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Photo of the retired jerseys of Colorado Avalanche greats. Photo credit: Wikimedia commons
The Colorado Avalanche are in a state so terrible it rivals the despair of Scrooge’s Christmas spirit.
For Colorado Avalanche fans, it’s that time of year already. I don’t mean Christmas — that comes for everyone. I mean it’s time for us to shake our heads in despair at another lost season.
However, it is also the Christmas season. And we’ve already spent lots of time trying to evaluate what’s wrong with the team. While we’re sure to spend even more time doing the same before the season is up, let’s take a light-hearted approach to the subject.
So, here it is — the Colorado Avalanche and the Ghosts of Christmas.
***
The Colorado Avalanche season was dead, to begin with. There may have been some little doubt because they weren’t even halfway through the season yet. However, with a record “good” for dead-last in the NHL at Christmastime, the season seemed as dead as a doornail.
General manager Joe Sakic curled up in his cold bed alone. Deb and the kids were off to Canada to see the folks, but old Super Joe just wasn’t feeling the spirit. He made excuses about Avalanche business and stayed in Colorado.
While curled up in his bed, Joe couldn’t get his mind off the state of the team. He believed in his young core. He felt he had assembled a decent supporting cast. Heck, the Avalanche had even hired a fancy stats analyst!
To try and calm his racing mind, Joe put on one of his old favorites, A Christmas Carol. Sakic favored the old school 1951 version with Alastair Sim as Scrooge.
Normally Joe loved Christmas, but the Avalanche season was getting him down. As he pondered that maybe old Ebeneezer had a point about some things being a humbug, he drifted off to sleep.
The Ghost of Colorado Avalanche Past
Joe Sakic awoke with a start. He looked at his TV, but the screen was blue. He’d slept through his movie, and Netflix had gotten tired of waiting for him to select another.
Joe wondered what time it was. He pushed the button on his Fit Bit — reflecting as he always did that if he’d had the device in his playing days he probably would have blown it up with all the exercise he got in — and was startled to note it was 1:00 am.
The door to Joe’s room was pushed open, and he found himself face to face with an unearthly visitor with heaven-blue eyes.
“Foppa!” Joe exclaimed. For it was his old teammate, Colorado Avalanche great Peter Forsberg, who had opened the door.
Before Joe could reflect that it was weird that Peter was skulking around his house at 1:00 am instead of his own house in Sweden, he noticed that Forsberg was in full hockey gear.
And he appeared to be about as old as he was when the two had met. His skin was so smooth, his hair floppy and blond. And those unearthly eyes twinkled with mirth.
“Are you the spirit of Peter the Great?” Joe asked, suddenly worried for his longtime friend.
“I am not,” the spirit answered. “I am the Ghost of Colorado Avalanche Past.” He stretched his stick out to Joe. “Come with me.”
“What business has brought you here, Foppa?”
“Your welfare. And I’m not-”
“My welfare? Wouldn’t I be better off with a good night’s rest, Peter? This isn’t like that time we were on the road in St. Louis…”
“The team’s reclamation, then. Take the blade of my stick. I must show you something.”
Joe was unused to grabbing the business end of a hockey stick, but he followed the ghost-who-looked-like-a-young-Peter-Forsberg’s direction.
The two were instantly transported to the old McNichols Arena locker room. A raucous party was going on. Champagne was overflowing the Stanley Cup. Sandis Ozolinsh was running around gibbering in Latvian.
Joe pointed. “Look! It’s Rene Corbet! I forgot he was on the Cup-winning team. And there’s Eric Lacroix and Stephane Yelle. Those three were the best of buddies.”
Naturally, most of the crowd was drawn around the Colorado Avalanche core. There was Peter Forsberg, looking only a couple years older than the spirit at Joe’s side. A young Adam Foote and… there! Sakic was taking a champagne bottle from a familiar hand — Patrick Roy’s.
Joe sighed. “Those were the good old days. We thought we were golden. We all worked so hard to get where we were, and it came to fruition.” Joe sniffled. “Show me no more, Foppa. This new team is nothing like we were.”
“You knew how to win, you mean,” the spirit observed.
“We had a Stanley Cup attitude.” Joe bit his tongue. “Take me back, Peter. Haunt me no more.”
Sakic found himself alone in his bed. His Fit Bit said it was nearly 2:00 am. Joe knew the story — he figured he had another guest coming.
Nov 5, 2015; Glendale, AZ, USA; Colorado Avalanche head coach Patrick Roy (C) reacts after losing a coaches challenge in the second period against the Arizona Coyotes at Gila River Arena. Mandatory Credit: Matt Kartozian-USA TODAY Sports
The Ghost of Colorado Avalanche Present
Joe Sakic waited. And waited. He wondered where the spirit could be. He slid out of bed and shuffled toward the bedroom door. He reached out, and the moment his fingers touched the doorknob, light shone from under the door. Joe knew that special quality of light — he had seen it two times. It was the platinum sheen of the Stanley Cup!
Sakic threw the door wide, joyous to see the light of Lord Stanley’s Cup one more time outside of the Hockey Hall of Fame. At first Joe was blinded by the platinum light. However, a familiar voice called out to him, “Come in! And know me better, man!”
Joe squinted and grunted, “I know you well enough, Patty.”
“I am the Ghost of Colorado Avalanche Present. Look upon me!”
Joe held a hand up to his eyes. Still squinting, he said, “You’re Patrick Roy. Stop being so pompous.” Under his breath he added, “as usual.” He shuffled further into the family room.
Patrick Roy sat on a throne-like hockey bench flanked by not two but four Stanley Cups, the source of the light. Of course this spirit would have his four Stanley Cups — not plugging his ears, but arrayed next to him like a vanguard.
“You have never seen the like of me before!”
“We were teammates for eight years, Patty, and co-workers for three until you quit the team.”
“Resigned. And I’m the Ghost of Christmas Present.”
Joe sighed. “You’re going to point out that the team is dead last in the NHL without you.”
“Do I really need to, Joey?”
“Don’t call me Joey. You know I hate that.”
The Ghost of Avalanche Present/Patrick Roy beckoned to Joe Sakic. “Come, Joey, and drink of victory from the Stanley Cup.”
Joe pursed his lips. “Not until we’ve earned it again.” He noticed a vision in one of the Cups.
The spirit saw him noticing and beckoned again. “The Columbus Blue Jackets are celebrating their milestone victories. It’s not the Cup… yet. But soon.”
Joe waved him off. “Why would I want to watch that? And don’t say it’s because I haven’t seen a team with a reason to celebrate recently.”
The spirit asked, “Do you know what Columbus doesn’t have that the Avalanche have?”
“I think you mean what Columbus has that Colorado doesn’t have. Practice your English, Patty.”
“Columbus doesn’t have Chris MacFarland as assistant GM. Colorado does.”
Joe rolled his eyes. “Not that argument again.”
The spirit — who looked a lot like Patrick Roy in one of his expensive suits. You know, the one with the purple and gray tie — beckoned Joe a third time.
Joe squinted. “Sorry, Patty, but I see something strange reflected in the two Cups on either side of you. Is it a blade or a stick?”
Spirit Patrick sighed. “It might be a blade, for there is pain upon it. Look here.”
Finally Joe was intrigued enough to draw closer. He looked behind the 1996 Stanley Cup and saw a young boy with green eyes and dark curls wearing an Avs jersey and skates. He looked behind the 2001 Cup and saw what almost looked like Forsberg’s son but reminded him so much of the current Avalanche captain…
“Patty, is that Matt Duchene and Gabriel Landeskog?”
“They are children of the Avs. The brunette is Ignorance, and the blonde is Want.”
“Ignorance and Want?” Joe repeated. “Those seem like harsh names to call Dutchy and Landy.”
“Ignorance is the child of not knowing how to win. Want is the child of desiring a Stanley Cup attitude while not understanding the iron will it takes.”
Before Joe could ask if the children could learn what was needed, his Fit Bit vibrated as if he’d reached 10,000 steps. Sakic looked about him for the Spirit. But all he saw was his good buddy, Chris MacFarland.
Oct 8, 2015; Denver, CO, USA; Colorado Avalanche center Matt Duchene (9) reacts to the loss against the Minnesota Wild at Pepsi Center. The Wild won 5-4. Mandatory Credit: Ron Chenoy-USA TODAY Sports
The Ghost of Colorado Avalanche Future
Chris walked slowly, weirdly, toward Joe Sakic.
“Hey, Farley, what are you doing?” Joe asked.
MacFarland continued to walk slowly toward Joe. Sakic noticed that the Stanley Cups were gone.
“Wait, are you supposed to be the Ghost of Colorado Avalanche Future?” Joe thought that he’d never noticed how cavernous Chris’s eye sockets were.
The Ghost of Colorado Avalanche Future — for it was he — stopped in front of Joe. Sakic felt dread. “Ghost of the Future, I fear you most!”
More from Mile High Sticking
MacFarland turned and strode toward the front door. Unnecessarily, Joe cried, “Lead on, Farley!” He scurried after his assistant GM.
In an instant the pair were in the player’s entrance to the ice at the Pepsi Center. It was deserted, which was no mystery at that time of night. Even the team’s most dedicated player, Matt Duchene, returned home every once in a while.
Querulously Joe asked, “Farley, er, Spirit, why have you brought me here at this time of night?”
The Spirit, channeling the Bronx lawyer he resembled, pleaded the fifth. He pointed to the ice. Joe squinted and saw players. One team clearly wore Colorado Avalanche home colors. The others’ jerseys were indistinct, thought there appeared to be a Christmas theme to the coloration.
Joe looked into the stands, expecting the see the jubilant faces from his days as a player or even from the golden Why Not Us season. Yet the seats remained empty. Sakic looked back out on the ice to see the opponent score a goal. Then another. Then another.
“Are there no face offs?!” Joe cried. The Spirit just pointed. As the opponent scored and scored again, the players in Colorado Avalanche colors drooped more and more. Joe didn’t know that feeling, not from his playing days. When the team were down, he and Foppa went out and kicked opponent butt, knowing Roy would shut the door in the d-zone.
These players didn’t have that spirit. Joe didn’t know why, but he realized he’d known that for a while. And what had kept him from heading to Canada with Deb and the kids — the idea that he might have a part in the problem — came back in full force.
“Show me no more, Spirit.”
To Joe’s shock, the Ghost of Colorado Avalanche Future broke with convention and spoke. In his lawyerly way, MacFarland said, “Hey, Joe, guess what deal I negotiated.” He sounded downright giddy.
Joe frowned. “Aren’t you supposed to stay silent as you show me the grave of the Colorado Avalanche?”
Still giddy, MacFarland tittered. “C’mon. This is the deal that I’m going to be remembered by.” He scurried toward the locker rooms, and Joe followed.
Naturally, the Colorado Avalanche locker room was empty, though normally during a game there’d be some staff and a scratched player or two. Rather, the locker room was set up as if in preparation for a game. That said, as Joe looked around, something seemed to be missing. “What deal are you talking about, Farley?”
“Check this out.” Chris MacFarland threw a sheaf of papers toward Joe. The sheaf turned into a cascade. As they fell in front of Joe’s face, he saw they were a trade contract. Before he could read any of the names involved in the trade, the papers fell. Joe blinked. He was in the Columbus Blue Jackets’ home locker room now.
“Hey, Farley, are you trying to tell me I get traded to the BJs? You can’t trade general managers. And you have no power over me. Well, no authority,” Joe amended.
Apparently MacFarland was back to being the silent Spirit because he just pointed. Joe saw a player’s jersey with the logo facing out. He shrugged. It was a little weird not having the numbers out — how else could you identify whose jersey was whose? He squinted. He could see the curve of a nine on the sleeve.
Dread curled up in Joe’s belly. The Columbus Blue Jackets didn’t have a player who wore the number nine. The NHL didn’t have a whole lot of players who wore that number, for some reason.
Joe only had to walk over and turn the jersey around. But he didn’t want to. “Spirit, answer me one question. Are these the replay video of things that will be, or are they the vid of things that may be only?”
MacFarland just pointed.
Joe Sakic took a step toward the locker stall. He heard a groaning and looked up at one of the replay televisions to see the opponents scoring on the Colorado Avalanche again.
“Why would you three Spirits show me these visions if the future is foretold?” Joe took a step and reached out for the jersey. Another groan — another score against the Colorado Avalanche.
Joe clutched the jersey, enough to fully see it was a number nine and read the beginning of the name on the back: Duc.
“Farley! Hear me! I am not the GM I was! I will not be the GM I was that led us to this place. I am changed.” He took a fierce hold of Duchene’s CBJ jersey. “And I will NOT let you orchestrate a disastrous deal for the team I love! Leave me, Chris MacFarland!” He flung the jersey at the Spirit’s suddenly fearful face.
Chris MacFarland disappeared.
Nov 19, 2016; Saint Paul, MN, USA; Colorado Avalanche forward Mikko Rantanen (96) celebrates his goal in the third period against the Minnesota Wild at Xcel Energy Center. The Avalanche beat the Wild 3-2. Mandatory Credit: Brad Rempel-USA TODAY Sports
A Real New Beginning — #NewEra
Joe Sakic blinked, and he was back in his bedroom. The room was lighter — not with the gleam of Stanley Cups, but with the magic of Christmas morning!
“Score!” Joe exclaimed. “I will remember the past so I can change the present. And the future — the future belongs to the Colorado Avalanche!”
Joe snatched up his cell phone from the nightstand. He had it in mind to call Deb and the kids and tell him he’d be on a flight that day. Instead, his fingers pressed another number still stored in his phone.
“Joyeux noël,” Patrick Roy greeted. In his typically French way, he observed, “You’re calling a little early, Joey, isn’t it?”
“Patty, you were right.”
“About my golf handicap? I know that.”
“No, about the direction the Colorado Avalanche has to go in. Patty, you have to come back.”
Seriously, Patrick replied, “No, Joe, I do not.”
Sakic had awakened with a sense of hope, but it diminished for a moment. “Are you serious?”
“I will return to the Colorado Avalanche one day,” Patrick promised. “But not now.”
“But…”
“Joe, you and I came up with a vision together. The team must be big and strong. Their talent must be pushed by their compete level. The team must have a Stanley Cup attitude. That is the path.”
“Nobody has a compete level to match yours,” Joe observed.
“Certainly not a lawyer from the Bronx.”
Sakic sighed. “He’s too cautious, isn’t he?”
“You know the will to win at any costs. You know what it feels like. Get down into the locker room, Joey. It’s amazing down there — much better than being up in the offices. Let the players take inspiration from you.”
“It’s not the same game it was in our day, Patty.”
“A Stanley Cup attitude never changes.”
After a few holiday pleasantries, the two rang off. Already a plan was forming in his head.
Joe Sakic was better than his word. He became much more active in the locker room to instill confidence in his young core. He taught Landeskog how to be a captain that the entire NHL could admire — even if the young Swede still occasionally indulged in his “wild ways.”
As for Matt Duchene, he was not traded to the Columbus Blue Jackets. Joe did a better job of evaluating his players — using both analytics and the eye test. And he eventually brought a man into the front offices who had the legendary will to win and iron resolve to make the tough trades.
Joe had no further intercourse with the Spirits but plenty of talk with his old buddies from his playing days. And eventually it was said of him that he knew how to inspire young players well.
