Looks like today is “fake retiring day” First we have reports all over the place about Brett Favre’s 2,349,897th fake retirement, now we have a guy who just retired at the end of this past hockey season, now deciding he wants to come back. And that’s a shame because we already put a nice, complete bow on his career a few months ago:
The man of the evening of this season finale was a man who has never played for the Minnesota Wild franchise, but has more to do with hockey history in the State of Hockey than the Wild have had in their entire decade of existence. Mike Modano skated in his final game before retiring, the rare professional in this day and age who played his entire career with one organization. He is the highest scoring American born player in the NHL, and possibly the greatest American skater ever.
By Bryan Vickroy
His career was different though. The #1 overall pick in 1988, brought to a hockey mad culture with the Minnesota North Stars, Modano displayed the offensive touch worthy of the exalted #1 pick status. The wunderkid delivered immediately, and the North Stars Legacy climaxed in 1991 with a Stanley Cup Finals run where they lost to the juggernaut Pittsburgh Penguins. However, the honeymoon ended soon as the Met Center was deemed unplayable by owner Norm Green and the team skipped town to Dallas in 1993. This move itself changed the way franchises operated through the 90’s, and in itself is discussion worthy.
He continued producing in Dallas, becoming a consistent All Star, and helping root the sport of hockey into the absurd spot of Texas. He scored, starred, and brought possibly the most infamous Stanley Cup in history to the now Stars in 1999. He racked up three Cup Finals appearances, and brought about an age limit for the Calder Trophy (rookie of the year). He finishes up with goals, assists, and points, all American player records.
Besides a stellar NHL career, he also served a vital role in both the huge successes and magnificent failures of the resurgent USA Hockey team after professionals were allowed to play in the Olympics, and the introduction of the World Cup of Hockey. He centered the championship Team USA in the inaugural WCoH in 1996, stunning the Canadians in the final series to take the gold. He also played in the 2002 Salt Lake Olympics, earning silver against the same Canadians. He also, unfortunately, was part of the infamous 1998 Nagano team that trashed their hotel rooms with fire extinguishers, and failed to advance from round robin play.
The great Peter Christian asked me post game why I had so much hate for Captain America Mike. I pawned it off on drunkenness and hockey depression, but I realized it was much deeper. To me, Mike Modano represented the start of a terrible era in hockey, and in sports for that matter.
He was the poster child, literally, of franchise relocation. Teams from great cities and fan bases, heading to greener pastures, larger luxury boxes, more dollars, but fewer fans. He was always questioned as being too soft, or even of protecting his pretty looks at all times. A cameo in Mighty Ducks and shirtless magazine covers, almost “A Rod-esque.”
The fact that the top American player was ripped out of the top hockey market in the world, for the sake of arenas and expanding demographics, always stuck with me and to Mike Modano for that matter. For the hockey purists, perhaps I’m one of them, he could never quite do enough to fully reach the expectations. His talent was wasted in half empty arenas in tropical locales, the failed experiment of the NHL to capture the nation as a big time sport. Modano could possibly be affected by the backlash more than any other in sports. The greatest offensive threat in this country’s history, the statistical equivalent of Jordan, Jerry Rice, or (good or bad) Barry Bonds, his retirement is rendered to a side note in today’s sports pages.
Yet I still can’t find myself to forgive him for the transgressions of the Dallas escape, even if he had no say in the situation. I can despise the man, but I sure as hell respect the game.
So maybe my hatred isn’t so much with the myth and legend of Mike Modano, but the ghost of what could have been. The All American Man, donning the sweater of yore, giving a glimpse of how the last two decades had been wiped from the banks of the Mississippi. A man skates off to greatness and glory, while a franchise flounders to find its new identity, with the prospects a bit more gloomy than those shiny, fantastic pearly whites of Mike Modano.
Bryan Vickroy is not dead, and does remember how to write still. He is a hockey intellectual, and can be followed on twitter at www.twitter.com/bryanvickroy/ Look out for his guide to the greatest time of the year, the NHL playoffs, in the next couple days.
