NHL postseason marathon is the most exciting time of year
By Aaron Juarez
I, and most likely only a few dozen others at Santa Clara already know this, but for the rest of you not paying attention, the best two months of the year kicked off yesterday just after 4 p.m. That's when the pucks were dropped in Boston and Detroit, signaling the beginning of the NHL Stanley Cup playoffs.
During the 82-game regular season, the urgency level is rather low and a star player or goaltender will get a rest every now and then. But in the playoffs, there is no chance to rest. Come playoff time, hockey players fight through injuries that would leave the common person bedridden. Seriously, for fun during the playoffs, read the official "injury" reports of each team after a few games.
In 2000, then-Sharks captain Owen Nolan was mysteriously ineffective in game one of a second-round series against the Dallas Stars. Many speculated that Nolan suffered a foot injury against St. Louis in the first round, or blamed his recurring shoulder problems, but the Sharks innocently listed Nolan on the injury report as suffering from "flu-like symptoms." After San Jose was eliminated, it was revealed that Nolan had suffered a pulled abdominal muscle.
In a physically taxing sport such as hockey, revealing an injury is like placing a target on the injured spot and inviting opposing players to whale away on it during a mix-up along the boards. Consequently, the NHL's lax rules on reporting injuries are fully taken advantage of, adding an intriguing cloak-and-dagger element to the playoffs.
Another engaging aspect is the near-absence of the reckless violence which has been a target for hockey critics. Especially after Todd Bertuzzi's brutal assault of Colorado's Steve Moore last month, critics have lambasted the league for condoning fighting and premeditated violence. The fighting and vigilantism virtually disappear from the playoffs, although the physicality is ratcheted up a notch.
But playoff physicality is wholly different than that of fighting and dealing out cheap shots. Ã Enforcers see less time on the ice as coaches are far less willing to risk the five-minute penalties for fighting.
With the decrease in brutish violence, playoff games become desperate and thoroughly engaging melodramas. Still, in the context of every playoff series, the games are only part of the sum of the whole, inspiring emotions comparable to those felt from the monologues and soliloquies of a classic Shakespearean play.
After reading or seeing performed, say, any monologue or soliloquy from "Othello," Hamlet's "To be or not to be," or Henry V's "Band of Brothers," any person with feeling would get chills and feel a swirling, titillating sense of fear, tension, hope and tragedy, among other things.
So it is with the Stanley Cup playoffs. Watching players leave everything on the ice in a dramatic and exhilarating pursuit of victory spurs a litany of emotion. Emotions brought on by moments like Jamie Baker scoring the series-winning goal for the Sharks against the Red Wings in 1994 and the desperate struggle to preserve that lead in the final 6:35, making San Jose the first No. 8 seed to upset a top seed in NHL postseason history. Or J.S. Giguere last year, who practically willed the Mighty Ducks to the Stanley Cup Finals with his magnificent goaltending, most notably in a second-round game one win over the Stars. Giguere made 60 saves in that nerve-fraying contest, battling his way through seven full periods of hockey before Petr Sykora ended it with a goal 38 seconds into the fifth overtime. Ã
That's the joy and grief of playoff hockey. It takes you through twists and turns, exploiting every emotion a person can feel in the span of one game, then abruptly delivers the final strike. The next two months should be no different.
û Contact Aaron Juarez at (408) 554-4852 or ajuarez@scu.edu.