Having a party

Rollin’ down I-84 Wednesday toward Pennsylvania, temperature 76 degrees, Sam Cooke on the radio, trees getting green, grass getting greener, sun shining down, on the road to playoff hockey. Is there a better time of year?*

This never-ending road to Wilkes-Barre has finally ended, and the postseason begins for Bridgeport tonight. Figure on a couple of lines being reunited and a defense pair of two reconvening. The middle is a question, but there’s some guys, you might remember, who filled in well there during the year. They probably get to try again.

The Pens are formidable. I went back and forth on my prediction about 15 times Wednesday afternoon. (To see it, you’ll need 50 cents or good luck on the Web.**) What didn’t change for me was the length of the series. I expect to be back in this town Oct. 29. Maybe even into Oct. 30.

*-I submit “no.”
**-Here’s one on the cheap: Right now I’m thinking one of Portland, Grand Rapids or Houston for the Cup, and gun to my head now, I think it’s Portland.


Apparently you can add Evgeny Tunik to the list (Mark Lee, Mike Jarmuth) of players who’ve headed home to ease the logjam. I shouldn’t single him out, but I’ll single him out: He worked hard, on and off the ice, and for a kid who professed not to know English last summer, he was fun to cover. Hope to see him in the fall.


This trip is kind of special for me. The area, as you probably know, is an old mining region. In the 1800s, lots of Irish came out here to make their way. One couple in Scranton had a son named Matthew, who worked the mines himself when he grew up. He married a girl named Loretta, and they had I think six children, three of whom survived: Veronica, Gerard and, in 1918, Clare. When the Depression hit, they went to New York. Clare married Dan, and their third girl was another Veronica. And it’s her fault I’m writing you this.

The 1918 Scranton directory lists a man with my great-grandfather’s name, listed as “lab.” (laborer), on Maple Street in the 19th Ward, around the corner from where a lot of my Mom’s family lived when she went to visit as a girl. One of these afternoons, I plan to take a drive up to Maple Street. Just to see.


On the comments earlier: Stan, when you asked, I was at home. When I read it, I was in Wilkes-Barre. Funny how that happens. I am going nowhere but Scranton (and Pittston for practice Friday, and maybe Moosic) until Game 2 ends. By rule, yes, I am allowed near the Penguins. I actually talked to a couple of them last week for some stuff, most of which didn’t make it in because of the busy week. (Kudos to Gary, Dave, Bill and the rest of the gang on the desk for squeezing in more BST this week than they probably planned to squeeze in.) If Thursday’s game goes to OT, though, pick up New Haven County edition for more WBS stuff than you want to know.

See, while this is the most wonderful time of the year, it also means an OT game wreaks havoc with our deadlines. A single OT might force us to miss New Haven County. If it goes deep into that first OT, there goes the Valley. Double OT? Forget it. In the playoffs, knowing that it’s a possibility, I try to prepare a nightly “punk story”*** that will fill the space if the game runs long. That might be a player feature — many a punk story became my next off-day story — or a longish, notebooky thing in desperation, which is tougher when we’re running a notebook to begin wth. You want it to be timely and worthwhile, but at the same time it has to be something you aren’t going to necessarily want to use as a main story for all editions… It’s a delicate balance, and it’s one of the odd but neat parts about the playoffs.

So if you’re looking for a gamer and you find something you don’t expect, check here and on the Web. We might’ve had to punk it.

***-No idea why.

Andy, no, doesn’t sound good on O’Marra, but he should be OK. When he walked into the dressing room in glasses instead of contacts, I had to look twice — didn’t recognize him right away. Of course, with all the new faces in here, maybe that’s natural. It is like training camp. “I know that one. Is that Tambellini? Which one’s that?”

Len, I don’t think there’s a record kept like that… Impressive accomplishment by the kid, though. And by you as well, with comment No. 400. (I account for a lot of those, though, so I don’t know if they should count.)

Talkin’ punk stories got me thinking. Click here for some of the stuff you could have been subjected to, if not for some valiant game-winning goal scorer.

Michael Fornabaio