Red Wings Might Have Competition Right Where They Want Them

Last June 12, as the Pittsburgh Penguins reveled in their first Stanley Cup win since 1992 on the Joe Louis Arena ice surface, the state of the team in mid-December, 2008 must have seemed to them like ancient history---something written in hieroglyphics on a cave wall somewhere.

I caught team president Mario Lemieux before he made his way into the locker room. The Pens had made a coaching change after the new year. And I wanted to know how the Penguins were able to go from also-rans around Christmas to Stanley Cup champions six months later.

"They bought in," Lemieux said about new coach Dan Bylsma. "And we got our special teams in order."

Same question, posed to Bylsma moments later.

"I thought that we had the talent to make this happen," Bylsma told me just after donning his champions baseball cap, about his feelings when he took the team over from Michel Therrien. "I didn't want to say it too loud, but I knew we had the talent."

The Penguins were 16-10-4 one year ago today, on the fringe of playoff contention. A few weeks later, they sank to 20-19-4. No one was talking Penguins when they were handicapping Cup contenders. They appeared to be another of those Eastern Conference champs who were destined to sink back into anonymity.

Under Bylsma, the Pens caught fire. They finished the regular season on a 16-2-3 tear. And they kept that momentum rolling in the playoffs.

The NHL, more than any other league, operates on its own space-time continuum. It's like dog years. Six months ago in the NHL might as well be years in the past.

Six months ago, the Red Wings were 60 minutes away from a Stanley Cup championship. Today, they're scrambling to stay in the playoff picture. Their roster has been depleted by free agency losses and injury.

Maybe they have their competition right where they want them.

I'm not filing a motion to have coach Mike Babcock replaced, like the Penguins did with Therrien. But I also know that no team in its right mind would want to play the Red Wings in the playoffs, no matter their seeding.

The Red Wings haven't played the role of the snake in the grass in years. They've been among the top five teams in contention for the Cup since the mid-1990s. You don't sneak up on teams with 120-point seasons.

But no one is talking Red Wings right now, just like no one was talking Penguins a year ago. Yet the injured players the Wings have won't stay out of the lineup forever. When the team returns to full health---assuming that's possible---it will likely be just in time for the last third of the season.

Just enough time for the hurt forwards to find their timing and their hands.

I hope the Red Wings seize this moment and enjoy NOT being mentioned as the "team to beat" throughout the winter. I hope they find contentment in playing in relative obscurity until their key people get back.

But I also hope they know how to deal with it, for it ain't the norm around "Hockeytown," today's Montreal.

Still, if you're a Western Conference playoff team, and you want a piece of the Red Wings come spring, then you've been sniffing the goal post paint.

Last Night on "The Knee Jerks": Sports Shutterbuggin' with Greg Shamus

We took a step outside the box last night on "The Knee Jerks," the weekly gabfest I co-host on Blog Talk Radio with Big Al Beaton, who's rapidly beginning his own Internet writing empire.

It was our first show at our new 9:00 p.m. ET time slot, and our guest was professional sports photographer Greg Shamus, who's the official team photographer for the Pittsburgh Penguins (relax, he's a Detroiter), along with snapping shots for Getty Images and the NBA.

Greg took us behind the scenes in the life of a sports shutterbug and it was quite interesting. As Al said afterward, we could have gone longer than the allotted 45 minutes with Mr. Shamus.

After Greg left us, Al and I chomped into some meaty Detroit sports stories---don't forget, we were off last week due to some faulty plumbing in the Beaton household.

First up was the big Tigers trade last week that sent Curtis Granderson and Edwin Jackson to the Yankees and Diamondbacks, respectively. We both bemoaned the apparent lack of offense, and wrung our hands over the back end of the bullpen, with Brandon Lyon in Houston and Fernando Rodney practically out the door.

And it just wouldn't be an episode of "The Jerks" without several rants on the Lions, who provided us with plenty of material in the wake of their 48-3 thumping at the hands of the Baltimore Ravens.

We even got our "Jerks of the Week" in before time expired at 11:00---which is when we used to START the show.

Don’t forget to follow us on Twitter, for updates on scheduled guests, time changes, etc.

Upcoming guests/topics:

Dec. 21: NHL Central roundtable with Bleacher Report writers from Columbus, Chicago, Nashville, and St. Louis (rescheduled from 12/7)

Dec. 28: Tabletop sports game creator and business owner Keith Avallone


Some highlights from Monday’s show:

Big Al

On the Tigers: “They're going to have to win every game 1-0, 2-1! Granderson was a good player, but not a great player. And baseball people say the Tigers made a good trade in getting Max Scherzer for Edwin Jackson."

On the Lions: “I think Jim Schwartz had his first 'Bobby Ross moment' in the postgame presser."

On Drew Stanton not playing: "It shows that the Lions don't think he can play in the NFL."

Eno

On the Tigers trade: “Makes me long for the days when you made trades based on baseball, not on contract status."

On the Lions: “Daunte Culpepper has as much chance of returning to Detroit as Stroh's. Why was he in the entire game when the Lions were losing by 45 points?"

On Jason Hanson's rough year: “I'm uncomfortable saying that he's finished, because he had a good year last year with all the 50-yard field goals. And he's only 38 or 39, which is young in 'kicker years.'"

You can listen to the episode by clicking below!

Schwartz Officially a Lions Coach After Debacle in Baltimore

Forget the press conference last January. Forget the draft in April. Forget all the mini-camps and OTAs and even training camp.

Opening day in New Orleans? Pfft! The first win, against Washington? Puh-leeze.

Jim Schwartz officially became a Lions head coach Sunday, in the steady rain in Baltimore, his hometown. 48-3, Ravens. This is how they treat the native sons in the Crab City? It was the worst homecoming since Benigno Aquino was gunned down on the tarmac in the Philippines.

Schwartz was a Lions coach in name only---like a titular head---for the first 12 games of his tenure. But yesterday he was indoctrinated. He earned his mane.

It took until the 13th game, but there Schwartz was---at the post-game podium---madder than a wet hen.

"I hope you're not going live with this," he warned the electronic media folks. "If you are, you might want to make sure you're on a delay."

It wasn't quite "See you at the cemetery" or "I don't coach this stuff!" or "I'm the 'Big Buck'," but Schwartz was just getting started.

"That's not us," he seethed. "And it won't be us. I thought we were ready to play football today, and I was wrong."

Then this: "There will be accountability, and it goes beyond benching."

Legendary Red Wings coach and GM Jack Adams used to keep train tickets to Edmonton---the team's minor league affiliate in those days of the 1950s---plainly visible, sticking out of the breast pocket of his jacket. The implication was clear, even to the bumpkin hockey players of the day.

Schwartz threatened, basically, to excise some players forthwith after Sunday's manhandling by the Ravens, in the city of Edgar Allan Poe, and even old Edgar never penned anything so horrific.

It was a dark and stormy afternoon...

Schwartz is now a Lions coach. You can remove the training wheels now. Tear up the temporary permit and give him his permanent license. His baptism is now complete.

Schwartz joins Monte Clark, whose morbid reference to being buried in Anaheim after a 1-4 start became legend around town---especially since the Lions turned things around and finished 9-7 and won the Central Division.

He joins Marty Mornhinweg, who drove away from training camp in disgust on his motorcycle one afternoon.

He joins Bobby Ross, who threw a tantrum after a road game, trying to convince us that he really WAS a good football coach, despite evidence on the field to the contrary.

He joins Wayne Fontes, who tried to become a human lightning rod, declaring that he was "The Big Buck" and all critiques should be addressed to him, thank you.

And, Schwartz joins Rod Marinelli, whose weekly metaphors made him sound like your crazy uncle.

You're a Lions coach now, Schwartzie! Congratulations.

I'm surprised it took him this long, frankly. Maybe it's fitting that his first post-game slow burn came in Baltimore, about six miles from where he grew up. Something about being embarrassed in front of friends and family, who normally don't get to see the Lions play.

Schwartz gave the players the day off today, so that he may pore over film and pick out the miscreants. Kind of like a video version of a police lineup.

"There, officer! THAT'S him! THAT'S the man who waved at Ray Rice with a feeble tackling try!"

The above line could be repeated about half a dozen times, all about different defenders.

The Lions stepped onto the field in the rain in Baltimore and then played like they were made of sugar. They "tackled" like it was touch football.

The Lions lost 48-3? Eastern Michigan University ought to sue for copyright infringement.

It could have been worse, had Ravens coach John Harbaugh not pulled his starters after three quarters.

Oh, and about that....

The Lions lost RB Kevin Smith, who was having a decent year, for the season and maybe beyond to a serious knee injury. The play happened with the Lions losing by gobs of points, early in the fourth quarter. Schwartz might want to save some of the vilifying for himself. Why was Smith in the ballgame at that point?

And while we're at it, why was Daunte Culpepper in the ballgame---during the opening possession?

Culpepper is so out of Detroit, it's not even funny. He has as much chance of returning to the Motor City as Stroh's. Yet not only was he starting, he stayed in the game for all 60 minutes. And poor Drew Stanton, who must have done something horrible to someone in the organization, couldn't even get into a 48-3 game?

That's a great confidence builder---the coach is afraid you might screw things up with your team trailing by 45 points.

But losing Smith to an injury that may affect his career, when he had as much business being in the game at that point as me, and last I looked I'm not even on the practice squad, is a tough pill to swallow. Schwartz says there'll be accountability; he might want to start with himself.

Will Schwartz cut players today? This week? It would seem to be one of those closing the barn door after the horses are out things, but I still think it would send at least a modicum of a message. Hey, he'd be the first Lions coach to actually do that, so there's something.

The Lions are three games away from another off-season full of hole-patching and four months away from their annual appearance in the Top Three picks of the draft.

And Jim Schwartz finally, FINALLY, officially became the team's head coach yesterday, nearly a year after being hired. I'd shake his hand, but it's going to be affixed to a video machine remote control all day today.

I wonder how long before he presses charges?

The Shootout Makes a Mockery of the NHL

Leave it to the NHL to make the designated hitter rule look profound.

The NH Hell continues to chip away at its grand game, slowly but surely ruining it through a series of gimmicks, rule changes, and officiating that has the consistency of lumpy pancake batter.

The league is doing its best to kill its game by stripping it of what little credibility it has.

Take the shootout. Please.

There’s a phenomenon occurring right now in the NH Hell, and it has all the appeal of biting into a sandwich—after you’ve noticed the moldy bread from which it’s made.

What’s happening is that shootouts are gradually deciding more and more hockey games on a nightly basis. Playoff positioning is being determined by a bunch of faux penalty shots.

I don’t even like the word shootout. A shootout is something that happens at the OK Corral. Or, if it must happen in sports, then a shootout is an occasional high-scoring affair.

A shootout should be an adjective. But the NH Hell chose to make it a noun, and it’s spreading like cancer throughout the league.

Did you know that one of the greatest college football games ever played ended up in a tie?

Notre Dame-Michigan State, 1966. That game’s legacy hasn’t lost a smidgen of shine in 43 years, and the final score was 10-10. In fact, because there was no winner largely accounts for why that contest is so legendary.

Somewhere along the line, it was decided that every single NH Hell game have a winner. But the league couldn’t even get that right, because it managed to fashion a system whereby there could be a winner and yet, no loser.

The hockey shootout, me thinks, will go down in sports history as one of our greatest embarrassments. Generations down the line will ask two questions: How did George W. Bush get re-elected, and why did the NH Hell allow shootouts to decide games?

I start to get a nervous tick when I’m watching hockey and the score is tied with less than 10 minutes to play in “regulation,” a word that was once reserved for the thrill and drama of the playoffs.

I get that way because with each passing minute off the clock, we’re that much closer to overtime, which has merely become the opening act for the shootout.

An overtime session in the NH Hell is rapidly becoming five minutes of cautious, 4-on-4 hockey that is the equivalent of a game of egg toss at the company picnic. No one wants to have the egg break in their hands, so the goal isn’t a goal—it’s to survive the five minutes so you can win the game the way Commissioner Gary Bettman intended: with gimmicky 1-on-1 hockey.

The 4-on-4 thing was yet another gimmick. The original overtime rule—enacted for the 1983-84 season—stated that the teams would play 5-on-5, as normal, for up to five minutes and whoever scored won and whoever got scored upon lost. Two points for the winner, no points for the loser. Hard to argue with that, right?

Oh, and—get this—if NO ONE scored, the game would end in a (gasp!) tie.

Ties had been a part of the league since its creation. It was part of the charm of the hockey record—the trademark “yadda, yadda, and yadda” rhythm of a team’s won-lost-tied mark.

“What’s the Red Wings’ record now?”

“Oh, they’re 17, 14, and 6.”

Translated for today’s youngsters: 17 wins, 14 losses, and 6 ties.

The NH Hell still has the rhythm, but its meaning has been bastardized.

Today, 17-14-6 is a sugarcoated 17-20, for what 17-14-6 means now is that the team won 17 games—some in regulation, some in overtime, some in a shootout—lost 14 games—all in regulation—and then lost six more games, in a manner that’s for you to find out.

Maybe those games were lost in overtime, maybe in a shootout. Maybe five were in overtime, one in a shootout. Maybe four in a shootout, two in overtime. The NH Hell is the only league where a team’s record is shrouded in mystery.

But 17-14-6 isn’t 17-20 because teams get one point for each number in that mysterious third column.

Yes, you can “lose” an NH Hell game and still get a point. If the NFL had that, the Detroit Lions might lead the league in points. Maybe; who knows for sure? Quick, someone get that guy from Numb3rs .

So the hockey teams nowadays will often play 60 minutes with no clear cut winner and then commence to play up to five minutes of 4-on-4, which was originally intended to provide a more wide-open brand of hockey to encourage a game-winning goal.

But they could play 3-on-3 or 2-on-2 and it wouldn’t make a lick of difference, because more and more the strategy seems to be to “just get to the shootout unscathed.”

The funny thing is, you still get a point if you lose in overtime, but teams are figuring out that their best chance at that extra point is to be the outshooter in the shootout. The result? Overtime sessions that are polite and sanitary.

An NH Hell overtime anymore is a great time to run to the kitchen to make a bag of microwave popcorn, in order to be prepared for the big shootout.

Don’t worry—you’re not likely to miss anything.

What’s happening now is exactly what I was afraid of when the shootout was announced for the 2005-06 season—the first season after the lockout: an over-emphasis on the shootout as a means to an end, instead of as a last resort.

I cringe when I watch a shootout. It rankles me to no end to see a hockey game decided in such a fashion. It’s bush league and makes a mockery of the 65 minutes of hockey that preceded it.

Then, as if the league knows it’s doing something wrong, the “losing” team gets one point anyway, like a parting gift at a game show.

What’s wrong with a tie game? And what’s wrong with getting two points for a win and zero points for a loss? This is hockey, not Wheel of Fortune .

Jerebko's Baptism by Fire Good for Pistons, Long Term

Sit back, son, and let me tell you about a basketball time that once existed.

They once roamed the courts of the NBA---big, lumbering, slow moving beasts. A shooting range of six feet, tops. Unless you wanted to play four-on-five, you'd spend half of the 24-second clock waiting for them to take their place on the block.

Their space was the black hole of the game---if you tossed the ball into it, there it would disappear, until it reappeared in the form of a slam dunk or a "bunny."

They came from schools like UCLA and Centenary and Georgetown and St. Bonaventure. They were all 6'11" and weighed 240 pounds and wore size 20 sneakers. None of them could shoot free throws.

These were the "big men" of the NBA, and they became an endangered species sometime in the mid-1980s and now they're just about extinct.

One of the greatest of these behemoths, Wilt Chamberlain, was thought of so little by his coach when it came to Wilt's lack of mobility that Butch van Breda Kolff said, "If the basketball court was made of grass, Wilt would wear out a one-square foot patch."

They stopped breeding those type of bigs, or at the very least, the NBA stopped scouting them. Whatever, they're pretty much gone for good.

Today's big man runs up and down the court as if he's being chased. He can shoot from two area codes away from the hoop. He has a free throw shooting percentage of 80. And he's international now---he comes from Germany, France, and China. You don't scout them anymore, you import them.

The Pistons have one from Sweden. First time ever a Swede has laced up an NBA sneaker. Swen Nater and Rik Smits were Dutch. Close, but no meatball.

The Swede is Jonas Jerebko, and he wants us to know that his first name is pronounced "YO-nas," not like the bubblegum musical group of brothers. Oh, and while you're at it, Jerebko is properly pronounced "Yer-EB-ko." In Sweden, they treat Js like Ys.

Ironically, Jonas has a j---as in a jump shot. He can fire away from 22-24 feet and it won't look like he's a mason. In fact, he tickles the net at a reasonably successful rate.

Jerebko is starting and playing 30-35 minutes per game, as a Swedish rookie, because a) the Pistons didn't have anyone else, thanks to injuries, and b) he's actually pretty damn good, come to find out.



Jerebko, at 6'10", is playing small forward, which was once manned by guys who were 6'6" and who would get the ball 20 feet away and make like a whirling dervish toward the hoop. There's nothing whirling or dervish about Jerebko's game but that's OK---he defends. Yesterday's small forward snubbed his nose at the mere mention of the word "defense."

Jerebko defends---sometimes without much success because the guys he's been guarding have names like Kobe Bryant and Dwyane Wade and LeBron James---and he runs the floor well and he can pass a little bit and there's that outside shooting game of his. He's got some Dirk No-vitz-ki about him.

And he's the first Swede to ever play in the NBA, which should legally change its name to the International Basketball Association, truthfully.

New Pistons coach John Kuester clearly has no second thoughts about starting Jerebko and putting him up against some of the biggest scoring forwards on the planet.

"I don't think they had televisions sometimes in Sweden," Coach Q cracked after last night's humdinger of a win over the Denver Nuggets. The implication: Jerebko shouldn't be scared of something he's never seen before.

Well, it was another night where Yonas got torched: the Nuggets' Carmelo Anthony went off for 40 points, and a lot of those were at the Swede's expense; Jerebko played 34 minutes.

So it's not going to be a smooth ride for the kid as he gets baptized by fire. But Jerebko is getting invaluable experience---even if that means he'll make every highlight reel compiled by all the high-scoring small forwards in the league, as the beleaguered defender.

No one asked me but I like Jerebko---a lot. The Pistons haven't had someone of his skill set at his size who plays with that kind of enthusiasm since Rasheed Wallace, pre-spoilage.

Jerebko is likely to sit back down and come off the bench once Tayshaun Prince gets healthy again, which may be soon. But it's a win-win for Kuester, who'll get his No. 1 small forward back AND an "X" factor for his bench.

This Swede might also be the first NBA STAR from that country, too.

No yoke.