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Why Dayton politics are like a game of hockey with bad referees

Saturday night I went to see the Dayton Demonz play a game of hockey at Hara Arena. Very early in the game an obvious icing call was screwed up and the faceoff was held in neutral ice instead of back in the defensive zone (for those of you who don’t understand hockey- bear with me, but the reason for the icing call is to keep the game moving- stopping the defending team from tossing the puck all the way down the ice every time they feel pressured). My friend and I were bewildered- the fans who know the game were bewildered, how does someone referee a professional hockey game and not know the most basic call in hockey?

But it got worse. A period in hockey is 20 minutes long of stop time. The purpose of referees is to keep the game moving, only blowing the whistle when something happens that gives a team an unfair advantage or tries to slow the action. Typically, without a whole lot of penalties, a period takes, even with time outs, less than 45 minutes. This game- the first period took over 70- and I seem to remember only one penalty being called.

Typically referees only talk, and are officially only allowed to talk to players wearing either a C or an A on their sweater (hockey jersey for the unindoctrinated) – they don’t talk to the bench or the coaches, unless giving the coach a warning or a penalty. These refs seemed to have never learned that part- talking to both benches and each other way more than is customary. As the players became more and more frustrated with bad calls- and missed calls, things got chippy on the ice. Predictions for a brawl or two were being made as the game continued to get out of hand.

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Kinsella got a little pissy!!! #demonz #goalieprobs [1]

A post shared by Rachel Hines [2] (@behavingrachel) on

A major fight in the second period got the fans going- where a Demonz player beat the living crap out of a much bigger opponent. The Federal League was supposed to be making a real effort at cutting down on the brawling this season. Apparently the refs didn’t get the memo- nor did they try to break it up. By the third, they gave the Demonz captain a 10-minute misconduct. The missed calls had the players making bad decisions left and right- not knowing what was going to fly or not fly. With about 10 minutes left to go in regulation, the Demonz goalie got beat on a good goal, and turned around and flipped the net over. This is an automatic penalty for either “unsportsmanlike conduct” or “delay of game.” No call. Nothing.

By the end of the game it was tied- with both teams having guys in the box. Overtime is 4 on 4 and five minutes of sudden death play. It’s well after 11 pm at this point- a full hour, to hour and a half later than the game should have been over. The Demonz captain came back to sit in the box- since as soon as the first whistle after his ten minutes was up- he could re-enter the game. The moment he re-enters another fight starts up- despite the Demonz having a man advantage at the time. A quick goal by the visitor ends the game and as the teams are heading off the ice a brawl breaks out- with one of the refs getting hit and going to his knees. A total failure of controlling the game- and a poor example of what the game of hockey is all about.

WTF does this have to do with politics in Dayton you may rightly ask? Has Esrati lost it?

The beauty of hockey is that the rules are pretty simple, and everyone who plays the game understands them. While there are some nuances that it takes a while to learn, and some penalties are judgment calls- good referees and good players know that things usually have a way of balancing out, and that when the rules are followed- the game works.

In Dayton, our political players have bent the rules, ignored the rules and lied about the rules for so long, the game no longer resembles the game at all. It’s how we end up with a building owned by the people, being the leading tax scofflaw downtown. (The Port Authority is a public slush fund for building buildings for people who don’t like to pay their way- examples being the headquarters for MCSi- which is now the headquarters for Mead School Supplies, the parking garage for the former Relizon/WorkFlow One/Deloitte/CareSource building.

Our politicians are so confused at whon they report to, they run for office because they are told to, even though they have no real interest to continue, and money is thrown their way. Instead of spending our money on public safety and infrastructure- we funnel into pseudo-government organizations like CityWide Development, the Downtown Dayton Partnership and the Dayton Development Coalition where our money gets handed out like candy to congressmen’s wives’ firms on a no-bid contract.

We’ve forgotten what our objectives are, what the rules are and how to keep score properly. It’s a total farce at the game of government, just as was the “hockey game” on Saturday night.

Lucky for hockey fans, there are referees and league officials who will review that game and sort things out.

For dealing with Dayton’s clusterduck of a game, you only have me and my blog-  since the paper’s publisher is in bed with the Dayton Development Coalition and the owners of the media love the money from the auctions we call elections.

Good luck voting tomorrow. Even if you do the right thing, the refs in charge won’t get the score right.

 

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David Lauri

I’ve got a hockey player friend who says only old people still call the jerseys sweaters. This same friend told me that Sidney Crosby’s game-worn jersey is on auction and has reached bids approaching $2,000. I wondered why anyone would want a game-worn jersey, but then I looked up Sidney Crosby’s photos and understood.

Bubba Jones

So, David – how much have you bid on that jersey? I mean sweater!! ;)

Ice Bandit

…it was the first day of the fourth month but the only April Fools were the ones wearing the blood red and coal black road jersies of the Dearborn Devils. For it was the last minutes of the season’s final game, and the sons of Henry Ford were taking yet another butt-whuppin’; a dismal end to a dreadful season. So it was a frustration fueled by failure that motivated Jean-Claude, the hard-luck player-coach of the Michigan crew, to question every call the stripes made that day, including the most obviously correct ones. Now while JC, as he was called, questioned the officials’ eyesight, intelligence and alleged preference for incest, the arena was alive with the sound of music. A staple of hockey barns in the 60s and 70s, the organ player was playing a continuous musical play by play. And this particular keyboardist, an employee of a local music shop, fit the old axiom of being too cute by half. The officials taking the ice, for example, would inspire a rendition of “Three Blind Mice.” And a gloves off and sticks down disagreement would warrant a playing of that 70s standard “Why Can’t We Be Friends.” The Devils team, having watched not one but two empty net goals lock the contest, wished only for game’s end to start their intense off-season training regimen of drinking beer, eating chocolate donuts and hitting on skanks. So JC’s time-grinding theatrics meant he was being hated by both friend and foe. But JC’s enmity would soon take a new direction, for as he berated the refs from the bench, the organ player began a song from a popular 70s movie. JC stopped his narrative in barely intelligible English, jumped over the dasher boards and began to point and swear at the organ player situated behind the penalty box that separated the two team benches. As JC approached the musician, it was clear it was with malice aforethought. The organ player, seeing a babbling and irate Francophone heading his way stopped his performance and stood up, but not to flee. The organist, it turns out,… Read more »