Be careful what you wish for, I guess. The criticism of the Flames I've heard on the radio over the past few days, while ample in quantity and volume, is right near brainless. If I have to hear another pair of jocks nodding in unison about how the Flames Need To Play To Their Identity, I think I'm going to barf. "Work on the powerplay, Reg" isn't exactly blinding insight, but at least it's supportable.

In '05/06, the Flames did tend to have more success in games with not much scoring than they did in games with lots of scoring. But like just about everything else about their stats, things are a lot less clear when you look at Home and Road separately.

Like, on the road, the Flames were 3-6-0 in games where 8 or more goals were scored: not impressive. But in games where 3 or fewer were scored? 1-4-2. Is that the proof that they can only win low-scoring games?

At home, the boys were a pretty awesome 13-2-3 in games with 3 or fewer. In games with 8 or more? A perfect 3-0-0.

I really don't know how to explain why the Flames have been so much worse on the road than at home over the past 1.1 seasons. Their SV% is a lot worse on the road, but that's not really a Why. Dave Rowe thinks it's a lack of effort. I think that's absurd. More tomorrow.


I want to throw in a nomination for Thoreson's nickname: "Gunnar". First -- it sounds vaguely appropriate for a hockey forward, with the shooting and so forth. Second -- there's a Norwegian element. And third -- well, a story:

In the summer of 1995, Sacamano and I worked with about three dozen other young men & women at a great camp at the U of C. Thanks to the hormonal/thirsty age and nature of the staff, there was plenty of after-hours socializing. Naturally, sometimes friends -- and significant others -- would be involved in the festivities.

So this nice young lady who will remain nameless brought her boyfriend Gunnar along for a camping weekend out in the Kananaskis. A bunch of us are playing some Frisbee game on the Saturday afternoon, including the aforementioned Gunnar, and we came to a startling and grisly discovery: the guy was so uncoordinated, he couldn't throw a Frisbee. At all.

The game dissolved quickly, as everyone was so uncomfortable with this. Sacamano is roughly speaking the nicest and least judgemental person in the world, and his take was (IIRC), "Who can't throw a Frisbee? Can't everyone older than 10 throw a Frisbee? How is this possible?"

As someone whose team will be facing Gunnar Thoreson dozens of times over the next few years, I'm thrilled to give him a nickname that denotes a comical lack of coordination. So shall it be.

[P.S. Gunnar's girlfriend found out not long after this no one wanted to hang out with him, or even stand too near to him, because he couldn't throw a 'bee. She was so mad/devastated by this reaction that she actually sobbed for most of a night, and was affected for the rest of the summer. Recalling this still makes me laugh. I'm going to hell.]