Detroit Free Press

Steve Yzerman wanted to break something. He paced the locker room, while his sweat-drenched teammates slumped on their chairs, reeling from the evening's defeat. Yzerman grabbed a glass and moved to a private area behind the showers. Now he was alone. He cocked the glass like a baseball pitcher -- "Throw it! Vent your anger!" the voices sang in his head -- and he was about to smash it into a thousand pieces, when, suddenly, another voice inside whispered, "What good will that do? It won't change things."And he froze.