Ancient and modern history, history in the making.
Jan 18, 2003 13:15:37 GMT -5
Post by UberCranky on Jan 18, 2003 13:15:37 GMT -5
Ancient history, modern history, history in the making.
A coaches life is a tough one. You have to be a father, a brother, a mentor, a friend, a father confessor and a Devil to your players, meanwhile through all that you have to extract the very best out of them. As long as you are winning you are relatively safe but far from soundly sleeping. Only Championships satisfy the endless gluttony of ravaging fans. "What have you done for me today?" mentality stems from the tribal mentality which ultimately stems from survival instincts.
Back in time, when people were foraging for food and pucks, they were exposed to all type of dangers. A hyena or a Tucker beast were no further then the next bush. Coming together into groups was a necessity and proved ultimately to be a winning survival strategy. Groups became tribes and tribes became towns. A million years (or two) separate us from the howls of victory over a hyena to the cheers and chants after the dreaded Tucker beast is checked to the ground. The way we identify with our team is no different then the days we gather in groups for our own survival. As humans, we are constantly doing it, in politics, in religion, at work, everywhere.
We see our team as an extension of ourselves. Their loss is our loss. Their suffering is our suffering. We can not do anything directly to change that so we do the next closest thing. We become vocal and agitated, howling at their (our) defeats. Look through our the pages of this board, you will see howling at every click of a mouse. Combine the howling and a modicum of intelligence and you get a Hab fan. A ravenous, impatient beast that Hab fan is, always demanding more. Always.
How does this all connect you say? Are not the coaches the leaders of our team? Are they not suppose to teach the young ones and guide the older ones? Are they not suppose to formulate strategies and use whatever tactics to win? We rejoice in the individual battles of our warriors but OUR ultimate reward is victory. In a team sport like hockey, the coach has to take all the blame but little of the credit. His job is thankless and stressful, but that has never stopped anyone from taking the reins. The promise of glory is too great and the fall from grace only hurts his pride. Who amongst us would not do that job if we had the knowledge?
Therrien is a decent man and a good coach but in the wrong team. At no point can anyone question his dedication to the CH. However, there is no doubt in my mind that his “adrenaline” and hard work approach was not enough to take this team far. It worked in the beginning and it worked when it was combined with fortuitous events of Koivu’s return. Unfortunately, there is no doubt in my mind and probably none in any Hab fan on this planet that Therrien lost the room. In fact, he lost it a LONG time ago. Birds where chirping.
Therrien is no chirping bird but some have compared him to the long extinct dodo (try as I might, I couldn’t resist that). About a year ago questions started to arise about his abilities. After a long, losing road trip those questions became a chorus of chants from many within, eyebrows were raised and questions asked. However, the howling was muted from the Koivu’s sickness that became a sideshow on it’s own. Visit’s from the Captain and the emotional charge he brought with him rejuvenated the troops and quelled the howlers pitch. No one should ever question the increadable emotional charge the boys received when they Koivu returned. Therrien could have been on Mars and yet the boys were going to win. Combine that with the forceful leadership of Gilmour and the skill and horse shoes of Theo, viola, a team that was going to play WAY over their heads. That short term success had nothing to do with Therriens coaching. Nothing. In fact, we witnessed one of those rare events where a coach actually defeated his own team? Witness Carolina. Understand this, he was not on the ice but he served as a catalyst for the chain of events. At that point the locker room was not divided, it was destroyed.
A coaches life is a tough one. You have to be a father, a brother, a mentor, a friend, a father confessor and a Devil to your players, meanwhile through all that you have to extract the very best out of them. As long as you are winning you are relatively safe but far from soundly sleeping. Only Championships satisfy the endless gluttony of ravaging fans. "What have you done for me today?" mentality stems from the tribal mentality which ultimately stems from survival instincts.
Back in time, when people were foraging for food and pucks, they were exposed to all type of dangers. A hyena or a Tucker beast were no further then the next bush. Coming together into groups was a necessity and proved ultimately to be a winning survival strategy. Groups became tribes and tribes became towns. A million years (or two) separate us from the howls of victory over a hyena to the cheers and chants after the dreaded Tucker beast is checked to the ground. The way we identify with our team is no different then the days we gather in groups for our own survival. As humans, we are constantly doing it, in politics, in religion, at work, everywhere.
We see our team as an extension of ourselves. Their loss is our loss. Their suffering is our suffering. We can not do anything directly to change that so we do the next closest thing. We become vocal and agitated, howling at their (our) defeats. Look through our the pages of this board, you will see howling at every click of a mouse. Combine the howling and a modicum of intelligence and you get a Hab fan. A ravenous, impatient beast that Hab fan is, always demanding more. Always.
How does this all connect you say? Are not the coaches the leaders of our team? Are they not suppose to teach the young ones and guide the older ones? Are they not suppose to formulate strategies and use whatever tactics to win? We rejoice in the individual battles of our warriors but OUR ultimate reward is victory. In a team sport like hockey, the coach has to take all the blame but little of the credit. His job is thankless and stressful, but that has never stopped anyone from taking the reins. The promise of glory is too great and the fall from grace only hurts his pride. Who amongst us would not do that job if we had the knowledge?
Therrien is a decent man and a good coach but in the wrong team. At no point can anyone question his dedication to the CH. However, there is no doubt in my mind that his “adrenaline” and hard work approach was not enough to take this team far. It worked in the beginning and it worked when it was combined with fortuitous events of Koivu’s return. Unfortunately, there is no doubt in my mind and probably none in any Hab fan on this planet that Therrien lost the room. In fact, he lost it a LONG time ago. Birds where chirping.
Therrien is no chirping bird but some have compared him to the long extinct dodo (try as I might, I couldn’t resist that). About a year ago questions started to arise about his abilities. After a long, losing road trip those questions became a chorus of chants from many within, eyebrows were raised and questions asked. However, the howling was muted from the Koivu’s sickness that became a sideshow on it’s own. Visit’s from the Captain and the emotional charge he brought with him rejuvenated the troops and quelled the howlers pitch. No one should ever question the increadable emotional charge the boys received when they Koivu returned. Therrien could have been on Mars and yet the boys were going to win. Combine that with the forceful leadership of Gilmour and the skill and horse shoes of Theo, viola, a team that was going to play WAY over their heads. That short term success had nothing to do with Therriens coaching. Nothing. In fact, we witnessed one of those rare events where a coach actually defeated his own team? Witness Carolina. Understand this, he was not on the ice but he served as a catalyst for the chain of events. At that point the locker room was not divided, it was destroyed.