"There is a lot of criticism about playing at this time of year—personally, I don't like it either—but you forget about those things in a series like this," Campbell said about the series' stretching until June 20, the second-latest finishing date in Stanley Cup history. "When it's a sweep, we talk about everything that's rubbing us the wrong way."
If anything about the Stars' play rubs him the wrong way, Dallas coach Ken Hitchcock is certain to talk about it. So when the telephone rang at Modano's home at suppertime on June 16, one day after a 2-1 loss to Buffalo in Game 4, the hour of the call suggested two prime candidates to be on the other end: a telemarketer or Hitchcock. Both can be intrusive and insistent, the major difference being that the Stars have no choice but to buy what Hitchcock is selling. They have reached a tacit agreement, this complex, gregarious 47-year-old coach and his old, calloused players. Hitchcock will micro-manage them and squeeze the childlike joy out of their sport and nag them like a shrew in his quixotic search for hockey perfection. "Most miserable first-place team I've ever been on," one Stars veteran said of his team at midseason. The players, in turn, will endure Hitchcock's hectoring.
"Hitch is out there, in his own little world," Keane says. "He's a philosopher. His philosophy has everything to do with perfection. One bad pass, you know you're going to hear it from him. It's like, O.K., here we go again. Mostly in the playoffs, he's just been giving us a look."
Modano got more than that from Hitchcock. Dispensing with any pleasantries on the phone, Hitchcock asked Modano, who hadn't been assertive in the fourth game, "What kind of player are you going to be in Game 5?" The directness of the question might have been perceived as insulting by some players, but Modano took the prod in stride. He replied that he would be involved in every aspect of the game. Hitchcock and the suddenly reenergized Modano chatted for 10 minutes before hanging up. "He seems to have a good understanding of what makes me tick," Modano said. "Sometimes you need a refresher. I tend to veer off. He recognizes it early and straightens me out fast. No, it wasn't surprising to hear from Hitch. He probably phones once a month."
Modano was as good as his vow in Dallas's 2-0 victory in Game 5 the following night, setting up defenseman Darryl Sydor's power-play goal with a sweet cross-ice pass from the right half boards and creating the second goal with sheer determination. Modano pried the puck from Buffalo defenseman Alexei Zhitnik along the boards and then kicked it ahead to defenseman Richard Matvichuk for a two-on-one break that wing Pat Verbeek finished with a deke and a backhander. Modano also won 15 of 23 face-offs, stole the puck three times and blocked a shot. These weren't the little things; they were huge things.
Modano continued his rejuvenation in Game 6, taking a hit from forward Erik Rasmussen along the boards to make the play that led to the Stars' first goal and starting the winner with his strong work down low. He should have been exhausted by then. He had played 46:12, six minutes more than any other forward in a game that would have had a guaranteed spot in the safe-deposit box of the memory even without its contentious conclusion. "When we thought the game was special was going into the third overtime," Hitchcock said. "We knew that whichever way it turned, we were going to be part of something that people would be talking about for a long time."
Little did he know that they would be talking about it for all the wrong reasons. After the game, 39-year-old Dallas center Guy Carbonneau, who has seen everything during his 17 full seasons in the league, was asked if he had watched the replay of the disputed goal.
"No."
When do you plan to?
"Never."