Another one on nhl.com, this time a little special.

I am ready. Headphones are already on, recording device probably will be ready, all I need now is you people in North America to call me at (718) 395-1775. My fellow Euros can call me at +358 9 2316 5817.
When to call me on Wednesday, April 2? I will be available to talk between 9 p.m. CET (3 pm EST) and 2 am CET (8 pm EST). After that, if you do call, feel free to leave a message, but don’t expect me to answer, I will be fast asleep.

More below or here.

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Two weeks ago, I read this great article in the New Yorker, about magic and magicians. Magicians fascinate me to no end. One of the centerpieces of the article, and apparently the whole magical community, is Tannen’s Magic shop in New York. (A must-see on my next trip).

The next day, I checked my website’s stats, and saw a visitor ID I hadn’t seen before. And yes, it was Tannen’s.

Magic!

I spent all day today talking to veteran and retired hockey players about winning. Everybody has a theory, but screenwriter William Goldman’s “Nobody knows anything” applies to winning the Stanley Cup just as well as to what makes a Hollywood hit.

Nobody knows. Sometimes things just click. You have the right players in the right place at the same time, and good things happen.

Somehow, I find that heartening. And very, very fascinating.

Fifty years ago, Brazil and Sweden played in the World Cup final. Brazil won, 5-2, but with the 50th anniversary and everything, the Swedish media is running a lot of stories about the game.

In one of the photos, the Brazilian captain lifts the World Cup trophy. Around him, there’s a half a dozen photographers, dressed in suits and ties, and the Swedish players, with their arms crossed, some are smiling and seem to be talking with each other a little.

Imagine that. Not even the Swedes are as great losers anymore.

Easter is my least favorite holiday. Although, I remember this one time when my parents and I did this funny thing where you take the, um, go to the, uh, when you watch a lot of movies and try to, kind of, and you… In fact, the only fun memory I have of Easter are the funny pictures my father used to paint on the eggs on Easter Sunday. Other than that, Easter is just one big gray bore to me.

Compared to Xmas, Easter has nothing. The food’s worse, there are no presents, the weather’s bad, and it at least used to be a really long holiday with all the stores closed, and absolutely nobody around. Easter was a solitary holiday for me and the Good Friday, well, just an OK Friday at best.

Hopefully, this year, we can make Easter a Feaster, and paint a lot of funny eggs.

My daughter turned two today. She was blissfully ignorant about that, but fully enjoyed the attention she got all day.

As did her brother, the emcee of the show, and her manager. I think his cut is 30 percent, which, having seen him work, is only fair.

He got off easy. Red card is nothing, considering that the punishment for this deadly sin, wrath (or anger), is being dismembered alive. Of course, that’s after the Big Referee takes the priest off the game. How he can be dismembered alive in Hell is beyond me.

Wrote a piece about Team Finland’s Canadian head coach, Doug Shedden, today. Here’s a quote worth remembering.

I think the players forget the fun big time, and that’s why I take them to outdoor rinks, to remind them that they didn’t play for money back then. Sometimes in this day and age we forget why we play the game. Is it for the dollars or because we love it? I never made any great money when I played, but I still loved putting the skates on, and I love players who love putting the skates on.

And besides the fact that I love to see guys who love putting the skates on put their skates on for a coach who loves players who love putting the skates on, I also agree with him.

The two young ladies were walking down the street, talking cheerfully, when a young man stepped in front of them, trying to get their attention.

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The fans were cheering loudly, they were singing and chanting, and clapping, and waving their flags. For about ten minutes, they chanted something that sounded like this:

“YOAOAOYEACAMENASARKEYYAAVIYEACAMENA!”

A young man next to me was quietly chanting along, clapping his hands with the rest of them. I finally asked him, “What are they chanting, exactly?”

“I don’t know,” he said.