The one about…giving up the gift of gab

Things are changing for Maxim Lapierre.

He’s 27-years-old and maturing before our very eyes. Outwardly, he’s still Mad Max: talking a big game and backing it up in everything he does. Inwardly his actions tell a different story of how far he’s come during his time in Vancouver alone.

He’s found the one, Natasha, and is settling down. He wants to have kids, four to be exact. He bought a new house a few years ago and moved his parents next door to be close to family. All this, though, is nothing compared to the biggest change that will go down this fall when hockey returns.

“People don’t realize how much energy it takes being focused on talking to the other team all the time,” said Lapierre, hands on the wheel, foot on the pedal of his Range Rover. “It’s exhausting and I’m done with it.”

Re-read that last paragraph if you have to. I know I had to listen to the audio a few times to make sure I got it right.

One of the kings of trash talk is retiring from the yak game.

“I’d say I cut down to half of my regular talking last season,” he said. “But next year will be even better. I want to play a tough game, fight when I have to fight, and hit, but I’m done putting extra stress on the refs with my talking. I’m going to stop it. I can still play the same type of game, but the after the whistle thing, I’m totally done with that.

“It’s fun, don’t get me wrong, but at some point you have to realize it’s 82 games a year for seven years. I don’t even know what to say anymore to be honest, I’ve said everything.”

You could tell a guy that it used to be called a jumpoline before yo’ momma went on it, I thought to myself, chuckling, not realizing how serious Lapierre was.

“You should just compliment people instead,” quipped Rory, filming from the passenger seat.

Without hesitation, Lapierre jumped all over the suggestion.

“That’s what I’m going to do this year,” Lapierre stated. “‘Hey buddy, how was your summer?’ They’re going to be so confused. ‘I hope you had a great family summer!’”

Clearly Lapierre hasn’t lost his sense of humour all together. That’s a good thing. But he is a man on a mission in terms of cutting the gift of gab out of his game.

“At one point early on I realized that every player is good and to get into the NHL you have to do something to have the people’s attention and catch their eye. You’ve got to find a way to stay in the NHL and every player can shoot, every player can skate, so I started to talk. Now I’m done with that. For good.”

Talking the talk like never before.

The one about…the couch

Walk into Chez Lapierre, go past the twirly stairs that lead to the second floor and take a right. You’ll head down a staircase to a pimped out basement that is every guy’s dream. Jerseys on the wall, a remarkable home theatre setup, D-box seats, a trophy room – you name it, he’s got it.

One of the most comfortable couches my bottom has ever had the pleasure of meeting makes watching movies a dream for the couple, but as Lapierre explained, moving the large white leather beauty to the basement was a nightmare.

He lead me back up the stairs, bent down and pointed to a bruise in the wall that I somehow missed.

“Tasha and I decided we wanted to move the couch from upstairs to downstairs the other day,” he chuckled. “We got to this point on the stairs when we realized it’s a two man job, like for two strong men. That’s why there’s the big dent in the wall. The couch was actually stuck on the stairs for 15 minutes, with Tasha kind of stuck with it. I had to call Guillaume Latendresse to come help me move it. Thankfully he lives close by and was able to come help.”

Natasha was not injured in the couch incident.

The one about…how they almost died

The best story of our breakfast with Maxim Lapierre and Jean-Francois is one that dates back to the 2004-05 QMJHL season with the pair playing for the Prince Edward Island Rocket and Alain Vigneault their head coach.

“We show up for practice one morning,” began Jean-Francois. “It’s February in PEI, it’s very volatile weather down there and this one morning the sun was out, no snow on the ground, it was nice. We put on our team jackets and sweat pants and sneakers, light gloves, and go to practice for a few hours.

“We leave the rink and it’s hell out there. Cars are covered in snow; literally you couldn’t see the roofs. Max was driving a 1994 beat up Hyundai two-door, one of the best pieces of crap I’ve ever seen, and we can’t even see it. Alain pulled up in his shiny SUV ready to do donuts around everyone, and said he would give us a ride to our billets.

“We jumped in. Max’s billets had just moved to a new place on a farm and so Alain asked if the snowplow would have gone through the street there. Max said he didn’t know. When we got close, Alain said he didn’t want to take a chance at getting stuck, so he dropped us off nearby, but we still had a little walk. We start walking and it turns out we really misjudged how far of a walk it was, we were like a mile and a half away.

“Picture this: 30-mile an hour winds coming at you, ice falling off everywhere, snow coming up to your knees, you’re dressed lightly and tired from practice. I’m pretty sure I saw the light at the end of the tunnel at one point. It was crazy.”

Lapierre, laughing hysterically, added: “He just kept saying: ‘I’m cold, I’m cold, I’m cold.’ It’s like a line from the movies.”

Jean-Francois continued: “We finally got to the billets and I removed my gloves and they took 12 hours to thaw.

“Then the next day Alain fined us for not being dressed in proper winter gear. I’ll never forget that. I don’t think he knows that story.

“Alain, if you’re reading this, we almost died. We didn’t, so we were more than happy to pay that fine.”

The one about…the stinky tongue

Jean-Francois was ready when the question as asked.

“You want stories, oh I’ve got stories,” he laughed, moments after sitting down to join us for breakfast Sunday morning.

“We were playing junior together in PEI,” said JF. “We got creamed the night before by Rimouski and we weren’t supposed to practice the next morning, we were supposed to travel to Bathurst, but Alain Vigneault, he was our coach back then, wasn’t too pleased with our performance so he made us skate the next morning.

“He didn’t think we were tough enough the night before, so he made us do all contact drills in practice. We were doing this one drill and I was going up against one of our big goons and next thing you know I’ve got a puddle of blood in my mouth. I didn’t know what was going on so I went back to the line and Max told me I didn’t look too good. I opened my mouth to talk but I had bit through my tongue and I had no tongue left. They had to stitch it back together.”

The table fell silent.

Yuck.

Then Maxim Lapierre chimed in with the icky details.

“I used to pick him up for practice from his billets house and when we were driving in the morning, we had to put the windows down and put our heads out of the car because it was so stinky,” roared Lapierre.

“He couldn’t open his mouth because of the stitches and it was infected and he couldn’t brush his teeth. It was terrible. It was that stinky.”

Added Jean-Francois: “That’s a story for all you ladies at home.”

Canucks Prospect Camp Photo du Jour - Day 1

On the left, a prospect begins an excruciating test. On the right, a group of prospects chill after finishing the test.

Stack the goalie

It’s time I came clean.

I love dinosaurs.

You do too, or you don’t, but I’ll pretend you do because that means we’re friends, friends who discuss dinosaurs.

When I was shuffling through the file folders that made their way onto my desk a few weeks ago, a handful of Vancouver Canucks almost mascots surfaced. I used that information to write this story, in celebration of Fin and his 11th birthday.

This photo gallery portrayed some of the mascots the Canucks almost went with instead of Fin; they’re outrageous to say the least and I can’t imagine a world with any of them as a stand in for Fin…except Stack.

Please allow me to introduce you to Stack the Goalie. He’s a styracosaurus (Ancient Greek for Spiked Lizard) and a pretty bad ass one at that. He’s a goalie, who, because of his large horn and frills, doesn’t need a mask, he stops pucks with his handy head shield and uses his trademark stack of the pads to stop shots. His pads even form a smiley face when pressed together. Groovy.

He’s everything a mascot should be and more - he’s a dinosaur. Sorry, I realize the Ross from Friends is really coming out of me right now, but there’s just something about dinosaurs that gets my attention. It likely relates back to watching Jurassic Park in the theater as a kid right after my dad had taken my brother and I to buy marbles, but I digress.

While I’m glad the Canucks mascot is Fin, Stack would have been a solid second choice. But there’s no connection to the Canucks… I realize that, but you’re missing the point.

He’s a dinosaur!

Here are a few more exclusive photos of Stack. Try to enjoy them as much as I do.

Googled

On Friday, May 20, 2011, the Vancouver Canucks rolled out of bed, put their game faces on and began preparing for Game 3 of the Western Conference Final against the San Jose Sharks.

Having won Games 1 & 2 in Vancouver by a combined score of 10-5, the Canucks were feeling good about themselves as they gathered outside the hotel in San Jose waiting for the team bus to take them to morning skate.

That’s when the Sharks made their move. According to a rumour I am making up right now, the Sharks partnered with Google, some kind of world wide web search machine based out of California, to turn the tide. They had the Google Map Vehicle photograph the Canucks in order to steal their souls to give San Jose an advantage for Game 3.

What happened in Game 3? The Sharks won 4-3 and were briefly back in the series.

Coincidence, I think not.

Below is the Google Streetview of the Canucks, just innocently chillin’, before their souls were scooped up.

Thankfully the Canucks were able to get back on track in Game 4 and in Game 5, oh glorious Game 5, confetti rained down from above in Rogers Arena to mark a monumental win. And that’s all I remember from how last season ended.

Funny thing is, the vehicle went past the Canucks twice and the first time, realizing the incredible opportunity at hand, everyone made faces and threw up G-rated hand gestures. Google went with take #2.

Here are some of Jeff Vinnick’s Behind the Lens photos from during the Google soul-stealing photoshoot, paired with what Google captured. Vinnick on the left, Google on the right.

And no, I don’t know where I am in all of this. I require more beauty rest than most, so likely still sleeping. Truth be told, I’m more of an Ask Jeeves man myself.

Big shout out to THE_LAW 10 from the Canucks message boards for discovering this Google Map.