The Hockey News article
August 18, 2006
by Mike Brophy
Though you would never have guessed it at the time, if you were among those at the North York Centennial Arena and watched as Yzerman rose from his seat in the stands and began his descent toward the floor and the Petes table, you saw the beginning of his ascent toward becoming one of the greatest NHLers of all-time.
In fact, you could be forgiven if you thought to yourself; the future of one of the greatest junior franchises ever is riding on the slight shoulders of this scrawny little dude?
Yzerman strode through the crowd, dressed neatly and looking every bit the boyish 15-year-old he was.
Reaching out to shake hands with Petes coach-GM Dave Dryden, he was a little taken aback when his new boss leaned in close and whispered, “Get a haircut, kid.”
In 13 seasons of covering the Petes for the Peterborough Examiner, I was blessed with the opportunity to see many young men who would grow into special pros – players such as Larry Murphy, Keith Crowder, Mike Ricci, Chris Pronger, and even Tie Domi – but none possessed the pure talent and creativity of Yzerman. When he turned pro, I remember seeing Yzerman in the Red Wings dressing room and being blown away by how much muscle he had put on through weightlifting.
As a junior, he was slight and looked rather vulnerable. Until he got on the ice, that is.
From the first shift Yzerman skated in his first junior game with the Petes, it was obvious this kid was special. He was able to make moves at full speed, the kind that left defenders’ heads spinning and wondering, “Which way did he go?” And size was never an issue. Yzerman would barrel into a corner after a puck with the league’s biggest defenders, never giving a second thought to his own safety.
When Yzerman was on the ice, you simply could not take your eyes off him. The way he cut through traffic with the puck, a head fake here, a shoulder fake there, was not only a sign of skill, but legendary greatness to come. Even as a teenager, playing against competition three and four years his senior, Yzerman made the game look easy.
Opponents would go to any length to try to stop him, only to discover his toughness knew no bounds. One night in Ottawa, Adam Creighton of the 67’s, who was 6-foot-5 and 210 pounds compared to Yzerman’s 5-foot-10 and 185, found out the hard way the kid could throw the dukes. Another night in Oshawa, in what was the most cowardly act I have ever witnessed, a punk named Dan Nicholson speared Yzerman in the face during a stoppage in play, ripping open his top lip all the way to the base of his nose. It was an unprovoked act that left Yzerman stunned and bleeding, yet it did nothing to derail his career.
In 22 glorious years as a pro, Yzerman grew from being a gifted offensive threat with game-breaking skill to a great two-way performer to a consummate professional and accomplished leader and, ultimately, into a sure-fire Hall of Famer.
And in the end, Yzerman left nothing in the tank, yet another testament to his greatness.
