Welcome home ... !!!

Hi gang,

By and large, Boston sports fans enjoy the reputation of being among the most passionate and most knowledgeable sports fans on the planet. It's a well-deserved reputation for most diehard Hub fans (not those bandwagon-jumping, Johnny-come-lately pink hats that show up every time one of our teams goes deep into the playoffs!). That hard-core fan status was never more evident than one day this past August, during my coaching sessions with Stop It Goaltending at Merrimack College.

Again this summer, I had the chance to work with Cory Schneider, the Marblehead native and former Phillips Andover/Boston College goaltender who now plies his trade for the Vancouver Canucks. Schneider has worked closely over the yeas with Brian Daccord, who owns Stop it Goaltending. This spring, he got some quality minutes during the Stanley Cup playoffs, and acquitted himself well, especially in the finals against the hometown Boston Bruins. No surprise there.

Schneider was and is a tremendous young goaltender, a guy who has continually honed his game throughout his amateur and now professional career. He's patient, which you need to be when playing behind a $6-million goalie like Roberto Luongo. He's also a genuinely good guy -- dedicated, articulate, humble, hard-working, and good-natured. That last trait came in handy one day this summer, during one of our camp's normal end-of-practice "game time" sessions.

Schneider was working out with our older college goalies, sharpening his game after a brief respite that followed a long, long season (making it to Game 7 of the Stanley Cup finals meant Schneider's season lasted well into June). During these afternoon sessions, our Stop It counselors (who are campers themselves, typically older high school or college-age guys) would bring a number of the younger campers to watch the "big boys" play. I love this concept, because it gives these youngsters -- even the most cocky of the bunch -- a chance to see how much better they could be, if they keep at it.

On this particular afternoon, the counselor shepherding the kids was a young guy buy the name of David Cunningham, who played at Belmont Hill and was angling toward a possible Division 1 scholarship. Cunningham is an Arlington kid, competitive as all get out, but with a mischievous sense of humor. As we wrapped up our drills on the ice, Cunningham positioned his fuzzy-cheeked charges in a corner of the Merrimack College stands by one net. Which happened to be the net that Schneider occupied.

Our "game time" is a chance for our shooters -- mostly D-1 guys and young pros -- to stretch their legs a bit after each session. It usually features four nets and four goalies in the offensive zone, and three or four shooters firing at any net, needing to score four goals in 40 seconds to win each "game." If the goalies allow fewer than four goals, they win. Depending on how much time we have left, we usually try to squeeze in a 7-game series.

So for the first game on this particular day, we asked four goalies to jump in the nets. Schneider, showing one of the reasons why he's so good, jumps right up and takes a net by the corner. Next to all the young kids. And how do they show their love for the local guy? By chanting. But not the chant you might expect. The kids in the stands, maybe a couple dozen of them, start serenading Schneider with the classic Boston Garden mantra, "Let's go, Bruins! Let's go, Bruins!"

I started laughing so hard, I just about fell over. In fact, everyone began  howling. When I looked at Schneider, I could see Cory was rolling his eyes, getting a good laugh as well. Schneider might be the local guy, but these kids weren't going to let him forget where their true allegiances were.

To cap it off, the goalies won the "game," shutting down the shooters. As he left his goal, Schneider tapped the glass, letting the kids know that the Bruins might have won the war last spring, but he just won this little skirmish. And they could expect to hear more from him in the years ahead. It was a perfect hockey moment, equal parts competitive and jovial. Just a wonderful snapshot from a great summer on the ice.

Measuring a man's heart

Hi gang,

Here's my August column for The Goalie Guru in the New England Hockey Journal. After the amazing championship run by Tim Thomas and the Boston Bruins this past spring, I took some time to reflect on this remarkable competitor.

THERE'S NO WAY TO MEASURE HEART

No one, it seems, has a lukewarm opinion about Bruin's goaltender Tim Thomas. For some reason, the NHL's reigning Vezina Trophy winner as the league's best goaltender elicits strong opinions, and not all of them are kind.

People either love or hate the acrobatic netminder from Flint, Michigan. I can understand why folks enjoy watching the 37-year-old perform his game-time acts of legerdemain. The ones I can't figure out are those who ridicule Thomas, calling him undisciplined, unpredictable, or mocking his dietary habits with taunts of "Tubby." Who are these people?

It's easy to dismiss the bandwagon-jumping, pink hat fans who derided Thomas when, a year removed from his first Vezina campaign in 2008-09, muddled through a middling 2009-10 campaign. Thomas and the Bruins prevailed in the Winter Classic at Fenway Park that year, but by season's end, young Tuukka Rask, Thomas's fabulous Finnish understudy, had become the darling of the know-it-all set.

But even during his remarkable bounce-back 2010-11 season, Thomas had serious detractors among hockey's cognoscenti, people who supposedly are intimately familiar not only with the game, but also the singular position of goaltending. Many goalies, and goalie coaches, sniffed at the media for heaping praise on Thomas, arguing that most ink-stained wretches don't really know the game, or that Thomas benefits from a strong defense that specializes in keeping opponent shots to the outside. They delight in the occasional howler that Thomas gives up, conveniently forgetting that almost every goalie does the same.

Even among my coaching colleagues, Thomas is the guy that drives almost everyone nuts. The reasons why were eerily similar to those that kept Thomas from breaking through the NHL barrier in the first place. He's not a cookie-cutter stylist like the New York Rangers' Henrik Lundqvist. In fact, Thomas's style was a distinct absence of style. To say that Thomas is unconventional is pure overstatement. While we typically teach a calm, compact approach, Thomas is all frenetic energy, with flailing arms and legs and stick.

But there is a method to Thomas's goalmouth madness. He plays the game organically, with an uncanny ability to be in the right place at the right time, a sure sign that he can read the play. His lateral quickness is extraordinary, perhaps better than anyone playing the game right now. In a game predicated on getting the goalie to move, in order to open up net, Thomas's knack to get centered on the puck at the precise moment the shot arrives is exceptional.

But that hasn't stopped his detractors. Thomas can't skate, they said. He's a hot head. He's too erratic. Through all the criticism, Thomas never once stopped believing in himself, and that proved contagious, to his teammates, and to many fans.

I've always rooted for Thomas. Maybe that's because I've always been a fan of the underdog, and Thomas's tortuous road to NHL stardom certainly qualifies him for the role. More than anything, I love the guy's heart. Did I have him pegged as an NHL All-Star when he was toiling away for the Providence Bruins? Not a chance. But I can honestly say, with a straight face and my hand on a stack of Bibles, that I liked him. A lot.

The guy simply won everywhere he's played. Why are people so quick to overlook that fact? He won at the University of Vermont, he won as a minor leaguer, he won in Finland, and he won in the best league on the planet. He did it with a frenetic, scrambling style that stymied shooters as often as it stressed coaches and GMs. And he did it with his heart on his sleeve, a heart that drove him to reach levels that his physical gifts couldn't reach alone.

As a kid growing up in New Jersey, I always found myself cheering for goalies who overcame long odds, and did it with a pugnacious nature. New York Ranger Hall of Famer Eddie Giacomin was told to give up the sport as a youngster after he suffered serious burns in a kitchen accident (in the days of the Original Six, with only a half-dozen goalie spots in the entire NHL). Battlin' Billy Smith, one of the original New York Islanders who also ended up in the Hall, endured brutal expansion seasons but hung tough to become the backbone of the four-time Stanley Cup champs.

Plus, what a lot of naysayers fail to appreciate about Thomas is that, despite the chaos that surrounds his net, the puck rarely winds up in it. Does Thomas give up some bad goals? No question. In fact, he's given up some brutal tallies as recently as the Montreal series this past spring. When he did, Thomas's critics were quick to pounce. And, just like he's done all his life, Thomas shut them up, not with barbed retorts or snarky Twitter postings, but with his play between the pipes.

Not surprisingly, the majority of the hockey press was effusive in its praise of Thomas. NHL goalies Marty Turco and Kevin Weekes raved about his playoff performance. The following nugget, by my friend James Murphy of ESPNBoston, captures Thomas, and his 2010-11 season succinctly and fittingly.

"What Thomas was able to accomplish this past season after having off-season hip surgery and being peddled around the trade rumor circuit is simply amazing" wrote Murphy in his season recap, in which he gave Thomas an A+ grade. "Always one to thrive off adversity, Thomas persevered again and this time his perseverance rubbed off on his teammates, who took on the identity of one of the most resilient teams in recent memory. Thomas was 35-11-9 with and led the NHL in GAA (2.00), save percentage (.938) and had nine shutouts in the regular season.

"But Thomas was far from done, as he just got better when the playoffs arrived and was clutch for the Bruins, even as some in the media and a certain opposing goalie questioned his style. He was 16-9 with a 1.98 GAA, .940 save percentage and led the NHL in playoff shutouts with four. Just as he did in the regular season on so many occasions, Thomas put the team on his back and took them all the way to the Cup."

Watching Thomas hoist the Cup, and the Conn Smythe Trophy as playoff MVP, was indeed one of the most satisfying things I've witnessed in my 45 years of hockey. His second Vezina Trophy, which he received a week later in Las Vegas, was sweet frosting on the cake. Oh, and did I mention his two ESPY's for Best NHL Player and Best Championship Performance?

Murphy chose the word "perseverance," but I prefer "desire." Thomas, through sheer heart and determination, willed himself into an NHL caliber goaltender, and a Stanley Cup champion. He did it with a steely resolve that overcame incredible odds, constant rejection and career-threatening hip surgery (which, I have to add, he never once used as an excuse!).

That's how he plays the game. The key to Thomas's performance lies in his passion. He is a relentless competitor who simply doesn't quit. Ever. Many aspiring goaltenders think they have that trait, but it's rare. And it's almost impossible to teach.

This past month, while coaching with Stop It Goaltending at Merrimack College, I watched a young Casey DeSmith, who is heading to the University of New Hampshire, make a near-impossible save during our "game time." These end-of-practice contests pit shooters against goalies, usually 4-on-4, with no defense. Shooters can fire away at any net. Left stranded by a cross-ice pass, with a shooter looking at a wide-open net, DeSmith dug in and flew across the net, blocking the shot.

"That was a heck of a save," I told DeSmith. "It was lucky," he replied, smiling. "No, it wasn't," I said, "You might have been lucky to get a piece of it, but there was nothing lucky at all about the effort. Nine goalies out of 10 wouldn't have done that. Tim Thomas would be proud."

DeSmith just laughed. He probably had no idea that, in my book, there's no greater compliment.

FINIS