I don't blame the referees for making a non-call if there were a torrent of penalties already whistled. I don't blame Downey for his actions and reaction - it's what has kept him in the NHL for as long as he's been in The Show. Crosby clearly is in the right for questioning why no call was made on something pretty obvious by this observer, who had the good fortune of watching and covering the game for work.
I take issue with the manner in which the youngster brushed himself off and returned to the bench at the end of his shift - which falls squarely on the shoulders of his mentor, Mario Lemieux. It shouldn't matter if you're the NHL scoring leader, or Matthew Barnaby, or Roman Vopat; when you've been wronged and nobody caught the offense, get up, get going, and move on. No need for showing up the zebras by prolonging your agony just to stick it to the referee for not blowing the whistle.
High-sticking is an equal-opportunity offender in this age of helmets and visors - everybody gets one from time to time, whether it's deserved or not. But where do you think Sid the Kid learned the art of pissing and moaning from? Number 66, of course, who used to do the same things throughout his entire career because the officials dared not to give him a break because of his 6'4" 200+ pound frame. It's just the latest in about a half a dozen complaints from the 2005 draft pick in a season-and-a-half of NHL play about fellow players or officiating crews not catering to His Royal Highness' every whim.
In such a short period of time, he's drawn criticism from a dozen NHL head coaches, Peter Forsberg, Brendan Shanahan and Martin Brodeur for his on-ice attitude and behavior. Hell, even his own teammate, Mark Recchi, voiced his displeasure to anyone with a microphone last year about Crosby's obvious lack of respect for the game, and considered himself fortunate to have left the team for a Carolina Cup winner.
We all know he's one of the two current Golden Boys, tapped to lead the NHL into a new era of glory, but he couldn't have picked a worse mentor than Super Mario in terms of decorum. Lemieux was famous in his pre-English seasons for whimpering and gesturing and shrugging shoulders and sinking into depression at perceived non-calls and other assorted slights. In his later seasons, after his back problems and his cancer treatments, he moaned incessantly about the league's move towards "white-on-rice" defensive play, trapping and careless stickwork. Let's be honest - he had many valid points. But it was pretty clear that his complaints were less about trying to move the league forward than it was a protest from deep within his soul that he wanted the space to work because he desperately wanted an end to the battering his body took.
Still, that doesn't mean you pass on your own peeves and slights to someone who seeks your guidance. It's the downside of a father-son/mentor-student relationship that when things progress to a deeper stage, the elder tends to pass on their own doubts, fears, and grudges along with the good and valued wisdom.
Master Crosby would be wise to take a page from the quiet professionalism of his current teammate Recchi, who returned to Pittsburgh this time around in part precisely because the absence of veteran leadership on the team, plus Lemieux's on-ice absence, really could have put a kink in his progress. Recchi's career reads like a palindrome in some respects - he's been shuffled back to Philly twice and Pittsburgh three times with Montreal in the middle, traded twice in the prime of his career simply because his stats were excellent bait - and thrived long enough to score 500 goals and 1300 points and win a pair of Stanley Cups.
The root of his actions go deeper than just needing an "enforcer" to watch his back. He needs to be sufficiently respectful of the game first before anyone will be able to stick up for him. Lemieux got lucky in that he was guarded from the start by a bunch of AHL call-ups eager to win a job as well as a series of never-weres (Warren Young, Dan Frawley, Mitch Wilson, et al) before Terry Ruskowski stepped in to be the Zen Master for Mario from 1985-87. Even Wayne Gretzky had to wait three years before he gained the services of Dave Lumley and Dave Semenko, who passed on the job to Marty McSorley and Jeff Beukeboom and so on.
From now on, when someone says they can't imagine Crosby playing for any other team than the Penguins, my nod in agreement will be a vicious backhand slap. After all, what other team leader or veteran would tolerate, or even promote such behavior? Mark Messier would have had Crosby wrapped around his finger, taking out his trash, and driving his kids to school. Steve Yzerman and Joe Sakic would have just needed one long, cold, intense stare to get their point across. Mike Modano could have skated the kid into exhaustion to teach him a lesson, and Brett Hull would have shamed him with a barrage of verbiage akin to a high school bully torturing his mark in the cafeteria.
In the old days, in some quarters, one good prank in the locker room or one good hit in practice could also force Sid to see the light of day. But what else can you say to a 19-year-old whose been given the keys to the kingdom, more money than we'll see in a lifetime, and the adoration of millions?
Just please shut up and play.
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