He drew me to him. Wayne Gretzky was 17. It was 1978. He was playing for the Indianapolis Racers of the World Hockey Association. I was a defenseman for the Cincinnati Stingers, a teammate of Mark Messier's. Wayne had the puck. I went to challenge him. But there were no one-on-one battles with Wayne. It didn't work that way. He drew you to him. And as you closed in on him, you watched him put the puck right by you, right to the spot where you just were. Right to the spot where I just was. Right to the spot where his wing was now, one-timing that beautiful son-of-a-bitch pass beyond the reach of my goalie. That's what he did to me.

Of course, the man retired from professional hockey with 1,072 goals and 2,297 assists, so I guess he did it to more than just me. But to appreciate greatness you have to personalize it, don't you? I mean, where were you when Reggie hit three out? Where were you for the Miracle on Ice? Where were you when Michael buried that last shot? Where were you the day that when The Great One called it quits?

***

I had heard about the kid playing in the Ontario Hockey League. Everyone in Canada had. Everyone who ever saw him play said he was amazing. In 64 games with Sault Ste. Marie, Gretzky had 182 points, more than 2.8 per game. That was as a 16-year-old. When he got to the WHA, I was expecting this Schwarzenegger type -- you know, muscles bulging out everywhere -- a fast skater with a cannon shot. And then I saw him. He was small -- skinny really -- and when he bent over as he skated, he looked almost frail. It didn't make sense.

Until you saw him play. He was so comfortable on the ice. It was like everything that was happening was scripted, and he had written the script. The plays he made, the passes he made. He saw people he shouldn't have been able to see. You knew immediately he was special.

And I don't just mean because he won the Hart Trophy as MVP in 1979-80, his very first year in the NHL after one season in the WHA. Or because he won the Hart eight straight years and nine of the first 10 years he was in the league. Or because he scored 92 goals in one season, and we don't have a 50-goal scorer in the league this year. Or because he had 215 points one year, and nowadays a 100-point season gets you a $5 million contract.

He was special because of what he would mean to the game, what he would do for the game.

You see, the great ones change the way the game is played. Bobby Orr changed how defensemen play. Gretzky changed how centers play. On a rush into the opposition's zone, no one turned back and hit the defenseman coming up late into the play. He started that. And no one ever used the net like he did. How many times have you seen him set up behind the opponent's goal, in his office, patiently waiting for the play to develop? The defenseman is paralyzed with fear, and the goalie is screaming for help. And then you see the wing break free for a split second. Only Gretzky saw it before you, before anyone, just the way he had anticipated it, and the puck is already on the tape of the wing's stick, and, bang-bang, the puck is behind the goalie.

When I was coaching the Kings, we were playing in San Jose in the playoffs, and the game was in overtime. Gretzky went into the corner and stole the puck from a defenseman. You have to picture the situation in your mind: He has a defenseman draped on his back and another defenseman directly in the lane leading to Luc Robitaille, standing in the slot. So the pass is taken away, right? Except that Gretzky flicks the puck at the net so that it bounces off the ropes at a right angle and slides into the slot where Robitaille one-times it for the game-winner. I'm on the bench, and I look at Cap Rader, my assistant coach, and I say, "Did he just do what I think he did?" After the game, we ask him if he meant to do that, and he's smiling like the Cheshire cat.

There are only about 10,000 stories like that concerning Wayne. So if only 3,369 turned into points, what happened the rest of the time? When you watch Gretzky on tape, you see the five or six great plays he makes, but you also see the 10 or 12 other times he makes a play that is too good for a teammate to complete. The guy didn't have his stick on the ice because he never believed the puck could get to him, or he futilely turned away because he thought Wayne was overmatched.

But Wayne has never been overmatched. Lee Norwood, the former defenseman, tells this story about the first time he faced Gretzky. Norwood took his shift, lined up Gretzky and leveled him with a check. Gretzky glared at him as he went to the bench. Norwood went back to his bench expecting a lot of high-fives and atta-boys, but what he got instead was stone-cold silence. The next time Norwood's on the ice, Gretzky blows by him and scores, and Gretzky stares at him as he skates back to the bench. Norwood sits down, and his coach comes over, puts his hands on Norwood's shoulders, leans in close to his ears and says, "Don't ever do that again."

Gretzky dominated hockey when the game was at its very best. He came up at the tail end of the Montreal dynasty, made his mark during the Islanders dynasty then turned the Oilers into a dynasty. I played against him and that team and believe me, before each game, there were a lot of guys in the opposing locker room praying, "Please don't let him embarrass me too badly." How's that for pregame preparation? He was captain when the Oilers won four Stanley Cups, and when he was traded to Los Angeles, Canada was stunned.

The Kings weren't exactly the New York Yankees when he got there, but it all changed quickly. He led them to the division finals three straight years and to the Stanley Cup Finals his fifth year there, my first year as head coach. The day after I signed in August 1992, I went to L.A. and called Wayne. We met in a hotel not far from the airport. I just wanted him to know what kind of team I liked. I wanted aggressiveness and speed and motion. He was so charged by it, like a little kid who couldn't sit still, saying, "Yeah, yeah, that's how we did it in Edmonton." We talked for about an hour and a half, and he went out to the parking lot. Sitting in his car were Janet and the kids. We're talking hockey for an hour and a half, and Janet's out in the car. I said to myself, "This guy loves to play."

I never had to explain my methods to him. He never wanted special treatment. He loved to practice, and he was usually the first guy on the ice. We flew commercially, and we loved to see the faces of people as Wayne Gretzky walked through first class to his seat in coach. But he just wanted to be one of the guys.

Of course, he wasn't. We'd get into an airport at 3 a.m. and 200 people would be waiting for him. It was triple that in Canadian airports. He'd sit down and sign for everyone. Los Angeles was a pretty hot place then, with Magic Johnson and the Lakers. But the Forum was filled for hockey, too. And the stars came out to see Wayne play.

But who didn't? You know, most teams play about nine exhibition games. But when Wayne was in L.A., the Kings played about 15. The league would set up games in cities that didn't have NHL teams, to grow the sport. Wayne never begged out of a game played in a city where hockey was being introduced for the first time. That came from his father, who told him at an early age that being gifted comes with an obligation. That's why Wayne took his role in this sport so seriously -- the bond with the fans, the hours with the media. He truly wants the NHL to be the best league in the world. And how often do you see any game's best player feel that tug to his sport?

***

He drew us to him with his gifts. Bouncing goals in off the back of the goalie, scoring on shots between his legs, getting more career assists than anyone else has points.

He drew us to him with his fierce competitiveness, too. Game 7 of the Western finals in '93, in Toronto, his hometown. No pressure there, right? He scores a hat trick to take us to the Cup Finals. We had a nice team that year, but we weren't exactly the '85 Oilers.

He drew us to him with his loyalty. When I was fired in Los Angeles, he called to apologize for playing badly. Last summer, Chicago was interested in me as coach. I interviewed once and when I went back a second time, GM Bob Murray said Wayne had called to tell him he should hire me. I never asked him to do that.

He drew us to him with his humility. He set ridiculous records. He elevated a sport to levels it had never reached. He married a movie star. They called him The Great One. But he never stopped being the son of a Brantford, Ontario, laborer.

I got to see the four greatest players in the game: Gordie Howe, Bobby Orr, Mario Lemieux and Wayne Gretzky. Without a doubt, I got to coach the best superstar in the world. You can't replace this guy. We can only get something different. I think the game will be okay. But it will be different.

He drew us to him, but now he's gone. And I'm sad as hell.

This article appears in the May 3, 1999 issue of ESPN The Magazine.