Posted: Wed October 29, 1997
John LeClair, who at one time in his career didn't have a prayer
of being an NHL star, scored a goal from his knees last month.
Maybe you saw it. The tally made nearly all the television
highlight packages, even the ones that usually show just the
fights. LeClair, the Philadelphia Flyers' resident stoic,
stumbled to the ice near the net after jostling with a Montreal
Canadiens defenseman, took a pass from linemate Eric Lindros and
pushed the puck into the cage. That simple. That complicated.
"Yeah, well," says LeClair when asked about the goal, "I saw the
replay the next morning, and it didn't seem like anything
spectacular to me. I mean, Eric made that play with his pass,
and the goalie was out of position. There were a lot of
circumstances involved. That's all. That goal is no ESPY winner
or anything. Really, you just have to take things for what they
are."
That's LeClair. When he looks at a cup, he sees it as neither
half empty nor half full. He sees water. So why can't he see
himself as anything but half empty?
After scoring the game-winner with 1:53 remaining last Thursday
in a 4-3 victory over the Calgary Flames, LeClair was leading
the NHL with nine goals. So why does it seem as if the first
words out of his mouth are always, "Yeah, but ... "? Why does he
have a goal-scoring streak of six games and say, "In honesty, we
haven't been that consistent?" Why does he hit the 50-goal mark
two straight years during an era when scoring is off more than
World Series ratings and still feel he hasn't really proved
himself? Why doesn't he crow that most defensemen need a Denver
boot to handle him in front of the net instead of fretting that
he doesn't use his industrial-strength shot coming down the wing
often enough? "My goals don't usually travel very far," LeClair
says. "Face it. If you wanted to put on a uniform and skate, you
could score most of the goals I do."
When is this 6'3", 226-pound bundle of self-deprecation going to
realize just how splendid he is? If we're lucky, never.
Of course, a part of him understands that he is Big John
LeClair, NHL star. He knows that he's one of 37 players in
league history to have multiple 50-goal seasons, because that
fact is cold and hard, plain and simple, not subject to debate.
But another part of him is Little Johnny LeClair from St.
Albans, Vt., who married his college sweetheart, Christina; who
thought that a four- or five-year career in the minors would be
swell; who, after twice scoring 19 goals in a season for
Montreal, thought he had reached his potential; who envisioned
himself as "a third-line checking forward who could go up and
down the wing, not hurt the team and maybe chip in with a goal
once in a while."
With 15 points at week's end, LeClair was four points behind
Lindros for the NHL scoring lead, yet Little Johnny still stalks
Big John. With his name regularly popping up in box scores and
his likeness featured in a video game, he sometimes wonders if
the job of hockey star isn't two sizes too large for him. He is
routinely mentioned with the Anaheim Mighty Ducks' Paul Kariya
(a restricted free agent who has yet to sign a contract), the
Detroit Red Wings' Brendan Shanahan and the Phoenix Coyotes'
Keith Tkachuk as one of the NHL's four top left wings, but
LeClair says, "Those guys are a lot better than I am." Such
comparisons take LeClair into the uncomfortable realm of opinion
and interpretation. Nuance never has been the strong part of his
game. "I want to be respected around the league, but it's not my
goal to be the top left wing," says LeClair, who didn't report
to training camp for nine days until the Flyers agreed to
upgrade the remaining three years on his contract, to $3.3
million annually, plus incentives. "What matters to me is what
matters to the guys in the dressing room."
Continued
|
