On May 24 of this month, the New York Islanders will, rightfully, celebrate the 40th anniversary of Bob Nystrom scoring at 7:11 of overtime to defeat the Philadelphia Flyers in Game 6 of the 1980 Stanley Cup Final. It would be the start of an American sports dynasty, one that hasn't been seen since. Four straight championships, five straight final appearances, 19 consecutive playoff series victories (a feat that will never be topped).
However, it didn't all start with Nystrom's goal, if you can believe that. The Islanders, in their organizational infancy beginning with their inception in 1972, were missing something. General manager Bill Torrey knew it, head coach Al Arbour knew it. The players all knew it. So, Torrey went out with playoff success on his mind and acquired Butch Goring from the Los Angeles Kings on March 10, 1980, before the start of the league's annual tournament.
You see, Goring wasn't merely a defensive specialist or a terrific penalty killer. He could also add offense, as evidenced by his career marks of 375-513-888 in 1107 games. Now, teams could not key on the Islanders' dominant first-line that featured super sniper Mike Bossy and all-around dynamo Bryan Trottier. Billy Harris, who along with Dave Lewis, went to the Kings in the trade, was immensely popular among the players, so the trade was not as straightforward as it appeared to be.
It kickstarted the Islanders on a stretch to close out the 1979-80 season with a 12-game unbeaten streak and propelled them into the playoffs on a high note. And it was in those playoffs where the beginning of a historic streak began, as New York proceeded to take down the top-two teams in the entire league that year — the Buffalo Sabres and Philadelphia Flyers. In Goring's illustrious six-year stretch with the team, he earned four rings and provided 28-40-68 in 99 post-season games.
As Mike Bossy said to Newsday's Andrew Gross, "Butchie was the last piece to the puzzle, he came in and provided a lot of good second-line work. He was great on the penalty kill. He was a little buzzsaw out there. I think a motivating factor for him was he went from L.A. to come to the New York Islanders that had Denis Potvin, Mike Bossy, Bryan Trottier and everyone else that contributed to us winning. It must have been motivating for him, and he proved to be a big part of our success."
I don't offer many personal experiences in this column, but I feel this one is more than deserving of one. You see, I was nine years old when Nystrom expertly deflected John Tonelli's pass past a helpless Pete Peeters to win Game 6 at Nassau Coliseum. I had just started playing hockey myself three years earlier and was wearing the first jersey my dad ever got me, a Christmas present of an Islanders mesh sweater adorned with the No. 19 and name 'Trottier' on the back. It was my prized possession that also became part of my bedtime wear, as more often than not, I would sleep with it on, only removing it when my mother, who was battling serious stomach issues and could barely get out of bed some days, demanded it be washed. (She would pass three months later, but that's for an entirely different column.)
My dad and I had settled in to watch the game that afternoon. He with a cigar and glass of scotch, me with a V8. We had the V8 in the refrigerator for my dad's other drink of choice, the vegetable juice mixed with Vodka, but me as that abnormal nine-year old, I liked the taste of it. It also made me feel as if I was "joining" him in some way, a strange type of "bonding," if you will. When Nystrom scored that goal, which will be forever etched in my memory until the end of time, I rushed outside like a lunatic, dashing up and down the street, screaming in joy, which carried its own special significance.
You see, I grew up in Staten Island, in a corner townhome. On the opposite street is where my and my friends spent our days, playing roller hockey with wooden frame nets using chicken wire as mesh that one of the other dads had constructed for us. We even had removable wheels on it for easy transfer from Vincent's yard to the street. The important piece of this part of the story is they were all….Rangers fans. ALL OF THEM. About five in total, house after house, neatly lined up like in the beginning of a cheap, 80s sitcom.
For the next four years, I was the king of the street. Untouchable. In my Islanders gear, playing street hockey with Rangers fans, there was nothing they could say to me. Nothing they can mock me for. Nothing they can do. The Islanders were that dominant during those impressionable years after my mother passed. You see, they saved me in a way. Gave me something good to focus on. Something good to wake up to. Something to forget the pain that I wasn't sure I understood at such a young age.
Being an adult now, getting the opportunity to write for the better part of six seasons about the team that formed my childhood - hell, WAS, my childhood has been incredible. It hasn't always been easy, I haven't always been correct, but I try my hardest to be reasonable and fair.
So, thank you, New York Islanders. Thank you, Butch Goring. It's been quite the ride.
