Miracle on 33rd Street

ICE HOCKEY

"Nobody knows what to expect--unless it's the unexpected," wrote a Montreal sports columnist when action in the new twelve-team National Hockey League got under way last October. Few fans expected that by last week both divisions of the expanded league would be battling down to the wire in the tightest N.H.L. race in years. In the new West Division, six points--the equivalent of three victories--separated the top four teams. In the old East, the Montreal Canadiens were in front by only eight points; the Boston Bruins and New York Rangers were tied for second, with the Chicago Black Hawks only a point behind.

Unexpected verged on inexplicable as hot teams suddenly turned frigid, or sure losers suddenly won. How to explain, for example, the Canadiens' 21 games with only one loss--followed by three losses and a tie? Who could have predicted that the Bruins would win six out of seven with All-Star Defenseman Bobby Orr sidelined? And how about the Rangers, those longtime patsies? Last week they had a Stanley Cup play-off berth all sewed up, and were within striking distance of winning the N.H.L. championship--for the first time in 26 years.

Missilery & Mouth. Missilery, muscle and mouth are the keys to the Rangers' resurgence. Jean Ratelle, Rod Gilbert and Vic Hadfield constitute the deadliest line in the league. Center Ratelle has 30 goals and 45 assists, ranks No. 2 in the league in scoring (behind Chicago's Stan Mikita). Right Wing Gilbert trails Ratelle by one goal; and Left Wing Hadfield, who missed a fifth of the season with a broken shoulder, has contributed 19 goals and 19 assists. For muscle, there is Reggie Fleming, a stocky "bad boy" who has spent 122 minutes in the penalty box--not to mention Orland Kurtenbach, who twice last year scored one-punch knockouts in extracurricular contests on the ice. And Goalie Ed Giacomin leads the league in shutouts.

The mouth belongs to Coach Emile ("The Cat") Francis, 41, a diminutive ex-goalie who patrols the Ranger bench during games, screaming profanities that would make a dock-walloper blanch. "Cash and cussing" is the way one Ranger describes Francis' coaching methods: players who turn in exceptional performances find something extra in their pay envelopes; those who let down get a stinging spray of verbal vitriol. Last season, after a lackadaisical game against Montreal, Francis announced that a "television deal" was in the offing. The players' faces brightened. "Yeah," sneered the coach, "the Red Skelton show needs some sloppy

clowns, and we've got the best

bunch in the world right here."

For all their new punch and prowess --and their lofty standing in the league --Francis' Rangers at times still have their sloppy moments. Six times this season, they have suffered the indignity of being scored upon while they were at full strength and the other team had a man in the penalty box. But to long-suffering Madison Square Garden fans, who have not seen their heroes reach the Stanley Cup finals since 1950, the Rangers' amazing transformation is truly the miracle of 33rd Street.

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