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<UID>
9301030659
</UID>
<PUBLICATION>
DETROIT FREE PRESS
</PUBLICATION>
<DATE>
930122
</DATE>
<TDATE>
Friday, January 22, 1993
</TDATE>
<EDITION>
METRO FINAL CHASER
</EDITION>
<SECTION>
SPT
</SECTION>
<PAGE>
1C
</PAGE>
<ILLUSTRATION>

</ILLUSTRATION>
<CAPTION>

</CAPTION>
<BYLINE>
MITCH ALBOM
</BYLINE>
<AFFILIATION>

</AFFILIATION>
<MEMO>

</MEMO>
<COPYRIGHT>
Copyright (c) 1993, Detroit Free Press
</COPYRIGHT>
<HEADLINE>
CARSON THRIVING AS CENTER OF INATTENTION
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</SUBHEAD>
<CORRECTION>

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<BODY>
Jimmy Carson grabbed the water bottle, took a swig, and spat. He had just
punched in the tying goal on a power play. Minutes earlier, he'd made an
assist on the Wings' first goal against St. Louis  since November, a pretty
pass to Ray Sheppard that turned to money. Now they called Carson's name on
the loudspeaker: "RED WINGS GOAL, HIS 24TH OF THE SEASON . . . " A teammate
slapped his helmet from  behind. Nice going. Carson almost smiled. Decent
night, for a third-stringer.

  You can lose Jimmy Carson on this team. That is a blessing and a curse, but
it is not the way the kid expected it. He came back to this town four years
ago with more fanfare than a royal wedding. The headlines were dripping with
sentiment. "JIMMY COMES MARCHING HOME" and "RETURN OF THE LOCAL HERO." Carson
was not from  Medicine Hat, or Moose Jaw, or Cows Toes, or any other Canadian
dot on the map. He was from right around the corner, Grosse Pointe, local kid.
And he was joining the team of his dreams, bringing with  him a reputation as
a scorer. Only two teenagers have ever had 50 goals in an NHL season. One is
Wayne Gretzky. The other is Jimmy Carson.

  But from that opening press conference, when he pulled on the red and white
sweater and blinked in the light of 100 flashbulbs, things have rarely gone
the way Carson expected. The Wings were already blessed with one All-Star
center, Steve Yzerman, and they  got another the next season in a rookie flash
from across  the ocean, Sergei Fedorov. 
  Next thing Carson knows, he's third-string. And now there are nights when
he gets 11 minutes of ice time, and  nights when he gets even less.
Stats sing his praises 
  And yet, the facts about Carson do not lie. When he plays, he scores. When
the power play arises, he scores then, too -- more than any other  Red Wing
this season. In gambler's terms, Carson is a guy who cashes in his chips. His
point total (48) is third on the team, his goal total (24) is second only to
Yzerman, and comparing their ice time  is like comparing summer in Michigan to
winter in Michigan.
  "Sure, I think about that," Carson said after the Wings beat St. Louis,
5-3, Thursday night. "But I've learned to accept less ice time.  That's the
way it is when you have three good centermen."
  "Do you ever feel unappreciated?" he is asked.
  He almost grins, then catches himself. Finally, he says, "By who?"
  This is a typical  Carson response. He is smart and he is vocal, and he is
not afraid of his own opinions, and because of this, he doesn't always rub
people the right way. He is, for example, an outspoken Republican, he  likes
politics -- that gets you funny looks in sports -- and when he's not espousing
the virtues of Rush Limbaugh, he may be confronting the coach, Bryan Murray,
speaking up when he feels his ice time  is too limited. A lot of hockey
players won't do that. Carson will.
  "Sometimes I think about being somewhere else," he admits. "A place where
statistically, it might be better for me. But I like  it here, and I hope to
win a Stanley Cup with this team. And if you want to do that, you have to
accept certain things."
  As difficult, on some nights, as that may be.
He has no regrets 
  Carson  was not chosen as a star of the game Thursday night. He did not
come out for a curtain call, even though his assist got the Wings off their
slow start, and his goal got them back to even against the  Blues. This is not
unusual. They don't yell Carson's name at Joe Louis Arena. They yell,
"Probie! Probie!" when they want Bob Probert to kick the snot out of someone,
and they yell, "Chevy!" and "Sergei!"  and "Stevie!" They roar for fights and
they boo when things get slow, and in general they act like a bored wrestling
crowd. And maybe, in some ways, that's what regular-season hockey is.
  But you  still win games by scoring goals, and Carson does that. Even
Murray, who has his hands full juggling this kid, has to admit that.
  "Jimmy is a great offensive force, you can't deny that. We chuckle
sometimes because the pucks come up high on his stick and then, next thing you
know, it's going in the net," Murray says.
  What more do you need to know? You have a quarterback who throws
end-over-end?  If it gets to the receiver, what do you care? A basketball
player who shoots underhand? If it swishes, who cares?
  Carson is 24, and this is probably his best offensive season, if you take
points  and divide them by minutes. What is his reward for this? Every time
there is trade talk, his name is the first mentioned.
  "I'm not the kind of guy who looks back," he says. "I don't have regrets
over anything. A lot of players go through what I'm going through. What can I
do?"
  Carson shrugs and rubs ointment on his elbow. The local hero heads back to
his locker.
  We want our athletes  to be many things, role models, quote machines, good
Samaritans. But at the end of the night, all you can really ask is that a
player does what he's paid to do. 
  Jimmy Carson, paid to score goals,  is doing that, as well as any guy in
town. Whether anyone notices is another story.
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