King ruled
Cup or not, Lundqvist will always be
For all of Henrik Lundqvist’s grand achievements, his worst defeat is what defined his greatness for me, and always will. The sight of a devastated Lundqvist at his locker after Game 5 of the 2014 Stanley Cup Final in Los Angeles was unforgettably heartbreaking and painful.
Every Ranger knew it: they might never get this opportunity again. And they didn’t.
But as Lundqvist sat there sprawled out, head in hands wearing a Rangers baseball cap, pads still on, he was a giant — a fallen one, but a pillar of greatness who had carried his franchise through almost a full decade to the precipice.
And although that loss meant he would never win a Cup as a Ranger, Lundqvist had played well enough to beat the L.A. Kings in that series. And that’s what I learned that day:
A legacy can be much more complicated than the bottom line if you tell the story truthfully.
What everyone should know about Lundqvist, then, now that the Rangers have bought out the final year of his contract, is that he was a champion even though he never won it all here in New York.
For 15 years he was the bedrock of an Original Six franchise in the greatest city in the world. And in a city that for most is either too big, too glamorous, too fast, too expensive or too pressurized, Lundqvist found his equal in the Big Apple.
He was a star in a market most can’t even handle, let alone thrive in. He made it his home.
He looked like a star. He dressed l i ke a star. He played like a star.
He won like a star. He endured like one, too.
The primary reason for that, of course, was what we did on the ice. Routinely he would drop jaws.
Once in Boston, Lundqvist made such an incredible glove save stretching across the crease on a two-on-one Bruins rush that a reporter near me leapt to his feet in the press box and shouted, “Oh my God!”
No cheering in the press box, they say. But Lundqvist could make you forget you were working.
He leaves the Rangers holding more than 50 franchise records, including alltime wins (459), shutouts (64), playoff wins (61), playoff shutouts (10), save percentage (.918) and playoff save percentage (.921). He is sixth on the NHL’s all-time wins list.
He won the Vezina Trophy as the NHL’s best goaltender in 2011-12. He was a finalist for the award in four other seasons.
Beginning i n 2 0 1 1-1 2 , Lundqvist led the Rangers to three Eastern Conference Final appearances and one Stanley Cup Final appearance in a four-year span. And once he arrived in 2005-06, the Rangers made the playoffs 11 times in a 12-season span.
You can look up all the stats, though. What’s most memorable is just how regularly the Rangers not only relied on Lundqvist but leaned completely on the weight of his greatness.
In Game 7 of that unforgettable second-round series comeback on the Penguins in 2014, I’ll never forget the barrage of pucks and bodies that Pittsburgh threw at Lundqvist. It was an onslaught of black jerseys and black skates and the puck.
It was as if the Penguins were shooting three or four pucks at Lundqvist the entire third period. But it was Lundqvist, No. 30, who stonewalled them all on the road to complete their incredible 3-1 series comeback.
When the Rangers played night games in Carolina, the beat writers often would take the slow elevator downstairs early so we could file our running stories at the buzzer and quickly get to and from the locker room to file on deadline.
And without fail, when we did go downstairs early, the Hurricanes would generate about a thousand
scoring chances and Lundqvist would stop them all.
I’d pound away at my keyboard and look up every time the announcer’s voice turned frantic to see Lundqvist doing the impossible, and then go back into my story and adjust his save total that kept ticking up and up.
Lundqvist was one of the guys in the locker room, too. He was “Hank” or “Henke” (pronounced ‘Henk-y’). Every time he recorded a shutout, he famously would hold a “wine lottery” on the team plane on the ensuing road trip, giving out bottles to teammates as rewards.
Lundqvist’s Rangers teammates would make fun of him, too, sometimes about his perfect hair. But part of what made Lundqvist an easy target was also what made him their leader and their rock: an intensity he couldn’t really turn off.
Of course he effortlessly could transition from his drenched goalie gear into a perfectly tailored three-piece suit like no one else. But a fire burned in Lundqvist and so he always had an edge, always carried the responsibility of who he was and what he wanted to accomplish with him.
And there is no equal to Lundqvist’ classy and consistent representation of the franchise and city: He was always accessible, honest and respectful.
He was one of the greatest in the world at his position for years on end, but when he sat down on a bench in the Rangers’ locker room he was just Henrik, and you were worth his time, no matter if you were a former NHL player or some kid from Philadelphia introducing yourself in awe.
Lundqvist stopped 683 of 737 shots in that 2014 Cup run for a 2.14 goals against average and a .927 save percentage. In the Stanley Cup Final, he stopped 179 of 194 shots for a .922 save percentage.
The Rangers lost one of those games in overtime and two in double-overtime, including the elimination Game 5. Lundqvist stopped 40, 39, 12, 40 and 48 shots in
those five games. He made 48 saves on 51 shots in 94 minutes and 43 seconds in Game 5 before L.A.’s Alec Martinez ended it.
Despite that devastating result, however, there were no three words more consistent and comforting about the Rangers for a long time than these:
“Lundqvist in net.”
During my five fortunate seasons covering the Rangers, I would walk across town to Madison Square Garden from my apartment on 27th & 3rd. And there were two towering fixtures I could always count on seeing: the Empire State Building on 34th Street and Lundqvist on the Garden ice.
Lundqvist was larger than life. He always will be. And he will always be a Ranger.
The King’s run is over. Long live The King.