Tortorella Reax

"When I was doing the research on it today, the one thing I was told is: follow all of the connections. Among the people the Canucks spoke to were Markus Naslund, who played for John Tortorella in New York, he’s formerly a Mike Gillis client… Their assistant Laurence Gilman worked with Tortorella in Phoenix, Chris Higgins played for him. I think also – they did speak to their key players and let the know that this is what we’re thinking of doing.

I think what it came down to… is that it was John Tortorella or John Stephens, and if you ask a lot of other GMs around the league: the media thing is a big wild card; but if you have to win in two years like this Canucks roster probably does, John Tortorella was the best coach available."

"He is more intense, both on the bench throughout the games and between periods and stuff," Naslund said of Tortorella. "But in a good way. In my experience, and that’s only half a season, I thought he was honest and straightforward. And as a player I appreciate that, even if sometimes it’s stuff you might not like to hear. I appreciate people that bring it to you and are up front.

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I didn’t find any comparison in the media scrutiny in New York compared to Vancouver. There is so much focus on the hockey team in Vancouver. It’s something that comes with the territory and you need to be able to handle it if you are the coach. Coming from Tampa to New York was probably a big step media-wise for John. Now it’s another step."

Aquilini, whose family’s investment in the Canucks is every bit as emotional as financial — and they have a tonne of money at stake, has been highly involved in interviewing coaching candidates. One source indicated it was an extremely unusual process, with the managing owner and other Aquilini family members fully participating with Gillis in interviews, rather than allowing hockey operations to sort through candidates before presenting finalists — or the winner — for the boss’s approval.

On the surface, there’s nothing wrong with ownership’s involvement, as long as Aquilini allows Gillis to make the key hockey decisions.

Tortorella is fiery and combative with the media, goes with his gut instinct on roster decisions and doesn’t worry about feelings. Ask Brad Richards. His greatest failing in being fired by the Rangers on May 29 is that he didn’t have anybody wearing the white hat at Madison Square Garden — a guy who could not only accept the role of being a players’ coach, but help Tortorella temper his approach behind the bench and in the front of microphones.

That’s what the Canucks were anxious to see in their second interview with Tortorella, whether those edges can be softened a bit or whether he needs another Craig Ramsay, his assistant in Tampa Bay who excelled in that role and helped coax the Lightning to a 2004 Stanley Cup championship.

Tortorella and his wife, Christine, run the Tortorella Family Foundation, which, according to their mission statement, “was created to enable our family to reach out to more children in disadvantaged situations, to help others who work to improve the lives of these children and their families, and to help those who protect children, animals, and our environment from harm.”

In practical terms, this means they partner with various charities to raise money and awareness for various causes. One of Tortorella’s obvious passions is dogs, and the foundation’s website frequently points out SPCA events and even highlights dogs up for adoption.

He’s the shot-blocking coach that ran Marian Gaborik out of town and benched Brad Richards in playoff elimination games, on a team that’s built around two Swedish twins that are softer than Egyptian cotton in the postseason.

He’s the coach whose teams can’t score in the playoffs, relying too heavily on goaltending to save the day. And Vancouver just fired that guy.

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But the Canucks are in a win-now mode. Tortorella’s a roman candle: He burns bright, sparks flying, for short duration before he burns out. If the notion is that this roster has the heart of a champion, then Tortorella’s a defibrillator in a way that John Stevens, for example, isn’t.

So if this hasn’t been properly calculated, Gillis is gambling his job. That is consistent with what he’s all about, to say nothing of the push from the highly charged and recently disgruntled ownership.

Gillis didn’t get into this business to hang onto his job as long as possible so as to make as much money as possible. He has numerous other ways to go about that. He took the job to win a Stanley Cup, not for any other reason.

Given the Vancouver window may be shutting with the Sedins and many others getting older, this move is entirely consistent with trying to give it one last shot to win.

Francesco Aquilini, the man presumably behind this decision, is labouring under the misapprehension that the team needs a butt-kicker, a motivator to shake it out of its lethargy. That would be fine if this was 1964. But you don’t reach players with the drill-sergeant approach anymore. Today’s player has to be self-motivated and maniacally driven or he never reaches the NHL. The thought that players like the Sedins, Alex Burrows, Cory Schneider and Kevin Bieksa grew fat and lazy under Vigneault’s watch is insulting to them and their years of service to the Canucks.

But, in much the way exasperated parents think military school would benefit their wayward teenager, Aquilini thinks Tortorella is just the man to set the Canucks straight. That’s fine in theory. But in reality, Tortorella’s personality is simply an impossible fit for this organization. If the Canucks were about egos and stars, then maybe this might work. But under Gillis’s watch they’ve been about something else. They’ve been about the collective. They’ve policed themselves. Most of those players have also taken substantially less to play in this environment.>/p>