Kindle Notes & Highlights
by
Phil Bourque
Read between
April 3 - April 4, 2020
Holy shit were we bad.
See, they didn’t want any good players in Pittsburgh. Eddie Johnston, the new general manager, was no idiot.
Of course the Penguins tanked that season. It’s no secret.
A big, beautiful rumor.
Mike Bullard scored 51 goals for the Penguins that year, and not one of them was a game-winner. Seriously.
thought to myself, Oh my God. Oh my God. He really is different. He really is going to be a superstar. He really is one of those guys.
Idiots like me were taking runs at him. There was almost no talent in Pittsburgh for Mario to work with. The Penguins were counting on him to lift them out of last place every night.
was on a first-name basis with people in Breezewood, for Christ’s sake.
Eddie Johnston, as the story goes, jumped up in the press box and yelled, “He’s the best fucking player in the world.”
I guess he was an ’80s version of Phil Kessel in some ways, but at least Phil can fly.
Why? I have no idea.
But let’s keep some other things in mind here. He missed four games with an injury. While Robbie and Bobby were good linemates for him, they weren’t exactly Jari Kurri or Glenn Anderson. And did I mention the Patrick Division?
Mario was a big guy, so he was never protected by referees the way Gretzky was.
Gretzky was never to be touched. But it was open season on Mario.
He came out in another galaxy in October of the 1988–89 season, producing 42 points in his first 12 games. Yeah. He was that good.
My God, their fans were so awful.
In many ways, bringing him to Pittsburgh was the greatest trade in Penguins history. He really did show the way.
He beat the shit out of me, of course. He had me throttled throughout the fight, bent over. But you know what? I showed up and I took that beating, and I kept playing. That meant a lot to my teammates. We weren’t going to be intimidated.
Then along comes Bob Johnson, who was—and I say this affectionately—a little weird, a little quirky. A little different. He wasn’t like us in any way. We knew it. But Bob just didn’t care.
We sent Johnny Cullen, Zarley Zalapski, and Jeff Parker to the Hartford Whalers for Ron Francis, Ulf Samuelsson, and Grant Jennings. Fucking wow.
This was the trade that absolutely changed everything, especially because of Ronnie. No center in the league played defense like Ronnie, and he was still a prolific offensive player to boot.
With all due respect to the fans that fill PPG Paints Arena these days, the fans back then were a little different, a little more raucous. That was a blue-collar crowd.
Don’t get me wrong; we were being physical with their best players. Bobby Errey just lit up Ray Bourque all series long. Ulfie was going after Neely all series long. Well, let me ask you something: Do you think the Bruins were going after Mario every chance they got? Of course they were. It was far worse than anything we were doing to their big guns.
We didn’t think much of Milbury,
No one still does
You must understand, Mario had total Spidey Sense.
Suddenly, the puck literally bounced off my stick and went into the net. I couldn’t believe it. He just had a little grin on his face. He literally did things like that for fun with new linemates. He was that good, and I honestly think the game bored him at times, because he could do anything he wanted. Mario enjoyed challenges like that. The point is, you always listened to him when he spoke.
Remember, we were who we were. Cowboys. Rebels. Riverboat gamblers. Wild men. Alpha men.
Those poor bastards never had a chance.
Everyone has their favorite Mario goal, and there have been so many:
The crowd was just bonkers, and I must admit I often find myself missing the way crowds were back then. It was an old-school, blue-collar Pittsburgh kind of crowd.
Here’s a sample of some things we said from the bench to Jimmy: “Thank God we traded you, you fucking fuck.”
And I looked at Rex. “Hey Rex,” I said. “We’re gonna win the Cup.” He looked over at me and smiled. “Fucking right, Bubs.”
But Mario was the guy. He was our leader and he put up 44 points in 23 games during the playoffs. Let that number register for a minute.
(It’s not always easy, by the way. I had to rent a car in San Jose in 2016 and go find one, but all’s well that ends well. The church I found was about to be closed, but a lady was working there. She told me she usually wasn’t there at that time, but that she’d let me in. I told her I had something very important to pray about. She told me to take my time. I was raised Catholic, so I went in there and prayed as hard as I could for the Pittsburgh Penguins. I lit a candle and everything.)
“Congratulations, boys. Also, we wanted to let you know, there are 10,000 fans waiting for you at Pittsburgh International Airport.”
“An update from Pittsburgh International: there are 20,000 fans waiting for you.” The plane went crazy. A few minutes later, he came on the loudspeaker again. “An update from Pittsburgh International: we are now told that 30,000 fans are waiting in the terminal for you guys.”
And wouldn’t you know it, the pilot decided to give us one more update. “An update from Pittsburgh International: you won’t believe this, but we’re now being told that 40,000 fans are waiting for you in the terminal.”
Does that fucking work? I broke so many traffic laws on my way to pick up the Cup. I was driving on curbs. I was driving through HOV lanes. I was blowing through every red light. I drove like a complete asshole on Rt. 19 all the way into Pittsburgh, and I got there in time to secure the Cup.
It was just me and the Stanley Cup. For five days. Oh my God.
Of course, this was the weekend when I may have damaged the Stanley Cup just a little bit.
So I tightened it up and basically put the Stanley Cup back together properly.
figured it wouldn’t be such a bad idea if I signed my name, too. So, I left an inscription for someone in the future to read: Enjoy it. Phil Bourque, Pittsburgh Penguins, ’91 Champs.
His famous slogan was, “It’s a great day for hockey.” And while it’s a great slogan, the truth is, Bob was about so much more than hockey. He was basically like a life coach and a hockey coach all in one beautiful package.
And yet the very fiber of the organization all goes back to Bob, his sayings, his slogans, his beliefs, his positive energy, his love for the game, his love for the Pittsburgh Penguins. It blows me away when I think about that man’s legacy.
Craig went out and got us Rick Tocchet, Ken Wregget, and Kjell Samuelsson from the Flyers. Holy shit.
Then Mario scored on his legendary bank shot, where he launched a puck off Belfour’s ass and in. Of course he did it on purpose. It was never an accident with Mario.
Jagr then tied the game with perhaps his most famous goal, weaving through the Blackhawks before beating Belfour.
was the greatest goal in history, and I promise you it was the loudest that building has ever been. Civic Arena. Mellon Arena. Consol Energy Center. PPG Paints Arena. Whatever building, in whatever era, it’s never been that loud. Not even close. It was an honor to be in the building that night. The place was literally shaking.
The 1992 Penguins were the greatest team in franchise history and proved it that spring.
The captain Sid has become reminds me of Messier. Same kind of leadership. He has the same way of taking care of people. He always had the pulse of the team in the palm of his hand.
