Dream Teams aren’t reserved solely for the Olympics, or for basketball.
Here come the New York Rangers, across the blue line, yearning and burning to skate their way into New York’s heart, possibly forever.
Sometimes these Dream Teams are easy to spot, sometimes they’re not. Sometimes they come out of nowhere to capture the imagination of a city that loves winners like no other.
Here come the New York Rangers, the Boys of Spring, 20 years after Mark Messier, chipping-and-chasing another Miracle on Ice.
Here come the Blueshirts, a team of teams with more Broadway Joes than All-Pros, so anticipating their seventh Man to electrify the Garden with an unspoken Bienvenue Dans Le Jardin (Welcome to the Garden) for the Montreal Canadiens in Game 3 Thursday night.
“Having fan support is obviously huge at this time of the year,” Alain Vigneault said. “Unconditional love is something that I think can be beneficial to a team. I mean it’s so demanding on the ice. They can really help you energy-wise. It’s a fun time. I’m sure it’s fun for them, and it’s definitely fun for us.”
Here come the Broadway Blues, awakening the echoes of another generation, hardly the 1986 New York Giants and hardly the ’86 Mets or ’98 Yankees, taking New York on the kind of magic carpet ride given us by the ’69 Mets, the Super Bowl III Jets, the Super Bowl XXV and XLII Giants.
They come back to the Garden leading the Eastern Conference finals 2-0 Canada, and this is why:
It’s first and foremost star goaltender Henrik Lundqvist, the chic, stylish Swede, thirstier than he has ever been to drink from Lord Stanley’s Cup for the first time, his impact on these playoffs and on this town a 10 on the Richter Scale (not unlike it was for goalie Mike Richter in 1994).
It’s King Henrik, kick saving heartbreak away, finally, saving a legacy of greatness at last.
“He’s in a zone,” Vigneault said.
It’s the emotional strength and mental toughness of Martin St. Louis, the tiny Ranger with the heart the size of the Empire State Building, and how much he means to teammates who have grown to embrace him following his arrival in the trade for former captain Ryan Callahan.
It’s the maturation and brilliance of Ryan McDonagh, who may yet endear himself to Rangers fans the way Brian Leetch did once upon a Stanley Cup.
It’s a streetcar named Chris Kreider, an awe-inspiring package of speed, power and youthful exuberance whose return from a broken hand has meant the world.
It’s the leadership and savvy of Brad Richards, who has rendered reports of his demise to be greatly exaggerated.
It’s the support and encouragement given Rick Nash by teammates who knew he was too good not to shake that playoff monkey off his back.
It’s the lightning speed of Carl Hagelin and it’s a throwback rock named Dan Girardi and it’s the resilience of Marc Staal, all the way back from a concussion nightmare, all the way back from a puck-in-the-eye nightmare.
It’s the vision of Derek Stepan and the penalty-killing of Big, Bad Brian Boyle.
It’s the calming hand of Vigneault, the right coach at the right time fostering the right environment following the ham-fisted reign of John Tortorella.
It’s every single one of them, making for a blue-collar team for a blue-collar town.
Here come the New York Rangers.