11/02/2001 - There's a Killer on the road...
In the 1993 playoffs, I saw something that scared me. The face of a “Killer.” He was bruised and gaunt, his compact frame nothing but muscle and heart. There was fire in his eyes. A fire that hadn’t been seen since…well, since the Rocket’s bleu blanc et rouge glare.
So why was I scared? Because it wasn’t a firey red of Les Glorieux that he was wearing, it was the dreaded Toronto Maple Leaf sweater. Moreover, it looked like the Canadiens might just have to face him in the Stanley Cup Finals, and I’m sorry to say I didn’t think the Habs could beat the “Killer”.
As we know, everything turned out the right way that year for Habs’ fans in the end. Montreal never had to face Doug Gilmour and the Leafs. Whew! However, not much has gone the right way since then. Oh sure, there was an unexpected and exciting first round playoff win against Jagr and the Pens in 1998, but lately, it’s only bad news that comes out of the Molson Centre.
Now wait a minute, you say. What about the fast start this year? Hope? Then they signed “Killer” himself. Playoff bound? Well, let’s not get carried away just yet.
Doug Gilmour came into a hockey town that desperately needs a winner (sounds like déja vu all over again doesn’t it – the Leafs were just awful before he showed up in Hogtown). Battered and bruised over the past 2 or 3 years, the Canadiens have been criticized for being too weak, too fragile, and too young - each descriptor a result of being one of the NHL’s Third World teams. What the Canadiens needed was emotion, drive, fire. Gilmour was about to make an impact in that direction right away.
Knowing only too well how many man-games Montreal had lost in the recent past, how their talented captain was undergoing cancer treatment, the injury to goaltender Jeff Hackett in a game against Buffalo, set the stage for the Killer’s revenge. There’s no love lost between the Sabres and number 93, and it showed when he took the ice in Buffalo a couple of nights later. When goalie Jose Theodore made a daring dash to the blueline, he collided with the Sabres’ Vaclav Varada. Without thinking, purely on instinct, Gilmour went after his former teammate. “Mess with another one of my goalies and you’ll pay, brother!” Theodore left the game with a concussion, Gilmour and Varada were each given a 1-game suspension, but the Habs won the game.
I know, it’s hardly the Rocket Riots of March 1955, but it is something. The Canadiens have given up on so many gritty, talented power forwards since they won The Cup™ in ’93 (John LeClair, Darcy Tucker, Turner Stevenson, Mike Keane, Craig Conroy to name a few… merci, M. Houle) that it’s good to see some kind of emotion. Even if it has to come from a geezer.
The Magic Numbers?
But let’s think about this geezer and the numbers that surround him.
- 1982: Gilmour drafted by the St. Louis Blues
- 1982: current Montreal back-up back-up goalie Olivier Michaud not born yet
- 39: number worn by Gilmour in St. Louis and Calgary
- 39: age Gilmour will be around the time Mr. Bettman is presenting the the 2002 Stanley Cup
- 93: number worn by Gilmour since he left Calgary
- 93: the last year Montreal won the Stanley Cup
Coincidence? A little mystique still left in the Club de Hockey? Well here’s another interesting tidbit about the 1993 playoffs: Montreal faced the New York Islanders in the Eastern Conference Finals that year. Yes, the surprising Isles had a surprising year back then… kinda like they’re having now…?!
Forgive me. A girl’s gotta dream!
(Post script)
When I was asked to write a weekly column about the Montreal Canadiens, I was both elated and depressed. I have been Montreal’s biggest fan and harshest critic forever, and it’s kind of a dream to write about them. But then I thought, is it going to be week after week of injury reports and near death experiences, not to mention the constant despair of defeat?
Probably. But that has never kept a true hockey pundit down before. As much as I’ll want to cheerlead and wave the flag, you can be sure I’ll call it as it is. And if it gets too bleak in the cold dark winter months, I’ll just pretend it’s the mid-1970’s and we’ll all feel better!