I asked Jeff Beukeboom, an NHL “enforcer.”
I won’t start from the beginning because I don’t want to bore you. Anyway, I was assigned to write about the Rangers’ unofficial mascot, Dancing Larry, a diehard fan who danced in between periods to the delight of the Madison Square Garden rowdies.
During the game, I interviewed Dancing Larry.
Before he started dancing at games, Dancing Larry was Larry Goodman, just another Jersey guy who was working at a chain music store. Larry wanted more than the retail life, but he didn’t know what it was. At one point, Larry tried acting classes. When Dancing George, another dancing Rangers fan, missed a few games, Larry saw his opportunity and promptly got up and started shaking it. Ever since, Larry hasn’t stopped dancing.
Easy peasy.
Well, not so fast. Interviewing Dancing Larry and his cronies was only the first portion of my work for the evening. Unfortunately, my editor wanted something else. He needed a quote, just one quote, from Rangers defenseman/enforcer Jeff Beukeboom for an unrelated piece. Specifically, he wanted me to get a quote from Beukeboom in response to Rangers goalie Mike Richter’s remark that he had “a huge ass.” Without thinking, I agreed to do it; I needed to please.
But as I wandered down to the Rangers locker room, I was berating myself for agreeing to do it. It wasn’t my article, and I wasn’t getting compensated for the extra work, which just might get me punched out. Also, it just wasn’t my style. I interview the goofy guy dancing in the stands. I don’t provoke players, particularly ones that are 6-foot-5 and serve as their team’s enforcer. Beukeboom is second on the Rangers’ all-time list for penalty minutes logged.
But I didn’t want to wimp out. And I’m a professional, at least at interviewing goofy guys dancing in the cheap seats.
Richter has a point (Photo by John Giamundo/Getty Images)
With my press pass draped around my neck, I had no trouble getting back to the locker room. Behind the scenes, it was nothing like I imagined: there was chaos, equipment everywhere, guys on walkie-talkies. And with the players out of uniform, I couldn’t tell anyone apart. In street clothes, these hockey guys all look the same. (In fact, a year or so earlier, at a Rangers fundraiser that I was covering, one fan confused me for Rangers player Sergei Nemchinov.)
For a few minutes, I walked around the post-game confusion, praying that Beukeboom had left the building. Meanwhile, I worked on my alibi for my editor. I tried. I really did. But the man dressed within minutes and was gone, vanished!
As I continued to pray, I went through the motions and asked around. Unfortunately, someone pointed him out near the doorway. You couldn’t miss him. He was by far the largest man in the locker room area. I apprehensively introduced myself. He looked down at me, all ears. I suppose I looked official enough with my press pass, which did not specify that I was there to interview the goofy dancing guy, not the players.
There was no time for bunnies, warm-up questions. “I just have one question.”
“Sure,” he said. Fortunately, he seemed in a non-violent mood. Maybe he wouldn’t punch me in the face.
“I’m sure this was said in jest,” I muttered quickly, holding out my recorder as he waited. “Richter . . . ,” I sputter. “Richter says you have a huge ass,” I somehow managed to get it out. “Care to comment?” For a moment, he said nothing. “Is that so?” Beukeboom finally said, as I braced myself.
Fortunately, Beukeboom broke into a broad smile. He wasn’t gonna ram my head through the wall after all. He was amused. In fact, he acted like a complete gentleman and delivered a very polite, brief, generic response, which my publication never used.
I thanked Beukeboom profusely and left the Garden, pleased that I had interviewed Dancing Larry and ecstatic that Beukeboom hadn’t beaten the crap out of me.
_____________________
Jon Hart is the author of Unfortunately, I was available Illustrated by Coverkitchen
