The right way

On this day in 1961, the Museum of Modern Art in New York put Henri Matisse’s paper-cut, “Le Bateau” on display. For more than six weeks, countless art lovers, critics, connoisseurs, and collectors marvelled, critiqued, interpreted, and speculated the piece until Genevieve Habert, a stockbroker, noticed a problem.

What all those people in the art community—and supposedly in-the-know—failed to realize, while they talked amongst themselves, was that the work had been hung upside down.

Don’t always listen to the “experts.” Especially a group or community of “experts.” They’re usually more of a social club.

Not knowing where you are doesn’t have to mean you’re lost.

He didn't know where he was, but he found something bigger than he thought.

A day on the couch is a day on the laptop. A day in my mind. A scary, challenging, exciting day. I’ve got all day… no time at all. No time for self-pity, no time to lay around in the darkness. No time to eat away at the daylight doing nothing. Let’s see what happens… if anything.

The film, which features interviews with musical powerhouses from several genres, including Flea, Gwen Stefani, Ice-T, and George Clinton. It is no wonder the band has had such a major impact on so many artists from so many fields. The sound of Fishbone is as genre defying as any band’s. Their eclectic mix of ska, punk, funk, reggae, hardcore, etc, etc. is the result of the fiercely individual attitudes of the two band leaders – Angelo Moore, sometimes known as Dr. Madd Vibe, with his tattooed flaming mohawk, giant ironic smile, wailing lyrics, screaming saxophone, and a theremin that he somehow fits into the frantic melange of strings and winds; and Norwood Fisher, the bearded, dreadlocked bassist/vocalist with the raspy voice to match 30 years of a touring punk rocker.

Ma and Pa

Formed during a time of economic and racial tension in America, and California, especially, Fishbone wanted to stand out, a desire that would come easily. Being the only black ska band at the time, they stood out based on their colour. But their music stood out as well. The wide range of music that Fishbone covers is a testament to their diverse fanbase. Their music is neither black nor white. It is neither punk nor funk. Quite simply, it is Fishbone. There was no desire to rally one particular community. No desire to fit a certain mould. Only the desire to make their own music and to be known as distinct musicians.

By bringing the funk to punk, Fishbone were unlike anything before or since. By being the first, they were able to develop their own sound, one which has been impossible to pin down from day one. Imitators have come and gone, ska has been taken in every conceivable direction and watered down by labels and milquetoast musicians. Fishbone, however, have stayed the same despite a constantly evolving sound, rotating stable of band members, legal troubles (in which Fisher was charged with kidnapping fellow band member, Kendall Jones), successes and failures. Whether an old fan or a newcomer to Fishbone, their music is well worth checking out, and the documentary a must-see.

Jarome Iginla flashes his trademark smile after scoring his 30th goal of the season.

The greatest player in Calgary Flames’ history sealed his invitation to the Hockey Hall of Fame on Sunday night, and proved himself, once again as one of the greatest hockey players of all-time. By scoring on a penalty shot, Jarome Iginla became only the 10th player in NHL history to score 30 goals in 10 consecutive seasons. Just look at the list of names that Iginla joins: Mike Gartner, Jaromir Jagr, Phil Esposito, Wayne Gretzky, Bobby Hull, Marcel Dionne, Mike Bossy, Jari Kurri, and Darryl Sittler. Every one of these players is already a member of the Hall of Fame, save for Jagr, who will certainly be inducted when he becomes eligible after his retirement from playing in Europe. Reaching the milestone is an even more amazing achievement for Iginla when considering some of the variables involved.

This is not to say that Iginla is greater than any of the greats on this list, but he is definitely well deserving of inclusion among them. Most of Iginla’s career took place during the “trap era” when goal scoring was at a premium, and all of it has been played against bigger goaltenders with bigger, lighter equipment and more effective style. Hull, Esposito, and Sittler scored their goals against goalies with no masks, little padding, and stand-up style. Dionne, Bossy, Gretzky, Kurri, and Gartner did it largely or entirely during the 70s and 80s when goalies still hadn’t gone to the butterfly style and big, lightweight equipment. Beginning with Esposito in 1970, league leaders routinely reached 60 to 70 goals, and these numbers ballooned in the 1980s, when Gretzky and company were putting up numbers in the 80s and 90s. Goalies were small, there was more net to shoot at, and pucks hurt them. In Iginla’s era, big goalies fill the net, they cover it by dropping to their knees in butterfly formation, and their equipment allows them to block shots with much less pain and much more speed. Scoring goals between the late 1990s and the lockout of 2005 was more difficult than in decades past, but Iginla routinely put up impressive numbers.

Another obstacle Iginla has overcome in joining such elite company is the fact that he has had little help throughout his career. Kurri and Gretzky had Gretzky and Kurri, along with the rest of the superstars in Edmonton and Luc Robitaille in Los Angeles. Jagr had Mario Lemieux and Ron Francis. Hull had Stan Mikita. Sittler had Lanny McDonald and Borje Salming. Esposito had Bobby Orr and Rod Gilbert. Every one of these players is a Hall of Famer. Iginla has single-handedly carried the Flames’ offense on his back for most of his career. Early on, he had Theo Fleury, but never scored 30 goals playing with the little spark plug. His best set-up men have been Craig Conroy, Daymond Langkow, and Alex Tanguay – good players, but far from great players. Much of his career was also spent wallowing on terrible teams that didn’t make the playoffs for 8 straight years. Iginla’s list of teammates is easily the worst among the 10 players to enjoy a decade of 30 goal seasons.

Iginla is easily the toughest player on the list.

Of course, Iggy has enjoyed some advantages over his peers, as well. The sticks that he uses are lightweight, flexible, and technologically advanced when compared to the tree trunks Bobby Hull used to blast pucks by goalies. He has enjoyed life after the lockout when clutching and grabbing have been drastically reduced in order to increase goal scoring, while Gretzky had to score with defencemen water skiing off of his ass. Fitness has been Iginla’s greatest asset, whereas Esposito would come to the rink with a stogie between his teeth after enjoying a steak dinner and a few beers. He has enjoyed a relatively injury-free career compared to Bossy, who only played 10 seasons, scoring more than 50 goals in 9 of them before being forced into early retirement.

Each of the 9 players to make the list before Jarome Iginla is a legend of hockey, and well deserving of his spot in the Hall of Fame. Some, like Esposito, Hull, and Gretzky are well known as some of the greatest of all-time. Others, like Gartner and Dionne remain underrated to this day, despite their incredible careers. Iginla is widely recognized as one of the greats of his generation, but has also flown under the radar for much of his career, given his stats. He has never won a Hart trophy (finishing 2nd after a controversial tie in voting in 2002) and he has never won a Stanley Cup (a controversial 7 game loss in 2004), two major awards that many equate with hockey greatness. He has, however, been among the most productive players in the NHL since 2000 and has proven himself one of the best leaders in hockey. By joining the short list of players to score 30 goals for 10 straight seasons, Jarome Iginla has solidified his spot among the greatest players in hockey history.

Another miss for FIFA President Sepp Blatter.

One thing is clear. Sepp Blatter, FIFA, and most soccer fans fear change. Proposing a rule change in soccer is like taking away a Republican’s right to bear arms – it is met with fanatical indignity and resistance. The Laws of the Game are to soccer people as the Constitution is to Republicans. “How can something that is perfect, flawless in every way, be changed?” they snort. The rules, penned more than 100 years ago, are held in sacred light. They are as holy as the bible, and equally outdated.

Last summer, England’s Frank Lampard unleashed a lightning bolt against Germany that flashed over the outstretched fingertips of the goalkeeper, thundered off the crossbar, and bounced down onto the pitch. It did not bounce quite straight down, but on a slight angle, crossing the goal line for a 38th minute equalizer. Watching a 28″ TV from a distance of about 15 feet, I saw it go in. I reacted as many England fans did, first, by cheering, and then by standing there, arms out, jaw dropped, eyes dazed. “What just happened?” I wondered aloud, perhaps more colourfully at the time. Then, when it hit me, I hung my head, realizing that the dinosaurs in charge of soccer had asked for this to happen. The endlessly inept referees had missed it, and there was no backup plan to compensate for the distinct possibility of human error affecting the outcome of a World Cup match. Even after Geoff Hurst’s nearly identical World Cup winning goal in 1966, in which the call controversially went the other way, there was still no backup plan. Even after Maradona’s Hand of God in 1986, there was still no backup plan. Even after the Thierry Henry handball debacle months before South Africa, there was still no backup plan. Now, on the biggest stage, FIFA had egg on it’s face, and England had a 2-1 deficit, which soon became World Cup defeat.

Video replay has been around since the 1950s, when Hockey Night in Canada first used it in a broadcast. In recent decades, the technology has been widely used by professional sports organizations to confirm the validity of decisions made by officials during the course of play. It seems as though every major sports organization in the world uses it to ensure the integrity of the game. Every major organization except for the all-knowing FIFA, that is. How can it be that FIFA has never implemented video review? Here’s how.

Blatter experimenting with audio review. You can clearly hear the ball crossing the line.

In 2005, FIFA’s general secretary, Urs Linsi said, “Players, coaches and referees all make mistakes… What you see after the fact on video simply doesn’t come into it… Video evidence is useful for disciplinary sanctions, but that’s all. As we’ve always emphasised at FIFA, football’s human element must be retained. It mirrors life itself and we have to protect it.” Sepp Blatter, himself, the president of FIFA once said that mistakes made by referees are part of the ”fascination and popularity of football.” After reading these comments I was, once again, left standing slack-jawed and dejected. It is true that players, coaches, and referees all make mistakes. This is an intrinsic truth to sports. As fans, we watch to see players battle each other into making mistakes. We do not watch to see referees blow a call. All true sports fans want to see their team win fair and square. When a game is decided by a referee’s poor decision, the integrity of the game is compromised, and no true fan wants to see that.

It seems that finally, after the Lampard controversy, FIFA is revisiting the possibility of implementing some sort of backup plan. This is hardly comforting, given the language used. “Possibility,” “some sort.” The headlines read the we “might” see goal line technology in Brazil 2014. There is no guarantee, however, because, as Blatter says, “the tests we have had so far are not conclusive.” So, why not implement video review? They have agreed to position two additional referees on each goal line, which is a step in the right direction about 100 years late, but still, why not video review?

A silver lining from this week's International Football Association Board's AGM is that they came to a decision to outlaw the wearing of snoods to keep warm because players could potentially hang themselves from the crossbar. Bravo, soccer bureaucrats. Bravo.

Video review is proven to work in most cases. There is still an element of human error involved, which has bit me in the ass twice. In 2004, when the Calgary Flames were denied the potential Stanley Cup winning goal, and in 2002 when the Oakland Raiders were eliminated from the NFL playoffs by a blown video review on the “tuck rule.” There is also the example of Brett Hull’s Stanley Cup winning goal in overtime in 1999. These are some of the few examples of video review failures. In most cases, video evidence gives a clear picture, the right call is eventually made, and the game continues on the way it should. It is proven to work in ice hockey, football, basketball, baseball, rugby, tennis, cricket, field hockey, auto racing, and even bull riding! Come on, soccer!

If FIFA continues to refuse to protect the integrity of it’s sport from terrible haircuts and sickening fakers, then it should at least protect it from the constant threat of blown calls. The technology is there. It has been there for decades. It is time to use it.

Still got it

As overtime entered the final minute, from where I sat, perched in the 12th of 19 rows in the nose bleeds, you could hear a ruckus from the Anaheim Ducks’ bench. There were five Calgary Flames on the ice, and the entire Ducks team was calling a too-many-men penalty. At first I thought, “whew! We got lucky there.”  But, as the play continued and the seconds ticked away, I couldn’t take my eyes off the bench, and I couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy. Teemu Selanne, the 40-year-old Finnish Flash, a guy who has played 18 seasons in the NHL, a guy who won the Stanley Cup in 2007, a guy who has seen it all, was still standing, leaning over the boards, towel waving in his hand instead of wiping his visor clean, screaming at the linesman, I’m sure to open his eyes, learn to count, get in the game. Selanne, of course, had only a few minutes earlier, scored the 622nd goal of his incredible career to send this game to overtime. He had already set up two goals by fellow over the hill Fin, Saku Koivu.  With about 30 seconds to play, Selanne came over the boards and I said to my girlfriend, as she posted pictures of us on Facebook, “I got  bad feeling about this. Selanne’s pissed, and when a guy like that gets pissed, he usually scores.” Well, it’s not clairvoyance (he didn’t score), but more a sense of when a great player is about t show you what makes him great. He didn’t score, but he stepped on the ice, grabbed the puck in his own corner, passed it off to Koivu, who then moved it to rookie, Cam Fowler, who proceeded to roof a backhand over Miikka Kiprusoff for the game winner, with the greatest Finnish player of all-time right beside him. The assist was Selanne’s fourth point of the night, and Anaheim won 5-4.

It is always a treat to watch the game’s greatest players come through town. I’ve seen Selanne many times before. Years ago, I waited outside the team hotel to get his autograph. He has always been fun to watch, and he’s always been a class act. At 40, most players are long retired. The ones who do last, are usually nearing the end, slowing down, fading away. Last night, Teemu Selanne was, far and away, the best player on the ice. He has not lost a step. At one point in the offensive zone, he made a quick turn, and exploded with two strides into the slot, leaving the Flames’ defender spinning his tires. He has not lost the vision, setting up three goals. He has not lost the ability, as he snuck in tight between three Flames and still managed to be wide open, shelfing the tying goal from in close with just over two minutes left. In overtime, he put his entire bag of tricks on display – speed, skill, vision, and of course, his unswerving passion and desire to win. As the Flames broke in on a 2-on-1 with two minutes to go in the extra frame, Jarome Iginla fed a tap-in over to Steve Staios for the sure game winner. Who was it that came flying back, sprawled out on his stomach at full speed, reaching for every inch he could find, knocking the puck just enough to make Staios miss, and crashing into the end boards? None other than the oldest guy on the ice. Then, of course, he went back to the bench, caught his breath, and started the play that ended the game.

He could have retired in 2007 on a high, but he's still got the passion.

This was my most memorable Teemu Selanne display. Throughout his career, he has given hockey fans so many great memories. Nothing can dethrone the greatest Selanne moment from any fan’s mind – shooting his glove in celebration as he broke Mike Bossy’s rookie goal scoring record way back in 1993. That season was the greatest offensive display in history by a rookie. He ended up with 76 goals that year, which until a decade earlier, had been the all-time record for goals in a season by anyone. The goal celebration still stands as the greatest ever, and may never be beaten. It was original, passionate, and the timing could not have been more perfect. Back then, he was 22, and in the prime of his life. Last night, he was 40. Over the hill, way past his prime. He has fought through some serious injuries in his career – a reconstructed knee, a broken jaw, and a broken hand, to name a few. He has accomplished everything any hockey player ever dreams of. He is a sure first-ballot Hall of Famer. Yet, he still has as much passion for the game as he did in 1992.

The game last night was huge for both teams. A regulation time win by the flames would have given them two points over a team they are fighting for a playoff spot. They were 2:07 from claiming that victory. That was until a guy with more than 1,300 NHL points managed to quietly take over the game and give his team the much needed two points. It was a devastating loss for my team, but I went home with a smile on my face, a memory that should last a lifetime, and a reminder of what makes the great ones great.

Privacy. I drove into town at 5 pm, and was treated to a post-work day traffic jam. A city of 1.3 million might seem a little crowded when compared to complete wilderness, but it’s actually been nice to get some breathing room. Remember, I was sharing a tiny shack with three other guys the entire time. At last, I’ve got enough space and privacy to take a deep breath and just be. A job like that one truly makes a person see the value of privacy.

Silence. Sure, this apartment has paper thin walls and loud neighbours. Sure, the guy upstairs screams and moans all night (sleep apnea? Withdrawals? Psychosis? Who knows?) My first night back in town, I was even treated to a domestic disturbance involving four cops right outside the door in the middle of the night. Sure, there’s the constant din of traffic and city life outside. But for the first time in a month, I can’t hear everyone else’s phone conversations clear as day. The buzz of the urban soundscape is nothing compared to the roar of the rig motors, the squeal of the brake handle, or the unending hum of the generators. I can hear birds singing this morning. That’s close enough to silence for me.

Flavour. Eating at rig camp has it’s perks. It’s got my three favourite ingredients; hot, ready, and free (debatable, actually, since I give up $75 a day tax free in subsistence on camp jobs. If you’re counting, that’s $2,250 I missed out on, but I digress). The problem is, the food all begins to taste the same after a while. The ladies in charge of cooking are very nice. They all have grown children, so they make a quality home-cooked meal. However, after a month of slaving away in the kitchen to feed some 20 surrogate sons, I suspect their hearts aren’t in it. The most important ingredient in a home-cooked meal is TLC. So, upon arrival into town, last night, I took the girlfriend, and headed straight to Rajdoot for some fine Indian cuisine. What a difference!

Sleep. Extended night shifts on a noisy oil rig are never very relaxing. The bed is like plywood. The body’s natural clock, circadian rhythm, gets all out of whack. The day light shines in through all attempts to black out the room. Ear plugs fall out of ears. Duty calls and interrupts sleep. To spend last night sleeping in a nice soft bed was an indescribably nice change.

Companionship. A month with a bunch of dudes who really couldn’t care less about you is fun and all, but spending time with people who love you is the greatest thing a person can do. Not that the guys were hard to get along with, or bad people, but they’re workmates. They’re away from the ones they love, too. When the job is over, you’ll never see or think about most of them again. All I could think about was my family, friends, loved ones. The excitement of a reunion with my gorgeous girlfriend kept me awake through dinner, and a while after for drinks, despite adjusting back from a month long night shift (or was it the coffee, Coke, and energy drink?). To be with someone who truly appreciates you being there is a nice change.

Freedom. Out there, when you get cabin fever (which doesn’t take long), your options are few. You can drive about 85 km into the nearest one-horse town and watch a stray dog chase a tumble weed across the street. You can go hang out on the couch at camp. You can walk around the rig site, looking at rig stuff. You can pace back and forth in front of your shack like a caged animal. I generally chose to escape within, by reading and writing. Tonight, I’ll be walking through downtown Calgary from 17th Ave. to the Saddledome to watch the Flames from my very own season seats, which I’ve only used a handful of times this season. I’ll be wearing my brand new Heritage Classic jersey, a belated birthday present from my girlfriend. My movements will be unrestricted. I’ll be drinking beer, something I couldn’t do for a month on the rig. I’ll be eating a pulled pork sandwich, drenched in bbq sauce. I’ll be meeting friends after the game. We’ll go out to the pub or the bar and have fun, because we’re free. That’s what I miss the most when I’m on the road for long periods – the freedom to do what I want once in a while. This city has everything I need to feel free. Hopefully, I can stay a while.

I’ll get back onto the political stuff when I’m back into a rhythm.