Brian Leetch redefined class, both as a player and a person.
He also redefined inimitable; as in "one of a kind."
If there was any doubt about that point, it was underscored over and over again last night during the festivities that went unmatched in my half-century career as a hockey-watcher.
Forget about the array of stars -- Mark Messier, Rod Gilbert, Mike Richter, et. al. -- it was simply a vintage Leetch performance, from his remarkably poised speech in The Garden's main arena to the more intimate confines of a packed WaMu Theater, where the future Hall of Fame defenseman greeted more fans after the second period.
"It's great to be back in The Garden," said Brian, surrounded by his loving family, "because you never know when you're going to hear those cheers again when you retire."
What made this night so special for me was the manner in which Leetch presented himself and articulated his thoughts. It was as smooth as a patented Leetch rush up the ice, culminating with a goal.
His speech just knocked me out.
You see, Brian and I had been together at the Lester Patrick Award fete last November. About an hour before the festivities started, he pulled me aside and whispered in my ear.
"I'm not planning to make much of a speech myself," he said, intuitively knowing that I had a lot to say, but was being given limited time. "Why don't you take some of my minutes."
It was very kind of Brian and I accepted his offer.
Leetch was true to his word; he didn't deliver quantity in his acceptance address then, but it was filled with quality and uttered without the need for notes.
That set me wondering how he would handle the MSG affair, where nearly 19,000 fans would be eagerly watching, perhaps awaiting Messier-like tears flowing like wine.
Remarkably, Brian cruised through his talk last night -- again without notes -- never missing a beat, never forgetting a point, never once breaking down emotionally. It was perfection-plus, in execution and content.
And it was so sensitive. Always, he was thinking of his children: Daughter, Riley; son, Jack; and the littlest lad, two-year-old Sean, who Brian held so tenderly.
I was reminded again of the Patrick affair where my five-year-old grandson, Ezra, sat at our family table through the lengthy festivities. Time and again, I glanced over at him to see if he was getting out of sorts, but Ezra was a trooper throughout and I was so proud of him.
Leetch echoed my feelings when he said, "I was so proud for my kids for getting through it and not causing a fuss."
Ironically, it was Brian who caused the fuss when -- to the amazement of just about everyone -- he declared that Adam Graves would be the next Ranger to have his number retired. The ceremony will be held next season.
Stunned to the very core, Graves appeared to have a momentary case of lockjaw when he heard the announcement. Needless to say, The Garden went bananas with that one.
Then again, they were going bananas at the WaMu Theater long before Sam Rosen hushed the arena audience to launch Leetch Night.
My buddy, Al Trautwig, and I were to work the WaMu as part of a special "Hockey Night Live" show before the ceremonies and during the Thrashers-Rangers game.
I got to the Theater good and early and was amazed at the large turnout and fan fervor. I never had so much fun taking pictures with the fans, schmoozing with them and signing more autographs than I ever did in my life.
Jokingly, I turned to an usher and said, "I can't believe that so many Rangers fans came out to see ME!"
Al and I opened our interviews with Mike Richter -- as special as they come -- followed by such terrific folks as Gilbert, Brian Mullen and Jeff Beukeboom.
The laugh riot of all was Tie Domi. When I asked him which fight he remembered best, Tie shot back: "On or off the ice!"
Domi recounted his classic bouts with Bob Probert, telling us how former NHL president Gil Stein had once forewarned them not to fight, under threat of a long suspension.
"In the middle of the next game, Probie says to me, 'Let's go (fight)' and I said to him, 'Are you crazy; don't you remember what Stein said?' But we went anyway."
Ron Greschner -- in my estimation the most underrated Rangers defenseman of all-time -- also sat with us, as did another classic No. 2, Brad Park, whose only debit was that he played in the same era as Bobby Orr.
The best of all was the end-of-second-period session we had with Leetch and Messier.
When I asked Brian what he planned to do, hockey-wise, in the near future, the fans began a deafening chant, "ONE MORE YEAR, ONE MORE YEAR!"
They wanted him back. To be honest, so did (do) I because we simply can't get enough of the man.
And for one very simple, yet eloquent, reason: He is Brian Leetch.
Truly, one of a kind.
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