MEDFORD, Mass. Peggy and Dave Finnerty admit they're hockey nuts, having spent countless hours carting their two sons to games at the break of dawn. "It's what we love to do," says Peggy, who sports a Boston Bruins scrunchy around her pony tail as she watches a practice at Anthony LoConte Rink in this blue-collar suburb.
"I'm five, but I've been playing for six years."
Peggy is expecting, and the Finnertys are doing everything they can to make sure their newest child gets a head start in the highly competitive world of youth hockey. Every Tuesday and Thursday, Peggy straps on her pads and takes to the ice with other pregnant women in what is believed to be the world's first pre-natal hockey league.
"We figure if we can give our kid an extra nine months of ice time, it will pay off when tryouts for the travel team roll around in a couple of years," says Dave, who played goalie for Bridgewater-Raynham High School. "You want to be prepared for those drills where they skate around the orange traffic cones."
The parental urge to impart skills to offspring still in the womb began with the "Baby Mozart" movement a few years back. Researchers claimed that children exposed to classical music during their mothers' pregnancies had higher IQs than those whose parents listened to heavy metal and hard rock. Zell Miller, then-governor of Georgia, sponsored legislation to give classical music to every expectant mother in the state, but the program was cancelled when numerous couples tried to exchange the cassettes for Shania Twain tapes.
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and Shania Twain: He does spend more time on his hair.
Pediatricians are skeptical that pre-natal hockey does much to produce future Bobby Orrs. "Hockey requires a high degree of hand-eye coordination that you won't get just bouncing around in your mother's amniotic fluid," said Dr. Pamela Wysbard of the Brigham & Women's Hospital in Boston. Wysbard said the possibility of injury to the fetus greatly outweighed any benefit that pre-natal hockey could produce. "We discourage women from checking while pregnant, unless you're in a neutral-zone trap. There's too much risk of a penalty, and then the other team gets a power play."
"Deke him, Kyle!"
But Dave Finnerty isn't buying it. "Last year Kyle, our 12-year old, got to the state finals and we lost in overtime when a kid from Melrose blew by him on a breakaway. That never woulda happened if he'd been out there with his mom before he was born," Finnerty claims.
And how old was Kyle when he began playing hockey? "Four," Finnerty says ruefully. "He got a late start."
BOSTON. As the Boston Bruins unveiled their new logos and uniforms yesterday at the TD Banknorth Garden, the sentiments of long-suffering fans of the team were echoed across the country. "There was nothing wrong with the NHL--and I mean nothing--that a new set of uniforms couldn't fix," according to Sean Murphy, father of two sons who play in Squirt and Mini-Mite leagues here.
Old logos
The Bruins' old logo is a black-and-gold spoked letter "B". The Bruins' new logo is a black-and-gold spoked letter "B" with added black trim. Karen Lavangetta, a mother of three from Winchester, Mass., recognized the difference immediately. "One has an extra black line," she said. "That will make up for the Joe Thornton trade."
New logos.
The Bruins' other new logo is also an old logo, depicting a prowling bear beneath the word "Bruins" arranged in a semicircle over its back. The Bruins' owners, whose tight-fisted approach to payrolls is cited by fans as the cause of the team's failure to win a Stanley Cup since 1972, said they chose the old logos as the new logos to save money to spend on free-agents. "If we take the $85 we will save in artwork and printing costs and invest it wisely, we should be able to take a run at Sidney Crosby when his contract expires," said Jeremy Jacobs from Delaware North headquarters in an underground bunker at an undisclosed location outside of Buffalo, New York.
Delaware North Headquarters: "I say we jack up a medium Coke to $15."
The NHL ordered the off-season upgrade in order to stem declining attendance and viewership since the league's 2004-05 labor dispute. That player lockout caused professional hockey to lose its status as the fourth major sport to bowling, which is interrupted by fights less often.
The next Jaromir Jagr?
Major-league sports team use multiple logos and uniforms to increase revenues from expensive doo-dads that parents must buy their children in order to get them to take their seats, or leave arenas after games. "The cost of running an NHL is so great that owners need to get revenue from any source they can," says Owen Fisher, an expert on professional sports finances who teaches at Brandeis University. "People don't realize it, but a rookie defenseman for the Bruins can make as much as a hostess in a really nice restaurant."
Sure she's cute, but is she a penalty-killer?
In other championship-starved cities hockey fans greeted the news that the NHL had required franchises to upgrade their on-ice apparel with sighs of relief. Chicago Blackhawk fan Charlie Adams, a pipefitter, said he hoped the change will mean his team will win it all before he dies. "Maybe they'll have to wheel me into the bleachers on a stretcher, but if I can just catch a glimpse of the guys in their new unis with Lord Stanley's Cup lifted over their heads--I'll drag my butt up to the concession stand and order a Heileman's Special Export beer."
Canadian youth stamp collectors: It's not just for dweebs anymore.
OTTAWA, Ontario. It's been thirteen years since a Canadian hockey team won the Stanley Cup. In the last ten years, Canada has been the International Ice Hockey Federation champion only three times. Canadian youngsters who once would proudly display gaps in their teeth caused by blows to the mouth from flying pucks are abandoning hockey for fencing, macrame and stamp collecting.
Stephen Harper: "Why the puck shouldn't we?"
Faced with a national crisis of identity that threatened to bring down his government, Canadian Prime Minister Stephen Harper today announced that he was taking the drastic but necessary measure of devaluing the nation's currency against those of other hockey-playing countries.
"This is what we call a cross-Czech!"
"We cannot stand idly by while a nation with a 'z' in it like the Czech Republic surpasses us in the hockey arms race," Harper said. "Devaluation is a strategy that worked for us in tennis, where the rules of Canadian Doubles permit us to have an extra player on our side of the net."
"Two against one isn't fair!"
The Canadian dollar is currently exchangeable into just 89 cents in American money, causing Canadian forwards to come up short when compared to other National Hockey League players. "I had an odd-man rush against Tim Thomas of the Bruins last week," said Montreal Canadian forward Aaron Downey, "but at current exchange rates that dropped to a one-on-one and he stoned me."
"I'm telling you, Canadian pennies aren't worth bending over for."
The Montreal Canadians are also known as "les Habs", a shortened version of the team's original name, "Les Habitants de Montreal", which is French for "people who live in Montreal". The team's monicker was voted the most boring sports nickname of all time in a 2005 on-line poll by FoxSports.com.
Canadian loon.
The Canadian dollar is also referred to as the "loonie", after the Canadian loon. A member of the Unification Church is referred to as a "Moonie" after the Reverend Sun Myung Moon, its founder.
Rev. Sun Myung Moon: A different kind of loonie.
When a reporter pointed out that to correct Canada's current hockey imbalance the country should technically revalue the loonie higher, rather than devaluing its currency, Harper was undeterred. "Higher, lower, whatever," he replied with an impatient tone. "If we screw up, we'll get it right the second time."
Ah, the memories! Every Boston sports fan has them. For those who are new to Boston, or just visiting, here are some "must see" landmarks in one of America's great sports towns.
South Main Street, Worcester, Mass.: While not technically in Boston, in fact nearly forty miles away, it was here that Carlton Fisk hit his historic home run in the bottom of the twelfth inning of game six of the 1975 World Series on the television in my apartment. A recent transplant to the East Coast from St. Louis Cardinal country, I was moved that night to develop a rooting interest in the Red Sox as my American League favorite, a decision with consequences that reverberate to this day for my wife.
Fisk's home run.
One Boston Place, Boston. It was here that the world, or at least the part of the world that I occupied, first learned of the tragic death of Len Bias from a cocaine overdose. A Boston Celtics season ticket holder at the firm where I worked came walking down the hall mumbling "Len Bias is dead" in a somber tone that suggested the President had been shot. The first-round pick that the Celtics used to select Bias--projected to be "the next Michael Jordan"--was acquired in exchange for Gerald Henderson, a starting guard on the Celtics' 1986 championship squad whose steal of a James Worthy pass in game two of the 1984 NBA Finals led to a Celtics victory in overtime.
The tragic death of Len Bias taught us all a lesson that one hopes will never be forgotten; never trade a starting shooting guard for a draft choice.
Len Bias is the tall guy.
Massachusetts Turnpike, Framingham exit. Okay, so it's not even in the same county. Still, it is here that David Henderson hit the home run on the radio of a Toyota Corolla against California Angels' relief pitcher Donnie Moore in Game 5 of the 1986 American League Championship Series as my fiancee and I were returning from a getaway weekend at a Vermont bed-and-breakfast that did not have a TV. With only one strike needed to clinch the Angels' first-ever pennant, Henderson homered to tie the game, and in the 11th drove in what proved to be the winning run with a sacrifice fly off Moore. The teams returned to Boston where the Sox won two straight games to advance to the 1986 World Series.
Moore, who had long battled depression, was subsequently traded to the Kansas City Royals, which didn't help. He ultimately committed suicide as California fans and the media never forgave or forgot that he "blew" game five. In Donnie's memory, I recall for my wife this significant moment in baseball history whenever we pass this exit.
"Kansas City sucks, but at least Tampa Bay doesn't have a team yet."
Nino's Pizza, Cambridge Street, Boston. It is here that I once had a slice of pizza with my friend Vince and noticed an autographed picture of Bobby Orr and Phil Esposito eating in the same booth we were sitting in. This is my only link to the 1972 Boston Bruins, the team that won the franchise's last Stanley Cup. Esposito was known for his gritty play in front of the net, which often produced second-chance goals. He is the punch line to the most famous graffito in Boston sports history. "Jesus Saves" wrote an anonymous author with a religious turn of mind above a urinal; "Espo scores on the rebound!" a wag writes just underneath.
"Let's go to Nino's!"
Jordan's Furniture, Natick, Mass. Not Boston, but closer than Framingham. In the 1986 Eastern Conference Finals, the Celtics face a tough Milwaukee Bucks team led by Sidney Moncrieff. Celtics center Robert Parrish sprains his ankle as we're shopping for a couch--and comes back out after half-time to play hurt! There's a TV with the game on at the sales counter--I can't tear myself away as I watch Parrish gut it out in a demonstration that inspires his teammates to sweep the series. My wife asks me whether I prefer a bluish-green sofa, or one that's covered with red chintz. I say "Go with the blue-green one." She has buyer's remorse as soon as the thing is delivered and blames me. Parish retires in 1997, outlasting the couch by several years.
"Don't sit on the couch if you're sweaty!"
Beacon Street, Boston. On November 23, 1984, my girlfriend and I are scheduled to have dinner at a fashionable restaurant with her smug sister--an investment banker--and her husband. It is the fourth quarter of the Boston College-Miami game, with Miami leading 45-41. "John and Della are waiting out in the car," my girlfriend says. "There's only time for one more play," I say--"tell Della to blow it out her panty hose." My girlfriend starts to get all teary-eyed. "You and your stupid sports!" she says. "All right," I say and turn off the TV. Gerard Phelan catches Doug Flutie's "Hail Mary" pass and BC wins, 47-41. Thankfully, I have since been able to see the replay a few times.
"Cancel that reservation!"
Suggestion: Next time, call the restaurant and tell them you'll be a few minutes late, the ball is about to be snapped for the college freaking football play of the century.
"Look at the cute little kitty!"
Looney Tunes Records, Newbury Street, Boston. In 1987 I sell the only Michael Jackson album I ever owned--"Thriller"--at this used record store. Chuck Sullivan, son of New England Patriots' owner Billy Sullivan, organizes the Jackson Family "Victory Tour", which includes Michael, Jermaine, Tito, Randy, Marlon and Jackie Jackson--in fact, every Jackson since Andrew.
Andrew Jackson: He couldn't make it.
The tour is a financial disaster, leading to the sale of the Patriots to Victor Kiam, then to James Orthwein, who threatens to move the team to St. Louis. Instead, Robert Kraft purchases the team, and three Super Bowl victories are the improbable result of this "Butterfly Effect"--the notion popularized by mathematician and meteorologist Edward Lorenz that the flapping of a butterfly's wings in Brazil can cause a tornado in Texas.
"Attention ladies and gentlemen--game five is cancelled."
Hanscom Field, Bedford, Massachusetts. It is here that, on October 28, 2004, I was scheduled to board a flight for St. Louis to see Game 5 of the 2004 World Series, which ended on October 27, 2004. Also not in Boston.
Bucky Bleepin' Dent.
Greenwich Village, New York. While technically outside the 617 area code, it is here that Bucky Dent hit his historic home run off Mike Torrez on a television in an apartment, propelling the New York Yankees to victory in a one-game playoff to decide the 1978 American League Eastern Division champions. I sat on a couch between two college classmates, both Yankee fans. I suppose it could have been worse, but only if I had been there in person.
CROTON-ON-HUDSON, New York. Caitlin Morgan has dreamed about attending Wellesley College, her mother's alma mater, almost as long as she can remember.
"Mom took me there when I was a little girl, and I just fell in love with the place," says the high school junior as she enters the storefront office of an SAT test-preparation company in this tony Westchester County suburb.
But Caitlin's dream may fall victim to the iron laws of demographics. The high school class of 2008 will produce more college applications than any in U.S. history, and 57% of those will be written by young women. The odds of getting into the more prestigious women's colleges have accordingly never been longer.
So what is Caitlin doing about it? In addition to cramming her summer schedule full of community service projects such as teaching synchronized swimming to homeless men, she is trying a new sport, one she hopes will give her an edge when the Wellesley admissions committee reviews her file--roller derby.
"So many girls from the better prep schools have field hockey and lacrosse on their resumes," says Caitlin's mother Linda, an investment banker with a charm bracelet that could hold a small Texas chain gang. "We wanted something that would make our daughter stand out."
Long derided as the distaff equivalent of professional wrestling, roller derby is increasingly being adopted by young women who need a "plus factor" to get into their school of choice. Yan-Lan Lian is the overachieving daughter of immigrant parents who has already performed a solo concert at Carnegie Hall, received several patents and won the national Spelling Bee, but feels there is a gap in her resume that only roller derby can fill.
"It is a fun game, if you don't mind the stitches," she says of the scars she bears on her forehead and cheeks. "I feel a pretty face is less important to the Dean of Admissions at Stanford than a diverse background with a variety of interests."
Caitlin and Yan-Lan compete weekly in the tough College Prep Roller Derby League here where the minimum SAT score is 750 verbal, 700 math. "When the jam is on, I want to know that my teammates could perform a quadratic equation on me if go flying over the rail," says Morgan, who plays for the Westchester County Witches.
As a "jammer", Morgan scores a point for the Witches each time she passes a member of the opposing team. Lian is a "blocker" for the Croton Cramp, and tries to prevent jammers from passing by throwing elbows and checking her opponents onto the track or into the rail.
Admissions officers at top schools say that the competition for a limited number of slots at their schools can be vicious, and that parents are justified in seeking that extra "edge". "Frankly, I don't think an Emily Dickinson would get into Mt. Holyoke these days unless she had something besides 'How dreary to be Somebody, How public like a Frog!' on her transcript," says Elinor Walton, Dean of Admissions at the top-ranked women's college in western Massachusetts. "I think we'd wait-list her and tell her to spend a year arm-wrestling or candlepin bowling to round herself out a little."
When asked if she would be willing to name her favorite non-roller derby sports teams in order to provide "tags" for FoxSports.com, Walton happily obliged. "I like the Red Sox, the Patriots and the Celtics," she said with a mischievous smile, "but the team that really twists my panty hose is the Bruins. As a defeatist intellectual with low self-esteem, how could I not be in love with a team that trades away Joe Thornton the year he wins the Hart Trophy winner for Manny, Moe and Jack of the Pep Boys, or whoever San Jose gave us?"
For Caitlin Morgan, roller derby adds up to good clean fun and a standout resume, says her mother, even if it means putting thousands of dollars of orthodonture at risk. "We can always buy Caitlin new teeth," she says, "but getting into the right college is something you only get one shot at."
Con Chapman is a Boston-area writer. He is the author of "The Year of the Gerbil: How the Yankees Won (and the Red Sox Lost) the Greatest Pennant Race Ever," a history of the 1978 AL East pennant race, and a number of plays, including "Number One Hockey Mom," "Please, Pope," and "What Mickey Belle Isle Told You," a trilogy about hockey (JAC Publishing). His work is available on Amazon Shorts (at 49 cents a dowload), and he writes on sports for Flak Magazine.
