9601170607 DETROIT FREE PRESS 960530 Thursday, May 30, 1996 METRO FINAL CHASER

NWS

1A Photo Color MARY SCHROEDER/Detroit Free Press Photo MARY SCHROEDER/Detroit Free Press : Detroit goalie Chris Osgood hangs his head in the second period Wednesday night after giving up Denver's third goal of the game. The Avalanche added another one for a 4-1 series- clinching victory, slamming the door on the Red Wings' Stanley Cup hopes. Detroit's Kris Draper is helped off the ice by trainer John Wharton, left, and Keith Primeau after Draper was blindsided and bloodied by Denver's Claude Lemieux in teh first period Wednesday night. MITCH ALBOM SEE ALSO METRO FINAL EDITION, Page 1A Copyright (c) 1996, Detroit Free Press BROKEN WINGS AVALANCHE WINS, 4-1, TO END DREAM SEASON DENVER -- The dream crashed in the mountains, a mile above sea level, where the air is thin and it's difficult to breathe. And as the nasty reality sank in -- one goal behind, two goals behind, three goals behind -- you could feel the Red Wings suffocating, all the good things they had done this season tumbling to earth like a boulder during an avalanche. Or should we say, Avalanche? See ya next dream. This one is dead, gone, a carcass to be picked apart by the second-guessers. And when all the talk is done, you will still know nothing more than this: The Wings saved their worst for last, played their most inconsistent hockey of the season during the playoffs, and continued a mystifying tradition of running out of gas when the prize is within reach. The saddest and most symbolic moment Wednesday night came when young Kris Draper, who had embodied much of the fresh-faced hope of this team, was blindsided into the wall by Colorado's master villain, Claude Lemieux. The hit broke Draper's cheekbone, his jaw and his nose. When he finally got up -- to a chorus of Colorado boos -- his face was buried in a towel, so he could not see; several teeth had been knocked out, so he could not talk; and he left the ice, so he could not play. The maintenance crew ran out and shoveled up his bloody ice, tossing it in a wastebasket, along with what was left of the Detroit season. See ya next dream. "It's like getting your heart torn out," said a dejected Darren McCarty, after the 4-1 loss to Colorado halted Detroit's history-making season in Game 6 of the best-of-seven Western Conference finals -- one round and one Stanley Cup short of their goal. "This hurts everyone in the Red Wings family. But we have to live with it, because we're responsible." Where's the justice, Wings fans ask? The longest drought in the National Hockey League loses to the newest town in the league? And instead of the pictures Detroit fans hoped to frame this year, we get snapshots of disaster, unimaginable just a few weeks ago: Instead of Chris Osgood plucking a save, we get cocky Patrick Roy scooping the Wings' shots Wednesday night and raising them over his head like a matador's cape. Instead of No. 19 of the Red Wings, Steve Yzerman, shaking a conference trophy over his head, we get No. 19 of the Avalanche, Joe Sakic, having his coming-out party in these playoffs, scoring twice, assisting on another, doing the victory dance himself. Instead of Scotty Bowman returning to his throne, winningest coach in hockey, we get Marc Crawford, a cast of "Friends" look-alike, in the Stanley Cup finals. Instead of an octopus, we get a snowball in the face. In fact, the only thing familiar here is defeat. Forty-one years without a Cup. As the final seconds ticked off, you could almost see the ghosts draping the shoulders of the Wings, driving their skates deep into the ice, slowing them to a halt and, finally, a surrender. This battle was lost early "I'm sick and tired of losing," said captain Steve Yzerman, standing in the hallway of the McNichols Arena basement, where the echo of Avalanche players celebrating could be heard all too clearly. Yzerman's nose was bleeding on its bridge, beneath a row of stitches. He didn't bother to wipe it dry. "I'm tired of answering the same question after every season. I really thought we could turn it up in the playoffs, but we never did. Last year, it was hard when we lost in the finals, but that was a breakthrough season. This year, the only way to go forward was to win the Cup. So we went backward." For what it's worth -- and Yzerman knows this -- if defeat had to come this season, it might as well come to Colorado. The Avalanche had the second-best record in hockey. Of course, the Wings were first by a mile. But what does that matter? If you knew nothing before these playoffs, you now know this: The regular season in the NHL is to the postseason like kindergarten is to graduate school. Said Yzerman: "It's almost not worth bothering with the regular season. Just take it off and show up in April." The proof was right here in the conference finals: In six playoff tries against the Avalanche, the Wings won only two games. In the regular season, they won three of four meetings. You want an explanation? Here's an explanation. Colorado won because its goalie was great, while Detroit's goalie was only good. Colorado won because its No. 19 played like a superstar, while Detroit's No. 19 could not. Colorado won because good players like Adam Deadmarsh and Mike Ricci took advantage of chances and scored goals, while Sergei Fedorov didn't score enough and often played as if his paycheck didn't depend on this series -- which, sadly, it didn't. Colorado won because its players stayed healthy, while the Wings opened a M*A*S*H unit. Colorado won because it played defense like a bull in a china shop, while the Wings played back-up-back-up-back-up- poke. Colorado won because Detroit could not stay out of the penalty box, even on a night when the Wings did most of the bleeding. . . . You want more? Or is that enough suffering? Although the final images will be of Sakic -- cutting like an Etch-a-Sketch line, leaving Paul Coffey helplessly lost, whacking that greased-lightning wrist shot past Osgood -- still, when all is said and done, this series probably turned in the very first game, on a rather desperate shot by Mike Keane in overtime. The Wings had played well enough to win, and had they done so, the Colorado players, who stood in awe of Detroit coming in, might never have gotten as confident as they did. Instead, with one win in their pockets and nothing to lose, the Avalanche hung it all out in Game 2 and won that handily. And with a two-game lead, the Avalanche became a different team. It became cocky. Their players seemed to say to themselves, "Hey, these Wings are tight. They could sink themselves." So they followed the playoff textbook, went with muscle over finesse, and in the end, the Wings did indeed do themselves in. Who has to answer for this? Certainly Scotty Bowman, who seems to devise wonderful finesse teams that can't tough it out to the finish line. Certainly Fedorov, who should study guys like Sakic and realize that Cups mean more than trophies. Certainly Keith Primeau, who was in a terrible slump, and Slava Fetisov, who often specialized in turnovers, and Paul Coffey and Nicklas Lidstrom, who are wonderful offensive threats, but often seem to be defensive liabilities in the playoffs. Hey. You want to throw blame around? There's plenty to be had. What's the point? The Wings couldn't sleep last night because of the nightmares. The Avalanche couldn't sleep because of the excitement. "Can you describe your emotions now?" McCarty was asked. Sweat soaked his shirt and dripped from his brow. "Emptiness," he said. See ya next dream. Now what do they do? You want to know the real victims of this early exit? Next season's Wings. Who will believe in them now, no matter what they do? The script is gone. This show has closed. The Detroit hockey franchise could hardly play a better regular season -- 62 victories were the most in NHL history -- yet the postseason was root canal. Struggle against Winnipeg (blamed on a hot goaltender), struggle against St. Louis (blamed on a hot goaltender and tight defense), and collapse against Colorado (blamed on a hot goaltender, a tough defense and a good offense). No more blame. Whom did the Wings expect to face -- the Bad News Bears? The fact is, Detroit won 10 games in the postseason and lost nine, barely over .500. The fact is, other teams lifted to a new level, and the Wings stayed put or, thanks to injuries and slumps, actually got worse. The fact is, they are wonderful guys, with terrific team chemistry, but something is just not working. So now what? Do you break up this team? To a degree, you must. Not because they aren't good players -- heck, they're great players. But together, they have too many bad memories. They are like the Utah Jazz in basketball or the Buffalo Bills in football, they hear the same whispers, they are haunted by the same ghosts, and it might not be possible to get beyond the demons with this same group. The Wings need to import some new -- and bigger -- bodies, not so much for what they bring to the table as for what they don't. No memories. No history. No curses. So be it. Enough. Everyone is tired, players and fans. Tired of analyzing where the Wings' offense went. Tired of watching them get mauled and being told "this is the way it is in the postseason." Tired of waking up feeling depressed. Here's a thought. Next time -- and there will be a next time -- let's try to expect nothing and enjoy what we get. The biggest shame of this season might not be the sad finish, but the lack of enjoyment throughout the year. The Wings put together a Hall of Fame season, yet what was their reaction? "We haven't done anything." And when they made it past Winnipeg? "We haven't done anything." And when they edged out St. Louis? "We still haven't done anything." Hey. There are towns where they'd be happy to be playing this time of year. Instead, the Wings' season was an often joyless affair, filled with anxiety, hand-wringing, and over-analysis. That's not what sports are supposed to be about. If we want to get an ulcer, we can go to the office. So next time, a happier approach. Remember that the playoffs are weird, they're about bounces and goalies and which players stay healthy. If Detroit makes it, great. If it doesn't, hey, neither do a lot of teams. That has to be a better approach than the sick feelings this town has this morning, and the sad looks of the Red Wings as they skated in that slow line at the end of the night, congratulating yet another team in taking what they truly believed was theirs alone. They began a mile high Wednesday night, and this morning they seem to have fallen every inch of it. Summer's here. Ice has melted. See ya next dream. It sure seems a long way off, doesn't it? THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION MAY DIFFER SLIGHTLY FROM THE PRINTED ARTICLE. RED WINGS; GAME; END; HOCKEY