Runnin' With the Dogs

>Who knew Runninwiththedogs’ ace reporter and father DA was also a prognosticator?

March 11: “You’ve gotta believe Denver is going to come out smoking. They’re not going to lose this game.”
Denver did indeed “win” the game, although they did not come out even a little heated, and only won because Jon Campion is a tool of the devjl himself.

March 12: “[The Bulldogs] are only going to win by a goal.”
The ‘Dogs won by 3, including an empty net goal.

I hope he predicts we lose in the play-in game, 10-0.

>Runnin With the Dogs is closed for the night, because I am full of rage and I can’t control what I might say.

>It’s “Win or Golf” time again for the UMD Bulldogs, and our situation’s grim. If we wanted to dwell on the negatives, we could discuss:

1. We have one conference win in 2006.
2. We failed to score a goal during last week’s “hockey” games at Mariucci.
3. We couldn’t hit the broadside of the DECC with the puck right now.
4. We’re facing the defending National Champions, and they’re a physical team with a bloodthirsty animal who cheapshots anyone he can.
5. Our record against Denver this year is 0-2, with 3 goals for and 7 goals against.

Out on a ledge yet? No? Well… REMEMBER LAST YEAR’S PLAYOFFS?

I should mention, I’m not responsible for anyone who kills themselves because I reminded them of just how badly we’ve sucked lately. I’m just the messenger.

Clearly, our game plan hasn’t been working lately. So we’ve got to think outside the box and play some razzle-dazzle hockey. Fortunately, I’ve come up with a brilliant plan.

1. Let them underestimate us.
When it comes to WCHA standings, we’re in the basement. The underground parking garage. The ninth circle of hell. I say, play it up. Let them think we’re going to roll over and play dead. Mason Raymond can limp a little. Put Andrew Carroll’s arm in a sling. Grawler can carry a box of tissues and wear a bathrobe and fuzzy bunny slippers. Maybe bring Nick Kemp in on a stretcher, covered in a blanket with nothing showing but a toe tag.

2. Use the thinner atmosphere to our advantage.
With their brains oxygen-starved in the mile-high city, maybe the players won’t think so much about all the pressure on their shoulders.*

3. Dress Isaac in Ziggy’s jersey.
Disguising Ike as Ziggy might make the Pies a little overconfident, and they might start to get cute around the net and make mistakes. Heck, it worked at Mariucci. When we dressed Ziggy up as the empty net, it took the Goofers four tries to score. To avoid detection, Ziggy must wear a Groucho Marx disguise on the bench.

Perfect. Excel Energy Center, here we come!

*As an aside, I have to wonder: is there really any pressure on the ‘Dogs’ shoulders? Last year (aaagh! I brought it up again!), we were in sixth place, and we’d split with North Dakota in our only series. Getting some quality wins in the Final Five might have given us the boost we needed into the NCAAs. This year, we’ve got no expectations left. Our only chance at salvaging this season is to win the Broadmoor trophy, and while statistically possible, we’d sooner thread a camel through the eye of a needle. (Personally, I would consider even making it to the Final Five as salvaging the season, but dare to dream.) The pressure is on Denver. They are expected to win, everyone’s assuming they’ll win. But you know what happens when you assume…

>“Let me leave you with this one thought… you love the Bulldogs*, but have they ever loved you back?”

Who cares if they love me back? Tonight was a great game, we kept it close and could have pulled it out. Raise your glasses to the not-too-distant future!

*it was actually Red Sox in the quotation, from the movie Fever Pitch, but if I quoted it exactly, it wouldn’t make any sense.

>The Walrus and the Carpenter
Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
Conveniently low:
And all the little Bulldogs stood
And waited in a row.

“The time has come,” the Walrus said,
“To talk of many things:
Of shoes — and ships — and sealing-wax —
Of cabbages — and kings —
And why the sea is boiling hot —
And whether pigs have wings.”…

“It seems a shame,” the Walrus said,
“To play them such a trick,
After we’ve brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!”
The Carpenter said nothing but
“The butter’s spread too thick!”

“I weep for you,” the Walrus said.
“I deeply sympathize.”
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size.
Holding his pocket handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.

“O Bulldogs,” said the Carpenter.
“You’ve had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?”
But answer came there none —
And that was scarcely odd, because
They’d eaten every one.’

Lewis Carroll, from Alice Through The Looking Glass

As I was leaving work today, I got a message from my dad, asking me if I wanted to go to the game. OF COURSE I wanted to go to the game. Anytime I get to see my ‘Dogs, I’m there, especially FOR FREE (thanks to Scotty, “The Man in the Box”). Lucky for me, I had a jersey in my trunk. For emergencies, you know.

Getting there was interesting, as I had only a vague idea of only route I know to the John, and the only thing I knew for certain was, I was not going that way. Once I was in Dinkytown, I drove around like a moron until I found a parking garage near the building where my stepbrother is an RA, which was nowhere near Sally’s. Silly me, I thought the weather was not too bad, and left my coat in the car. I had no idea how to get to where I was supposed to be, so I called my dad. I looked like a total goon, talking loudly on my cell phone (because there is no other way to talk on a cell phone), wandering around aimlessly, wearing a UMD jersey. By the time I arrived at the bar, I was nearly frozen solid.

It’s the journey that’s important, people.

And then there was the game. I couldn’t see for most of it, but I didn’t want to see it, anyway. I thought this would be a better game than it was. It makes me sad to think our season is going to end after next weekend. (Okay, we are not mathematically eliminated, we still have an auto-bid, but let’s get real, people. We are not the damn Miracle On Ice.) However, it also comes as a relief. Why are we playing the penultimate game of the regular season as tentatively as the first? Why can’t we make passes? Why haven’t we gotten quicker? Why is the puck in your skates, Matt Greer, while you are looking around for it? Why are we tripping over our teammates? Why can’t we score on that sieve, Briggs? WHY? WHY? WHY?

We left the game before the presentation of the McNaughton Cup. I remarked to my father, “I don’t want to see a former Bulldog hand a trophy to the Gophers.” He agreed. He showed me a place to park for free that isn’t too far away (not that I’ll tell YOU), and then I spent 45 minutes in the parking garage trying to find my car. (It turned out there is more than one spot that is marked Level D Spot B8.)

Bottom Line: We were shut out 7-0, and I STILL DIDN’T LEAVE EARLY. Stupid corporate non-fans. I could have sat in your seats instead of trying to peek through the gaps between people for half the game and trying to see over the bar in the Gold Club for the other half.