Trottier's Trot Across the River
by Luciano D'Orazio
Leaving the asphalt comfort of Brooklyn for the neverending sprawl of Long Island was not only bewildering, it was terrifying. Before the move, visits to my parents' friends on the island (which seemed to a 9-year old like the end of the world) filled my head with thoughts about the tract housing, the lush lawns, the open spaces. It was just too weird and out of place; I couldn't imagine people living like this. After the move, my suspicions were confirmed: There was no store around the corner. I had to be driven or ride my bike everywhere. There was no newsstand to pick up the paper. The paper, Newsday, was in color (this was before the Times decided to do likewise). It was delivered to the house by a paperboy. An actual boy dropped the paper at my house. It was surreal; even now I shudder to think about it.
Fast forward to last summer: I am sitting in the lobby of the Paramount Theater in Madison Square Garden, at an informal Q&A session with the new head coach of the New York Rangers, Bryan Trottier. A rookie coach, he seemed like a nice guy, and his pedigree indicated he had a lot of hockey knowledge. The Rangers, who hadn't even made the everyone-gets-in NHL playoffs since 1997, could go nowhere but up. Many of the fans' questions centered on the play of the team: Would the power play be rebuilt? Who will start on defense? Will the team create more scoring opportunities? But what stuck out most was the almost-constant preface from the fans: "Bryan, welcome to the Garden, even though you're an Islander." Hearing that phrase, you could tell that Trottier's coaching career in New York was doomed.
Trottier, fired from the Rangers last week after just 54 games as head coach, was an all-star forward for the New York Islanders, the Rangers' cross-town rivals, during their Stanley Cup years of the 1980s. Though not nearly the most hated Islander (that honor belongs to Denis Potvin), he was probably the best playmaker on the most hated team, at least in Manhattan. His crossing over the East River, into enemy territory, and his failure in that territory, highlights the gulf between New York City and Long Island. It is the widest geographical, cultural and social gulf around; crossing it is a perilous decision.
And the fans knew it. Apart from the lackluster play of the team, one of the reasons cited for Trottier's dismissal was that Ranger fans never warmed up to him. To those fans in the Garden on that Q&A session, it was all too surreal. Why was Bryan Trottier, one of them, coaching our team? That circle NY logo of the Islanders, like so many stars of the past, is practically tattooed on his chest.
As the play of the team roller-coastered through the early part of the season, the loyalty questions never fully went away, intensifying as the team's fortunes went south in December. The focus was not on the listless play on the ice, nor the lackadaisical defense, nor the rash of injuries that decimated the roster. It was with the coach. The least rational of fans even wondered if the team's woes were a conspiracy by those bastards in Uniondale to prolong the Rangers' misery.
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To think such conclusions are ludicrous is to not understand the divide. It is less a geographical one than a societal one — many of the suburbs around New York take fans of both teams (For sake of discussion, we will discount New Jersey. New Jersey Devils fans involve a more complicated theory). Rangers and Islanders fans, who at times mingle in peaceful coexistence, occupy different worlds. It is difficult for a Ranger to understand the high-occupancy-vehicle lane on the Long Island Expressway, the Frogger-like crossing of the Hempstead Turnpike in search of cheap parking, the constant arguing over property taxes, school board budgets and PTA meetings. Likewise, an Islander finds most bewildering the notion of not finding an open spot near the Garden, the booze-up pre-game at Charley-O's before the game, the constant arguing over 401(k)s, severance packages and the best Chinese take-out.
Even when they coexist in the same place, Rangers and Islanders show distinct rifts. Take your typical tract-housing development in, say, Levittown, Long Island. The Islander is content with this lot. He is content with a postage-stamp-sized plot of burned grass, a pre-fab house with so many subdivisions and extensions it looks like a misshaped stack of boxes with a property tax that would choke an accountant, with an automobile that is his only mode of transportation. Without it, he is a hermit. Yes, a hermit. The Ranger, on the other hand, chafes at his existence. Why is there absolutely nothing to do outside of beaches, malls and multiplexes? Why does my mailman look at me funny when he delivers my copies of New York Magazine? Why is the paperboy annoyed that he's heaving a 20-pound Sunday New York Times at my door like a shot put?
There are people from Long Island who never, never go to New York City to see tourist landmarks foreigners have long learned to love. The excuses range from "I don't understand the subway" to, "It's too expensive," and finally, "It's dangerous there." Likewise, many Manhattanites find anything east of the Queens/Nassau County line to be "rustic." Which leads to dreaded Rangers/Islanders games, at which the two sides sit side-by-side, in an uneasy, forced harmony. As each side cheers, there's an uneasy feeling, mostly because half the fans are extremely uncomfortable in their setting.
Which leads us back to Trottier. To be honest, Trottier was never going to be a Ranger in the first place. He's too nice a guy. He enjoys green grass and open spaces. He drives a car judiciously. He still has that mustache he wore for 14 seasons on the Island. To Ranger fans, it was too fresh, too raw. There was no way anyone would take him seriously as a Ranger coach, let alone a Ranger fan. He was doomed from the start.
In many ways, I empathize with Bryan Trottier. We both made a perilous journey from one world to the next. We both crossed the river. The difference is that I never forgot where I came from. I will always be a Ranger, and nothing on Earth will change that. Trottier, on the other hand, did the unthinkable. He was an Islander who tried to pass as a Ranger. Regardless of good intentions, he was flying in the face of nature itself, and it led to his undoing.
E-mail Luciano D'Orazio at loudogs1@aol.com.
