My ode to playoff hockey
When it comes to when I started watching hockey, I can’t recall the first game I ever saw. It’s strange, because I can remember almost every Buffalo Bills game I watched when I was around nine years old. But hockey? There’s not much there from those single-digit years.
There is one moment, though, that I’ll never forget. It was around 1991. My sister got us playoff tickets against the Montreal Canadiens. We were right on the glass—the first and only time in my life I’ve ever sat there. The first big hit came crashing into the boards directly in front of us, and for a split second, I thought the players were going to fall right into our laps. I felt that hit in my bones. I can still feel the flinch, even now. This happened at least 25 times and the sound was thunder. Maybe it was the closeness of the glass, but looking back today and being at a playoff game, the hit meant more.
Playoff hockey isn’t louder. It just feels like it is.
The truth is, everything matters more and everyone knows it. The rink doesn’t change. The rules don’t change. But the atmposhere does. It becomes suffocating, like every breath is just a little too short. Every shift and goal feels like it could tilt a season, a career, a memory you’ll carry for the rest of your life.
If you grew up anywhere near Buffalo, you don’t need that explained. You felt it before you understood it.
You felt it in the stories—passed down like family heirlooms or stumbled upon in YouTube wormholes—about Buffalo Sabres teams that didn’t just play, but made a mark, for good or bad. My dad would talk about how Gilbert Perreault would glide through chaos like it didn’t exist and say he was the greatest of all-time. Then there’s me who would tell you how Dominik Hašek turned desperation into an art form in a 70-save performance that no one else could replicate and is the greatest player in club history. You and your best friends can still debate the co-captains with feeling like choosing between Christina or Britney—everyone had a side, and no one backed down.
Playoff hockey isn’t clean. It’s not pretty. You can have the worse 1-0 game where a butt goal is the highlight, but you feel like you just came back from a marathon run after watching. Every mistake echoes longer than it should. The margins shrink until they disappear. A bounce, a deflection, a fall, or a whistle half a second late and that’s the difference between advancing and going home.
And if you want to understand what that really means, you have to go back to the 1999 Stanley Cup Finals.
No Goal.
You can say those two words anywhere in Western New York, and it hits like a memory you never asked to keep. Triple overtime. Sitting in my parents’ basement, throwing the remote across the room. Then later, at an underage bar on Hertel Avenue, seeing a bottom line on ESPN say that Brett Hull’s foot was in the crease which destroyed my coping buzz. A moment decided in a way that still doesn’t sit right 25 years later. That’s playoff hockey. Not just the loss, but the permanence of it. There are no rewrites. Just a snapshot burned into memory forever.
But it’s not only heartbreak. That would be too easy—too one-note.
It’s also the 2006 Eastern Conference Finals, when a battered Sabres roster lost defensemen one by one, and you’re left wondering what could have been. It’s 2001, when all Rhett Warrener had to do was box out Mario Lemieux in the dying seconds of Game 6. It’s 1993, when everyone remembers “May Day,” but I think about the next round against Montreal—three overtime losses—and wonder what happens if Alexander Mogilny and Pat LaFontaine were fully healthy.
Playoff hockey lives in those maybes that can become hell. But going through hell to get to heaven is worth it sometimes.
“Mayday” was a goal that removed the 450lb weight off your back because you couldn’t get out of the first round for a decade and Bruins owned you. Game 1 against the Sens in 2006 will go down as the best playoff hockey game I ever saw where my roommates came into my room to see if I was fighting my pillows or the wall. And forget making friends. I didn’t make any on the night in Midtown East in Manhattan when I screamed at the top of my lungs when Chris Drury sent game 5 to overtime against the Rangers and Max won it in OT. I ran around a yuppie Mexican bar like I won the lottery and got the dirtiest looks ever. I still remember that victory piss I took afterwards and having a Rangers fan stare directly into my soul while next to me in the urine.
Those are the moments you remember and will pass them down to the next generation.
And maybe that’s why that moment from 1991 still sticks with me more than anything else. Not a goal. Not a series win. Just a hit into the boards, right in front of me, that made everything feel real for the first time. The sound, the force, the fear—it all hit at once.
That’s playoff hockey.
You don’t always remember when it starts. But you never forget the moment you felt it.
The Tales of the GM and The Hand
I’m a huge Game of Thrones fan, and like that jackass Bill Simmons who shoehorns The Wire into every sports conversation, I’m doing the same thing here with Westeros.
One of the more compelling arcs in Game of Thrones is Tyrion Lannister. He’s a dwarf, an outcast in one of the richest and most powerful families in the realm, and, between drinking and fucking whores, the guy literally made sure the “plumbing” of Casterly Rock ran smoothly. Then, out of nowhere, his demanding father Tywin Lannister names him Hand of the King, which is essentially the top advisor in the kingdom. It’s a shocking move, born out of necessity. Tywin needs to win a war, needs someone he can trust (sort of), and needs stability in King’s Landing, while his grandson — a petulant child king who I cheered more so for his death than anyone I can ever remember — sits on the throne.
Kevyn Adams and Tyrion had to have this same type of conversation with their bosses.
This is a massive job, one he had no real experience for. Tyrion went from managing the back-end operations of Casterly Rock and drinking/whoring himself to running a kingdom. Adams went from running Harborcenter -I think that’s what he did?- to running an NHL franchise. Both felt like guys who skipped about ten steps on the trajectory of being management.
And just like in Westeros, nobody — including me — thought Adams was the right choice. It felt like he got the job because of proximity and trust, not experience. Tyrion got the gig because he was a Lannister. Adams got it because he was close with the Pegulas. Different worlds, same syenergy.
Back in King’s Landing, Tyrion spends most of Season 2 annoying, outmaneuvering, and straight-up angering just about everyone around him. But when it matters most, he delivered. At the Battle of Blackwater, with Stannis Baratheon ready to take the city, Tyrion comes up with a risky, unconventional plan that others doubted. And for a while, it works. The battle hangs in the balance, closer than anyone expected.
Then Tyrion takes a blade to the face — from his own Kingsguard — and is left for dead.
And right when everything looks lost, in comes the cavalry: Tywin Lannister and the Tyrells. They sweep in, finish the job, and claim victory.
Next episode? Tywin and the Tyrells get all the credit. Tyrion is laid up, scarred, pushed aside, and quietly informed he’s no longer Hand of the King. His reaction was as expected…
Yes. Tyrion was not happy receiving the news that someone else got credit for winning the battle of blackwater. Lord Varys tries to tell Tyrion the glass isn’t half empty even if he poured the milk of the poppy himself.
That part always stuck with me. Not just the politics, but the optics. The guy who did the hard, messy, unpopular work doesn’t get remembered that way. He gets replaced, minimized, and eventually forgotten because he was a dwarf who no one took seriously.
Now let’s sail back across the Narrow Sea to the Kingdom of Buffalo.
Whether you want to map Maester Pycelle to Pete Guelli, Margaery Tyrell to Laura Pegula, Loras to Jarmo, or Varys/littlefinger to people in the media who are trying to kiss ass. The parallels are there if you squint hard enough. This current Sabres roster? It’s Kevyn Adams’ blueprint. His fingerprints are all over it.
And yet…he’s not going to get the credit.
If any credit, it’s that the ink is dry that his firing inspired the team to do better. I’ve watched sports for a long time and I can’t recall a GM ever inspiring the same group of players to play beyond their capability. Normally it is the coach who has that power to motivate. Furthermore, we all know Terry Pegula has his finger prints all over everything and he was the main reason they were a dumpster fire.
Let me be clear: I’m not a Kevyn Adams stan.
I thought he was in over his head and should’ve been fired long before he actually was. Comparing him to one of the best characters in Game of Thrones almost makes me nauseous. Adams is closer to Janos Slynt in my opinion than Tyrion Lannister.
Yet, even though I can’t stand him and feel his quotes in public were embarrassing, the story being told now is convenient and based on someone who no one -including me- liked.
Adams gets fired, the team rallies, the new voices take over, and suddenly everything clicks. It’s about Lindy Ruff, Jarmo, and the players. Just like Blackwater became about Tywin, Joffrey, and the Tyrells.
And look — that stuff matters. Just like in Westeros, reinforcements and leadership changes did swing everything as Stannis probably would have won without their help.
But it’s also true that if Tyrion doesn’t hold the line long enough, there’s no city left to save when Tywin arrives. And if Adams doesn’t assemble the core of this roster — flawed as his tenure was — there’s nothing here to suddenly “fix” in the first place. History, both in fiction and sports, tends to favor the people standing in the throne room at the end, not the ones bleeding in the mud to buy them time.
So maybe Kevyn Adams doesn’t deserve a redemption arc based on the last 6 years of his tenure and being a fool.
But that doesn’t mean he deserves to be written out of the story entirely either.
The Russini–Vrabel Story: Scandal, truth, or Just Internet Noise?
Mike and Dianna-gate or the Diana Russini and Mike Vrabel “affair” has everything: It is fascinating…It is stupid…it is funny memes, and a little bit of “what exactly have we become as a society?”
For starters, how did the New York Post even get those photos? I highly doubt some standard E! paparazzi crew — the kind that usually follows Hollywood A-listers — randomly decided to tail these two. Could it have been a private investigator hired by a spouse who then flipped the pictures to the Post? Honestly, that feels very possible. And let’s be real: the Post, which has no love lost for The New York Times (which owns The Athletic), probably couldn’t hit “publish” fast enough.
Then you’ve got the double standard.
Dianna is getting dragged online way more than Vrabel, which is predictable at this point. It’s the same dynamic Christina Aguilera used to sing about — when a guy does it, he’s a legend; when a woman does it, she’s a headline. Add in the fact that the internet never forgets as she’s been open in past interviews about liking to have a good time…suddenly that becomes “evidence” for every comedian on Twitter. Fair? Not really. Expected? Yes.
The media reaction has also been…weird. Some outlets that would normally jump all over something like this have been oddly quiet (looking at you, Barstool), while others, like Dan Le Batard, who spent hours on Belichick and his 20-something year-old girlfriend, sounded like they’d rather be anywhere else than discussing it. That hesitation says a lot. Not necessarily about the story itself, but how messy and uncomfortable this kind of coverage has become due to personal relationships with both Vrabel and Russini.
And then there’s the actual question: is this even a big deal *if* it’s true?
On the surface, yes…
Journalism 101 would tell you not to get involved with your sources. Objectivity matters, and even the appearance of bias can be a problem. Some Titans fans have pointed to Russini being tough on the team after Vrabel was fired as “proof” of something. But let’s be honest: the Titans have been a dumpster fire, and plenty of people — with zero personal connection — have said the same thing. That argument feels like a reach.
Then there’s the Vrabel part…the NFL world — like any industry — is full of workplace relationships, rumors, and situations that never make it to the public or if they do, nothing happens for the most part. From front offices to media circles, this wouldn’t exactly be groundbreaking if true. We’ve seen similar situations in other organizations (COUGH* The Marketing guy), and they rarely end up being about morality as much as they are about optics and timing. There’s about 10 photos of Jerry Jones being drunk online with younger girls and he’s married. There’s also Jay Glazer who trains with players/coaches for his Cobra Kai hobby and that could be viewed as a conflict of interest. It wouldn’t shock me if Adam Schefter has gotten drinks with executives and the Shanahan family has allowed him to name their grandson. I’ve heard stories where team NFL executives have hooked up media with tickets to events at the stadium/arenas. There’s networking and then there’s being friends with benefits that aren’t exactly sexual.
Which brings us to the inevitable denial phase of the story. Russini, Vrabel, and The Athletic are going to stay firm: coincidence, professionals, resumes, nothing to see here. Maybe that’s true. Maybe it isn’t. Normally, in 2026, denial isn’t really about convincing everyone… it’s about giving just enough cover for the story to eventually fade.
However, this story has legs that happen to live on the internet because of the scandalous nature and people using meme games. Those legs don’t get tired. In an era where speculation travels faster than facts and every fan has a platform, stories like this don’t disappear; they evolve, resurface, and get retold with new angles.
Fair or not, true or not, it’s already crossed the threshold from report to conversation. Once that happens, it’s no longer controlled by sources or statements. It belongs to the public cycle now. And the public cycle doesn’t forget.
Stathead of the week
Here’s where James Cook ranks since 2023:
TDs: 5th (38)
Rushing yards: 5th (3752)
Rushing yards after contact: 4th (1647)
100 Yard rushing games: 2nd (16)
DAD SHOTS
— Did you know that you can get drinking Sabres swords at select Sabres games? Of course you do. The Sabres are pumping out as many photos of those as social media is putting out of Dianna Russini and Mike Vrabel. Almost all of the fan content — along with the cutaway shots during games — has been adults drinking or screaming. There’s nothing wrong with that, but it’s worth pointing out how different the Sabres’ marketing is today compared to 10 years ago.
Back when the Sabres blogosphere was much bigger, a common complaint was that the team felt way too kid-friendly. You could tell on game days when they leaned hard into kid-centric content. This really ramped up soon after Pegula took over, and it was obvious they wanted to market to families. Maybe the success of Bills Mafia — where drinking and partying became a brand in itself — is what’s driving this shift in creative direction. As a father, count me in: drinking and partying is way cooler than a kid holding an “I love Tage” sign at center ice.
— Andy has been out of school for 10 days because of spring break, and I am more than ready to send his ass back. Why a daycare even has a spring break is beyond me. I’m exhausted from watching him. I did get him to sit on the potty naked for five minutes, but then he lost it — and no poop came out.
— Alan Pergament had a nugget about the Sabres possibly moving to WBUF 92.9, which is interesting. I honestly can’t remember the last time I listened to music on the radio — Spotify has basically killed that for me. I’ve also never really heard of this station; I always thought 97 Rock and 103.3 The Edge were the main rock stations.
That said, you can see the logic. A rock station pairing with the Sabres makes sense on paper, especially since that format is struggling. Still, I don’t fully understand the upside if ad sales are going to the Sabres. Does having exclusive interviews with the head coach or GM actually move the needle enough to justify it? Do pregame and postgame ad revenues go to the station, or are those handled internally by the team? There are still a lot of questions about whether this kind of partnership really benefits both sides.
— CM Punk is the best. I could listen to him chew out a bad donut and be entertained. Best promo of this century. With that said, I have no idea why you would have Pat McAfee -the heel of the program- decide to give fans a 25% discount for Wrestlemania night 1. Like shouldn’t a babyface give that message? If anything, they should set up an angle that if Punk wins, ticket prices will go down and you can set up someone interfering on behalf of Roman if you wanted to be dicks
— The Sabres’ resurgence has quietly pushed the Bills’ draft needs to the backseat in the Buffalo sports conversation and that’s a good thing.
— I guess Joe Brady’s slogan is “put the ball down,” which he used a few times during the combine. And of course, look what the Bills rolled out…
I’m sure the merchandise/PR department had nothing to do with him coming up with that slogan — just like McDermott’s “trust the process” definitely wasn’t borrowed from the 76ers. If it were up to me, my slogan would be: “fuck around and find out.”
— Tage Thompson has two goals in his last 10 games. I don’t know if he’s playing hurt or just hitting a lull, but he needs to get out of this funk.
— Since giving up seven goals in that wild win against Tampa Bay, UPL has allowed two goals or fewer in six of his last nine games. Before that game, he allowed two goals or fewer in six straight starts. In other words, he’s peaking at the right time.
— Colton Ellis was unreal against the Blue Jackets. He stood on his head and made key saves that bailed the Sabres out until they exploded in the final 14 minutes.
— Someone ask Chris Ostrander if Michael Kesselring is the new Andy Delmore.
— The Sabres’ weaknesses still seem to be the third blue line pairing and special teams. On the power play, since scoring four against Tampa on March 10, they’ve had just seven goals on 45 opportunities over their last 16 games.
— Hodor Stanley has been decent since I told him I didn’t want to hear from him anymore in last week’s piece. His setup pass to Quinn on Friday night was a thing of beauty. See? Bullying works.
— How impressed are you that I’ve got about 12 words dedicated to the Bills and we’re basically at the end of this piece?
— So I started an agreement with Homage to advertise some of their shirts on this platform and if you buy anything by following this link, your boy gets a percentage. This is my favorite shirt as I’m a sucker for retro football cards. I have a bunch of these shirts and can say they are super comfortable and my wife is totally turned on by them. OK..I made the latter up.
— I’m rewatching the Boys before I start the new season and the scene with Homelander and Maye deciding to not save a hijacked plane is a scene that I get agitata while watching. Maybe it’s my fear of a plane crashing but that scene crystallizes the series in terms of bad things can happen.
If you have made it this far…thank you! Please share this with anyone who you think would enjoy these words or anyone who loves a good hate read. I’m on Pat Morans podcast today so please give a listen. Oh! And buy a shirt!
I remember watching the Hull game in a Dallas-area Chilli's and... Ugh, almost as bitter as the beer they had.
I really enjoy these articles! Reminds me of what Peter King did but with a Buffalo focus. Great work!