Kukla's Korner

A2Y Glossary

Updated Bitches, on 29 November 2010. 

I know you’ve been sad, that a stale glossary has made your families anxious and your neighbors irritable.  Many of these terms have been created by you, the 19 A2Y readers.  The best ones, even if they are creations of your imagination, I’ve taken full credit for…because that, mother****ers, is how I roll.  If you’re interested in seeing how each is applied, enter the term in the KK search box and you’ll be on your way to family fun.

Introduction
There will be times you’ll be confused.  That confusion will make you sad.  I’m here to help you through that difficult time by providing you this glossary to assist in alleviating that confusion and resulting sadness.  We, the bustling staff here at A2Y, sometimes use phrases that have unique meaning in the context of Wing-speak.  Below is a breakdown of those phrases and their definitions.  Some we’ve come up with ourselves. Others your fellow readers have suggested.  Enjoy and check back for additions.  They appear in the order in which I remember them.

1. The Enigma
During Robert Lang’s time in Detroit, he caused me anguish.  Other times he brought me and my family great joy.  Robert Lang occasionally coasts, and spends time searching for the best pane of glass to best view the reflection of his flowing mullet.  Other times he is a strong-armed force with the puck.  I never knew what to expect from Robert Lang.  He is The Enigma.

2. Little Gary
Gary Bettman is a friend of David Stern’s.  Gary Bettman may, in fact, be his son. We have no confirmation he’s not.  Gary Bettman is not very popular amongst NHL fans, and most players.  Gary is small in stature, but powerful by position.  He is Little Gary and has been the genesis of a very popular phrase at A2Y.  When things go wrong, it’s always safe to point to Little Gary.  Horrible refereeing. Mind-numbing shootouts.  Skyrocketing gas prices.  The idiocy of a tv contract that makes me want to shove my head in a toilet and give myself a swirlie? Little Gary’s fault.  Our teeth-gritting dislike of this little punk of a man can be summed up in three words: Thanks Gary. Ass.

3. Deep Diggers
Abel to Yzerman was founded on the premise that the Wing beat writers suck, and suck it hard.  We have little faith in their abilities to ask the difficult question, search out the story below the surface, or even do their jobs on most days.  But we protect them, for they are ours. We blast them and complain about them, but rely on them for information.  It’s an awkward relationship we, the fans, have with this unusual group.  They, the Wing beat writers, are the Deep Diggers.  Contained within this group are Khan(!) of MLive.  He is the DD captain and the most gullible of the group. When Uncle Mike, or Tick Tock Kenny Holland speak, Khan(!) listens…and believes every word.  Helene St. James of the Detroit Free Press is no better.  A recent highlight?  “Chris Chelios will be fighting for the sixth defenseman position.”  Ted Kulfan, former Captain, and senior member of the Diggers.  Ted has never written a controversial word in his life.  It’s very possible that he’s never visited Joe Louis Arena, choosing instead to watch hightlights on NHL.tv—Thanks Gary. Ass—while sitting on his couch, flipping between re-runs of The OC and America’s Next Top Model.

4. The Anti-Digger
As bad as the Diggers are, that’s how good Bruce MacLeod is.  Where Helene, Khan(!) and Ted take collective pride in writing the exact same thing, every single day, MacLeod is outside the box, often opinionated, and consistently accurate.  Unfortunately, his cheap-ass employer refuses to send him on the road.  That causes us anguish, and may even lead to another glossary entry.  Wait for it.


5. The Summer of Ken
Kenny Holland was our wunderkind, our boy genius, our Theo Epstein…when money was no object.  But with the evil Cap came the realization that stocking our lineup would require a bit more than pizza revenue. Oh yes, for the Wings to remain competitive the organ-I-zation needed a man with the creative genius to flex his way around the obstacles presented by the CBA.  The summer of ‘06 would determine just how Ken Holland would stack up against his counterparts, and perhaps determine the future of the team.  Names floated in front of us, within our grasp, waiting to be plucked. Names like Luongo, Bertuzzi, Mitchell, Gerber and Chara.  Names like Witt, Dumont, Guerin, Weight, Lindros, even Barnaby.  Surely Kenny would bring us our grit, our scorer, our goalie.  When? Why, during the Summer of Ken, of course.

6. Bubba
One of my personal favorites.  A natural reference to the Nashville Predators.  I make fun of Bubba a lot here at A2Y.  Not the team, necessarily, but the idea of Bubba, that Bubba exists, that hockey is played in Nashville and that the league pretends placing a team there was a good idea.  When you read “Bubba”, it could refer to the fanbase, the roster or even the entire state of Tennessee.  It all fits.  I’ve always expected more angry reaction from Preds fans at the very creation of this glossary term. But, not surprisingly, there hasn’t been much.  I have a few ideas why.  (1) At the time this entry was created, I was the only person in Tennessee with internet access, (b) Bubba accepts Bubba for who Bubba is, or (iii) Bubba’s too wasted on warm Milwaukee’s Best to understand that I’m ripping them.

7. The Punch In The Face
Most likely the entry that put the A2Y glossary on the map.  Several years ago noted statesman and gifted public speaker Mike Tyson said this when asked about a potential victim’s strategy to defeat him:  “Everybody’s got a plan ‘til they get punched in the face.” Last Spring, the President Trophy winners had a plan to defeat the 8th-seeded Edmonton Oilers.  Unfortunately, that plan didn’t include stopping pucks, chasing pucks, placing pucks behind an overrated goalie or shooting pucks from areas on ice surfaces conducive to said pucks making contact with twine.  As a result of this failed plan, disaster struck.  That series loss will forever be known here at A2Y as, “The Punch In The Face.”

8. The Decision
Steve Yzerman was, simply, the finest leader in hockey, perhaps in hockey history. Certainly the longest-serving Captain, likely the greatest captain ever.  But it had to end sometime.  “When” was the question heading into the Summer of Ken.  Rumors flew.  Journalists predicted.  Hands were wrung.  He eventually did, of course…but weeks after he took those last steps off that Edmonton ice.  The determination Steve Yzerman made as to when the right time was to hang them up is known as “The Decision.”

9. Dive, ‘dique, Divealanche
Any and all apply. And, like Bubba, don’t be so narrow-focused as to believe any of these terms refer soley to the Denver roster.  No, no.  My scorn is not reserved specifically for the on-ice product.  Much more is directed at the organization that retired a player’s number after less than two years of service there, or the team that refuses to honor its Quebec heritage.  My ire is pointed squarely at the fan base that is the very epitome of bandwagonism, the skank behind the Wing bench in ‘96 who plastered her crayon-crafted sign against the glass every time Steve Yzerman came back to the bench, a sign that said, “1955 Chokers.”

The rivalry may be dead, but there will always be a cold place in my heart for the Dive.

10. The SoGay
You know, someone more mature or sensitive than I wouldn’t stoop so low as to include this in the glossary.  Certainly, I run the risk of alienating a segment of hockey fans and an entire team’s fan base.  But, I’m neither mature nor sensitive so stay it does.  This entry used to be simply The Gay, back when Bubba played in the The Gaylord Entertainment Center. But times, they changed in Nashville, and the arena is now called the Sommet Center (pronounced “so may”...‘cuz you know the French have a huge influence in Nashville).  So, the natural evolution of this entry resulted in, The SoGay. A classic introduced by A2Y reader, Chris from Tennessee. 

11. The Implosion
As the Wings were in the midst of a seven-game winning streak in November ‘06, St. Louis radio guru Andy Strickland wrote (on Dwayne Klessel’s site) that the Wings were in a state of revolt, that Nick Lidstrom was lighting the torches in preparation for a full-scale coup and that the tension in the room over Mike Babcock’s coaching style would result in an “implosion by Christmas.” Never happened, of course.  Speaking of Lidstrom, dumbass Strickland was at it again in February of ‘08 when he said a slight tear to the captain’s MCL would keep him out “two months or more.”  Naturally, this also appeared on Klessel’s Emporium of BS and Wedding Singer Trivia, and it was attributed to no one but little Andy’s imaginary sources. Wrong again.  Lidstrom returned in three weeks.

12. The Delicate Genius
There was a time, long ago, when the idea of reading a Mitch Albom column brought with it a sense of anticipation.  You just knew his stuff would be that good.  Back in ‘87 he made a point of traveling with Jacques Demers, every day, to the rink during the playoffs.  He wrote with true sorrow about the playoff loss to Edmonton after the “Goose Loonies” incident.  He was a Wing fan’s columnist.  But over the years, Mitch found other interests…radio, tv, fiction (both in the papers and out) and the Wings fell by the wayside.  Oh, Mitch shows up at the Joe now and then.  When?  October and April.  No time for Detroit hockey during the regular season.  Nope. Mitch is all about the beginning and the end.  Unfortunately, like so many mediocre writers, he’s forgotten the middle.  But when the time comes to rip the Wings, with very little knowledge of the team or organization….there he is, The Delicate Genius.

13. Balboa’s Little Sister
Paul Kariya is not the toughest member of his family. Sure, he’s a hockey player. But his sister can kick his ass.  Seriously.  Noriko Kariya is a boxer and, by all accounts, a good one.  I don’t have a sister, but if I did I think she could kick Paul’s ass too. He is Balboa’s Little Sister.

14. Stillwoozi
Todd Bertuzzi’s back hurt, then his head, then his back again.  He played on when he could, but he was never quite right, always 75 percent or less…to the point that he missed the pivotal final ten minutes of the The Kick To The Groin and the OT.  We never saw what a healthy Stillwoozi could do in ‘07.

15. The Czech Miracle of Insanity
Dominik Hasek is insane. I’d call him sociopathic if I really knew what that meant.  Kind of an easy term to toss around, and it’s fun to say.  Challenging for a child so feel free to use it as a Phonics learning tool.  Give me full credit please.  Anyway, Hasek’s a crazy bastard and he played out of his foggy mind in the ‘07 playoffs. He returned in ‘08 and prompted a grass-roots attempt on my part to ignite a goalie controversy that never happened.  I’ll never forgive him for not going absolutly batshit nuts in the media.  Still, he is our Czech Miracle of Insanity….“The Miracle” for short.

16. Unassigned.

17. The Kick To the Groin
Nothing really says “A2Y Glossary Entry” like a gut-wrecking playoff loss.  I’ll never back down from my statement that the playoffs suck so frigging badly that I swear to God I feel like giving up the game forever because they just suck and if you’re a Wing fan who’s lived through the past five years and don’t agree with me than you’re stupider than Chris Pronger on a good day.  But the playoffs do give us good stuff.  Game 5 against Anaheim, the tying goal that floated through the air like a piece of dog crap I flung back into my neighbor’s front yard because the bastard keeps letting his little microwavable dog have free run, the Lilja mistake, the crushing, damning, devastating loss that was The Kick To The Groin.  Not the whole series, just game Five.  A boot, swung forward at a rapid pace, making direct contact and inflicting pain that is so severe it will never be forgotten.

18.  Monty Babcock’s Flying Circus  The A2Y readers voted in the Fall of 2007 to name the line of Datsyuk, Zetterberg and Holmstrom.  By a wide margin, the Circus stuck and definitely applies.  Don’t know if Uncle Mike will keep the Circus together, but as long as he does they have a name.  And that’s just nifty.

19.  Unassigned

20.  Babblecock I think this may be the first reader-induced entry.  Not that I’m opposed, but you bastards haven’t impressed me enough to make it happen consistently.  Except for Gramps.  Grampa Pinhead, one of the original A2Y readers and commenters, came up with this around the time we started the Mike Babcock Consolidated Quote of the Day (MBCQOTD).  Babcock, while universally popular with Wing fans—except for maybe Gramps—has issues with English.  Is he stupid? No.  I truly believe he’s quoted verbatim, just like the Russians and Swedes.  Some diggers, in other towns, give the players and coache the occasional break, clean up the grammar a bit.  Not for Uncle Mike. It’s raw, unedited, often hilarious…idiocy.  It’s Babblecock, also referred to by A2Y reader Baroque as “the Yoda Syntax.”  Unfortunately, “syntax” is an awfully complicated word for the A2Y 19, so we just chuckle when she says it and pretend we know what she’s talking about.


21. Charlie Buckets  This entry on 6 February really explains the Buckets phenonenon.

Dan Cleary, the boy with the golden ticket.  Wandering the streets of dreary whatevertownBucketsgrewupin, not wanting to go home because Grampa Joe wasn’t getting out of bed and yet another dinner of disgusting thick tasteless soup awaited him.  A sparkle in the gutter, a silver dollar.  That money could feed his family for a week!  Oh, the turmoil.  Tasty Wonka chocolate and a chance at a trip every child in the world was hoping for, or food on the Bucket table.  Screw it.  Grabbed it. Bought the bar. Ripped it open. Golden Ticket. Hell yes.

That’s Dan Cleary. The Wings gave him his golden ticket and he’s been a revelation ever since. 

22. The Ass Can  The Dive play in the Pepsi Center.  Dive fans fill it sometimes.  They call it, “The Can.”  Dive fans, like Darren Garcia, seem to have an affinity for, send the children away, taking it in the can.  The Pepsi Center is The Ass Can.

23. The Stress Train.  This is a biggie.  Are you on, or are you off?  How’s your confidence level?  Me? I’m on.  Every frigging day, all year long.  Injuries put me on the Train.  Discord, angst, controversy put me on the Train.  Readers claiming they’re smarter than me puts me on the Train.  It’s all about worrying about the Wings and their playoff chances.  The Stress Train is more than just a glossary entry. It’s a community frame of mind, it’s the comfort in knowing that you’re not the only one curled up in the fetal position, sucking your thumb, rocking back, humming the song Chevy Van to yourself while your family huddles nearby frightened at what you’ve become.  The regular season often sees riders jump on and off.  The playoffs?  Everyone’s onboard, and there will be no exceptions. 

24. The Swedish Meatball of Confusion.  Never before has a reader been responsible for two glossary entries.  It’s unprecedented (which I already said when I told you never before has a reader been responsible for two glossary entries. We like to be redundant here at A2Y, again and again).  But Chris, in Bubba’s backyard, invented this.  As of 9 March 2008, I’d yet to include it in a post, but I will.  It belongs to Andres Lilja, the man who took over for the Enigma as the community punching bag.  Lilja will toss a puck into the crowd, he’ll toss a puck to Selanne. He’ll take terrible penalties and he’ll skate at the speed of my fatass dog getting off the couch, which is really slow.  Andres does have his good points: he’ll block a shot now and again, but man…he’s mostly just a Schmuck (SMOK: Swedish Meatball of Confusion). 


IwoNote: AndrewfromAnnarbor attempted to introduce the term, “William Tell”, as

Lilja’s

Samuelsson’s nickname. But it never took off. Andrew pouted about that for a few days.  It made us sad, but he’s ok.

25. The Poultry.  Figure it out geniuses.  We don’t like Duck in these parts.  Has the hatred reached a Dive-like level? Nah. Not yet. But one more playoff series ought to do it.

26. Sasquatch.  Claude Lemieux was hated in Detroit. I mean frigging despised.  Had current events dictated it back in 1996, he may have earned the moniker Osama Bin Turtle.  But, the stars didn’t align for that one.  Now, the player that causes the blood pressure of the 19 to collectively rise the quickest is Chris Pronger.  He’s really dumb, really dirty and really just a community turd who’s hated equally in Edmonton and Detroit.  He is Sasquatch, incapable of coherent thought or spoken word. 

27. Transplants.  A new vocabulary item referring to those of us who have left the state of Michigan but maintained our allegiances to our native state’s teams.  Sobbing Dive Apologist Teri Frei decided Wing fans who dare visit the Ass Can should sit there and STFU.  Teri feels it’s bad form to rub the Wing dominance of the Dive in the faces of Denver residents who don’t know icing from a fair catch.  The term he used to refer to us is Transplants.  We like it.

28. Oompa Loompa.  Yes, a second Wonka reference.  I’m a Wonka fan.  I like the chocolate and I like the story.  Oompa-loompa doopity doo, I have another streaky Wing forward for you. Short, stubby even, offensively gifted, but frustratingly inconsistent…Jiri Hudler is the Oompa Loompa.

29. Gary’s Baby Boy.  Good god, the first entry from the Wings’ 2008 Stanley Cup Final appearance.  I’ve never met Sidney Crosby’s parents, so I feel comfortable saying that Gary Bettman is his daddy.  Gary conceived of his Baby Boy, weened him, brought him along, watches over him and rubs his tummy.  Little Gary’s success is tied, in his own pea brain, directly to how many Cups his Baby Boy can win.  Is the GBB a talented fella? Oh, most certainly.  Can Little Gary really dictate his success against a frigging MACHINE like the Wings? Not really.  But there can be no doubt, none, that if Gary has the ear of sweet little baby Jesus, the Baby Boy is going to be hoisting something in early June.

30. The 19.  Perhaps no blog in the history of hockey blogs has ever had such a consistently low number of readers.  And the stat never changes.  At any one time there are 19 readers logged on…reading.  There are never more than 19 comments to any post. And if there are? Never more than 19 people made those comments. And there are never more than 19 coherent thoughts in any one string of messages.  Every word of this blog is written with them in mind, the 19 readers.  Most of the jokes are understood only by them.  The bitching, the bragging, the bullshit…all of it was inspired by them and truly comprehended only by “The 19.”  If you’ve made it this far into this glossary, there’s a good chance you’re reading about yourself right now.

31. The Jackatoreum. Words cannot possibly describe how much I wish I’d made this one up.  But I didn’t, and it hurts so very badly.

Anybody else sick of the “NHL CenterIce” commercial with the Pens fan in his hand-built jackatoreum?

Posted by calquake on 01/14/09 at 11:52 PM ET

image

Apparently, and I’ll have to look at the commercial one more time to be sure, this shot didn’t make the final cut.

image


Thank A2Y19 Cwix for the brilliance.

Some of the phrases you see in this glossary will fade. Their relevance will diminish over the years.  It is my pledge to you that Jackatoreum will never meet that fate.  It will outlast us all. It must.

32. Tick Tock.  Kenny Holland is always on the clock.  Just days after the Wings regained that which is theirs, their 11th Stanley Cup, the demands began anew.  What have you done for us lately Ken?  Well? Hossa? Good job.  Next.  Good job. Next.  Good job….next bitch. Always next with Kenny.  The second hand never stops moving.  Tick. Tock.

33. Uncle Mike.  He lies to us consistently. He babbles and he sputters.  He plays games through the media and the Diggers spew his words back at us in a form that few comprehend.  He’s a genius, an insidious puppeteer.  He is Mike Babcock and he’s our Uncle.  And as of 1 January 2009, he’s also a pimp.

image

34. The Douche Canoe.  This one started out very innocently, a minor whine on my part that perhaps a certain broadcaster wasn’t giving the Wings their just due.  I don’t like it when just due is withheld from anyone, especially the Wings—some would say they’re deserving of double the due due to their dynasty, depending on your dedication to Detroit.  Anyway, back in March 2008 we posted a little ditty pointing out McQuire’s contention that the Wings weren’t equipped to go far in the postseason.  It wasn’t until the comments started pouring in that I realized just how popular McQuire had become in the eyes of the 19.  Check it out:

McGuire = Broadcastings Biggest Douchebag

Posted by jeffreyonfire from Edmonton, AB on 03/31/08 at 04:33 PM ET
——-
Pierre McNugget is a turd fondler….he’ just anothe MSM mouthpiece who likes to spew garbage and ride the carousel of stupidity and un-originality.

Posted by yreland from Kalamazoo on 03/31/08 at 04:57 PM ET
——-
pierre mcguire’s dying wish…to be the meat in a crosby - phaneuf sandwich.

Posted by chad on 03/31/08 at 07:14 PM ET

All of great quality.  And personally? I think “turd fondler” would have stuck, so to speak.  I’m convinced that if not for a certain reader, that one would have had legs.  But the course of history was changed with a few short words from WingsfaninDenver.

Pierre McGuire is a douche-canoe. And let it not be said that I’m jumping on the bandwagon. I’ve kicked him long before he came up in this post, and I’ll continue to kick him until he disappears from my TV. 

I do have to thank him for one thing though. He’s brought my family together to form a unified front of bile and hatred. Not one of us can stand the sight or sound of him.

Posted by wingsfanindenver on 03/31/08 at 06:32 PM ET

Oh, the simplicity.  Douche Canoe.  Inspiring, wholesome, physically accurate.  Amazing.  No phrase in our glossary had the immediate impact or the staying power.

35.  Little Brother. It is the division that used to suck, the “division that Gary built”, loaded with expansion teams, bitter losing bitches from St. Lose and a Chicago franchise that had been run into the ground by heat miser of an owner.  It was the Wings and everyone else.  Our cheddar was, and is, the Central.  Detroit and four little scavengers looking for table scraps in the form of 7 or 8 seeds.  Every single other team in this division that is now hockey’s powerhouse falls under the umbrella of our “Little Brother.”  They are paranoid and they are so insanely jealous of Detroit that it affects every move, every scheme, every trade or coaching change.  They speak about “respecting Detroit too much”, and they sob about puck control and the Wing Way. They try to emulate and their fans writhe and churn.  They, Columbus and Nashville, St. Louis and Chicago, are our little brothers.  Striving. Reaching. Inching closer and waiting for the pat on the head that never comes.  All they get is a slap. A bitch-slap, if you will.  Detroit is the hump they’ll never get over, the big brother that Mommy consistently favors.  Little Brother…always in the shadow, so dark that the glow of a rented Cup can’t even lighten it. 

36. The Serial Killer. He is the first Wing with two separate glossary entries, and it makes sense that Todd Bertuzzi is given that honor. He’s earned it. He is hated.  Oh dear god is he hated.  In Denver, where Steve Moore is remembered as a savior and a saint, a choir boy with hands of silk and skates of gold…instead of the fourth-line goon he actually was…Bertuzzi is despised by all five hockey fans remaining in that shithole of a never-has-been hockey city.  And let’s be honest, it took a while for Saddam to become the favorite he is to us now.  Make no mistake about it, though, this sociopathic toothless menace wasn’t immediately embraced in Hockeytown.  It took two stints here and a genius coach who transformed him from a timid ex-con afraid of his shadow into the sick bastard he’s once again become.  Son of Sam has been re-born in Detroit with a mean streak and a miraculous sense of defensive responsibility.  He will wreck your village. He’ll burn it and seek out the virgins.  He’ll sneak porn into hymnals and wash his hair with the urine of your pets.  And then he’ll backcheck because Uncle Mike tells him to.  He is Todd Bertuzzi and he’s ours.  A friggin Serial Killer in red and white.
———————

There are certain phrases that don’t strictly qualify as “glossary entries”, but are common enough to merit inclusion here.  One such phrase was first introduced in February of 2008 and garnered a strong reaction from the 19.  That made me warm because it includes a word that has been a favorite of mine since I was 6 years old, and that word would be “motherf***er.”  In our everyday language, this term is used in the following manner: When describing a character trait others may find offensive and you require an explanation for your actions or words, you simply say this:

“Because that, motherf***ers, is how I roll.”
  Simple…but I do love it so.

Another favorite of mine centers around a very humorous social shift.  It is now acceptable for one man to call another “a bitch.”  I find that hilarious in all settings.  Very few things, aside from maybe reading of a Cory Perry injury that will sideline him for six to eight weeks, make me laugh harder than that.  I bring that up because back in November and December of ‘07 I had taken to closing post after post after post with this phrase, “Chris Osgood’s your starter.” It was creative, no?  Whatever.  Dominik Hasek was less than pleased. Finally, following a game against the Wild, this is how I imagined his reaction.

And it’s true.  With a shutout just moments away and the memory of watching Chris Osgood start seven consecutive games still very fresh in his cluttered mind, our Czech Miracle of Insanity returned to his sociopathic self and gave us a wakeup call.  I’m almost shocked he didn’t point at the cameras after his takedown of Gaborik and say…

...“I’m your starter bitches.” Yeah Dom, you are.  And I’ve been proven wrong.  Again.