Game 7 in Hockeytown Is Hockey Heaven

DETROIT – Sure, the flying octopi help. So do the throngs of rabid fans wearing jerseys ringed in the color of blood, and a no-nonsense building that doesn't require fancy bells and whistles in order to rock, and old-school rituals that get passed down like success.

As Red Wings coach Mike Babcock was saying Thursday, on the eve of one of the grandest, coolest spectacles in sports, this city is a part "of Canada that just got lost ... and these people love hockey, absolutely love hockey."

Former great Ted Lindsay, born on the cusp of the Great Depression, makes a point of stopping by for team meetings before each round, plopping down in his stall in the dressing room. Legends roam the halls, from Gordie Howe to Steve Yzerman. Players here retire, or maybe they get traded, or go elsewhere for a salary bump, but few ever really shed the thrill that comes with lacing it up for Hockeytown, USA.

There is no exact reason why Detroit is so invincible at Joe Louis Arena, especially come crunch time in the spring. It's all the above – the tradition instilled in players and fans combine to turn The Joe into something akin to the old Yankee Stadium, ice replacing the interlocking NY – and it sure doesn't hurt that the Wings have excellent management, scouting and coaching.

But lately another reason has popped into the conversation. This season, the Wings are 11-2 at the Joe in the playoffs, hardly a statistical anomaly. This season, goalie Chris Osgood has picked a fine time to hit an extraordinary peak, hardly a vision his many detractors thought they'd ever witness.

There might not be a more scrutinized position in Detroit sports than netminder for the Red Wings. Playing quarterback for the Lions is right up there on the list of things that drive Detroit batty, but the Lions are so wretched, failure is mostly expected. The Wings are such a consistently ominous force, when they hit a rough patch much of the blame lands at the goalie's pads.

"It's true. It's not fair, but it's true," said Steve Yzerman, a man who understands the city's sporting soul. He spent 23 seasons here on the front lines, amassing Stanley Cup rings, and now he's a Detroit executive forming the link to greatness. "The thing is, this is a team that seems to always have great nerves of steel. We need our goalie to have as strong a will to win as anyone, and Chris has that. He's been criticized a lot, but as far as I've seen he rarely lets the criticism really get to him."

Osgood already has three championship rings (two earned as the starting goalie), but Friday's Game 7 of the Finals against the Pittsburgh Penguins might be the moment that truly defines him. The NHL couldn't have scripted a finer postseason, and now we have a repeat of last year's title series, two blue collar cities playing a final game for the oldest trophy in North America. Both clubs represent hard-nosed, lunch-pail hockey, complemented by the requisite flash.

More than anyone, Osgood knows there's little room to flinch.

The Penguins' flying circus is a floundering1-5 at The Joe the past two postseasons, but Osgood thinks that's another one of those stats to be thrown out with the bath water. Pittsburgh's two young stars haven't done much again him, just another sidebar Osgood would rather ignore. Sidney Crosby and Evgeni Malkin have combined to score only three goals in the Finals, and the last time the Penguins skated at The Joe they were knocked down like tomato cans. These are more facts that cause Osgood to yawn.

"None of that matters. It might be good for the fans to talk about or you to write about, but we're not thinking like that," he said. "That's the great thing about Game 7s. All the nonsense gets wiped away. It's win or go home, pretty simple."

The best player on the best team in the hockey since the regular season closed up shop hasn't always been so sanguine. Osgood was one of the few Red Wings to play with desperation in Tuesday's Game 6 loss to Pittsburgh, performing on a level as high as he ever has for the reigning Stanley Cup champs. There are plenty of hockey people who think Osgood is the lone reason the young guns from Pittsburgh haven't already swiped the silver chalice .

This, for the goalie who was discarded by the New York Islanders – the Islanders! – and the St. Louis Blues. Around those indignities, Osgood sandwiched stints with the Wings, first as a draft pick in 1991, later as a free agent hoping a return to the mother ship would strengthen his commitment to reinventing himself. Everything began to click last postseason after Osgood replaced a struggling Dominik Hasek in Game 4 of the first-round series against Nashville. Osgood righted the ship, the Red Wings rattled off nine straight playoff wins, and Osgood was only brilliant the rest of the way.

But minding the net has its tedious moments, those long stretches of time when the puck can't stop bouncing around the opposite end. That's Detroit's flaw: sometimes its forwards are so good at their jobs, Osgood's pads grow cobwebs. He gave up a few soft goals during the regular season, got razzed more than once by a home crowd nursed on excellence, and was finally ordered by management to take a temporary, mid-February break and get his head on straight.

"Very unusual," said Yzerman. "It's not like he did something illegal or even wrong. He just needed to get back mentally in the game. He's admitted the playoffs last year took a lot out of him -- they took a lot out of everybody -- and maybe there were some games in the middle of this winter when he let his mind drift."

It might be a coincidence that Babcock, in his fourth season behind the Wings' bench, calls this the "hardest year I've ever had in coaching." It might be a coincidence that Osgood can be doing something mundane -- standing in the grocery checkout line, watching the Tigers on TV, sleeping -- and he hears his coach's voice barking out instructions.

But probably not.

"I guess we needed to put each other through some rough times," Osgood said with a chuckle, "to get where we are now."

The Red Wings need one more win to collect their fifth Cup in a dozen years, to etch their place in sports' pantheon of greatness. They can do it in throwback temple called The Joe, for a city struggling to rise above economic despair.

"This is where we work. This is where we live. It's our fans, it's our city," said Babcock, elucidating Detroit's home-ice advantage with a few short sentences. He might have added "and this is our goalie," toeing the crease with all the other legends.