9710090097
DETROIT FREE PRESS
971009
Thursday, October 09, 1997
METRO FINAL CHASER
1A
Photo KIRTHMON F. DOZIER Detroit Free Press
As the Stanley Cup banner ascends during pregame ceremonies at Joe
Louis Arena on Wednesday, Red Wings Brendan Shanahan, Nicklas Lindstrom and
Steve Yzerman cheer. The Wings went on to beat Dallas in their home opener.
MITCH ALBOM
Copyright (c) 1997, Detroit Free Press
TO THE ROOF
CHAMPS GET THEIR DUE, GO BACK TO WORK
The sticks played taps. Twenty-three sticks, lightly banging a wooden
applause, as the banner began to rise to the rafters. This is how hockey
players show respect and admiration. Tap the sticks. Curved wood against
frozen ice. Louder now. Tap-tap-tap-tap.
Down by the Zamboni end of the rink, three current Red Wings captains, dressed
in uniform, heard the taps as they stood beside the Stanley Cup, their eyes
lifted skyward. With them were two legends from the last time a championship
banner was raised for this franchise, when Dwight D. Eisenhower was president
and people had bomb shelters in their backyards.
Applause filled the air. Up rose the red-and-white flag -- "Detroit Red Wings,
1996-97 Stanley Cup Champions" -- past the lower level, past the first
balcony. The crowd was on its feet, its noise at fever pitch. Music played.
Swirling violins and royal trumpets. Lights flashed. Horns sounded. For a
moment, they all watched the ascent of their accomplishment, the players
tapping their sticks, the captains, the old-timers. Finally, Steve Yzerman
burst into a smile and gave an arm hug to white-haired Gordie Howe.
"Thanks for coming," Yzerman whispered.
Thanks for coming. That's what Wednesday was all about, this final candle on a
championship cake. It was a handshake at the bus station, a wave at the
airport, a last tug of affection before a long and emotional journey. A few
minutes after this ceremony ended, the ref dropped the puck and the new season
was officially under way in Detroit, and the Red Wings were 80 regular-season
games and 16 playoff victories away from a championship, just like every other
team in the NHL.
But for a moment, one more last-year candle flickered. The banner went higher,
hoisted on cables, heading for a space just below the seven banners from
earlier teams. This was fitting. It deserved a private space. What happened
last June was not just another title, it was the end of a curse, a hallelujah,
42 years of thirst ended with one satisfying gulp.
The cables stopped and the banner rested beneath the others. Nothing to the
right. Nothing to the left.
A row of its own.
Thanks for coming.
The missing numbers
"So many times, during breaks in a game last year, or at practice, I would
look up and see those old banners and say, 'Man, it'd be nice to put one up
there for ourselves,' " said Doug Brown, after this night was over and the
Wings had beaten Dallas, 3-1. "Now, whenever we stretch on the ice, I'll look
up and see our banner. It'll be something special."
And something unique. For as the Wings got their seasonal introductions, you
couldn't help but notice the numbers that were not called.
Nobody called No. 29, Mike Vernon, who at the end of last season was getting
the second-loudest applause, behind Yzerman. Vernon, the playoff MVP, is gone
now, he's in San Jose, a victim of money and age and contracts and all the
other things that ruin sports for the fans.
Nobody called No. 91, Sergei Fedorov, traditionally the highest number and
thus the last player usually introduced. Fedorov, the Wings' highest scorer in
the playoffs, is absent, without a contract, stuck in the limbo of
negotiations, another thing that ruins sports for fans.
And, of course, nobody called No. 16, Vladimir Konstantinov, the Wings' most
significant defenseman, who watched the ceremony from a hospital bed in Royal
Oak, still unable to speak or walk, still a long way from where he was that
Friday night in June, a few days after the Wings won, before that limousine
crashed into that tree on Woodward Avenue and the party really ended for this
franchise.
"Come back soon, we love you, we believe," said an emotional Mickey Redmond,
the emcee for the ceremony, sending a broadcast message out to Konstantinov
and his fellow victim, team masseur Sergei Mnatsakanov. The Wings all wore
patches saying "we believe" honoring their fallen comrades. Konstantinov's
wife, Irina, and Mnatsakanov's wife, Yelena, were on hand for the ceremony.
They stepped out onto the ice with the players when the banner went up.
It was a wonderful gesture and a painful reminder. And if you don't think
those two things can meld together, you haven't spent much time here this past
summer.
And yet, you must believe in time, and in healing. So here, on this same night
of nostalgic tears, was Slava Fetisov, the dear friend of those two men, a guy
who survived that night in the limo, taking a sweet feed from Igor Larionov
and poking a shot past the Dallas goaltender.
"We say that goal was for Vladdie," Larionov said. "He is very much missed.
And tonight was very strange skating without him."
Something gained, something lost.
One more time
During the banner-raising ceremony, Bruce Martyn, the longtime voice of the
Red Wings, was brought out for a few words.
"Of all the things I've seen over the years," he bellowed, "nothing matched
the sight of this team, in this building, holding that cup over their heads."
The crowd roared again. It was a perfect summation. This team. This building.
That cup. These players. Those banners. Those legends. There was such a
tremendous familiarity Wednesday night inside Joe Louis Arena that everyone
mentioned and everyone featured seemed like old friends. There were new
players, old players, new announcers, old announcers, new fans, old fans, a
feel-good sea of red and white. For years, they used to say there were 19,000
seats at Joe Louis Arena and 19,001 hockey fans in Detroit.
Today, the numbers have obviously swelled, but it still feels like the same
small group. Doesn't it?
That's what hockey can do in the right town. This is the right town, and this
is what it does: Pulls us all together, in celebration, in grief, in a
tap-along at home with 23 tapping sticks on the ice Wednesday night, tapping
for all that this team won, all that it lost, all that has been done, and all
that it is left to do.
Thanks for coming.
"When you saw that banner raised," someone asked Gordie Howe, "did you feel
that something was finally ended for you, because there's now a newer
championship team than yours?"
"Nah," Howe said, laughing. "They still have three to go to catch us."
Well, then. Let's get started, shall we?
Mitch Albom will sign his new book, "Tuesdays With Morrie," 7-8 tonight at
Barnes and Noble, Telegraph and Maple, Bloomfield Hills. To leave a message
for Albom, call 1-313-223-4581.
THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION MAY DIFFER SLIGHTLY FROM THE PRINTED ARTICLE.
RED WINGS; HOCKEY