March 11th, 2000 was a fateful day for the Toronto Maple Leafs, especially one Leaf in particular. Bryan Berard was a happy-go-lucky defenceman playing for the Toronto Maple Leafs. At 23 years of age, he was in the midst of a crucial development period in his career. When he played well, he dazzled everyone in the arena; when he didn't play well, he heard it from the crowd, his teammates, and especially the coaching staff. The criticism did not last long, however, in just seconds of his next shift, Bryan Berard would redeem himself. A quick glance up the ice, and he was gone. Berard would cruise effortlessly through centre ice, gracefully he wove through the warzone of players, and gained the zone. A quick shot or a beautiful tape-to-tape pass, and the crowd would be in an uproar. And then Berard, with his arms raised over his head in triumph, and his lips curled into his trademark boyish smirk, would relish in the energy poured onto him by the fans. He thrived on the crowd's energy. He demanded it. And he got it almost every game.
It is not often that the NHL sees a player like Bryan Berard. Independant, Berard loved to change the momentum of the game single-handedly. "I want the puck when the game is on the line," he has said. "I want to be the player who makes the difference."
Berard often lived up to his words. Afterall, it was just his nature. Enormously gifted with fast feet, soft hands, and confidence, Bryan Berard played on the edge. His relentless efforts to provide offence sometimes got himself into trouble. If Berard made a bad play, he'd try the exact same play on his next shift. Call it stubbornness, call it selfishness, call it whatever you want, though "relentless" may better suit Berard's description. Nobody can classify what type of player Berard was. He was a breed all his own. WIth flashy moves and a flashy style, Bryan Berard could put on a show.
On January 29th, 2000, I was privileged enough to witness some of Berard's wizardry at the expense of the Los Angeles Kings at the Air Canada Centre. That game was the first Leafs game I had ever attended--Section 109, Row 11, $135 a ticket. Third period, Leafs are down 2-0 after lacklustre first and second periods. The crowd was getting restless when Berard scooped up the puck and danced through centre ice. The crowd grew more and more excited as Bryan Berard split the Kings' defence. Our mild cheers erupted into a thunderous roar as Berard proceeded to slip the puck fivehole on Stephane Fiset. Bryan Berard got the puck. He was the player that made the difference, as the Leafs went on to win the game 3-2. Afterall, it was only his nature.
In Greek tragedy, there is a tragic hero. The hero (also known as the protagonist) would have a single goal, one thing he had to accomplish. He is most commonly of royal birth, he possesses great strength, individuality, and is admired by many. Unfortunately, the protagonist has a flaw, most commonly hubris (the sin of pride). This flaw leads to the protagonist's demise; it is also known as the "tragic flaw" or "hamartia."
Enter Bryan Berard. His goal is to become an elite defenceman in the NHL and win the Stanley Cup. Not exactly royalty, but being a professional hockey player in Toronto, he may have well have been. He possesses great strength, probably from fending off big forwards trying to crash the net, he is an individual, and he is admired by hockey fans. Berard also possessed a flaw. He was too proud to wear a visor, that was his hubris, his sin of pride. That decision led to his tragic flaw, his hamartia, which led to the demise of his career.
Saturday March 11th, 2000, an NHL game between division rivals the Toronto Maple Leafs and the Ottawa Senators. They were both competing for top spot in the Northeast division title in the Eastern Conference, guaranteeing them home ice advantage in the first round of the playoffs. A loose puck slid acroos the ice in the Leafs zone, dangerously close to Curtis Joseph's crease. The Leafs were winning the game, and a desperate Marion Hossa blindly took a swipe at the rubber disk. Cujo made an easy save. The whistle blew almost immediately. When Cujo looked up, he probably saw the most gruesome sight in his hockey career. Lying in a heap, Bryan Berard kicked his legs in agony. It's hard to imagine the emotion Curtis Joseph and the rest of the Leafs team felt when they witnessed their teammate's career come to a tragic end. More importantly, try to imagine the terror Bryan Berard felt, although the pain was probably all he could focus on. Minutes later Bryan Berard was whisked off the ice by Chris Broadhurst (Leafs athletic therapist), and fellow Leaf Jonas Hoglund.
Berard was rushed to the hospital where doctors worked tirelessly to save Berard's badly damaged right eye. He refused to let the doctors remove the eye, as his career was probably the first and only thing on his mind. Cards, letters, and other forms of tribute poured into the ACC by concerned fans all around the country. The Leafs adopted a 'B' on their helmets, and wore t-shirts with the same 'B' logo in their fallen teammate's honour.
Almost a year has passed since that tragic day, with considerable improvements in his sight. But Berard is still legally blind in one eye, and that disability is what is making his return impossible.
Take a minute to say a prayer for Berard, pray for his happiness, pray for his future success in whatever he chooses to do. Take another minute to mourn for him; for the amazing career that never was. Do not be ashamed of your tears. Maybe Berard sums it up best when he says, "be strong. It's all right to cry and go over things."
*Goodbye and Good luck #34...Forever a Maple Leaf*
