The exact same regurgitated worn out alternative topic for discussion.

Green isn’t going to tank, players aren’t going to tank, Benning has no intentions of tanking.

Now if stickboy gets injured again (seems likely), Markstrom reverts back to crap, Boeser and Horvat dry up again and the team losses 10 in a row, then Lefty and Bloated can rejoice and proclaim the tank was always the plan.
- Makita

Every topic on here is regurgitated. The minute you introduce something new you are reminded it’s a hockey blog and to stay on topic.

So now you’re saying I should feel shame for bring up hockey topics that you and some of your fan boys find tiresome?

Every topic on here is regurgitated. The minute you introduce something new you are reminded it’s a hockey blog and to stay on topic.

So now you’re saying I should feel shame for bring up hockey topics that you and some of your fan boys find tiresome?
- bloatedmosquito

No that's not what I am saying at all, , it is my contribution to the topic of tanking, the legitimacy of tanking, the notion that there is a conceived outlined plan by the GM to tank.

I have no idea why you would you think I am trying to make you feel shame for 10 pages of you and Lefty calmly discussing tanking. You feeling guilty about your own thoughts maybe

No that's not what I am saying at all, , it is my contribution to the topic of tanking, the legitimacy of tanking, the notion that there is a conceived outlined plan by the GM to tank.

I have no idea why you would you think I am trying to make you feel shame for 10 pages of you and Lefty calmly discussing tanking. You feeling guilty about your own thoughts maybe
- Makita

I think you are right the coaches and players will always win, but if you dont think gm’s make roster moves thinking ahead to the draft position you’ve lost it imo. Canucks will be sellers imo, lots of pressure with the draft in Van imo theyve only just begun making moves. I really hope they take on at least one roster dunp for a pick, not many years of having that flexibioity left.

No that's not what I am saying at all, , it is my contribution to the topic of tanking, the legitimacy of tanking, the notion that there is a conceived outlined plan by the GM to tank.

I have no idea why you would you think I am trying to make you feel shame for 10 pages of you and Lefty calmly discussing tanking. You feeling guilty about your own thoughts maybe
- Makita

No, it’s just the term regurgitate is a bit negative no? It sounds like what we are talking about is not significant.

You stated with confidence that nobody tanks. I kind of disagree with that.

I find it similar to the notion of ‘contract year’. Why do players seem to turn on the jets when in the last year of their contract? If they can turn it on when required then they can turn it off as well.

Still can’t believe we both made the playoffs that year lol
- Redmile247

no sh!t...

This is interesting because I'm of the opinion it doesn't matter where we finish anymore. We talk about how teams miss players all the time that go after the tip 5. Let's use Pastranak, Boeser, Debrincat etc etc. A good scouting group can find guys anywhere and while a top 5 to 10 pick makes your pick probably a bit easier there are no guarantees obviously. I look at our draft luck and am thrilled we didnt win the lottery the last 2 years or we very well may not have EP and Quinn. To me that is lottery luck. It's time to start winning with home grown guys. Stay the course try and get picks for expiring deals. Go canucks

I dont know why I quoted you Vantel lol. Have a nice day you guys
- Jkuzzi

The process, the patience, the whatever. Just don't make any stupid moves aimed at immediate success that hurts us down the road.

I saw someone biatching on a Province article awhile back about how we should have taken Tkachuk instead of OJ. I guess they were right but with that revisionist history, we might not have had the same opportunity to grab EP.

Just want to keep on trucking with what we have and see where we pick at the draft. If we make the playoffs along the way, that would be great. If not, hope we have a better draft spot.

This is interesting because I'm of the opinion it doesn't matter where we finish anymore. We talk about how teams miss players all the time that go after the tip 5. Let's use Pastranak, Boeser, Debrincat etc etc. A good scouting group can find guys anywhere and while a top 5 to 10 pick makes your pick probably a bit easier there are no guarantees obviously. I look at our draft luck and am thrilled we didnt win the lottery the last 2 years or we very well may not have EP and Quinn. To me that is lottery luck. It's time to start winning with home grown guys. Stay the course try and get picks for expiring deals. Go canucks

I dont know why I quoted you Vantel lol. Have a nice day you guys
- Jkuzzi

Pastrnak, Boeser, Debricant, Point, Kucherov are all exceptions, not the rule. And stating that its "lottery luck" that the Canucks DIDNT win the lottery the last two years to draft EP and Quinn is dumb. The Canucks had EP ranked higher than the 4 teams that passed, and it was rather 4 teams missing the ball, than it was the Canucks being lucky. Quinn wasn't a matter of luck either, it was two teams drafting positionally in ARI and MTL which led to Zadina and Hughes falling. We didn't create any luck by not being lucky and not winning the lottery, we got lucky that those players fell to the draft position that we were at...

Pastrnak, Boeser, Debricant, Point, Kucherov are all exceptions, not the rule. And stating that its "lottery luck" that the Canucks DIDNT win the lottery the last two years to draft EP and Quinn is dumb. The Canucks had EP ranked higher than the 4 teams that passed, and it was rather 4 teams missing the ball, than it was the Canucks being lucky. Quinn wasn't a matter of luck either, it was two teams drafting positionally in ARI and MTL which led to Zadina and Hughes falling. We didn't create any luck by not being lucky and not winning the lottery, we got lucky that those players fell to the draft position that we were at...
- Codes1087

Calm down Codes. PLAYOFFS 😍🎉

Calm down Codes. PLAYOFFS 😍🎉
- CanuckDon

lol im not wound up at all, just trying to make sense of people thinking we got lucky by being unlucky. Us winning better draft positions would have just secured our chances at getting guys we want, rather than leaving it to chance that other teams are stupid.

Playoffs

Moby Richard Chapter two

I stuffed a shirt or two into my old carpet-bag, tucked it under my arm, and started for Cape Horn and the Pacific. Quitting the good city of old Manhatto, I duly arrived in New Bedford. It was a Saturday night in December. Much was I disappointed upon learning that the little packet for Nantucket had already sailed, and that no way of reaching that place would offer, till the following Monday.

As most young candidates for the pains and penalties of whaling stop at this same New Bedford, thence to embark on their voyage, it may as well be related that I, for one, had no idea of so doing. For my mind was made up to sail in no other than a Nantucket craft, because there was a fine, boisterous something about everything connected with that famous old island, which amazingly pleased me. Besides though New Bedford has of late been gradually monopolizing the business of whaling, and though in this matter poor old Nantucket is now much behind her, yet Nantucket was her great original- the Tyre of this Carthage;- the place where the first dead American whale was stranded. Where else but from Nantucket did those aboriginal whalemen, the Red-Men, first sally out in canoes to give chase to the Leviathan? And where but from Nantucket, too, did that first adventurous little sloop put forth, partly laden with imported cobblestones- so goes the story- to throw at the whales, in order to discover when they were nigh enough to risk a harpoon from the bowsprit?

Now having a night, a day, and still another night following before me in New Bedford, ere could embark for my destined port, it became a matter of concernment where I was to eat and sleep meanwhile. It was a very dubious-looking, nay, a very dark and dismal night, bitingly cold and cheerless. I knew no one in the place. With anxious grapnels I had sounded my pocket, and only brought up a few pieces of silver,- So, wherever you go, Ishmael, said I to myself, as I stood in the middle of a dreary street shouldering my bag, and comparing the towards the north with the darkness towards the south- wherever in your wisdom you may conclude to lodge for the night, my dear Ishmael, be sure to inquire the price, and don't be too particular.

With halting steps I paced the streets, and passed the sign of "The Crossed Harpoons"- but it looked too expensive and jolly there. Further on, from the bright red windows of the "Sword-Fish Inn," there came such fervent rays, that it seemed to have melted the packed snow and ice from before the house, for everywhere else the congealed frost lay ten inches thick in a hard, asphaltic pavement,- rather weary for me, when I struck my foot against the flinty projections, because from hard, remorseless service the soles of my boots were in a most miserable plight. Too expensive and jolly, again thought I, pausing one moment to watch the broad glare in the street, and hear the sounds of the tinkling glasses within. But go on, Ishmael, said I at last; don't you hear? get away from before the door; your patched boots are stopping the way. So on I went. I now by instinct followed the streets that took me waterward, for there, doubtless, were the cheapest, if not the cheeriest inns.

Such dreary streets! blocks of blackness, not houses, on either hand, and here and there a candle, like a candle moving about in a tomb. At this hour of the night, of the last day of the week, that quarter of the town proved all but deserted. But presently I came to a smoky light proceeding from a low, wide building, the door of which stood invitingly open. It had a careless look, as if it were meant for the uses of the public; so, entering, the first thing I did was to stumble over an ash-box in the porch. Ha! thought I, ha, as the flying particles almost choked me, are these ashes from that destroyed city, Gomorrah? But "The Crossed Harpoons," and the "The Sword-Fish?"- this, then must needs be the sign of "The Trap." However, I picked myself up and hearing a loud voice within, pushed on and opened a second, interior door.

It seemed the great Black Parliament sitting in Tophet. A hundred black faces turned round in their rows to peer; and beyond, a black Angel of Doom was beating a book in a pulpit. It was a negro church; and the preacher's text was about the blackness of darkness, and the weeping and wailing and teeth-gnashing there. Ha, Ishmael, muttered I, backing out, Wretched entertainment at the sign of 'The Trap!'

Moving on, I at last came to a dim sort of light not far from the docks, and heard a forlorn creaking in the air; and looking up, saw a swinging sign over the door with a white painting upon it, faintly representing tall straight jet of misty spray, and these words underneath- "The Spouter Inn:- Peter Coffin."

Coffin?- Spouter?- Rather ominous in that particular connexion, thought I. But it is a common name in Nantucket, they say, and I suppose this Peter here is an emigrant from there. As the light looked so dim, and the place, for the time, looked quiet enough, and the dilapidated little wooden house itself looked as if it might have been carted here from the ruins of some burnt district, and as the swinging sign had a poverty-stricken sort of creak to it, I thought that here was the very spot for cheap lodgings, and the best of pea coffee.

It was a queer sort of place- a gable-ended old house, one side palsied as it were, and leaning over sadly. It stood on a sharp bleak corner, where that tempestuous wind Euroclydon kept up a worse howling than ever it did about poor Paul's tossed craft. Euroclydon, nevertheless, is a mighty pleasant zephyr to any one in-doors, with his feet on the hob quietly toasting for bed. "In of that tempestuous wind called Euroclydon," says an old writer- of whose works I possess the only copy extant- "it maketh a marvellous difference, whether thou lookest out at it from a glass window where the frost is all on the outside, or whether thou observest it from that sashless window, where the frost is on both sides, and of which the wight Death is the only glazier." True enough, thought I, as this passage occurred to my mind- old black-letter, thou reasonest well. Yes, these eyes are windows, and this body of mine is the house. What a pity they didn't stop up the chinks and the crannies though, and thrust in a little lint here and there. But it's too late to make any improvements now. The universe is finished; the copestone is on, and the chips were carted off a million years ago. Poor Lazarus there, chattering his teeth against the curbstone for his pillow, and shaking off his tatters with his shiverings, he might plug up both ears with rags, and put a corn-cob into his mouth, and yet that would not keep out the tempestuous Euroclydon. Euroclydon! says old Dives, in his red silken wrapper- (he had a redder one afterwards) pooh, pooh! What a fine frosty night; how Orion glitters; what northern lights! Let them talk of their oriental summer climes of everlasting conservatories; give me the privilege of making my own summer with my own coals.

But what thinks Lazarus? Can he warm his blue hands by holding them up to the grand northern lights? Would not Lazarus rather be in Sumatra than here? Would he not far rather lay him down lengthwise along the line of the equator; yea, ye gods! go down to the fiery pit itself, in order to keep out this frost?

Now, that Lazarus should lie stranded there on the curbstone before the door of Dives, this is more wonderful than that an iceberg should be moored to one of the Moluccas. Yet Dives himself, he too lives like a Czar in an ice palace made of frozen sighs, and being a president of a temperance society, he only drinks the tepid tears of orphans.

But no more of this blubbering now, we are going a-whaling, and there is plenty of that yet to come. Let us scrape the ice from our frosted feet, and see what sort of a place this "Spouter" may be.

Playoffs

Moby Richard Chapter two

I stuffed a shirt or two into my old carpet-bag, tucked it under my arm, and started for Cape Horn and the Pacific. Quitting the good city of old Manhatto, I duly arrived in New Bedford. It was a Saturday night in December. Much was I disappointed upon learning that the little packet for Nantucket had already sailed, and that no way of reaching that place would offer, till the following Monday.

As most young candidates for the pains and penalties of whaling stop at this same New Bedford, thence to embark on their voyage, it may as well be related that I, for one, had no idea of so doing. For my mind was made up to sail in no other than a Nantucket craft, because there was a fine, boisterous something about everything connected with that famous old island, which amazingly pleased me. Besides though New Bedford has of late been gradually monopolizing the business of whaling, and though in this matter poor old Nantucket is now much behind her, yet Nantucket was her great original- the Tyre of this Carthage;- the place where the first dead American whale was stranded. Where else but from Nantucket did those aboriginal whalemen, the Red-Men, first sally out in canoes to give chase to the Leviathan? And where but from Nantucket, too, did that first adventurous little sloop put forth, partly laden with imported cobblestones- so goes the story- to throw at the whales, in order to discover when they were nigh enough to risk a harpoon from the bowsprit?

Now having a night, a day, and still another night following before me in New Bedford, ere could embark for my destined port, it became a matter of concernment where I was to eat and sleep meanwhile. It was a very dubious-looking, nay, a very dark and dismal night, bitingly cold and cheerless. I knew no one in the place. With anxious grapnels I had sounded my pocket, and only brought up a few pieces of silver,- So, wherever you go, Ishmael, said I to myself, as I stood in the middle of a dreary street shouldering my bag, and comparing the towards the north with the darkness towards the south- wherever in your wisdom you may conclude to lodge for the night, my dear Ishmael, be sure to inquire the price, and don't be too particular.

With halting steps I paced the streets, and passed the sign of "The Crossed Harpoons"- but it looked too expensive and jolly there. Further on, from the bright red windows of the "Sword-Fish Inn," there came such fervent rays, that it seemed to have melted the packed snow and ice from before the house, for everywhere else the congealed frost lay ten inches thick in a hard, asphaltic pavement,- rather weary for me, when I struck my foot against the flinty projections, because from hard, remorseless service the soles of my boots were in a most miserable plight. Too expensive and jolly, again thought I, pausing one moment to watch the broad glare in the street, and hear the sounds of the tinkling glasses within. But go on, Ishmael, said I at last; don't you hear? get away from before the door; your patched boots are stopping the way. So on I went. I now by instinct followed the streets that took me waterward, for there, doubtless, were the cheapest, if not the cheeriest inns.

Such dreary streets! blocks of blackness, not houses, on either hand, and here and there a candle, like a candle moving about in a tomb. At this hour of the night, of the last day of the week, that quarter of the town proved all but deserted. But presently I came to a smoky light proceeding from a low, wide building, the door of which stood invitingly open. It had a careless look, as if it were meant for the uses of the public; so, entering, the first thing I did was to stumble over an ash-box in the porch. Ha! thought I, ha, as the flying particles almost choked me, are these ashes from that destroyed city, Gomorrah? But "The Crossed Harpoons," and the "The Sword-Fish?"- this, then must needs be the sign of "The Trap." However, I picked myself up and hearing a loud voice within, pushed on and opened a second, interior door.

It seemed the great Black Parliament sitting in Tophet. A hundred black faces turned round in their rows to peer; and beyond, a black Angel of Doom was beating a book in a pulpit. It was a negro church; and the preacher's text was about the blackness of darkness, and the weeping and wailing and teeth-gnashing there. Ha, Ishmael, muttered I, backing out, Wretched entertainment at the sign of 'The Trap!'

Moving on, I at last came to a dim sort of light not far from the docks, and heard a forlorn creaking in the air; and looking up, saw a swinging sign over the door with a white painting upon it, faintly representing tall straight jet of misty spray, and these words underneath- "The Spouter Inn:- Peter Coffin."

Coffin?- Spouter?- Rather ominous in that particular connexion, thought I. But it is a common name in Nantucket, they say, and I suppose this Peter here is an emigrant from there. As the light looked so dim, and the place, for the time, looked quiet enough, and the dilapidated little wooden house itself looked as if it might have been carted here from the ruins of some burnt district, and as the swinging sign had a poverty-stricken sort of creak to it, I thought that here was the very spot for cheap lodgings, and the best of pea coffee.

It was a queer sort of place- a gable-ended old house, one side palsied as it were, and leaning over sadly. It stood on a sharp bleak corner, where that tempestuous wind Euroclydon kept up a worse howling than ever it did about poor Paul's tossed craft. Euroclydon, nevertheless, is a mighty pleasant zephyr to any one in-doors, with his feet on the hob quietly toasting for bed. "In of that tempestuous wind called Euroclydon," says an old writer- of whose works I possess the only copy extant- "it maketh a marvellous difference, whether thou lookest out at it from a glass window where the frost is all on the outside, or whether thou observest it from that sashless window, where the frost is on both sides, and of which the wight Death is the only glazier." True enough, thought I, as this passage occurred to my mind- old black-letter, thou reasonest well. Yes, these eyes are windows, and this body of mine is the house. What a pity they didn't stop up the chinks and the crannies though, and thrust in a little lint here and there. But it's too late to make any improvements now. The universe is finished; the copestone is on, and the chips were carted off a million years ago. Poor Lazarus there, chattering his teeth against the curbstone for his pillow, and shaking off his tatters with his shiverings, he might plug up both ears with rags, and put a corn-cob into his mouth, and yet that would not keep out the tempestuous Euroclydon. Euroclydon! says old Dives, in his red silken wrapper- (he had a redder one afterwards) pooh, pooh! What a fine frosty night; how Orion glitters; what northern lights! Let them talk of their oriental summer climes of everlasting conservatories; give me the privilege of making my own summer with my own coals.

But what thinks Lazarus? Can he warm his blue hands by holding them up to the grand northern lights? Would not Lazarus rather be in Sumatra than here? Would he not far rather lay him down lengthwise along the line of the equator; yea, ye gods! go down to the fiery pit itself, in order to keep out this frost?

Now, that Lazarus should lie stranded there on the curbstone before the door of Dives, this is more wonderful than that an iceberg should be moored to one of the Moluccas. Yet Dives himself, he too lives like a Czar in an ice palace made of frozen sighs, and being a president of a temperance society, he only drinks the tepid tears of orphans.

But no more of this blubbering now, we are going a-whaling, and there is plenty of that yet to come. Let us scrape the ice from our frosted feet, and see what sort of a place this "Spouter" may be.
- A_SteamingLombardi

thanks, ASL!

No, it’s just the term regurgitate is a bit negative no? It sounds like what we are talking about is not significant.

You stated with confidence that nobody tanks. I kind of disagree with that.

I find it similar to the notion of ‘contract year’. Why do players seem to turn on the jets when in the last year of their contract? If they can turn it on when required then they can turn it off as well.
- bloatedmosquito

its certainly debatable. I think teams will/do tank when they are close to being mathematically eliminated from the playoffs or when they are actually mathematically eliminated from the playoffs, and that isn't by player design, but by the GM. Coaches/Players are bred to win, their jobs are on the line. If the GM has confidence from the owner/president that his job will be saved despite the seasons outcome, I think they have the capability to drive the team to tank, but I don't think players/coaches objectively tank, they all want to win, its in them to win, and there is so much at stake to just intentionally lose.

Lines per Brendan Batchelor
Jake healthy scratched

Goldobin-Horvat-Leivo
Baertschi-Pettersson-Boeser
Roussel-Sutter-Granlund
Eriksson-Beagle-Motte
(Virtanen, Schaller)

Edler-Tanev
Hutton-Stecher
Pouliot-Gudbranson

I think you are right the coaches and players will always win, but if you dont think gm’s make roster moves thinking ahead to the draft position you’ve lost it imo. Canucks will be sellers imo, lots of pressure with the draft in Van imo theyve only just begun making moves. I really hope they take on at least one roster dunp for a pick, not many years of having that flexibioity left.
- neem55

Of course GM's will make roster moves and adjustments to better the overall position of their respective clubs, which is why I stated this...Now if stickboy gets injured again (seems likely), Markstrom reverts back to crap, Boeser and Horvat dry up again and the team losses 10 in a row.
There will be a real possibility that Benning will try to better the teams drafting position.

Lines per Brendan Batchelor
Jake healthy scratched

Goldobin-Horvat-Leivo
Baertschi-Pettersson-Boeser
Roussel-Sutter-Granlund
Eriksson-Beagle-Motte
(Virtanen, Schaller)

Edler-Tanev
Hutton-Stecher
Pouliot-Gudbranson
- Codes1087

Maintenance day?

Maintenance day?
- NorthNuck

not sure, nothing posted/said about it yet.

not sure, nothing posted/said about it yet.
- Codes1087

I can't imagine it's performance based

I think you are right the coaches and players will always win, but if you dont think gm’s make roster moves thinking ahead to the draft position you’ve lost it imo. Canucks will be sellers imo, lots of pressure with the draft in Van imo theyve only just begun making moves. I really hope they take on at least one roster dunp for a pick, not many years of having that flexibioity left.
- neem55

Some guy on the EDM blog wrote that he heard that once Spooner cleared waivers, there was a rumor he’d be traded to VAN with a pick as more of a cap dump.

Not saying that’s true, but would like to see some of those trades made, even if it’s a serviceable guy depth going back the other way (Poopoo, biega, Schaller..)

Of course GM's will make roster moves and adjustments to better the overall position of their respective clubs, which is why I stated this...Now if stickboy gets injured again (seems likely), Markstrom reverts back to crap, Boeser and Horvat dry up again and the team losses 10 in a row.
There will be a real possibility that Benning will try to better the teams drafting position.
- Makita

this ^

GM's certainly influence the roster to put them in a position to "tank", but the idealogy that players/coaches intentionally throw games is absurd. It goes against everything that they have learned/developed as professional athletes

I can't imagine it's performance based
- NorthNuck

cant you? he went pointless in 11 games before his assist last game and couldnt grab hold of an opening in top6. his confidnece/swagger has disappeared imo

cant you? he went pointless in 11 games before his assist last game and couldnt grab hold of an opening in top6. his confidnece/swagger has disappeared imo
- johnnykarate

#SutterEffect

Point and Kucherov were high 2nd and 3rd picks that are key to the team, so no tanking was required for 2 of their top players, drafting properly matters more then high picks.
- onesmallleap

Do you get high or low 2nd and third round picks by finishing as a bubble team?

this ^

GM's certainly influence the roster to put them in a position to "tank", but the idealogy that players/coaches intentionally throw games is absurd. It goes against everything that they have learned/developed as professional athletes
- Codes1087

This is all semantics as far as I'm concerned, for people to throw around a term like tank and use it as a catch all descriptor is incorrect...IMO

My interpretation of tanking is to purposely run the club into the ground, as Bloated pointed out, I will say with confidence that Benning, Green or the players are not engaged in this...IMO

If for some reason the team finds itself in a long losing streak, I also believe Benning will make adjustments to better the team and drafting position...that is not tanking...IMO, I look at that as circumstance and doing his job.

Bloated I am sorry you found the term regurgitated negative and offensive, I see I will have to be cognizant of possible offensive statements in the future.

#SutterEffect
- Codes1087

sutter does suck but he had some shifts with horvat and didnt sieze the opportunity either

I can't imagine it's performance based
- NorthNuck

He's been cold after a nice start, but that was expected. His sh% was too high thanks to some flukey goals.