0005090103
DETROIT FREE PRESS
000509
Tuesday, May 09, 2000
METRO FINAL
1C
MITCH ALBOM
Copyright (c) 2000, Detroit Free Press
SHANAHAN'S QUESTION MAY GO UNANSWERED
THEY showered in silence. They dressed in silence. Brendan Shanahan dressed
faster than most. He was on fire, burning from the inside. He exited swiftly,
avoiding eye contact. He got on the bus with his head down.
This was last Friday night, in Colorado, where the hockey season ended so
ignobly for Detroit. Shanahan could not speak to reporters. He barely spoke to
anyone. In the two days that followed, when family members asked about the
series, "It was like talking about a death," he says.
True competitors die a little with every loss, but there were two daggers
sticking in Shanahan's heart this time. First, and more crucial, was the Red
Wings' stunning defeat at the hands of the Avalanche.
Second was how little Shanahan could do to stop it.
His playing time had steadily decreased since the start of the playoffs. For
some reason, he was no longer used on the first power-play unit -- even though
he led the team in goals this year.
And then, in Friday's season finale, Shanahan was demoted to the fourth line,
getting little ice time until the game was all but out of reach.
He wanted to do more. He felt fresh. He felt unwrapped. He wanted to scream,
"Use me!" But in hockey, you don't speak up, you wait for them to call you.
Scotty Bowman, for whatever reason, did not call him often.
The Wings lost. The season ended.
No explanation was given.
Then came Monday.
Bursting the outburst bubble
Shanahan arrived at Joe Louis Arena, like his teammates, to clean out his
locker, take the final team picture, and say so long. Naturally, the media
were there. And naturally, because Shanahan's name had been atop the list of
"players who didn't do what they were supposed to do" -- which in his case
meant score -- the questions came fast.
Are you disappointed? ...Why didn't you do more? ...How much of this was your
fault?
And Shanahan spoke.
Or, to hear some reporters tell it, "He went off!" "He let them have it!"
Well. I've heard that before. Makes for a good headline -- especially when
there are no games left to cover.
But if you really examine what Shanahan said in his "explosion," you'll see it
was pretty measured stuff. I spoke to Shanahan later Monday night, and he was
already concerned that his words would be deemed an outburst rather than
honesty.
"I spoke up because I felt like I was dying. I want my future here. I want to
play with these guys and this coach. I think we've got more Stanley Cups in
us, I really do. I thought we had one in us this year.
"When I walked in today, (the media) threw a lot of questions at me. They
asked me how I felt. I said I felt extremely disappointed, frustrated, angry
and disillusioned -- not only because we lost, but because I wasn't given more
opportunity to help the team.
"I didn't want more ice time so I could get a good mark for the playoffs and
we'd still be out in the second round. I want to win Stanley Cups. It's a
waste to be paying me what I get paid to sit on the bench, and I don't want to
waste anyone's money."
Just trying to be a straight shooter
Now, let's be clear here. None of this would be news if Scotty Bowman were the
kind of coach you could approach with your issues. But when it comes to
communication, hockey is still a Little Red Schoolhouse where you don't
question the teacher -- especially when the teacher has eight championship
rings as a coach.
Nobody explained to Shanahan why he was demoted to the second power-play unit
-- which meant, instead of being one of four deadly options, alongside Steve
Yzerman, Nick Lidstrom and Sergei Fedorov, he was now clearly the "shooter" on
the second unit, and the defenses knew it.
And no one explained why Shanahan was broken off the potent line with Yzerman
and Pat Verbeek, thus interrupting his rhythm, which a streaky scorer like
Shanahan needs.
No one explained why Yzerman's and Fedorov's ice time increased as the Wings
searched for more offense, while Shanahan's decreased. The truth is Shanahan
had a better plus-minus in the playoffs than Yzerman or Lidstrom, he was tied
for third in playoff points, and he got off more shots than any other Red
Wing. But somehow he was in the doghouse.
If you were Shanahan, wouldn't you like a few answers?
He won't get them. Bowman does what he wants -- and to be honest, many of us
media types are so in awe of his reputation, we don't question him as much as
we should.
That's a mistake. But so is taking a player's rather common desire -- to get
as much time as he can -- and announcing it as an explosion or a controversy.
I'm glad Shanahan cares enough to be upset. He isn't saying give me the damn
ball, he's responding to accusations that this is somehow his fault.
It's not his fault, nor could he have fixed it by himself. He's a shooter who
was suddenly given less time to shoot and a less empowering cast to shoot
with. Why? That's a fair question, even for Scotty Bowman.
As for an answer?
I wouldn't hold my breath.
Contact MITCH ALBOM at 313-223-4581 or albom@freepress.com. Listen to Mitch's
radio show, "Albom in the Afternoon," 3-6 p.m. weekdays on WJR-AM (760).
THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION MAY DIFFER SLIGHTLY FROM THE PRINTED ARTICLE.
COLUMN;BRENDAN SHANAHAN;RED WINGS;END SEASON