Something's wrong in Denver. It feels like yesterday that the Avalanche were battling the Red Wings for Western Conference supremacy every year, and the Broncos were fresh off back-to-back Super Bowls. Recent mile-high headlines remind me of the ongoing "melo"-drama and radio personalities are busy wallowing in self-pity over the Broncos' struggles. Despite some preseason hype, the Avs are amassing one of the longest losing streaks in NHL history. If they can manage to lose their next 8, they'll tie the all-time record. There haven't been many bright spots in the Denver sports scene of late, but many had a brief glimmer of hope when the news broke that Peter Forsberg was returning to the Avalanche after two years in Sweden.
Unfortunately, the euphoria was short-lived, and after just two games (both on the road), Forsberg announced that he was hanging up his pads for good. What saddens me is that his comeback has become a punchline to many fans. Peter the Great is one of the most influential figures in Denver sports history, and I'm glad we got an opportunity to see him finish his storied career in an Avalanche jersey.
For years, I had an unhealthy obsession with the Florida Panthers. Our family pet was named "Beezer", after the all-star goalie, and I honestly think that I spent two years in a row without ever taking off my Panthers jersey. When I moved to Colorado Springs, the Avalanche were in their first year in Denver, having moved from Quebec, and I desperately tried to hate them. Throughout the year, I watched as both teams put together impressive runs, culminating in one of the single greatest games I've ever seen. In game 4 of the Stanley Cup Finals, both teams battled to a 0-0 stalemate into the third overtime period. In all likelihood, that is the highest my blood pressure has ever been (at ten years old, no less), and when Uwe Krupp squeaked the game's only goal by John Vanbiesbrouck, I cried like a baby, threw my remote at the television, and vowed to hate the Avalanche until the day I died.
Time can change just about anything.
As the seasons went by, I watched players like Claude Lemieux, Mike Ricci, Adam Foote, Patrick Roy, Joe Sakic and Peter Forsberg, and I couldn't help but love the team. Looking back, I had never seen a leader like Joe Sakic, and I had never seen a hockey player like Peter Forsberg.
To say that Forsberg played a physical game would be a gross injustice. He took beatings that made Cops look like Rainbow Brite, but he always answered with earth-shattering hits that would rattle our ancestors. Every time I looked up, he was threading crazy passes to every player on the team, and he truly elevated those around him. Even in his brief return, I saw glimpses of that same touch. He always seemed to be three steps ahead of everyone else.
Forsberg was a classy, electrifying, tough-as-nails competitor, and Denver was lucky to bear witness to such greatness. The failed comeback stings, especially considering the current state of the Colorado Avalanche, but I think it's important to remember what he's given to our city. His farewell tour reminded me that some athletes transcend the games they play, and Peter Forsberg will be greatly missed. His number belongs in the rafters along-side Sakic, Roy, and Bourque, and I'm glad I got to see him finish his career in the best city in the United States.
-Sam
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