The Detroit Red Wings showed up at the United Center Thursday night expecting a round of handshakes.
Instead, the best team in hockey got a face full of slaps.
Obviously, the Blackhawks decided to say hello to this Stanley Cup semifinal series just when they were supposed to say goodbye.
The Red Wings still might not know what hit them, but for starters, there was this mad Russian.
Sergei Krivokrasov, exhumed from the bench and inserted into the Chicago lineup, began Game 4 as though he’d been served some bad borscht. After 18 seconds, the former Red Army tank ran into and almost over Mike Vernon, the Detroit goalie.
If Krivokrasov couldn’t get under Vernon’s skin, Krivokrasov would try to separate Vernon’s mask from his cologne. It was a penalty, of course, and not the smartest maneuver in Krivokrasov’s brief career. Had the Red Wings scored on that power play, who knows? Russian Roulette.
Maybe it’s four and fore for the Hawks.
But the Red Wings didn’t score then, early, or until it was too late. They had their egos handed to them 5-2 by the Hawks, who are just daffy enough to think they’ve got the Red Wings right where they want them now, three losses away from elimination.
Stranger things have happened, but not many.
The Red Wings’ only other playoff defeat this post-season occurred after they mounted a 3-0 lead in games during their opening series. Given a couple off days in Dallas to ponder their place in history, the Red Wings left their skates somewhere deep in the heart of Texas.
It is not known what the Red Wings did with their spare hours in Chicago on Wednesday, but they clearly were not ready for the Hawks. That is no small statement, given the litany of athletic failure in this city’s annals. Teams here have surrendered when the reward was far greater than yet another road trip to Detroit.
But, if these Hawks were as meek as some of their predecessors, they would have folded long ago, like after two defeats at home against Toronto more than a month ago. No, these Hawks are different. Instead of mailing it in Thursday night, they’ll hop on a plane and take their chances Sunday night.
Suddenly, the Hawks see hope through a sea of octopuses. The Hawks have all the jump of a team that figures golf can wait. The Hawks are armed and dangerous if not still at the long end of prohibitive odds. But, some underdogs bite and others draw the collar.
Pick a hero, and feel at ease with your choice.
Denis Savard? He returned to the Hawks in early April. Skeptics said it was a courtesy curtain call, that he still had the name but not the legs. Savard said he didn’t come back to Chicago for the restaurants. He came to win.
Savard scored twice Thursday night, assisted once, and could have had more.
Dirk Graham? Every game is a five-bagger for him. Two bags for his knees, both of them bone-on-bone, and another bag for his back. In this grinder of a series, Graham has been chilled like a bottle of fine wine.
He gets better too. The Captain scored Thursday night, circling around for another crack at being denied by Vernon. Graham always comes for more. He might retire soon, but Thursday night was too soon.
Ed Belfour? He hung his head Tuesday night after the Soft One. But he’s a goalie. He’s allowed to be nuts. So he arrived Thursday night, thinking it wasn’t over, and it was Vernon who was driven from the net instead.
The fans? They showed up, too, because they always do. Rooting for a Stanley Cup since 1961 means never having to say you’re sorry.
“ED-DIE, ED-DIE!!” they yelled instead. They’ve got Monday night blocked off for Game 6, just in case.
Steve Yzerman is back, and Sergei Fedorov will be, and Jeremy Roenick is hurting again. But the Hawks still have their gloves on, and that doesn’t make for very sincere handshakes.
