Veni, Vidi, Vito: Playoff Nameoff

Pavel Datsyuk

“He was with the Interior Ministry. Guy's like a Russian green beret. He cannot come back and tell this story. You understand?”

- Tony Soprano, “Pine Barrens”

It seems Vito has skated onto the Pavel Datsyuk Zamboniwagon.

I am the first to admit that the Detroit Red Wings Russian superstar has been slicker and more slippery than the ice he skates on.

But Vito is rubbing in the fact that he and Pavel originally hail from the same part of the world, and the rest of us in the Pedersen household don’t.

He is turning against Sicily and embracing the “Siberian” part of his huskiness, demanding that we change his name during the NHL playoffs. Vito wants to go with something more “Russian.”

I’ve had three teenagers. When they get an idea in their heads, you are better off letting them go with it, then its success or failure rests solely on them. It also helps, if the idea is relatively benign, to try and be supportive.

So I suggested a few names, those with Russian roots, that we actually called some of our former pets.

“What about Misha?” I asked, remembering the dog with the big brown eyes.

Vito jabbed his paw into his mouth like he was going to throw up.

“How about Sergei, as in Sergei Federov?" I asked. "He was a great Red Wing, like Datsyuk.”

He blinked a couple of times, which I interpreted as we were getting close, but not quite there.

“Let me think,” I said. “There was once this great Red Wings Defenseman named Vladimir Konstantinov. He was strong and powerful. And since Vito and Vladdy both start with the same letter, we won’t even have to change your monogramed towels.”

Vito barked loud and proud.

“That was easy,” I said. “Let’s toast your new playoff name.”

I grabbed a couple of glasses and poured us some orange juice.

"To Vladdy," I said, hoisting my glass, but Vito's remained untouched.

“What’s wrong now?" I asked.

With his nose, he pointed to a bottle of Smirnoff.

Nostrovia.