Recently in sports Category

One of the crazier first rounds in recent NHL playoff history concluded last night, or early Friday morning for those on the East coast waiting for the last game of the first round to end. In double overtime. Inside of the first five minutes of said second overtime session. Thank you, Adam Henrique.

A full one-third of all games played in the first round (16 of 48) went to overtime, setting a modern NHL record since the playoffs expanded to 16 teams with four rounds of best of seven. And of those 16 games, 12 ended inside the first five minutes of the extra session, including all three games that went to double OT. So that puts my theory at a cool 75%. With seven series left to play, there is a maximum of 49 games left in this year's playoffs so it's looking favorable for this year to put a tick mark in the yes column.

Other craziness?

• The last four Cup winners all lost in round one: Boston, Chicago, Pittsburgh, Detroit.
  
• The first five games of the Phoenix-Chicago series went into OT, first time that happened in 50 years.
  
• And the President's Cup winner (regular season best record) Vancouver was ousted by 8th seed LA, in five games no less. Oh wait, no surprise there.
  
• Historic NHL franchises with deep playoff experience (*snort*) like Phoenix, Nashville, St. Louis, and Washington advanced.
  

Don't ask me to pick the Cup winner, my heart will overrule my head.

It's been all of two nights but the craziness of the Stanley Cup Playoffs is already in full swing. Time to dust off the as-yet unpatented Tim F. Unofficial Playoff Overtime Theory. In brief, I submit that the majority of overtime playoff games end in the first or final five minutes of the 20-minute extra session(s). Last year, the hypothesis fell as flat Roberto Luongo in the Finals. (Hey, any chance to get in a Canucks dig, I'll take it.)

With four OT games of the first seven played across the eight conference quarterfinals, three fit like a glove (save). No resting on my 75% correct laurels though, there are miles to go before I sleep and months before the Cup is hoisted. Preferably by Zach Parise.

My beloved Devils are in the last series to open play owing to scheduling conflicts in the Florida Panthers home arena but the Devs begin their march tonight. Since winning the Cup in 2003, the lads from Newark have under-achieved. 2003 drew down a curtain on a ridiculous run of making the Finals three times in four years, sandwiching two wins (2000, 2003) around a Game 7 loss (2001). But since then, they have only won two total playoff series and didn't even qualify last spring after a run of 13 straight appearances. And the Devils haven't made it out of the first round since 2007. May that all change starting tonight.

Rumor has it (love that Adele) that my birthday was recently. And what better reason to go skiing, especially after a week's worth of snow had cascaded (*groan*) down in the lovely Pacific Northwest all week. And while it was snowing just about all day while I was at Stevens Pass, the fresh snow was great.

I did publicly call out the mountain for utter lack of organization at the base -- everything from the parking lot attendants, to the two, competing lift ticket sales queues, to the lift line management.




It was a weekend, the region had gobs of new snow, and it seemed the fine folks running the slopes were surprised at the crowds. But that's really neither here nor there. On the other hand, I've also never skied in between electrical towers.

At one point, relatively soon after I took this picture on the right I believe, I fell. Hey, it happens. Even for a kid who grew up in Colorado. And I'm not talking about an "agony of defeat"-type fall cartwheeling down the mountain. Just a fall. Maybe I crossed my tips. Maybe I was momentarily distracted. Anyway, down I went and blew out of both bindings. Oh, and my knee hurt. But I clipped back in, finished the run and then skied down off the mountain for the two-hour drive home. And, oh yeah, my knee still hurt.

Fast-forward a few days: my knee was swollen like a basketball, I'm hobbling around like an 83-year old man (no offense, Dad) and was given an early, educated guess by an orthopedist that it was a likely meniscus tear and possible MCL damage. Going on IR seemed likely. Good thing the Broncos had already been eliminated from the playoffs. But as far as lucky breaks go, I cashed in. The MRI showed no tear in either the meniscus or the MCL. Only the fibers that connect one to the other. The upshot? No surgery. For you curious sorts, here's the medical illustration view.