Bruce McNall's rise and plummet as owner of the L.A. Kings is touched upon in Bruce Dowbiggin's Moneyplayers. Mike Powell/Getty Images

Let me begin by saying that the whole notion of 'last minute' here has nothing to do with the coincidentally similar notion/strategy/reality of the NHL labor negotiations between the league and the Players' Association. It has everything to do, however, with final gift ideas for the forlorn and forsaken NHL fan on your shopping list, who instead of experiencing the game would be inclined to read about it from a few diverse and interesting perspectives.

To that end, I offer up three vastly different books (a major tip off as to what this displaced hockey analyst has been doing with his inordinate amount of extra time). If these offerings share anything in common beyond being non-fiction, it has to do with historical hockey perspective. Unfortunately, as enjoyable as I found all three of them to be in their own right, none are predictive regarding the future of today's NHL.

Anyway, here are three great reads for the hockey fan on your holiday list.

Happy Holidays to all.

Moneyplayers: By Bruce Dowbiggin

This is a must read for the hockey fan that wants to know how the NHL got to this point from a labor standpoint. Published in 2003 by McClelland & Stewart Ltd. (www.mcclelland.com), Moneyplayers takes the reader through changes the league went through in the 1990's -- some well thought out and positive and others that were fatally fatuous. Dowbiggin expertly delineates the cause and effect nature of all of these decisions for both the players and the owners.

Don't misunderstand -- this is not a dry documentation of the business wrangling of the past dozen years or so between the NHL and the NHLPA. It does not read like a case study manual. On the contrary. It is a veritable page-turner thanks to the naming of names in the intriguing interplay between old owners and the swelling ranks of the newcomers. And you forget what a cast of characters it was in the early '90s: Alan Eagleson and his criminal fall as the union boss; fellow felon Bruce McNall and his meteoric rise and precipitous plummet as owner of the L.A. Kings and as chairman of the NHL's Board of Governors. And President Gil Stein -- he of the one-year tenure and self-nomination for induction into the Hockey Hall of Fame. Crazy, but true ... and that is to name but a few.

Any wrath now directed towards NHL Commissioner Gary Bettman and NHLPA head Bob Goodenow due to the current lockout may dissipate after reading Dowbiggin's telling account.

Putting a Roof on Winter: By Michael McKinley

For a much more far-reaching history, I recommend McKinley's effort published in 2000 by Greystone Books. Putting a Roof on Winter is an account of the game of hockey from its origin, tracking the early migration all the way from the Irish offering of hurling or hurley to the iterations seen on the east coast of North America in the mid-1800s. At the crux of McKinley's book is the definitive move of hockey from an outdoor game to one played indoors, all because of the effort of one John Creighton in Montreal in 1875.

The subtitle of the book is From Sport to Spectacle, which summarizes why it has relevance in today's hockey climate beyond mere historical data. Creighton gave credibility to the game that he had become familiar with in Halifax. Because he was English and educated, his game became acceptable beyond the Irish and the French. Bringing hockey indoors further "legitimized" the game. From there McKinley traces the formation of the various leagues across Canada and in Northern Michigan and the resultant competition for the best players. Accordingly, the tale of Cyclone Taylor's odyssey and the formation of the first professional hockey league -- the six-team International Hockey League comprised of three clubs in Michigan, two in Pittsburgh and one in Canada -- show that 'buying a championship team' is hardly a new concept in sports.

In fact, part of the pleasure derived from reading Putting a Roof on Winter is in proving the old adage that the more things change, the more they stay the same. From economic issues to radical rule changes, strong-willed personalities, hucksters and Canadian-American snobbery-animosity, the game of hockey has seen it all before today's dilemma. McKinley's fine form reminds and reassures us that, at least in the big picture, hockey is great enough to survive even this bleakest of winters.

Ballad of the Whiskey Robber: By Julian Rubinstein

At its core, this isn't really a book about hockey, but it doesn't matter. It is a wonderful read and ultimately may deliver the most compelling hockey message of all in the face of the seemingly outlandish labor discourse. The context of the story alone is fascinating enough, but the expert detailing of the conflict between Romania and Hungary and the chaotic shift of Hungary from Communism to Capitalism gives the piece a palpable, emotive quality.

Published this year by Little Brown and Company (www.twbookmark.com), Ballad of the Whiskey Robber is the saga of Attila Ambrus -- a character for the ages if there ever was one. Let's just say that if Ambrus were a work of fiction, his exploits would be more believable. That he is real is, well, unbelievable.

That is where Mr. Rubinstein shows his skill as a writer. His treatment of Ambrus is a deft and poignant example of compassion and humor that makes Attila resonate as a character. In fact, people in the story flow freely throughout -- come and go, some integral to the plot, others incidental -- yet all were easy to visualize and get a sense of their being. Which is critical with this book because I -- like most who might read it -- have never been to Hungary. But, it matters about as much as it did to Attila that he wasn't a hockey player when he tried out for the local Hungarian pro team.

Ah, yes. Hockey. Well, from a hockey perspective, Attila and his teammates prove that one characteristic is universal -- no matter the locale or the level of play. That being, left to their own devices, hockey players are apt to fill their time away from the rink by living life to its fullest. The work/hard, play/hard mentality remains a part of hockey's sub-culture. As Rubinstein so eloquently portrays, no one, however, ever took that mantra to the extreme like Attila Ambrus.

So, while Ballad of the Whiskey Robber is a tale in which hockey is just one of several interwoven subplots, Attila's passion and desire represent the most refreshing display of playing for playing sake that I've come across in recent memory. Now more than ever -- given the current state of the NHL -- that is a sentiment well worth rekindling.

Darren Eliot, a former NHL goaltender, is a hockey analyst for SI.com.