The Final Call (40 page)

Of course, it would be counterproductive to dwell on those things. All that matters now for these teams is the task at hand. As the legendary baseball pitcher Satchel Paige said, “Don’t look back. Something might be gaining on you.” With all that is riding on the result of the game, it is vital for the players and game officials alike to remain in the moment and not be snared by the temptation to reflect on a missed opportunity or call. I believe there are two key ingredients that will play a role in the outcome of the game this afternoon: the first is which team wants it the
most and is prepared to sacrifice in all areas of the game; the second, and possibly most critical, is goaltending. It all boils down to who stops the puck. I don’t envy the pressure that Henrik Lundqvist of the Rangers and Brian Boucher of the Flyers must be feeling.

It strikes me as somewhat odd that Ranger coach John Tortorella has started his fourth line of Artem Anisimov, Brandon Prust, and Jody Shelley. Peter Laviolette of the Flyers has countered with the powerful grouping of Jeff Carter, Scott Hartnell, and Daniel Brière. But it doesn’t take long for Tortorella’s confidence in his crash-and-bang line to be rewarded. Shelley sets himself up perfectly in front of Boucher and redirects a blast from the point by defenceman Michal Rozsíval for a 1–0 lead just 3:27 into the first period. The goal is Shelley’s second of the year; his first was scored two nights ago in the 4–3 win over the Flyers. I guess you could say that Jody saves his goals for big games.

Lundqvist is called upon early to make multiple saves as the Flyers, who seem to be the team with more energy in the early going, generate many golden scoring opportunities. They say it’s good to be lucky and lucky to be good, and Henrik has a little bit of luck going his way when Mike Richards, Matt Carle, and Simon Gagné all rip shots past him that hit nothing but the iron crossbar. At the end of the first period, he has stopped all 18 shots the Flyers fire at him, compared with the four that his teammates manage against Boucher. But the only stat that matters at this stage is Jody Shelley’s lone goal.

The players want to play, so Kelly and I let them. We don’t impose ourselves unnecessarily. It’s not until 6:49 of the first period that Kelly calls the first penalty, against Brandon Dubinsky for tripping. The only other call of the period is at 11:33, when I whistle Brière for a similar infraction. Each game has a unique heartbeat, and if you interfere with that by overcalling the game, it flatlines. You also risk generating a negative flow of emotions directed toward the officials.

At each commercial timeout, I duck into the Flyers’ penalty box, where our commercial co-ordinator, Scott Adams, has another of my nine game jerseys at the ready. I sit low on a chair in a corner of the box and discreetly switch jerseys. Midway through the second period, I find myself sharing the space with Daniel Brière, who is serving a coincidental roughing minor (Rozsíval is in the Rangers’ box). Needless to say, his appeal for parole is to no avail.

Once I’ve changed, Kelly and I take a few moments to compare notes on how the game has progressed since the previous timeout. Most often, though, I am left with my thoughts of other games and experiences in this building—and across the parking lot at the Spectrum, the original home of the Broad Street Bullies.

My very first game at the Spectrum was not actually as a referee. In April 1975, I was sitting at home on a rare Sunday morning off, having just returned from an American Hockey League game the night before, when the phone rang at 8 a.m. On the other end of the line was NHL referee-in-chief Scotty Morrison, who asked me to get to Philadelphia right away for the game that night. Linesman Claude Béchard had hurt his back the night before in New York, and I was apparently the only NHL-contracted official available to join linesman Leon Stickle and referee Wally Harris.

The Broad Street Bullies, who would beat the Buffalo Sabres four games to two that year to win the Stanley Cup for the second consecutive year, were playing the Atlanta Flames that night. The Spectrum was an intimidating place to enter for the first time. I wasn’t just intimidated by the thought of throwing Bobby Clarke out of a faceoff (which wasn’t going to happen), but by working with these two veteran officials, even though they did their very best to make me feel welcome. Leon was a loose and funny guy.
He would tell a joke and laugh loudly before he even got to the punchline; just a great guy to be around.

Things went pretty well in the game; by the middle of the third period, the Flyers were ahead 5–2 and there had been only one fight that didn’t amount to much. The Flames had shown little interest in going 15 rounds with any of the Bullies that night, which made for a good first visit for me. Stickle handed me the puck for a faceoff in the Atlanta zone and told me to wait before I dropped it because there was a TV commercial timeout. I asked how I would know when the break was over, and Stick (or “Tickle with an S,” as he would often say) told me he would let me know. I told Clarke and the Flames centre to hold on, and they waited patiently as I stood and awaited further instructions from the senior linesman. Finally, Wally Harris skated over and said, “Can I ask what the hell you’re waiting for to drop that puck?” I said I was waiting for the commercial to end. Wally looked at me as if I had two heads and said, “You dumb-ass, the game isn’t even televised! Drop the puck and let’s get the hell out of here before they [the Flyers] wake up!” Then, he added, “And don’t listen to Stickle anymore.”

I laugh quietly to myself at the memory. This game
is
being televised, and now the commercial break is over and it’s back to work. At the end of the first period, Jody Shelley has a nick on the bridge of his nose and says Mike Richards high-sticked him as they both went to their benches for a line change. None of us saw it, and Shelley is more upset at Richards than with us as the period ends, causing words to be exchanged between the two on the way to their dressing rooms. At the start of the second period, I approach Shelley and tell him the officiating crew discussed the line change and none of us saw what had taken place; after apologizing for
the oversight, I suggest that he let it go. I tell him he’s playing great, and recall instances from my 30-year career when the team that won the Cup did so on the backs of their fourth-line players. In particular, I mention Randy McKay and Mike Peluso’s major contribution to one of the New Jersey Devils’ Cup victories. I close by warning him to stay disciplined and not to screw it up—I can tell that he’s very focused today, and I just want to make sure that he stays that way. A focused Jody Shelley and his linemates, coming out hard for their first shift of the second period, are rewarded with two good scoring chances off the Flyers’ turnovers they force.

There are certain players who have a feel for the pulse of both the game and their team. A team leader like Philadelphia’s Ian Laperrière knows exactly when to light the fire. Down a goal, and with the Rangers’ fourth line coming out hard at the start of the period, Laperrière lines up for a faceoff in the neutral zone opposite Aaron Voros, who’s always a willing combatant. When the puck is dropped, so are the gloves, and the hometown crowd scores the fight a win for Lappy. Whatever the outcome, Laperrière has accomplished what he set out to do. On his way to the penalty box, he pumps his fists as the crowd erupts in cheers to energize their heroes. He has lit the fire again.

Now seated in the penalty box following the fight, Laperrière puts his sweater back on after adjusting his equipment. I sit on the chair beside him, taking my own sweater off and putting on a fresh one. With a puzzled look, he asks what I am doing. I tell him of my plan to wear nine in this, my final game. On the spot, Lappy asks me if he can buy one. I laugh, but he says, “No, I’m really serious. I want one of your jerseys.” When I tell them they are for my kids, he asks if I would adopt him! I have seen Ian Laperrière perform over many seasons since his rookie year in 1994. He’s a true warrior and has been a spiritual leader of every hockey club he has been on. He does whatever it takes to get the job done, and
has earned the respect of players and officials all around the NHL. I am going to miss interactions like these with quality guys like Lappy.

Stepping out of the penalty box, I almost trip over one of the ice girls as they scrape the ice near the blue line. I have a flashback to lying on my back and looking up into the face of Flyers athletic therapist Jim McCrossin from a similar vantage point, at the Spectrum in 1982–83.

The Flyers’ guests that evening were the Calgary Flames, and I found out the hard way that Calgary defenceman Richie Dunn could hit the bull’s eye with his shot. The Flyers had attempted a pass out of their zone, and Dunn stepped out of nowhere to intercept it. I was chasing the play out of the Flyers’ zone on the same side that Richie was on. Since he was under some pressure—about to be levelled by a check—he wound up and took his best slapper to pound the puck back into the Flyers’ end. The problem was, I was only 20 feet away, and directly in his sights.
Pow!
I thought I had been hit by a cannonball as the shot drove me backwards, shattering my protective cup. Down I went, lying on my back with the feeling (or lack thereof) that my manhood had been damaged beyond repair. I didn’t just see stars, I caught a glimpse of the entire universe!

Usually, the treatment for a contusion is to rub the injured area, but neither Jim McCrossin nor I was about to do that. Eventually, I returned to my feet and Richie offered an apology. By now, I was able to smile, and I told him—in a voice two octaves higher than usual—that I was just glad it was he who shot the puck and not Lanny McDonald or Kevin LaVallee, who could really wire it. I’ve always found that when it hurts that much, it’s always better to try to laugh.

Neither team is laughing today, though. The Flyers are pouring it on offensively, and the Rangers’ slim lead is holding up purely on the strength of Henrik Lundqvist’s exceptional play in goal. At 11:29 of the second period, the Flyers’ other tough guy (and resident actor) Daniel Carcillo draws a penalty against P.A. Parenteau. Parenteau placed his stick near Carcillo’s feet, he felt the pressure, and went with the contact, snaking his leg on the way down to make sure Kelly sees he has been tripped. Daniel Carcillo is a good kid. He’s a solid player with both skill and toughness, and he has become extremely effective. He’ll learn the hard way, especially as a tough guy, that it’s better to try to fight through some pressure than to use it to draw a foul and embarrass the ref and the game.