by T.J. O'Connor
They made their mark throughout the NHL regular season, and continue to do so in this year's playoffs. The players who many said wouldn't have even made it to the NHL. They are the little big men, and they are showing scouts, coaches and general managers that the cliché is true.
It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog.
In New Jersey, listed as 5'7" you have the NHL's smallest player, Brian Gionta, second in team scoring during the playoffs, leading the team in goals during the regular season. In Buffalo, there's Daniele Briere scoring a tying goal and then the overtime winner against big bad Philadelphia. In Nashville, Paul Kariya set up four goals in the first game against San Jose. Montreal's Francis Bouillon patrols the blueline without fear, all 5'8" of him. With the Tampa Bay Lightening, Dan Boyle gets a highlight reel goal against Ottawa, and Martin St. Louis scores a pair, carrying his team on his back.
These are players who lack size only. In every other department - skating, shooting, stickhandling and, especially, heart and grit, they measure up to or stand taller than their physically imposing teammates and opponents.
But what exactly does this heart, grit and determination mean to a player? How do these qualities transfer to their view of themselves in the game, and their actions on the ice?
I must admit, I have a soft spot for small players, the little big men. Being a mere 5'6" and 140 pounds, I certainly qualify in the little department. Whether I qualify is a little big man on the ice or not is a judgement I'll leave to my opponents and teammates.
What I can tell you is that once on the ice, size doesn't matter. It's not a consideration, it's not something small players even think about. On the ice, all are equal, and have the same job to do. And that's why you see Martin St. Louis attempt to check, and succeed in knocking over, 6'9" Zdeno Chara. While the scouts may have doubted him when he was younger, I imagine St. Louis never saw himself as being at a physical disadvantage. As for every other player, each time he jumped a level, to a league higher with stronger players, faster players and smarter players, he had the same job to do as everyone else making that jump: to compete at the new level. And he kept doing this until he made it to the NHL.
What I can also tell you is that there are assets to being a smaller player. All players have assets and liabilities, and the best of the little big men maximize their assets and minimize their liabilities. The assets a smaller player can include the ability to get through holes and seams that a larger player might not fit through. The ability to turn in a sharper radius. The ability to stickhandle in a smaller diameter. The ability to get a shot off quicker. The ability to reach under a larger player to retrieve a puck, rather than having to reach over. And if you look at almost every little big man, you'll find one common asset, one common playing quality: quickness.
Quickness differs from all out speed. While speed is about how fast you can go, quickness is about how fast you can accelerate, how fast you can react, turn, start, stop, change direction and accelerate again. In a game that is played in close quarters with ten skaters limited to the confines of the boards, this quickness is a very valuable asset, allowing players to escape the reach of larger players in the first two or three strides.
You see the smaller players darting in and out, back and forth, like waterbugs.
The other common asset you'll find in all of the little big men is determination. And this is where the heart and grit come in. They've probably spent most of their hockey lives being smaller than everyone else, and have had to prove themselves at every level. (When I was in pee-wee, I was 4'3" while most of my opponents and teammates were at least 5'0"). They love the game so much that, in the face of the continuous skepticism and dismissals, from peewee to bantam to midget to junior to the minors to the show, they never lost faith in themselves, they never lost their love for the game, they never lost their willingness to improve. They never lost their determination.
And now, with the enforcing of NHL rules as they are written, the rules against interference, hooking and holding, we are seeing an emergence of more little big men than we've seen in a long time.
Long live the waterbugs.
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