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Captain Vancouver — Page 5
Linden was much more than the unfailingly
dependable Canuck. He appreciated the power he had,
and saw it as a way to do good: helping poor kids and
kids with cancer, and making time for anyone who came
his way. When he headed for Long Island, this city mourned
him with calls to talk shows and letters to editors
that went, roughly, “We won’t see his like
again.”
And then, in the kind of storybook twist usually confined
to storybooks, we did: his stints with the Islanders,
then the Canadiens and then the Capitals ended in November
2001, when he was sent back to the Canucks. “I
remember I went home from the rink in Washington and
I honestly did not sleep,” he says. “I had
a million thoughts going through my head.”
First among them: can you go home again? “It was
an odd experience,” he recalls. “I was back
home, but I didn’t feel like I was. I felt like
I was auditioning. I remember the first few months I
was really on edge. I wanted to perform well.”
He needn’t have worried. In 2002-03, he notched
a respectable 41 points in 71 games as the Canucks won
45 games—their second best total in club history.
For his contribution to public life, he was named to
the Order of British Columbia. The following season,
the Canucks won their first division title in 11 years.
Along the way, Linden broke sacred Canuck records, passing
Stan Smyl’s 896 games in February 2004, and then
on March 8, scoring his 674th point with the Canucks
to break Smyl’s point total.
Of course, in cursed Canuck fashion, Linden’s
record-breaking night—when the linesman faked
fixing the ice so Linden could enjoy the standing ovation—was
also the night Todd Bertuzzi broke Colorado Avalanche
Steve Moore’s neck.
Linden’s place in the hearts of Canuck fans was
illustrated the following day, when a BCTV crew showed
up at Bertuzzi’s home. Bertuzzi, through an intercom,
told the reporter to get off his property, and then,
for good measure, called the West Van police. Before
they got the bum’s rush from an embarrassed cop,
the TV crew encountered a kid playing ball hockey in
the driveway across the street. And yes, Todd Bertuzzi’s
young neighbour was wearing a Canuck jersey: Trevor
Linden’s.
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“Through
the season you grow, you change, you evolve,”
says Linden today. “We’ve got
a good attitude, and our philosophy on
how this team will be successful is
the same with everyone.”

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There have been other
dark moments for Linden since his return home: his eight
years as president of the NHL Players Association saw
him square off with management and some of his own members
as the NHL became the first pro sports league to lose
an entire season due to labour impasse. Perhaps worse,
Linden was pilloried in public, the criticism a variation
on the classically Canadian theme that too much player
success/money/power is bad for the game. It’s
a position team owners have been taking since the game
moved indoors in 1875, and it wore Linden down.
During the ugly reality of the lockout, Linden spent
time with sick kids, hung out in the city and cycled
from his Point Grey Road home to Kits Beach with Cristina
to grab a bite and chat about her plans for Basquiat,
the boutique she opened in 2006. “I’m blown
away,” he says of her eye for fashion, and of
her store, for which he stresses he does not act as
a consultant. “I’m just a customer,”
he laughs. “And I thought I’d get a better
discount than I do.”
During the lost season,
Linden continued to work his magic on the city. Darren
Peterson, a recreation programmer at Mount Pleasant
Community Centre, received the surprise of his life
when he walked into Kits rink one night to practice
with his beer league team, the Formworks Hornets. “One
of the guys worked for Formworks and had done some work
on Trevor’s house,” recalls Peterson. “Trevor
asked how often we practiced, the dude said, ‘We
never practice,’ and Trevor said, ‘I’ll
run a practice for you guys.’”
Linden arrived at the rink early, and by the time guys
started showing up he was sitting in the dressing room
with his skates and hockey pants on. “Guys arrived,
saw him, and said holy shit!” says Peterson. “We
did a team jersey for him—number 16—he threw
it on, and he ran us through some drills—some
we couldn’t do. It brought a new spirit to the
team.” Linden took the Hornets for beer afterwards,
and the team was transformed. “We didn’t
lose the rest of the season,” says Peterson. “The
guys were so excited, it was crazy how we kept winning.
We ended up winning the league championship.”
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