The combination of rage and adrenaline can empower a human being and provide the strength to accomplish something that ordinarily would be impossible. At around 1:10 p.m. on Saturday afternoon, I became so enraged that my adrenal glands began communicating directly with my fingers, imploring them to type. The resulting column is the product of disappointment, anger and regret.
The place is Boston. The venue is the FleetCenter. The event is the homecoming of a hero. March 24, 2001 had been circled on the mental calendar of all hockey fans as the day Raymond Jean Bourque would return to Boston as a member of the Colorado Avalanche.
Here is a man who personifies the blue-collar guy in Boston. He remained loyal to one team for more than two decades. He played more minutes more efficiently than any defenseman this side of Paul Coffey. And all of the man’s glorious accomplishments were to be wrapped up neatly inside of a two-minute video clip on the Fleet’s Jumbotron.
I was parked firmly in front of the television. The tape was rewound, and the nail on my index finger was digging ever deeper into the rubber of the play button. Gary Thorne’s obligatory dramatic buildup to the game had just ended, and ABC’s coverage was under way. The crowd was deafening and Kerry Fraser was all set to drop the puck.
“You’ve gotta be friggin’ kidding me!” I screamed loud enough for Terry Sawchuk to hear. Boston’s modern day equivalent of Bobby Orr or Carl Yastrzemski had returned, and the TV audience was not permitted to see the clip.
Who cares if we don’t see the clip; it isn’t all that big a deal, is it? Well, just to put things in perspective, consider that Bourque himself had doubts about being on the ice while the clip played for fear that it would be too poignant. He did not want to be overcome with emotion before the game.
As further evidence of the type of reaction that such a dedication elicits, I present the case of Mark Messier. A couple of years ago a similar presentation was made when Messier returned to Madison Square Garden donning a Vancouver Canucks sweater. Arguably one of the toughest athletes around, the video transformed Messier into Dick Vermeil on skates. His tears, flowing like a water mane had been punctured, speak volumes about the emotional chord that such a tribute can strike.
Still livid, I decided to watch the game anyway. When ABC came back from a barrage of commercials, the Avalanche were exchanging high-fives and Byron Dafoe looked dejected.
Why?
Joe Sakic had just streaked through the left wing circle and gone five-hole. But I would have had no way of knowing that if not for instant replay. So, not only was the viewing audience deprived of the salute to Bourque, but also of the first nine seconds of play, which happened to include Sakic’s 46th goal. Let’s just say that my reaction to this turn of events is simply inappropriate for print media. Missing out on the goal may have been excusable if our attention had been diverted by a Ray Bourque highlight reel. But a Southwest Airlines commercial?
With time winding down in the first period, Thorne revealed there would be a guest speaker in the booth for the second period. On Bourque’s big day, who would add the most insight and color? Names from the hockey annals began racing through my head in anticipation of the guest speaker. John Bucyk? Terry O’Reilly? Phil Esposito?
I was way off.
The inimitable Denis Leary was to join the crew. This was neither the time nor the place for ABC to create another sports/comedy hybrid a la Dennis Miller. You don’t have to be Nancy Drew to figure out ABC’s ulterior motive. Leary schmoozed Thorne and Bill Clement and cheered on his beloved Bruins for a while. But his true objective was about as inconspicuous as John Rocker at the Million Man March. Leary was there to shamelessly plug his new show, “The Job,” which just so happens to be on ABC. But on this day, the hockey fans were the only ones getting jobbed.
Come to think of it, there are even more casualties as a result of ABC owning the NHL’s TV rights. Perhaps the most unfortunate aspect is that hometown announcers fall by the wayside in favor of national broadcasters. Which is not to say that Thorne and Clement aren’t great announcers, because they are. But they can’t capture the spirit and vigor of the event the same way that the Bruins’ play-by-play guys can. Dale Arnold, who calls the Bruins games for NESN and is a two-time Emmy Award winner for outstanding sports play-by-play coverage, admitted he was bitter over the decision. And he should be. He’s been doing the Bruins games for six years and now, in one of the biggest Boston sports moments of the year, must step aside. He is forced to let someone else feign the genuine attachment that he forged with Bourque over the years.
Once again, the fans lose out. Consider this horrifying fact: due to TV contracts we will not hear our hometown announcers in the playoffs. If the Bruins go on to win the Stanley Cup, it won’t be Dale Arnold or Dave Shea (UPN) proclaiming the B’s are champions. Ranger fans would have been deprived of Sam Rosen’s declaration that “This one will last a lifetime,” back in 1994, before the advent of these ridiculous TV contracts.
Hey, does anyone else want to bring back FOX’s hockey robots and the glow puck?
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