Craig Hartsburg's eyebrows don't twitch when he coaches the Mighty Ducks. His lips don't quiver, much less spread into a smile. His face doesn't turn red in anger or joy. He doesn't pound on the glass. If he sweats, no one can tell.
We have come to know Hartsburg as the man with the straight back and the straight face behind the bench of his feisty, young, still alive team.
The Ducks play the Detroit Red Wings, the defending Stanley Cup champions, Wednesday night in the first round of the NHL playoffs.
Hartsburg, 39, may not be the only reason for the Ducks' success, but he deserves credit in large measure. He has taken a team that seemed hopeless and humiliated and brought it most unexpectedly into the playoffs.
He came to town less than a year ago as second choice, not hired until after a minor-league coach turned the job down.
He came to town more to snickers than to cheers because he had been fired not much more than six weeks before the Ducks hired him.
Fired because the Chicago Blackhawks seemed hopeless and humiliated and were out of the playoffs too.
Often you hear the questions. Does Hartsburg ever smile? Does he ever laugh?
Yes, says Hartsburg's wife, Peggy, whom he met in Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario, when he was 16 and 500 miles away from home. Peggy said she probably was the one "who chased Craig because he was so shy."
She laughs easily over the telephone from Glenview, Ill., a Chicago suburb where Peggy and Katie, their 16-year-old daughter, are living until Katie finishes high school. Son Chris is a freshman hockey player at Colorado College.
Peggy says Craig laughs a lot too. At funny movies or books. That he will smile all the time during the off-season. That he will frown or get angry too.
Craig's mom, May, remembers how he cried when he was 15 and had gone off to play Junior A hockey in Guelph, Ontario, about 70 miles from Stratford, Ontario, where Craig grew up with two brothers and a sister.
May says Craig called in tears and said he wanted to come home.
"His father got on the phone," May says, "and told Craig that if, in a month, he still felt the same way, then Craig could come home. But he also told Craig how important this was and that Craig should give it a fair shot."
In a month, Craig didn't come home.
It was Bill--who is 70 now and says he never puts on the skates anymore but would like to--who first put a pair of skates on Craig when Craig was 18 months old. Bill played hockey too.
