Head of the Class
  

When I grow tired of bad guys like Brett Hull, Tie Domi, Sean Avery and their antics, what brings me back to the reason why I cover this game are guys like Nieuwendyk.

This column will not be about who scored when and who is beating whom, but anecdotes about why three NHL players have a special meaning to me.

ONE MAN ALONE

The Dallas Stars visited Staples Center late in the 2001-02 season and were pasted by the Los Angeles Kings. After the game, the Stars' locker room was silent. The silence was broken by Brett Hull, who angrily cursed at the small media gathering, telling them he had nothing to say.

And then Joe Nieuwendyk entered the room.

For the next twenty minutes, Joe stood in the middle of dressing room and quietly answered every question put at him; the class he demonstrated was rarely among any pro athlete in any sport. He never raised his voice, even when criticizing his team for their poor play. I was amazed at the calm resonating from his voice and had wish Mr. Hull had taken note.
 

As Tay-Sachs is indigenous to primarily Jewish families, I decided to have Mathieu Schneider as our spokesperson. At the time, Schneider played for the New York Islanders and is one of the few Jewish players ever to play in the NHL. After discussing matters with the Islanders' PR department, we drove out to Nassau Coliseum to tape the PSA. After an Islanders' spirited practice, Mathieu met us in the bowels of the arena and we proceeded. My son was tired from the drive and wasn't awake for most of the taping, but Mathieu was happy to read from hand written cue cards and did about a dozen takes before we were done.

Although Taylor was in a wheelchair and it was a difficult taping logistically, Mathieu gave us his biggest smile and his sincerity shined throughout, never once complaining that we were taking too much of his time. Though the PSA aired briefly because Mathieu was traded shortly afterward to Toronto, I owe him a debt of gratitude that can never be repaid.

NEVER FORGET

I got to know Martin Brodeur during the summer of the Devils first Stanley Cup championship. There were many parties in northern New Jersey and a great friend of mine, John Artinian, plugged me in to the Devils' network.

Subsequently, I moved to Hackensack, NJ in a high-rise that Martin and his family already resided in.

Like Mathieu, Martin got to meet and know Taylor, he autograph a poster for him and autographed one of his practice sticks. In the subsequent years, whenever I saw Martin he always gave me a big hello. I know that he was unfaithful to his wife Melanie and his public divorce was messy, but all I know of the man is that he was always kind to my family.

Recently, the Devils visited the west coast for the first time since 2003 and I was covering the Kings-Devils match just after Thanksgiving. The Kings won in a shootout and I was waiting around for some quotes.

After losing the shootout, Brodeur was getting dressed in a small room off the main locker room and strode a couple of times back and forth throughout the room. He stopped and did a double take, stuck out his hand, smiled and said, "How are you doing," with a big sincere smile. "I'm doing great, I'm down to my playing weight," was my response as we both laughed. I had not seen him in three years and he remembered me as if it was yesterday that we last met.

So when your teams goes through the motions and you think they are overpriced millionaires athletes (which they are), never forget that there are some special men that still play this game.
 

Dennis Bernstein, the man behind SCORE! Media, is a columnist for TheFourthPeriod.com and the Los Angeles Correspondent for The Fourth Period Magazine.