Housecleaning


This past week, I woke up to the news that the Penguins had fired several longtime employees. Steve Latin is the only Penguins equipment manager I’ve ever known. Say whatever you want for Rick Kehoe’s head coaching skills (not much good can be said), but the man devoted hours to helping an 18-year-old Jaromir Jagr become the player who could finish all the scoring chances he was able to create. (Put simply, Kehoe helped Jagr develop the shot that goaltenders still fear.) Yet all these people, these people who were part of the Penguins for so long, these people who were around before, during, and after the Stanley Cup runs, we’re saying goodbye to these people, too?

The last vestiges of the Mario Lemieux era and of the "glory years" of the Penguins seemed to disappear with the firings. As a Pens fan, I know the glory years really disappeared a long time ago. Yet people like Steve Latin were woven into the fabric of the identity of the Pittsburgh Penguins franchise. For better, worse, or ultimate indifference, that fabric that identified the Penguins franchise for so long has been altered.

Does any of that really mean anything? Because one could argue, for example, that Steve Latin and Rick Kehoe for many years represented the "country club" atmosphere of the Pittsburgh Penguins. Players wanted to play in Pittsburgh, the environment was loose, and players—provided they performed on the ice—were basically left to their own leisure. To more than just a minute degree, it would hardly be overstating things to say that it was the players, not the coaching staff or the management, who ran the Penguins for the decade of the 1990’s. And as a fan who grew up rooting for the Penguins throughout that decade, the "players rule" philosophy never seemed such a bad idea. The Penguins were home to the NHL’s best two players, and I witnessed 2 Stanley Cup championships, a President’s Trophy, a league-record 17 game winning streak, and many division championships, a playoff berth for several consecutive springs, and oh yes—our superstars won the league scoring title, Hart Trophy, and Pearson Award as well. The "players rule" philosophy also ensured that during the regular season, I got to watch hockey that was entertaining. My superstars turned up their noses at the clutch-and-grab style that much of the rest of the NHL embraced and always insisted on playing their game—a game of offense, taking risks and chances and often a game that resulted in a power play with the potential to click at 25% or even 30% when everyone was hot at once.

So why, despite that vague feeling of letting go and perhaps of a little bit of sadness, do I think it was probably for the best to send Latin and Kehoe packing? As a grown-up, I wonder in retrospect how much those teams laden with talent could have won and achieved if there had even been a shared players/coaching/management strategy. What if practices weren’t run only the way the players preferred but in a way that coaches—despite the objections of players—knew could have helped the team more? The "what ifs" prompted by years of the team being run as a comfortable country club are endless.

Ultimately the tension between the successes of the country club years as well as the "what ifs" of those years produces an uncomfortable dichotomy. The team probably won partially due to a loose, comfortable atmosphere, but how much more could the team have won if, well, there had actually existed a clear chain of command within that loose, comfortable atmosphere, a chain of command that didn’t begin and end with the players themselves?

Apparently Ray Shero is making changes to ensure that whatever the atmosphere he creates for Crosby, Malkin, Staal, Fleury, and other youngsters, such players will not live in the same environment as did the Mario Lemieux championship years. The same guy who fussed with the equipment of Lemieux and Jagr will not be fussing with Crosby’s equipment. On the surface, such changes can appear cosmetic, but the changes aren’t cosmetic—those changes are real, and the changes do matter.

What we don’t yet know is how such changes matter. Because frankly, I don’t care so long as the Penguins again develop into a contending team and win championships. And if that means the "old guys" have to go away—so be it. Do whatever it is that it takes to win again.

It’s just that I know my Penguins history. I know that the team was helped and harmed by the player’s rule, country club philosophy through the nineties. I also know a swing too far the other way—in the modern NHL—is not going to sit well with emerging superstars. Yet a swing too far back to the ways things used to be—particularly when such a philosophy results in losing too often—won’t sit well with emerging superstars either.

So I thank Steve Latin and others of his ilk for their years of service to the franchise. They’ll always be in the championship photos; they’ll always be woven into the fabric that is the history of the glory days. Likewise, while perhaps Jagr should be the one to say thank you to Kehoe, I’ll say thank you to Kehoe for helping Jagr in even a small way to become the dominant player I had the privilege of watching for so many years in Pittsburgh.

Yet in the moment, I’ll welcome whomever Shero, in consultation with senior hockey advisor Ed Johnston, decides to hire to replace the faces of the Penguins organization he just dismissed. Interestingly, E.J, a hockey man so old he was the GM when the Penguins traded for a still-in-his-prime Paul Coffey, is still around. Glimpses of the old guard remain, but the old guard now has to look to the future.

Who knows what kind of atmosphere will develop on the team. I don’t want to downplay the importance of atmosphere. But more than anything else, if in creating a new atmosphere, Shero is seeking to build an eventual Stanley Cup contender and champion—well, all the better. Goodbye to the old guard, and a warm welcome to the new—provided the new guard wins. If not, look out. Because who cares if players rule when players win every time out when it matters the most?
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