Chapter 60: A Stanley Cup Playoff Game

April 5, 1991, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

“Hi Tara! Hi Marie! It’s good to see you again,” I said when Mario, Ned, and I arrived at the Pittsburgh Civic Arena, known affectionately as ‘The Igloo’.

Tara gave me a quick hug, and I nodded to Marie. She and Mario kissed, and then Mario introduced the women to Ned. He produced five tickets, which we presented to the ticket-taker at the gate. We followed the signs to section W2, and an usher showed us to our seats in the second to last row, almost directly in line with the blue line.

“Nice jersey!” Tara observed.

I smiled and nodded; I had put on my Penguins jersey after we’d left the restaurant.

“Fantastic seats!” I said as we sat down.

“For what you paid? I should hope so!” Mario said quietly.

Marie was sitting on the aisle, then Mario, Ned, then me, and finally Tara. Mario and I had discussed the seating in advance and felt it was best if Ned was between us, so we could both talk with him. Mario and Marie offered to get beers and snacks. Everyone else took them up on a beer, but I asked for a Coke, because I was not a big fan of beer. I’d drink it, but I strongly preferred my alcohol distilled rather then simply fermented. Mario and Marie were back with the drinks and two large plates of nachos just as the national anthem was starting.

Much to my displeasure, the Devils got on the board less than three minutes into the game when John MacLean blasted a slap shot past Barrasso. I felt better when the Penguins tied things up about four minutes later. They were on a powerplay and Kevin Stevens tapped in a rebound of a shot by Mark Recchi. That was how the first period ended, and Mario went to get two more beers - one for him, and one for Ned.

“It looks like it’s going to be a close game,” Tara commented.

She hadn’t said much during the first period, though we had carried on a bit of light conversation while we had watched the action on the ice.

“I’d prefer a blowout,” I replied, “10-0 would be just fine with me! But I’ll take 2-1, as long as it’s the Penguins who win. They really can’t afford to drop both games at home.”

“Mario said you’re only in town for the night.”

“That’s right,” I said, being careful not to say anything that might give Ned pause.

“Will you come back if they make the next round?”

“Maybe. Tickets will be even harder to come by, and even more expensive. I’d love to eventually see a Stanley Cup game, but those tickets would be way out of the range of what I’m willing to pay. About the only way that will happen is if the Pens play the Hawks. The firm a lawyer friend of mine in Chicago works for has access to a box at Chicago Stadium, and he promised to get me in if the Penguins and Hawks both make it.”

“That would be totally cool!” she said. “But if not, you’ll watch on TV?”

“I don’t see any other real possibility, unless you know someone here with a box that could get me in.”

“I might,” Ned interjected. “Let me make a phone call tomorrow. A friend of mine works for a firm that represents Ed DeBartolo in his non-sports interests. He owes me a favor.”

“I’d really appreciate that,” I said, instantly recognizing the name of the main owner of the Penguins.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

As Don Joseph had pointed out to me years ago, developing good relationships was the key to success in business. And this one might pay off with seats at a Stanley Cup final game, assuming the Penguins could get that far. The only thing I could see conflicting was that our trip to the UP was scheduled for May 25, and it was possible that the finals would still be underway, depending on how long each preceding series went.

The Devils opened second period scoring less than two minutes in, on MacLean’s second goal of the night. For the next several minutes there was up-and-down action until matching penalties created a 4-on-4 situation, and at 10:32 of the second period, Paul Coffey scored off a pass from Lemieux, tying the game at 2-2.

Unfortunately, it didn’t stay that way long, as about two minutes later, Brendan Shanahan fought off the Penguins defense and scored, giving New Jersey a 3-2 lead.

“Damn it!” I hissed. “They have to play better ‘D’!”

“Two of the three goals have been because of weak defense,” Ned said. “That first slapper was just a good shot that Barrasso wasn’t able to fight off.”

“That’s been the story for a good chunk of the season,” I said. “It’s not like the Pens don’t score. They just give up too many themselves.”

“Barrasso is pretty good,” Mario said. “But if your defensemen aren’t up to snuff, you’re going to get beat no matter how good you are.”

“True,” I agreed.

About four minutes later, I was on my feet with the rest of the crowd as Phil Bourque scored after a beautiful pass from Bryan Trottier on a two-on-one break. The second period ended with the score tied 3-3. Mario offered to get another round of drinks, but everyone declined, though Ned excused himself to head for the men’s room.

“One more period,” I said. “They keep having to get comeback goals. They need to score the next one and then hold the Devils.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Tara said in a lilting voice.

I chuckled, “Have you ever listened to sports announcers? For the most part, their job is to state the blindingly obvious in new and interesting ways. Mostly they fail. It’s like player interviews where the guy says that he’s there to help the team, or the coach’s interview where he says they’re going to take it one game at a time.”

“Like in Bull Durham!” Tara laughed. “When Crash is talking to ‘Nuke’.”

“Exactly. Lemieux’s been relatively quiet tonight, too. And so has Jágr. One of those guys needs to light the lamp! You know, I haven’t asked, how is school going?”

“It’s OK. I get decent grades, but it’s a lot of work. I’ll be happy to finish my Freshman year.”

“Any idea what you want to major in?”

“No. I have until midway through the second semester of next year to declare. Engineering is under serious consideration, but maybe poly sci as pre-law.”

“You want to be an attorney?” Ned said, coming back to his seat. “Run! Run away!”

“Oh come on, it’s not THAT bad,” I said.

“So long as you don’t mind going blind on paperwork, it’s a wonderful profession! What they show on TV just doesn’t exist.”

“Isn’t that true of TV in general?” I asked. “I’ve watched L.A. Law and my attorney friends just laugh at it. My wife is an ER doc and she rolls her eyes all the time at TV portrayals of emergency rooms and hospitals in general. Even my friend Melanie, who’s a criminal defense lawyer, spends most of her time reading and writing, not making ‘Perry Mason style’ arguments in court!”

“Nobody makes ‘Perry Mason style’ arguments in court,” Ned laughed. “People just do not confess on the stand due to the sheer brilliance of an argument! Nobody would watch a TV show about lawyers and courtrooms that was true to life! And if my firm had half the drama of McKenzie, Brackman, it would have self-destructed years ago!”

“L.A. Law is a bit over the top!” I chuckled. “Though I had a great laugh when Rosalind Shays stepped into the elevator only to find the elevator not there!”

“You laughed?” Marie asked.

“I hated her character on Star Trek: The Next Generation with such passion that seeing her fall down an elevator shaft and die made my day!”

“Remind me not to be near an elevator with you!” Ned said, but he was laughing.

The players came back to the ice for the third period, and just three-and-a-half minutes in, Troy Loney picked up a loose puck in front of the net and pushed it past Chris Terreri to give the Penguins their first lead. The entire arena erupted into near bedlam, and I felt pretty good about the Penguins chances.

“See, there you go! You said it, and it happened!” Tara laughed.

“Yes, but now they have to hold this lead.”

Which they did for a whopping 45 seconds. Alexei Kasatonov took a pass from Laurie Boschman and one-timed it past Barrasso.

“Shit!” I swore. “That didn’t last long.”

“So much for holding the lead,” Mario sighed.

Neither team scored during the remaining time in the third period, which sent the game to overtime.

“Sudden death,” I said. “And if the Pens lose, that’s not far off reality.”

“There you go being all negative again,” Mario said.

“Always with the negative waves Moriarty, always with the negative waves!,” I chuckled.

“You’re obviously quoting something,” Ned said.

“A World War II Drama/Comedy called Kelly’s Heroes. It has Clint Eastwood, Donald Sutherland, Telly Savalas, Carroll O’Connor, Don Rickles, and Gavin McLeod. I highly recommend it.”

“What’s the premise?”

“A platoon discovers a huge stash of Nazi gold is being held in a bank, and orchestrates a breakthrough in the lines to get the gold and make off to Switzerland.”

“I assume it’s out on videotape?”

“It is,” I said.

All of us made trips to the restrooms and were back just before the players returned to the ice for overtime.

There were a number of chances for both teams until with eight-and-a-half minutes elapsed, Jaromír Jágr got the puck and skated up the right wing. He was hooked, but no penalty was called. The Devils defensemen did their best to block him, but he managed so skate free and across the crease. Terreri committed and Jágr simply flipped the puck over the sprawling goalie to score the winning goal. 18,000 fans joined me as I leapt to my feet and screamed deliriously.

I high-fived Ned and Mario, and Tara hugged me. I high-fived several other fans in front of and behind us, and continued cheering until the players finally left the ice.

“Feel better?” Mario asked as we filed out of our seats onto the steps to follow the crowd out of the stadium.

“Absolutely! It looks like it’s going to be a hard-fought series that goes seven games. I hope my heart can take it!”

Mario laughed, “According to Cindi, you’re the healthiest person on the planet! You passed all those tests with flying colors.”

“What tests?” Tara asked.

“I’ve had these odd bouts of syncope, that’s fainting in layman’s terms, which nobody has been able to diagnose. They happen when I get shocking news. But there’s nothing medical that anyone can find. I had two days’ worth of tests at UofC, with the top doctors there all trying to figure out what it was. Their theory is that it’s just how my brain is wired to deal with extreme stress.”

“Extreme stress? Like what?”

“My girlfriend dying in an accident when I was fifteen. One of my closest friends being murdered. The funeral of another very, very close friend who died of cancer. That kind of thing.”

“You’re not pulling my leg? You really had all those people die? You’re not even thirty yet!”

“I’m not pulling your leg,” I said. “There have been other instances as well.”

“But you’re healthy?” Ned asked, sounding a bit concerned.

“I run at least three miles a day, usually about five, and have for years. Before that I swam. I practice karate four to six days a week. I rarely eat sweets and seriously limit the amount of soda I drink. All the medical tests showed that I’m in perfect physical health. The brain scan was completely normal. Well, my sister said it was a medical miracle because it showed no brain matter, but that’s a little sister for you!”

The other four laughed.

“I guess if you have a friend who’s the head of Emergency Medicine and he cleared you, you must be in good health. Not to sound impertinent or morbid, do you have a business continuity plan in place?”

“I do. If you’re concerned, I’ll have our corporate attorney send you a summary of the plan and the related insurance. We’ve done that for a couple of larger law firms before they signed up.”

He shook his head, “I don’t need to see it, so long as you’ve done it. Do you also have source code escrow set up in case something was to cause NIKA to go out of business?”

I nodded, “Yes. We set that up last year. In the extremely unlikely event that would happen, your software license entitles you to a complete copy of the fully-documented source code. I’m surprised you didn’t know that, because it’s in the contract addenda.”

Ned laughed, “I’m not a contracts guy. I have people for that! I handle tax law. I’m sure Toby Ryan, who heads up our contract law group, read them and is aware.”

We reached the outside of the stadium and I shook hands with Ned.

“It was great to meet you, and I hope you enjoyed the game,” I said.

“I did! Like you, I was about to have a heart attack during the OT when the Devils got so many shots! Fortunately, the kid, Jágr, put one home. I’ll let you know what I find out about the Finals.”

“They have to get there, first!” I said.

“True, but being proactive is a good thing. I’ll make the call in the morning.”

“Thanks again,” I said.

Ned shook my hand again, then shook Mario’s, and walked towards the parking lot. We started walking towards the office as Mario had left his car in the parking garage. The hotel was basically on the way, though one street over from where they’d walk to the parking garage.

“Do you want to stop for a drink?” Mario asked. “There’s a bar near the office we go to sometimes. Now that the game is over, it should be somewhat cleared out.”

“I’d like to,” I said. “But I have to be up at 5:30am to get to the airport for my early flight.”

“I understand,” Mario said.

We reached the corner where they’d continue to Mario’s car and I would turn to go to the hotel. Mario and I shook hands, and Marie and I exchanged a polite, perfunctory hug. Tara hugged me fairly tightly.

“What some company?” she whispered in my ear.

I was a bit surprised at the offer, because there hadn’t been any indication all night that she was still interested. That said, if she had been circumspect about it because of Ned, that kind of discretion was exactly what I felt was necessary in a situation like this. My only concern was Marie, and what she might say or do, but ultimately, that was between the sisters. Mario might have to deal with it, but given how he’d handled it before, I didn’t see that as an issue, especially given our conversation on the topic.