ESPN.com hockey columnist Pierre Lebrun's Question of the Week asks readers, "Which NHL game will you always remember seeing in person?" His involves showing up to a Montreal Canadians game and wathing some skinny, no-named goalie named Patrick Roy--before Roy went on to win three Stanley Cups and cement his reputation as a mega-huge asshole. My answer? Well, the abbreviated version got sent to Lebrun's feedback column, which was lifted from the elongated take below:
It snowed heavily on December 5, 2002, in and around Philadelphia. My roommate—a teammate whose dad was/is a top pro scout for the Flyers—and I drove from Hershey, PA, to Philly to watch the Flyguys face the Rangers. We’d seen countless games before, but tonight was different. Not only was it going to be the first, and likely the last, time to see Hall of Famer Mark Messier play, but we’d gotten some fine seats: high above rink side in the press box, NHL statisticians counted shots to our left, Bobby Clarke, my buddy’s dad, and the rest of the Flyers brass in Clarke’s suite to our right. And this was all after dining in the team’s mess hall in the bowels of the then-First Union Center (now Wachovia) with the likes of Gary Thorne, Al Morganti, and Bill Clement. (Hockey's version of a Monday Night Football crew.)
It was a predictable game between the division rivals that include some fights, the usual chippiness that plagued the NHL pre-lockout, and one of the most incredible behind-the-back-passes and some of the smoothest skating I’ve ever seen from a 40-something Messier. It was Eric Lindros’s first visit since his turbulent exit from Philly; the volume of boos convulsed the arena. Young Kim Johnsson, who’d arrived with Pavel Brendl earlier that year after Clarke finally dealt Lindros, brokeout from behind the Flyers’ net—minded that night by Robert Esche (I think). He weaved through the neutral zone, and, from the top of the slot between the circles, rifled a shot off the Ranegrs’ post. No goal by Johnsson, but a fine display of the talent and style that would eventually phase out the Derian Hatchers of the NHL. A game worth the three-hour drive in thick slush and icy roads.
But it required an extra session. At this point, you’ll remember, overtime was still 5-on-5 and ties quite common. Not tonight. Midway through the stanza, now-Los Angeles King Michal Handzus was awarded a penalty shot. The young eastern European who’d garnered Flyer-fan support with his floppy afro could win the game right here. The only thing between Handzus and the eruption of the sell-out crowd? Dan Blackburn, who spent more time in Mike Richter’s shadow than between the pipes.
The whistle blows and Handzus approaches from center ice, stick handling calmly yet deliberately, not barreling with speed but instead precise strides. Blackburn skates in reverse as the crowd, silent and on its feet, anticipates the first move. It’s Handzus, a left-hand shooter; dropping his left shoulder, he drags the puck to his forehand. Blackburn bites just enough; Handzus pulls it to his backhand and shelves it. Only one other regular season overtime game in NHL history had ended on a penalty shot. Handzus had just ended the second.
It’s not every day a routine divisional match-up ends with enough antics to create history. But combined with the exhilaration of Lindros’s return, a graceful, twilight-of-his-career performance by Mess, and weather conditions that closed schools for days, surely result in the one game I will “always remember seeing in person.”
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