Two decades, one Cup

It's the stuff of myth and magic, of drama and determination, of heartbreak mixed with hope.

The script has yet to be completed, but the prospect of its fulfillment stirs the heart of every hockey fan outside New Jersey, and of every sports fan who's bothered to pay attention to hockey over the years.

Ray Bourque, a man who has done his job surpassingly well for two decades straight, has never tasted championship glory. Some legends have failed to sip from the cup--pardon the expression--of ultimate victory, but few have chased their dreams as long as Bourque has. John Stockton, at 39, comes to mind as a uniquely similar contemporary of Bourque's: a man who has plied his trade well, earned the respect of those around him, and all with little fanfare or controversy... for a long, long time.

People who know their sports, and who respect the people who play them--two things that go hand in hand--realize that failing to win a championship, or perhaps more appropriately, doing everything but winning a championship, does not reflect on the quality of the athlete, but on the quality of his teams. After all, no one would say that Trent Dilfer, by virtue of a Super Bowl victory, is a better quarterback than the ringless Dan Marino. That's but one example of how the championship argument has its limits, if not its outright fallacies.

Now that Bourque is on the verge of reaching the promised land at a Moses-like stage of his athletic career, the fact that his Colorado Avalanche are going up against the machine known as the New Jersey Devils makes the classic script surrounding Bourque all the more attractive.

The last time Bourque played in the Stanley Cup Finals, his Boston Bruins had to go through the best--Wayne Gretzky, Mark Messier, Jari Kurri, and the Edmonton Oilers (albeit with Bill Ranford and not Grant Fuhr). One of the best defensement to ever lace up the skates was denied hockey's biggest prize by the sport's greatest all-around player. While the pain of losing was enormous, the fact that it came against the best made the setback easier to take and more honorable in a literary and dramatic context.

As Bourque and the Avs face the Devils, who just smothered two guys named Lemieux (not Claude...) and Jagr, it's once again apparent that Bourque will once again have to beat the best to win the elusive Stanley Cup. Therein lies an even fuller measure of the story that will be written beginning Saturday in Denver. It's not just Ray Bourque chasing a title. It's Bourque having to surmount the biggest, baddest, toughest obstacle imaginable to get to that elevated, exalted and transcendent moment: skating around the ice, kissing and clutching the big, layered bowl.

It's important to remember, then, that no matter how this series turns out, Ray Bourque is a winner. Cliche, you say? Mushy, sentimental, feel-good garbage?

I say that's the very kind of thing right-minded parents teach their sons and daughters about sports and other forms of competition. It's supposed to really MEAN something when you do your best, regardless of a final outcome that, to a definite extent, is out of your control.

Just the same, it's supposed to mean something when a Ray Bourque, a John Stockton, a Dan Marino, or an Ernie Banks plays with great distinction in the arena and carries himself with class and dignity away from it.

The shouts for joy will surely be deafening of Bourque clutches the Cup. But if the work of the Devil(s) keeps him from his victory skatearound, don't think any less of Ray Bourque as an athlete.

In the meantime, lose yourself in the power and drama of the Ray Bourque story. Scripts like his are familiar, but not commonplace--that, in the end, is why human beings invest so much time, energy, passion and thought into the discussion and analysis of fundamentally trivial athletic contests.