Sidney Crosby is famous for many things, one of which is his availability and patience with the sometimes unpleasant media.
For years and years, I watched Crosby sit patiently at his locker and absorb questions. A portion of these questions was more predictable and consistent than the rest. Every time the Penguins faced a player who had been selected with the No. 1 overall pick, just as Crosby had been in 2005, they would ask Crosby about comparisons and opinions on the latest big shot to enter the league.
Patrick Kane. Steven Stamkos. Juan Tavares. Taylor Hall. Ryan Nugent-Hopkins. Nail Yakupov (remember him?).
Crosby was unanimously the best player in the world at the time, but he would still be nice and enthusiastic about Draft picks. He wouldn’t get angry, that wouldn’t be the way for him. But there was a slight feeling that Crosby didn’t really like the questions. He is one of the least egotistical superstars in sports history, but to be that great, he still needs an ego. He knew that he was better than those players, although he respected them a lot. He knew he wore the crown.
In the fall of 2012, Crosby knew very well who his successor would be.
That year, the NHL was embroiled in one of its periodic work stoppages, in this case a lockout.
Players were allowed into the practice facility, but team officials were not. Crosby took on the role of media relations director. A day earlier, he was telling the media what time the Penguins players, usually about a dozen, would be training. Once, in a particularly endearing moment, the players canceled training for the next day. Then Crosby called me and asked me to tell the rest of the media not to show up. It was a very strange time for hockey and especially for Crosby, who had just lost 100 games in his prime due to a concussion. Now, he was missing more time in his prime due to a lockout.
Also due to the lockout, Crosby had a lot of time for introspection in addition to his duties as a hockey player and media relations. He also had time to pay close attention to the rest of the hockey world, a privilege he is not normally afforded in October.
Two hours north of Pittsburgh, a 15-year-old sensation had arrived in Erie, Pennsylvania: Connor McDavid was taking the Ontario Hockey League by storm. He had decided to travel to Erie with Penguins broadcaster Paul Steigerwald on Saturday, the night of McDavid’s second home game, when the Erie Otters faced the London Knights.
On the first shift of the game, McDavid split defenders Olli Määttä and Scott Harrington and then scored to cap a highlight-reel goal.
Dan Bylsma, who was then coaching the Penguins, was there. After the game, he chastised Määttä and Harrington, a pair of Penguins draft picks, for allowing that goal on the first shift of the game. After seeing the interaction, I joked to Bylsma, something like, “I don’t know, that McDavid guy is pretty good.”
Bylsma looked at me and said, “She’s 15. They shouldn’t break up like that.”
I told this story to Crosby, who asked if Bylsma really said that. Then he took my side.
“It doesn’t matter how old you are. “He’s different,” Crosby said.
Oh?
Crosby always politely answers questions about players, but he usually doesn’t go out of his way like that.
Then it occurred to me that Erie Otters games aren’t televised in Pittsburgh. I assumed Crosby had never seen McDavid play.
“I have some free time these days,” Crosby said with a smile. “I have seen it. I have seen the highlights of him.”
Is the best player in the world watching a 15-year-old hockey player’s highlights on YouTube?
“Yes,” Crosby said.
Then he said something I will never forget. Sensing that he saw something different in McDavid, I asked him if McDavid reminded him of anyone. In a non-arrogant way, Crosby said quietly, “He reminds me of me.”
Make no mistake, he admired all the players who compared him. He once told me that, if he could shoot the puck like Alex Ovechkin, it wouldn’t happen as much as he does. I once saw him shake his head when he watched Patrick Kane fight an opponent on television.
But he never anointed other players, even though he marveled.
With McDavid, stylistically, Crosby saw himself. And he saw a talent that was out of this world.
Crosby did not feel threatened. He understood that someone else always comes.
I imagine Wayne Gretzky felt the same way when he traveled to Laval, Quebec, to watch Mario Lemieux play a youth game in 1984. Lemieux, knowing Gretzky was in the building, scored four goals in the first period. At that very moment, months before even winning the Stanley Cup for the first time, Gretzky learned the identity of his successor.
During the 2012 lockout, McDavid couldn’t have known that Crosby was watching him from afar, but he was. I think there is an understanding among the greats of all time. They recognize traits that only they can recognize because only they can understand the genius necessary to be historically good.
We’re watching McDavid sweep the Stanley Cup playoffs, becoming the first player in history to post consecutive four-point games in the Stanley Cup Final. He is remarkable. He’s great for the game. A superstar is in the spotlight in his prime, something the NHL desperately needs.
Much of Crosby’s prime was stolen by the concussion and lockout. But his hockey sense and vision for it were spot on, even when he wasn’t on the ice that fall.
He always knew that McDavid was the successor, that he played the same way, that perhaps his physical gifts even surpassed his.
He was right. McDavid is in a class with Gretzky, Lemieux, Crosby and Bobby Orr. And now, we wait to see if McDavid can pull off this seismic comeback and win a championship.
Crosby will surely be watching. She always has been.
(Photo: Codie McLachlan//Keynote USA/Getty Images)
Keynote USA
For the Latest Sports News, Follow Keynote USA Sports on Twitter.