Weather | Sports | Forums | Comics | Classifieds | Calendar | Movies
PHILADELPHIA - For a moment, he stood alone in the darkness. For a moment, it was just John Tortorella and the noise.
The lights were dimmed for pregame introductions, and his team was on the ice, and the noise washed over him. Tortorella shoved his hands deep into his pockets, and he stared ahead, and withstood the loud, harsh sound of Philadelphia.
He had reduced the series to this, to the lasting image of one man standing up to the fury of the Philadelphia fans. He had absorbed all other controversies, erased all other concerns and deflected all other criticisms. It was about him now, about Torts and the fans' retorts.
He had invited the insults. He had ripped into the Flyers' administration, which is certainly nothing new to Philadelphia fans, and in so doing, he had waved pork chops in front of the fans of this city who consider themselves pit bulls. His words were blunt, hard.
Turns out, they also were words of wisdom.
Guess what happened Thursday night as the city of Philadelphia hurled its responses in the general direction of Tortorella? The Lightning, meanwhile, skated around the suddenly human Flyers and took advantage of the suddenly mortal Robert Esche. Who knows? Maybe Esche was listening to see if Tortorella had something else to say.
Oh.
So that's why Tortorella sounded off.
Let's be honest. Tortorella didn't talk the Flyers out of their momentum Thursday, and he didn't talk the Lightning back into control of the East Conference final. His team did those things. Tortorella raised his voice, but the Lightning's play spoke louder.
What Tortorella did, however, was take the load of a team that had struggled for two games onto himself, and in so doing, allowed his players to relax and say something themselves.
Okay, okay. Along the way, Tortorella turned himself into a target. He referred to the tactics of Flyers coach Ken Hitchcock as "gutless" and "chicken----." Hitchcock responded by accusing the Lightning of dirty play. Bobby Clarke, Flyers general manager, fired back that Tortorella was "a pathetic little man." After this game, Tortorella may have that phrase inscribed on a watch.
Understand this: Philadelphia fans usually love an opinionated coach in search of a controversy. Just not one from out of town. If a coach wants to invite scorn, if he wants to hear the sound of leather lungs cursing his name, this is the place for it.
So why invite this kind of abuse?
Think about it. For two days, all the news about this series has been about what Tortorella said, about what Hitchcock responded, about what Clarke chipped in, about what the players thought about it all.
Meanwhile, everyone stopped asking about Nikolai Khabibulin or the Lightning's anemic power play or how Vinny Lecavalier hadn't scored. No one wondered about why the Lightning looked as if it was wading instead of skating, or about the depleted defense, or about Tampa Bay's ragged passing in the first two games. A few words, and instead, everyone in the locker room was laughing about which coach was trash-talking the other. And the pressure leaked out of the room like air out of a balloon.
Was it scripted? Of course it was. Yeah, Hitchcock said something to the Lightning players, and yeah, Tortorella was annoyed by it. But it was the type of annoyed that takes about 11 seconds out of Tortorella's afternoon. On the other hand, Tortorella has usually had a good feel of his team, of what it needs to hear and what it doesn't. This time, Tortorella picked his spot, he picked his words, and he picked his audience.
After the noise settled, the Lightning picked it up. And what it had to say was deafening.
Maybe it had little to do with Tortorella's comments, but in Game 3, Khabibulin was back to spectacular, and don't those of us who doubted him look silly? The Lightning stopped looking as if it was skating on melting Snow Cones. The passes were crisper, smarter. Lecavalier scored. The power play scored. And the Flyers were behind before the fans had finished yapping for Tortorella to shut his yap.
I don't know about you, but the first reaction I had to Tortorella's statement was this: It's about time.
For two series, the Lightning had played an excellent brand of hockey against the Islanders and the Canadiens. Both opponents played hard, both played clean. On the other hand, there really wasn't a bad guy in either series. Look, every playoff series needs a controversy. Without bad blood in the water, it's hard for the fan to get a good grudge going. It's like watching Superman fight Batman. It's interesting, but unless you're Robin, it's hard to build an emotional investment.
Here, we have the Torts Talk Show.
And, gee, don't you wonder what he will say today?
Who knows? Maybe he will insult Joe Frazier. Maybe he will talk about Ben Franklin's weight or Rocky Balboa's height or Walt Whitman's bridge. Perhaps he will make fun of cheesesteaks andTastykakes and the Eagles' record in NFC title games. Perhaps he has an opinion about Wilt Chamberlain or Betsy Ross or Pearl Bailey.
Yep, you wonder if Tortorella has something more to say. His team, too.
Oh, and just for the record, maybe Clarke was misquoted.
Maybe what he meant to say was that Tortorella is a prophetic little man.