Devils and Everyone Else

In watching the the New York Rangers play the Winnipeg Jets right now, I'm entertained by the end to end action and by the momentary feats of individual achievement. Hockey isn't a sport that lends itself to stand-outs: things happen too quickly, it's too team-based to have superstars like in basketball or baseball, where fans have time to realize who has the ball and how good they're doing with it. Ryan Callahan just had a fantastic period, blocking 3 or 4 shots face-first, 2 on one shift, and scoring a nice garbage goal. The action is very end-to-end, odd-man rushes going back and forth, lots of posts.

It makes me think of the amazingly boring hockey that the New Jersey Devils play, and how that boringness is the result of a team of mediocre players that simply don't screw up as often as players on other teams. Each of Callahan's momentary heroics was the result of some kind of breakdown: the offside wing is out of position and he has to jump out, twice in one shift, to cover. Odd-man rushes are usually the result of an ill-timed pinch or missed hit; you just don't see Andy Greene or Marek Zidlicky do that as often. New Jersey goals are pretty evenly dispersed up and down the roster, because if you're moving that thing around the right way you don't need Gaboriks and Nashs to manufacture goals with one-man efforts. What amazes me, more than anything, is the consistency of Devils coaching that routinely produces a team-wide discipline and dedication to success as an organization, as opposed to an individual. I can see the bright lights of MSG making life difficult for even a personality like Tortorella to draw guys together around a collective goal. Give me the slightly-dimmer lights of the Rock across the swamp in Newark any day.