Reminiscence and Appreciation: Peter the Great
Even in the prime of his career, there was a fairly pervasive sense that Peter Bondra, today the holder of six Washington Capitals' offensive records, was never a member of the NHL's elite class of superstar. Or even if he was one.
He was.
Truly, he was one of sports' most anonymous superstars of the 1990s. I cannot recall even a modest ESPN feature segment showcasing his ample arsenal of sniping skills. This for the scorer of more than 500 NHL goals -- most of them in bunches. And ESPN was the NHL's broadcast home for almost the entirety of Bondra's career.
No matter. He may have scored in record-setting fashion without media fanfare, but he surely secured the career-long, passionate appreciation of Caps' fans.
Approximately 95 percent of his 503 goals (472) were scored in a Caps' sweater. He is remembered as fondly as he is by as many Caps' fans as he is because in addition to scoring as frequently as he did, he did so with an endearing, infectious exuberance: there was artistry to his besting NHL goaltenders in elite fashion but also in the wide-eyed, even wider grinned, pressed-against-the-plexiglass manner which he celebrated with the home crowd.
Bondra's place in the pantheon of all-time great Washington athletes is secure. He merits mentioning among the likes of Darrell Green, Walter Johnson, and Wes Unseld as a giant in athletic D.C.
A compelling case could be made for his classification as the Capitals' all-time best player. Some of his offensive records (such as his 32 shorthanded goals) will withstand even Alexander Ovechkin's special forces assault.
Peter Bondra retired from professional hockey this week. He was, from the finding of a single Caps' scout (Jack Button), the greatest gift HockeyWashington ever received. Who would have imagined that such a slice of hockey heaven could be plucked from round seven (1990) of an entry draft?
Bondra ranks among the most popular players ever to wear a Caps' sweater, and it was easy to understand his appeal: he didn't just score lots and lots of goals, he did so with a sniper's flair and a stallion's speed. And in the immediate glow of the red lamp's lighting and the shriek of the celebratory siren, he capped it off with his genuine exuberance. He invited the home crowd into his glee and in so doing nurtured a career-long connection with Caps' fans. A half-inch of plexiglass ever separated Bonzai from them in the Capital Center and then MCI Center, but that physical barrier seemed only conceptual in his hundreds of celebrations over 14 years here.
In recent seasons I'd become distracted from my longstanding appreciation of Bonzai by some insiders' reflections of intermittent acrimony between Bondra and the Caps as well as my conviction that he never should have worn any sweater but Washington's. Management and the Bondra didn't always see eye to eye, with blame likely shared by both sides. This, too, is part of his legacy in Washington. But now that I don't have him any more, now that I can't have him any more, I really miss him.
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