Ms. Conduct

Reformed uberdiva Ray Emery needs a moment alone

I think most everybody has a little diva in them. It’s the part of you that says, “Bitch, please!” in the face of perceived injustice. The part that says, “I can TOO do this!” in the face of glaring adversity. It’s a good thing to let your inner diva out occasionally to wag her finger at the world.

But, of course, letting your diva out too much leaves you prone to drama and self-absorption. Divas are strong but sometimes so willful, they get in their own way.

No position in hockey is immune from diva-tude, but goalies (and I shamelessly include myself) seem to be just a titch more prone to it.

Read the rest of this entry »

"Dear Hockey Gods, I know I said I wouldn't ask for anything else if you brought the Jets back, but..."

Growing up, my Methodist parents dragged me to church every Sunday. Like a good only child, I had plenty of quiet ways to entertain myself and keep up appearances, but the whole thing never really clicked with me.

Of course, the basics stick because they just seem like good common sense. The Golden Rule, some version of the Ten Commandments; many tenets of Christianity simply fall under what I would consider civilized behavior.

And of course, there are plenty of good stories from which to learn general life lessons. Believe me, I’ve thought of Job and his unwavering patience quite a lot this season as a Wild fan.

But in terms of having the belief in and passion for something, enough to make it the foundation of my philosophy as a person, I just couldn’t get on board with Jesus. I searched for other religions that felt more relatable, but by the end it, I just had a comfortable mishmash of ideals that felt right to me.

Then in my 30s, I found hockey and I was born again. It’s been the center of my universe ever since.

So, for a long time, I’ve been thinking about the religious-like fervor I and many others have for the sport. Let’s look at the evidence for hockey’s candidacy as not only the greatest sport in the world but one of the most fun religions:

Read the rest of this entry »

"We're sorry, Dustin. You're just not... Mike Richardsy enough."

The list of things I find magical and mysterious about hockey is a mile long, and near the top of it is the Captaincy of an NHL team (imagine me punctuating “Captaincy” with jazz hands).

While part of a captain’s role is well-defined and practical, it’s the maddeningly ethereal side of it that I’ve spent a ridiculous number of hours noodling over.

If you have a great captain, you may never even think about what he does to be great. It just happens. He’s gracious with the media, has his finger on the pulse of his team, and leads by example both on and off the ice.

He’s smart, heroic, and responsible. He’s the sort of guy you could take home to Mom and she’d end up liking him more than she likes you.  “You should have married that one,” she’ll say 20 years later.

The man with the C on his sweater is, in the eyes of his organization, the ultimate player representative for the team, embodying the qualities they want to portray to the outside world.

If you’ve picked the right guy, there’s really no reason to even think about it, other than the occasional, “Gosh, our captain is a bang up fella!”

But if your team hasn’t picked the right guy, the results can range from vaguely cringe-inducing to downright destructive.

Read the rest of this entry »