You can find a lot of people in Vancouver who remember the Canucks' 1994 drive to the Stanley Cup final. Far fewer seem to recall that the Canucks made an earlier trip to the final in 1982 with a team which, on paper at least, was much less gifted.

Of course, it all depends on how you define the word 'gifted.' The Canucks opened the 1982 playoffs against the Calgary Flames. The Flames were not yet the powerhouse they would become later in the decade, but some of the main ingredients were already in place, key among them being sniper Lanny MacDonald.

The Canucks had mounted a late season winning streak, and edged out the Flames at the wire to claim home ice advantage. It was their first playoff appearance in a few years, and the Vancouver fans were far from convinced that it would lead anywhere; the building was only about three-quarters full for the opening game.

The tone of the series was set in the first five seconds. Flames enforcer Willi Plett lined up at centre ice for the opening faceoff against Canuck left winger Curt Fraser. Fraser was smaller than Plett, but he was a fearsome fighter. As soon as the puck was dropped they started to scrap.

It was a short fight. Fraser ended it by bringing a quick but lethal right hand over his head and down on Plett, sending the bigger man to his knees. After that the Canucks, though out-chanced, held on to win three straight games in a best of five series.

Lanny MacDonald, shadowed mercilessly by his former Maple Leaf linemate Dave 'Tiger' Williams, could not mount much of a threat. In fact, it was Williams who was the overtime hero of the crucial second game. What did the Flames do about Williams, about his hounding of their star player?

What could they do? Curt Fraser, not even the biggest of the Canucks that year, had taken care of the Flames enforcer in the opening seconds of the series. The Flames had lost an edge to the Canucks, and they knew it.

I thought of all this while watching the debacle of a hockey game that unfolded a couple of nights ago between the Canucks and the Colorado Avalanche.

It was clear from the outset that the Canucks, seething since Colorado forward Steve Moore knocked Markus Nasland out for three games with a concussion, wanted to make a physical statement on their home ice.

Unfortunately, they had no Curt Fraser this time around. Brad May gamely took on Avalanche man-mountain Peter Worrell, but it was a stalemate (not a bad achievement for May considering the size difference). The feisty Matt Cooke had a go with Moore himself, but it was Moore who frankly looked like he had the upper hand.

The Canucks, like the 1982 Flames, seemed to sense that they had lost an edge, that they could not make the statement they wanted to make, at least not with any kind of 'exclamation point' (to use Colorado coach Tony Granato's expression). The result was a quick and ugly ungluing, first of their defence, then of their senses. Todd Bertuzzi's attack on Moore had the air of a crazed motorist, frustrated that the guy who cut him off wasn't getting a ticket.

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Steve Moore's hit on Naslund, the one that set in motion this sorry series of events, was a tough one to deal with. Technically, it may not have been a penalty. The referees policing that game didn't think so, and neither did the league when it reviewed the incident. Nonetheless, it was very close to crossing a line, perhaps not in the strict sense of the rule book, but in a way less easy to define. Naslund may have been on track for a league scoring title (the first in team history). And who knows what long-term implications it will have for Naslund's play; how much of a step will he loose if he needs to look over his shoulder, or let up a bit when chasing the puck?

Add to that the fact that Moore, a so-called marginal player, has lately developed a bit of a ‘niche’ for himself, as one of his Colorado teammates put it. Consider the following excerpt from the March 4, 2004 edition of the St. Petersburg Times, a Florida paper that reports on the Tampa Bay Lightning:

“Lightning coach John Tortorella called for league MVP candidate Martin St. Louis to receive more protection from referees ....what really got the coach steamed was when the 5-foot-8 St. Louis was cross-checked from behind into the boards by Colorado’s Steve Moore during the first period of Monday’s 3-0 Tampa Bay Victory.”

Cross checked from behind into the boards. Sounds dangerous.

This is not to suggest that the devastating injury inflicted by Bertuzzi on Moore was justified. I don’t know, at this point, how long Bertuzzi will be suspended, but I believe it should at least run into next season.

Nonetheless, there is some context to be considered in all of this. Hockey, with its combination of violence, speed and finesse, is a unique game. Skilled players are both an asset to be protected and, if they are on the other team, a weapon to be neutralized. There will always be agitators like Moore, and they will always be called to account by the enforcers on the teams they oppose. Perhaps the crucial difference between Moore and Bertuzzi is that Moore knew how far he could go without crossing the line. Tragically, the more powerful Bertuzzi wasn’t so smart.

That intangible line is ultimately all there is. Hockey players need to stay on the right side of it. No official, no amount of NHL legislation or protective gear can make that call for them.

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Now we must put up with the requisite outpouring of media angst. Sportscasters who usually gush over hits and fights during highlight reels like ten year-olds describing their favourite scenes in Lord of the Rings are suddenly solemn and censoring. Newspaper columnists are sermonizing on how goonery will soon lead to hockey's demise, just like it did after Marty McSorley’s hit on Donald Brashear in 2000, or after Dale Hunter’s blindside on Pierre Turgeon in 1993, or after Wayne Maki’s exchange with Ted Green in 1968, or after Eddie Shore helped fracture Ace Bailey’s skull in 1933....

And worst of all, we get the typically Canadian explosion of neurotica over the fact that our game is getting bad coverage in the American media. We live in a nation that pines for American attention the way a little girl hopes to get noticed by a teen idol. But now it’s all ruined! Our heartthrob is looking at us all right, but not because we’re sexy....it’s because our nose is bleeding.

See what you’ve done, Todd Bertuzzi!? SEE WHAT YOU’VE DONE!?

Look folks, I’ll let you in on something. If the U.S.A. rejects hockey, it will not be because they’re squeamish about violence. We’re talking about America, for crying out loud.

Sports tend to thrive professionally where they also thrive at a grassroots level. Hockey does not exist at the grassroots level in much of the U.S. for the simple reason that it’s a winter sport, and a large chuck of the American population lives in a very warm climate. It’s a bit difficult to build a backyard rink for your kid if you live in Scottsdale, or Fort Worth, or Baton Rouge.

Hockey has always been a regional game in the States, and it likely always will be.

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After beating the Flames, the Canucks of 1982 plowed through the Los Angeles Kings and the Chicago Blackhawks en route to the final. Both teams had some great stars; Marcel Dionne for the Kings, Denis Savard for the Hawks. But in both cases the Canucks prevailed. They were grittier. Indeed, a defining moment in the Blackhawk series was another fight, one in which Canuck Ron Delorme pasted Hawk enforcer Grant Mulvey (why? because Mulvey had taken a run at the artful Thomas Gradin).

And them came the New York Islanders, a dynasty with a curious mix of skill and brawn. There was the heavyweight 30-plus goal man Clark Gillies and the tough but talented Brian Trottier; there was the maniacal Billy Smith, and the great Denis Potvin, always ready with an eloquent quote and a career-ending hipcheck.

But the hero (and Conn Smythe winner) that year was Mike Bossy. Bossy was dogged by Tiger Williams as relentlessly as MacDonald had been earlier in the playoffs. Years later, I saw the two of them interviewed on the same T.V. show, via satellite. Bossy still clearly hated Williams’ guts.

But it was Bossy who delivered the exclamation point in that series, in extra time during game one. With only a few seconds left in the first overtime session, Bossy intercepted a pass at the Canucks’ blue line, took a few steps, and fired a missile of a shot over the shoulder of goalie Richard Brodeur.

It signalled the end of the Canucks' playoff drive as definitively as Curt Fraser’s punch had started it.

That the statement had been made by one of the game’s most gentlemanly players was a lesson in itself.