Whatever secret or secrets Sharks owner Hasso Plattner held in allegedly masterminding/mediating the Doug Wilson-Joe Thornton hell-picnic pale in importance to the number of customers who will take a hike on their 2015-16 season tickets.
They have been handed a crummy season, then got the Thornton-Wilson exchange, and then were treated to a 6-2 loss at home to Chicago before a seven-game road trip through seven hockey-mad cities who are not going to take “All good” as an answer. Happy days.
Then again, part of the problem here is that Plattner can only be in the United States a minimal amount of time per year, so whatever mediating skills he allegedly applied to this problem are limited -– though beer wouldn’t be a bad way to start. I mean, it won’t help make the two men any cheerier about each other in private, but it would be beer. And beer is indisputably beer.
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After sending out the backups in Denver Friday night, Golden State coach Steve Kerr sent sympathetic E-mails to some unhappy Denver fans who walked 910 miles in snow uphill both ways to see Stephen Curry only to get more Leandro Barbosa than they could ever wanted.
That’s the old news. The new news is that he sent another 19,812 sympathetic E-mails to New York Knicks fans saying, “Look, if it helps at all, your team would be 13-52 with me as coach, with Phil as coach, with Red Freaking Auerbach as coach. You were doomed from the start. And no, I couldn’t sit my starters two games in a row without creepy old David Stern turning up as the league’s emeritus pain in the ass and fining me $250K.”
Happy face emoji happy face emoji happy face emoji.
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I’m not sure how you retire an open-necked polo shirt, but the Giants should do it on Opening Day for former general manager Al Rosen, who passed Saturday.
He helped resuscitate a dead franchise, and the team should treat it like a full-fledged jersey retirement. After all, we all know how the Giants thrive at pomp-and-circumstance moments. No arguments, no “but we don’t have the time,” no “we don’t do that kind of thing,” and no “that was from a previous regime.” Do it, or be shamed for having failed.
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Speaking of, John Shea’s chat with Gregor Blanco in Sunday’s Chronicle on the subject of Pablo Sandoval reminds us all of two things:
First, memories are often short. But second and more important, we are never going to let this largely insignificant Sandoval story die, ever. We suck.
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Montreal Canadiens goaltender/savior Carey Price posed for a fan selfie during a timeout in the Habs’ 3-1 win over the New York Islanders. The score matters because if Montreal had lost, the ashes from the inert figure that was Price would still be smoking today.
And that’s Montreal. If Price played in Toronto, there would be an army of soot specialists evaluating what this means for the Maple Leafs’ 48th-consecutive offseason of shame and filth. Or as we like to call it, summer at the lake.
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Haloti Ngata’s letter in Sunday’s Baltimore Sun to Ravens fans is the latest in a growing series of always-satisfying testimonials to supporters. It’s the perfect goodbye that insures a lifetime of good feelings and free drinks.
But just once, you’d like one unhappy departing athlete to take out a full-page that reads simply:
“I’m leaving, and not a moment too soon. Everything I did, I did on my own, solely for me. You were of no help whatsoever. You lifted no weights, sat through zero meetings, battled no opponents, provided no comfort, and were actually kind of a pain in the ass with all your ‘Sign this’ and ‘Pose for that’ nonsense. The only way I’m ever coming back is if the schedule or extradition forces me to do so. So long, suckers. In no ways sincerely, ---------.”
I mean, just one time isn’t too much to ask.
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Georgia State coach Ron Hunter celebrated his team’s 38-36 win over Georgia Southern and first trip to the NCAA Tournament in 14 years by blowing his Achilles tendon in the postgame scrum. Oh, and by the way, Kevin Ware, who broke his leg on national television while playing in 2013 Final Four with Louisville, led Georgia State with 18 points.
In other words, God’s having a bit of a laugh.
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California spat out a paltry three teams to the NCAA Tournament, and the most appealing of them was UC Irvine, based on their mascot (Anteaters) and their alternate nickname (Zot, the sound an anteater makes in comic strips). Second is San Diego State, which plays as though the shot clock is eight minutes long. And third is UCLA, which deserved to be included in the tournament mostly because the nation wants to see head coach Steve Alford looking as he usually does -- like he is passing someone else’s kidney stone.
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And finally, with that in mind, We Are Zot. Unless We Are Ospreys. Or maybe Chanticleers. The rest of the Tournament can go hang. Except for your 67 picks. Because without gambling, this is the NIT.