(6 of 12)
The Oilers are at home. Temporarily down to a solitary goaltender, awaiting a replacement from the minor leagues, they have recruited an Edmonton policeman, Floyd Whitney, for a practice session. "You're the target today, eh?" one of the stubbly giants greets Whitney reassuringly, as the Stanley Cup champions slide sleepily onto their indoor pond. Despite a proliferation of Europeans, hockey players still tend to be white, toothless Canadians from small, picturesque places, who skated to grammar school on iced-over footpaths until diverted during high school to the big city, where they enjoy drinking beer and occasionally throwing each other through plate glass windows.
Once slicing along at practice, the Oilers are awakened in every way. Though the lively pace of the scrimmage seems only slightly less dangerous than a regular game, helmets have been discarded, and the blush of exhilaration shows on all of their faces but glows on Gretzky's. Inoffensively, he laughs aloud at the successful plays, and drops his long jaw and howls at the blunders, drawing happy curses all around. Wimp does not fairly describe his 5-ft. 11- in., 170-lb. appearance in this bulky company, but it comes to mind. Almost every shot Gretzky takes, Officer Whitney snares in his first-baseman's mitt, an astonishment that the goalie explains later with a chagrined smile: "I didn't even see some of them. He was aiming for my glove."
Near the end of the session, Gretzky slips into a corner and vanishes. Concentrating on Finnish-born Right-Winger Jari Kurri, the Oilers' and the league's second leading scorer, Whitney half-steps out of the mouth of the goal to minimize Kurri's angle, and just then a puck plunks off his back into the net. Whitney says, "If you take your eye off Gretzky, he'll bank it off your skate, your back, your helmet, your wife. I could hang a nickel in the net, and he'd hit it every time." As majestic as the sight of Orr full bore used to be, at least he appeared out of somewhere.
Exactly in the manner of the Celtics, the Oilers came through a humiliating four-game sweeping two seasons ago by the four-time champion New York Islanders. Gretzky, who, Coach Glen Sather says, "scores goals nobody else even dreams about," scored none in the series, and his dreams were disturbed - for a summer. The first goal he finally got in the five-game rematch last year was a backhander. "I enjoy hockey even more now that I can say I'm a champion," he says. "To be champion changes everything, just the way you feel about coming to the rink. Many a time I've stared and stared at the Stanley Cup."
He expresses more than just respect, a fondness for Mike Bossy, Bryan Trottier and especially Denis Potvin of the crumbling Islander dynasty. Mimicking strikeout Pitchers Steve Carlton and Nolan Ryan, Bossy and Gretzky pass the three-goal hat-trick record to and fro. But Gretzky is most conscious of the defenseman Potvin, and not only because Potvin is one of those formidable superstructures whose presence on any side of the ice sends the pacifists to the other. Two years ago, in a slip that irritated New York fans, Gretzky referred to the Montreal Canadiens as hockey's greatest team when he meant its most storied organization. No Canadian misunderstood, as Potvin was gracious enough to explain on television, winning Gretzky's gratitude.