Le Magnifique has become Mr. Meeting. Sixty-six now works roughly from nine to five. The wardrobe has changed from retiree sweater to new suit, the address from the serene shadows of his favorite fairways to the harsh spotlight of public scrutiny.
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| | Mario Lemieux sits between meetings yesterday in the Downtown law offices of Pepper Hamilton, overlooking the Civic Arena. (Martha Rial, Post-Gazette) |
A funny thing happened to Mario Lemieux on his way to a life of golf, family and oblivion: He had himself fitted for business wear and a desk job, then began to relish his five-month march toward potential Penguins ownership.
"It took awhile to get used to it. Long days," Lemieux said the other day, slipping off his blue suit jacket and placing it over a chair in the high-rise Downtown office of attorney Chuck Greenberg. He nodded toward Greenberg and added with a grin, "He's working me hard.
"But it's something I enjoy now. You meet some interesting people."
And you meet.
And you meet.
The guy has more meetings than the late Badger Bob Johnson ever dreamed of holding inside of the Penguins' locker room. NHL Commissioner Gary Bettman has huddled at least four times with Lemieux, Greenberg and others from this self-proclaimed Team Lemieux. U.S. Sen. Rick Santorum, Gov. Ridge, Mayor Murphy, County Commissioner Mike Dawida (twice), City Councilman Bob O'Connor, Fox Sports Pittsburgh officials and more have met with him to chat about the former hockey superstar possibly saving the franchise a second time - Lemieux Part Deux, if you will.
Yesterday, when his group filed its reorganization plan, there was a meeting with state Sen. Jack Wagner, D-Beechview, about his proposal for a new arena. Today, there's a date in bankruptcy court and more work to do.
"It's actually the last spot I expected him to be in," said Tom Grealish, a Pittsburgh insurance executive and longtime Lemieux friend. "But, from an outsider looking in, he looks like he's having a lot of fun. I really think he is enjoying himself."
Prying a puck from an unsuspecting defenseman was nothing compared to prying finances, or more friendly contract terms, from business types.
It has been a new game for a retiree to learn, yet he stands ready to leap from the dasher boards to the boardroom.
"When I retired two years ago, I didn't see myself being involved with an [NHL] organization," said the Hall of Famer, who predicted then that he would get into a business within a year or so, but something far less ambitious - like owning a golf course. "I had no idea. I just wanted to take a year off, play some golf, travel a little bit, take care of the kids. Times change. After two years of playing golf...I feel like I have a great opportunity to get back in the game and make a difference.
"I don't think it's ever been done before, a player having an opportunity to become an owner. That excites me."
Imagine, the player who likened the NHL to a "garage league" a decade ago now taking a seat on its Board of Governors. Lemieux can imagine himself there, helping to effect change and steer a game he used to criticize.
"To have an impact at the ownership level, certainly I would look forward to that," he added. "All we're trying to do is make the game better."
What if Lemieux performs this leap with panache, the same way he scored on his first NHL shift, on his first NHL shot? What next, commissioner?
"Not for a while," he said with a grin. Bettman, he added, will occupy that seat for some time.
The retiree has learned this new game, indeed.
Team meal
The arena was Morton's of Chicago, the Downtown steakhouse. The time was late October. That was where and when both Team Lemieux and the plan for his Penguins future were formed.
The folks around the dinner table digested the possibilities along with dinner: Lemieux, Greenberg, agents Tom and Steve Reich, and others. The roughly $27.5 million in deferred salary owed to the former Penguins captain could wind up becoming pennies on the dollar because of the team's bankruptcy. One alternative for Lemieux was to fold a portion of that money into equity and lead a group of potential buyers. That meant taking a risk, changing a lifestyle, emerging from the shadows, asking friends and strangers for money to invest in a business already $100 million in debt.
Lemieux agreed. The potential Penguins president paid for dinner. "Again," he teased.
"Since retirement, he's been very focused on this [Penguins contract issue] and very determined," said Grealish, who oversees the Mario Lemieux Foundation, which raises money for cancer research (Lemieux was treated for Hodgkin's disease in 1993). "When he puts his mind to something, it really goes, it really works."
Lemieux admits that part of his objective is to get the money his friend and former employer Howard Baldwin had pledged to him through contracts written and rewritten earlier in the decade. He also maintains that he wants to keep hockey in Pittsburgh. As he has stated in interview after interview, he didn't play for 12 years to see the team leave two years after he retired.
"When I get involved with something, I want to make sure it gets done the right way," Lemieux said. "This is the perfect situation for me to come in and do the right thing for the fans and the city of Pittsburgh."
The retiree went out and bought a dressier wardrobe than the suits he had worn on road trips and to awards dinners. "I was due for a new collection."
Then came the meetings, the hours. He leaves Nathalie with their four children in the morning and returns to their Sewickley home for dinner.
No, the wife doesn't accuse him of trying this venture simply to get out of watching the kids. (After all, he took their only son, Austin, to the Penguins-Dallas game Tuesday.) Nathalie has noticed the long hours her husband spends Downtown and has planted the idea that she probably will need an extra set of hands around the house.
Of his family and friends, he said: "They're very supportive of what I'm trying to do, and they understand what's at stake. Nothing but positives from my friends and family. That makes it easier."
Sure, the commitment translated into less time on the links and in his other home in South Florida. He golfed once last week but, he joked, "My game's suffering." He did spend time in Florida last month, playing golf during a stop on the Celebrity Players Tour - yet even that was a business trip.
There he chatted up friend Dan Marino, the Miami Dolphins quarterback from Pitt and Central Catholic High. The two golfed, by Lemieux's count, 20 times last winter and became close. Now here came Lemieux, without lawyers or advisers, asking his golfing buddy if he wanted to invest in the hometown hockey team.
"But it was pretty easy to talk to him about it," Lemieux said.
Doors open or telephone calls get returned because he is Mario Lemieux, Hall of Famer, retired superstar. He understands that. He tries to use that to his advantage.
Then again, doors open or telephones ring simply because people want to get close to Mario Lemieux. Such as the fellow who offered to raffle off a mobile home and raise $50 million. Wielding a photocopy of the vehicle, Greenberg said, "It even has a toaster with a browning element."
Lemieux burned defensemen as a center. Now he must tread carefully lest he burn bridges as the center of possible new ownership.
The boss
So he finds himself meeting with politicians and business people, acknowledging applause when he sits among the fans in the Civic Arena , appearing in Montreal at his induction to the Quebec Major Junior Hockey League Hall of Fame and talking to the media about government intervention being necessary for the survival of Canadian NHL clubs.
He has conducted one-on-one interviews with USA Today, the New York Times (in which he referred to a significant single investor as simply "Mr. Wonderful"), Pittsburgh television and radio stations. He has become a focal point where he prefers to blend in. He has become the butt of a joke in The Boston Globe, where pre-eminent hockey writer Kevin Paul Dupont opined about the potential involvement of singer Celine Dion: "How wise would it be to have a co-owner whose voice is synonymous with a sinking ship?"
Yet Lemieux believes he can be the same person he was when he was a player.
In fact, he still talks the same game: A successful team, Stanley Cup hopes, taking that silver hardware for a dip in another Lemieux pool.
He visited the Penguins' locker room last week, potential president with potential employees, and professed to feel no different
"It's not any different from my perspective," Lemieux said. "I've had that relationship with Howard Baldwin when he was the owner and he was still a good friend. I still feel the same way when I go down and see Jaromir [Jagr] and Tom Barrasso. I don't anticipate the friendships changing that much.
"I think it's got to come naturally," he added, referring to his leadership style. "Part of being the owner is making decisions to have the right people - surrounding yourself with the best people possible. I've been able to do that in my career and my life. I intend to do that in the future."
His only wonder, only concern, is whether he can sit himself behind a desk for hours on end.
"I think it would be a big change," he said. He grinned again. "I don't know. Hopefully, I'll find out soon."