Showing posts with label Alexander Ovechkin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Alexander Ovechkin. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

4 Quarters Radio May 4: 1st Half



After a couple of weeks off from podcasting, mostly due to technical problems, 4Q returns with the May 4 episode, the final one of the spring semester. Scott and Joseph welcome a new co-host (likely to be replacing Joseph in the near future) by the name of Trent Gander. The three talk some NBA playoffs in the first quarter, including why the Spurs are boring and what the Jazz need to have any chance against the Lakers. In the second quarter, it's all about Nowitzki, Ovechkin, and whether they deserve all the blame for their teams' playoff chokes. In Whodaman, Scott cracks a nicely off-color joke in honoring a historic accomplishment. Excised music: "The Smidge" by the Hold Steady and "Come Clean" by Greg Laswell.

Thursday, February 11, 2010

Exhibit #218 Of Why Ovechkin > Gretzky



That, friends, is 6'2", 220-pound Alexander Ovechkin absolutely demolishing 6'7", 250-pound Hal Gill of the Montreal Canadiens. At first, it resulted in a goal, but after some consultation, the referees tooketh away.

This kind of fullback intensity is why I enjoy watching Ovechkin play over pretty much anyone that's ever strapped on skates.

Gretzky never had the size or the inclination to do that to anybody. Mario Lemieux never wanted anywhere near that kind of check, even though he was plenty big enough to do it. Same with Jaromir Jagr.

You have to look at players like Rick Tocchet or Brendan Shanahan to find that sort of cross between sniper and enforcer, but Ovechkin will surpass most everything either of those two ever did...provided he doesn't kill himself smoking some fool in the process.

Comparing Tocchet to Ovie is sort of like comparing a Windstar to a Hummer. And on a good day, Shanny might get to be the A-Team van.

It's a rare talent who can thrill you with a sweet, otherworldly goal one night and then some other night, absolutely bitchslap a mammoth defenseman into the goal mouth. And me, I like a little nasty with my nice. Thrash on, Alex. Thrash on.