"Oh, you cover ice hockey?"
Yeah, I do. The question had come from a Danish sports writer sharing my bus ride up a mountain in Russia. Those of us who've covered the Olympics those rides can cover a lot of hours, in this case a lot of vertical kilometers since we were heading way up some Sochi mountain to find the bobsled track ... and countless subjects.
He wanted to tell me about Lars Eller. I had time, so I listened.
"He plays for Montreal."
I mean, I knew that much. This was in 2014, and Eller had a decent first couple of NHL seasons. But what I hadn't realized was that he, like my new friend, was from Denmark, not exactly a hockey hotbed.
"Do you know why he made it to the NHL? And why other players from our country don't?"
I didn't.
"Because he's so smart. Smarter than everybody else."
That's how I recall that part of the conversation, anyway. What I can't recall is all that came after because, in all candor, he kept on going about all that Eller represents to his country, to the sport there ... and I'd already begun thinking about bobsled.
At the same time, it stuck. The same way someone will mention something just once, and it sticks. Can't un-see it. Can't un-hear it. So, as Eller would migrate to the Capitals, and he'd become a significant figure in the rivalry with the local franchise, I'd always watch Eller through that particular prism: That he was so smart. Smarter than everybody else.
And now that he's further migrated, traded to the Avalanche amid the 2022-23 NHL season and now signed by the Penguins out of free agency at age 34 to a two-year, $4.9 million contract, I'm here now to share my own observation that ... well, let's do some digging with a handful of examples before I declare anything:
My goodness.
I could end this feature right here, but that'd be no fun.
In order: Eller chops the puck from the neutral zone forward into the Detroit zone with one hand on the stick and the backhand of the blade. Upon getting double-teamed and having his shaft tied up, he elects to use his left skate to keep possession ... even though it means he'll lose his balance. Falling to the ice, he stays aware of where the puck is, hand-passes to himself, chips to his teammate, bounces back up on his skates, offers a passing option and, after a shot by the teammate, he collects the rebound, then pulls off the slightest but sweetest toe-drag to alter his shooting angle and kiss the far post.
If I'm lyin', I'm dyin':
Not to give the wrong impression here. Eller's never scored a ton, and he won't here, either. He's never had more than 18 goals in a season and he's coming off one of just 10.
That's not my general point. At all. Rather, it's the intelligence, the poise and presence, and how those get applied all over the rink.
This one's just plain silly:
Everyone in Ottawa, maybe even the prime minister, quit on this sequence. Except for two people: Eller and the ref. Watch Eller's eyes. They never leave the puck. He sees that it's loose. He's aware that no whistle blew. But rather than storming forward and giving up the gig, he casually comes to a T-stop by the crease, then pokes the puck home.
This one's got a lot to like:
One shift. And when the situation called for a cycle, he cycled. When it called for a pass, it was tape-to-tape. When it called for a presence in front, he went there, got knocked down, got right back up. When it called for retrieval, he handled the reset. And when he felt it was the best option to shoot, he let one go, even though it was from the far boards.
Whereas, on this one, he chose only one off the menu:
The other four skaters had everything going, so he planted his posterior near the paint and was a big part of a goal without registering a point. The smartest play's often the simplest play.
I don't care who laughs at me, but this one's my favorite:
It's critical to stress here that this was from Game 7 of Colorado's playoff series with the Kraken. A time for panic. A time for doing things one normally might not. Instead, Eller smoothly follows his pinching defenseman -- though not too far -- maintains eyes in the back of his head as to where that defenseman's shifted between the hashes, then effortlessly intercepts the centering pass.
But even that's not it.
After he's got possession, there's no nervous backhand flip, no worry at all. He freezes the rink around him with confidence, pushes three Seattle players backward in doing so, and skates tall out of the zone.
Don't bite my head off for this, but that's a Ron Francis play. That's what that is.
I'm not comparing Eller's career to that of a Hall of Famer. That'd be idiotic. Rather, I'm citing what that very, very specific scene up there kindles for me. There was never any situation in which Francis would lock up or look rushed, and it was principally because ... well, Ronnie was once the smartest guy on the ice.
This is why Kyle Dubas sounded so bona fide extra-stoked about signing Eller, saying a month ago, "The Eller signing we thought was really, really key for us. That's one we're very happy about."
They should be. They haven't had this type of player in far too long. Heck, it's been forever since Mike Sullivan's had anyone on his bench he could send over the boards to hold a late lead, or follow up a goal or finish off a period. Eller slots in optimally at third-line center, the same role he was filling for the Avalanche. He can still extend that long, flowing stride, he can still operate at a high skill level, and he still maintains as his top priority preventing goals, not scoring them.
"Playing behind those guys," Eller would say last week in referring to the two centers ahead of him, Sidney Crosby and Evgeni Malkin, "I think for me and guys like me, it'll be our job to support them with secondary scoring and being very hard to play against."
Smart.
