A Warm Welcome Into Hockeyland

Paul Kariya is flying from Southwest Airlines to Toyota, from advertising boards at one end of the Pond to the other, flying about half a football field underneath a helmet and pads and the hopes of thousands.

He soars the length of the ice past one Phoenix Coyote, past another, into the corner, a speedskater with blood on his face. How does he do it?

Kariya turns, lays the puck back in front of the net. Steve Rucchin skates along, the only other person in the house not gasping in awe, sticks it past a sagging lump of Phoenix goalie.

It is 2-0 Ducks, second period of a seventh game that has already caused a headache from don’t-want-to-miss-a-moment staring, and it hits you.

This is no longer a movie.

This is no longer a marketing device.

This may have started in the head of some horn-rimmed suit, but it is now as far away from Disneyland as a little house on the Saskatchewan prairie.

This is real sport.

This is real hockey.

These are the Ducks, the mighty Mighty Ducks, 3-0 winners over the Coyotes on Tuesday to win a first-round Stanley Cup series after trailing, three games to two.

This is the first playoff series victory by an Orange County major professional sports team. Ever.

No Dave Hendersons here. No ninth innings. No heartaches.

Only slapshots from the blue line to the back of net. Only helmetless Teemu Selanne, rushing over to throw padded Keith Tkachuk into the glass. Only flapping white towels and long roars and fans from dozens of faceless cities coming together under one big sweater.

For the first time since the team was formed four years ago, the duck-billed logo at center ice here didn’t look so silly Tuesday. Actually looked like, if it wanted, it could climb up and kick some serious tail.

For the first time, the history videos featuring the likes of Bobby Orr and Bobby Hull didn’t seem so out of place.

For the first time, the loudspeakers played nothing but rock and roll . . . and the God-fearing folks of Yorba Linda did nothing but rock and roll.

“Guy-fense, Guy-fense” they cried, and if you can’t figure that out, you haven’t been paying attention.

The Ducks are today one of the eight best teams in the NHL.

By the time they finish with their next opponent, from Detroit--against whom they were unbeaten in four games this year, giving up only three total goals--the Ducks could be one of the four best.

After that, who knows?

But after Tuesday, who cares?

Disney has been sometimes silly and often cheap in its sports dealings in this area. But on Tuesday, Disney was right.

Buy a team, surround it with fans, entertain them until the team gets good . . . then step back and watch the memories.

The Ducks will arrive in Detroit later this week amid a rash of locally produced wit concerning the Little Mermaid and the Pirates of the Caribbean.

It happens everywhere they go. The jokes are too easy, too difficult to resist.

As of Tuesday, the jokes are also all wrong.

This team is not about stuffed mascots. It is about one of the league’s most acrobatic young scorers, who was also not afraid to spend time in the penalty box after throwing a Coyote into the boards Tuesday.

Paul Kariya, have you met Magic Johnson?

This team is not about parlor tricks. It is about one of the league’s most personable scorers, who was also not afraid to chase down and hammer an opponent Tuesday after losing his helmet at the other end of the ice.

Teemu Selanne, have you met James Worthy?

This team is part Showtime, part Crunchtime.

It is appropriate that the first goal in the deciding game was scored by a guy who scored only two goals during the regular season and not one in these playoffs.

David Karpa has a goatee and a sneer and loves to hit people when he’s not hanging out down as the beach.

His evening began when he skated up to Darrin Shannon behind the Coyote goal and popped him in the chest. The game was less than two minutes old.

Near the end of the first period, Karpa and his line were leaving Coyote impressions in the glass when Dmitri Mironov swung a pass to him across the ice in front of the Coyote goal.

Karpa was at the blue line, 60 feet away. He let the puck bounce off the boards, then slapped it wildly. And into the net.

Funny, but he didn’t look surprised. None of them do.

Coach Ron Wilson won’t let them. His pregame speech may be about General Patton, or a little girl daydreaming in the projects or even a flying monkey.

But all of them deal with belief. Seven months into a season during which they started 1-9-2, a whole lot of others are also starting to believe.

It’s a shame Disney wasn’t one of them in the beginning, at least when it came to Wilson. How else to explain its failure to complete the contract extension promised last summer? It is an extension that Wilson, whose deal expires this summer, is now only too happy he did not sign.

Disney’s procrastination will cost dearly. We can only trust that it will not cost the Ducks one of the game’s hottest coaches.

Wilson had only one bad idea in this first series, the deal about asking the Ducks fans to wear white.

Hello? That tradition was started in Winnipeg and belongs to Phoenix.

For Ducks fans to continue to wear white--about two-thirds still do--is a cheap rip-off. You would like to think that the world’s top entertainment corporation will come up something more original for the second round.

And please, Ron, don’t tell them to start throwing octopuses.