The return of the islanders to Nassau Coliseum special to Fischler



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I started watching hockey at the Nbadau Veterans Memorial Coliseum starting with the Islanders' first home game on October 7, 1972. I never stopped "living" in the old barn until it closed (temporary) in 2015.

But beyond the championships and record feats of Mike Bossy, Bryan Trottier, Billy Smith and Co., I left with a treasure trove of untold memories. Here are some of them.

Additional drama

The fifth decisive game in the Patrick Division's New York Islanders 'New York Rangers' semifinal on April 10, 1984, was considered by many to be one of the best playoff games of all time.

The five-star rating (out of five) is based on intense rivalry, the end-to-end sensations of a return to the end of the third period by the Rangers and the thrilling end, with the Islanders' defender. Ken Morrow scoring the winning goal of the series at 8:56 of overtime.

Since I held interviews between the periods for the Islanders broadcasts on SportsChannel, my main interest was on the side of the local team. During the match, I placed myself behind the glbad in a corner of the rink; with about five minutes in each period, I headed for the studio in front of the visitors' dressing room.

I watched from my strategic location behind the window when the defender Tomas Jonsson beat the Rangers goalie Glen Hanlon at 7:56 of the third period to give the Islanders a 2-1 lead. Frankly, I felt very excited when I returned to the studio with about five minutes.

Until I ventured into the studio. The defender who was watching the match was not one but two Rangers watching the game on our television screen. Barry Beck and forward Nick Fotiu. Needless to say, they were looking for their team.

My first desire was to throw both of them out of our studio, but it was impossible. Beck was too big and Fotiu was one of my best hockey friends. we worked together on a book.

Again, it did not matter much until the Rangers moved forward. Don Maloney tied the game 39 seconds into the third period. Naturally, Beck and Fotiu became crazy for joy.

I was of course crushed and hoped that none of the Rangers would come back for extra time; but they did (our studio had the monitor closest to the visitors' locker room). When overtime began, the Rangers were in all the islands and only Smith, one of the great moneykeepers of all time, saved them from defeat.

Meanwhile, Beck and Fotiu were in the west and in the room. I kept my mouth shut.

Closed, that is to say until Morrow beats Hanlon to win the match and the series. I did not have a look until Beck and Fotiu made their orderly retirement. After all, this victory allowed the Islanders, four Stanley Cup champions, to move on to the next round, pursuing the "Drive for Five" program.

Looking back, I still can not decide what was most exciting – the game or the melodrama of our little studio.

This is certain: it remains one of my most thrilling nights at the old barn.

Sit down, Herb

Before a decisive playoff of the Islanders-Rangers series, I had to do a live interview with Rangers coach, Herb Brooks, in our SportsChannel studio, in front of the visitors' dressing room. My "Coaching Corner" segment was preceded by a five-minute interview that Jiggs McDonald, our turnkey character, had filmed with Islanders coach Al Arbor.

The arrangement was that Brooks would be brought to the studio about a minute before the end of the interview with Arbor; However, someone mistakenly escorted him to our studio four minutes too early. Although Brooks and I are good friends, he let me know that he wanted to start right away to join his team.

Knowing that Arbor's interview could not be interrupted, I told Marc Berlinsky, a shy college intern acting as stage manager, to tell our producer "d & rsquo; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; To speed up the conversation between Arbor "so that I can get Brooks out of there. Of course, I knew that it could not be done, but I hid as much as possible. Meanwhile, Brooks' anger got hotter and hotter by the second.

Eventually, I was fed up with my mocking – and without a doubt of my unsuccessful attempts to "frost" the Arbor – Brooks interview announced, "I got out of here! " With these words. he began to jump from his seat and went to his dressing room.

Of course, that would have killed my interview – and my manager, normally taciturn, knew it. Before Brooks could jump out of his seat, a very loud voice was heard and said, "Sit down, now!"

Berlinsky, my very milquetoast director, was completely different from the character, astonishing coach "Miracle on Ice". Brooks fell reflexively on his seat at the same time as the flashing red light on the camera. The interview of Arbor was over.

Before Brooks could cross his course, I pushed the microphone in front of him and asked my first question. Indignant but knowing that he had no choice, Brooks answered, stayed five minutes, then hurried off his seat in too much hurry to bother to tell Berlinsky where to go.

(P.S. Berlinsky, who was no longer shy, eventually grew up in the industry and became an executive at Madison Square Garden.)

Arbor forgets his wife

Few coaches in NHL history have had more to endure than Arbor. But one night at the old barn, his despair after a defeat encroached on his memory. His first captain, Ed Westfall, recalled the episode:

"We played a clunker and Al was livid, he did not want to talk to the players or the media," Westfall said. He got into his car and went to [his home in] Cold Spring Harbor. When he entered the alley, he realized that he was missing someone: his wife. He had left Claire Arbor at the Coliseum. "

Arbor quickly made the round trip of 13 km to reach the arena and found Claire outside the locker room. He did what he had forgotten to do in his fury of losing; bring his wife home. The good news was that Claire, a long-time hockey woman, was understanding.

"More than anything," concluded Westfall, this story tells you about the intensity of Al to win and lose hockey games. "

"Bill Bow-tie" vs. "Stan stubborn"

For many years, the Islanders games on SportsChannel were produced by Stan Epstein, a Navy hero during the Second World War and a good friend of mine. Before each home game, I drove Stan and my friend Bob Stampleman from our Manhattan homes to the Coliseum.

After the Islanders won their second Stanley Cup in 1981, Epstein told us that General Manager Bill Torrey offered each team member a commemorative championship ring. As I drove, Epstein turned to me and began a long harangue:

"Our SportsChannel team is as much part of the team as the players," he insisted. "And we should have rings as well as the players."

Epstein repeated the theme so many times, I exploded with the solution: "Stan, do not tell me, go to Bill's office and tell him what you're telling me."

He did just that; and after hearing the TV producer, Torrey said, "Stan, I have a question to ask you: how many goals did you score for us last year?"

Stuck for an answer, Epstein thanked Torrey, known as "Bow Tie Bill," for his time and made an orderly retreat in our TV truck, where I was waiting.

"Stan, how are you doing without?" I asked.

"I did not do it," he replied. "I'm not as insular as Denis Potvin!"

Take the & # 39; toll & # 39; on visiting players

In the 1980s, I was doing recorded interviews with visiting players after the morning skates. Since my youngest son, Simon, had become a supporter of the Islanders, I took him with me and let him wander into the Coliseum. While I was doing my footage in the studio in front of the visitors' locker room, Simon, unknowingly, "earned" money on his own. But I'll let Simon, now 40, present his report:

"At the time, I had the barn race.Nobody bothered me.One morning I installed a" toll booth "outside of the barn. cloakroom of visitors. "toll" to leave the Coliseum.

"I suppose they figured me out for an enterprising kid, and with a smile, they would ask me how much they had to pay.I would tell them I'd take anything from a penny." to a quarter – and over the years, I've totaled about five dollars in dough.

"By the way, never – not once – a player never said:" Scram, kid. "For me, it was proof that hockey players are great as a Yesterday and now. "

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