8802140327
DETROIT FREE PRESS
881011
Tuesday, October 11, 1988
METRO FINAL
1D
MITCH ALBOM
Copyright (c) 1988, Detroit Free Press
KLIMA'S PARTY NOW A WINGS' NIGHTMARE
Once upon a time he hid in the back of a dark Mercedes as it raced
through the German countryside. He was a scared kid defecting from his
homeland.
On Sunday morning, he hid in the front of his four-wheel- drive truck
after it smashed into a car on Woodward Avenue. He was a drunken adult, hoping
the cop wouldn't see he'd been driving.
I don't know what Petr Klima dreamt of when he came to America three
years ago. I doubt it was prison. Or a rehab center. Or life with no paycheck.
He is facing all three now.
What are the Red Wings supposed to do with this guy? Tagged as a hockey
superstar from the moment he put his feet on our soil, Klima has been living
the high life as if it were his destiny. He got the car. He got the house. He
got the fans. He got the girls.
And he got the trouble. Drunken driving, twice. Violating curfew. Missing
practice. He has been fined, suspended, arrested. And up to now, always
forgiven. In fact, the Wings were about to reinstate him before he backed his
vehicle into a woman's car early Sunday morning (after leaving a bar), then
drove away hoping not to be caught. When a police officer stopped him, Klima,
legally drunk, tried to switch seats with one of the two women in his vehicle
and pretend she had been driving instead of him.
Courage was never high on his list.
But it needs to be high on the Red Wings'. Especially now. Like a rock
through their bedroom window, Klima has smashed again, tied to a note that
says in big red letters: DO SOMETHING. To ignore it would be nothing short of
criminal.
He goes. Plain and simple.
Time for Wings to take a stand
He goes. If the doctors who are "examining" Klima find, as most people
suspect, that he is not an alcoholic, that he is addicted more to the party
than the punch, then the Wings should cut the strings. Easy for me to say.
He's not my investment. But he is my concern. As he is anyone's who follows
the Red Wings. A team, after all, is not just how many goals it scores; a
team is what it stands for.
"I couldn't believe it when I heard," Jacques Demers told me when I called
him Monday. "I was shocked. For Petr to do that while his team was playing a
game in Vancouver. I mean, the game was on the radio. You think he'd be home
listening. . . ."
Maybe once. But we have heard these words before. The night before the
fifth game of the NHL semifinals last spring, when Klima accompanied Bob
Probert on a late-night drinking spree. "For Petr to do that . . . "
When he missed the plane after being sent to Adirondack. "For Petr to do
that . . . "
Enough. Petr did it. And the Red Wings deserve better than to be sprayed
with his poison everywhere they go. There are some good guys on this team,
genuine sports heroes, and I don't read a word about them anymore.
The fact is, Klima has been a pain in the butt for nearly two years. Even
during his successful days, when he was skating fast and scoring often, he
was selfish and self-absorbed. Demers would force a grin and say, "Petr's
really coming along." But he knew the tinderbox he was dealing with.
So did the Wings' higher-ups. They -- general manager Jimmy Devellano,
executive vice-president Jim Lites and owner Mike Ilitch -- have refused to
trade the star forward cheaply (or release him outright) because other teams
would snatch him. What's the alternative? Sink your current team to keep him?
Devellano said Monday: "I can't comment." But it's his call, not Demers'.
And he should make it. Never mind if another team rushes to pick
Detroit's garbage. Klima will at least learned there are lines you cannot
cross. And the Wings will take a stand against drunken driving and big egos.
Isn't it time for something like that?
Tough lessons for Klima to learn
Now. Critics might say "Wait a minute." Wasn't it the Wings -- our
team, our city -- who fished Klima out of Czechoslovakia to play here? Didn't
we turn his head with money and screaming fans? Had we never signed him,
would he be ruining some Czech team now, missing planes and partying nights?
I don't know. The word is Klima was a rebel even behind the iron curtain.
On the night he defected, the last detail he went over before stepping into
the car was his contract: He wanted more money. He got it. The toll gate to
freedom was dripping with cash.
So maybe it is no surprise that he turned out this way. I have been to
the bar where Klima was drinking Saturday night (and has been drinking many
times before). I have seen what it is like for local sports stars. They are
surrounded by attractive women and back-slapping men. "Whatever you do," they
seem to coo, "You're OK. You're a star."
It takes a strong personality to resist that. You would figure Klima, who
gave up family, friends and birthright to come here, would have that
strength.
But maybe not. Andy Warhol once predicted every American will be famous
for 15 minutes. Most immigrants, however, know nothing of fame. The good life
here is something they must earn, slowly, patiently, and almost always from
the bottom up. Maybe it is time for Klima to learn those same lessons. From
the top down.
He goes. For his own good. It was November, 1985 that an NHL goalie
named Pelle Lindbergh slammed his Porsche into a wall and killed himself. He
had been drinking. Enjoying his fame.
You were new to America then, Petr. Unable to read the newspapers. But
you can read them now. So read this: Heroes fade. Parties end. Your dream has
turned into everybody's nightmare.
And your 15 minutes are up.
COLUMN;CRITICISM; PETR KLIMA