One of the fun parts of covering an NHL team as long as I have, with so many great European players that have played for it, is to make friends with the hockey writers from those respective European countries. I go back 25 years with some Swedish and Finnish hockey writers. I give them tips on their players when they are in Denver, and they give me tips when the players are back home and something happens.
God, if I had a dollar for every broken-English conversation I’ve had with a Swede or Finn hockey writer over the phone! Don’t forget who we’ve had here in this fair city of ours, playing hockey. Swedes by the names of Forsberg and Landeskog, Finns by the names of Rantanen and Kurri, to name just a few.
Peter Forsberg literally cost my employers probably into the high hundreds of dollars in long-distance phone bills, before the Internet made it cheap and easy to converse overseas. Half the time, I’d be yelling “Wait, what? The line broke up. What? What?” into the receiver, and the Swede reporter would be saying that to me in return.