14 - The Michigan Daily - Monday; August 3, 1998
Continued from Page 12
school's enormous fan and alumni
According to the terms announced
at Thursday's press conference, 50
percent of the advertising for the
game can be sold by Michigan.
Another way Goss envisions the
cyber-department helping other
sports will involve a television deal
for a weekly, year-round Michigan
sports magazine. The program would
be produced in the new TV studio
being installed in Crisler Arena and
negotiations are under way. The show,
scheduled to run throughout the
school year, would feature all
Michigan sports, and all content
would be controlled by the athletic
Even the athletic department's web-
site would be tapped to bring in
money for the department. Goss said
he eventually hopes to create a sub-
scribers-only section - a "value-
added side," he said - in addition to
the free section.
But "you'll always be able to come
-to our website and get the basics.
"It's an opportunity for a new rev-
enue stream," Goss said.
Goss pointed out that during the
first two Ohio State games broadcast
via the website, the site registered 3.8
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Shields, Turco do it,
for old times sake
When the Blue and White teams took the ice for the under-35 Michigan
-----________- Hockey Old Timers game Friday, it was just a fun exhibi-
tion game - the score did not matter. Featuring recent
Hockey Michigan hockey graduates from David Oliver to Brendan
Commentmr Morrison, with 2,000 fans on hand to watch - about
_ . 1,985 more than last year - the players were just therel
to have a good time. But as the game developed, some-
thing interested happened (With apologies to Ernest Lawrence Thayer) .,,
B Shields on the Wing
Former Michigan goaltender Marty Turco didn't mind that his Blue team lost Friday's
Michigan Old Timer's hockey game, 6-5, because Steve Shields didn't score on him.
By Josh Kleinbaum
Daily Sports Editor
The outlook wasn't brilliant for the White Six that day,
The score stood 0 to 2 just five minutes into play.
And Blue had a player, Morrison was his name,
who left the White fans feeling sick - they hadn't a chance in the game.
A straggling few got up to go, the block M' on their chest,
the rest clung to the hope which springs eternal in the human breast.
They needed a secret weapon, something to take Blue by surprise,
When backup goalie Loges left the bench, a glimmer in his eyes.
He spoke to starter Shields, then took his place in the crease
while Steve headed to the lockerroom, his mind not at peace.
And the game played on, Al Loges in the goal.
But Blue continued strong - its offense did not lull.
Then from 2,000 throats and more there rose a lusty cheer.
It rumbled throughout Yost - Blue's team was struck with fear.
The fans rose to their feet, the women began to sing,
for Shields, mighty Shields, was going to play wing.
He headed towards center ice, gliding on his skates.
He gazed at the opposing goal, his teeth clenched in hate.
Marty Turco returned the stare, clutching his goalie stick.
To be scored on by Shields would be the ultimate embarrassment.
And the two teams continued to play, but Blue still played well
They were pretty dominant - Shields was held in check, you could tell.
The lead was 4to 2 when things got interesting.
If White could score the next goal, they could still win this thing.
Shields received a pass at his own blue line
and headed towards the other goal but was tripped from behind.
Shields fell to the ice, and the referee's whistle blew.
What would come of it? A penalty shot, he knew.
Four-thousand eyes were on him as he got back on his skates,
Two-thousand tongues applauded when he winked at his linemates.
Then, while Marty Turco ground his glove into his hip,
Defiance gleamed in Shields' eye, a sneer curled Shields' lip.
And now at center ice, Referee Mel Pearson placed the puck,
and Shields, skating towards it, thanked God for his luck.
The transformed winger grabbed the puck and down the ice he sped.
In the stands, the crowd watched silent, from the press down to Coach Red.
Marty Turco, in the crease, is waiting patiently.
He bangs his stick upon the ice for Steve Shields to see.
"Kill him, kill the goalie!" shouts someone in the stand.
But Turco, not distracted, focuses on the task at hand.
The sneer is gone from Shields' lip, his teeth are clenched in hate.
He fakes to his right, but Turco doesn't take the bait.
And now he goes to his left, and now his stick is cocked.
And now the air is shattered by the force of Shields' shot.
Oh! somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright.
The Marching Band plays somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light.
And somewhere men are laughing, somewhere kids have fun.
But there is no joy in Yost - mighty Shields missed this one.
WE MIGHT BE DUMB SPORTS GUYS (AND GALS),
BUT WE WRITE POEMS, TOO.