JUNE 1994-PART 4

                                               NOW I CAN DIE IN PEACE

    In the 54 years between Stanley Cups, the Rangers had made it to the Finals 3 times. In 1950, they lost
Game 7 in 2 overtimes to the Gordie Howe lead Red Wings, where they played all their home games in
Toronto because the circus took priority at the Garden. In 1972, the lost to the great Bobby Orr and the
Bruins. In 1979, they lost to a Canadiens team that was finishing up a four-cup dynasty. In all 3 series,
they were the underdog, especially in 1979, no one really expected them to win. Now in 1994, they were
overwhelming favorites to win it all
    But thinking back to all the bad luck and everything that had gone wrong in the relatively few years I
had been watching hockey, not to mention all the bad luck of the previous years, how could one not
reasonably expect that the team would once again collapse.
    This is what faced me as I made the lonely walk from my house to Sessions on Tuesday June 14. Ray
had to get up early the next day and Karl had to work. I thought about going to Shelley's where I knew
there would be a bunch of Ranger fans I knew. I also thought about going with my dad to our neighbors
house. But in the end, I decided that the only reason we had lost games 5 and 6 was that I hadn't gotten
to Sessions when the puck was dropped and that I hadn't seen the whole of Game 6 while I was in
transit. I'd be in my booth at Sessions for the whole game tonight.
    When I got to Sessions that night, there were four guys in suits sitting in my booth.  One of the guys
started talking to me. They were Islander fans and they were rooting for Vancouver. Despite this
character flaw, they were actually nice guys who bought me a beer between periods.
     The Garden was as loud as it ever was before, which kind of surprised me. This was the hottest ticket
in town, and every time they panned the crowd all I saw was a bunch of guys in suits. They had torn out a
bunch of blue seats to put in luxury boxes and priced many other fans out of their seats. But evidently
there were enough die-hards to pump up the juice.
      It seemed like forever, but it was actually 11:02 in when Brian Leetch put the Rangers on the board
with a goal from the left side. A few minutes later, Adam Graves scored to make it 2-0, for the first time
in a week, I was starting to feel confident.
    The Canucks scored the only goal in the second period. I never wanted an intermission to end more
quickly. I thought about going to Shelley's or even to Espo's for the third period, but it was too damn
close. I felt good vibes at Sessions. I had to stay. But I wanted to get it on already. I wasn't interested in
what Sam Rosen or John Davidson or even Emile (The Cat) Francis had o say. I wasn't interested in
seeing interviews with Dave Maloney and Ron Duguay or Rod Gilbert. Sure I loved them all, but they had
their chance. I just wanted the game over with.
    The next hour would be a blur, and not because I was drinking beer. I've watched the videos and the
replays hundreds of times, but I couldn't tell you how I was feeling for most of the third period. Mark
Messier scored to make it 3-1, then the Canucks scored again to make it a one goal game. From there
Mike Richter took over. The Canucks had plenty of chances to tie it up only to be rebuffed by Richter.
The one thing I do remember is towards the end, I was convinced the refs were out to get us. Twice they
made questionable icing calls in the final minute, including one with 1.6 seconds left. Between coach
Mike Keenan arguing with the ref, the ref conferring with the timekeeper to determine how much time was
left, and the Garden ice crew cleaning off the premature confetti, that 1.6 seconds took about 7 minutes.
In that time, I kept seeing the picture in my brain, of the Canucks winning the face-off and blowing a shot
right past Richter to send the game into overtime, and me to St John's Hospital with heart palps. I leaned
over to the suits in front of me and said "This is too much. I hope you are enjoying this." They were like,
"what are you worried about, you guys have it in the bag." I bet these guys were Yankee fans as well as
Islander fans.
    The face-off finally happened and Ranger Craig Mactavish won it and the 1.6 seconds ticked off the
clock. The four suits all turned around and shook my hand and said congratulations as they walked out. I
was frozen otherwise. It was unreal. A couple of people hugged me, but still I was just frozen.
    As the realization started to hit me, I started going crazy, jumping up and down, high fiving and
running in and out of the bar. On 69th Street, horns were honking, especially when I waved my Ranger
jersey. It was bedlam in New York that night.

(In Vancouver it was bedlam too. But more like Rodney King bedlam. Vancouver, known as one of the
most beautiful cities in North America erupted in riots that night. Served them right too, they had taken to
the streets on Saturday night after game 6 and partied as if they had already won)

    I wanted to go home and celebrate with dad, but I stayed at Sessions until I saw it for myself. I tried to
get the bar to join me in a chorus of "we want the Cup!", but I ended up chanting it myself. First they
gave Brian Leetch the Stanley Cup Playoff MVP award. Then minutes later, they brought it out. Only then
did it really hit me.

We had the Cup.

    I watched them skate it around for a bit, then I ran home and gave my dad a hug. He was excited, but
he also had to get up for work the next morning, so he turned in. That's my dad for you. He's been a fan
since the early 60's, so he waited 30 years for this moment. And now that it had come, he was hitting the
hay.

    I had no such plans. For one thing I didn't have to work till 6 PM the next night. For another, there was
partying to do. So I ran all the way from my house to Queens Blvd, where I waved my jersey as cars
sped by honking. Then I got to 61 Street and Woodside Ave, two guys were celebrating. I had figured
Roosevelt Avenue would be rocking, but it was kind of quiet.
Till I got to Shelleys.
 
    Shelleys was a madhouse, and as soon as I walked in, I was jumped by Pete Esposito, Ed
Miskouvsky, Kevin (Buck) Ludwig, and Joe Walsh amongst others. Victor the bartender called me the
best dressed man in the place. Brian Anderson had made a replica Stanley Cup out of tinfoil. I wished I
had been there when the game ended. But they didn't have the movie screen TV, and anytime I watched a
game at Shelley's my team lost (As I would figure out a week later)
    But I asked Buck how it was when it was over and he said it was undescribable. I asked him what Pete
Espo had done when they won. Pete and I, at one time were best friends. We liked all the same teams
(except for football) and for most of grammar school we were inseperable. But he was a year younger
than me, and I started getting closer to guys in my own year (namely Ray and Karl). Plus Pete had a big
mouth and made enemies quickly. But when we were kids we took an awful lot of crap from Islander fans
who were in the midst of their four Cup run in the early 80's. This night was ours.
So when I asked Buck what Pete did, I shouldn't have laughed when he said "He cried. He sat that like a
baby and f-ckin cried." Esp since I was on the verge after the Devil series. But the way he said it I had to
laugh.
    Espo and I walked home around 3:30 or so. We talked about how great this must have been for our
dads, and about all the abuse we took for being Ranger fans in an Islander era. Then as we got across
Queens Blvd, he asked me "You think OJ did it?"
"Did what?"
"You know, kill his wife?"
"Of course not."
    We joked about what a lousy job he did on NBC's NFL pregame show, and what a jerk he was in those
Naked Gun movies. Yes I was aware that he had been arrested for spousal abuse, but murder. No way.
Besdies, I saw the news, didn't they question and release him on Monday?
    In any event, I wasn't going to let the troubles of a washed up athlete dim what was one of the great
nights I ever had. After 54 years the curse was over. What a relief

NEXT JUNE 15-17, 1994