By Drew Sharp
IT'S THE European way to keep emotions on a tight leash, which is why Jiri Fischer was so surprised when his father approached him following practice earlier this week, hugged him, and told him he was so very proud of his 19-year-old son.
"That was the first time my father ever said that about me playing hockey," said the Wings' talented rookie defenseman.
It's not that his father was insensitive or unfeeling. It's just another example of what happens when cultures conflict. Whereas we freely toss around platitudes, Czechs rarely shower praise for fear it might breed contentment.
"I don't ever remember him telling me that I played well," Fischer said. "It was always, 'You did all right, but you know you can do better.' That's just the way that Czech people are. We probably don't take ourselves as seriously as Americans might."
Fischer confessed to some nerves in his first game against the despised Colorado Avalanche on Wednesday. But it wasn't so much who was on the ice, but rather who was in the stands -- his parents, Jiri and Vera, visiting from the Czech Republic.
He still awaits his first NHL point, but Fischer got his first taste of how the emotions can stir in this rivalry. Four straight goals don't exactly erase the memory of four straight playoff losses, but the Wings' 5-3 victory was a start.
Spend a few minutes with this young man and you immediately grasp that he's special, precociously aware yet nonetheless amazed at what's unfolding around him. Only one month into his NHL career, Fischer has seen how the glare of celebrity can blind one's perspective.
He doesn't understand why those of all ages clamor for his scribble on a team sweater or game program when he was raised in a world that appreciated the authentic heroism of those who diligently performed their thankless tasks for menial wages, but nonetheless felt fulfilled.
He was just another customer walking into a bank wanting to cash a check. Until the teller saw the winged wheel on the check.
"In Czech Republic, we don't put athletes up there (on a pedestal) like you do here," Fischer said. "It takes some getting used to, but all you can do is hope that it doesn't change the way to think about yourself and why you're here. And that's to be the best hockey player that I can become."
He's gradually adapting to the trappings of his new life. He has a new car and he'll soon be settled into a nice apartment. But this is still the little kid who was so excited about his first NHL game that he asked to keep the sweater he wore, sweat and blood intact, as a cherished keepsake.
Fischer's biggest advantage in maintaining that equilibrium is his upbringing. His father supervises German exportation at a large Czech appliance manufacturer. His mother is an accountant. By Czech standards, Fischer was a child of privilege, so perhaps he more clearly appreciates the radical changes his life has taken than most.
"I'm not any more special than the next person just because I'm good enough to play hockey," he said. "I know that it's an honor. It's like how one person gets to go to a certain college but another person can't. It may not be that the person who got in was that much smarter, but that he also was very fortunate as well."
Fischer is fortunate to play, watch, learn and appreciate the opportunity he's getting. His first taste of how a Wings-Avs game can electrify the senses only further whets his appetite for the next bite.
