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Tolstoy

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Posts posted by Tolstoy

  1. 16 minutes ago, HoosierDaddy said:

    What team is going to trade a roster player, it’s top prospect(s), and multiple first-round picks for a guy who needs back surgery, is rumoured to be kind of a d-bag and may have a drug problem?

    I have not read the 200+ posts here, and this is my first time speaking about this issue, but I just want to say that I think this Eichel situation is absurd. How in heaven's name can the Sabres possibly expect to get full value for a player whose health is in question?? (To be fair, I am not sure Adams is under any delusion about this.) And as the poster here says it, what team would make this trade for Eichel?? (Again, given the lack of movement, I am not sure that any other teams are under any delusion about this either.). No wonder no trade has happened.

    The Sabres and Eichel have only one path forward in the immediate future--together. For now, at least, they are stuck with each other. They should sit down in a room and accept that fact, and ask--how can we move forward for now? Answer-- (1) let's come to an agreement on the medical procedure; (2) let's get Jack to full health; (3) let's get him on the ice producing at his near MVP clip, (4) then and only then, if we still want to part ways, we discuss it then. Who knows, maybe there is a shift in attitudes and Jack wants to stick around; otherwise, this is ludicrous.

    Am I wrong about this? 

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  2. 3 years from now we will have officially wasted 6 years of Jack Eichel. unbelievable 

    I get your point, but all of this assumes that our young players remain at their current level. If and when Eichel, Mittelstadt, Dahlin, et al. really start to develop into elite players, they lift the whole team. Everyone looks better. Any BTW, I think what is being forgotten here is what is hopefully a huge upgrade at the goalie position. Lehner did not help the team last year.

  3. My two cents:

     

    The Sabres were worst in the NHL last year. Everybody should be expendable except Eichel an Mittelstadt. . Don't forget that ROR was the ostensible leader on that team, given his ages, status, and experience. Well, the proof of the pudding is in the eating. His leadership failed miserably. He disappeared for games at a time, and his attitude got old. 

     

    While I don't love any of the players we got in return, they are at least NHL quality. The team needed an overhaul. Might as well embrace change. 

  4. This is not a big deal, but I am just curious:

     

    The Buffalo-Toronto trade that happened yesterday is reported in the following manner: 

     

    JUNE 23: Toronto Maple Leafs acquire No. 156 pick in 2018 NHL Draft from Buffalo Sabres for sixth-round pick in 2019 NHL Draft.

     

    What I don't understand is why you would trade the first pick of round six this year for what is almost definitely a later pick in round six next year? One wouldn't do such a thing straight up in the same year, much less for a future pick (all things equal, future picks have less value then present picks). There must be more to this than meets the eye, such as:

     

    -There was another formal piece of the trade that was not reported.

    -There was an informal handshake, wink-wink aspect of the trade not reported (wonder what that would be...)

    -Next year's draft is considered to be so far ahead of this years draft that next year's round 6 player is guaranteed to be better than anything we could get in round six this year, even though it would be a later pick.

    -No one really cares about a round six player much at all. They are all long shots to begin with when it comes to ever seeing NHL ice time.

     

    Or am I missing something here?

     

  5.  

    Let us go then, you and I,
    When the evening is spread out against the sky
    Like a patient etherized upon a table;
    Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
    The muttering retreats
    Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
    And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
    Streets that follow like a tedious argument
    Of insidious intent
    To lead you to an overwhelming question ...
    Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
    Let us go and make our visit.
     
    In the room the women come and go
    Talking of Michelangelo.
     
    The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
    The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes,
    Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
    Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
    Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
    Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
    And seeing that it was a soft October night,
    Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.
     
    And indeed there will be time
    For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
    Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
    There will be time, there will be time
    To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
    There will be time to murder and create,
    And time for all the works and days of hands
    That lift and drop a question on your plate;
    Time for you and time for me,
    And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
    And for a hundred visions and revisions,
    Before the taking of a toast and tea.
     
    In the room the women come and go
    Talking of Michelangelo.
     
    And indeed there will be time
    To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
    Time to turn back and descend the stair,
    With a bald spot in the middle of my hair —
    (They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”)
    My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
    My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin —
    (They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”)
    Do I dare
    Disturb the universe?
    In a minute there is time
    For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
     
    For I have known them all already, known them all:
    Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
    I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
    I know the voices dying with a dying fall
    Beneath the music from a farther room.
                   So how should I presume?
     
    And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
    The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
    And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
    When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
    Then how should I begin
    To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
                   And how should I presume?
     
    And I have known the arms already, known them all—
    Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
    (But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)
    Is it perfume from a dress
    That makes me so digress?
    Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
                   And should I then presume?
                   And how should I begin?
     
    Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
    And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
    Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? ...
     
    I should have been a pair of ragged claws
    Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
     
    And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
    Smoothed by long fingers,
    Asleep ... tired ... or it malingers,
    Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
    Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
    Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
    But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
    Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,
    I am no prophet — and here’s no great matter;
    I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
    And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
    And in short, I was afraid.
     
    And would it have been worth it, after all,
    After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
    Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
    Would it have been worth while,
    To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
    To have squeezed the universe into a ball
    To roll it towards some overwhelming question,
    To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
    Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”—
    If one, settling a pillow by her head
                   Should say: “That is not what I meant at all;
                   That is not it, at all.”
     
    And would it have been worth it, after all,
    Would it have been worth while,
    After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
    After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
    And this, and so much more?—
    It is impossible to say just what I mean!
    But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
    Would it have been worth while
    If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
    And turning toward the window, should say:
                   “That is not it at all,
                   That is not what I meant, at all.”
     
    No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
    Am an attendant lord, one that will do
    To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
    Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
    Deferential, glad to be of use,
    Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
    Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
    At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
    Almost, at times, the Fool.
     
    I grow old ... I grow old ...
    I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
     
    Shall I part my hair behind?   Do I dare to eat a peach?
    I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
    I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
     
    I do not think that they will sing to me.
     
    I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
    Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
    When the wind blows the water white and black.
    We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
    By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown

    Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

     

    The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock!!! Haven't heard that in years. Well-said.

  6. My own amateur opinion:

     

    There will be tremendous pressure on Brazil: anything less than world cup champions will be seen as a failure. I don't think the team has the leadership, character, and composure to deal with that pressure, so I predict a loss in the quarterfinals or semifinals. I am probably wrong, but that is my hunch.

     

    Spain will be tough, but I think their time has passed. Their core is four years older, with some (Pujols) retired. I think they too will lose in the quarters or semifinals.

     

    Germany will be very tough. They are my pick to win it all. They have an excellent coach, and a veteran core. However, they do have injury questions (Lahm, Sweinsteiger, etc.). If the injuries are an issue, it could prevent them from even advancing out of the group stage. They are in a very tough group.

     

    My dark horse team? France. They went home with their tails between their legs in 2010. They are talented and hungry.

     

    Second dark horse? Argentina. They are talented and due.

     

    So, my choices: #1 Germany, #2 France, #3 Argentina, #4 Brazil

  7. After reading through all of the mystery surrounding Lafontaine's departure, I suddenly had an idea:

     

    What if Patty made a serious mistake (which even good people do from time to time), something so serious that an immediate termination was warranted. Moreover, because the error was so egregious and embarrassing, either Lafontaine, the Sabres, or both parties, desired a confidentiality agreement signed in order to protect all parties.

     

    What kind of mistake would warrant this? What kind of mistake would warrant immediate termination, and a mutual muzzling of all parties?

     

    A possibility: an affair with another man's wife in the organization. Once discovered, Patty would want it hushed to protect his reputation, if not his marriage. The organization would want it hushed to protect itself from having its name tarnished. And the other man would want to protect his name, as well as perhaps that of his wife.

     

    Just a shot in the dark, but it seems plausible to me.

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