From the Denver Post on Sunday... If your a fan of the game give this a read...
Avs hear words of wisdom
Stars' speeches may be title talk
By Mark Kiszla
Denver Post Sports Columnist
Sunday, May 20, 2001 - ST. LOUIS - With 20 angry Avalanche players wedged inside, the room is so cramped it feels like a cage. The walls stink with stale perspiration. Everybody breathes the same air, ripe with tension. In the NHL, the ideal visitors locker room is a cell by design, no more than 30 feet deep and so narrow everyone's spine is pressed against the wall in discomfort.
But it was here, in the sticky confines of the Colorado dressing room, where a team in trouble found courage it wasn't sure existed.
Hockey is played on the ice. But, sometimes, a champion is born behind closed doors.
If the Avalanche wins the Stanley Cup, the champagne won't taste any sweeter than all the courage that Colorado center Stephane Yelle and his teammates discovered on a Friday night in May, when to defeat St. Louis, they first had to beat their own worst fears.
In overtime, with nothing less than everything Colorado had talked about all season at stake, Yelle scored to give the Avs a 4-3 victory that restored order in a Western Conference finals threatening to slip from their control.
During the 15 short minutes of rest between the end of the third period and overtime, the Avs found themselves. In the cramped locker room, there was a Summit of Stars. The team talked from the heart. The speeches were like something from a movie script, only so real the words reached deep inside every Avalanche player and filled everyone with previously untapped strength.
"There were a couple guys in the room who stepped up," Colorado defenseman Rob Blake said. "Your season and your chance to win in the playoffs basically come down to just a couple opportunities, and you can't let those rare opportunities go bad."
The Avs were in grave danger, and they knew it. Having laid to waste every ounce of a three-goal advantage built early in Game 4, Colorado was suddenly losing all the mind games to the Blues.
A best-of-seven series the Avalanche had dominated early was suddenly no more than a single Blues goal from going back to Denver tied at two games apiece. Self-doubt was stalking Colorado, and when a championship dream unexpectedly gets caught in your throat, anyone can choke.
So the Avs called a Summit of Stars. One by one, the veterans on the team, the guys with the most at stake, spoke up. Their exact identities remain a closely guarded secret, in keeping with the hockey code that insists what's said in the room stays in the room. But, as Blake was willing to admit, all the speakers were millionaires. Their words were pure gold.
"It was the guys who have been around here awhile," Blake said. "They understood how much this game meant to this team and our hopes of the Stanley Cup. This was a huge, huge game. When you have a 3-0 lead and that vanishes on you, you better make sure you get that win somehow."
So there could be no misinterpretation, the message from the council of Colorado stars was to the point and never deviated: Don't let doubt win. Keep the faith. Nobody with a fear of falling ever reaches the top.
"Keep going," said Colorado veteran Dave Reid, recalling the sermons that stoked the Avs with emotion. "There wasn't really any nervousness. Guys were ticked at themselves. But you didn't see any panic."
In title, Bob Hartley coaches this team. But, with so many future Hall of Famers wearing Avalanche sweaters, the power and leadership must be vested in the players themselves.
There is Ray Bourque, his chestnut beard dabbled by gray after waiting 22 pro seasons to finally claim the Cup, and now constantly wearing a cap emblazoned with a personal mission of "16W," which stands for the number of playoff wins required of Colorado to be champions.
There is Patrick Roy, whose 35-year-old blue eyes still emit such hot sparks of passion that it can unnerve even coaches and teammates who know him well.
There is Joe Sakic, who isn't playing for a rich, free-agent contract ensuring his grandchildren will be set for life, so much as he is trying to secure his place in NHL history as an athlete forever remembered for playing big under pressure.
None of those Colorado stars, however, want the Cup any more than Reid, who realizes this is probably his last spring to feel like a champ again, or Yelle, a relentless grinder forced to live with his own personal demons for nearly 48 hours after firing a dud on a point-blank shot that could have and should have beaten the Blues in overtime of Game 3.
All those powerful emotions bubbled inside these Avs during the impromptu Summit of Stars late on a Friday night in St. Louis.
"And those emotions were spoken," Reid said. "Most times, the talk during an intermission is technical. Sometimes, it's just a wake-up call. But this was definitely more emotional. And, when we left that room, it was one of those moments. You could feel the strength."
When it would have been easier to obsess with how much Colorado had to lose, the Avalanche sat down together in a tiny locker room, looked in the eyes of teammates, and saw passion so strong it was scary.
This is powerful stuff the Avs have discovered. No fear. No surrender. No doubt.
Avs hear words of wisdom
Stars' speeches may be title talk
By Mark Kiszla
Denver Post Sports Columnist
Sunday, May 20, 2001 - ST. LOUIS - With 20 angry Avalanche players wedged inside, the room is so cramped it feels like a cage. The walls stink with stale perspiration. Everybody breathes the same air, ripe with tension. In the NHL, the ideal visitors locker room is a cell by design, no more than 30 feet deep and so narrow everyone's spine is pressed against the wall in discomfort.
But it was here, in the sticky confines of the Colorado dressing room, where a team in trouble found courage it wasn't sure existed.
Hockey is played on the ice. But, sometimes, a champion is born behind closed doors.
If the Avalanche wins the Stanley Cup, the champagne won't taste any sweeter than all the courage that Colorado center Stephane Yelle and his teammates discovered on a Friday night in May, when to defeat St. Louis, they first had to beat their own worst fears.
In overtime, with nothing less than everything Colorado had talked about all season at stake, Yelle scored to give the Avs a 4-3 victory that restored order in a Western Conference finals threatening to slip from their control.
During the 15 short minutes of rest between the end of the third period and overtime, the Avs found themselves. In the cramped locker room, there was a Summit of Stars. The team talked from the heart. The speeches were like something from a movie script, only so real the words reached deep inside every Avalanche player and filled everyone with previously untapped strength.
"There were a couple guys in the room who stepped up," Colorado defenseman Rob Blake said. "Your season and your chance to win in the playoffs basically come down to just a couple opportunities, and you can't let those rare opportunities go bad."
The Avs were in grave danger, and they knew it. Having laid to waste every ounce of a three-goal advantage built early in Game 4, Colorado was suddenly losing all the mind games to the Blues.
A best-of-seven series the Avalanche had dominated early was suddenly no more than a single Blues goal from going back to Denver tied at two games apiece. Self-doubt was stalking Colorado, and when a championship dream unexpectedly gets caught in your throat, anyone can choke.
So the Avs called a Summit of Stars. One by one, the veterans on the team, the guys with the most at stake, spoke up. Their exact identities remain a closely guarded secret, in keeping with the hockey code that insists what's said in the room stays in the room. But, as Blake was willing to admit, all the speakers were millionaires. Their words were pure gold.
"It was the guys who have been around here awhile," Blake said. "They understood how much this game meant to this team and our hopes of the Stanley Cup. This was a huge, huge game. When you have a 3-0 lead and that vanishes on you, you better make sure you get that win somehow."
So there could be no misinterpretation, the message from the council of Colorado stars was to the point and never deviated: Don't let doubt win. Keep the faith. Nobody with a fear of falling ever reaches the top.
"Keep going," said Colorado veteran Dave Reid, recalling the sermons that stoked the Avs with emotion. "There wasn't really any nervousness. Guys were ticked at themselves. But you didn't see any panic."
In title, Bob Hartley coaches this team. But, with so many future Hall of Famers wearing Avalanche sweaters, the power and leadership must be vested in the players themselves.
There is Ray Bourque, his chestnut beard dabbled by gray after waiting 22 pro seasons to finally claim the Cup, and now constantly wearing a cap emblazoned with a personal mission of "16W," which stands for the number of playoff wins required of Colorado to be champions.
There is Patrick Roy, whose 35-year-old blue eyes still emit such hot sparks of passion that it can unnerve even coaches and teammates who know him well.
There is Joe Sakic, who isn't playing for a rich, free-agent contract ensuring his grandchildren will be set for life, so much as he is trying to secure his place in NHL history as an athlete forever remembered for playing big under pressure.
None of those Colorado stars, however, want the Cup any more than Reid, who realizes this is probably his last spring to feel like a champ again, or Yelle, a relentless grinder forced to live with his own personal demons for nearly 48 hours after firing a dud on a point-blank shot that could have and should have beaten the Blues in overtime of Game 3.
All those powerful emotions bubbled inside these Avs during the impromptu Summit of Stars late on a Friday night in St. Louis.
"And those emotions were spoken," Reid said. "Most times, the talk during an intermission is technical. Sometimes, it's just a wake-up call. But this was definitely more emotional. And, when we left that room, it was one of those moments. You could feel the strength."
When it would have been easier to obsess with how much Colorado had to lose, the Avalanche sat down together in a tiny locker room, looked in the eyes of teammates, and saw passion so strong it was scary.
This is powerful stuff the Avs have discovered. No fear. No surrender. No doubt.
