I recently watched an interview with former NHLer Gary Roberts, who was telling a story about his then-teammate Sidney Crosby who played with Roberts in Pittsburgh. Though Roberts was a formidable player himself, he told of being amazed by Crosby’s dedication to his craft and his ferocious attention to detail. One particular story stood out.
Crosby had suffered an ankle injury and severe lace bite, so he was spending about 45 minutes stickhandling through an obstacle course in some off-ice training although this was no normal hockey stick.
Well, originally it was, but not now.
This one was shortened specifically for the off-ice training because Crosby wanted the angle and his grip on the stick to be as close to the in-game dynamics as possible.
Wearing shoes in this case, as opposed to skates, put him three inches closer to the ground and that meant that, with Sid being Sid, he had to account for the difference.
Most players would have simply repurposed a game stick but not this guy.
Even when the difference amounts to little more than the width of three fingers with Sidney Crosby every detail matters because you don’t become Sidney Crosby by ignoring the details.
That could be the stick you use or the stuff you wear or, in the case of another legend like Guy Lafleur, the stuff you don’t wear.
Lafleur, who played a key role in the Montreal Canadiens’ dynasty during the 1970s, had a bit of a problem when he entered the NHL in 1971. Two problems actually. The first was trying to find his rhythm and ultimately his magic in the NHL. The second was whether to wear a helmet or not.
Lafleur had grown up during a time when few players wore helmets but was part of the first generation to adopt them when more and more leagues were starting to mandate their use.
The motivation to mandate them was to provide safety certainly but hockey culture has never been one to see safety as a priority so wearing the helmet made Lafleur stand out as a boy among men whether that was true or not.
He had played – and flourished – while wearing a helmet, but also while not wearing it. Lafleur was stuck in a somewhat awkward situation: to wear it or not to wear it? That was the question.
Lafleur’s routine in his first three seasons was to wear the helmet during games but not during practice and, while he wasn’t awful in those first three years, he also wasn’t the unbelievable talent everyone had heard so much about.
His hesitation showed. At least it did to his teammates.
Yvan Cournoyer has since said that he and fellow veteran Henri Richard pulled the young Lafleur aside amid the ongoing “helmet, no helmet” discussion and advised him to take it off and to keep playing his game.
That season – the first one he played without the helmet during games – began a run of six consecutive 50-goal, 100-point seasons for Lafleur. The legend was born.
So, what can we gather from these two seemingly unrelated stories?
First off, they’re not unrelated. The common theme in both is how the best equipment is the equipment the athlete no longer notices because it disappears from their conscious mind.
Crosby made an equipment adjustment so the stick would feel exactly as it should. Lafleur removed equipment because it prevented him from feeling exactly as he should.
Lafleur mentioned how much freer and natural he felt when not wearing the helmet. Crosby just didn’t want the length of the stick to be a distraction and a hindrance to how he practiced.
Crosby made practice imitate the game and Lafleur made the game imitate practice. Crosby corrected the geometry while Lafleur corrected the psychology.
In both cases, greatness appeared when there was nothing between instinct and execution.
Call it flow, call it comfort, call it anything you want but equipment works best when you don’t know it’s there or, in the case of Guy Lafleur, when it literally isn’t there.
Sidney Crosby knew that using equipment that’s uncomfortable can create distraction, even when it’s nothing more than a few extra inches on a hockey stick. Being able to connect your stick to the puck seamlessly and without interruption is a pathway to greatness because it connects the tool to the skill in a direct, and uninterrupted path.
It becomes part of the player and a natural extension of him.
Lafleur’s teammates knew that too – which is why they felt the need to talk to him. Convincing Lafleur to remove his helmet was setting him free. To be one of the boys, to be himself and ultimately, to be the player he knew he could be.
No hindrance. No distraction. Just talent through synergy.
For both of them it was simply a case of addition through subtraction because when the equipment disappears, the talent flourishes.