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When he takes to the ice tonight at The Canadian Tire Centre, one week shy of his 42nd birthday, Daniel Alfredsson will bring down the curtain on an improbable NHL career.
As a draft-eligible junior in Sweden, he was so little regarded that he was passed over by every team in the NHL. It wasn’t until he was 22 years old and a forward in the Swedish Elite League that the Ottawa Senators plucked him out of the sixth round, 133rd overall. He was — like everyone else chosen so late in the 1994 draft — a gamble, a long shot, a hunch.
“We liked what we saw, but he was a little undersized,” remembers then Senators GM Randy Sexton. “It was no slam dunk that he was going to play in the NHL.”
Alfredsson will retire Thursday with more NHL goals (444) and more points (1,157) than anyone else selected in that year’s draft.
Even more improbably, this quiet, private man from Gothenburg, Sweden will retire as the most beloved hockey player in the modern history of the Ottawa Senators: an icon in a city still coming to terms with its Alfie obsession.
What was it that made him the repository of so much emotion — so much pride, adulation and heartbreak — in a city known for its polite reserve? Why do we still choke up at the sight of him? Just what does Alfie really mean?
Everyone has a theory.
“He was everything that was good and right with hockey,” says Sue Priddle, one of the fans who weighed in on the meaning of Alfie on the Citizen’s Facebook page this week.
Alfie possessed qualities to which we all aspire: he was humble, hard-working, and sometimes, heroic. When the Senators needed an overtime goal in May 2007 to send them to the Stanley Cup final, it was Alfredsson who snaked his way into the Buffalo Sabres’ zone, and threaded a puck past goalie Ryan Miller.
“He was the guy who could always get it done when we needed him most,” says Tina Dubé, another longtime Sens fan.
That’s not just hagiography: Alfredsson owns more than twice as many game-winning goals (69) as any other Senator.
Even when he was not part of the deciding drama, Alfredsson invested games with effort and intelligence. How else does a player of such middling size and speed — a 5’11,” 200-pound winger — own every meaningful record in Senators history: most goals, assists, points, power-play goals, short-handed goals, game winners. His career plus-minus is second only to Wade Redden (honest, look it up).
Ottawa has had other star players: Redden, Alexei Yashin, Marian Hossa, Zdeno Chara, Jason Spezza, Dany Heatley, Alexei Kovalev, Dominik Hasek. Some will be fondly remembered; some will be reviled. None of them will ever hold a candle to Alfie.
Alfie was the city’s first bona fide hockey hero. His arrival coincided with the team’s emergence as a playoff contender — success that made us forget the disappointment of Alexandre Daigle and the petulance of Yashin, whom Alfredsson displaced as captain.
Alfie was the anti-Yashin — steady, collegial, committed. Yes, there were disappointments along the way, particularly in the post-season when the Leafs were involved. But Alfie didn’t demand a trade to a city where hockey mattered less: he faced the failures, answered his critics, and re-dedicated himself to a Stanley Cup run.
Alfredsson’s style of play endeared him both to the cognoscenti and the casual fan. Responsible in both ends of the ice, he could deliver a check, make a slick cross-ice pass, and one-time a perfect slapshot — all on the same shift. He was industrious and creative. It meant that any fan could find something to admire in his game.
His hairstyles, too, were entertaining. There was the pageboy, the mullet, the close-crop, and the Krusty, which hinted at the clown within. It was this inner clown that forever villainized him in Toronto when he pretended to throw his broken stick into the stands — a move that had cost Leafs captain Mats Sundin, Alfie’s friend and Tre Kronor teammate, a one-game suspension.
“I was trying to make a joke,” Alfie would later explain. “But it was bad timing.” Humourless Toronto fans booed him at every turn.
In 17 seasons with the Senators, Alfie suffered all kinds of injuries: concussions, torn knee ligaments, abdominal injuries, hip flexors. He had recurring trouble with his shoulders and back. That he played at such a high level for so long is a marvel — and a testament to his dedication in the weight room.
“His work ethic was beyond belief,” says Sexton, now a member of the Pittsburgh Penguins organization. “The only players that I’ve been around who have a work ethic like Daniel Alfredsson are Sidney Crosby and Marian Hossa. His commitment to being as good as he was capable of being was in another stratosphere.”
Alfie captained the team through 13 years of turbulence: the team bankruptcy, the Ray Emery circus, the Dany Heatley trade. He played for nine coaches, including three in one season.
Although a soft-spoken leader, he could be bracingly honest. Asked to respond to then coach Cory Clouston’s pronouncement that the team needed to work harder, Aflie demurred. “I don’t agree with that at all, to be honest,” he said. “In some games, I can understand it looks that way, but to say that about us, especially lately, I can’t agree with that at all.”
In the 2013 playoffs, with the Pittsburgh Penguins holding a 3-1 series lead over a young Sens squad, Alfie was asked if his team could win three straight. “Probably not,” he admitted. “I mean with their depth and power play right now it doesn’t look too good for us.”
It was Alfie being Alfie. He was never a cardboard cut-out. “What you see is what you get,” he once explained. “I’m an honest guy; I mean the best for the team.”
On his Twitter feed, Alfie describes himself as “an athlete and family man” and there can be no doubt that these twin passions define him.
He grew up the intensely competitive son of Hasse Alfredsson, a carpenter who served as his coach for the first 10 years of his hockey life. At seven, young Alfie announced in a school essay that he wanted to be a pro hockey player; few people, least of all his father, thought it a realistic goal. But there was no doubting the boy’s drive, the fire that burned behind those deep-set blue eyes. It was there to see in every game he played: hockey, soccer, golf, tennis, ping pong.
His mother, Margareta, suffered from multiple sclerosis and Alfie was inspired by her determination. “Daniel can be very stubborn and he gets that from his mother,” his father once said in explaining his son’s NHL success.
His family also inspired him off the ice. Alfie’s sister, Cecelia, lives with an anxiety disorder and it’s in her honour that he agreed to lead a public awareness campaign launched by the Royal Ottawa Foundation for Mental Health in 2008. It was an uncommonly public-minded act for an athlete.
“He showed real courage when he lent his name to the ‘You Know Who I Am’ campaign,” says Senators’ public address announcer, “Stuntman” Stu Schwartz.
Ottawa radio host Katherine Dines says Alfie’s involvement with the campaign inspired her to speak out about her own challenges with mental illness. “He helped many of us feel hope during some of our darkest days,” she says. “When I was cheering for him during a Sens game, it was about a lot more than hockey.”
A married father of four boys, Alfie lived year-round in Ottawa and became part of the community. Many encountered him at local hockey rinks, or on family outings to The Home Depot or Ikea. A gentleman superstar, he was unfailingly polite even if a little mystified by the ardour of his fans.
During the 2012 playoffs, former Carleton Place resident Neil Duffy travelled with another decked-out Sens fan to New York to watch what turned out to be a Game 7 loss to the Rangers. After the game, they applauded as the Senators boarded a team bus. Some players waved. Alfie was the only one who walked over to greet them, thank them for their support, and pose for photos.
“In defeat, you see the true character,” Duffy says.
Alfie never let us down until he did.
His departure for Detroit, at the end of a contract dispute, made everyone in the city come to terms with the inequity of hero worship. No professional hockey player, it turns out, has to bear the burden of our hopes and dreams and adulation at a discount.
The sad hangover from that event makes it hard to imagine how anyone else will forge such an unalloyed connection with Senators fans. Today’s team captain Erik Karlsson — another undersized Swede — has star power and Hall of Fame skill, but does anyone think he’ll finish his career here? If Alfie can leave, why not Karlsson? Aflie’s exit ensures no one will suspend disbelief again.
So what then is the meaning of Alfie?
Ultimately, Alfie is a journey, an affair of the heart. Alfie allowed us into his life as he staged the drama of his career. An unpretentious leading man, he was honest and open and accessible. We applauded his work ethic, rejoiced at his scoring touch, and fell in love with his decency.
That he found a way to return to Ottawa to retire from the NHL only reinforces what we always knew about him, deep down. It means the journey that Alfie shared with us will be celebrated tonight in all of its imperfect glory.
查看原文...
As a draft-eligible junior in Sweden, he was so little regarded that he was passed over by every team in the NHL. It wasn’t until he was 22 years old and a forward in the Swedish Elite League that the Ottawa Senators plucked him out of the sixth round, 133rd overall. He was — like everyone else chosen so late in the 1994 draft — a gamble, a long shot, a hunch.
“We liked what we saw, but he was a little undersized,” remembers then Senators GM Randy Sexton. “It was no slam dunk that he was going to play in the NHL.”
Alfredsson will retire Thursday with more NHL goals (444) and more points (1,157) than anyone else selected in that year’s draft.
Even more improbably, this quiet, private man from Gothenburg, Sweden will retire as the most beloved hockey player in the modern history of the Ottawa Senators: an icon in a city still coming to terms with its Alfie obsession.
What was it that made him the repository of so much emotion — so much pride, adulation and heartbreak — in a city known for its polite reserve? Why do we still choke up at the sight of him? Just what does Alfie really mean?
Everyone has a theory.
“He was everything that was good and right with hockey,” says Sue Priddle, one of the fans who weighed in on the meaning of Alfie on the Citizen’s Facebook page this week.
Alfie possessed qualities to which we all aspire: he was humble, hard-working, and sometimes, heroic. When the Senators needed an overtime goal in May 2007 to send them to the Stanley Cup final, it was Alfredsson who snaked his way into the Buffalo Sabres’ zone, and threaded a puck past goalie Ryan Miller.
“He was the guy who could always get it done when we needed him most,” says Tina Dubé, another longtime Sens fan.
That’s not just hagiography: Alfredsson owns more than twice as many game-winning goals (69) as any other Senator.
Even when he was not part of the deciding drama, Alfredsson invested games with effort and intelligence. How else does a player of such middling size and speed — a 5’11,” 200-pound winger — own every meaningful record in Senators history: most goals, assists, points, power-play goals, short-handed goals, game winners. His career plus-minus is second only to Wade Redden (honest, look it up).
Ottawa has had other star players: Redden, Alexei Yashin, Marian Hossa, Zdeno Chara, Jason Spezza, Dany Heatley, Alexei Kovalev, Dominik Hasek. Some will be fondly remembered; some will be reviled. None of them will ever hold a candle to Alfie.
Alfie was the city’s first bona fide hockey hero. His arrival coincided with the team’s emergence as a playoff contender — success that made us forget the disappointment of Alexandre Daigle and the petulance of Yashin, whom Alfredsson displaced as captain.
Alfie was the anti-Yashin — steady, collegial, committed. Yes, there were disappointments along the way, particularly in the post-season when the Leafs were involved. But Alfie didn’t demand a trade to a city where hockey mattered less: he faced the failures, answered his critics, and re-dedicated himself to a Stanley Cup run.
Alfredsson’s style of play endeared him both to the cognoscenti and the casual fan. Responsible in both ends of the ice, he could deliver a check, make a slick cross-ice pass, and one-time a perfect slapshot — all on the same shift. He was industrious and creative. It meant that any fan could find something to admire in his game.
His hairstyles, too, were entertaining. There was the pageboy, the mullet, the close-crop, and the Krusty, which hinted at the clown within. It was this inner clown that forever villainized him in Toronto when he pretended to throw his broken stick into the stands — a move that had cost Leafs captain Mats Sundin, Alfie’s friend and Tre Kronor teammate, a one-game suspension.
“I was trying to make a joke,” Alfie would later explain. “But it was bad timing.” Humourless Toronto fans booed him at every turn.
In 17 seasons with the Senators, Alfie suffered all kinds of injuries: concussions, torn knee ligaments, abdominal injuries, hip flexors. He had recurring trouble with his shoulders and back. That he played at such a high level for so long is a marvel — and a testament to his dedication in the weight room.
“His work ethic was beyond belief,” says Sexton, now a member of the Pittsburgh Penguins organization. “The only players that I’ve been around who have a work ethic like Daniel Alfredsson are Sidney Crosby and Marian Hossa. His commitment to being as good as he was capable of being was in another stratosphere.”
Alfie captained the team through 13 years of turbulence: the team bankruptcy, the Ray Emery circus, the Dany Heatley trade. He played for nine coaches, including three in one season.
Although a soft-spoken leader, he could be bracingly honest. Asked to respond to then coach Cory Clouston’s pronouncement that the team needed to work harder, Aflie demurred. “I don’t agree with that at all, to be honest,” he said. “In some games, I can understand it looks that way, but to say that about us, especially lately, I can’t agree with that at all.”
In the 2013 playoffs, with the Pittsburgh Penguins holding a 3-1 series lead over a young Sens squad, Alfie was asked if his team could win three straight. “Probably not,” he admitted. “I mean with their depth and power play right now it doesn’t look too good for us.”
It was Alfie being Alfie. He was never a cardboard cut-out. “What you see is what you get,” he once explained. “I’m an honest guy; I mean the best for the team.”
On his Twitter feed, Alfie describes himself as “an athlete and family man” and there can be no doubt that these twin passions define him.
He grew up the intensely competitive son of Hasse Alfredsson, a carpenter who served as his coach for the first 10 years of his hockey life. At seven, young Alfie announced in a school essay that he wanted to be a pro hockey player; few people, least of all his father, thought it a realistic goal. But there was no doubting the boy’s drive, the fire that burned behind those deep-set blue eyes. It was there to see in every game he played: hockey, soccer, golf, tennis, ping pong.
His mother, Margareta, suffered from multiple sclerosis and Alfie was inspired by her determination. “Daniel can be very stubborn and he gets that from his mother,” his father once said in explaining his son’s NHL success.
His family also inspired him off the ice. Alfie’s sister, Cecelia, lives with an anxiety disorder and it’s in her honour that he agreed to lead a public awareness campaign launched by the Royal Ottawa Foundation for Mental Health in 2008. It was an uncommonly public-minded act for an athlete.
“He showed real courage when he lent his name to the ‘You Know Who I Am’ campaign,” says Senators’ public address announcer, “Stuntman” Stu Schwartz.
Ottawa radio host Katherine Dines says Alfie’s involvement with the campaign inspired her to speak out about her own challenges with mental illness. “He helped many of us feel hope during some of our darkest days,” she says. “When I was cheering for him during a Sens game, it was about a lot more than hockey.”
A married father of four boys, Alfie lived year-round in Ottawa and became part of the community. Many encountered him at local hockey rinks, or on family outings to The Home Depot or Ikea. A gentleman superstar, he was unfailingly polite even if a little mystified by the ardour of his fans.
During the 2012 playoffs, former Carleton Place resident Neil Duffy travelled with another decked-out Sens fan to New York to watch what turned out to be a Game 7 loss to the Rangers. After the game, they applauded as the Senators boarded a team bus. Some players waved. Alfie was the only one who walked over to greet them, thank them for their support, and pose for photos.
“In defeat, you see the true character,” Duffy says.
Alfie never let us down until he did.
His departure for Detroit, at the end of a contract dispute, made everyone in the city come to terms with the inequity of hero worship. No professional hockey player, it turns out, has to bear the burden of our hopes and dreams and adulation at a discount.
The sad hangover from that event makes it hard to imagine how anyone else will forge such an unalloyed connection with Senators fans. Today’s team captain Erik Karlsson — another undersized Swede — has star power and Hall of Fame skill, but does anyone think he’ll finish his career here? If Alfie can leave, why not Karlsson? Aflie’s exit ensures no one will suspend disbelief again.
So what then is the meaning of Alfie?
Ultimately, Alfie is a journey, an affair of the heart. Alfie allowed us into his life as he staged the drama of his career. An unpretentious leading man, he was honest and open and accessible. We applauded his work ethic, rejoiced at his scoring touch, and fell in love with his decency.
That he found a way to return to Ottawa to retire from the NHL only reinforces what we always knew about him, deep down. It means the journey that Alfie shared with us will be celebrated tonight in all of its imperfect glory.
查看原文...
