Sticking with the blueshirts
I grew up with the 1969 Mets. There are worse things to grow up with. Some years later, in the movie "Oh, God," George Burns, in the role of God, explained: "The last miracle I performed was the 1969 Mets. Before that, I think ypu'd have to go back to the Red Sea!"
But I also grew up with the New York Rangers, and the Rangers never got big miracles. The Rangers history was terrible; in a league with just 6 teams, 4 of which annually made the playoffs, the Rangers were almost always one of the two that would fail to qualify. But my Rangers had Rod Gilbert and Jean Ratelle and Brad Park and Billy Fiarburn. I knew who every player on that team was. I had a Sports Illustrated poster of fearless maskless Eddie Giaocomin on the bedroom wall, facing down John Mckenzie of the Big Bad Bruins. At least one time per season, my father would get us the Tuscan company seats -- section 112, Orange -- for a game. We'd get to New York City from New Jersey by way of Stamford, Connecticut; we'd meet my grandfather and take the train to Grand Central and then the subway to Penn Station, and finally on up to the magical smoke-ringed electric world of Madison Square Garden. When the Rangers scored, a cacophonous blare of air horns would start sounding up in the blue seats. Then we'd have to leave after the 2nd period to get back to Stamford. For a simple 20-mile trip, it was quite the production. My first game was in February, 1970: Rangers 2, Blues 1, and, thankfully, a scoreless 3rd period.
Eventually, my grandfather stopped coming to the games and we took simpler routes to the Garden. But mostly we listened to Marv Albert and the radio calls on WNBC. Even if that meant staying up late, as when Pete Stemkowski scored a goal in the 3rd overtime, just before midnight, to beat the Chicago Blackhawks in Game 6 of the 1971 semi-finals.
Those were seemingly miracle enough; did anyone even remember that the Rangers lost game 7?
Those teams of my youth were never quite good enough to take the Stanley Cup. Every year, as spring rolled around and the Ringling Brothers Circus would take over Madison Square Garden, the ice would get bad, players would be injured, and the team would wilt.
That Rangers team eventually got old, and, by 1975, would be overtaken on the New York sports scene by the expansion Islanders. The Islanders eventually won 4 consecutive Stanley Cups, and their fans would rub it in to Rangers fans by chanting "!940!," mocking the last time the Rangers had won it all. The best Rangers fans could do was to invent chants insulting the Islanders' all-star defenseman Denis Potvin; a practice that has endured, even though Potvin retired in 1988.
Along the way, New Jersey got a hockey team, too. An expansion franchise, having failed as the Kansas City Scouts and the Colorado Rockies, moved to the then-new Brendan Byrne Arena in 1982. The Devils were terrible. Their uniforms, red and green, made them look like skating Christmas trees. In 1984, after Wayne Gretzky's Edmonton Oilers scored 13 goals against the Devils, Gretzky called them a "Mickey Mouse organization."
Sure, I was from New Jersey and proud of it, but I didn't need to root for that. In basketball, the Nets had moved out to New Jersey back in 1977, but they had really moved to New Jersey. The Nets played in Piscataway, for goodness sakes! You'd go to a game there, through all the back roads to get to the Rutgers Athletic Center, and it'd feel like all the cousins assembled. When the Nets -- every bit as awful as those early Devils teams -- actually made the playoffs one year despite a losing record, they got one home playoff game: Southside Johnny did the national anthem. Besides: The Tuscan seats were front row by the visiting team's bench, and we could have them almost as often as we wanted. The Nets were ok.
The Devils eventually changed their color scheme, and both they and the Rangers finally became very good, at the same time. In 1994 they were the two best teams in hockey, and they met in the conference championship. The series went 7 games, and I was in New York City the night of game 7. The Rangers led, 1-0., until surrendering a goal with just 7 seconds left in regulation. Every Rangers fan saw their lives flashing before their eyes as the puck went in.
But then something strange and wonderful happened: The Rangers won. Steffan Matteau scored against Martin Brodeur, and the skies lifted.
After the Rangers won the cup that year, one of the Rangers' reserves, Mike Hartman, brought the Stanley Cup to a local pizza place in Farmington Hills. The cup is for free pizza and beer, right? Patrons were invited to take pictures with Hartman and the cup. When I got up front, I just said, "I didn't actually think I'd live to see this happen." There was only one response: "You gotta hoist it."
Since then, New Jersey has won 3 Stanley Cups and the Rangers have mostly been mediocre. Martin Brodeur still tends goal for the Devils. And I have no shame in confessing that I'll heartily root for my home state team... when they play Philadelphia or Phoenix or Los Angeles. But when everything is on the line, there's only one way to go.
For the first time since that 1994 season, the Rangers and Devils will meet for the Eastern Conference Championship. The Rangers play a scrappy brand of defensive hockey rarely seen in New York. Against Washington, they won one game in triple overtime, and another after Brad Richards tied the game with just 6.6 seconds remaining. Henrik Lundqvist, the goaltender, is as good as any in the business. As for the Devils... they still have Brodeur, and offensive stars such as Ilya Kovalchuk.
It should be a great series. Let the war begin. And may the better team Rangers win.
But I also grew up with the New York Rangers, and the Rangers never got big miracles. The Rangers history was terrible; in a league with just 6 teams, 4 of which annually made the playoffs, the Rangers were almost always one of the two that would fail to qualify. But my Rangers had Rod Gilbert and Jean Ratelle and Brad Park and Billy Fiarburn. I knew who every player on that team was. I had a Sports Illustrated poster of fearless maskless Eddie Giaocomin on the bedroom wall, facing down John Mckenzie of the Big Bad Bruins. At least one time per season, my father would get us the Tuscan company seats -- section 112, Orange -- for a game. We'd get to New York City from New Jersey by way of Stamford, Connecticut; we'd meet my grandfather and take the train to Grand Central and then the subway to Penn Station, and finally on up to the magical smoke-ringed electric world of Madison Square Garden. When the Rangers scored, a cacophonous blare of air horns would start sounding up in the blue seats. Then we'd have to leave after the 2nd period to get back to Stamford. For a simple 20-mile trip, it was quite the production. My first game was in February, 1970: Rangers 2, Blues 1, and, thankfully, a scoreless 3rd period.Eventually, my grandfather stopped coming to the games and we took simpler routes to the Garden. But mostly we listened to Marv Albert and the radio calls on WNBC. Even if that meant staying up late, as when Pete Stemkowski scored a goal in the 3rd overtime, just before midnight, to beat the Chicago Blackhawks in Game 6 of the 1971 semi-finals.
Those were seemingly miracle enough; did anyone even remember that the Rangers lost game 7?
Those teams of my youth were never quite good enough to take the Stanley Cup. Every year, as spring rolled around and the Ringling Brothers Circus would take over Madison Square Garden, the ice would get bad, players would be injured, and the team would wilt.
That Rangers team eventually got old, and, by 1975, would be overtaken on the New York sports scene by the expansion Islanders. The Islanders eventually won 4 consecutive Stanley Cups, and their fans would rub it in to Rangers fans by chanting "!940!," mocking the last time the Rangers had won it all. The best Rangers fans could do was to invent chants insulting the Islanders' all-star defenseman Denis Potvin; a practice that has endured, even though Potvin retired in 1988.
Sure, I was from New Jersey and proud of it, but I didn't need to root for that. In basketball, the Nets had moved out to New Jersey back in 1977, but they had really moved to New Jersey. The Nets played in Piscataway, for goodness sakes! You'd go to a game there, through all the back roads to get to the Rutgers Athletic Center, and it'd feel like all the cousins assembled. When the Nets -- every bit as awful as those early Devils teams -- actually made the playoffs one year despite a losing record, they got one home playoff game: Southside Johnny did the national anthem. Besides: The Tuscan seats were front row by the visiting team's bench, and we could have them almost as often as we wanted. The Nets were ok.
The Devils eventually changed their color scheme, and both they and the Rangers finally became very good, at the same time. In 1994 they were the two best teams in hockey, and they met in the conference championship. The series went 7 games, and I was in New York City the night of game 7. The Rangers led, 1-0., until surrendering a goal with just 7 seconds left in regulation. Every Rangers fan saw their lives flashing before their eyes as the puck went in.
But then something strange and wonderful happened: The Rangers won. Steffan Matteau scored against Martin Brodeur, and the skies lifted.
After the Rangers won the cup that year, one of the Rangers' reserves, Mike Hartman, brought the Stanley Cup to a local pizza place in Farmington Hills. The cup is for free pizza and beer, right? Patrons were invited to take pictures with Hartman and the cup. When I got up front, I just said, "I didn't actually think I'd live to see this happen." There was only one response: "You gotta hoist it."
Since then, New Jersey has won 3 Stanley Cups and the Rangers have mostly been mediocre. Martin Brodeur still tends goal for the Devils. And I have no shame in confessing that I'll heartily root for my home state team... when they play Philadelphia or Phoenix or Los Angeles. But when everything is on the line, there's only one way to go.
For the first time since that 1994 season, the Rangers and Devils will meet for the Eastern Conference Championship. The Rangers play a scrappy brand of defensive hockey rarely seen in New York. Against Washington, they won one game in triple overtime, and another after Brad Richards tied the game with just 6.6 seconds remaining. Henrik Lundqvist, the goaltender, is as good as any in the business. As for the Devils... they still have Brodeur, and offensive stars such as Ilya Kovalchuk.
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