Duluth East topples No. 1 Eden Prairie in Amsoil debut
Duluth East junior Dom Toninato (19) watched his overtime deflection reach the goal an instant before diving Eden Prairie goalie Andrew Ford.
By John Gilbert
It’s not how long you have the puck, it’s where it goes after you no longer have it. That could be the new motto for Duluth East center Dom Toninato. It didn’t matter that the No. 3 Greyhounds were badly outshot, and mostly outplayed by No. 1 ranked Eden Prairie on a Saturday afternoon in January at Amsoil Arena. What mattered most was that Toninato scored two goals that took less than a blink of an eye — the second in sudden-death overtime — to give East a 4-3 triumph.
While claiming their biggest victory of the season, in the first high school game played at the new arena, the Greyhounds had to hold their poise as the flow of play and the shot-chart compiled evidence against them. Eden Prairie outshot East 12-3 in the first period, and 32-14 for the game. But JoJo Jeanetta was at his best in goal to hold the ‘Hounds within reach through regulation, and Toninato, who found just the right touch for East’s first goal, scored again on a deflection that took its tantalizingly slow time before crossing the goal line at 0:52 of overtime. If it was possible to add up the elapsed time the puck was in contact with Toninato’s stickblade for both goals it would define the word millisecond.
“It was just what we expected, coming up here,” said Eden Prairie coach Lee Smith. “We knew East would be tough and we expected a great game.”
But he couldn’t have expected the way the result was fabricated. East was trailing 1-0 and had been outshot 9-1 at 12:56 of the first period when Toninato cruised past the crease left-to-right just in time to deflect in a crisp power-play centering pass from Jake Randolph, near the right corner. Time of possession? Whatever it takes for a one-touch ricochet. That came on East’s first power play of the game, for a 1-1 equalizer. A lot happened before East needed to call on its slick power play again. East was outshot in the second period, 10-6, but gained a 2-1 lead when Zac Schendel scored with a rebound from wide to the left of the cage late in the period,
Eden Prairie attacked relentlessly, but East goaltender JoJo Jeanetta was solid.
Eden Prairie’s Kyle Rau did his best to ruin Jeanetta’s big day in the third period. The skilled and quick centerman, who is committed to Minnesota, scored goals at 1:22 and 14:09 of the third, the first to gain a 2-2 tie. Hunter Bergerson’s goal from left point regained the lead for East two minutes later, but Rau struck again with three minutes left to tie it 3-3. That was hard-earned against Jeanetta, but hardly a suitable reward for the Eagles, who had outshot East 32-13 through three periods.
An Eden Prairie penalty with 25 seconds left in the third period carried over into overtime. Again, the power play clicked. Toninato went to the front of the net, and again the quick-passing Greyhounds worked the puck around until Meirs Moore cut loose with a shot from the left point. Toninato, facing the left boards, saw the shot coming on a trajectory headed just behind him. He reached back, getting his stick on the shot and redirecting it toward the goal — but slowly.
Fortunately for East, Eden Prairie goalie Andrew Ford was screened on the original shot, and didn’t spot the slowly sliding puck until it was slithering through the crease. He made a desperation dive across the crease for it, but was an instant too late. The puck barely crossed the goal line, and Toninato’s instantaneous touch had redirected the puck for a goal.
“They’re the best team we’ve seen, without a doubt,” said Toninato, the junior center on East’s most productive top line. “They did a good job of clearing rebounds and keeping us from getting many chances. But our power play is working at something like 40 percent. On the overtime goal, I was facing to the side and I had to reach back for the puck.”
But all he had to do was touch it, which took about the same amount of time as his first-goal deflection. But the state ratings don’t require any minimum time length for the puck to be on a goal-scorer’s stick.
“This should bump us right up there,” said Toninato, whose dad, Jim Toninato, came down from International Falls to play for UMD back in the Brett Hull glory years of the mid-1980s. Maybe good hands are hereditary.
East had only lost twice to that point, a 2-1 opening game overtime loss at Wayzata, and a 4-3 loss against Edina in the Schwan’s Cup holiday tournament. In that Edina game, East was outshot 10-3 in the first period and trailed 1-0 — sound familiar?– but rallied from a 3-1 deficit to gain a late 3-3 tie before Edina won it. Against Eden Prairie, being outshot 12-3 was another in a continuing series of lessons about the necessity to start games at full-throttle.
East’s success includes a tough 2-1 victory over Grand Rapids earlier last week, as the Thunderhawks are proving that there is another strong Class AA team Up North. You could toss Eden Paririe, Edina, Hill-Murray, East, and Wayzata into a hat and pick one as the state’s No. 1 team. And late-blooming Moorhead, Apple Valley and Grand Rapids are not far behind. Meanwhile, Hermantown keeps on rolling in Class A, and remains the state’s only unbeaten team in either class, while being ranked No. 2 behind St. Thomas Academy. As usual, when Heremantown coach Bruce Plante rebuilds, he really just reloads.
Fighting Sioux alter tradition in race to WCHA lead
North Dakota goaltender Aaron Dell dives to stop UMD's Mike Seidel.
By John Gilbert
No more smoke and mirrors this season for the University of North Dakota hockey team. That is to say, no more mirrors. Just smoke. You could say the Fighting Sioux spent coach Dave Hakstol’s first six years reflecting on mirror-image scenarios, struggling to the Christmas break each season and then rising to become a solid contendere during repeated second-half surges. But that illusion has been shattered this season, leaving only the smoke from being red-hot through the first half.
The Sioux have raced to lead the WCHA at 11-3 at its midpoint. Kicking off the second half with an exhibition, they cruised into Duluth and christened Minnesota-Duluth’s new Amsoil Arena with a 5-0 romp over the previously No. 1 Bulldogs, leaving the Sioux 14-5-2 overall in the most impressive first half of Hakstol’s seven-year tenure. What can happen in the second half is an imposing thought to the rest of the WCHA.
“This team is no different from any other we’ve had,” said Hakstol. “We’ve been playing good hockey. We work hard, and we’ve gotten through some lineup issues. But we’re no different than in past years.”
That similarity might be called the family plan, because that’s what all of Hakstol’s teams have had in common. Totally unified, their unselfish play and teamwork is something that every team would like to have, vows to have, or pretends to have. North Dakota has it, and sets standards for team cohesiveness that other teams strive for.
This team is clearly different when it comes to results, however. In Hakstol’s previous years, North Dakota has had impressive talent, led by some big-gun scorers. Yet all of those teams struggled enough with injuries or inconsistent play through the first half of their seasons that the Sioux were jokingly accused of purposely laying low so they’d be fresh enough to respond when Hakstol would fire-up the charge from middle-of-the-pack chasing the title. That formula worked for Hakstol’s first four teams, all of which reached the Frozen Four. His fifth team won the WCHA league title, while last year’s Sioux came together to win the Broadmoor Trophy for its second championship at the Final Five playoffs.
This season, however, there are two major differences. The first is the impressive first-half success. The second is that this team, ironically, has no Zach Parise, T.J. Oshie, or Jonathan Toews — the super-scorers who led the Sioux in recent years before signing NHL contracts and departing early. Instead, the Sioux have used surprising balance.
“It’s true, we don’t have the big-name scorers this year,” Hakstol acknowledged. “But we’ve got enough guys who feel like they should score, and like they should contribute, so they do.”
The 5-0 victory at Duluth was a perfect example. A sellout crowd of 6,732 filled Amsoil Arena, and the UMD Bulldogs attacked with their favorite hard-forechecking, quick-passing style, cycling off the end boards for repeated good chances. But North Dakota played superb team defense in front of goaltender Aaron Dell, a sophomore who has displaced returning star Brad Eidsness. With considerable poise, the Sioux prevented the pesky Bulldogs from getting clean chances from the slot, or repeated chances in front.
Four different players got goals, but it was a 1-0 game until a strange circumstance in the second period. A broken pane of tempered glass in the side boards shattered with 6:25 left in the first, so the teams broke for intermission early. The final 6:25 of the period was then played, followed by the horn, a change of ends, and then the 20-minute second period. It almost seemed as though UMD was groomed for 20 minutes, but had trouble playing 26:25. After matching the Sioux chance for chance at 1-0 for 17:19 of the second period — or an actual 23:44 with the extra 6:25 — the Sioux erupted for three goals in the span of 1:14 to take command at 4-0.
Carter Rowney's goal ignited a 3-goal Sioux surge in a 1:14 span against UMD goalie Aaron Crandall.
Brad Malone scored two goals, one in the first period and one in the third, while Carter Rowner, Danny Kristo and Matt Frattin got one apiece in the second-period flurry. Evan Trupp set up Frattin’s goal, and Trupp also fed Malone for his second goal, shorthanded in the third. Frattin, a senior winger, has 18 goals to lead the WCHA in all-game goals. But much of the Sioux success has been ignited by the unselfish play of Trupp. Hakstol, who would rather not single out individuals for superlatives, appreciates such contributions.
“Evan has been, arguably…” said Hakstol, groping a bit to avoid overdoing it, altering the second part of the compliment. “He’s been extremely reliable.”
As for the goaltending, Hakstol said the 5-0 victory wouldn’t have been possible without Dell. “We didn’t have a lot going on the first 10 minutes,” said Hakstol. “UMD’s first line cycled the puck and gave us trouble the first 10 minutes, and they had a lot of chances to tie the game when it was 1-0. Some of the bigger plays we made were by Aaron Dell.”
It took 35 saves to blank the Bulldogs, and Dell stopped them all. “He’s given us a chance to win every time he’s played,” Hakstol said. But he stopped short of saying Dell was No. 1. Eidsness, a returning standout as a junior, was a key reason why North Dakota was the consensus preseason pick to win the WCHA. But Dell, a sophomore, has taken the No. 1 slot and stands 13-4-1 while Eidsness is 1-1-1. In 17 games, Dell’s 2.20 goals-against average and a .910 save percentage are among the league leaders.
Matt Frattin converted Evan Trupp's goal-mouth pass as UND spoiled UMD's Amsoil Arena opening 5-0.
“We’re definitely not a one-goaltender team,” added Hakstol.
Nobody typifies North Dakota’s family plan better than Chay Genoway, the 5-foot-9 dynamo on defense. Genoway went from dynamic team catalyst to the sidelines when he suffered a concussion after being checked from behind into the end boards last season. He never lost consciousness, but the concussion’s lasting effect was a never-ending string of severe headaches, every day. It was bad enough that it precluded his return to the lineup, and also prevented him from going to class. He was granted a medical redshirt to come back for a full senior season, but even then his status was uncertain, because he couldn’t work out until midsummer. Once back on skates, his return to form was a long, slow process.
“Whenever I’ve been hurt, I’ve always worked harder and harder to get back into the lineup,” said Genoway. “But with this, the less I did the better it was. At the start of the season, the game was too quick for me. Finally, it’s slowing down.”
Ironic that the player the rest of the WCHA has had trouble catching up to had become a player who had to catch up to the pace of the game. It took great determination on Genoway’s part. Hakstol was more than willing to be extra-patient with his prize defenseman, who was voted the preseason player of the year last season.
“It was an issue with our team to get Chay back,” said Hakstol. “It’s taken nearly a full two months for him to get back to form, but now he’s a toughened version of what he was last year, and it was a big boost to the team immediately when he came back. I’d say he’s nearly 100 percent now, but the best thing is, he’s going to get better and better over the next three months.”
The next three months, on top of the first three months, would put North Dakota right there in prime position for playoffs.
Most memorable New Year: Ski, fly a little, and survive
By John Gilbert
When I was a kid, our family used to get together with another family every New Year’s Eve. They lived at one end of Duluth and we lived at the other, and we never saw each other except on New Year’s Eve, although both sets of parents were close, and both families had a daughter and son the same ages. It was a wonderful and wholesome tradition, until their family moved to St. Cloud, and even a half-century later it regenerates warm and fuzzy memories.
I’ve always regretted that with my own family, we have never established or maintained any such holiday traditions. That doesn’t mean we didn’t have New Year’s celebrations that weren’t memorable. One New Year’s Day, in fact, remains the most memorable.
We all were very involved in sports, lliving in the Twin Cities in those days, back when Sprit Mountain had just been built as a ski area in Duluth. My wife, Joan, had tried skiing a few times, and our older son, Jack, had skied a fair amount. Our younger son, Jeff, was still tiny. I had never been on skis, although it looked exciting. That year, New Year’s Day fell on a Sunday, and the Vikings were in a playoff game that I really wanted to watch. But it was decided that the most fun thing we could do was to have a family ski day at Spirit Mountain.
My plan was to be what they call a “good sport.” I’d go out on the slope, fall down to give the rest of the family a big laugh, then come back to the lodge allegedly to recompose myself, but mainly to watch the NFL playoff game, while Joan and Jack skied and laughed, in equal portions.
It was a cold but bright day. Since I had never had skis on my feet, I had no ski clothing, either, although from coaching kid hockey teams outside, I knew how to stay warm. I had a huge parka that looked a lot like it was made from the hides of several wolverines, although the fur was of the fake, acrylic sort. My family used to say it made me look like a Sasquatch, despite my more exotic idea of a wolverine. Regardless, it was definitely warm, because of its thickness, and if it didn’t fit in with the sleek ski-wear on the slopes, I didn’t care. I paid our fees and Joan and Jack put their boots on and latched themselves into their skis. I got much-needed help from the guy renting equipment, coming away with some boots that fit and a pair of skis that fit onto the boots. I got the boots on, and walked with clumping steps out the lower door to catch up with Joan and Jack. As instructed, I clicked my Spademan bindings onto my booted feet, and hooked the tethering straps around my ankles.
Jack, old enough to be a wise-guy already, pointed me down a gentle slope running diagonally away to the southwest as the starting hill. I slid, cautiously, in that direction, then stopped and looked up. The silhouette of the chairlift, high above, way up in the sky, made me realize I had been suckered by my kid. I was now far enough down the hill that I would have to go the rest of the way.
OK, I figured, it’s time for me to provide the family entertainment. Off I went, heading down what looked like a near-cliff, leading to the St. Louis River. I was already an experienced motorcycle rider, and a veteran of having driven numerous race cars on numerous race tracks, amid the numerous cars I test-drove for my automotive column in the Minneapolis Tribune. Driving a race car or riding a motorcycle is a real kick, but you have have great care and a precise touch to make sure you don’t overdo it. Skiing, it seemed to me, was similar in exhilaration, but, in theory, going fast was its own reward — extra fun, without the risk of crashing into a wall or going to jail — and overdoing it meant crashing on snow, which provides a softer impact than, say, a guard rail.
I thought of that as I went over the crest and plunged down the steepest part of the slope. Immediately I was going fast, and then I was going faster. Too fast, for sure, but really exciting. The sunglasses I was wearing seemed to channel jetstreams of air directly into my eyes, which were both watering at a frantic pace, obscuring my vision. Skiing down an all-white hill, with your eyes watering, took the term “whiteout” to a new plateau. I had no idea about the technique, to say nothing of the ability, to swerve a bit from side to side, carving into the snow the way I have since I’ve closely observed experts on television. I was, instead, hurtling straight down the hill at bl;ur-speed, unable to see anything ahead of me except the occasional dark form of a “normal” skier that was gently weaving down the hill at moderate speed. Looking stylish or being cool was not in my consciousness, but in retrospect, the fur from that giant acrylic must have been standing on end on my parka as I flew down that hill.
Thrilled as I was, right about then I suddenly became aware of something else. I was airborne. Combining flat-out speed and watery eyes left me unable to see any contours in the whiteout conditions, and the inability to see became an elimination of any chance to avoid something called a mogul. I apparently had gone right over one, launching me into what seemed like outer space. At height of my flight, both in altitude and elapsed time, I became aware of yet another sensation — my right ski was no longer attached to my right foot. I felt the freedom of my right foot just about a millisecond before also feeling the tug of the tether as the free-falling ski reached its limit from the free-falling body, which was me.
The thought flashed across my consciousness that this might be how my life would end. The cartoon image of Beetle Bailey after being beaten up by Sarge came to mind, the one where Beetle lies in a pile of disjointed bodily parts. My adrenaline rush was already maxed out, but it went to emergency overload as I realized that, at some point in the near future, my flilght I would be ending and I could hopefully be found after cartwheeling the rest of the way to the St. Louis River.
I did, indeed, come back to contact with the earth, on one ski. Only instincts were still functioning, and those instincts sought to come to a complete stop as quickly as possible. I cut sharply to the right on the inside edge of my left, and only, ski and skidded to what might be best called a hockey stop. Immediately, I was at a complete halt. Without any such statistics being kept, even in Olympic skiing, I’m quite sure I just set some sort of record for going 60-0 in the shortest possible time.
But I was still standing, still, in the middle of the run, with my still-adrift right ski bumping softly into my boot as it dutifully returned from the length of its tether. It was like an obedient pup that had run to the end of its leash, nearly strangling itself before returning apologetically from its over-exuberance. I reached down, opened the binding, put my boot into it, and latched it shut, turning the crank a couple twists to tighten it. Only then did I realize that I had just committed all in a moment, an act that was simultaneously dangerous, exciting, and spontaneous. A maneuver that nobody should try on skis. And maybe something never before tried by anyone, at least on the first-ever attempt at a downhill skiing run. I was still standing there. I did not tumble end-over-end, I did not even fall down, even though my first run on two skis turned into my first and only run on one ski, and all at high speed, while impersonating a berserk Sasquatch.
Nothing to this skiing, I thought, and I resumed my run. Zap! I was at the bottom, Joan and Jack expressed something bordering on amazement. I had left them far behind — gravity will do that for you on a ski slope — but they had the perfect vantage point to see the whole event unfold.
The football game was immediately excluded from my plans, as I spent the rest of the day flying down the Spirit Mountain slopes at what could only be called banzai speed. I never curved, I never figured out the way to do anything but blast down the hill as fast as my enthusiasm, gravity, and the complete lack of common sense could carry me. I learned later they call it “bombing” the hill, but I’d never heard, or considered, such a thing.
The advantage of going that fast was that I was able to make a lot of runs; the disadvantage was that each run consumed about 20 seconds, or about as long as it might take a boulder to hit bottom after being dropped off the top of a cliff. I must have made a dozen runs, until my building confidence edged over to cockiness. Only then did I have a full-speed, fly-through-the-air, crash and burn going down that main slope. That crazy acrylic parka must have made it look like a Sasquatch-induced avalanche, and the rest of the family got their long-awaited chance to laugh at my expense. I made them wait to get it, but it has remained among the highlights of family reminiscences.
It was dark by the time we finally quit. I think the Vikings won their playoff game, but I never saw a single play. Funny thing, though. I know all my runs were lightning fast, because I was bombing each run, so how come that first run remains indelible in my memory, with the whole airborne/ski-jettison/one-ski landing/complete-stop seeming like it took about five minutes, while it must have actually taken about a half-second?
Great way to spend a New Year’s Day. But maybe not a wise course of action for a family tradition.
Why choose one, when hockey and football beckon?
Nearly 4,000 UMD fans braved subzero windchill to urge victory.
By John Gilbert
Football or hockey, what is your preference? And what if very important games are being held in both sports, and in conflict with each other, 150 miles apart? Obviously, you’d have to choose which one to watch. Or, is it possible to have your cake and eat it too?
When the University of Minnesota-Duluth hockey team plays Minnesota, it’s always a huge series, and this year, with UMD recently rated No. 1, it was bigger than ever when they faced the Gophers Friday and Saturday nights, in the final series of the first half of the WCHA race. On Saturday night in Duluth, however, the UMD football Bulldogs — undefeated and ranked No. 1 in the country in Division II — would be at home for a 5 p.m. national semifinal against Northwest Missouri State.
As your intrepid correspondent, I felt a duty to be at both events, to say nothing of a personally strong, emotional pull. For someone who splits time between Duluth and the Twin Cities, logistics helped make my plan. I would be in San Diego test-driving the all-new Nissan Quest, and the all-new Ford Explorer, and I wouldn’t arrive back in Minneapolis until Thursday. Flying into the Twin Cities Thursday, it made good sense to stay over and attend the hockey series Friday night and Saturday night. If UMD’s football team was playing at noon, I’d have driven up for the game, then hustled back to Minneapolis for the second hockey game. My hope was that I could find the obscure channel that would broadcast the football game, which I had named the Hypothermia Bowl, and watch it late Saturday afternoon from Mariucci Arena’s hockey press box.
To complicate matters, a huge blizzard was moving into Minnesota late Friday night, and it would be followed by a cold snap. As yet another complication, my recently published book, “Herb Brooks: The Inside Story of a Hockey Mastermind,” is just coming out in paperback. I could pick up my first batch, and possibly sell them at the Gopher-UMD series as the perfect Christmas gift for any hockey fan. Another good reason to stay in the Twin Cities. However, the well-planned weekend started to come apart when a University of Minnesota official said he didn’t have time to contact the right person to get me permission to sell the book Saturday at Mariucci Arena, and no, although there also was a chance the game wouldn’t be played, because if the impending snowstorm caused a traveler’s advisory, the university would shut down, and no events could be held Saturday. Read more
For Duluth, a top-ranked doubleheader
UMD's Matt Haas leaped to spike away a hurried pass by Augustana's Josh Hanson.
By John Gilbert
The two teams put on an unprecedented doubleheader that will rank with Duluth’s greatest sports attractions to engrave Saturday, December 4, 2010, into history. Ranked No. 1 in the nation as the only undefeated team (13-0) in Division II football, UMD beat Augustana 24-13, as 3,083 hardy souls braved the freezing temperature and chilly wind for a justifiable reward at Malosky Stadium. Five hours later, 5,409 overfilled the Duluth Entertainment and Convention Center where UMD, ranked unanimously No. 1 in the nation in Division I hockey, beat Denver in a 2-1 nail-biter to officially end the Bulldogs 45-year residence in the DECC. Read more
About the Author
John Gilbert is a lifetime Minnesotan and career journalist, specializing in cars and sports during and since spending 30 years at the Minneapolis Tribune, now the Star Tribune. More recently, he has continued translating the high-tech world of autos and sharing his passionate insights as a freelance writer/photographer/broadcaster. A member of the prestigious North American Car and Truck of the Year jury since 1993. John can be heard Monday-Friday from 9-11am on 610 KDAL(www.kdal610.com) on the "John Gilbert Show," and writes a column in the Duluth Reader.
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