Lucic, then 8, wasn't the only fired-up youngster watching that game. Chuck Kobasew, then 14, saw it with his buddies at his home in Osoyoos, B.C.

"Oh yeah. Patrick Roy and Mike Vernon going at center ice. That was a big point for that rivalry," he said. "It was great. Playoff hockey's the best, just to see emotion out there. You never want to see a dirty play like that to start it. But just their compete level, that was awesome."

March 26, 1997 was the boiling point of a longstanding fued. The match featured 144 minutes in penalties, goalies Roy and Vernon trading haymakers at center ice, and a vengeful Darren McCarty pummeling Colorado villain Claude Lemeiux into submission (the latter remembered warmly in the Greater Boston area; Lemeiux had long drawn the vitrol of Bruins fans -- and Cam Neely). [If you don't recall the game in discussion, we suggest you watch the following clip and rejoin the story.]

McCarty's tirade came in response to a hit on Kris Draper in Game 6 of the 1996 Western Conference finals, where Lemeiux barreled in and ran Draper face-first into the dasher, shattering Draper's jaw. For the Wings, it was the final straw in a brutal series, and though the teams had played each other three times in 1996-'97 without major incident, McCarty was looking for revenge.

Which leads us to the storyteller, Aaron Ward. He remembers everything about it. Asked for his memories, the ebullient Ward recounted the madness after today's practice. Before the game, Ward, a 24-year-old in his first full season with the Wings, had no idea about the impending melee.

"McCarty, Draper and I all lived in the same neighborhood, so we all drove in that day. I had no imposition from any of them that something was going to happen."

"Postgame, I found out that it was more or less chivalry, that McCarty was standing up for Draper. I was dumbfounded, because I just spent 40 minutes driving from West Bloomfield to downtown Detroit with them, and not a word was mentioned."

That night, Ward learned more another facet to the art of war. At 3:34 of the second, the rookie blueliner was tossed for battling Colorado's Brent Severyn.

Ward recalled a Colorado wrecking crew, including Severyn, lining up opposite he and defense partner Larry Murphy. The bruisers were anticipating carryover from the first-period fireworks. Ward, all youthful energy, thought he could handle business.

"I shouted to Murph, 'Whatever happens, I've got it,'" recalled Ward, who for his entire career has stood six feet, four inches and 225 pounds. "I looked over, and I saw who they had. It looked the three-ring circus had been sent out on their part, and I'm the only guy over 200 pounds out here."

The puck dropped and was dumped into the Detroit zone. Severyn came over and laid out Murphy. "He didn't kill him, but it was a bad hit. He was doing his job," Ward said.

The fight was on again. Ward and Severyn paired off, and Ward found himself at a quick and crippling disadvantage. You could say the well-traveled blueliner, on his way to 193 PIMs that year, had a little something up his sleeve.

"That was my mistake. I'd never encountered a guy that applied the tricks of the trade," said Ward. His only fight experience to that point had come as part of a line brawl while a senior at Michigan.

"So, I never would have thought that coming out of the second period, he knew there were going to be more fights, so he had already taken his elbow pads off, and his shoulder pads, and left them in the locker room.

Ward thought he'd be OK if he grabbed his foe's jersey.

Only, he wasn't.

"There's nothing holding it down in the back. So I'm trying to fight a guy who has only chest hair to grab on to, and I think he might have shaved it, so there wasn't a lot," said Ward.

Swinging freely, a bare-chested Severyn popped Ward several times before his woozy opponent wrestled him to the corner. Finally, referee Paul Devorski separated the two and told them to get lost.

"I learned a lesson at that point," said Ward.

"That I could take not one, but ten consecutive punches to the head."

"That if you get hit on the top of the head enough times, it's just a black flash, no matter who you're fighting," said Ward, who said the egg on his head was so large he couldn't wear his own helmet for a few days, forcing him to borrow one from a larger-domed teammate.

It was a wild game aside from the fighting, too. Colorado went up, 5-3, in the third, thanks in part to two assists from checking-line center Stephane Yelle, 22 and in his second year with the Avs. But the Wings scored twice in 36 seconds midway through the third to force OT, and won, 6-5, on McCarty's goal.

Ward and a few teammates were standing in the Zamboni pit in the corner, watching the comeback. Though ejected, Ward's night wasn't over.

"When McCarty scored the goal in overtime, we tore behind the Zamboni and down the hallway to the locker room to celebrate," he said. "At that point, [Colorado coach Marc] Crawford had come out of his hallway -- I don't know where he was going -- and just drilled me with an elbow."

And the rivalry raged on. Of course, Ward and his mates got the last laugh, winning the Cup that year and the next.