The Greatest Hockey Story For People Who Don’t Know Many Hockey Stories
In 1995, when Chicago’s Frank Thomas was at the height of his powers as a premiere slugger, I stayed late after the game in hopes of catching him (or anyone on the White Sox roster, really) as they shuffled into their sports cars and sport utility vehicles. I didn’t have a watch, but it felt like the few dozens waiting outside the personnel parking lot were there for an hour. Finally, a few began trickling out. They’d sign a few autographs or, at the very least, wave to the group that had been waiting.
Eventually, the Big Hurt lumbered out to his Porsche (or Ferrari or Lamborghini. I can’t be sure. I’m not a car guy. It looked fast and expensive). He didn’t immediately acknowledge the crowd, instead he took out a few supplies from his trunk in order to wax his fast, expensive car. And there he stood, waxing his car, while a few dozen fans called out to him. An autograph, a point, a wave. A smile. Something.
Everyone waited. Certainly he’d come over after he finished with his car maintenance, right? Again, no watch, but it took him 20 minutes if it took him a second. And when he was done, he returned the products to his trunk and without ever looking at anyone who had waited for the best hitter on the planet at that time to say hello, he got into his car and drove off.
If I’d had eggs on me, I’d have unloaded every last one on that man’s car.
In the hour or so I stood there, Frank Thomas went from one of the most likable players in the league to one I’d never ever forgive.
But that’s not a hockey story and the headline of this post promised the greatest hockey story of all-time.
In an interview on NHL commissioner Gary Bettmen’s satellite radio show last week, newly retired, 8-time all-star Brendan Shanahan told a story about growing up a Toronto Maple Leafs fan in the early 80s and getting a chance to meet the team’s captain at the time Rick Vaive.
Shanahan recounted the story again for nj.com:
“When I was 14 years old I was skating in the summertime at a rink in Toronto. Rick Vaive happened to be skating at an adjoining rink and we were actually in dressing rooms that were right next to each other. I went in when he was sort of settled and asked him for an autograph. I didn’t get the best response from [him] at that time.”
Sadly, Shanahan doesn’t elaborate on what not getting the best response from Rick Vaive meant, but it’s causing me to have immediate traumatic flashbacks to shammies and containers of Turtlewax.
In ’83, Shanahan was 14 years old. By 1987, he was an 18-year-old rookie playing with the New Jersey Devils. And it would be the next time he’d run into his former icon.
“It was a quiet, uneventful game. He couldn’t believe the rage I had, not only in attacking him, but it took two (linesmen) to restrain me afterwards and throw me in the penalty box. He said to one of my teammates at the time, Jim Korn, ‘By the way, what’s wrong with that kid and why was he coming after me?’ Jim Korn said, ‘Apparently he asked you for an autograph when he was a little kid and you weren’t that friendly to him.’ ”
I’m not sure where to start with the awesomeness of this story. Perhaps Vaive had a good reason for not giving Shanahan the best impression. Honestly, I have no reason to think Vaive is jerk in everyday life. But it’s easy for me to believe he was a jerk to Shanahan in that one instance 26 years ago. And for that, and for any fan who has ever asked a celebrity for something small like an autograph only to be rejected, this story is as heartwarming as a glass of eggnog.
It’s also kinda great because Shanahan clearly ended up being the better player of the two, enough so that it allowed the capper on this story to happen.
“Three years ago, [Vaive] came up to me at the Air Canada Centre in Toronto and introduced me to his 14-year-old son. I signed the autograph, took a picture and gave him a piggy-back. I didn’t want karma to come back and get me.”
Good for Shanahan, but if Frank Thomas ever asks me for anything, I fully intend to ignore him while buffing out the scratches on my Hyundai.
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Photos courtesy of Flickr
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