A New York Moment

 

People love New York. They also hate New York.

Like, hate, New York.

Tonight we had one of our moments. It was loud and obnoxious and everything that New York always is.

Madison Square Garden -- fittingly, "The World's Most Famous Arena" -- roared as Henrik Lundqvist was honored for his distinguished career with the New York Rangers.

His number 30 was raised to the rafters, concluding a ceremony that featured an eloquent speech by former Ranger Kevin Weekes, gifts from the likes of John McEnroe and others, and the presence of Lundqvist's family. Royalty also reigned with Mike Richter, Brian Leetch, Adam Graves, and Mark Messier in attendance, decked out in their blue sweaters.

As always, The Garden did a phenomenal job putting on the ceremony. There was nothing cringeworthy or painful. There were laughs, tears, and cheers.

I've attended ceremonies honoring other athletes before and have watched plenty of others. This one was tremendous.

There are some athletes I've been tough on over the years. Bernie Williams immediately springs to mind. I love Bernie but, man, I often felt like something bad was going to happen when he stepped to the plate. Obviously, it was unfair.

Same with Lundqvist. I growled at "The King" nickname. I snorted at the PR appearances. The GQ shoots. Playing guitar on Jimmy Fallon.

I just wanted a Stanley Cup.

I must also note Harold's mom Pat. She was a great Rangers fan and a huge Hank critic. I can't help but wonder what she'd think tonight.

Personally, I was touched by everything.

Oh, I knew my criticism was silly but we expect excellence, especially from some more than others. We demand it. Was some of the criticism warranted? It probably was. Sometimes I felt the media gave him a pass but, honestly, that's all in the past (see what I did there?).

I had the opportunity to be around Hank a few times. Once was at MSG against the Columbus Blue Jackets, with Greenwich's own Cam Atkinson in the building. Henrik gave up three quick goal and was pulled late in the first period.

Columbus went on to win, 4-2. 

Late in the game, I was sitting with Paul Silverfarb in the media section of the Chase Bridge and glanced at the monitor under the clear desk where I was sitting. I spied Henrik, wearing a baseball hat, on the TV feed. I snapped a picture on my phone and, Apple being Apple, the picture turned 90 degrees.

"Sideways Sad Hank" was born.

In the locker room, Henrik tended to things quietly and wasn't speaking to the press. So was his intensity.

The next time I saw him was in an interview room at Yankee Stadium following a victory in the Stadium Series against the New Jersey Devils. He was happy, charming, and answered every question.

He never stood taller than he did just a few months later, helping to guide a Rangers team to the Stanley Cup Finals against the Los Angeles Kings. While it was a competitive series, with three games going to overtime (and two to double overtime) the Kings won the series in five games.

I sat in a hotel in Meriden, CT preparing to call three baseball championships the next day.

I yelled when Alex Martinez scored off a rebound in double overtime.

Henrik just stayed down on the ice before coming to his knees. He had given everything.

Respect. Sad, but respect.

He left for Washington -- it's a business as we all sadly are reminded -- but never played a minute. Heart surgery ended his career.

No, he never won a championship. We have those who are never able to mount that last hurdle.

Ernie Banks. Ted Williams. Dan Marino. Don Mattingly. John Stockton. Jim Kelly. Ty Cobb.

Henrik Lundqvist.

Each is a legend in one form or another that never won a title.

It doesn't take away from the quality of the man or the greatness of his achievements.

He's a New York icon.

He is beloved.

He's King Henrik.

We had a New York moment tonight to honor him.