I was living in Vancouver at the time of Guy Lafleur’s first retirement, in 1984. In the Canadian newspapers of the following days, the news was less the end of the career of the greatest player of his era than the shock caused by this departure. among Quebec hockey fans. Torn between astonishment and wonder, a Canadian columnist mentioned the size of the special section that a Montreal tabloid had devoted to the event: 40 pages, if memory serves — but it was perhaps more.
This is the memory that came back to me in front of the front page of Montreal Journal on Monday announcing 11 pages on the hiring of Patrick Roy by the New York Islanders. Starting my diary at the end like all true aficionados, I only counted nine. But hey, that’s still one page more than the entire notebook A of my Duty.
Of course, popularity is measured in media space. But there is more here than a simple craze of the kind that the good people reserve for the stars of the song and the actors of the umpteenth TV series. As true heroes sometimes do, Roy’s legend grows with time, just as the shine of the Stanley Cup grows with distance, contradicting the laws of physics.
A legend is not built only on the number of cups won, otherwise the “Pocket Rocket”, Henri Richard, would sit higher than his famous brother. Epic requires drama. The journey of Béliveau, who entered the legend in the guise of a worthy gentleman who never messed up his hair, would then be the exception which confirms the rule.
Maurice Richard carried the riot of the old Forum on his back. Roy and Lafleur have in common that they were chased out of Montreal by a rookie coach and a former teammate. Lemaire’s defensive obsession and his famous system defeated Flower. And how can we forget the fire of the glances exchanged, one thawing evening, between Casseau and Bleuet?
There he is, Patrick Roy. With Maurice, Big Bill and Ti-Guy. Perhaps the last of the great Canadians.
In an interview, Roy linked his return behind the bench of a team to the father figure of the outstanding motivator that was Jacques Demers, himself patronized, we remember, by the good Saint Anne. But it is another colorful character, another “king in New York”, that this guy from Quebec who landed in the Big Apple brings to mind: Michel Bergeron. Same hot character, the red chard, the easy rant behind the bench. Bloods that thrive on intensity. In his first game at the helm of the Colorado Avalanche in 2013, Roy tore a piece of the players’ bench.
The parallel does not end there. In 1987, just a few months after the goal-denied-to-Alain-Côté-who-was-good, “Bergie”, whose Nordiques had reached the final four twice in the previous five years, presented at the legendary Madison Square Garden with the mandate to shake up the Rangers who had not lifted the cup for almost half a century.
Roy, for his part, is going to mix up a team whose drought of championships has lasted for a good 40 years. Strange historical journey that of these Islanders, an expansion club of the 1970s which, in the first half of the following decade, would line up four consecutive conquests of the Lord Stanley bowl, the only team to have ever succeeded in threatening the emblematic French record of five cups in a row.
But after this dynasty led by Bossy, Trottier, Gillies, Goring and other Billy Smiths, almost nothing. Since 1984, among teams whose continuous existence dates back at least to that era, the Islanders have been one of two National League teams not to play in a final series; the other, small consolation, being the pathetic Toronto Maple Leafs.
But the Islanders appeared in the final four in 2020 and 2021 – both times, gossip will say, thanks to a little help from a damn coronavirus. Who knows if Patrick will not succeed, with this rather anonymous band devoid of stars, the same feat as Uncle Demers in 1993: take an ordinary team and announce to them in October that they will surprise the world and win the Cup Stanley; then, with injections of pure faith and slaps on the back, take this group to nowhere but the top of the universe.
I still see a parallel with the Blue Shirts of 1987. Bergeron had been hired by a sacred hockey monster, the big Phil Esposito, in a mood as explosive as our national Tiger and whose patience was not the greatest virtue. Despite honest results and participation in the series, the CEO was going flush Bergeron on a whim less than two years later, a few days before the start of the big spring tournament.
Roy’s new boss, Lou Lamoriello, another hockey legend, pulled the same stunt twice in the past, to Robbie Ftorek and Claude Julien. The untimely coach that is Patrick will therefore evolve into the kind of general manager who keeps his finger on the peg of the ejection seat. This will be interesting to watch.
As I finish this text, I still don’t know the result of Thursday night’s Islanders-Canadian game. But I know one thing: the evening will not have been flat at the Bell Centre.
At the same time, the Ottawa Senators continued to await the conclusions of the final report of the committee composed of subcommittees themselves composed of sub-subcommittees responsible for making recommendations regarding the hiring of their future coach , the soporific Jacques Martin acting as interim while Casseau passed under their noses. What a funny idea, too, to attach the dubious name of senators to athletes whose main quality is to be “quick on their skates”.