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MacLean trying not to get ahead of himself in this new relationship

By GARY SHELTON, Times Columnist
Published October 5, 2007

Johan Holmqvist reaches back to prevent the puck from trickling in during the second period. He had 26 saves on the night. View photo gallery
	[Dirk Shadd | Times]

TAMPA - To tell you the truth, the fan in Suite 547 was annoyed by the call.

He leaned forward in his seat Thursday, as if to cut down the distance between him and the official he was yelling at. His hands were raised over his head in protest. He scowled as if he had done it before.

"That's a bad call," he yelled. "That's a bad call."

Doug MacLean turned to his left and explained in further detail. "That was a bad call," said MacLean, the Man Who Would Be Owner.

And there it was, eight minutes and 19 seconds into the relationship, and already MacLean had set a franchise record for passion by an owner.

The team is not his. Not yet. Officially, MacLean is stuck in the eternal checkout line of the NHL, biding his time until he gets to the cash register and gets Gary Bettman to put this franchise in a bag. Paper or plastic, MacLean doesn't care.

Still, he was at the Lightning's opening-night victory because, really, where else would he be?

Here in Suite 547, MacLean sat on the front edge of a seat in the first row. There was a folded roster sheet in his right hand, a pen in his left and an overworked Blackberry on a ledge in front of him. Oren Koules, his prospective partner, sat to his right.

Together, they looked a lot more like two kids at the rink than they did the future of a franchise. Sitting just over the blue line, they chattered. They cheered. They chaffed.

When you think about it, isn't it time a Lightning owner did some of that?

It is early, but so far this seems to be the charm of MacLean. He loves the game. It is obvious as you watch him. The game was 12 minutes, 14 seconds old before his spine ever touched the back of his chair. When play was going on, he did not eat. He did not drink. With every shot on goal by the Lightning, he jerked visibly, as if to will the puck into the net.

Perhaps it shouldn't be a big thing, asking an owner to care as much as the customers. But those who have held the deed to the Lightning have never been accused of that, not since Phil Esposito had to surrender control of the franchise to Kokusai Green.

Did anyone ever hear Bill Davidson yell at an official who wasn't working a Pistons game? Did anyone ever see Art Williams lean forward in his seat except when he was trying to flee the building so he wouldn't have to watch anymore? Did anyone ever see Takashi Okubo at all?

Oh, there are stories. When MacLean was the president and general manager of the Columbus Blue Jackets, people couldn't get enough of the talk of his outbursts as he watched games. After all, the distance between passion and temper is measured by a team's winning percentage.

"Overblown," MacLean said, grinning. "I care a lot about winning and I don't like to lose, but still, the stories are overblown."

In the right measure, however, his passion will be welcome around here. Still, he knows there is an impression that arrives with him. Already, there are those who worry that his passion will cross the line into interference. Standing in the back of the suite, just before the puck drops, he said it will not happen.

A few minutes later, the lineups are announced.

Koules leans toward MacLean. "Hey, (Johan) Holmqvist is starting."

MacLean, "Yeah, I thought (Marc) Denis was going to start."

Turning to the reporter at his left, MacLean said: "See how much I meddle? I didn't know who the starting goaltender was going to be."

He grins. "Of course, people will say I don't own the team yet."

Yeah, it seems eternal to MacLean, too. Most of us hate waiting 15 minutes to sit in a restaurant. MacLean and his group have been trying to buy this team for four months now.

"I'm not taking anything for granted," MacLean said. For instance, he brought Lightning caps home to his children, but until the sale is final, he has forbidden them to wear them. He suspects his son, Clark, has worn his on the sly.

From his body language, MacLean seems to rise and fall with every play. But, no, he doesn't live and die yet. I ask him if he feels like this is his team as he watches.

"No, not yet," he said. "It doesn't feel real yet, you know? It won't until this is final."

Still, the attachment is forming. You could hear it when the Lightning struggled to get up the ice and MacLean was muttering, "Come on, boys. Come on, boys." You could see it in the relief on his face when Holmqvist made a nice save with a second left in the first period. "A huge save," MacLean said. "A save like that gives you a chance."

And sure enough, the Lightning came back to win, and in the end, MacLean and Koules were the guys high-fiving each other.

"This feels like such a big win," MacLean said. "My brother John e-mailed me and said, 'I'm not used to seeing you win on opening night.'"

MacLean laughed.

"I've got 81 more of these?" he said. "I'll never make it."

Ah, he'll be okay. At first glance, a victory over the bedeviling Devils suggests the Lightning will be, too.

One game in, and say this much for MacLean.

He isn't asking for his money back.

[Last modified October 5, 2007, 00:51:27]