The framed picture of downtown Buffalo under evening snow clouds shook, then rattled, then gently settled back onto its pins, leaving no trace of its sudden, personal earthquake. Nothing fell from a shelf, which still surprises me three nights later. Not even my dog was startled enough to trot downstairs, although I think that's because of the noisy air conditioner in our bedroom where he'd dozed off Friday night.
By the time the commercials had ended before overtime of Game 6, it was just me and my TV. The dog, the wife, the kids and all the people I sit near at Sabres games were asleep.
The emotional side of me was prepared for defeat, in this case a Rangers goal, because that's what always happens. I mean not really, that's just how it seems. Last year I built my playoff pool team around the Lightning and while I got a few weeks of fun out of it, ultimately they fell one game short of what I needed and a loss is a loss. I've probably won a couple before but I don't know. For some reason the losing is much, much more memorable.
I need to skip ahead so that you don't think you're reading some clumsy Dashiell Hammett attempt. Before the playoffs, I picked New Jersey to win the East and loaded my pool team with Devils. And I've been (loudly) picking the Rangers to come up short all season long. And that's it. When Adam Henrique ended it I literally jumped off my couch so high that my head bumped the ceiling. Undaunted, I jumped at least five more times, moving toward the television, muting my repeated screams of "YES!" so as not to wake the uninterested.
I'm happy to have been right, but I'm somewhat ashamed of my attachment to it all.
It was before the handshake line that I started pondering my reaction to a game between two teams I've really never cared about. Holy cow that's weird, I thought. My friends probably would get it, but if my listeners ever knew that I cheered like that for another team, what would they think? I can't remember too many times I reacted to a Sabres win that way. It's probably less than five.
But it's true. And every time the last three days that I've thought about the playoffs -- which I've been doing numerous times a day every day since Game 1 of Round 1, all the while hoping the Devils would at least make the finals -- I felt relief. I had no game coming up to worry about. These were strong feelings. You know, for sports.
So what's it all about?
When we root for the teams we root for, what is it that we're backing? It can be anything, but the most interesting comparison is between your personal stake (like mine with New Jersey) and your hometown team. Rooting for the Sabres is rooting for the people of Buffalo. It's me rooting for you and, like it or not, vice versa.
I've got nothing against that. I want people here to feel good, and I want the community to share in exultation, and I want whatever minimal economic bump there is when a team wins, and so on and so forth. I just want to know what's really at the core of it. Do we really all like each other this much?
I think much of how we all root for the local teams is that like anything it gives us an easy and harmless card to play in conversation. Talking about the Bills or Sabres is like talking about the weather. It's assumed that both you and they are on the same side. Like how we all presume that when we talk about how nice the sunshine is to a stranger that he or she doesn't want it to be raining. As humans, we want affirmation.
I'd always rather reason it out. The upcoming Olympics will again be a challenge for me. Do you root for Americans you don't know anything about against a nice-guy, hard-luck foreigner that NBC just profiled? I don't. Should I?
All this has nothing to do with riding a winner. It's against my DNA to pick favorites so I often lose. And when I do, it hurts. Again, the emotions are pretty much the same.
I think the detachment half of the equation is natural. As we age we don't harbor the same sugarplum fantasies about our athletes, and our sports. When I was 9 I probably cried when the Bills lost a playoff game to San Diego but part of the reason is that I assumed Joe Ferguson was crying too.
It's not like that now, if it ever was.
I'm still not sure what to do with this realization, that I'm rooting for myself moreso than the collective. Do I want to suppress it? Not all of me does because there isn't much about sports anymore that brings on intense emotion like this did. Do I want to flaunt it? No, because most sports fans don't want to hear it. I'll probably just keep playing it where it lies.
I'll stick up for this maneuver to this extent: Without this attachment, I'm probably only barely watching these playoffs. If the only thing that mattered was the Buffalo Sabres' order of finish, I'd hardly be watching a second of this year's postseason. But to me it isn't, and as it happens my horse is in a duel down the stretch with a chance to win.
So yesterday in Toronto my friend Bob walks over with a report on his friend Larry. Word is that Larry made a pretty nice sale on an old card here Friday in Day 1 of the semi-annual Sports Card Expo. How good, I asked Bob.
The reply: "Fifty thousand".
I'd say that's alright.
I spent a good part of Saturday at this show, considered by many the premier regular sports card show in Canada. I saw a lot of everything, from high-grade vintage cards like the one Larry sold to pedestrian base cards from the many current issues, and a lot in between.
Here are some highlights. (I wish I had pictures for you but the few that I took didn't turn out. Sorry about that.)
Early Wynn's lifetime entry pass into the Hall of Fame. My question was, if I were to buy this thing for the several hundred dollars being asked would it allow me the same access to Cooperstown? I figured not. I was amused by the idea of it as a collector's piece -- "Hey buddy, want to see Early Wynn's lifetime pass to the Hall?", I'd be asking everyone I knew -- but not at that price. No sale here.
John F. Kennedy/Jacqueline Kennedy duel cut signature "Frozen Fabrics" 1/1 card. There it was, staring up at me, an autograph from the great JFK. I didn't know the card but I read the description and asked to make sure, "Is his wife's signature on the other side?"
"You mean his ex-wife?", the dealer replied.
Ummm...
Well it was on the back. Knowing it was miles out of my budget I asked anyway: "How much?" "Five thousand," the dealer said. Quickly his assistant chimed in from the back: "It's a great price actually." Oh I'm sure.
I handed the card back to the dealer, who then said to another, "I guess Jackie's not his ex-wife, is she." Good catch.
Roberto Clemente 1955 Topps rookie card. Turns out I spent more than $500 at this show in Toronto on a dealer from Grand Island. Go figure. It doesn't come as a shock to me as Gary Nuchereno is just about my favorite person in the hobby. He's knowledgable, he's fair, and above all else he's really, really nice.
I walked around Saturday for hours and noticed that the dealer's demeanor made all the difference in whether I stopped and looked or walked by. Look happy and welcoming and I'll stop for sure. Look surly or bored or worst of all tired and I'll see you next time.
This Clemente that Gary had was roughed up, but I've been thinking a lot about it lately. I'm reading David Maraniss' book "Clemente" and finally filling in on a true sports hero. I didn't see myself grabbing a Clemente rookie yesterday but the price was right so I grabbed it with nice copies of the '62 and '63 Clementes and also a PSA 8 Steve Yzerman O-Pee-Chee rookie. Drove home happy.
Some wrestler guy. There was some wrestler guy there. He seemed nice.
Wayne Gretzky-signed unfolded cereal box of "Shreddies". I'm pretty sure that at least once in his life Wayne Gretzky has signed everything.
Complete PSA-graded set of 1937 O-Pee-Chee cards. The guy selling these really impressed me. He had a great attitude about selling and was very fair. I couldn't afford this great old set but I respected it. He also had a set of 1951 Topps Red Backs and a 1969 Topps Baseball set. He sold the '69s. I was rooting for this guy.
Jerk guy that gives the hobby a bad name. Yeah, he was there too. I don't know what card they were discussing but a dealer and a potential customer were discussing something. The collector asked for a price. "Four hundred," the dealer responded. The collector smiled and started to walk away.
The dealer then asked the guy to name his price in a bullying fashion. "Hey, you're not even going to negotiate with me?" Eventually and meekly the collector said he wanted to spend between $150 and $200 on the card. Before he could even finish saying it the dealer said, "Oh you're crazy" and started putting the guy down. To his credit as he walked away for good the collector said, "This is why I didn't want to tell you my price."
1951 Toronto Maple Leafs baseball program, unscored, for game vs. Buffalo Bisons. My great uncle Cliff Fannin pitched for Toronto in the International League after hurting his arm while with the AL's St. Louis Browns. Uncle Cliff is pictured in this program, and once I saw that I snatched it. I didn't know until yesterday that Uncle Cliff wore #20 for Toronto. I think he may have thrown a no-hitter there. Time to do some more digging. $35.
Lots of people enjoying themselves. Collecting isn't what it used to be -- just ask anyone. For me in many ways this is a good thing. The web allows for the average collector to be much more knowledgable about real sale prices and not be as easily duped by dealers. Set building is more easily possible now as so many thousands of cards sit online all the time. This takes the buzz out of shows a little bit, but to be able to browse a show like this and see so many different things, not to mention the many sports stars on hand (Hasek, Perreault, Lafontaine, Hodgson, Tiant, Rice, Raines, Jenkins, Wrestler Guy), is quite fun.
The hobby may have changed a lot but don't let anyone tell you that it's dead, or even dying. If you don't believe me, ask Bob's friend Larry. See what he says.
Reading my Twitter mentions -- short notes written to me by listeners, for the uninformed -- is best done with oven mitts on. There are good and clever comments there but much of it is scorched Earth. Sometimes I predict the worst and don't bother looking.
Yesterday though, as Daniel Briere passed the Buffalo Sabres franchise in playoff goals scored since Briere's infamous departure in the summer of 2007 and helped lead Philadelphia to a seventh playoff series win in that time, one phrase I did see shined through to me.
#mediocrityliveshere
I'm feeling that today.
The worst feeling out there about our sports teams over the last 10 years or so is that being less than best is good enough for them. Years of the Sabres battling against big-nation teams that outspent them 3-to-1 and talking about educating fans. The Bills keeping Dick Jauron, a poster child for mediocrity, year after year despite patently mediocre results. The Sabres caressing Ales Kotalik and Jochen Hecht as Daniel Briere and Chris Drury got dressed and fled the scene. Mega-wealthy John Rigas -- before the prison term -- and Tom Golisano putting profits over playoffs. The Bills hiring Marv Levy as general manager because they didn't think you knew what championship fever felt like anymore, or because they were totally incompetent, or both.
#mediocrityliveshere
Now here we are, hoping things are different. Terry Pegula jumped in and bled money. We got Robyn Regehr on a plane. We gave Christian Ehrhoff 10 years. We asked Ville Leino what he wanted and then presumably, just for fun, doubled it. Heck, even the Bills followed suit with Mario Williams and now we have reason to believe times have changed. That our teams have their eyes on the prize.
I think.
Briere is holding me back. With each goal he scores Briere bitterly reminds us of how close to the Cup the Sabres once were. That upward thrust of his right arm after every goal can feel like he's giving us a certain obscene gesture. They're reminders of one of the grossest miscalculations ever to befall a sports team.
And until Darcy Regier and Lindy Ruff are replaced, the Sabres make at least a deep playoff run or Briere retires, it's still relevant. Whether you're tired of hearing about it is not a gauge.
It's not just Regier's bad call on Briere's value that comes back up every spring. It's Ruff too. I'm watching Philadelphia win a series despite allowing 4.33 goals per game, and my thoughts are drifting to the dozen or so times Paul Hamilton told us of Ruff and Briere butting heads about Danny's reliability in his own zone.
Barf.
#mediocrityliveshere
It's all well and good to talk about winning the Stanley Cup as your sole reason for existence. But you also have to act like it. I believe in Pegula and think the Sabres will come to do that. But it frankly hasn't happened yet. If it had, the Sabres would probably have a new general manager and definitely have a new coach.
It's cliche, but the Sabres and Bills just haven't wanted it bad enough. They both for too many years have done too many things that are not convincing of a championship mentality. You don't short-change a contending team by depriving it of Michael Peca for a full season. You don't condescend to your fans by hiring an 80-year-old GM that doesn't watch your games or, arguably worse, a marketing man. And quintessentially, you don't let the co-captains and top scorers of a two-time Cup-contending team get away.
I know it was almost five years ago, thanks. It still matters. Briere should still be a Sabre. Some of the Flyers' success should be ours to enjoy, not curl away from. You know, while I'm here speaking of scorched Earth.
It's cold. Ever hit a ball when it was 40 degrees out? It's early in the season, where fourth and fifth starters' spots in the rotation are often skipped. The Cleveland Indians, whose pitching isn't quite elite, sometimes get their games blacked out.
There are lots of plausible explanations for why it feels like pitching is dominating hitting these days. With baseball, you don't have to guess. Almost everything now in the game measurable, which in theory I like but it can dump cold water on a formerly fun debate.
In this era of great pitchers -- Baseball is batting .238 with a .687 OPS so far in 2012, and it was .255/.719 in 2011 -- it can still be fun to toss this question around though: Who is the best pitcher in the game?
With a question like that the first order of business is to determine how you're going to answer it. Do you want the active pitcher that's had the best career? The one you'd pick to pitch if your life were on the line? The one you'd start an expansion team with? The one you'd think would be toughest to hit?
Depending on the method, there are possibly several right answers. Here are a few of them:
Justin Verlander, Detroit. The reigning AL MVP has been blowing away hitters for six years, and he may right now be peaking. He's 61-24 since 2009 with killer strikeout totals. Verlander was susceptible to the in-game slump, rendering his statistics misaligned with his talent, until last year when he simply dominated the league. Verlander is as hot as there is, but his postseason numbers aren't good and he's eight starts.
Best pitcher in the game? Maybe, but he's not my guy if my life is at stake.
Who is?
Roy Halladay, Philadelphia. Of the newfangled stats, perhaps WAR (wins above replacement) has received the most respect from the old-school thinkers. How much better is a player than the league average? Well among pitchers, Halladay is the active leader and has ranked in the top TWO in his league eight of the last 10 seasons.
He has a postseason no-hitter to his credit. He never gets hurt. You know what you're getting with Halladay: Innings, outs, and a lot of strikes.
Halladay though is 34. He might be the best in the game today, but with more than 2,500 innings under him you're not starting your new team with him.
Who would that guy be?
Clayton Kershaw, LA Dodgers. The 2011 NL Cy Young Award winner at only 24 years old has already posted three 30-start seasons in which his ERA finished under 3.00. If you need it, he also won a Gold Glove last year. Kershaw might be the best left-hander in the game and he's still just getting started. I lucked into seeing him in June 2010 in Dodger Stadium against the Braves, and all Jason Heyward did that night was go 0-for-5 with five strikeouts.
He's young enough to get the call for your mythical expansion team. Would he? You could go with...
Matt Moore, Tampa Bay. Moore started 2011 in Double-A and ended it making the two-time AL champion Texas Rangers look stupid. 10 innings, three hits, one run. Unlike Kershaw, a high first-round pick, Moore went only in the eighth round of the 2007 draft. He can't yet be called the best pitcher in the game, but his stuff in the snow the other day in Detroit was the inspiration for this article. If you could pick anyone in the game to start your expansion team with, I say this guy is a respectable choice.
There are many more pitchers that come close to this list. Jered Weaver in two years has had a sub-2.00 ERA at home. CC Sabathia has won 59 games in three seasons. Stephen Strasburg has it all but also has Tommy John surgery in his past. Felix Hernandez is 26 with a Cy Young to his credit. Jon Lester can be great when he isn't moping. Ex-Bison Cliff Lee and his pinpoint control are a study in perseverance. Tim Lincecum has had a rough start as his velocity is down, but since 2008 who has been better? What about Chris Carpenter? Or Johan Santana when he's healthy?
I want to say it was one of those nights but then that means there were other nights like it and I'm not sure about that. Of course I just got home and I'm not thinking so clearly.
Sabres 6, Maple Leafs 5, overtime. That game wore me out. The stress kicked in early and never relented. That's what for me it feels like to be on a three-hour flight where the pilot can't find smooth air. Then you land and it's Miami or some place like that and the ride was worth it.
I can't remember an NHL goal anything like Jordan Leopold's game-tying tally tonight. It reminded of when Sabretooth plays goalie against little kids and the kids fall down and get up and fall down and get up and then finally get a shot off and Sabretooth moves out of the way. That's the closest thing.
What a memory this game will be if the Sabres make the playoffs now. To think this happened on the same night that Florida blew a 3-0 lead at home with its division title at stake and lost in overtime is hard to believe.
Give the Sabres credit. No doubt the losses of Christian Ehrhoff and Tyler Myers have messed with their minds. Andrej Sekera reminds me of a No. 3 starter in baseball that has to move up in the rotation and just isn't the same pitcher after that. Sekera is a good player but he's no ace. I still don't know who Alexander Sulzer is but that was one of the most interesting Sabres games I've ever attended and it seemed everything that happened involved him.
Marcus Foligno can run for mayor only it would be a step down. Make the playoffs or miss them, his energy and willingness to throw the body are long overdue for a winger on this team. Looked to me like the Leafs mocked Drew Stafford for when Foligno stepped in to defend him against Mike Komisarek early in the game. (Nodding.) Foligno is already a big-time fan favorite.
