The Final Call (30 page)

Leaving the ice for the final time in my career, as I raise my helmet high above my head in a farewell gesture to the crowd as well as to the game. It is my last stride before stepping off the ice and into retirement! April 11, 2010.
JIM MCISAAC / GETTY IMAGES

The Hair Evolution 1: 1980s.
PHOTO BY JOHN HARTMAN, COURTESY OF BRUCE BENNETT

The Hair Evolution 2: 1990s.
FRASER FAMILY COLLECTION

The Hair Evolution 3: 2000s.
PHOTO BY JOHN HARTMAN, COURTESY OF BRUCE BENNETT

The Hair Evolution 4: League Imposed Helmet Head! 2007
PHOTO COURTESY OF JUSTSPORTS PHOTOGRAPHY

G
rowing up in Sarnia, 60 miles upriver from Detroit, I was able to watch the Red Wings frequently on television. As a young hockey player, I often made that short journey to play against the Detroit Little Caesars organization, sponsored by the hockey-crazed pizza mogul and future owner of the Detroit Red Wings, Mike Ilitch. My peewee team would play there in a rink that looked like a converted factory, bearing the name “Gordie Howe Hockeyland.”

Before it was known as Hockeytown, USA, Detroit was the home of Mr. Hockey, Gordie Howe. When I was 10 years old, Gordie came to our Sarnia Minor Athletic Association year-end banquet. I was awed to be in his presence. I stood in line to get his autograph, and couldn’t help feeling excited but nervous. He took my program and autographed it, and then gently, with a smile, rubbed my short brush cut, not realizing that one day that hair was going to be famous. Through my 10-year-old eyes, I could see what a true gentle giant Howe was—off the ice. On the ice, however, he was a fierce competitor famed not only for his skill but his toughness.

I experienced that Howe toughness years later—not from Gordie, but from his son, Mark. When I was 19 years old, I played against Mark when he was a member of the Detroit Junior Red Wings. Mark was 16, but he was physically developed beyond his years. I was five-foot-seven and 140 pounds, whereas he was several inches taller and 50 pounds heavier. He had just returned from playing at the 1972 Winter Olympics in Sapporo, Japan, against some of the best players in the world. The U.S. team Mark played for pulled off a miraculous upset by beating the Czechs and Finns to capture a silver medal; the Soviet Union won the gold. That cold night in 1972, my team, the Sarnia Bees, played Mark and his Junior Red Wings in the old Detroit Olympia. We were down a goal, and as the captain of my team, I wanted to make something happen. I saw my chance when a Detroit defenceman floated a long, lazy pass to Mark. I was bearing down on him at full speed, and I timed my hit perfectly. As soon as he received the pass, I hit him head-on with all the force I could generate. I thought I had just run into a brick wall! Neither of us went down after the crisp
pop
sound the open ice hit had produced. I don’t know whether Mark felt any effect of the impact, but my insides vibrated within my rib cage with the force of the hit.

It was at the end of that season that I decided to trade my hockey stick for a whistle. The hit I tried to deliver on Mark Howe that night in the Detroit Olympia was all I needed to convince me that it was time to look for a safer line of work.

While Gordie Howe is still the traditional face of the Red Wings, I am sure that Mr. Hockey would willingly share that distinction with his more recent counterpart, Steve Yzerman. Jim Devellano, the Wings’ general manager at the time, used his first-round pick (fourth overall) in the 1983 draft to land Yzerman, after missing out on Pat LaFontaine, who grew up in the Detroit area and was claimed by the New York Islanders with their number-three pick. While Yzerman may not have been Jimmy D’s first
choice, he went on to become one of the most important players in franchise history: a team captain, a multiple Stanley Cup champion, and a Red Wing for all of his 22 NHL seasons.

In 1988–89, after his team had made back-to-back trips to the Campbell Conference final against Edmonton, Stevie Y’s scoring prowess shifted gears, propelling him to heights normally touched only by Gretzky and Lemieux: 65 goals and 90 assists for 155 points. That spring, he won the Lester B. Pearson Award (the league’s most valuable player as chosen by members of the players’ association) and was a finalist for the Hart Trophy (the league’s MVP award, voted on by NHL writers). Beyond the statistics, the captain brought a level of intensity and leadership to every game that was seldom demonstrated by others. To say that Steve Yzerman is a classy, friendly individual off the ice would be an understatement; he is one of the best. But his demeanour was often much less friendly during a game. He brought such an intense desire to win every night that no one was immune to the wrath he could inflict. Steve demanded as much out of everyone around him as he did of himself. If he felt someone—whether it was a teammate or, as in my case, the guy in stripes—wasn’t giving enough or had made an error, they heard about it immediately. People talk about Mark Messier and “The Look”—his patented death stare—but I can tell you that Steve had a look that could blow open the door of a bank vault. There were many times when it was directed at me, particularly in the early to mid-1990s.

In spite of Steve’s phenomenal scoring numbers, not to mention the addition of players such as Dino Ciccarelli, Sergei Fedorov, Ray Sheppard, Paul Coffey, Jimmy Carson, and Nicklas Lidström, the team had not yet won a Stanley Cup. Worse yet, a series of early exits from the playoffs fuelled rumours that the captain was going to be traded to Ottawa. Scotty Bowman, who took over as the Wings’ coach in 1993, had a rigid coaching style that emphasized two-way play. On occasion, he would clash with offensive stars
over this philosophy. Yzerman became Scotty’s project—or target, depending on whom you asked. I actually didn’t mind it when Stevie Y was feuding with Scotty during the early stages of his transition from a scoring machine to a strong defensive forward. He tended to leave me alone at these times, and instead focused his anger and frustration on the man behind the bench. Being the ultimate leader and team player that he is, Yzerman eventually bought in the defensive responsibilities that Bowman demanded of him. As a result, Stevie Y is generally regarded as one of the best two-way players in the history of the games and Scotty Bowman is considered the greatest coach.

In 1995, Steve led the Red Wings to their first Stanley Cup final series since 1966. As I worked that series, it became obvious that Detroit didn’t quite have what it took to win the Cup. It seemed to me that the Wings were content just to have arrived and did not fully understand how to finish the job. Their education was provided by the New Jersey Devils, who swept in four straight games. Two years later, they were back, and it was clear that they had learned their lessons well, as they swept the Philadelphia Flyers to win the Cup for the first time in 42 years. I worked Game Three and stood by as the backup referee for Game Four in Detroit, and I got a first-hand look at how “the Captain” would not be denied the chance to hoist the Cup at home. There was a wonderful mood of celebration on the ice and in the stands, but unfortunately, it spilled out into the streets, as it had in Montreal in 1993. The Detroit police escorted our officiating crew, with wives in tow, over the Ambassador Bridge to Windsor, Ontario. Kathy sat beside me in the van and squeezed my arm tightly in fear as we drove past burning cars and looters and raced through red lights toward the safety of our Canadian hotel.

In spite of the negative aftermath, I will forever remember the boyish joy displayed by Steve Yzerman, as all of his effort, heart, and leadership came to fruition and he finally got to raise the Cup
over his head. He went on to do so twice more, in 1998 and 2002. In 2001–02, he not only led the team to victory, but did it through excruciating pain after re-injuring his knee and missing 30 games. During those playoffs, he was effectively playing on one leg. I remember watching Steve win a race to a loose puck through sheer will as he hobbled like a wounded deer looking to the forest for cover. The pain that was etched on his face was overshadowed only by the grit and determination to win the battle, no matter the cost. He would not give in to the pain or to a younger, healthier opponent. You needed to have the vantage point that his teammates, opponents, or I had to truly appreciate just how amazing his accomplishments were. How could a teammate not be inspired by his courage and effort? I know I was. When I was awakened in the middle of the night due to the arthritic pain in my left knee, in which I had long since blown out my ACL and cartilage as a 16-year-old, I only had to recall Yzerman’s fortitude.

As intense as Steve Yzerman could be on the ice, he demonstrated the same degree of kindness and caring for others off of it. On a bleak, frigid morning in February 2001, I was waiting for Kathy’s niece, Margaret Krumholtz, and her family. Margaret had been battling a very rare form of cancer for four months, but was determined to attend an NHL game between Detroit and Toronto at my invitation. She would meet her favourite Leaf, Tie Domi, after the morning skate at Joe Louis Arena. Margaret was snuggled in a blanket and seated in her wheelchair, while her husband and their two teenage daughters stood by her side as they waited for their Leaf heroes to appear. Scotty Bowman very kindly invited the family on a tour of the Red Wings’ dressing room. Yzerman and Darren McCarty were leaving when they noticed Margaret and her family with me in the hallway. They very graciously returned to meet the family and pose for pictures. The life and sparkle returned to Margaret’s big, beautiful brown eyes one last time. It was a very memorable day for all of us, myself included. She lost
her battle with cancer on May 21, 2001, but told her husband, Gary, before she passed, that that game in Detroit was one of the most special moments of her life. Sometimes we are led to believe the National Hockey League is just a game or a business, that it’s not life or death. On this particular day, however, for one courageous hockey fan and her family, the NHL and its players represented life in the face of death.