Diane's Playoff Diary, 5/7/00:
Let Me Tell You About This Shift . . .

I will never be out of a job as Carbonneau commentator as long as the newspapers keep failing to report on the incredibly cool stuff he does. Nor will I be able to contain my desire to write about him as long as he keeps amazing us this way.

Following Dallas’ 5-4 victory in Game 4 against San Jose, this is what I wish you had been able to read in the morning papers from Texas:

With just over a minute to go and a one goal lead to protect, of course it was Carbonneau’s line out on the ice. Early in the shift Guy stole the puck and propelled it into the San Jose zone. Later, when the Sharks worked the puck back into Stars territory, Carbo corralled it in the slot and carried it out toward the boards. Guy saw Jeff Friesen in hot pursuit but was unable to avoid being slammed full force into the boards—he went down in a heap. Nevertheless, he managed to get up swiftly and caught up to the action in half a second. Carbonneau gauged the play so well in that time that he was able to put his body in the path of the next Sharks shot on goal. The puck bounced off Guy’s chest and fell at his feet; he gathered it up again and rather than icing it, carried the puck out of the zone, struggling with the last of his strength to get it past the red line. There he was again checked by defenseman Brad Stuart, a shoulder to the head. Guy collapsed to the ice, but even this was a final defensive move: he fell on the puck and drew a whistle.

In this game Carbonneau also scored a shorthanded goal. That made all the papers, and I’m certainly not disparaging his offensive contribution to a match in which every goal was needed. But it was not after that goal, but rather after this defensive shift that I sat stunned with admiration. I can only imagine how the brain and body of a player like this work. Through fatigue and pain, Guy could somehow maintain the clarity of mind to keep his focus on the task at hand: clearing the puck at all costs. Not only did he stay in the play, he controlled the play. Even on the edge of fainting, he found the puck with his body.

Other people may replay goals over and over, but this is the kind of shift I can’t see enough times. It is the triumph not so much of skill but of sheer force of will. Under such duress, skill will usually fail. But not with Carbonneau, whose will is his tour de force.

As I watched him on the bench panting and waiting for the blood to return to his brain, I could not even articulate my wonder. 36 hours later I’m still having difficulty doing it. Nevertheless I’m driven to describe this shift even in words that can’t do it justice, lest you miss one of the best minutes of the Stars’ second round simply because it was defensive rather than offensive.

Sure, no goal was scored in that minute. But you know, that was the whole point.