Trevor Linden Jersey Retirement
VANCOUVER - This just won't do, all these emotions swirling around unpredictably, ready to ambush you like some rogue storm.
Lane Linden had a lump in his throat for days, like he swallowed a crabapple whole and can't get it down. And poor Edna, Lane's wife, had just about turned mute, so fearful of speaking about her son in case opening her mouth opened the floodgates and those darn emotions came forth like a dam burst.
The Lindens are stoic people by nature. Not a whole lot of group hugs and crying at the movies. They come from a place where the winters are long and difficult and the summers aren't much better if the weather's unfavorable.
They have gotten where they are on hard work and honesty and dignity.
"Stoic? Yes," Dean Linden, the eldest of the three boys, confirmed. "When we disagree, there aren't lamps flying across the room. And when we're emotional, we probably keep it to ourselves."
But not Wednesday. Not with Trevor Linden standing there at centre ice, watching through teary eyes his number and name on a banner going up towards heaven, but stopping at the rafters of General Motors Place where it will hang in perpetuity.
Not with the Vancouver Canucks, who can fairly be accused of doing a lot wrong in the 38 years since they joined the National Hockey League, getting it right by reserving the highest individual honor -- jersey retirement -- for only the most worthy, for players who over many years have impacted not only the team but its city.
Linden makes two. His mentor and first captain, Stan Smyl, had his No. 12 retired in 1991. Now, 16 hangs beside it, lifted there as the climax to a poignant, hour-long pre-game ceremony honoring Linden, the 38-year-old from Medicine Hat.
"Growing up in Medicine Hat, life was quite simple," Linden told the crowd of nearly 18,000 who arrived at GM Place 90 minutes before the Canucks played the Edmonton Oilers. "I played hockey in the winter and dreamed of being in the NHL.
"It's hard for me to express my gratitude to you. I often have people come up to me and thank me. It should be the other way around. Thank you for letting me into your lives."
Linden asked people, when they look at his banner, to think of his family and others who helped him be what he became, and to tell their children that Linden loved the game and worked hard.
"Please tell them he had the time of his life playing the game that he loved for the most incredible fans," Linden said.
And then Linden's name and number went skyward, accompanied by thunderous cheers, stirring music and tears.
"That was pretty amazing," Linden said afterward. "For me, it was just like my whole career kind of went through my head. That's kind of the end -- the final chapter."
"It's a funeral without the tragedy," Dean said. "We got to reflect on 20 years. I kind of look at it as an end, that this is over, and I feel a certain level of sadness."
He is not the only one.
Linden spent 20 years in the NHL, all but 3 1/2 of them with the Canucks. His career started and finished in Vancouver. He scored 733 points in 1,140 games for the Canucks and, revealingly, had 95 points in 118 playoff games for Vancouver. Those playoff records, like Linden's jersey, might last forever.
Yet, Linden's accomplishments as a player are the lesser half of his legacy.
He is beloved here because people saw in Linden the traits we wished we had in ourselves if only we were better: integrity, generosity, humility, compassion and courage. In a historical context, Linden was merely a very good player. But he was -- is -- a great person. Linden was an ideal come to life.
"We missed so much of it," Lane Linden said when asked about his son's connection to Vancouver. "Trev wasn't a guy to phone home and tell us what he was doing. We knew he had quite a footprint in the community. But he just did it without passing anything along."
Lane and Edna were the most important guests at the retirement extravaganza. Others included 11 former teammates from the early 1990s and NHL commissioner Gary Bettman, who told Linden during a snowy, morning ceremony to rename the Abbott Street entrance to GM Place Gate 16: "Without the strength of the leadership and the incredible courage that you showed, this league would not be where it is today."
The new gate number, falling between 4 and 6, will confuse only those with the ability to count single digits. But hopefully, through time, the entrance will become known simply as the Linden gate.
Among the Canuck alumni who attended, Martin Gelinas paid his own way from Switzerland and Gino Odjick bought a new suit for the occasion.
Linden said he is still unsure when, if at all, he will return to the NHL. He was subject to the demands of a hockey coach the last 25 years and for the first time in his life has the freedom to do whatever he wants. Which, so far, has been mostly skiing and riding his bike.
"I love the game; I think you can appreciate that," Linden said. "But I want to make sure that's the place I want to be. I'm not sure of that yet."
But Wednesday, at least, Linden was exactly where he belonged. So was his banner.
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