Stealth is often misunderstood as a valuable force in sports. The idea of a team sneaking up on their perceived betters is considered one of the most invigorating things in any game.
Except now and then a team does that and nobody notices, turning stealth into something closer to anonymity. The world goes around them while they quietly toil, and before anyone realizes it, there they are, from dead in the water to riding the big wave.
Which brings us to those humblest of operations, the San Jose Sharks. Their ongoing struggle with the closing of their bay window has taken an unexpectedly positive turn of late, and they went from being a dull, even occasionally repellent team to an efficient if not necessarily invigorating one. They have taken on the look and personality of their coach, Peter DeBoer, and after 2½ months of feel-out stumbling, they have become a model of utilitarian consistency.
Why, they don’t even stink at home any more. Quelle surprise!
Pulling a date out of the air to make our case (a common typist’s trick, we admit), the Sharks have been the fourth best team in the NHL since December 15. They have done this without anyone grabbing the nation’s lapels, or stringing together an improbable winning streak, or making a dramatic trade to adjust the chemistry. They weren’t that interesting as a losing team, and they’re not that amazing a winning one.
But they are winning, consistently. Only Chicago, Washington and Anaheim have been better in the past two months, by record and by goal differential, and the team that was a dismal bottom-dweller in the misery farm that is the Pacific Division is now a pretty solid 2-3, which means a 5-6 in the playoff table – married in the NHL’s latest cockamamie system to a first-round playoff series with mostly likely with the Ducks, and the winner drawing Los Angeles in all likelihood – a festival of California hockey that almost makes up for the fact that this may very well be the first year since 1970 that there have been no Canadian teams.
Their power play is elite. Their penalty kill is workmanlike. Their 5x5 work is at least break-even, and their defense (goalie and out) has been decent enough to keep them from getting run out of games early. Their advanced metrics are not eye-popping either, but they are comprehending DeBoer’s demands enough to become a reliable puck-possession team again.
Joe Pavelski is a fairly automatic figure, and so, in his own way, is Joe Thornton. Brent Burns is, well, Brent Burns, and the phalanx of young players that are inserted here and there, while hardly incandescent, give the Sharks a better balance between top six and next 12 than they’ve had in years. In a league increasingly dependent on speed, the Sharks are not, but they don’t let their relative pokiness get in the way of what they do well.
In other words, they stopped being bad, and are now proud members of that amorphous blob of decent bordering on good teams without actually impinging on the top four. They could indeed be that second-level playoff team known as “the tough out.”
In the Age Of Curry, when points per jaw-drop are now a valued metric, the Sharks’ method of repair doesn’t gather a lot of notice, not even here. They have sold out only eight games going into Thursday night’s game with Calgary, a testament to what they used to do and more so to what their customers demand of them. A discerning fan base does not support a team that cannot even win at home, and it is to the Sharks’ attendance base’s credit that it chooses to be shown rather than to blindly hope.
But they also do not ignore improvement, no matter how incremental or subtle. They hated last year, and rightly so, and entered this year with bucketsful of proper skepticism which the Sharks did everything to reinforce.
Now? Well, let’s put it this way for you non-shinnyists. They’re not the Warriors, but neither are they the 49ers. Right now, they’re kind of the Giants, more or less. More more right now than less. By the most important metric of all, they are this:
Watchable. Undramatic, unmagical, but solidly watchable. If that doesn’t suit you, well, you can always pretend it’s still 2009, for all the fun that’ll get you.