Tyler Myers

In this interview from four years ago, Greg Jackson comments on preparing Jon Jones for his fights:

       He has a unique creativity. To me, he’s more of a unique person...and he’s actually a real challenge for me as a coach, because I want to make sure that he’s got his basics really strong, but I have to keep the creativity...Those two things, making them concurrent...it’s such a challenge.

       I tend to come back to this around the run-up to the draft, as Mckenzie rankings and mock results are churned up over and over until the actual event takes place. Beyond that, it’s an interesting observation that has applications for anyone trying to understand the development of a set of skills in any field. From my own coaching, it’s something that becomes more and more apparent the less time you have to develop the skills that make playing your game possible. You have an ideal set of plans you’d like to enact, patterns of play you want to enforce, habits you want to build based on the makeup of your team, that you believe puts them in the best position to win. This is very difficult to achieve in the best circumstances, and sometimes feels impossible in the context of beer league hockey, based on individual availability, the price and scarcity of ice time, and the limited human tolerance for multiple evenings of hockey a week starting at 11pm, “for fun.” You wish for more opportunities to play in the beginning. By the end, your body hates you and is ready for the offseason.

Recent trade speculation brings me back to Jackson’s comments while thinking about the way Tyler Myers is perceived. Tyler Myers is a lot of things to a lot of people. I think he’s a very good hockey player, with some qualifications. I believe part of the disappointment over his inability to sustain the production of his Calder-winning 2009-10 season stems from reading the point totals behind it out of context. I also believe that some of the criticism is justified. It’s not controversial to say that Tyler Myers isn’t going to become the omnipotent Chara/Weber-esque alpha blueliner a lot of Buffalo fans would like him to be. He’s not Erik Karlsson or Drew Doughty, either, to point to two particularly skilled examples from within the 2008 draft class*(footnote). I think of Myers’ game as combining the styles of the players mentioned above, both in the way he plays and his impact on the ice. 

A Blackhawks and Sabres Comparison in Failure

      Before going over some numbers, I want to discuss the merits of this comparison. We have a variety of metrics that make such a thing possible, but I want to set a few terms, first. The Sabres were the worst team last season by a mile and also the worst team I know well. Conversely, the Blackhawks were a top five team in just about every statistical category that matters, narrowly missed a second consecutive Stanley Cup final berth, and are expected to dominate their opponents again this season. If anything, the stark contrast should clarify the extent of Chicago's success and the depth of Buffalo's failings. By classifying them both in failure, I'm conflating a well-coached roster stacked with top level talent, balanced by tremendous depth, maintained by an excellent salary structure, with one that can generously be called a haphazard collection of equal parts youth, floating debris, and other teams' veteran castoffs, the remains of a toppled regime repurposed towards the growth of the current one, in the hope that this group can be cultivated into a winner. One makes minor offseason tweaks, buying low on free agents with potential upside, making swaps for cap space and developmental resources just short of the first puck drop. The other is lauded for its prospect pool and its future under the vision of a brave new general manager, things which are mentioned exclusively about a team with no lower place to occupy, just as you praise the volume of hits belonging to a player whose team never has the puck.

       It's more complicated than that, of course. The obvious place to start is with the Stanley Cup, the literal embodiment of victory in the sport. The run up to the final is paved with montage after montage of Stanley cup porn. Ecstatic, exhausted players raising the trophy with a howl, shriek, or guttural scream. Black and white images flowing into the present day. Rod Brind'amour ripping the Cup out of Gary Bettman's hands. Joe Sakic handing it off to Ray Bourque like it's 2001 every year. Your name is engraved in the trophy forever and your face goes into the footage archive for the next montage. You get a huge, drunken parade, your own day with the cup, and a panegyric from all corners of the media until the next season comes around. 
       There's also the President's Trophy. No one will ever claim to care about winning the Presidents' Trophy. Raising a Presidents' Trophy, conference champion, or, god forbid, division champion banner, is marked by indifference at best, appreciative sadness at worst, whenever it fails to coincide with the Stanley Cup. The Presidents' Trophy is there for the best regular season team (or close enough, if they're from the Eastern conference) to ignore as they concentrate on avoiding the shame of an early exit.

Failure

 Hey, everybody.

 I have some thoughts about hockey I want to develop more, so instead of forgetting them, I'll share them here.

 Failure, in particular, has held my interest over the length of the off-season. As a Sabres fan, I'm well acquainted with its varieties. I want to explore the diversity of failure in hockey, whether it's in the games, the presentation, or the monetary side of things. The NHL as a whole, over the last two decades or so, has found itself often on both sides of the divide at the same time. The game's expansion into non-traditional markets in the US has made a handful of excellent franchises alongside a group of extremely problematic ones. The league has been the recipient of massive amounts of television revenue and increased exposure, but is still obscure enough for important issues of player health to go ignored by the (American*) media.
 Focusing on the actual competition, there are 29 failures to one victory at the end of every season. We justifiably emphasize what the winners were able to accomplish. At the same time, there is a tremendous depth of narrative in analysing what happened to the other 29 teams. A summer has passed in which Toronto replaced a large chunk of its management structure to make use of contemporary analytic techniques, at the expense of the old boys network. Pittsburgh was this close to hiring Pierre McGuire, allegedly. There are many, many flavors of poor performance, idiotic planning, and near misses worth going over again.
 Additionally, we're primed for a season featuring not one, but two 'generational' talents at the end of the line for the worst of the worst. There's a lot to play for, even when your team's out of it by Christmas, and there are a number of truly awful teams to compete for the prize.

 That's about it for now. I have a few things I'm working on that'll be up when they seem okay. If you have anything you want to see, let me know.

 Thanks, 
 Andrew

*I'm American, so you're not likely going to here much about Canadian media coverage out of me beyond laughing at funny voices and pleasant idioms.