Greener’s Top 5 Live Hockey Games Part III

Rimouski Oceanic at Gatineau Olympiques: Friday February 6, 2004

Almost every generation has its hockey heroes.  Players that are bigger than life on the ice with a list of accomplishments longer than your arm.  But every now and then, the hockey gods allow a special player to come along to show the world just how mortal all others are compared to them.

If you were around Ontario in the 1960′s you would have heard of some guy named Robert Orr up in Parry Sound that was about to turn the hockey world upside down.  In the 1970′s the same was being said about a skinny kid with the strange moniker of Gretzky from Brantford.  Then the early 1980′s brought word of a giant named Mario from Quebec that everyone was claiming was the best French player since Jean Beliveau.  At the turn of this century, the buzz was back in hockey circles and this time the player was a kid from Canada’s east coast. 

I am a Sidney Crosby fan.  I know what the detractors say and that is fine.  Everyone is allowed to have an opinion, and to be honest, much of the same stuff people throw at Sid was said about the three men I previously mentioned during their playing days as well.  Revisionists will tell you that they all loved the Great One when he was playing or that Mario was always their favorite player.  But the truth is most people hated Gretzky when he played.  They labeled him a “whiner” and claimed he was too small to play the game at the pro level.  Mario was called ”selfish” and they used to say that Bobby should just play defense the way it was meant to be played.  Strange thing about humanity, if one person excels there are multitudes ready to bring them down. 

That being said, this is not about comparing Crosby to the other greats.  Despite his achievements, he is still only at the beginning of his career and the rest of us will not be able to judge where he stands with the others that came before him until the day he hangs up his skates.  What this is about is the night I stopped being a doubter and became a believer.  This is about the game that made me a fan of Sidney Crosby.   

In the winter of 2003-2004 a rookie was tearing up the Quebec Major Junior Hockey League.  The entire nation of Canada was waking up to the fact that there was a phenom in our midst.  There was a media blitz surrounding the young kid from Nova Scotia that had never been chronicled in the history of the nation.  But there were skeptics amongst hockey fans that had seen the over-hype of a teenage player before.  I was one of them.  I clearly remembered the early 90′s and the guys labeled as the “Next Ones”; Eric Lindros and Alexandre Daigle.  Lindros did have a pretty good career and if not for the multitude of injuries, he could have been considered for the Hall of Fame one day.  But Daigle was a bust and the perfect example of style over substance.  He was the ‘can’t miss’ kid who became the ‘can’t play’ adult.  As far as I knew, Crosby was another Daigle in a hockey player’s uniform until proven otherwise.

That winter I was toiling away in a car dealership in Ottawa.  In early January, a co-worker mentioned that he grew up with one of the owners of the Gatineau Olympiques and his old friend was getting him tickets for the Rimouski game in February. My co-worker asked if I was interested to see Crosby play and when I enthusiastically responded that I would love to go to the game, he managed to get two tickets for me as well.  This was no small feat as this was the hottest ticket in town that year.  Crosby was only going to be playing once in the city all season, and somehow through fate, I had acquired tickets to the game.  Sometimes, the gods smile on me.

Gatineau, Quebec lies across the river from Ottawa and is admired for the natural beauty of its parks, modern architecture, museums and the high density of Gentleman’s Clubs.  It is also the location of the Robert Guertin Arena, home of the Olympiques.  This building was built in 1957 and like many other post-World War II arenas and forums erected across Canada during that era, it has a special aura around it.  Walking through the doors is like taking a step back in time to a period in our history when the game of hockey was beginning to define a country.  The concrete steps are rounded and worn from the thousands of feet that have shuffled over them.   The absorbed sounds of cheers, whistles and screams from the countless games played long ago are whispered back to you from the posters, pictures and paraphernalia that adorn the walls. Like many of the old barns that dot our landscape, it is a hallowed place for those looking for the cultural facet and social fabric of hockey. 

The 2003-2004 season was shaping up to be one of Gatineau’s best.  The team had won the league championship the past season, had made it to the final of the Memorial Cup, the pinnacle of junior hockey excellence in Canada, and had designs of getting back there again.  That night, a capacity crowd of 4906 were packed to the rafters to watch their hometown heroes take on the upstart Sidney Crosby and the Rimouski Oceanic.  Da’missus and I were seated with friends behind the visitors net and before the puck even dropped it was clear that the Crosby fans in attendance were few and far between.  Once the play started the catcalls from the stands were ferocious.  When Crosby touched the puck, hundreds of rabid Gatineau fans would begin shouting insults.  Cries of, “Hey Crosby!  Tu joue-tu tous seul?   Ma soeur lance plus forts que toi!” was roared by leather-lunged men, women, and children alike determined to be heard as they banged on the glass when he skated past.

It was hard to focus on the play on the ice as the crowd had an energy that reminded me of a pack of hungry dogs on a fox hunt.  They not only wanted the Olympiques to win, but they wanted Crosby’s blood as well.  He was checked by the opposition every chance they had.  Men of 20 years of age would hammer him to the ice and the 16 year old kid would get up every time.  One hit had me cringing in my seat from the sound of the impact alone, but Crosby was back in the play seconds after receiving what I thought was a hit to knock him out of the game.  I was beginning to admire the kid’s determination and unwillingness to be intimidated.

Gatineau would score the first two goals and the crowd was in a frenzy.  Their team was beating the whiz-kid and they loved it.  By the middle of the period though, it was becoming clear that one player that they all wanted to hate was a force to be reckoned with.  Crosby out-deked, out-passed, out-skated, out-witted, and out-hustled every player on the ice.  The two teams combined collectively never had the talent that the scrappy boy from Cole Harbour had.  Crosby would assist on Rimouski’s first goal and scored the second to tie the game.  When the horn sounded to end the first period, the insults from the stands were becoming few and far between.

Starting in the second period, the momentum was continuously switching sides between the effort of the entire Olympiques and the will of Crosby.  Gatineau would score a go ahead goal and seconds later the raucous crowd would be quieted by a spectacular rush by Crosby as he set up a teammate to tie the game.  At one point I witnessed one of the best hockey plays I have ever seen in my life.  Due to the switch of ends for the second period we were now sitting behind the Olympiques goalie.  Crosby gained the zone and went around a winger and a defenseman to take up position at the back of the net.  The opposing players did not chase him as he was making them look foolish all night, so they took up positions in front of the net to hold up any other Oceanic players and to block any pass Crosby may put out to them. 

An Oceanic winger was checked heavily to the ice and was tied up with an Olympiques defender.  Despite the impact and tangled bodies, the Oceanic player managed to hold on to his stick with one hand as he slid towards the goal.  Seeing an opportunity, Crosby darted out from behind the net, saucered a pass over a prone defenseman, and hit the blade of the sliding Oceanic players stick, deflecting the puck over the shoulder of the goalie for a goal.  It was a split-second play that only an elite few would even have the vision and decision making needed to think of, let alone pull it off.  A collective gasp overcame the entire crowd and a vacuum was nearly created in the arena as everyone took a massive intake of breath at the same time.  It became obvious that we were watching something special unfold right in front of our eyes.  As the Oceanic players were congratulating each other on the ice after the goal, the catcalls stopped and were replaced by applause.  All anyone could talk about during the intermission was that they could not believe what they were seeing from the Kid.  This time, the hype was correct.  This time, there was indeed a potential great player skating on Canada’s rinks once again.

The third period was a carbon copy of the first two and fans were now mesmerized by the display of talent from a 16-year old boy.  Gatineau scored into an empty net for an 8-6 win.  Crosby picked up first star of the game for scoring a goal and adding 5 assists and as he skated out to acknowledge the star, the entire arena erupted in cheers and gave him a standing ovation.  The Oceanic may have lost the game, but Crosby had won over the entire crowd of almost 5000 people that witnessed that night’s performance.  Those that were at first hostile were now cheering him like he was one of their own.  And I am happy to say that I was one of lucky few that witnessed that game.

 Greener