to plead poor but the truth is that the clergy were raiding lots of gold from the locals. The Bishop's House shown here was not constructed for the clergy to stay in, but as a rental income for the church for repairs and to pay its choir. The Bishops would move in and stay there free of charge, causing quite a problem for the church, until a wealthy neighbour bought the property and turned it into a rental unit after all.

There was an 8 meter wide street initially and the closer people lived to the church and the town square the more wealthy they were. Black slave trade was not uncommon either, and the merchants would live a few streets beyond the wealthy that lived near the square.

The church also constructed a huge convent at one point, which is roughly the size of the Canada Post plant in Halifax by modern standards, meaning about the size of a city block. Even today, wandering around inside the ruined walls one can appreciate how huge the building must have been, which would have been no small feat to construct in 1571.

Panama is trying to rebuild the entire site, much like the city of Halifax has done with the Citadel. As they are still literally digging up bones in new excavation areas (including a prehistoric camel without any humps), I expect this will take at least another couple of decades.

Meanwhile they are using modern brick to shore up the interior of crumbling walls and replacing the original stones over top of it. It is a spectacularly massive undertaking, trying to reconstruct a town that has been gone and forgotten for a couple of centuries.

I hope they get it done before I die so I can go back and see it.

Speaking of going back, it was finally time to return to Canada and my usual cool northern weather. We survived another one of Oscar's mad car chases into the city and despite all my fears of fiery plane crash death, I arrived safely home in Halifax.

I did have to go to the ER yesterday because I had so many insect bites that my feet and ankles swelled up like balloons, which freaked me out. Apparently I'm suffering an allergic reaction due to the sheer number of bites I've gotten (well over 50) and my body is not used to the Panamanian mosquitos, only ordinary Canadian ones.

I really don't like either.

All of my photos are finally uploaded in the album, so this will be the last vacation blog I bore you with.