By the time the 1984-85 NHL playoffs rolled around, I’d been in the presence of sports greatness on multiple occasions, albeit from a distance.

From the first balcony of the Chicago Stadium, I watched a young Michael Jordan help the Chicago Bulls hang tough against Larry Bird’s Boston Celtics. From the corner of Soldier Field, I watched the 1985 Chicago Bears go all 1985 Chicago Bears on the poor Indianapolis Colts. And from the grandstands at Wrigley Field, I winced and covered my eyes as Philadelphia Phillies Hall of Fame slugger Mike Schmidt knocked multiple dingers into Wisconsin and beyond.

But I’d never experienced anything quite like Wayne Gretzky’s performance during the 1985 Campbell Conference Finals.

Led by Gretzky, Messier, scoring machine Jari Kurri, and the brick wall goaltender known as Grant Fuhr, the Oilers strode into the series on a crazy roll, having swept past their first two playoff opponents, the L.A. Kings and the Winnipeg Jets. For their part, the Hawks had eliminated their round one opponent, the Detroit Red Wings, three-zip before taking down the Minnesota North Stars 4-2, a series in which they averaged 5.5 goals per game.

There was cautious optimism amongst the Hawks cognoscenti; the team defense had been solid, and Bannerman was riding a hot stick, so maybe they could go toe-to-toe with the might Oilers. Maybe they’d be able to do something about Fuhr’s scary 2.5-goals-against average. Maybe they could—gasp—bottle up Gretzky.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Or maybe not.

For Chicago, the first two games of the series were a dumpster fire, as the Oilers outscored the Hawks by a total of 18-5. (That’s not a misprint, people.) Gretzky was quiet—for him—scoring or assisting on a mere 6 of those 18 goals. Now any other hockey player of the era would be thrilled with those numbers, but for Gretzky, it was likely a pair of unspectacular strolls in the park.

I was Larry’s plus-one for Game Three, which turned out to be one of the Blackhawks greatest triumphs of the decade. Savard spun his way to 2 goals and an assist, while Bannerman stopped 33 of Edmonton’s 35 shots, and the Hawks pulled it out, 5-2. 

And Gretzky was held scoreless.

To reiterate: Gretzky. Was. Held. Scoreless. Rarely was that a thing.

On a certain level, I was bummed out, let down, disappointed…although less disappointed than had I paid for the tickets myself. Sure, the Hawks victory was one for the ages, but going to an Oilers game without The Great One doing Great One stuff was like going to Lou Malnati’s and eating only dessert. Yes, the hot chocolate chip cookie prepared in a deep-dish pan and topped with vanilla ice cream is memorably delicious, but it feels empty without a pizza.

When Edmonton took the ice for Game Four, they were noticeably pissed off. During warmups, it seemed like they were taking their anger out on poor Grant Fuhr, shooting bullet puck after bullet puck into his chest. The anger further manifested itself a minute into the game, when a gnarly fight broke out, an ugly beatdown that resulted in 3 roughing penalties, 4 fighting penalties, a slashing penalty, and 2 game misconducts. 

A gentleman through and through, Gretzky avoided the whole mess altogether, which allowed him the energy and focus to, just about one minute later, score a crazy-cool goal that left Bannerman eating ice shards. The Hawks, we were certain, were dead meat. 

The next 40 minutes were a barrage of goals, assists, and fights. All in all, 34 penalties were dished out, and the puck found the back of the net 14 times, 8 of which came from the sticks of the Blackhawks. Final score: Chicago 8, Edmonton 6, series tied at 2.

Despite the fact that the Game Four was a sloppy gang fight that offered players little opportunity to be graceful, Gretzky was nonetheless gorgeous. Whenever he touched the puck, there was a palpable sense of “Oh crap, we’re toast” from both the Hawks and their fans. It was one thing to see Gretzky on the tube, but you didn’t get a true sense of his ability to dominate a game—regardless of whether or not he was scoring—unless you saw it with your own eyeballs, live and in person.

First of all, there was the effortlessness, something that didn’t necessarily translate to the small screen. For Wayne, everything looked easy, and as even a fair-weather hockey fan is aware, making things look easy on the ice ain’t easy. 

Second of all, he—like my Chicago guys Michael Jordan and Walter Payton—had to be accounted for literally every second of the game. You take your eye off of Gretzky (or M.J., or Sweetness), and there’s like a 72% chance you’ll find yourself on the wrong end of a highlight reel. Again, this is something you couldn’t discern on TV.

Third of all, The Great One had an aura that filled the stadium, an inner glow that made it nearly impossible to avert your gaze. He skated the way an eagle soared, the way a gazelle ran, and the way a shark swam. His passing accuracy combined with his ability to see what’s happening on the rink both in the present and in the near future made him nearly unstoppable.

And that kind of play went on for Gretzky’s entire career. Even when he was past his prime—say, during his tenure with the New York Rangers—he was still a force. You weren’t always going to get a multi-point game out of him, but like LeBron James—whose ability to own any given game on any given night makes him kind of the perfect NBA comp for Gretzky—The Great One could win most any contest by pushing his teammates to perform at the top of their game. (Hunh, I guess I can wax poetic about Gretzky.)

At any rate, it was back to Edmonton for Game Five. That’s when things got real.

By the time Game Five rolled around, I was more than a little emotionally invested in the series. Having even an incremental chance to vanquish an all-timer like The Great One will do that to you.

But the vanquishment was not to be, because Gretzky decided, “Eff this, the Hawks aren’t worthy of my time.” (He likely used gentler language than “eff this,” as he’s far classier than I am.) In Game Four, he went Full Wayne from the get-go, racking up a pair of goals and a pair of assists in a 10-5 drubbing. (Notable stat: There were 37 penalties handed out, three more than the Game Four bloodbath. Those dudes legit didn’t like each other.)

Larry offered me a ticket to Game Six. Even though I was confident the Hawks would get spanked—watching Gretzky go Full Wayne will pop any opposing fan’s balloon, be they fair-weather or rabid—I’d come this far, so I accepted.

Somehow, he made the leap from Full Wayne to Fuller Wayne. Edmonton led 6-0 after two periods, at which point it was all over but the shouting. Each team dumped in a couple of garbage time goals, leading to a final of 8-2. Gretzky assisted on half of the Oilers’ scores, dominating throughout, which surprised exactly nobody.

I’ve seen dozens of games in dozens of arenas, but I’ve never heard a crowd louder than that Game Six throng. I’ve also never heard a crowd go so quiet, so quickly, but I will give us credit: After the final buzzer sounded, when the teams met up for a center ice handshake line that was probably super-awkward—after all, the six-game series produced (wait for it, wait for it) 113 penalties—the crowd again pinged the red of the decibel meter.

Maybe the volume was a tribute to the Blackhawks gallant playoff performance against a clearly superior Oilers team. Maybe it was a salute to the team’s entire postseason run. Maybe it was our way of sending Olczyk, Savard, Bannerman, et al into the summer with a sense of optimism about next season.

But in retrospect, wherever that celebratory noise came from—our heads, our hearts, our guts—much of it was undoubtedly paying homage to the on-ice artistry of Wayne Douglas Gretzky.

Oh, P.S. – Oilers star Jari Kurri racked up 3 hat tricks in the series, an NHL playoff record that stands to this day. And I totally forgot about that until I fact checked this article, but I’m sure you’ll forgive me, because as we all know, reminiscing about Wayne Gretzky can blot out the sun.

Alan Goldsher is Collectable’s Head of Content. He’s the author of 15 books. For more information, visit http://www.AlanGoldsher.com.