A ShanaBan Playoff Twist

As I watch the Bruins-Capitals game a thought popped into my feeble little mind.

The question was asked, “why don’t NHL players have enough respect to NOT try and hurt each other.”  This motivated by Shea Weber’s WWE style move last night.  His goal, hurt the other guy.  Then I watch a Caps player gutlessly smash David Krejci in the face drawing a 4 minute penalty. 

The punishment?  4 minutes?  5 minutes? A game misconduct? …or worse… a Shanaban!

But really, is that really a deterrent?  Well sure, if you’re Zedeno Chara or Sidney Crosby.  If you are a player of that caliber missing a game in the playoffs could mean early summer vacation.

What if you are a role player?  A replaceable teammate.  You go out, cheap shot the stud on the other team, take your 4 game suspension to know Crosby, Seguin, Ovechkin, or Malkin out for a few games. Who cares right?

Now the twist…What if a playoff suspension carried additional cost.  Not to the individual, but the team. 

Example:  You are Byron Bitz.  A waste of ice time role player in Vancouver who blew up a defenseless opponent. You just got a 2 game ban.  BUT, in addition, Vancouver cannot replace Bitz’s roster spot.  They have to play 2 games with one less player on the bench.

All of a sudden coaches would stop sending thugs on the ice because 2 games of double shifting guys is a recipe for disaster. 

Add onto that the peer pressure of teammates. 

Picture the Canucks locker room today Sedin to Bitz, “It’s ok Bitzy.  You’ll be back for game 4.”

Now with the roster spot twist, “Come on Bitzy.  That was dumb.  Beating these guys was hard enough with all of us.  You really killed us there!”

Which one gets the result the league needs?  Think about it next time a suspension is levied for the cheap hits the NHL is trying to eliminate.

My Divorce With Tiger Woods

Dear Tiger,

I think we need to start seeing other people.  It’s not you. It’s me.   I’ve been trying for a few years now to remember how amazing things used to be.  We used to have so much fun together.  You would light up any course on tour and make the impossible look easy.  I would watch excitedly as every shot had the potential to be a legendary highlight.  It was so much fun, Tiger.

I know things have been tough lately and I never left your side.  You took time off and that was fine.  I missed you, but we got by.  It didn’t matter that you had your “transgressions”.  I never stopped being on Team Tiger.   When you struggled to win, or make cuts for that matter, I knew eventually you’d turn it around.  When you won at Bay Hill a couple weeks ago I knew you were back, and despite your struggles at The Masters I know you are back to form.

But despite your comeback and your future successes (and there will be many), I can’t stand what you have turned me into. Like I said, it’s not you.  

I used to watch with excitement.  Now I watch with anxiety.  My stomach is in knots wanting and hoping every shot to find short grass. I can barely watch the screen as you line up 6 foot putts.  You’ve turned me into someone I don’t like being.  You’ve turned me into someone who is unsure and scared.  

Tiger, I need to move on for me.  I need to stop being blindly hopeful and constantly disappointed. I need to find a way to be a happy golf fan again.

I want you to know that I am not just running away into the bandwagon of the newest, hot guy out there (as tempting as Rory’s wagon may be).  Nor am I flipping to the dark side (I will never join Phil’s Army).  I am leaving you for no one.  I am quitting you for the unknown. I need to do this for me.

I will still watch you and hope for the best.  I want you to win your majors and break every record, but I can’t continue being an anxious mess waiting for you to be the old you again.

…Oh, who am I kidding.  I can’t just give up! I can’t just move on to another golfer!  I am and always will be a fan of the erratic, vulgar, womanizing golfer you are. So you laid an egg at the Masters. Who cares! You’ll win a major this year and we’ll be like new again! And when that day comes I will wear my Red shirt and flaunt my Nike gear and say “HA! I told you he’d be back!”  Oh, won’t it be great! It’ll be like old times!

I am, and always will be, your fan and follower…even if it ends up giving me an ulcer…which it probably will.