Pittsburgh Penguins Retract Jagr's 1-Year Offer: Why This Could've Made Sense

TITLE AND ARTICLE UPDATE: Since this article was published, the Penguins and Red Wings have withdrawn offers, Jagr signed with the rival Flyers.   

In the early 1990s, Jaromir Jagr was a member of a Pittsburgh Penguins squad that oozed with talent. Two decades later, the possibility of his career coming full circle is incredibly enticing. According to The Associated Press, the Penguins offered Jagr a one-year contract and are waiting to hear back from his agent today.

A city’s folk heroes can come from various walks of life, from brave protectors in uniform to entertainers. Athletes also form into town heroes. Sometimes, instead of being carried off into the sunset with dignified appreciation, icons stumble over their own words. They leave without the dignity that they have probably earned.

Or, in this case, they trip over their own stick (shtick). 

As Jagr left the Steel City in 2001, he left indelible images in the memory banks of fans who adored him—a warm glow for the faithful that rejoiced over white-hot hockey summers almost 20 years ago.

Sadly, Pittsburgh fans often also recall the sulking misfit, insinuating that he was “dying inside,” ready to spring free from the franchise that had so recently made him their “face.” That face now looked disinterested.

Yet, 10 years before those final moments, in a time line sweetened by championship glory, Jagr’s electrifying play was a visual sugar-buzz on the NHL’s most dangerous team.

Athletics spawn perhaps the most natural icons; after all, our sports-crazed culture loves to embrace elite athletes for their valiant works that seemingly defy the laws of physics.

Physics and Jaromir Jagr were born from two different perspectives. In a reality confined to rules of momentum and gravity, the young phenom quickly took it upon himself to show hockey fans in Steel Town that the surreal often defied such formulaic laws, giving way to a much more basic equation:

Jagr + Lemieux + Francis + (fill in the blank) = Stanley Cup

Mario Lemieux was already entrenched in Pittsburgh sports history as the finest player to ever lace skates in the ‘Burgh. In fact, a healthy Lemieux scored at record paces. The 1988 season saw Mario nearly break the 200-point plateau, and a 46-game scoring streak ended in 1989 due to injury. Many circles considered Mario “the Great” to be as fine an NHL star as the illustriously decorated Wayne Gretzky.

By 1990, the franchise had put the pieces together for Mario to achieve a deserved crescendo to his fine talent. Larry Murphy, Paul Coffey, Mark Recchi, Kevin Stevens, Phil Borque, Ulf Samuelsson, goalie Tom Barrasso and so many other pieces of the puzzle came together, revealing a Stanley Cup with the Pittsburgh Penguins’ names engraved on one of its glistening cylinders.

One of those names was the newly acquired town favorite, Jaromir Jagr. Taken fifth-overall by the franchise in the NHL entry draft, the skinny Czechoslovakian quickly became an integral cog in the Pens' ice hockey machine. 

In 1992, the Penguins repeated as champions and the potential of Jagr’s talents was viewed by the nation on an incredible play in the Stanley Cup Finals.

Trailing the Chicago Blackhawks with less than five minutes to play, Jaromir stole a puck in the ‘Hawks defensive zone. All of the cone drills in practice paid off, as the superstar zig-zagged around a trio of Chicago defenders before snapping a shot past the off-balanced Ed Belfour.

In sports, there are moments—snapshots—frozen against the backdrop of moving time, reserved for defining greatness. Jagr’s dizzying shot was one of many disorienting, yet divine, moments in a career of razzle-dazzle.

And, as if any affirmation was needed, Lemieux sold the greatness that was already so evident, describing Jagr’s clutch shot as the greatest goal he’d ever seen.

How about that for an endorsement?

As confirmations of greatness are concerned, “68” didn't fall short for filling his trophy case. 

Hart Trophy? Check.

Lester P. Pearson Award? Check.

He even won an Olympic gold medal. 

As Lemieux aged and the repeat champions disassembled from Stanley Cup winners to playoff contenders, it was the young Jagr who blossomed into his prime and promised to carry the Penguins into the future as hockey’s best player.

In his last home appearance, Lemieux scored a breakaway goal on Flyers’ goalie Ron Hextall, preventing a sweep by Philadelphia over Pittsburgh.

Game 5 stopped, music blared over the Civic Arena loudspeakers and Lemieux stood with stick in glove as fans jubilantly screamed in his honor.

It was the way a hero is supposed to leave those who love him. 

The Steel City’s unwavering devotion after Mario left? Jagr never quite won Pittsburgh over to such a degree, but the town relished in his greatness and easily bestowed him as the heartbeat of a hockey team that would be mediocre without him.

The Penguins were still considered a perennial power in hockey circles due to Jagr’s presence. The ranking may have been premature, inspired from the recent successes, but the athlete was certainly the pride of Pittsburgh hockey.

Jagr was considered the best player in hockey. In 1999, this sentiment reached its highest point. In a game at Madison Square Garden, the timeless Wayne Gretzky played for the last time. So endeared to the hearts of the fans, Gretzky listened as the National Anthem was adjusted to conclude with the altered ending of “And the Home of Wayne Gretzky!”

It was the way a hero is supposed to leave those who love him. 

Fittingly, the game went into overtime and Jagr scored to lift the Pens to a 2-1 victory. The sports world dubbed this as a passing of the torch, the game’s former greatest player handing the NHL reins over to its current standout.

The standout continued to play well. As a league-leading scorer, perhaps too much focus was put on the individual as opposed to the team.

The Penguins barely made the playoffs in 1999, but the .500 squad beat the top-ranked Devils, heavy favorites to win the Stanley Cup. Jagr’s game-tying and overtime winning goals in Game 6 prevented Pittsburgh from losing at a time when they were mired in controversy.

It was the stuff of heroes. Yet the team barely had winning records after 1996, though they continued to make the playoffs and play relatively well.

Seizing an opportunity to return to the lineup, Mario Lemieux stunned Pittsburgh with his announcement of a planned return in late 2000. Immediately invigorated by the return, Penguins fans had visions of a third Stanley Cup. 

Not everybody was thrilled by the return, marking the beginning of Jagr’s unfortunate exit from the team. Jaromir continued to carry captaincy of the franchise, but it was clear that Mario was the city’s chosen son.

Feeling slighted, and perhaps degraded, whisperings of Jagr’s desire to leave the franchise that he kept stable during uncertain times (the team was already mired in bankruptcy) proved to be accurate.

The phenomenal athlete, possibly the second greatest player to ever wear the Penguins uniform, even to-date, was viewed as a crybaby.

The attempt to congeal a team that needed one key piece for a binding affinity failed as—per speculation—Jagr felt slighted by the Pittsburgh public for keying in on Lemieux’s return as the contingent factor for the team’s success.

Playing for the Washington Capitals and New York Rangers in subsequent seasons, the All-Star was chastised by Pittsburgh fans and the media anytime he touched the rubber biscuit. His returns to the newly named Mellon Arena were marked by a chorus of boo’s, a bitter irony when placed against a backdrop of his early career.

It was NOT the way a hero is supposed to leave those who are supposed to love him.

And perhaps that was the biggest issue. Maybe Jagr felt that the fans had an obligation to herald him to a degree that was simply unrealistic. Or, Jagr may have just desired a change in scenery after many loyal seasons in the Black and Gold.

Either way, he became a figure of dichotomous reactions, as passionately loved as he was despised by faithful followers who once called him “Mario, Jr.” Fans discovered that the letters of Jaromir could be rearranged to spell the aforementioned by a perceived “stroke of destiny.”

Many days have passed.

A new generation of stars has achieved hockey’s greatest prize. 

Sidney Crosby, Marc-Andre Fleury, Evgeni Malkin and Brooks Orpik are a few of many great players who currently electrify today’s generation of Pittsburgh Penguins fans at the new Console Energy Center.

Like Pittsburgh’s scarred relationship with its former star, the old Civic Arena still stands in the Steel City, the gray half-orb seemingly stemming up from the ground as a remembrance of great memories that have since passed. Yet, for all of the glory of yesterday’s generation, not everything has felt right.

The ending of Jagr’s career in Pittsburgh seemed disjointed from a love affair between a great player and his fans that dominated a dozen seasons. 

Now, with a new arena, a new cast of talent and a new breath of fresh air, the Penguins are negotiating with Jagr for a brief return, a potential one-year deal that would strike a connection between two great eras. 

More importantly, as an opportunity to rewrite the final stages of a city’s relationship with one of its three finest players is concerned, perhaps the past was not an ending at all. Maybe—just maybe—a richer ending is due for both the franchise and its former star.

Nobody is mistaking today’s Jaromir Jagr with the ice-melting dynamo who, as the famed radio announcer Mike Lang would say, “scratched Ed Belfour’s back with a hacksaw!” 

Yet, with enough determination from a former heavyweight looking to validate a fine career with a last hurrah, there might just be enough great play left to mark the difference between Stanley and “nearly.” Seeking a short contract and the option of properly retiring a great NHL career, the 39-year-old is surely motivated.

Perhaps all of those amazing shots and game-ending goals will be relived with better karma if the Pittsburgh icon is able to bridge his revered past with a suitable conclusion.

And maybe—just maybe—the fan in me will find solace from a more fitting ending to a hero’s departure from the fans who loved him.