January 3, 2007

BY DREW SHARP

We make too much of athletes. They aren't heroic in the purest sense of the definition. And all the attention and adulation made Steve Yzerman uncomfortable Tuesday.

It's not that the man lacks ego, but he counteracts an immense level of self-assurance with an equal portion of humble, small-town Canadian perspective. He walked around Detroit Tuesday with a red face that matched the color of the hockey sweater he graced for 23 years.

He was embarrassed with all the pomp, joking about how he had gotten a key to the city of Detroit but still didn't have a key to his new executive office at Joe Louis Arena. And the 200 or so folks that laced the three-tier circular concourse at the Wintergarden inside the GM Renaissance Center heartily laughed their approval at the quip.

Yzerman could have announced the impending end of the world at that precise moment, and the reaction would have been precisely the same.

"I do understand how very, very, very special I'm treated here in Detroit," Yzerman said.

The local, county and state dignitaries that recognized Yzerman with various proclamations during an official number-retirement ceremony at the RenCen only half-mockingly expressed their good fortune that Yzerman's name wasn't on a voting ballot opposing them.

The formal retirement of No. 19 was a national story in his native Canada. NHL commissioner Gary Bettman found himself in the unfamiliar capacity of anonymous hanger-on as he quietly walked behind Yzerman as Our Captain signed autographs along a review line after the RenCen ceremony.

"He does cast a broad glow wherever he goes," Bettman said.

And Hockeytown was all aglow Tuesday night. This was the final chapter, written in verses that swelled with love and appreciation.

Yzerman had formally retired last July 3, and everybody has slowly adapted to not seeing No. 19 on the ice again. But there was a finality to Tuesday's proceedings. As Yzerman stood at the blue line with his wife, Lisa, and their three daughters, he watched his number accompanied with the captain's 'C' elevate to the rafters where he will forever reign with Hockeytown royalty like Gordie Howe, Ted Lindsay, Sid Abel, Alex Delvecchio and Terry Sawchuk.

Yzerman deflected praise like he blocked slap shots, crediting Scotty Bowman as "the real leader" of the three Yzerman-captained Stanley Cup champions and never venturing too far without acknowledging the help he got from future Hall of Famers in their own right like Brendan Shanahan, Nicklas Lidstrom, Chris Chelios, Brett Hull, Dominik Hasek and Sergei Fedorov among others.

"I just went out and played like everybody else," he said. "I wouldn't be standing here if not for a lot of other great hockey players who helped provide us with some great teams. I feel like I'm getting a little more credit than I deserve."

But a momentary pause for gushing was important for the city, because Detroit never got the chance to convey its appreciation to the last local sports icon who spent his entire Hall of Fame career in this town.

Barry Sanders bolted the Lions unceremoniously, perched at the cusp of breaking an NFL career rushing record that probably meant more to the fans than it did to him. And there remains an uneasiness between the man and the team that probably precludes a similar outpouring of sincerity like we saw Tuesday night.

Detroit is different than other cities, living vicariously through the trials and tribulations of its home teams. It bestows upon its brightest sports stars an allegiance that perhaps borders on obsession. They might as well be family members as far as Detroiters are concerned.

Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick presented Yzerman with a key to the city, saying he symbolized the heart and soul of a city whose work ethic represents its heartbeat.

And a little mist welled in Yzerman's eyes as he listened to the mayor extol the virtues that mean more to him than any individual honor he ever earned.

"This is real people living real lives every day in Detroit," Yzerman said. "It's not the bright lights and big city and whatnot. People here work hard and for me, fortunately, they follow their sports teams very closely."

It's illogical making direct comparisons between the passing of a beloved president and the retirement of a beloved athlete's number. But there was one small yet distinct connection between the state funeral of Michigan's only president, Gerald R. Ford, earlier in the morning in the nation's capital and Yzerman's ceremony later in the evening.

We're reminded of the necessity of traditions. Ritual is important. It's not only the fabric that binds generations, but it provides a venue for the appreciative to show their gratitude. Days like these are more about the happy memories that people will take with them forever.

Those who packed Joe Louis Arena as well as those draped along the concourse at the Wintergarden came because they wanted the chance to simply say "Thank You, Captain."

"From my point of view it's more my turn to thank everyone," Yzerman said.

The pleasure was ours.

Contact DREW SHARP at 313-223-4055 or dsharp@freepress.com.