Mike Vaccaro

Mike Vaccaro

NHL

After fans call for Talbot, Henrik responds with gem

OK. So here’s my theory:

Sports fans in New York City are so advanced, so sophisticated, so attuned to the powers they possess in the overall sporting universe that they conspired Thursday and Friday to make certain that Henrik Lundqvist — the real one, the one who showed up for work Friday night at Amalie Arena in Tampa, Fla., and stonewalled the Lightning — would materialize, as opposed to the imposter who wore his gear for Games 2 and 3.

Why not?

Really, isn’t that just the next step in the process, in the way that sports fans believe — don’t just think, don’t just ponder, don’t just speculate, but believe — that we can influence the way things turn out in games that we really, truly, overwhelmingly care about? Isn’t that the inevitable step to take once we’ve exhausted all the talismans, all the lucky charms, all the rally caps and rally couches and rally positions?

So yes, I think it’s entirely plausible that enough Rangers fans believe in the power of the reverse jinx that together they jammed radio lines, together they clogged email inboxes, together they were inspired to ask if
Cam Talbot should replace Lundqvist for Game 4 because by doing this, it was a drop-dead cold lock that Lundqvist would return to form in Game 4, which is exactly what he did, which is exactly what the fans ultimately wanted.

If that’s the way it worked out, well, bravo.

We know intellectually none of this is real, of course, that none of the things we do to try and influence the games actually influence the games. But, then, we know we shouldn’t really care about sports as much as we do, and we usually emphasize that point about six whole seconds before doing something that only reinforces the point.

“Honestly, why do you care so much about Richard Todd?” my father sternly asked me late one Sunday afternoon in the fall of 1981. “Do you think he cares about you? Do you think he cares how you do on your algebra test? Do you think he cares if you make the basketball team? Do you think he …”

This lecture was interrupted by Richard Todd throwing a touchdown pass on our living room television to Jerome Barkum, allowing the Jets to beat the bleepin’ Dolphins, 16-15, an event that shouldn’t have mattered to my father — neither Todd nor Barkum had called lately to offer concern if Western Union was about to go on strike, which would make his life extra miserable if it happened — but it mattered enough to send him leaping off the couch (he stuck the landing, even if the East German judge only gave him a 7.2) and into a joyful spasm that he knew had just invalidated all the pearls of wisdom he had just distributed.

And didn’t care.

I have another friend who refused nature’s call across all 16 innings of the Mets-Astros playoff game in 1986, and I have to believe he hasn’t yet stopped paying for that decision. I learned the immediate impact of social media not long after joining Twitter in 2009, because I had the temerity to mention that a pitcher at a game I was working hadn’t allowed a hit through three innings. Three innings.

“YOU SHOULD BE FIRED!” came one chorus.

“WHAT’S THE MATTER WITH YOU?!?!?” came another.

“YOU’RE A ##$%!” “NO, YOU’RE A ##$&%$!!” “NO! HE’S AN $#$@x%x%!!!!”

Because, apparently, I am a master of the universe, and didn’t even know it.

Actually, that’s not true. Of course I knew it. Of course there have been days when I have had a rooting interest and whatever I was doing at the time — chin in hands, ignoring an itch, not looking at the screen — is what

I chose to do for as long as the good stuff kept happening. So I know. Oh yes, I know. And that is why I salute you, Rangers fans. You knew exactly what you were doing. Almost none of you who called for Cam Talbot really wanted Cam Talbot.

You really wanted Henrik Lundqvist back. And you got him, just in the nick of time. Bravo.

Whack back at Vac

Alan Hirschberg: Years ago a beer company introduced new packaging and a barfly was asked about it: “As long as they don’t mess with the beer,” he said. When the DH was introduced, The Post’s Larry Merchant wrote:  “Baseball just messed with the beer.” Extra points from the 15? The NFL just messed with the beer.

Vac: Even better: Every fan who believes the fates are conspiring against their team is CONVINCED their team will be the first to lose on a blown PAT.

Richard Monahan: Whatever you thought of the “Mad Men” finale, the Stan-Peggy plot was right out of a “Friends” episode — all that was missing was a studio audience screaming their approval. A sad dip into sentimental for a series that should’ve been above such a thing.

Vac: I could’ve done without that, yeah. But the ending … I went from poised to throw my remote control to 100 percent satisfaction in about 15 seconds. Grand slam. Next round of worldwide Cokes on me.

@MrMetKevC: I just want one legit hitter in the Mets’ lineup … is that too much to ask?

@MikeVacc: What, you haven’t yet grown fond of Kevin Campbell’s body of work?

James H. Burns: I have to challenge anyone who thinks playing “Piano Man” at Citi Field in the eighth inning is a good idea. Do we really want a song about a sanguine bunch of alcoholics as a sub-theme song for our baseball team? Surely, “New York State of Mind,” or another Billy Joel tune, would be a far better choice!

Vac: And is also — as I am sure most of our fellow Joel-o-philes would agree — a much better song.

Vac’s whacks

Isiah Thomas in charge of a women’s basketball team? The only thing more ridiculous than that would be MLB putting Fred Wilpon in charge of its finance committee.


This Tuesday is the day Foley’s, the city’s quintessential sports saloon, has one of its coolest days of the year, inducting a fresh class into its Irish-American Baseball Hall of Fame. It’s a terrific list, too: Bill Murray, Mike Sweeney, Jack McKeon, Dave O’Brien. But the star will be Shannon Forde, the Mets’ superb PR exec, who has shown a whole lot of grouchy ballplayers and grumpy sportswriters the real meaning of courage the past few years. That’s one nominee would’ve gotten a unanimous ballot from the scribes, guaranteed.


Couldn’t AMC have given Roger Sterling the Saul Goodman treatment?


We officially have run out of things to complain about if we’re going to criticize pro athletes for being too attentive as fathers.