The NHL guys loved the whole Olympics package. It took us back to our roots when we were twelve, thirteen, fourteen and used to get billeted with families at hockey tournaments. The players ate it up. I loved that we had three or four guys to each dorm. My roommates were Martin Brodeur, Rob Brind’Amour, and Steve Yzerman, and I think that, for all of us, being away from the distractions of friends, family, and the media brought us back to what hockey was all about. Our dorm had one room with two beds and then two rooms each with a single bed. It wasn’t fancy by any means, but it was cool. We really liked it. And since goalies work on different schedules, we all said, “You know, Marty, since you’re a goalie, you take a single.” That’s when Brodeur said, “No, it’s okay. I’m not playing.”
We were all shocked—“What do you mean you’re not playing?” Marty was possibly the best goalie in the world at the time, and he went on to set several records, including most wins in the NHL. He had incredible reflexes, and he handled the puck so well that he was like a third defenseman when the other team dumped the puck in. The NHL finally decided to bring in the “Brodeur Rule” to prevent him from quarterbacking the breakout. Any team would want Marty in the net.
But he was fine with sitting. “In my meeting on the plane they told me. I’m the third goalie, I’m not going to play.” He hadn’t said a word about it, and he wasn’t complaining. “Hey, listen, don’t tell anyone,” Marty continued. “This is not a big thing, and I don’t want it to be an issue in the locker room. That’s just the way it is.” He was such a team guy, and so professional about it, that it was unreal.
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We had a really good tournament. We were undefeated in the round robin, and even handled Team USA without much trouble, beating them 4–1. We gave up only four goals against in the first four games. Team Canada usually starts slowly, as guys from different teams take time to figure out how to play together. But we were firing on all cylinders from the beginning.
And in the semis we had a great game against the Czechs. We were controlling the play and skating them into the ice. They were just trying to hang on, and they did. We were going into overtime, tied 1–1.
The problem was, we didn’t know what came next.
We’d been so well prepared for the entire event. We had a big meeting on the airplane on the way over, and then more meetings about practice time, sleep, rest, when we’d have our meals, the system we were going to play, and who was going to play. But the one thing we didn’t know was that there was a ten-minute overtime, followed by a shootout. The players had all just assumed that, as in the NHL playoffs, we’d settle it in sudden death, so we were caught off guard. It’s possible that the coaches knew and didn’t want to tell us. Sometimes as a coach or management you don’t want players to have that option in the back of their minds.
In this day and age it’s different because shootouts are part of our game. Back then we never did them. Ever. The European teams always had shootouts, though—whether it was in minor hockey, junior tournaments, club championships, or the league, it was part of their repertoire. So, without wanting to sound arrogant, if we’d kept going in overtime, we would have beaten them, no question. Our guys knew how to play sudden death because it was part of our repertoire.
When we went into the first minute of overtime, I remember thinking, “Oh my God, they’re playing for a shootout.” They’d get to center ice, dump it in, and no one would go get the puck. It was the craziest thing I’d ever seen. It was almost as if the Czech goalie, Dominik Hasek, had told them, “Listen, just get us into the shootout.”
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We used to do a breakaway thing at the All-Star games’ skills competition. And that year, Hasek had given up only two goals in thirty-two shots. Both were scored by Joe Sakic. I looked up at the stands and saw Joe sitting there with his crutches—he’d sprained his knee when Rob Blake crushed a guy in the Kazakh game and the guy fell over Joe’s left leg. Joe was so great on the breakaway. He’d come in with speed, then fake a shot and slip it in the five-hole or low blocker, or follow the fake by roofing a backhand. Joe could put the puck in a coffee cup. If a goalie’s glove was down a bit, he could find an inch and go high glove. When you’re in a moment where there’s that much pressure, you don’t worry about the other guy, you worry more about what you’re comfortable doing, and those were his moves.
But Hasek wasn’t like other goalies. He was awkward and always seemed to be sprawling the crease without his stick. But he didn’t quit. You would think you had him beat, but he’d find a way. If you had him beat wide, you’d still have to put it under the bar because if you tried shooting low he’d find a way to kick it or to do something with his body to make a save. He was unreal. He could make saves even when he looked out of position. You’d have to surprise him, shoot before he was ready, and it had to be quick. Because if he was ready, forget it. On top of all that, Dominik was such a hot hand that day. Sometimes a goalie is just unbeatable.
I remember sitting beside Steve Yzerman and him asking me who was shooting. I had no idea. But that meant it wasn’t us. Coach Marc Crawford called up Theo Fleury, Joe Nieuwendyk, Eric Lindros, Brendan Shanahan, and Ray Bourque. Incredible talent in that group, and all clutch guys. Plus I knew that Patrick Roy was just as good as Hasek at the other end. My first thought was, “We’re going to win this over the five shots.” Then Hasek stopped Theo. And their first shooter, Robert Reichel, scored. Roy could shut the door, but we still had to get one. Bourque was stopped. Then Nieuwendyk. Lindros was up next for us. He went in at full speed, head-faked Hasek to the ice, then hit the post with a backhander. Two shooters left, one for each team. Jaromir Jagr had a chance to put it out of reach, but he hit the post too. That left Shanahan. He tried to pull the puck to Hasek’s glove side, but Dominik outwaited him and he ran out of space.
We were crushed. Such an empty feeling. We hadn’t even lost the game. We were knocked out of gold-medal contention because of an event.
• • •
If you lose in the NHL, you go home. And when you go to world tournaments, you go to win a gold medal. And now here we were, playing the Finns for third. That game, playing for bronze, was the worst game ever. It was so bad I used to joke that I’d rather have played in an All-Star game. In a way that’s a good thing. Because from midget hockey through to World Juniors, Team Canada is taught that it’s gold or nothing. I think that puts a lot more pressure on Team Canada than other countries have to handle, though. You need guys who can handle that pressure. In my view, we should have taken Mark Messier to Nagano. His experience and his ability to play his best under pressure would have been huge assets. But I know why we went in the direction we did in 1998—we had lost in 1996. And when you lose, you adjust and get better. That’s why the decision was made to take one of us, but not both. And yet, when the margin between defeat and victory was so close, there is no doubt in my mind that Mark would have made the difference.
It was such a hard game for us to play. It was so miserable—it really was. Throughout my entire career I tried to win every single game I ever played. I hated losing, but it was better for hockey when Jari Kurri and the Finns beat us and won the bronze medal because it meant way more to their country. Finland is smaller, and winning that medal helped build their hockey program.
Obviously the team was very depressed after that game. The question was do we charter home Saturday or do we stay for the closing ceremony on Sunday? All of us voted to stay. If we’d won the gold medal we would have stayed, and so it wouldn’t be right to leave just because we lost.
We’d played so well all the way through—and then to lose on a shootout? It doesn’t keep me up nights, but it still bites.
• • •
After the tournament ended and I retired, Bobby Clarke sent Bob Nicholson a letter saying that I should be the director of the 2002 Olympic team.
Bob and I met a few times and I talke
d about my thoughts and ideas. I told him that I wanted a smaller management group, and that I wanted to hire a head coach who understood the importance of being on the same page as the players, because you really only have ten days to win gold. The coach has got to be the kind of guy who’d not only give his assistants things to do, but give them actual responsibility. I also told him that I thought Pat Quinn would be the perfect choice.
And so Bob Nicholson really took a big chance when he stepped outside the box, and instead of hiring an active NHL general manager, he hired me.
The first guy I hired was Kevin Lowe because we look at the game the exact same way. Then we hired Steve Tambellini and Lanny McDonald. What a great group.
When we picked the team, we picked it as a group. You choose guys on the basis of two really good years or eight good career years. Everyone had a say, but the one guy I pushed for was Theo Fleury. I’d played against him for years and had always found him to be a gutsy, big-game player. Theo was going through some hard times at that point, and so I called him up. I didn’t have to ask him to make any promises. I knew he’d do what he needed to do.
I have to tell you, there were times when I was genuinely scared for our team. Not after our first game, when we lost to Sweden 5–2, but after Game Two against Germany. We’d been up 3–0, and then they scored two third-period goals. We won 3–2, but it was a really ugly game. Germany should have been a tune-up game for us, but it was a real struggle.
So we were in the car driving back from the Peaks Ice Arena in Provo, Utah, and I felt genuinely sick—as in physically nauseated. I thought, “Wow, we’re in trouble here.” Meanwhile, the Americans were flying, and that made it worse. I thought, “What’s wrong with Canada? The Americans are taking over!” The only thing that kept me going was the thought that in ’98 we’d been flying through too, and that had ended pretty abruptly. Lanny McDonald was so positive. He kept saying, “Don’t worry. This is gonna be fine, we’re gonna be fine, this team is good.”
Curtis Joseph was a great goalie that year. Pat Quinn was coaching him in Toronto. He would end his season 29–17–5. There was no question that he deserved to start Game One, but Marty Brodeur was a really good goaltender too. So we came up with a plan. Curtis would play Game One, and if we won it, Marty would play Game Two and Curtis would play Game Three. But if we lost Game One and Marty won Game Two, he’d play Game Three, which is what happened.
When you’re playing in the Olympics, you can’t afford to make one mistake. You’re playing with the best of the best. There are three to four hundred other players who want to be in your shoes. Sometimes there’s a problem if you go with the hot hand and he gets injured in the third or fourth game. Where does that leave the second guy? His confidence will be down. And yet Curtis understood, because Marty had been his backup at both the World Cup of Hockey and the IIHF World Championships in 1996. So even though it was tough for Curtis not to be in net, he was really positive.
As the years went on, I got to know Curtis really well. He’s one of the best people in the world—nothing but class. It can be hard when we all have such pride as athletes. Everyone wants to be a part of the game. A good team guy will say, “Whatever is best for the team.” But deep down, a great athlete is saying, “I wish that was me.” Back in ’98, when I was sitting on the bench during the shootout, yeah, I wished I was one of the five guys tapped. But if you don’t think that way, you don’t make it.
Ed Belfour backed up Marty and Curtis. His attitude is pretty typical of most Canadian players, and it shows you why Canadians have been so successful in international competition. When we were putting the team together, I called up Ed and said, “Listen, you’re going to be the third guy, and if that doesn’t work for you, I get it. No one will know I asked you.” Ed said, “Are you crazy? I’m definitely going to be there, and I’ll be the team’s biggest cheerleader.” He was so gung ho, scouting teams and helping our goalies. It was pretty remarkable.
Then we played the Czechs and tied 3–3—and that was the game where I took off on a spontaneous rant at the press conference. I was frustrated. When you’re the guy running the show, if you don’t win you take all the bullets, and rightly so.
But you know when you’re shaving or in the shower and you have talks with yourself? When you take all the injustices and all the insecurities that have been swirling around at the back of your mind and you argue them out? We hadn’t won gold since 1952, and here we were, one, one, and one. I was thinking (again), “What’s wrong with Canada? The Americans are undefeated!” And so when Paul Romanuk asked me a silly question about our NHL guys taking so long to get rolling because they lacked respect for the international game, I started to heat up.
Our guys weren’t just out there coasting. I thought about the game against the Czechs. They had a great team with Hasek and Jagr, but we’d played really well in the third period, outskating them while the Czechs were doing everything they could to slow us down. Plus, when Theo Fleury was standing in front of the net and Roman Hamrlik gave him a wicked cross-check in the back, there was no call. I got emotional. I said, “I don’t think we dislike those countries as much as they hate us . . . they love beating us . . . and we gotta get that same feeling toward them.”
And it just sort of manifested to a point where I remember saying that there was a spear and a cross-check in the same play, and that if we’d done that it would’ve been a big story. I kind of went off about how there were four or five blatant penalties that weren’t called, and then I added, “I’m tired of people taking shots at Canadian hockey. When we do it we’re hooligans, but when Europeans do it it’s okay because they’re not tough or they’re not dirty? That’s a crock of crap.” I really did feel the world was against us.
I didn’t even realize it was a big deal until the next morning, when I got a bunch of phone calls from friends in Canada talking about what a great press conference it had been. I remember thinking, “What did I say?”
• • •
Typically, Canadian teams get better as the tournament goes along, and our team was no exception. We got really lucky that Belarus upset the Swedes. It was an eleven a.m. game, and I don’t know if this is true, but someone told me that the Swedes were so confident about winning that Hardy Nilsson, the Swedish coach, had scheduled a practice earlier that morning. So the players were really tired when they played that game.
They lost 4–3 on a shot from center ice that hit Swedish goalie Tommy Salo in the mask and bounced over his head.
I was sitting in my hotel room in Salt Lake City when Vladimir Kopat scored that goal for Belarus with about two minutes left. I was so excited that I jumped up on the couch and almost hit my head on the ceiling. We wouldn’t be seeing the Swedes again! We went on to beat Belarus 7–1 in the semis, and then we got to the final game against the Americans.
When you’re a player going into a final game you’re excited, but parents, family, friends, and coaches are really nervous. In my position, what could I do? I had to just sit there and sweat. It’s so much easier when you’re on the ice. When someone asked me, “How do you think the game will go today?” I said, “Well, if Mario, Sakic, and Yzerman are the best three players, we’re gonna win.”
I went down to the locker room about two hours before the final just to wish the guys good luck and to say hello to the coaches. I was chatting with Stevie Yzerman, who was on the trainer’s table. Ken Lowe was icing down his knee and working on his leg. As I left the locker room I said, “All right, well, good luck today.” I was halfway down the hallway when Ken came running after me. He said, “Wayne! Wayne! Can I talk to you?” I said, “Yeah, what’s up?” And he said, “I gotta tell you this. Yzerman’s knee is so bad that if this was Game Seven I wouldn’t let him play.” I said, “Well, tell him thank God this is only a gold-medal game.” That’s the kind of guy Steve was. And just as Bobby Clarke wrote to Bob Nicholson about my taking over the 2002 team b
ecause, as Bobby put it, “It’s time to sort of let someone else do it,” I felt the same way about Vancouver and Sochi. I met with Bob and told him that Stevie was a first-class guy who knows hockey. Stevie Yzerman was the right guy.
Nothing was going to keep him off the ice for that game. Stevie ended up playing on one leg. That’s the kind of leader he was. There was no way he was going to miss the opportunity to play a role in that game. It was a hugely emotional game. The rink was buzzing with both the home crowd and Canadians who had made the trip. And the fact that the women’s team had just won gold over the Americans in an epic game also gave the guys a lift.
Both teams came out on fire. Everyone played great that game. When the Americans scored first, we didn’t panic even though it was a clean breakaway. We just harnessed that emotion and kept playing our game. Paul Kariya scored a classic for us, taking a pass from Chris Pronger that went right between Mario’s skates. Then Jarome Iginla, who had a huge tournament for us, banged in another. Brian Rafalski tied it for the Americans off a point shot, but we kept coming. Sakic scored from the high circle with one of his famous wristers, and we never looked back (though Brett Hull cranked one off the post). Iginla scored another, then Joe Sakic finished it off.
Afterward, American Jeremy Roenick gave one of the classiest post-game interviews in the history of the game. Even though the two teams were bitter rivals, and had fought hard, he tipped his hat to the Canadians and generously conceded that the better team won. But he made a more important point as well. He called the two teams possibly the best collection of players ever to be on one sheet of ice, and that he was just proud to be a part of a game like that. I felt exactly the same way.
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