NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
This is the worst of all possible news. Well, not the worst, I mean Denis Potvin could have taken the job, but HARRY NEALE! Okay, I've tried to remain calm while management wound their way through multiple difficult off-season personnel issues, spending hours trying to piece together just what it was that happened behind the scenes of the Drury/Briere negotiations. I refused to nit-pick over the seeming lack of movement to tweak this roster with trades/free agents.
But hiring Harry Neale makes me truly question the direction of this franchise!!@$
Excuse me while I regress to a 14 year-old's level of punctuation. Having Neale run color for the Leafs was one of the few areas where I could pity them and hence, humanize them just a little bit, as opposed to seeing them as the implacable, red-skinned insectoid monsters from hell (or, at least, New Jersey) that they are underneath their illusion projecting systems. Paul Maurice even looks like he used to work for Yoyodine Propulsion Systems.
Seriously, though, I've given Harry Neale a lot of grief over the years and felt he should have retired earlier in the decade. Where once there was a great hokcey color man, I've felt, there is no longer. Frankly the Sabres should not be using HNiC's cast-offs. There are few, if any, people associated with your favorite sports team that you spend more time with than the guys who call the games. All of my memories of being a Yankee fan, in a former, regrettable life, center around, not the images and the plays themselves, but the rotation of Frank Mercer, Bill White and Phil Rizzuto through the broadcast booth. If Pat Summerall and John Madden weren't calling a Giants game, I'd seriously consider turning the sound, or the game, off.
And, honestly it's the same way today with the Sabres. Watching them on someone else's local feed (especially if that local feed is from Boston) is like listening to three hours of nails on a chalk-board. Players come and go (and in Buffalo they go in dramatic fashion), coaches get fired and ownership changes hands, but the guys behind the mics are nearly eternal.
I used to pity the enemy... now I are one.
Ta,