Tim Thomas and teamwork

Hi all,

Coincidentally, I'm trying to catch up on my blog at the very time that my Boston Bruins, circa 2012-13,and the rest of the National Hockey League playoff teams begin their annual quest for the Stanley Cup. I wrote this column for the New England Hockey Journal last spring, just after the hometown Bruins got bounced from the playoffs, but before Tim Thomas announced his self-imposed sabbatical. Interestingly enough, Thomas is no longer Bruins property, after the Boston brass ship his rights to the mighty New York Islanders. But the lessons learned during last spring's debacle are still relevant, I think. Would you agree? Let me know ...

Teamwork – The concept that Tim Thomas forgot

As I write this column, the "will he stay or will he go" drama surrounding the Bruins' Vezina-winning goaltender Tim Thomas is still simmering. Count me among those who feel that the team is better off without him. It's not because I don't like Thomas (as a person or a player), or don't respect him, or don't think he can still get it done at 38 years young.

Primarily, Thomas and the Bruins are better off parting ways because he's forgotten one of the bedrock principles of the sport: It's all about the team.

Keep in mind, this is not a "Bruins" issue. Even though this column focuses on Thomas, it's not a Boston-centric topic. It just so happens that it was the Black and Gold that Thomas played for, and it was the Bruins locker room that was severely compromised by the self-centered actions of their goaltender.

What Thomas did, in several highly publicized pratfalls and in many more instances that flew under the radar, was to put his own priorities before those of his team. There's an old adage that organizations often rot from the head down. For hockey teams, the decay often begins in the locker room. And it often proves fatal.

The key element to remember here is this concept: the goaltender is part of the team. A vital, essential part of the team. Granted, that's not always evident, especially the way some coaches allow the goalies to be scapegoats when "bad" goals get scored (I can usually find a string of mistakes that lead to almost any goal, but that's a subject for another day). But the reality is that goaltenders only have one job – to keep the puck out of the net. If the biscuit gets behind them too often, they usually feel the brunt of any subsequent losses.

As a result, goaltenders often feel like they're on an island. They're separated from the rest of the team for a variety of reasons, including their singular job description and the pressure that goes along with that, and their own history of being eccentric. That's all the more reason why goaltenders have to ingratiate themselves with their teammates. If they can, they cultivate a win-win scenario.

Teammates will go to the wall for a goaltender they care about. Conversely, they can just as easily give up on a goaltender who they've either lost faith in, or don't like. It's the nature of the beast. That doesn't mean the locker room has to be a love-fest, but there's got to be mutual respect. Thomas took a wrong turn when he took his "lone wolf" persona public. Repeatedly.

Let's start with the famous White House snub. Thomas sat sulking in his hotel room, bemoaning his country's bloated government, while his teammates paid President Obama a perfunctory visit to celebrate their 2011 Stanley Cup championship. Spare me all those "free speech" arguments; our Constitution prohibits only the government from making laws that prevent free speech. It doesn't say anything about employers, or even coaches (If you don't believe me, try disparaging your boss on Facebook, and see how quickly you get called in on the carpet).

Clearly, the Bruins' brass wanted Thomas (one of only two United States natives on the team) to join the squad at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave., and they had 5 million reasons to insist on it. But the pride of Flint, Michigan, felt his agenda was more important. That "me-first attitude" became a recurring theme for Thomas and the B's last season.

Meanwhile, Thomas's teammates did and said the right thing. Their comments boiled down to this: "As long as he stops the puck, he can say whatever he wants." Don't believe it. Those of us in the business know players avoid saying what they're feeling, especially if the topic is as sensitive as a teammate's behavior. I'd bet my house that a little sodium pentothal would deliver comments that cut much closer to the bone, revealing how much Thomas had cut himself off from his team. One team source told the Boston Globe's Fluto Shinzawa that Thomas was a "[expletive] selfish [expletive]." I guarantee you it was an opinion shared by more than a few.

But Thomas wasn't done. Emboldened by his newfound notoriety, Thomas returned to Facebook to pontificate about his support for the Catholic church amid a birth control debate. Thomas later defended a U.S. Marine scolded for creating a Facebook page critical of the government, which brought the national media buzzing around the Bruins' locker room. Just what a suddenly .500 team didn't need.

Then Thomas tried to hide behind the classic smokescreen, separating his "job" and his "private life." It's an argument that makes Thomas sound either like a country bumpkin, or disingenuous. I believe it's the latter, because Thomas is actually pretty bright, much like that Hick from French Lick, Larry Bird. However, he misjudged the public backlash (or at least the media backlash) of his actions, and he turtled. He made comments that he knew would make headlines, and then refused to explain them.

That trend continued right through the end of the season. By the time the playoffs started, the collective weight of media attention seemed to squeeze the fight out of Thomas. Even when the Bruins lost game 7 of their series against Washington, on Joel Ward's overtime strike, I didn't see any of Thomas's typical fire.

Despite the fact that Capital Mike Knuble ran into him on the game-winning rush – in what former referee Kerry Fraser called a clear case of goalie interference – Thomas didn't argue the call, didn't insist on a video review. This was not the Tim Thomas that decked Philly's Scotty Hartnell in the 2010 Winter Classic, or flattened Henrik Sedin in last year's Stanley Cup finals.

Instead, Thomas laid down, He seemed more than happy to get started on his summer plans. There was even the semi-poignant post-game moment that proved, to my mind, that Thomas quit. As the Bruins players milled about, waiting for the Caps celebration to die down so they could get on with the handshake, Thomas was caught on camera going over to some young fans, telling them to smile. Ever the cynic, I turned to my wife and said, "It's probably his kids."

Sure enough, they were. Now, I understand that no father wants to see his kids upset. My point is that Thomas wasn't upset. The competitive flame that had been his trademark was gone.

So what was Thomas's parting shot, as he packed up the family before running off to Colorado? He told the Globe's Nancy Marrapese-Burrell: "We went right into a very long season and we had adversity throughout that season. Having said that, we stuck together and got it done to come up second in the Eastern Conference."

No, Tim. You didn't stick together. You bailed. When the rest of your team went to celebrate at the White House, you hunkered down in your hotel room to spout some political rant. You made bold Facebook statements, but didn't have the backbone to back them up. You hid behind classic "Bull Durham" sports clichés, and then left your teammates to face the music (Oh, you didn't think that would happen?). You didn't nurture a team atmosphere; you abandoned it.

The Bruins were a team that died from a thousand cuts, and many of those could be attributed directly to their netminder. Thomas put his own agenda ahead of the rest of the squad, and those actions had ramifications that doomed the Bruins season. Thomas was no longer seen inside the locker room as quirky or eccentric. He was seen as selfish. That's a cancer.

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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.

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