by Mitch Albom | May 8, 1992 | Detroit Free Press
CHICAGO — The temptation is to say “Gimme mine.” Others do. Businessmen. Politicians. Oh, they put up a good front about “what’s best for everyone.” But in the end it’s their own skin they worry about.
And then there’s Steve Yzerman. He has been skating near the top of his profession for years and has watched his peer group of superstars get their dance with the Stanley Cup — Wayne Gretzky, Mark Messier, Mario Lemieux. So when will it be his turn? When does that big wheel stop on No. 19?
by Mitch Albom | May 7, 1992 | Detroit Free Press
CHICAGO –As he climbed the steps, he heard the national anthem — and a jolt went through him that left him numb. They were starting the game. And he wasn’t out there.
When he took his seat, far from the action, they dropped the puck — and another jolt. He wasn’t out there.
And when Chicago scored the first goal, and then another, putting the Red Wings in a deep hole on this suddenly critical playoff series game, the sensation was the same. A jolt, and then–
“Empty,” he sighed.
by Mitch Albom | May 6, 1992 | Detroit Free Press
There were no tears when he stepped to the podium, nothing weak or mushy. Would Chuck Daly ever go mushy in public? Besides, when he first arrived here nine years ago, he couldn’t have filled a bus stop if he called a news conference, and now there were hundreds of important people crammed inside a suburban joint that bears his name — Chuck Daly’s Great Northern Restaurant
— to bid him adieu. So hey. Why cry? Business was booming.
by Mitch Albom | May 4, 1992 | Detroit Free Press
NEW YORK — As they showered and dressed for the last time together, zipping the bags on their fading legacy, they seemed lost as to where to go next. Once upon a time, they had lived for these showdown moments, they were potent, unbeatable, they went all the way...
by Mitch Albom | May 2, 1992 | Detroit Free Press
They are like a fading movie star now, catching only occasional glimpses in the mirror when the light is kind and the makeup is good and they look like their old selves. They squeeze those moments, not because they are so hard to find, but because when the memories...
by Mitch Albom | May 1, 1992 | Detroit Free Press
They were chanting his name like some sort of pagan ritual, louder and louder, until it echoed through the building in this dreamy roar: “CHEVVV-VY! CHEVVV-VY!” Finally, when the work was done, when this little miracle was over, Tim Cheveldae skated out from the net, raised his stick and was mobbed by his teammates, who, like him, had just completed an exhausting journey from the brink of elimination to the horizon of hope.
The Red was back in the black.
by Mitch Albom | May 1, 1992 | Detroit Free Press
They were chanting his name like some sort of pagan ritual, over and over, louder and louder, until it echoed through the building in this slow dreamy roar: “CHEVVV-VY! CHEVVV-VY!” And finally, when the work was done, when the little miracle was over, Tim...
by Mitch Albom | Apr 30, 1992 | Detroit Free Press
The six bottles of Evian water will be lined up tonight, side by side, as usual, near his seat. He will drink them methodically, swigging one, watching the action, swigging another, watching the action. This is what will sustain him. Water? Water. No food. Food slows...
by Mitch Albom | Apr 29, 1992 | Detroit Free Press
MINNEAPOLIS — A goal! A goal! Their kingdom for a goal! The Red Wings were down to the last gasping seconds of their 1992 season, their best season in years, all those victories, all of the weary days from October to April, the first-place finish, the rave reviews, all that excellence and effort now dripping away, dying before their bleary eyes, unless . . . unless they could put that puck in, just once. That would be enough. The score was 0-0. And they were in overtime. One goal! They live or they die.
by Mitch Albom | Apr 29, 1992 | Detroit Free Press
MINNEAPOLIS — They were looking toward heaven, not for God, but, under these peculiar circumstances, the next best thing: the instant replay judge. Was it good? Was it no good? Were the Red Wings still alive, still breathing in these crazy playoffs, heading home...
