Interference is a bit of a dirty word in today’s NHL. Most fans hear it and immediately think about goals being reviewed for goaltender interference, a rule that plenty of us still don’t understand (even though we should). But even outside the crease, it’s a very dicey concept, one filled with gray areas and interpretations. Sometimes it gets called. Sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes it decides a Game 7, but who’s counting? The point is that nobody can really agree on what exactly it means or how it should be enforced.
Back in the olden days, we had a solution to this problem: We just completely ignored the whole concept.
Look, I didn’t say it was a good solution. In fact, it quite clearly wasn’t. But we apparently didn’t know any better.
Don’t believe me? Let me introduce you to one of my favorite time-killing rabbit holes. It’s a little game I like to call “dig up pretty much any old hockey clip from the 80s or 90s and spot the uncalled interference.” The name might need work, but it’s fun and it’s what we’re going to play today.
Let’s find some memorable moments from the era, and then go looking for the incredibly obvious interference that doesn’t get called. Was the game better that way? Is there a lesson to be learned here? Am I making some larger point? Not really, but it’s an excuse to watch old YouTube clips in late August, so let’s grab some popcorn and put away the whistles.
Mario’s Canada Cup winner
OK, it’s not technically an NHL moment, but we might as well start with what has to be the most famous example of the genre.
The goal: It’s the third and deciding game of the 1987 Canada Cup final, and Canada and the Soviets are tied at 5-5 late in regulation. Canada sends out its super line of Mario Lemieux, Wayne Gretzky and Dale Hawerchuk for a defensive-zone faceoff, and within seconds they’re heading down the ice on a three-on-one that leads to the most famous goal of Lemieux’s career.
But wait: How did that innocuous breakout turn into a three-on-one? Where did Hawerchuk go, since it’s actually Larry Murphy who jumps up to become the third man in the rush?
As it turns out, those two questions are related, as we see in the replay. Hawerchuk is right with Lemieux when the rush starts, but then decides to peel off and pitchfork the only backchecking Soviet player who has a chance at catching Mario. He’s not even subtle about it, he’s just like “No, I don’t think you’ll be participating in this play, down you go.” On behalf of Canadian hockey fans, we were all completely fine with it and agreed to never mention this whenever this play gets brought up.
David Volek ends the threepeat
With the 1993 Penguins looking for a third straight Cup, they’re facing the Islanders in a surprisingly tough series. It’s Game 7, and after a furious late comeback to force overtime, it’s next goal wins. And that goal is about to happen.
The goal: After an offensive zone turnover, the Penguins surrender a three-on-two. Ray Ferraro gets the puck across to David Volek on the two-on-one, and he buries it past Tom Barrasso to end the series.
But wait: Gee, that three-on-two suddenly turned into a two-on-one, how did that happen?
The answer involves the third Islander. He’s the guy who starts the play with a step on the second Penguins defenseman, only to get blatantly hooked out of the play. (Hooking was also completely legal back then.) This Islanders player realizes that the Penguins player is going to try the old “water-ski slingshot” move, so he does the smart thing: He just stops skating. Seriously, watch him — he just stops moving, forcing his opponent to run into him so he can’t get back into the play. He’s basically looking over his shoulder at the guy the whole time.
That clever move helped end a mini-dynasty. Huh, maybe the NHL is rigged against the Penguins after all.
Pavel Bure splits the Devils
Mid-90s Pavel Bure was awesome. That is all.
The goal: The play starts off as a nice one-on-one matchup between a pair of future Hall of Famers in Bure and Scott Niedermayer. It doesn’t stay that way, and within seconds Bure has split the entire Devils team and is deking Chris Terreri out of his shorts.
But wait: By this point, I’m guessing it won’t shock you to find out what happens to Niedermayer.
As soon as Bure has the puck and starts to build speed, the Canucks all know what to do, looking like a football offensive line getting downfield after a screen pass. Defenseman Evgeny Namestnikov has the key block, as he just casually skates over to Niedermayer, gets in his way, and then lays a stick across his chest just in case he has any ideas about actually participating in the play at all.
That’s pretty bad, but an underrated part of this play is Vancouver forward Greg Adams looking around for someone else to interfere with, only to have one of the Devils reach out and trip him first. Got to be quicker than that, Gus, it’s the 90s.
Theo Fleury slides into Game 7
It’s the 1991 Smythe final, and we’re getting a classic Battle of Alberta between the two most recent Stanley Cup champs.
The goal: The Oilers are leading the series 3-2 as Game 6 heads to overtime, so you know something crazy is about to happen. Theo Fleury eventually converts a Mark Messier turnover into the most famous goal (and celebration) of his career.
But wait: First of all, I think we can all agree that the Messier turnover is clearly CGI’d because he was the greatest leader in sports and would never be careless with the puck like that. Probably the same online vandals who keep photoshopping him into a Canucks uniform.
But more importantly, let’s give some credit to Jamie Macoun for his role in making this moment happen. As soon as Fleury picks off the pass, Macoun does a quick calculation and remembers he’s a defensive defenseman who isn’t getting a pass from a 50-goal scorer here. So he does the logical thing, reaching out to hook Jeff Beukeboom. It’s not quite as blatant as some of the other ones we’ve seen, but it gets the job done, giving Fleury the extra step he needs to get in alone.
My only criticism here is that Macoun could have doubled up and also taken out Messier. Then again, given their history, he probably didn’t want to go near him.
Jagr goes through the Hawks
As good as he was, Mario Lemieux couldn’t get the Penguins over the hump on his own. But in 1990, a skinny rookie with ridiculous hair showed up, and the rest was history. After winning their first Cup in 1991, the Penguins went for the repeat against the Blackhawks in 1992.
The goal: Just one guy decking out an entire team. Honestly, pretty standard early-90s Penguins stuff.
But wait: By now you’re used to what hockey of that era looked like, so it might amaze you that a one versus five goal doesn’t feature the entire rest of the Penguins team tackling guys to open up space. Instead, most of them basically take the shift off and let Jagr work his magic on his own.
The lone exception is Shawn McEachern, number 15, and he’s out here putting in work. He starts by subtly kicking Brent Sutter’s skate, then finds himself next to Frantisek Kucera in the slot. This leads to one of those fun moments when both guys decide to try to interfere with each other at the same time, which was always confusing. But McEachern gets the edge by reaching out and grabbing Kucera’s stick, holding on for a full four seconds to allow Jagr to breeze by the defenseman. McEachern then looks for someone else to block and collides with Bryan Marchment, by which point Jagr is basically home free.
Three separate interference attempts in a 10-second clip. I’d throw a hat at my TV, but I’m assuming Shawn McEachern would get in the way before it landed.
The Home Alone goal
Honestly, this one isn’t even a great example, it’s just here because it makes me laugh.
The goal: Sometimes, a Game 7 is a classic. Sometimes, one team is ahead 4-0 before the end of the first period. This 1993 showdown between the Leafs and Blues was the latter, courtesy of Wendel Clark.
But wait: I just love the way that both Glenn Anderson and Ron Sutter are clearly looking to interfere with each other. Anderson heads straight for him like he’s charging the mound, while Sutter goes for the more subtle “pretend you don’t see him and then stick out the leg” veteran move. It’s only at the last second when they realize that they’re about to end each other’s careers that they both bail. Meanwhile, Clark goes completely ignored and untouched and scores the goal. I thoroughly enjoyed 1993 hockey.
By the way, nice work there by Curtis Joseph, who gave up six goals in that game and is still best remembered for the one that he stopped.
Facing a dynasty
So what do you do if you’re fighting for a scoring chance in playoff overtime, and somebody gets in your way and knocks you down? If you said “frantically wave your arms around at the referee to plead for a call,” you are an NHL player in the 2020s. If you said “sit on top of that guy and then use his head to knock the puck off his teammate’s stick,” you’re John Tonelli and you have a mittful of Stanley Cup rings because you are a winner.
The goal: It’s 1984, and the Islanders’ dynasty is facing elimination in Game 5 against the Rangers. Winners find a way.
But wait: Is it even really interference if the guy you’re checking has the puck? Yes, I’d argue, if you’re checking him with his own teammate’s face, but I’m not a rulebook expert.
One more Mario classic
I know this has already been heavy on Mario and the Penguins, but we need to finish with this one, if only because it might somehow be both the best and the worst goal of the era. The best because, well, just watch. The worst because what makes it so great is the complete disregard for the rulebook on display. Sorry that it was filmed with a potato.
The goal: You cannot stop Mario, you can only hope to contain him, and also you cannot do that either, because you are the Quebec Nordiques.
But wait: How many penalties does that poor defensemen commit while trying to stop Mario? I think you could probably find at least five hooks, holds and slashes. At one point he just gives up and goes for a ride on Mario’s back like he’s Baby Yoda. It’s not even that weird, because this happened to Lemieux on most shifts. Gosh, I can’t imagine why the guy once called the NHL a garage league.
In fact, if you’re a fan of Lemieux’s work in that era, there’s only one thing that might seem unusual about this clip — there’s only one guy dragging behind him, instead of the usual two or more than we see on his other goals. . That is when you might notice the open-field tackle that a Penguins teammate pulls off in the neutral zone to take out the other defenseman.
Honestly, you can’t even complain about this one if you’re from Quebec. Hey ref, they dragged down our guy before he could catch up to Mario and hit him over the head with a folding chair.
Hockey in the 80s and 90s. Fun, and also terrible. But now you know how to enjoy it properly, with a fun round of “find the interference.” Please post links to your own examples in the comments section so that none of us are tempted to work today.
(Top photo of Jaromir Jagr after Game 1 of the 1992 Stanley Cup Final: B Bennett / Getty Images)
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