We let Marcel Dionne down. Twelve years later, after he worked his hockey pants off, usually with little or no supporting cast, he was traded away. What must it have been like to be a hockey superstar in a town like Los Angeles? Here, most of the ice is found in cocktails, and most of the city's residents couldn't tell Luc Robitaille from Luke Skywalker, much less pronounce Robitaille .
L.A. is a great hockey town. In fact, all 14 or so of us fans really love the game. We love the speed and skill. We loved all the great no-look passes that Dionne made; yet everyone knows Magic and not him. We loved the way Dionne roared past all of the all-time greats on the scoring chart; yet everybody knows Kareem and not him.
So, we let him down. He deserved better. But, then, so did we. And we still do. We deserve better than an owner whose only definition of goaltending is when you block a shot on the way down to the rim. How can one person own a basketball team that can do no wrong and, in the same building, a hockey team that can do no right? Come on, Dr. Buss, pay attention.
Thank you, Marcel, for 12 great years.