PLAYOFF BEARD: SEAN AVERY IN HOSPITAL

by Neate Sager, Out Of Left Field

Sean Avery in hospital won't put a stop to the joking.

The N.Y. Daily News is reporting that the New York Rangers agitator, the greatest performance artist Manhattan has seen who didn't work in Greenwich Village, was taken to hospital last night, "unconscious and not breathing" with a lacerated spleen. The denials have come fast and furious, which just makes you wonder if Avery, shades of Andy Kaufman, figured the only stunt he hadn't pulled was to fake his own death.

No doubt a few puckheads seethed, "I hope he dies." Avery tends to push people's buttons that way. Avery isn't the first NHL player to suffer a serious spleen injury. Hall of Famer Doug Harvey, the greatest defenceman in the 30 years between Eddie Shore and Bobby Orr, once got injured so badly that a priest was called in to administer the last rites. Still, it does give pause when you read it, and it makes you think about how people receive Sean Avery.

This is the one guy in a blinkered, old-boys-club sport, run by killjoys for killjoys who actually understands that a pro athlete in 2008 is an entertainer. Alex Ovechkin, the Russian superstar on the Washington Capitals, seems to understand this on some level. He's there to get a reaction.

Anyone else gets a serious spleen injury, it's like, "he's gonna be OK." With Avery, it's like, "Hey, maybe he'll die! And he's 28 years old, same age as Heath Ledger! Eerie."

Point being, there's genuine concern since Avery's act is so enjoyable. He is smart enough to know that he's not getting paid boatloads of cash for what he can do with a six-ounce piece of rubber while skating 30 miles per hour. He's got a great shtick going, and we should cherish him for that.

The obvious contrast is Sidney Crosby. The Kid might be the greatest since Gretzky, but he's also about as appealing as dry white toast (plus, he's a whiner). Girls think he's cute and kids wear Pittsburgh Penguins jerseys, but for the 30-something frustrated former benchwarmers, Sean Avery is the guy.

All of his off-ice enthusiasms -- dating starlets, showing up in a Manhattan madam's little black book, interning at Vogue -- have the quality of being extraordinarily self-aware, like Madonna back in the day. Avery's done very well at getting more mileage out of his name than his otherwise ordinary talent would ever get him.

At the end of the day, they need him. He's showing everyone that's it's just a game, and he keeps the self-important TV and radio talkers in Canada in clover.

Here's hoping he's OK. Hockey without Sean Avery would just be too boring.