Stanley Cup Finals 2011: Big Bad Roberto Luongo and the Angel of Tim Thomas

It wasn't unsolicited.

Roberto Luongo was asked, directly, about the lone Vancouver Canuck goal that beat Tim Thomas in Game 5 of the Stanley Cup Final, and he gave his answer:

"It's not hard if you're playing in the paint, so...it's an easy save for me, but if you're wandering out and aggressive like he does [sic], I mean that's going to happen so uh...he might make some saves that I won't, but in cases like that, I mean, we want to take advantage of bounces like that and make sure that we're in good position to bury those."

The media, with two days of headlines to fill before the next game, pounced on the comments as needless fodder for the Bruins to use in Game 6 (as if the B's really needed motivation for an elimination game in the Stanley Cup Final) and when Luongo was badly outplayed in that game, costing his team the win, his Game 5 comments were given as much blame as the three goals he let in before being pulled. The media expressed bewilderment about how Luongo could possibly slight his rival the way he did. 

Really?

Sure, the Bruins netminder has had a run to remember. But has the aura of St. Thomas really clouded our ability to discern what should be plainly obvious to anyone who's paid even a little attention?

Are we really surprised that the most maligned gold-medal-winning goaltender in history has just a teensy-weensy bit of a hate-on for the most celebrated silver-medal-winning backup goaltender in history?

Let's take a step out of the Stanley Cup forest here, if only for a second. 

On paper, Luongo's comments were mostly analytical. But to watch them on tape is to see a man desperately looking to shed the devil horns fixed to his head by exposing the goalie whose angel wings had seemingly flown him permanently into the high esteem of everyone this side of Dominik Hasek.

Luongo had outplayed his rival in three out of five games, earning two shutouts, yet it was Thomas who was the consensus pick for Most Valuable Player, regardless of the outcome. Thomas hadn't won anything but was seemingly winning everything. One can envision a Luongo nightmare wherein, after finally winning the Cup, Luongo watches in terror as an asterisk is slowly being engraved alongside his name, so as to explain that it was Thomas who really deserved it.

Of course, Luongo did himself no favors by trying to walk back his comments with the now infamous tire-pumping remarks, and laying an egg in Game 6 didn't help much either. But let's throw this Stanley Cup finalist a bone by at least trying to acknowledge the double standard that's hung around his neck like an albatross since the playoffs began. Let's try, just this once, to play Luongo's advocate (Bruins fans, you're excused).

If Tim Thomas lets in a soft goal (and there have been many in these playoffs), it's his aggressive style that's invoked—the double-edged flop that makes him the last of a dying breed; exciting to behold, win or lose. Fundamentals be damned—did you see that 360? A bad goal here and there? Come on. That's just Tim Thomas being Tim Thomas. No one cares to postulate that his acrobatic saves were the product of bad positioning in the first place, and why would we? He's so damned fun to watch!

Then, of course, there was the hit.

In Game 3, with the big, bad, 188-pound bully Henrik Sedin bearing in on him, Tim Thomas delighted Bruins fans and Canuck haters everywhere by eschewing the puck and laying out the unsuspecting Swede.

There are no laws against a goalie hitting a player with the puck. But an unwritten rule does seem to maintain order: Not hitting an opponent during play is the price a goaltender pays for the considerable protection afforded to him by the NHL rule book.

Yet there was little mention of the unspoken goalie-player treaty postgame. The highlight reels were already churning and Twitter feeds already lighting up. The legend of the Thomas Hit was cemented before anyone who cared had bothered checking into the hit's legality. He's like Ron Hextall, but, you know, with a smile!

And oh, what a smile it is. A smile that surely invades Roberto Luongo's thoughts at night. The same smile Thomas so easily betrayed when responding to the aforementioned tire-pumping comments. A Cheshire cat-like grin that says Pardon me while I adjust my halo.

Conversely, when Luongo lets in a softy (and yes, he's had his fair share as well, in Game 3 alone), you can feel the entire province of British Colombia sigh a collective breath of resignation (no, Calgarians, those were not Chinook winds), as if they knew Luongo would let them down all along.

This fatalism also seems to permeate the hockey media in Canada, as evidenced by the daily Luongo-Cory Schneider debate and the number of Luongo games deemed "career-defining" (I count three in these playoffs alone). Again, I defy you to produce a gold medal-winning goaltender that is more doubted and more intensely scrutinized.

Luongo is roundly considered an all-world regular season goaltender and a perennial underachiever in the playoffs. Yet the same criticism is not so universally levied on Tim Thomas, who, despite having a Vezina Trophy in his cabinet (one more than Luongo), had not led his team past the second round since getting the Bruins' No. 1 job back in 2006.

Luongo has been burdened by stratospheric expectations since losing to the Chicago Blackhawks in 2010. Thomas suffered no such standard, perhaps because he spent most of the '09-'10 season on the bench, having lost his starting job to Tuukka Rask. 

Even if Luongo wins Game 7, it will be Tim Thomas who claims the Conn Smythe Trophy and with it the goaltending narrative. His story will be written using terms like "blue-collar" and "workmanlike", and tales will be told of the manner in which he clawed his way into the NHL after toiling for years on farm teams and in Europe, winning over coaches, teammates and fans alike with his aggressive style and folksy charm (and how about that beard!). Thrilling on the ice. Humble off it. A Stanley Cup for Tim Thomas would almost be too perfect an ending. Even Rocky had to lose.

Meanwhile, Roberto Luongo, himself the product of a blue-collar upbringing (his father an Italian immigrant construction worker), can only hope to relieve himself of the weight an entire city has placed upon him. Can only hope to temporarily justify a 12-year contract expected to pay him $64 million. Can only hope to get some rest and maybe, just maybe, some quiet.

This is the disparity Roberto Luongo lives with. Many of you may hate every bone in his body and wish for his swift removal from Game 7. But let's not pretend to wonder why he let a hint of emotion slip after Game 5. He's got a few things goin' on.