Air Force’s Kyle Haak possesses global vision

(Photo by Paat Kelly)

Senior forward Kyle Haak has roamed frequently and far during his four years with the Air Force Academy. But now that his tasks, on campus and elsewhere, are winding down in volume, he has recommitted to making it known the AFA holds a special place in his heart.

“Beyond our play on the ice, I am also enjoying the little things off the ice too, such as the road trips with the team and the practices,” Haak told Pucks and Rec. “I will miss this group when I graduate soon.”

Haak is nothing if not a seasoned veteran when it comes to travel. Beyond 42 career out-of-town weekends around the Lower 48 plus Alaska with the Falcons hockey team, he has been around the world in pursuit of improving others’ lives.

Per an Air Force press release, Haak filled out his 2018 summer journal as follows: “completed an internship with Fluence Corporation in Caesarea, Israel, attended the International Desalination Association “Water Re-Use” Conference in Valencia, Spain, studied alternative energy in Reykjavik, Iceland and studied nuclear energy at Oak Ridge National Labs in Tennessee.”

“These experiences all have to do with using alternative forms of energy,” he explained. “I have learned about various ways of harnessing energy in all of these work experiences. However, beyond energy, the desalination projects I have worked on consist of removing salt from salt water. I have also explored how to produce electricity without greenhouse gas emissions.”

These endeavors garnered Haak a nomination for NCAA men’s hockey’s Lowe’s Senior CLASS Award. The award recognizes student-athletes on the criteria of excellence in the classroom, character development, community service and competition.

Haak continues a dense string of Air Force ambassadors to the award’s hockey candidate pool. The Okemos, Mich. native is the 11th Falcon to become a top-10 finalist in the past 13 years.

“It is a big honor,” said Haak, who played with thee prior candidates from the AFA. “I am nominated with many amazing people. I remember Dylan Abood being nominated, who I respect very much.”

(Photo by Paat Kelly)

 

Last season, Abood distinguished himself by working at MIT Lincoln, designing a portable solar power system to assist with disaster relief. The year prior, Johnny Hrabovsky likewise cracked the award’s top 10.

In addition, when Haak was a freshman, Falcons goaltender Chris Dylewski garnered the Hockey Humanitarian Award. Dylewski’s community-service highlights included founding RISE, a nonprofit that teaches young people how to serve their communities. He also created Operation Safe, an organization focused on genocide and mass atrocities awareness.

While furthering Air Force’s presence on the ballot, Haak possesses a strong sense of humility in realizing there is much to be done around the world.

“All of these unique work experiences showed me how intricate and complex issues such as water’s availability is and how often it only goes to people who can afford it,” he said. “These experiences pushed me to become interested in policy-making and how we can make water available for all people.

“I think these experiences have led me to learn more about myself and the world. I have spent a lot of time traveling and learning how complex the world and its cultures are. It has been a humbling experience to work in so many parts of the world.”

With his head on a swivel between the present and future, Haak hopes to further his involvement in these causes through graduate programs. But he still has a small, yet significant block of space to fill on his undergraduate resume, which is already radiant as it is.

 

“I think these experiences have led me to learn more about myself and the world. I have spent a lot of time traveling and learning how complex the world and its cultures are. It has been a humbling experience to work in so many parts of the world.” – Kyle Haak

Beyond his notable accomplishments away from Colorado Springs, Haak distinguishes himself on campus. He is the Academy’s reigning Cadet of the Year, having been declared 2018’s most outstanding student in a body of 16,000.

“I think that being selected for this honor is a testament to the support I have been given since I have arrived at Air Force,” he said. “Hockey coaches, academic advisors and others have assisted me in all of the projects I have done, and I know I couldn’t do anything alone.”

This commitment to collaboration spills over into Haak’s volunteer efforts in the Colorado Springs community.

“I think in all of the service projects I have done, it has been a group effort,” said Haak. “We always volunteer for one event in the fall as a hockey squadron. These service projects showcase how much help we can do together when you bring your community together to do something good. It is a great thing to be a part of.”

In his time at Air Force, Haak has volunteered with Marion House Soup Kitchen to help feed the homeless (as did Abood), assisted families with special-needs children and worked with the American Red Cross to install fire detectors.

Beyond those accomplishments, Haak remains focused on what he and the Falcons can continue to achieve on the ice. With only a weekend home set against Holy Cross remaining in the regular season, Air Force sits third in the Atlantic Hockey standings.

Home ice is safe for the first round of the conference tournament. With that said, if the well-traveled Haak is to make at least one more excursion with his fellow pucksters, they must capitalize on that advantage. Having won each of the last two AHA playoff titles and been to the subsequent NCAA regionals, the Falcons crave another step.

“As a team, we look to get better each year,” said Haak, the team’s second leading scorer with 21 points and top goal-getter with 12. “We focus on each day and look for opportunities to win, whether that is in our conference, regionally or even nationally.”

-          John Morton

Wallaby Wednesday: Heffer made G.I. Jimbo an American Guernica

Only an Andy Warhol lookalike can settle the score over a disfigured G.I. Jimbo doll’s artistic value. (Hat tip to YouTube user x1mastershake1x for assuring this author he is not alone in seeing that semblance.)

For most of Rocko’s garage sale in “Junk Junkies,” the unnamed customer stands alone, staring at Heffer’s contribution. He says nothing, and his expression leaves his take on the badly melted action figure ambiguous. Although, in retrospect, his lingering and gaping for untold hours bodes well for a sale.

Going in, however, a sale is made to seem out of the question. When Heffer unveils the character doll, Rocko’s rationale matches that of Andy Stitzer in The 40-Year-Old Virgin.

A high-profile item like that is only a sound commodity as long as it stays in mint condition. Having seen repeated action on Heffer’s kitchen stove, this G.I. Jimbo appears to have long lost its collectibility.

Heffer’s counterpoint is weak, as he merely offers an implied G.I. Jimbo theme song. But at the 11th hour for Rocko’s pizza bill — the garage sale’s premise — the customer speaks and secures an upset. Not to mention, his offer of $500 single-handedly relieves Rocko’s debt.

For a kid who has yet to take an art history class, this twist may come across as humorously nonsensical. How could anyone declare a melted, misshapened action figure “brilliant,” let alone worth $500?

But when one absorbs the customer’s words, then considers a powerful Pablo Picasso painting, the sale is a no-brainer. To the more educated eye, the childhood mirage of ridiculousness gives way to a genuine reflectiveness.

Guernica, Picasso’s 1937 commentary on the Spanish Civil War, cannot help coming to a cultured mind here. Even without any references to the painting, the same idea has clearly sunk in for Heffer’s customer. Overwhelmed, he takes the toy to Rocko and touts “The humanity! The anger! The pain!”

Picasso conveyed those same themes when he illustrated a war’s impact on his homeland’s military, civilians and livestock. Per pablopicasso.org, “Guernica shows the tragedies of war and the suffering it inflicts upon individuals, particularly innocent civilians. This work has gained a monumental status, becoming a perpetual reminder of the tragedies of war, an anti-war symbol, and an embodiment of peace.”

In his reckless child’s play, Heffer has unwittingly done the same, albeit with the image of an American soldier.

Through constant burner exposure, G.I. Jimbo’s mouth and at least one nostril have shifted to his left. His left eyeball has dropped to divide said mouth and what appears to be melted cheek fat. Both of his legs rise the way one’s arms ought to at a rave. His left arm (or at least the arm positioned to the left post-melting) breaks off after another “crash.”

Likewise, in Guernica, people and animals alike bear out-of-sync limbs and facial features. Of particular note, an onlooking bovine figure’s horns have shifted to the right of its crown while one ear sits directly above its left eye.

Guernica’s human figures variously gape at an off-panel horror, sprawl in pain or try to carry on through visible wounds. In two cases, neck-breakingly tilted heads mark one hint at lives being turned upside down. Others suffer more bluntly with the still-visible presence of weapons or uncontrolled fire.

With his limbs literally turned upside down by a stove’s flame, G.I. Jimbo signifies a war-weary country and fighter. Heat-induced chemical changes to the doll’s configuration illuminate a veteran’s lasting internal scars. Although, based on the lauding purchaser’s string of paradoxical comments, it arguably conveys a soldier’s pride and perseverance as well.

Anyone who knows Heffer can conclude he was not considering the potentiality of anyone interpreting the wreckage that way. When he dismisses Rocko’s statement that the toy is “broken,” he overlooks the depreciation and focuses on the brand. In his view, G.I. Jimbo can bounce back from anything and remain a “cash cow.”

But an item’s collectability differs from a work of art’s value as a thought-provoking symbol. As flattered as he must be by the substantial offer, Heffer looks as perplexed as Rocko when the customer walks away saying, “It’s frenetic, yet calm. Emotional, yet slightly pragmatic. A never-ending, twisted enigma of pain and joy.”

In that sense, as ludicrous as this will also sound on the surface, Heffer shares one common thread with Picasso. The Guernica painter had insisted that he was not steering specific interpretations of his choice of imagery.

As quoted in PBS’ Treasures of the World, the artist said, “If you give a meaning to certain things in my paintings it may be very true, but it is not my idea to give this meaning. What ideas and conclusions you have got I obtained too, but instinctively, unconsciously. I make the painting for the painting. I paint the objects for what they are.”

Similarly, Heffer gets G.I. Jimbo to its $500 state by playing with the toy for what it was. It is an on-duty soldier, so he sent it to combat in any dangerous, adverse setting he could get away with.

He never meant to, let alone thought he would, affect its saleability that way. Before and after the shape-shifting stove tours, he sees no gore, only glory. Even after the sale, he breaks into another song about G.I. Jimbo’s heroics and invincibility.

Regardless, in a serendipitous sequence, he has taken a toll on the toy to the point where it wins over a man moved by antiwar art. For once, the image alone does make an adequate substitute for words before they come.

Wallaby Wednesday: What is driving the Sani-Tours guide?

The Sani-Tours bus driver on Rocko’s Modern Life sees (or chooses to see) nothing special about Paris. He will use his position to give his customers the same impression, and take any necessary risks to sustain that.

“If word of this gets out, I’ll be ruined,” he frets after Rocko, his only uncooperative customer in “I See London, I See France,” breaks off from the tour. He then claims he has a family depending on him, albeit while staring at a fruit-bowl painting.

Secondary stakeholders or not, the diver will not change his approach to his job. Whether he is doing what Sani-Tours higher-ups expect or trying to avoid exposing his subpar credentials as an international tour leader is unclear.

Either way, he eschews any uniquely Parisian attractions. He is equally strict about such insubordinate acts as talking out of turn or solo sightseeing.

By breaking both of those rules, if nothing else, Rocko threatens the guide’s sense of power. The driver’s job security aside, he exudes insecurity over his not-so-top-notch knowledge of Paris. No passenger is to demonstrate a deeper erudition, let alone encourage others to expand their own.

Based on his accent, the tour guide is American, and his customers implicitly share that nationality. That is except for Rocko, a born-and-raised Australian and naturalized U.S. citizen.

Based on their conduct, everyone else goes in with a tabula rasa for their familiarity with France and its capital. Having now crossed two oceans in his young life, Rocko is an understandable outlier. He has ample experience being the stranger in a given land, and is more open-minded for it.

But as the pre-tour dialogue confirms, the driver intends to fill his customers’ minds with empty calories. He dodges Rocko’s inquiry of when the Eiffel Tower falls on their itinerary, the only question anyone offers.

The ensuing “sightseeing” drive accentuates the unremarkable similarities between the French city and American suburbia.

Granted, some methods of showing how other locations are just like home can have a unifying effect. A Sani-Tours excursion, however, purposely defeats the purpose of flying across the Atlantic to experience Paris in person. In so doing, it dashes the hopes of one, if not two tour takers.

As Rocko and Heffer descend at the start of “I See London, I See France,” they plan to immerse themselves. Rocko cannot contain his excitement for every cultural aspect that sets the locale apart. While Heffer’s preparation is comparatively less enthused, he is at least trying to master French phrases.

The guide bursts both bubbles by muffling the majesty and keeping everyone on the bus for most of the journey. The only extraordinary sense he will allow is the empty aura everyday visuals acquire by being in a foreign location. Otherwise, he either selects “points of interest” that are on the same plane as common U.S. sites or subtly attempts to convey that America is still better.

To that point, he only lets his riders off the bus when they stop for lunch. Naturally, he treats them to a Paris-based Chokey Chicken restaurant. As he states over his bullhorn, the chain’s location has been in place for barely a decade by that time.

Regardless, he tries to pass off the spread as “authentic French cuisine,” and only Rocko sees through the fraud.

Apparently, for everybody else, anything they eat on the tour qualifies as French cuisine. The food at hand need only be made, served and consumed in France.

In addition, selecting a Parisian Chokey Chicken location denotes the guide’s hidden message of unconditional American supremacy. Why would the French want to bring a popular U.S. chain to their soil unless their own cookery was inferior?

To that point, earlier on the drive, the guide distinguishes the locals and tourists by claiming the former eat pigeons. When he delivers this nugget of information, he stresses the word “eat” with a hint of disgust.

Similarly, when he changes the subject to headgear, he opines that “they sure wear some crazy hats in Paris. They call it fashion. I call it stupid-looking.”

He is in the middle of that meaningless monologue when Rocko calls attention to the Eiffel Tower exit. In response, the driver furiously mocks “No. 11” for proposing “a big fat visit to the Eiffel Tower.”

With this flare-up, he stops short of calling his passenger pretentious for highlighting a genuine Parisian landmark. Even without that declaration, he reaffirms his restriction against learning or teaching anything compelling. That policy is pivotal toward his interest in sustaining his sense of control over his customers.

As such, his next eruption comes when the post-lunch roll call exposes Rocko’s defection. When Heffer makes his own break, the guide decides to “deviate our pre-established route,” the very proposal that earned “No. 11” the earlier tongue-lashing. At this point, chasing “No. 13” through the city is more important.

The driver goes so far as to follow Heffer through the halls of an art museum. As he does this, he scowls at the paintings that land on his windshield, wiping them aside like splattered bugs. Unfortunately for his agenda, the remaining passengers take photos of other works visible from the side windows.

On the whole, the driver is fighting a losing battle. He concedes as much to a medium extent by putting his perilous pursuit on hold.

How Heffer manages to outrun the bus before the driver loses him is the storyline’s greatest mystery. But when he and Rocko reunite at the Eiffel Tower, the guide’s absence is perfectly explicable.

If he did not want to go near the celebrated structure before, he will not want to go there now. There at least a dozen tourists still on his bus versus the two who have broken off. He is not inclined to corner the latter pair if doing so risks awakening the other riders’ intellectual curiosity.

With that said, he is not surrendering outright. He reappears at the episode’s ending, having resumed his chase and followed Rocko and Heffer to the airport.

The runway is no more of a deterrent to his bus than the museum’s halls. As long as the setting is not too cultured, he will go there to get tourists back in his anti-enrichment clutches.

Nothing doing this time. The two O-Townies are on their way back. Whether they spread the good word of in-person Paris or the not-so-good word of Sani-Tours, both specters will surely haunt the driver.

Wallaby Wednesday: Did Rocko save Filburt’s love life before it started?

In 1969, Monty Python’s aspiring lumberjack loses a lot with his song. A quarter-century later, Rocko potentially stops Filburt from making the same mistake.

Rocko and his teeth make a selfless sacrifice when he insists on grabbing a soda with Filburt.

For his personal sake, the timing could not be worse. He is moments removed from repositioning his cavity-stricken tooth after it mutated and rampaged through O-Town amidst Filburt’s dental final.

Fortunately, Gordon the foot makes a subsequent disclaimer that Rocko had his seamless oral health restored by a certified dentist. Whether the wallaby indulged in an acidic, sugary beverage in between is thus a minor long-term detail.

Regardless, little does he know the long-term favor he does Filburt by preempting the turtle’s proposed song about sweeping chimneys. Without that ending to Season 1’s “Rinse and Spit,” several later episodes might not be have been possible. Not the least among those include Season 3’s two-part “The Big Question/Answer” and Season 4’s “From Here to Maternity.”

To understand why, you have to know Monty Python, the revolutionary British sketch squad.

Once you see both “Rinse and Spit” and the Monty Python’s Flying Circus episode “The Ant, an Introduction,” you appreciate the parallels. Just as Filburt never had an interest in dentistry, Michael Palin’s troubled character did not want to be a barber. Their respective dreamy monologues about sweeping chimneys and lumberjacking effortlessly evoke one another. Whether the January 1994 segment or December 1969 sketch does the reminding depends on which you saw first.

The crucial difference is that Terry Jones, Palin’s last barbershop customer, lets his acquaintance sing. As a result, Palin divulges some discomfiting interests that, fairly or unfairly, turn off his friends and girlfriend. The latter (Connie Booth) breaks down and breaks up with him for suddenly not seeming as “rugged” as she thought.

There is no telling whether Filburt’s song would have endangered, let alone doomed, his budding relationship with Dr. Hutchison. But given the saga’s subsequent events, that mystery is better off left as it is.

The best-case scenario for Filburt and Hutchison will come to fruition. Thanks to Rocko, we never see the earliest worst-case scenario.

Whether it comes from growing up in a Commonwealth nation or otherwise, Rocko is implicitly more familiar with Python. As such, he knows what Filburt is risking and does not hesitate to stop him. All he needs to do is remind him of his post-test plans for a soda and add, “No song.”

If not for that interruption, the faithful remake of “The Lumberjack Song” may have yielded revelations Hutchison might not have been ready for. Sure, by Season 4’s “Closet Clown” neither she nor anyone else bats at at his admission to “wearing European-style undergarments.”

But by that point, the two are married with quadruplets. And while Filburt has not abandoned all of his arguably quirky or less-than-age-appropriate ventures, he clearly gave up whatever he needed to make his relationship work.

Conversely, “Rinse and Spit” is the Rocko canon’s first look at Hutchison, let alone Filburt’s interest in her. And even if no one else knows about the latter yet, Rocko gets a reliable hint. Before starting his dental final, Filburt points to his then-professor and whispers, “Isn’t she cute?”

Despite their nearly concluded teacher-student dynamic, Filburt and Hutchison have a lot to learn about one another. Their romance is not even in a primordial stage, as Filburt’s first step is offering her a soda. His hopes of making a sound impression on her are too delicate for awkward, deeply personal details.

Just like his occupational preferences, Filburt’s repellant secrets may differ from those of Palin’s aspiring lumberjack. But potential turn-offs to a would-be lover range far beyond cross-dressing and bar-hopping.

As another Python project, The Life of Brian, reminds us, “we’re all individuals” and “all different.” Not yet knowing Hutchison beyond dental school, Filburt must start small in learning more about her before spilling his secrets.

As it happens, after Filburt relents to Rocko’s advice, he and Hutchison do not appear simultaneously again for a year. By the time they do, they are close enough to spend Christmas together, implicitly without any other friends or family.

Hutch’s next appearance after that comes in “Kiss Me I’m Foreign,” when she sadly agrees to a break. With that said, by the segment’s end, the two restore their relationship, as Filburt ends his faux marriage with Rocko. This time they have made a comparatively small sacrifice to preserve their Australian friend’s stay in America (which was mistakenly imperiled anyway).

Beyond that, two more Filburt-Hutchison crossovers precede “The Big Question.” Apart from annoying her with his malingering in “Bye Bye Birdie,” he displays nothing that could remotely threaten their relationship.

As their love grows and strengthens, they keep a low shared profile in the two-plus years between “Rinse and Spit” and “The Big Question.” That decision pays dividends, as they resist their contentious families’ petty objections and go through with the wedding.

By taking that approach to his love life, Filburt has clearly let Rocko’s subtle advice sink in. As his romantic storyline proves, he learns that some things are best kept under wraps.

And so, we never hear of his chimney-sweeping aspirations again. But we see plenty of him and Hutch, first as a couple and then as parents to boot.

That tradeoff, which comes with odd jobs and hobbies in other fields, is inarguably worth making. Even if Rocko has to temporarily exacerbate his cavity so he can persuade Filburt to start on the better path.

Best of Boston Sports sequel should be a question of when, not if

In November 2005, City of Champions: The Best of Boston Sports made a nice, timely move with a self-explanatory purpose. But its execution left more to be desired, and there has since been much more to cover under its roof.

Twice in barely three months, whether to their elation or exasperation, sports followers have reset their count-up of days without a Boston Duck Boat parade. For the second time in as many decades, the Patriots have won the Super Bowl immediately following a Red Sox World Series conquest.

After the first of those occurrences, Rabid Films and Warner Bros. unleashed City of Champions: The Best of Boston Sports. As if the circumstances in between were not conducive to an addendum, this past year’s developments are.

Conceptually, the first Best of Boston Sports DVD was nothing short of sensible. When it came out in November 2005, the long-moribund Patriots had just won three titles in four seasons. The afterglow of the Sox’ historic 2004 Curse-busting run had barely tapered off.

And then there were glimpses of more distant memories and figures. The most notable was a tribute to Ted Williams, who had passed away three years prior. Larry Bird and Bobby Orr, among others, also got decent mentions and retrospectives on one of their defining moments.

Since then, though, all of the market’s four time-honored major professional franchises have piled on an embarrassment of new memories. With that, dating back to 2002, the city has not gone longer than three years without a championship. As of this writing, that hot streak cannot cool off until February 2022 at the earliest.

In this calendar decade, the Boston area has also gained a pair of professional women’s hockey teams. Before moving to Worcester for this season, the CWHL’s Boston Blades won two Clarkson Cups, beating Montreal both times. In 2016, the NWHL’s Boston Pride won the inaugural Isobel Cup over Buffalo.

But even 13-plus years ago, there were signs of spoilage among viewers. On New Year’s Eve 2005, Robert Spuhler of DVD Talk submitted an unfavorable review of The Best of Boston Sports.

In its defense, the basic execution was far better than nothing. Incidentally, that was exactly what Boston’s pro sports scene had in the way of championships for years before 2002. Maybe that was why the 2005 project fell short of champagne-worthy. Perhaps New England had forgotten how to handle summit-level success in sports.

Regardless, Spuhler accentuated the DVD’s aspects that did not do the market’s newfound merry mood justice. He harped on the “lazy” soundtrack selections and incomplete scope of content. He singled out the Beanpot and the Marathon as two traditions deserving more attention.

Spuhler’s conclusion: “If this is the first in a series, it is a great idea. City of Champions: The Best of Boston Sports is the type of disc that could, with some work, be a hot seller to the diehard sports fan. But if it is a one-off just to celebrate Boston's recent success, the city deserved better.”

One nursery-to-junior-high upbringing and a full variety pack of eight (or 11, or even 15 if you count NCAA hockey) championships later, it is still a one-off. But it is never too late to change that fact, even if another company takes on the sequel.

Given all of the memorable moments — not all of which are championships — that have befallen Boston since 2005, the soil is patently fertile to make this a series. The chief question is whether to wait until Tom Brady and/or Bill Belichick retire. And there is an emphatic lack of a timetable for that right now.

The Patriots quarterback and coach have been the scene’s lone constants in their respective roles throughout this thrill ride. Regardless of their legacies’ legitimacy, ardent New England fans will surely want a segment dedicated to each.

As it is, the existing Best of Boston Sports barely had time to squeeze in highlights of the Pats’ third Super Bowl victory. The market’s pigskin posse has since doubled its all-time banner count to six. It attained its fourth and fifth titles on a last-play interception and historic rally for overtime, respectively.

Before that, it went 16-0 in the 2007 regular season and nearly consummated its perfect slate in the 2008 playoffs. (Hey, the first DVD did not shy away from Boston/New England’s crushing defeats. Why should any hypothetical sequels?)

Meanwhile, the Red Sox have tacked on three more World Series titles in the last 13 years. The catalyst of two of those runs, David Ortiz, has since retired. As such, the Brady and Belichik segments might as well wait for a third film, leaving more room for Big Papi.

After all, even with three rings and bountiful clutch hits, Ortiz’s impact on the region stretches deep into intangible territory. The last championship he played in capped off an emotional 2013 season that began with the Boston Marathon bombing. If any single sentence sums up that storyline, it is his “This is our (expletive) city!” rally cry.

 

At some point, this obligatory sequel will need a segment on what it means to be Boston Strong. It must capture how, despite the horrific circumstances, the locals collectively rediscovered the meaning of Patriots’ Day (aka Marathon Monday). It must illustrate how, with the help of the Sox, Bruins and Celtics, they seized the opportunity to show they were not afraid to carry on with their way of life.

And of course, the two TD Garden cohabitants have each raised a banner of their own since 2005. In both cases, it was the team’s first title since leaving the old Boston Garden, a move many once believed had robbed them of an irreplaceable home-ice/court advantage. In addition, their respective rides included a triumphant playoff series against their most time-honored rivals.

With the 2008 Celtics, you had a throwback to the 1980s with a six-game NBA Final ouster of the Los Angeles Lakers. Three springs later, the Bruins overcame the Montreal Canadiens as their first of four obstacles to the Stanley Cup. (The final victory over Vancouver halted the Hub’s longest 21st-century championship drought to date at 36 months.)

While the first Best of Boston Sports aptly highlighted the history of Red Sox-Yankees and Celtics-Pistons, other feuds were glaringly lacking. But a sequel would be a slam-dunk/empty-net opportunity to rectify that with C’s-Lakers and B’s-Habs segments.

A featurette on Boston College-Boston University hockey would not hurt either. The two schools constituting the Green Line Rivalry have combined for four Men’s Frozen Four championships since 2005. BC won three, and BU flipped a late 3-1 deficit into a 4-3 overtime victory in the 2009 final.

Selecting precise subject matter and exemplary moments to punctuate each segment would be an unenviable task. But the same essential format as the original, allowing any interviewee to weigh in on any entity or event, need not change. That approach lends The Best of Boston Sports its uniqueness, as it demonstrates the city’s camaraderie transcending all sports.

In spite of Spuhler’s critique, the absence of a narrator is not an inherent detriment. Most stories benefit crucially when a disembodied voice tells them, or at least bridges everyone’s input and insights. But for a special of this nature, letting the highlights and those who lived them speak suffices.

With The Best of Boston Sports, you had commentary from 10 athletes, executives, journalists and celebrity fans. Of those, Spuhler singles out Bruins record-holder Ray Bourque, BC and (briefly) Patriots quarterback Doug Flutie and innovative former Boston Globe sportswriter Peter Gammons among the highlights.

But Spuhler also questions the omission of Denis Leary, one of the most outspoken Sox and B’s fans alive. Excluding him from all future editions would be inexcusable compared to what the original can pass as a rookie shortcoming.

The one adopted Hollywood resident from New England, Mike O’Malley, was not a waste by any means. After all, he gained fame as ESPN’s “The Rick” and occasionally sported Boston gear as the host of Nickelodeon GUTS.

For the obligatory sequel, however, Leary would be indispensable. In the time since the original, his annual Comics Come Home bonanza, in conjunction with the Cam Neely Foundation, has entered its second and third decade. As of 2014, it has taken place at the Garden, the city’s largest indoor sports-and-entertainment facility.

 

Besides its tenants’ catching up with the Sox and Pats, the new Garden (nee FleetCenter) bears many measuring poles between 2005 and 2019. Three weeks after the DVD’s release, the Bruins traded captain and former first-overall draft pick Joe Thornton to San Jose.

Thornton is in one of the DVD’s two fleeting FleetCenter-era Bruins highlights. The other is of Bourque in his last game with the black and gold.

A month after Thornton left, Red Sox resident “caveman” Johnny Damon signed with the Yankees. On the first day of the following spring, Pats clutch kicker Adam Vinatieri similarly turned his coat to Indianapolis.

Since then, a too-long-to-list-everyone scroll of other notables have emerged, made their mark and moved on or retired. Coach Doc Rivers and the new Big Three with the Celtics. Two top-10 draft picks in Phil Kessel and Tyler Seguin of the Bruins. Another Sox-turned-Yanks centerfielder in Jacoby Ellsbury.

Those and others are more than enough for another Pete Yorn “Crystal Village” music video. Or something like that.

On the other hand, other local staples have left, then come back home. East Boston native Jermaine Wiggins helped the Pats to their first Super Bowl, then moved on to four other NFL teams before devoting this decade to various New England radio and TV gigs.

His continued recreational involvement in other sports is only one clue into his credibility as a commentator on the sports scene at large. And he is only one prospect (as is Leary) worthy of a chance to contribute to nearly every facet of an updated Best of Boston Sports.

There is no time like last year or the year prior or the year prior to start selecting interviewees. But the struggle as a memory preserver to keep up with great moments is one matter. Gaining ground on quality to match the subject matter and meet the likes of Spuhler’s standards is another.

As O’Malley predicted at the end of the 2005 presentation, being a Boston fan has only grown more “fun.” Any pro-, anti- or neutral observer can recognize that.

So someone ought to have the incentive to do one (or more) better than The Best of Boston Sports. It would easily reflect the way things have gotten better since the mid-2000s Sox/Pats revolution. (Speaking of which, would there be a way to make room for some soccer content?)

Miracle hits a melancholy milestone at its 15-year mark

One turning-point scene in Miracle is harder to watch, for half of its participants have left this world too soon.

After Tim Harrer (Adam Knight), a belated addition to Team USA’s tune-up tour roster, leaves the locker room, those who legitimately made the initial cut commiserate.

“This is ridiculous,” says defenseman Mike Ramsey (Joseph Cure).

Although his roster spot is implicitly the most threatened, Mike Eruzione (Patrick O’Brien Demsey) insists “it’ll be all right.” But when he turns to fellow Boston University product Jack O’Callahan (Michael Mantenuto), the temperamental Terrier takes a cynical viewpoint.

“He’s just messing with our minds,” O’Callahan says, assessing coach Herb Brooks’ (Kurt Russell) rationale.

At that point, a third BU alum, goaltender Jim Craig (Eddie Cahill), enlightens the other three men. He explains Brooks’ backstory as the last player cut from the previous gold-medalist U.S. Olympic team.

Upon absorbing Craig’s conclusion that Brooks will “do whatever it takes” to ensure the next American champion, the players formulate an effective case against Harrer’s inclusion. Four scenes later, another quartet — including Eruzione and O’Callahan — persuades Brooks to restore the process they had signed up for.

In one of the 2004 film’s few Hollywood liberties, Mark Johnson (Eric Peter-Kaiser) argues, “We’re a family.” With that, the on-ice clutch artist clinches the case, and Brooks admits he is closer to cementing his team. Both within the literal 20-player maximum limit and in a moral sense.

And as many cast and crew members have repeated, because it does bear repeating, the movie’s squad of skaters-turned-actors gelled in its own right. To that point, in a DVD special feature, director Gavin O’Connor predicted a succession of cast reunions.

Naturally, the conventional approach to that would be any anniversary divisible by five. As Wednesday marks 15 years since Miracle’s release, it will be the third opportunity for a commemoration of that kind.

But regardless of anyone’s formal or informal plans to observe that occasion, it comes under sorrowful circumstances. In the time since Miracle celebrated 10 years in the cinema archives, both Cure and Mantenuto have died.

Fellow player/actor Sasha Lukovic, who portrayed Soviet Union captain Boris Mikhailov, has passed on as well. Among real-life figures who made the story possible, we have lost former U.S. depth defenseman Bob Suter and USA Hockey executive Walter Bush.

Bush lived to be 86, and was three days shy of his 87th birthday. But his September 2016 passing was no less painful for that.

In a world of perfect moral comprehensibility, fellow participants in the occurrence or retelling of the story who have joined Bush in the next life would have stayed here long enough to watch at least one more generation grow up.

Wisconsin’s Suter was on the job at the rink he managed in Madison when he suffered a fatal heart attack. His September 2014 death was the first among the 20 players who generated the screenplay at Lake Placid in 1980.

 

At its completion and release, Miracle already had a bittersweet aura hovering over it. The narrative’s catalyst, Brooks, had perished in an automobile accident in August 2003. Six months before the film’s grand premiere, the coach’s funeral marked a players’ reunion everyone wished could have waited.

When paying viewers saw the movie, they were left with the best message they could receive under those circumstances. A note dedicating the project to Brooks’ memory concluded, “He never saw it. He lived it.”

With that, Miracle acknowledged its instant importance as a tribute to the extraordinary event Brooks made possible. In depicting the investment before the payoff, the movie itself made a point of replicating that rigors-reward pattern.

As such, for its 15th anniversary and beyond, it must also stand as a tribute to the likes of Cure, Mantenuto and Lakovic. Ditto Suter and Bush, whose own work ethic beget the opportunity for the cast and crew to show theirs.

Among those in the movie, it should also elicit memories of how they lived beyond their moment of fame. They each had their way of exemplifying the selfless off-ice, postgame conduct their sport tirelessly espouses.

Cure was a month away from turning 32 when he died in a November 2015 auto accident. The former Junior A player had scrapped his plans to pursue collegiate hockey when he learned of the movie’s tryouts/auditions.

Ramsey, his fellow Minnesotan, would be Cure’s lone film role, and he carried on with his studies afterward. Per LinkedIn, Cure had served as an EMT for the Global Athlete Village before enrolling in medical school. He was on pace to graduate from Montana State University in Bozeman with a degree in neuroscience in 2017.

Cure was the first Miracle movie Team USA player to lose his life. Within another year-and-a-half, the collective family mourned Mantenuto, whose death on April 24, 2017, was ruled a suicide.

Mantenuto, a one-time forward at the University of Maine, dabbled in acting for two more films. The man whose triumphant scream in character as O’Callahan graces the Miracle poster subsequently entered a more consequential patriotic endeavor. He would log seven years in the Army, rising to the rank of staff sergeant.

“Those of you that knew Mike will remember him for his passionate love for his family and his commitment to the health of the force,” wrote group commander Will Beaurpre in a Facebook statement two days after Mantenuto’s death.

 

In a long-form People obituary, one of Mantenuto’s former Army colleagues, identifying as Teena, told the magazine, “He was so much more than just a Miracle actor.”

Highlighting his side work in hockey clinics and programs for those combating substance abuse, she added, “He is such an amazing person…He has touched a lot of people’s lives.”

At 35, Mantenuto was survived by his wife and two children. The first of his offspring had been born during the filming of Miracle. To that point, according to the DVD’s feature commentary, Russell brought up the subject to help Mantenuto smile as O’Callahan in the scene where the blueliner learns his pre-tournament injury will not end his Olympic dream.

The day after Mantenuto’s passing, Lakovic died in his native Vancouver, six months after being diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. The veteran of 12 professional seasons, 37 NHL games and two movies (Miracle, Afghan Guards) was 45.

Like Cure with his medical studies and Mantenuto with his substance-abuse assistance, Lakovic made moves to improve people’s health and safety. In November 2015, he joined 23 fellow NHL retirees in a snowballing concussion-injury ligitation suit.

At that point, the man fans called “Pit Bull” spoke up invidually, telling CBC News, “If your kid ever hits the boards or tells you ‘dad, I’m not feeling so well,’ that’s a real message. I know a lot of parents want to see their kid make the NHL, but this is something you don’t want your kid to have.”

Lakovic’s passing prompted an outpouring of tributes, including from former teammates and fellow Vancouverite and fellow NHL scrapper of Serbian lineage Milan Lucic. In addition, the cruel coincidence of his death immediately following Mantenuto’s was hardly lost on Miracle viewers.

At the same time, there was some fond remembrance of his role in the movie. One user, Jon D. Allred, shared an on-set photo of Lakovic and Russell. That shot, among many other testaments, signified the unity of the cast even as they realistically recreated the competitive ferocity of the historic rivalry game.

Like the 1980 roster itself, the 2004 movie team scattered afterward. And while some members of the story’s grown family had their individual narratives cut short, they each genuinely represented that family while they could.

One can hope Brooks, Bush, Cure, Lakovic, Mantenuto and Suter will be able to share a Miracle anniversary screening in the Ultimate Skybox. They earned it.

Wallaby Wednesday: Did Mr. Smitty set up the Mt. Frosty misadventure?

Why send Rocko away on business unless you might make his journey profitable?

Granted, several pieces must fall into place, largely out of your control, for such a scheme to work. That is unless you have deep connections with the establishment keying the potential payoff, all but assuring success.

But even if the plan falls short, at least you have some solitude in the store for a time. Fulfilling the ulterior motive is savory green gravy.

This is the only explanation for the storyline of “Snowballs.” Mr. Smitty, the manager of Kind of a Lot O ’Comics, must know about Mt. Frosty, given its proximity to his supplier’s headquarters.

Perhaps through direct acquaintances, he knows of the resort’s underhanded ways of luring customers. If he lacks first-degree connections to Mt. Frosty, he has likely caught wind of its ways through his own travels to the comic-book dealer.

He is exactly the business-oriented personality type who would admire such trickery, if not emulate it as best he can. More crucially, he is in a position to take advantage of it for his own enterprise’s benefit.

To that point, he knows when Mt. Frosty will dare amateur skiiers to jump for a substantial cash prize.

From his perspective, it is a logical incentive to give his top (if not only) employee a questionable assignment. The task of acquiring a bulk order of comics is sensible enough on the surface. Although sending a representative to pick it up is an uncommon first resort. The other option is shelling out for shipping and handling to have the dealer deliver.

But this way, Rocko is out of sight, though presumably not long enough that his absence strains Smitty’s store operation. That alone gives the irascible purple toad a rare happy medium. It is worth giving him a travel budget on that front alone.

Where the dice fall on the payoff, however, hinges on Rocko deviating the task at hand. After all, that is the only way he can enter, let alone win the Mt. Frosty jump promotion.

But of course, he alone is too honest, shrewd and focused to make that ill-advised decision himself. If Smitty is going to force a detour, he will need to ensure the right travel partner to coax Rocko.

The first piece of the plan comes into play when Mt. Frosty personnel unleash a manmade avalanche. Incidentally, the bear-like lookout watches Rocko’s car pass by immediately before giving his colleague the initial cue.

Along for the ride, Heffer persuades Rocko to pass the road crew’s cleanup time at the neighboring ski resort. Unfortunately, the place’s deceptive “Everything for $5” policy traps the business traveler into squandering Smitty’s budget.

Rocko’s empty pocket renders him unable to pay an attendant when he wants to get off the dangerous Devil’s Crevice. Accordingly, he must go through with it, and his unsteady downhill slide leads him into the perilous contest.

The good news: He fulfills the challenge to “jump and win instantly” without even trying. The bad news: He ends up bandaged from head to toe, out of commission indefinitely.

As a smidgen of consolation, Heffer assures Rocko that he delivered the comics. While it is obvious already, he adds that winning the unquantified prize saved the day.

But from Smitty’s standpoint, is all well that ends well? Can he absolve Rocko for blowing the travel budget and disobeying his “no goofing off!” directive?

Per his sadistic nature, he will not necessarily express forgiveness, but he should feel it inside. After all, the entire “Snowballs” sequence reeks of a Smitty-type scheme.

While no one mentions the figure of the Mt. Frosty cash prize, it is likely five or six digits. It undoubtedly dwarfs the allowance Smitty had literally handed Rocko in cash.

In addition, as penurious as Smitty is, he clearly offers his employee(s) a decent salary and benefits. Although he has his share of financial-strain episodes, Rocko consistently maintains his own two-story house. And between his insurance coverage and out-of-pocket hospital costs, he still has something left from his prize.

Except it is technically not his prize. He wins it on the store’s time and dime. If necessary, his boss would surely lawyer up to argue that he jumped in the company’s name.

Given Rocko’s state of affairs after that inadvertent stunt, however, he is in no position to argue otherwise. Even if he were, he would not be the type to challenge his intimidating superior on those grounds. That is doubly the case when he knows he did not assert himself against Heffer’s request for their irresponsible diversion.

Of course, without that cave to peer pressure, the waste of time and money and eventual redemption would not happen. If Smitty is behind the misadventure at Mt. Frosty, he must have subtly pulled Heffer into the equation.

Heffer has spent enough time in the store for the boss to have a read on his inclinations. If nothing else, Smitty likely made sure to reiterate Rocko’s assignment within the steer’s earshot.

For good measure, he may have secretly informed Heffer of Mt. Frosty’s location on Rocko’s route. Or he might have made a more general reference to the mountains when reminding Rocko of his task.

The most he could have done to boost his odds is single out the Devil’s Crevice. After all, despite the obvious crowd during Heffer and Rocko’s visit, no one else is trying that stratospheric slope. Everyone else, including those back in O-Town, knows better. That would explain why it is free of charge, as opposed to all of the other $5 services.

Regardless, the idea is planted in the steer’s fruitcake-shaped head when he hops onto Rocko’s car at the episode’s outset. By that point in the saga (Season 2, Episode 12A), Rocko’s foolhardy friend has cemented his track record. Risky recreation is all but sure to ensue and build up like, well, a snowball.

In this case, Rocko pays the steepest price while Smitty has the technicalities on his side to collect the profits. If that gas-and-food per diem he chooses over shipping-and-handling fees was on the setback sheet, it is off now.

Flying discers ‘rolled with’ last-minute tournament overhaul

Even before the first toss-off of Saturday’s tournament, a test of adaptability befell every team in the Triangle Ultimate 15-and-under Open Division III. A late change in participation numbers prompted a tweak in the event’s format and in every party’s schedule.

“We just rolled with it,” said Luke Rugani, coach of the Montessori Community School team.

Originally, Rugani and the MCS Mustangs were to constitute one-quarter of Pool D, which would join Pool C in a playoff based on preliminary results.

Then one of the teams in the opposite pool withdrew, shrinking the collective division from eight to seven clubs. Accordingly, the itinerary shifted from a morning of back-to-back-to-back round-robin engagements and afternoon of three playoff rounds to a daylong table run. Everyone had a turn facing one another, and each garnered a bye hour.

“We’re still playing the same number of games,” Rugani stressed Saturday morning. The only difference was that, as part of the overhaul, each match would run for 45 minutes rather than the standard 50.

But the Mustangs made the most of their minutes, to say nothing of their bye, which fell in the second hour of competition. Coming off their regularly scheduled tournament opener against St. Raphael, they rested their legs and warmed up for the Roland Grise Knights.

With all three teams taking turns engaging one another on the 13th out of 13 pitches on North Carolina State University’s Miller Field, a broader sideline was more conducive to passing the break productively.

When the Mustangs were summoned back to action at 11 a.m., they capitalized on fresher legs. Four unanswered scoring plays rewarded a slew of swarms deep in Roland Grise territory and ultimately proved the difference in a 6-3 victory.

As it happened, that was the Mustang' second win out of six, as they would continue to run the table after their lunch respite.

“There may be no greater joy as a coach than watching your kids learn to truly believe in themselves, work together and gut it out to the end,” said Rugani. “MCS did that on Saturday.”

But in between, when the clubs convened at midfield after the final play, MCS personnel complimented Roland Grise’s hustle and transition game. Those assets yielded several rapidly developing threats before the Mustangs’ goal line, sometimes culminating in defensive heroics.

The conference culminated in a collective, on-cue “Great game!” shout, which Rugani preceded with a directive to the Field 13 congregation.

 

“Make sure everyone on Field 1 can hear it!”

“There was no shortage of great sportsmanship on the field today,” Rugani later remarked, “and the exchanges by the kids in the spirit circles following each match were uplifting. Great plays and great effort were celebrated and competition dropped out of focus.”

 

Triangle Ultimate: Where goodwill and Spirit fly fast

In the most literal sense, there are no bells or whistles surrounding the Triangle Ultimate Middle School League. Especially no whistles, for this game foregoes formal officiating.

It is on the competing clubs to manage a match’s time, keep score and ensure fair play on their part and their counterparts’ alike.

That is just the way the World Flying Disc Federation, and International Olympic Committee-recognized governing body, intended competitive Ultimate Frisbee to be.

In most sports, a game has three teams — one in a darker uniform, one in a lighter uniform and one in zebra stripes — plus one meaningful scoreboard. Here it is two teams and two scorecards.

Except, this Saturday on the campus of North Carolina State University in Raleigh, it will be two dozen teams combining for hundreds of notable score columns.

All 24 members of the region’s Independent School 15-and-under division will engage in a daylong tournament at NCSU’s Lee Field and Miller Field. Each team’s morning slate consists of three pool-play matches, followed by a two-hour break, then an afternoon playoff tripleheader.

As with ordinary regular-season contests, every game will be squeezed into a one-hour window. The action is capped at 50 minutes. But this season-ending marathon is both a reward and a rigorous uptick in pace from a two-and-a-half-month slate that usually has the student-athletes on the pitch one hour per day, three days per week, when you combine practices and games.

“This will be a new challenge for us,” said Luke Rugani, coach of the Durham-based Montessori Community School’s team. “But the kids are always hungry to play and bring a lot of youthful energy to each event.

“A number of our players are active in other sports, so we benefit from that conditioning. Player rotation and a cooler of good snacks will also be a factor in keeping the kids fresh throughout the day.”

The MCS Mustangs are in Pool D of the 15-and-under Open Division III, and will play all three of its morning round-robin games at Miller Field. Morning results will determine the afternoon brackets, with up to three more games on tap for either Miller Field or Lee Field.

Two years ago, the Mustangs topped their division in terms of wins and losses. By comparison, 2017-18 and 2018-19 have constituted a rebuilding phase. But Saturday’s bonanza, Rugani hopes, can cement a springboard.

“The kids have done well representing MCS,” he said, “and their Spirit Score through the regular season speaks to that. We’re all growing and developing this year. I’m proud of the progress the kids have made, and hope they return next year so we can keep building.”
 

Despite the dip in the area of wins and losses, MCS accrued the highest Spirit Score last winter.

Per the WFDF’s website, teams assign each other’s Spirit Scores on a five-part rubric. They determine whether their opponents understood and followed the rules, refrained from intentional physical contact, were fair-minded, demonstrated self-control and positivity and communicated respectfully.

With a scale of zero to four for each criterion, 20 is the maximum tally. Besides defending a sportsmanship-excellence title from 2018, the Mustangs have plenty of precedent from this season for more high marks at Saturday’s tournament.

The round-robin slate features a pair of new opponents in St. Raphael and Roland Grise. But in between, at 10 a.m., MCS will meet the Franciscan School for the third time this season.

When the TFS Timberwolves visited the MCS pitch, which brushes the Chapel Hill town limit, to start each team’s schedule in mid-November, the Mustangs logged a Spirit Score of 16.

MCS returned the visit this past Monday for each team’s penultimate regular-season game. The Mustangs came away with 15 Spirit points.

Of all their matches in 2018-19 with a Spirit Score on record, they have consistently broken double digits. But the Timberwolves have bestowed their two highest marks to date.

Around here, familiarity may breed contempt between sets of Blue Devils and Tar Heels. But in this case, it spawns expectations of exciting competition and substantial sportsmanship marks.

“Triangle Ultimate is very committed to fostering a great community of Ultimate players,” said Rugani, “and I think that will be more apparent when playing among 23 other middle school teams.

“I hope their appetite for the sport grows - they’ll have many opportunities to play through high school and beyond. Tournaments can be demanding, but I’ve seen many teams evolve during or after a tournament. They get to see what they’re truly capable of and how much potential they have.

“I hope they’re inspired to reach that potential, either during the tournament or in the years to come. Most of all, I want them to have fun this weekend.”