Power Play

The doors opened. I took a deep cleansing breath, put one foot in front of the other and entered the dressing room with my male peers. This was my first big surprise. It was total chaos. Being a community rink, the room was not as large or comfy as an NHL-caliber setup. There were no names over the stall areas, either, so identification of players was facial recognition only. To my wonderful surprise, the overwhelming majority of the players covered themselves with towels before and after they showered. When they dropped their towels so they could get dressed, I averted my eyes. I practiced this tactic for my entire career and became quite good at it, casually turning away as if I was looking for someone else – anyone else – to interview, or leafing through my notebook as if there were gems of quotes I needed to review right then. On this day my technique helped my breathing slow to an acceptable pace, preventing a bout of hyperventilation. How embarrassing would it be if I passed out cold on the floor of my first dressing room? My hands were still shaking like I had drunk 10 cups of coffee. And I was afraid to look around too much for fear I’d be perceived as a voyeur. I also believed my reaction to what I saw would betray the composed façade I was attempting to maintain. I decided I needed to ease into things. I gathered with other reporters to interview Head Coach Nick Polano. As my hands scribbled his responses in my notebook I began to feel more comfortable. My legs were still shaking and my nerves were still a bit frazzled but I was doing it! I shuffled along with the other reporters to interview a couple of players; I even asked a question or two. My nerves were really starting to calm down at this point and I felt as though I was kicking into a new gear. A few more minutes and I knew I could gracefully walk out of the room and give a huge internal scream of success. Then the “incident” happened. Shawn Burr was an 18-year-old forward who had just been drafted by the Wings a couple of months before. He was just about the most innocent person you could ever meet, with his wispy blond hair, wide blue eyes and broad smile. Because he was so new to the Red Wings he wasn’t on my radar as someone I might want to speak to. But as fate would have it, he was my most noteworthy “interview” that night. Shawn stepped into the main part of the dressing room from the shower area – wearing a towel, thank God. As he made his way to his stall area, his eyes looked over the room. I suppose he was taking it all in after one of his first NHL games – a dream since he was a little boy. Then his eyes fell upon me. I suppose if I were to experience the moment again I would have heard him inhale deeply before he let loose. As it was, time rolled in slow motion over the next few seconds. Shawn, jaw dropped, began shrieking like a five-year-old girl seeing her first centipede. Everything stopped except his mouth. After he ran out of air to support his scream, he inhaled again and began to babble senselessly. I’m hard-pressed to recall exactly what he said because all of the words ran together. But the overall meaning was something like: “What the hell, who the hell … You’ve got to f&#% be kidding me!” Anyone who knew this incredibly affable and vociferous man understands that Shawn’s gift of gab and hilarious runs of sentences was legendary. It could almost be called a riff, like a hockey version of Robin Williams. But at this point everyone – me, other media members and his future teammates – were just learning about his impulsive and never-ending verbal nature. Meanwhile, I felt like I was going to hurl. A couple of media members laughed. Shawn’s teammates led him away to the safety of his stall. And everyone seemed to be staring at me. I remember offering a nervous giggle, then turning tail and heading to another pack interview of a player, trying desperately to disappear into the throngs while I did my best to recover and assess what had just happened. I knew being in a locker room could be uncomfortable, but I thought all of the discomfort would be on my part. Never did I expect to be screamed at out of fear by an NHL player.