When I was growing up I watched Minor League Hockey - the old WHL - for years. That League used to have star players. Phil Maloney was not a prospect in the WHL. He was the Silver Fox, the best player on the Vancouver Canucks, and one of the best players in the WHL. "Maloney?" scoffed the fans of the Seattle Totems, "Guyle Fielder is the best player playing outside the NHL."

These guys were not prospects. Maloney and Fielder and Art Jones and Connie Madigan and Bruce Carmichael and Bob Barlowe and the Hucul brothers were great WHL players who had long careers entertaining real hockey fans who were delighted to watch them play. When an NHL star like Andy Bathgate or Andy Hebenton lost a step, they finished a career with three good years in the WHL. I was about 13 or 14 and I went to watch the Victoria Maple Leafs play at least once a week. It was great hockey.

In those days you could not smoke in your seat but you could in designated corners. One night on the way to the concessions, I recognized a big guy standing in a corner alone pulling on a cigarette for all it was worth. I was a pretty brash kid so I marched up and introduced myself and my friends to Babe Pratt former NHL star and, at the time, a western scout for the Rangers.

(I think it was the Rangers, but this is a 35 year old story. Grains of salt have to be sprinkled around. I remember it this way. No guarantees, except for the fact that Pratt smoked frantically and he talked with his hands. The cigarette once lit, never left his mouth. It bobbed up and down while he talked around it. The ash would get longer and longer until we were mesmerized by it hanging by a thread. It eventually crashed down the front of his raincoat and he never noticed, never missed a beat.)

I never did make it to the concession stand that night, or on a lot of nights over the next couple of years. Whenever he was in Victoria, we found him in his corner. Babe Pratt liked to talk hockey to anybody, and man did he talk! There would be three of four of us kids in a dank corner of Memorial Arena listening to Babe Pratt talk.

"Why isn't Maloney in the NHL?" someone asked. "Or how about Fielder?"

"Because Phil Maloney is 99% as good as Stan Mikita. He has 99% of the speed, 99% of the skill, and 99% of the size and 99% of the everything," said Babe. "But that extra 1% makes all the difference in the world. It is the difference between being a star in the NHL and a star in this League."

"But Reggie Fleming is 50% of Mikita," I cried, "And he has an NHL job!"

"Reggie Fleming is not a star," said Babe Pratt. "If you are not a star you can be 50% of Mikita and make it. Being 100% of Reggie Fleming is good enough to be a Reggie Fleming in the NHL. But Phil Maloney is a star. He always will be a star. Reggie Fleming is nowhere near as good as Phil Maloney. That is why Phil makes a lot more money than Reggie Fleming even though he is not in the NHL. He puts the people in the stands. Who would pay to see Reggie Fleming play?"

This was very confusing and I don't think any of us really understood at the time. But at some point television killed that kind of minor league. People decided they would rather watch Mikita on TV than Maloney live in the minors. Attendance dropped. The minor leagues survived on subsidies from the NHL and became feeders - development leagues - for the NHL.

I like to think that the economics of the game are changing again, and I like to think those days are coming back. I would much rather see the Crunch live than watch the New York Rangers on TV. I would rather pay $15 to see Syracuse than $100 to watch the Rangers. Part of the fun in Syracuse is watching a Josh Holden develop just like I watched Gary Smith learn to play goal.

But That is only part of the fun. If I am a fan of the Crunch I want my team to win. That - not developing players - should be the primary objective of all AHL teams.

Most of the fun in the old days was produced by the stars, by the Maloneys and Fielders and Madigans. We paid to see them play and help our team win. The rookies, the prospects, were interesting but we knew they were just passing through. Our favourites were the stars, the guys who were there every year.

I think Steve Kariya is 99% as good as his brother and I don't think that is good enough, although I do hope I turn out to be wrong. I don't think Brad May is 50% as good as Paul Kariya, but 100% of Brad May is good enough. If there was some justice, if this was a rational world, Steve Kariya would be a star in the AHL for as long as he wanted to play. The fans would come out to watch him because he is worth the price of admission. For putting the fannies in AHL seats, Steve Kariya would make more money than Brad May. Steve Kariya would be respected for what he is, not what he isn't.

In 1963 everybody knew Phil Maloney was better than Reggie Fleming even though Fleming was an NHL player and Maloney was a minor league star. Steve Kariya is better than Brad May. He should be a minor league star. If it happened a decade from today, a brash kid would find an old-timer named in a dank corner of an arena and ask "How come Steve Kariya isn't in the NHL?"

He will take a hard drag on his cigarette and say, "Have you ever heard of an old player named Babe Pratt? He would tell you say the answer is because Steve Kariya is a star. He is Phil Maloney instead of Reggie Fleming or Brad May. That's why Kariya makes more money than Brad May. He's a reason to watch his team play."

I wish. I really do.