Win, Lose or Check, NHL Tosses It Out

A squid lands on the ice in Los Angeles, a Marty McSorley lands on the ice in Toronto and a hockey neophyte is easily confused.

Which of these quaint yet bizarre little rituals is supposed to signify playoff victory? Which is supposed to signify defeat? And do any of them signify that too many calamari chefs are taking their work home with them?

A primer:

Quaint Yet Bizarre Ritual: Squid Tossing.

The reason Kings fans have recently taken to turning the Forum floor from ice rink to seafood platter has everything to do with enthusiasm and nothing to do with originality. Squid tossing--or octopus hurling, as it is known in more traditional circles--began in 1952, in Detroit, which figures.

From Marcel Dionne to Jimmy Carson to Barry Melrose, what haven’t the Kings stolen from Detroit?

According to The Official National Hockey League Stanley Cup Centennial Book, “The first recorded tossing of an octopus onto the Detroit Olympia’s ice surface occurred during the second period of the final game of the 1952 finals between Montreal and Detroit. The appearance of the eight-legged creature, meant to represent the eight games it took Detroit to sweep through the playoffs that season, brought this announcement over the PA system: ‘Octopi shall not occupy the ice. Please refrain from throwing same.’ ”

That much we know.

What remains a mystery:

1. How does one sneak a dead octopus into a hockey arena? “Oh, this? I decided to bring my lunch today.”

2. What is the proper means of storage for a dead octopus at a hockey game? Chilled Tupperware, air-tight resealable Baggie or dripping paper bag that clears out all of Sections A and B?

3. What does one do with a dead octopus if the favorite team loses? Bring it along to the neighborhood sports bar while one indulges in a medicinal postgame beer? “Excuse me, is that a dead octopus in your pocket, or does your team stink?”

Quaint Yet Bizarre Ritual: McSorley Tossing.

“I never thought they’d put me in the goon squad,” Elvis Costello once sang. Not so with Martin J. McSorley, who owes much of his 10-year NHL career to moments such as Monday night in Toronto, Kings down by three goals late in Game 1, Maple Leaf center Doug Gilmour alone and vulnerable and there for the nailing.

McSorley went flying at Gilmour with elbows pointed and high--those elbows will be bronzed and sent to the Hockey Hall of Fame upon McSorley’s retirement--in order to: a) avenge Gilmour’s vicious slashing of King Tomas Sandstrom earlier in the season; b) avenge Gilmour’s brutal check of King Alexei Zhitnik earlier in Game 1, and c) to “send a message” to the Maple Leafs.

The message, basically, was that the Kings don’t like losing 4-1 games to the Maple Leafs in the playoffs.

McSorley’s body slam incited the ceremonial First Bench-Clearing Brawl of the series--another time-honored Stanley Cup ritual--and was (of course) derided by the Maple Leafs as a cheap shot and applauded by the Kings as a necessary show of force, manliness, a preference for Steven Seagal movies, an aversion to cucumber sandwiches, etc., etc.

This prompted the tossing of many more items onto the ice, notably one wooden crutch, which, to anyone’s knowledge at Maple Leaf Gardens, was unprecedented. “Somebody will be limping home tonight,” King announcer Bob Miller ably observed.

Quaint Yet Bizarre Ritual: Cheek Puffing.

This is a secret code between hockey coaches, seen most recently Monday night when L.A.’s Barry Melrose turned and puffed his cheeks, as if they were filled with Haagen-Dazs, in the direction of Toronto’s Pat Burns.

Deciphering the code: Melrose thinks Burns is fat.

“I could have said, ‘Have another doughnut,’ ” Melrose said afterward, echoing perhaps the most famous coach’s refrain in Stanley Cup playoff history--New Jersey’s Jim Schoenfeld to pot-bellied referee Don Koharski after a controversial defeat in the 1988 semifinals: “Have another doughnut, you fat pig.”

But those immortal words resulted in an immediate suspension for Schoenfeld, a court injunction to restore Schoenfeld behind the Devil bench, a strike by Koharski and the other officials assigned to the series, threats of lawsuits and countersuits--really--so Melrose spared himself a good bit of grief by saying the same thing while saying nothing at all.

Now Melrose is no lightweight himself, and he works for the portliest owner in the league, but here is where hockey differs from baseball and basketball, which made folk heroes of Tom Lasorda and Frank Layden.

In hockey, you can slash a man, spear a man, blind-side a man, and it’s accepted as an inevitable part of the game.

But mock a man’s waist size?

In hockey, that is regarded as hitting below the belt.

Quaint Yet Bizarre Ritual: Doughnut Tossing.

And guess what’s coming Friday night to the Forum, site of Game 3?

Too obvious, yes, but that’s precisely why radio station XTRA, which broadcasts Kings games, spent much of Tuesday afternoon lobbying for it. Hockey humor is never subtle.

But since the word is out, Game 3 ticket holders are best advised: Winchell’s boxes will be searched at the door.