The NHL playoff handshake line: it's one of the most sportsmanly traditions in professional athletics. It symbolizes the end of hostilities. Winners are humble; losers are gracious. Erstwhile enemies restore civility between each other. They acknowledge that, although they met in combat on this particular battlefield, the game encompasses a broader fraternity of warriors, and in it they are brothers. (Occasionally they're even
literally brothers, as when Rob Niedermayer lost in the 2003 finals to his big brother Scott.)
At least that's the idea. But what if you look down the handshake line and don't see a valiant opponent? What if, instead, you're lined up opposite some dirty-playing, punk-ass cheap-shot artist more deserving of contempt than congrats?
ESPN columnist
Terry Frei thinks players should reserve the handshake honor for opponents who are honorable. He remembers 1996, when Claude Lemiuex shattered Kris Draper's face with a now-legendarily dirty hit on his way to an eventual Stanley Cup with the Colorado Avalanche. When the series was over, Detroit's Dino Ciccarelli said he couldn't believe he "shook [Lemieux's] freakin' hand." Frei's opinion: if Dino wishes he hadn't, then he probably shouldn't have.
Just this year, Minnesota Wild forward Derek Boogaard and coach Jacques Lemaire declined to participate in the handshaking after their acrimonious first-round series with Anaheim, and Frei says good for them.
"Good game."
Of course, Frei's just advocating what's already a fact: There's no rule that says players have to shake hands after a playoff series, and I bet the participation rate is lower than we might think anyway. But nobody cares about guys who've skipped the handshake ritual entirely to head for their locker rooms — no, I want to see a list of those players who've gotten
individually snubbed. Who's gone through the line only to get the old
"General Electric Corporate Handshake?"