Lindsay remembered as 'true gentleman' by fans, Red Wings past, present

DETROIT -- Ted Lindsay was one of the greatest players in NHL history. But that's not why Henrik Zetterberg's lip quivered when he spoke about him. That's not why people who had never seen him play wore jerseys with his name and number on their backs, carrying flowers and cards.

"We're celebrating a legend, a true gentleman," said Zetterberg, the former Detroit Red Wings captain. "And he will be missed."
Lindsay died Monday at age 93. The Red Wings turned Little Caesars Arena into a cathedral for his visitation Friday, open to the public from 9:07 a.m. to 7:07 p.m. in honor of his retired number ahead of his private funeral Saturday.
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Flowers flanked his statue in the concourse. People wrote messages on banners, looked at memorabilia on display and then descended into the arena bowl.
It was silent and dark. The lights glowed deep red. From the rafters hung Lindsay's No. 7 banner and the four Stanley Cup banners he helped the Red Wings win in the 1950s. Another set of the same hung above his casket.
Mourners passed a Hockey Hall of Fame exhibit, including the Art Ross Trophy, which Lindsay won as NHL scoring champion in 1949-50; and the Ted Lindsay Award, which goes to the NHL's most outstanding player as voted by the NHL Players' Association; and bands from the Stanley Cup, which he first hoisted to share with the fans.

Red Wings past and present paid their respects. Many had personal relationships with Lindsay, who worked out, attended meetings and hung around the locker room at Olympia Stadium, Joe Louis Arena and Little Caesars Arena for decades after he retired.
They recalled the ferocious, 5-foot-8 competitor nicknamed Terrible Ted.
"If he was on the other team, he was your worst enemy," former Red Wings forward Red Berenson said. "If he was on your team, he was your best friend. And he was loyal to that."
They recalled the sacrifices he made to help found the NHLPA.
"No one who plays now would have the life and the luxury we have if it weren't for Ted," Zetterberg said.

They recalled the example he set. He would sign his autograph so people could read it. He would address people by their first names -- not nicknames, not shortened first names, but full first names -- and treat stars and rookies with the same respect.
They recalled how he cared. Lindsay was one of the first to call Zetterberg in the hospital after he had back surgery; Zetterberg hadn't even woken up yet. Lindsay would sit on a stool in the locker room and talk hockey or life.
"Those were the moments, the chats you had," Zetterberg said. "He was so involved in the team, and he always knew what was going on. If you needed a little confidence boost, he was there for you."
Actor Dave Coulier grew up in the Detroit suburbs and wore Red Wings jerseys on the TV show "Full House." Once, Lindsay was in the audience when a fellow Red Wings alum heckled Coulier during a live performance. At another event a couple of days later, Lindsay told Coulier he appreciated him.
"I really got to know Ted as the man more than the legend," Coulier said. "Once you knew the man, you realized why he was such a legend.
"Ted had a lot of heart, but just think of all the hearts that he will forever remain in, of people that he touched and helped and gave words of wisdom to and advice and friendship. He really was bigger than life in so many ways."

Consider two other mourners among the many who came Friday.
Kathie Wolney, 46, of Ann Arbor, Michigan, loved Lindsay in part for what he did with the NHLPA. She wanted a Lindsay No. 7 NHLPA jersey, but none was for sale. Her partner, Mike Mast, 47, of Ann Arbor, reached out to the Ted Lindsay Foundation. Lindsay didn't have one himself, so the foundation had two made -- one for her, one for Lindsay. She met Lindsay and he signed her jersey Dec. 4, exactly three months before he died.
It's black, and she wore it to the visitation over the red Lindsay No. 7 Detroit jersey she wears to Red Wings games. She said this would be the lone time she would wear the NHLPA jersey.
"He was my favorite player forever, because he fought so hard for everybody else," she said, fighting back tears and clutching a bunch of red roses. "I mean, everything he did off the ice was just amazing. He gave up a lot for what he thought was right."

Drew Hill, 18, of Warren, Michigan, loved Lindsay for his foundation's fight against autism. Hill did volunteer work in high school for students with autism and received an autism diagnosis himself in March 2016. He reached out to the foundation, told his story and received a signed picture and puck.
At the foundation's annual golf tournament in September, Hill sat with Lindsay and his granddaughter for two hours, just the three of them. Hill opened up to Lindsay, telling him he felt like less of a man since the diagnosis and didn't deserve help because he was high-functioning.
"He said something to me, and coming from him, it meant more than it could ever mean coming from anybody," said Hill, wearing a Lindsay No. 7 Detroit jersey and holding cards for the family. "He looked at me after we talked, and he said, 'After hearing everything you had to say, I just want you to know that you're a stronger man than I've ever been in my entire life.'
"And I tried not to cry throughout the whole conversation, but when he said that, that was the ultimate thing he could have said. And I just broke down. It was the most beautiful experience, and I'm very thankful I got to share that."

Terrible Ted was wonderful.
"That's the one thing I will remember most, is how selfless he was," Hill said. "And I think the most beautiful thing about him is, he wanted to be a voice for people who didn't have one themselves."