9401160184
DETROIT FREE PRESS
940430
Saturday, April 30, 1994
METRO FINAL
1B
MITCH ALBOM
Copyright (c) 1994, Detroit Free Press
SCARS FROM THE PAST WOULD HEAL WITH CUP
Steve Yzerman looks like hell. Or as much as a heartthrob can look like
hell. The left side of his face has a red mark from forehead to chin -- "a
glove cut," he says -- and his pouty upper lip still has the vertical scar
from 30 stitches, turning it purple and slightly swollen. His knees are both
in the danger zone, one from an old injury and one from the newest injury,
suffered two weeks ago -- the one the Wings are so hush-hush about, but
which, I can tell you, is the medial ligament of what used to be his "good"
knee -- and, given its severity, most people wouldn't even think jogging, let
alone ice hockey.
Yzerman is not most people. He has spare tanks of courage and a shrinking
supply of patience. He been playing this game professionally for 10 years, has
been one of its superstars, certainly as much as a Charles Barkley or Patrick
Ewing has been an NBA superstar, and yet, every spring, here he is, in a fight
for his playoff life -- just to get out of the first round.
"I was thinking the other day about 1987, when we went to the semifinals
against Edmonton," Yzerman says, sitting in a sweatshirt and a baseball cap
after Friday's practice. "I look around this room and there are so few guys
left. There's Shawn Burr, Probie (Bob Probert), Steve Chiasson and me.
"But the thing I remember most is that we were playing one night, and we
were the only game you could watch on TV. America or Canada. Only four teams
were left in the playoffs, and that night was our game. All of hockey was
watching us.
"That was such a great feeling."
He looks down, perhaps realizing that the highlight of his career was a
semifinal that ended in defeat. And any sports fan has to feel for the guy.
Unknown character
Steve Yzerman doesn't need my sympathy, yours either, but talk to him for
a while and you find yourself wanting to help, the way you help a bright kid
who needs a college scholarship, or an innocent motorist broken down on the
highway.
Yzerman, too, seems stranded on the highway. For much of his career, he
was lumped with Wayne Gretzky and Mario Lemieux as the league's top three
players. But Gretzky and Lemieux have tasted champagne from the Stanley Cup,
more than once, and now Gretzky is about finished, and Lemieux is talking
retirement. Meanwhile, Yzerman, who turns 29 next month, says, "They can
retire, because they've already accomplished what they want. I'm still chasing
my dream."
Then, as if self-conscious about that last sentence, he adds, "Besides,
I've got nothing else to do."
That's a lie. He has plenty else to do. For one thing, Steve Yzerman is
now a father. He became one about nine weeks ago. He and his wife, Lisa, have
discovered all the joys of parenthood, the crying, the middle-of-the-night
feedings, but also the extra pair of eyes that now await them. Yzerman admits
he thinks "about going home all the time now, just to see my daughter." It's
the kind of statement you expect from the man.
And not the kind he wants printed. I'm sure Yzerman would prefer a column
about his still-sharp hockey skills, or better yet, something about the team.
Talk hockey, he'll say.
But the simple fact is, a lot of people can skate and shoot. What Yzerman
has done -- play at All-Star caliber, season after season, drag himself
through countless injuries, lead the team through quiet example, never bitch
about money, never hear a teammate knock him, throw himself into every night
of icy warfare and still have to stand there, after the last game of the year,
explaining in that muted voice what went wrong, why they lost -- well, it
shows something more than skill. It shows character.
Detroit knows this.
The shame is, most of the nation does not.
Will his time ever come?
In 1983, when Yzerman first joined the Red Wings, "the older guys were
Ron Duguay, Brad Park, Johnny Ogrodnick, they were 27, 28, they had families,
I remember being really intimidated.
"Now I'm that age. I have a family. I'm like the old man. But the funny
thing is, I don't feel any different."
Here's my theory: Your dreams keep you young. Yzerman's dreams remain
unfulfilled, hockey-wise, so he keeps pushing back the end of his rainbow.
And he keeps fighting to get there. You knew the guy would drag himself
back from this most-recent injury, the way he's dragged himself back so many
times before. And he'll be out there tonight, with the "C" on his sweater,
trying yet again to push Detroit hockey into May.
Still, all these early exits during his prime years have torn away at his
insides. Last summer, after the first-round loss to Toronto and the return of
the nagging trade rumors, something snapped.
"I just decided the hell with all this worrying that I'll never get my
chance. I can't do it anymore. It's so tiring.
"I decided I'll try to be a good player, a good person, and good things
should happen. I tell myself I have lots of hockey left. That's how I live
with it."
As a sportswriter, you don't root. Rules of the job. Still, there is one
scene I would like to see before I'm done. That scene is Steve Yzerman, after
the last game of the season, his mouth open wide in euphoria, instead of
explanation as to what went wrong.
It's every hockey player's dream, I know, and few get to see it. But when
you try it out on Yzerman, after all those years and all these scars, it
doesn't seem that much to ask. It really doesn't.