<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?>
<BODY.CONTENT>
<UID>
9201160244
</UID>
<PUBLICATION>
DETROIT FREE PRESS
</PUBLICATION>
<DATE>
920427
</DATE>
<TDATE>
Monday, April 27, 1992
</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) 1992, Detroit Free Press
</COPYRIGHT>
<HEADLINE>
WINGS SAVED BY A WHISKER AS STARS TAKE IT ON THE CHIN
</HEADLINE>
<SUBHEAD>

</SUBHEAD>
<CORRECTION>

</CORRECTION>
<BODY>
Not long before the game that could have ended the Red Wings' season, Paul
Ysebaert sat by his locker and rubbed his thickening whiskers. He made a face.

  "That's it," he said.  "I'm shaving  this off."

  He had been growing the beard since before the playoffs began. Athletes do
this kind of thing, sometimes for fun, sometimes for superstition, sometimes
to symbolize full concentration.  Shave? I'm too busy to shave! We're in the
playoffs!
  In this case, the whiskers weren't helping. The Wings had lost three of the
first four playoff games to the supposedly weaker North Stars. One  more
defeat and Detroit would be history, sent home early, miles from the promised
land.
  "Yeah, that's it," Ysebaert repeated. "I'm gonna shave right now. We need a
change."
  I left the room  as Ysebaert headed for the sink. But midway through
Sunday night's game, I saw the whiskers were still there. He hadn't shaved,
after all. He hadn't changed.
  Which is a good philosophy. If it ain't  broke, don't fix it. The Wings
might have been losing this series, but they weren't blowing it. They were
playing hard playoff hockey, they were dominating the shots, they were
dominating the hits. They were doing everything except delivering the knockout
punches and eliminating the lucky bounces, weird ricochets and drop- dead
goaltending that Minnesota was getting. 
  In such cases, you must believe  in yourselves -- and you must believe in
timing. You must believe that, sooner or later, things even out.
  "To be honest," Steve Yzerman would say after Sunday night's game, "I don't
know what we  could have done differently. The only thing we weren't doing was
winning."
  Which they took care of rather neatly Sunday night, with a much-awaited 3-0
shutout at Joe Louis Arena. It doesn't make things perfect. The Wings are
still perched on the edge of disaster, trailing 3-2 and heading back to
Minnesota.
  But it sure beats the alternative. . . . 
  This is how desperate things had become.  Midway through the game, Shawn
Burr took a stick in the face that left him grabbing his cheek. Desperate for
a five-minute power play, some Red Wings fans yelled, "BLEED! BLEED! BLEED!"
  Geez. Nothing  like taking one for the team.
  Anyhow, bleeding wasn't necessary. Switching goaltenders wasn't necessary.
Shaking up the entire lineup wasn't necessary.
  "I thought we played the way we had been  playing," coach Bryan Murray
said afterward. "Only this time we won."
  Of course, when I say don't change, I don't mean don't make adjustments.
Take the insertion of Mike Sillinger and Martin Lapointe  into the Red Wings'
lineup Sunday night. Murray did this in an effort to put some youthful spark
on the ice. After all, Sillinger and Lapointe are what, 9  years old?
  Just kidding. Lapointe is all  of 18,  and Sillinger an old man of 20.  And
there they were in the third period, combining on a pretty pass and goal that
gave the Wings a 2-0 lead and the breathing room they needed. Lapointe and
Sillinger?  The crowd went nuts.
  "Are you going to use those kids again on Tuesday night?" someone asked
Murray in the press conference after the game.
  "Oh, no," he deadpanned, mocking his coaching brilliance, "they played much
too well tonight. I'm not using them again. I'll save them until next year."
  Here was another adjustment: Tim Cheveldae. Not his goaltending. He played
pretty much the way he always  has -- even in the games he lost during this
series. No. I am referring to his wardrobe. Sunday, he arrived in a yellow
sports jacket that vaguely resembled a Florida grapefruit. He has worn that
jacket  just twice before in his career, and both times, he said, "I got
abused by my teammates terribly."
  "So," someone asked, "why wear it tonight?"
  "Hey," he answered. "We were down 3-1. I was ready  to try anything."
  He pulled on the lapels.
  "And you can bet I'm taking this thing to Minnesota now."
  But OK. Outside of a funny jacket and a couple of peppy kids, the Red
Wings basically  won the way they have been winning all year. With good
goaltending and good passing and with Yzerman and Sergei Fedorov, who combined
for the first goal of the evening. 
  Oh, there were still plenty  of missed opportunities. That, apparently, is
going to be the theme of this series for Detroit. If you had a dollar for
every shot that skipped past the net or ricocheted off the post or died on the
 goal line under a stick, well, you'd be able to afford another set of playoff
tickets.
  But when it all came down to it, the Wings simply were not ready to fold
the tent on this 98-point season. Going  home for the summer while the
calendar still reads April was not what these guys had in mind, not after
winning their division.
  "You know it never even occurred to me that we could be playing our  last
game of the season tonight," Yzerman said. "Once I got here, I began to think
about it. Then we were all sitting around in the locker room and the radio was
on, and the weather report said 38 degrees  and snow flurries for tomorrow.
And I said, 'Hold on here, guys. It's still winter. It's not time to stop
playing yet.' "
  And so they shall. Tuesday night will be another test of their character,
and so will Thursday, if they get that far. They'll most likely do so by not
panicking, by not feeling undue pressure, believing in the facts that say they
have the better team. You want a playoff philosophy?  Here's a playoff
philosophy: There's no reason to make big changes. No reason to do anything
but win.
  I ran into Ysebaert in the locker room afterward. He was running toward the
shower. 
  "Hey,"  I said. "You didn't shave,  after all. Were you making a
statement?"
  "Nah," he said, "I just forgot."
  So much for philosophy.
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<DISCLAIMER>

</DISCLAIMER>
<KEYWORDS>
DREDWINGS; COLUMN; PLAYOFF;Red Wings
</KEYWORDS>
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