LOS ANGELES — Adam Graves was standing at the very top of Madison Square Garden a few months ago, high enough where it felt like he could reach out and touch the pinwheel roof, high enough he was practically eye level with a sight that always manages to make him take pause.
“Look at that,” he said, “will you?”
It was his number, 9, which hangs in the Garden’s rafters alongside the team’s other forever 9, Andy Bathgate, and the six other numbers that have been retired from circulation. Graves shook his head and quite literally had to compose himself because it is a thing that, quite literally, takes his breath away.
“I see that, and I see the other names,” Graves said that day, with a smile that damn near melted the ice four stories below, “and I ask myself: what are YOU doing up there?”
It is quite simple, of course: 20 years ago Graves and three other names and numbers flanking him in the ceiling from his blue crew — Mark Messier’s 11, Brian Leetch’s 2 and Mike Richter’s 35 — won a Stanley Cup championship, outlasted the Vancouver Canucks in a gritty seven-game series, delivered generations of Rangers fans to the mountaintop…
And have been celebrating ever since.
Been celebrated ever since.
“It goes without saying that not a day goes by without somebody telling me how much that Cup meant to them,” Graves said. “But I’m not lying when I tell you that rarely a few HOURS go by without someone wanting to share that. It’s incredible, how much that means. And still means.”
Ours is a demanding town. Ours is an exacting town. We boo you when you strike out, and we kill you when you throw an interception. We are quick to fire you when we think you’ve lost your team, quicker to exile you when we think you’ve lost a step. Maybe it shouldn’t be that way. Tough. It IS that way. Babe Ruth was booed. Joe DiMaggio was booed. Phil Simms was booed. Clyde Frazier was booed.
But here’s the thing: we are also a town that will embrace you forever if once, just once, you prove yourself equal to our expectation. You win a championship? It doesn’t matter if you’re a star (Joe Namath, Eli Manning, Tom Seaver, Willis Reed) or a sub (Phil McConkey, Art Shamsky, Mike Riordan, Brian Doyle), you’ll never buy a beer in this town again, never buy a meal with your own money, and never walk more than two blocks without the love of a grateful city parting your path.
“Winning here isn’t like winning anywhere else,” said Reggie Jackson, who knew about winning like few athletes do. “It’s amazing, times a thousand.”
So that is what awaits these 2014 Rangers, if only they can win four games across the next 14 days in any combination, using as much or as little of this Stanley Cup final as necessary. For now, for many, these are just anonymous names found mostly in agate type — Moore, Zuccarello, Richards, Girardi, Boyle — with a few bold-faced names — ST. LOUIS! LUNDQVIST! — sprinkled in.
Get those four wins, though?
“Your legacy,” Graves said, “is written in concrete.”
Or in cloth. Graves was a terrific player, and he scored 52 goals for those ’94 Rangers; Vic Hadfield was essentially the same player. Brad Park (Hall of Famer, 14 All-Star games) had essentially the same career as Brian Leetch (Hall of Famer, 15 All-Star games, two Norris Trophies — without Bobby Orr perennially in the way, as Park had).
But Hadfield doesn’t share 11 in those eternal rafters, and Park doesn’t share 2 with Leetch. Why? Because unlike those ’94 Rangers, the ’72 club that captured so many imaginations and spawned so many hockey fans couldn’t seize on its one chance at the Cup, falling two games shy against the Bruins.
Make no mistake, that ’72 team and those players are still warmly received when they come back to the Garden, same as the ’79 team is. They are still cornerstones of the Rangers’ history book. But there IS a difference. Yes, ours is a demanding town. But you give us a reason to love you, we can become Tuscaloosa in a big hurry.
And we stay that way forever.