Remembering Claude Lemieux | FEATURE

If there ever was a New Jersey Devil who deserved the nickname "Mister Clutch" it was Claude Lemieux.

I saw this without reservation and with my own eyes in a Stanley Cup playoff game in Philadelphia, the year 1995. 

It was the third period, the game was tied 2-2 and, quite naturally, the capacity crowd was roaring its throats dry for the Broad Street Bullies.

Me? I was doing my television commentary for the Devils. My location was in the midst of enemy territory. I was standing behind the glass directly behind the Devils net occupied by Martin Brodeur. 

Later—because Marty couldn't possibly know what would happen—Brodeur would say, "If anyone could have delivered the big goal for us it was Claude."

But it didn't look like anything of the sort would happen. The Flyers had their "push" on and the puck was deep in the Visitors zone. Rooting for New Jersey, of course, I took a step or two closer to the glass when Lemieux snared the puck.

"At the time nobody had a clue what Pepe would do," said Devils' fan Noam Kogen, watching the play develop on his television screen in his Manhattan apartment.

Nor did The Maven have any idea how a play could be constructed. The reason for that was Lemieux's poor geography. He was along the right boards as he moved toward the Devils' blue line too far from Flyers' goalie Ron Hextall in the distance. 

"The feeling," remembered MSG Networks' aide Leo Scaglione, Jr., now a part of the Devils' TV production team, "was that not much would come of whatever Claude had in mind at the time."

From my vantage point behind the glass which was behind Brodeur, I figured that the only play was for Claude simply to dump the disk into the Flyers' zone and get a line change. That explains why I got antsy when he continued into center ice No Man's Land.

There was less than a minute left in the 2-2 game when Lemieux made his decision. "He was surprised," wrote Tim Sullivan in his book Battle On The Hudson, "he had so much room in a tight game. Just beyond the blue line he let off a slap shot."

I was stunned and wondered why he'd waste what seemed like a rudimentary move designed to
bring about a line change. I watched as it headed goalward and cursed to myself because goalie Hextall had a clear view of the six-ounce hunk of vulcanized rubber. 

The shot seemed like an easy save and Hextall thrust his left skate for what seemed to be what we liked to say, "a kick save and a beauty." 

But, to the stunned onlookers there was a "kick," all right but no save. Hextall's timing was off but not the puck's. It hit the twine with 44.2 seconds remaining.

Sullivan: "Lemieux jumped up in the air with both skates and threw his arms up to the ceiling as the Devils won 3-2."

John Davidson on the Fox telecast: "It was a perfect shot by Lemieux."

That, in itself, is an accurate appraisal but there is more to say about it.

And one of those things is that Claude Lemieux's shot and goal laid the foundation for New Jersey's hockey dynasty; and here's the how and why of it:

1. IMMEDIATE IMPACT: The win proved to be the impetus and motivation for the series-clinching Game Six in New Jersey.
2. CONFIDENCE: Lemieux's winner infused the team with the confidence that it could defeat any team.
3. THE NICKNAME: Many praises and deserved encomiums were heaped on Claude; among the most accurate, Mr. Reliable. 
4. CONCLUSION: Claude Lemieux—as much as anyone—paved the way for the New Jersey Devils' first Stanley Cup!

A Very Personal View:

My very first encounter with Claude Lemieux took place shortly after he joined the Devils.

I was assigned to do a feature on him for our pre-game show and met the new forward at his home.

Immediately, he exuded a special aura of happiness and, seeing me and my crew, an eagerness to help make it a good segment.

That was evident with his remarkable candor and warmth. "Before you guys go," I remember him telling us, "I want to show you something that might interest you."

With that, Claude directed us to what amounted to an annex to the house. "This," he proudly pointed out, "is my workshop. I love carpentry and to do things with wood."

He showed us around, pointing out items on which he was working.

"This is how I relax away from the rink," he concluded.

It was the first of innumerable interviews we did over the years and which never will be forgotten.

The Maven mourns the loss of a dear friend; a remarkable athlete and very, very special human being.

R.I.P. Pal.