Grossy's Take: Eric, We Hardly Knew Ye

The retirement of Eric Lindros from the NHL today begs the following question: has there ever been a more overrated and over hyped athlete in the history of professional sports in Philadelphia than the man who donned 88 for the orange and black from 1992-2000?

Like so many Cup-starved Flyers fans, the signing of Lindros (in which we edged out the dreaded Rangers because the Nordiques received our faxed offer first—let’s hear it for what passed for high-tech in the early ‘90s) seemed to signal the promise of Lord Stanley’s imminent return to Broad and Pattison. Sure there were some critics out there carping that Russ Farwell and Ed Snider gave up too much money ($15 million) and talent (Forsberg, Hextall, Steve Duschesne, Mike Ricci and others who later represented the core of the twice-over Stanley Cup Champion Colorado Avalanche) to land the junior hockey sensation Lindros. But it was a bold move for a franchise that was desperate for new life having recently fired the beloved Bob Clarke as GM and finishing in the cellar of the Patrick Division with just 32 wins in 1991-92.

Initially Lindros did not disappoint. Flyers fans immediately loved Lindros in equal parts for his smash-mouth physical style of play that complemented his scoring ability and undeniable natural hockey skills. First centering the “Crazy 8s” line and later the “Legion of Doom” with LeClair and Mikael Renberg, Lindros improved with every passing year, winning the Hart MVP trophy in the strike-shortened seasons of 1994-95 and scoring 115 points during the 1995-1996 season. 88 jerseys were ubiquitous in every corner of Philadelphia. The Flyers said goodbye to the Spectrum in 1996, led across the street to their gleaming new palace, “Spectrum II” ( I mean Core States Center, I mean First Union Center, I mean Wachovia Center) by our savior on ice, #88.

So where did it all go wrong? Lindros did not endear himself to any Flyers fans by missing the first 30 games of the 1996-97 season due to an off-season groin injury he sustained while playing for Team Canada. Nevertheless, Lindros came back on fire and scored 79 points goals while leading the Flyers to the Stanley Cup championship against the Red Wings. With Billy Penn atop City Hall donning a massive orange and black jersey, the Flyers seemed poised to deliver to Philadelphia its first professional sports championship in 14 years. And then something horrible happened: in what coach Terry Murray would infamously label “basically a choking situation” Lindros failed to show up in the most important games of his career with the Flyers getting swept in 4 games and outscored 16-6 in the series. Fans were horrified that Lindros could only muster a single goal in the final game of the Stanley Cup Championship. Even worse, his ability to lead the team as Captain was immediately called into question.

It was essentially all downhill from there. The first of many concussions leveled on Lindros in 1998 causing him to miss 18 games. Constant public feuding with GM Bob Clarke who so obviously and painfully defended his position on the throne as All Time Greatest Flyer, even to the detriment of his players. A collapsed lung and allegations against team doctors that they’d nearly cost Lindros his life. His mother Bonnie’s public criticism of the way the Flyers and Philadelphia treated her son. A lawsuit against WIP for defamation on the grounds that he missed an important game against the Penguins because of a raging hangover. And the final insult: the public stripping of his captaincy.

Lindros played his final game for the Flyers in Game 7 of the 2000 Eastern Conference Finals in which the Flyers coughed up a 3-1 series lead to the Devils. Eric the Great’s last moment as a Flyer: being on the receiving end of a hit by Scott Stevens which left him with another concussion. The Devils went on to win the Cup and Lindros would sit out the next season, before resuming his shattered career with the Rangers, Leafs and Stars. Needless to say, we’re still waiting for our Cup.

Despite his physical and intimidating style of play, Lindros never lived up to the hype he generated. In addition to his frequent and multiple injuries, Lindros never seemed comfortable in the spotlight. Perhaps more than any other sport, the captaincy in hockey carries real meaning and instantly connotes leadership and respect, not unlike the QB of an NFL team. Yet Lindros was never able or willing to step up and be vocal leader of the team, especially in the biggest games of his career (the 1997 Cup finals). In that regard, it is hard not to draw uncanny parallels between McNabb and Lindros: Two athletically gifted yet seemingly aloof, oft-injured leaders of their teams who couldn’t quite deliver us to the promised land.