If anyone doubted that, they only needed to watch The Shift, where Lucic blew the roof off the Coliseum and essentially won the Memorial Cup in less than a minute. The Giants, who'd lost the Western League title two weeks earlier to Medicine Hat in double overtime in the seventh game of the finals, knew they needed a jump-start.
"It was the biggest game of our lives," says Lucic. "We'd talked about it, that we had to do something early. I just came off the bench and the timing was right."
In rapid succession, Lucic bowled over Matt Lowry, Jakub Rumpel, and Trevor Glass, and fought Jordan Bendfeld and the Giants went on to win, 3-1.
The Cup victory made Lucic an instant folk hero. For the first time in more than 90 years, a Vancouver hockey team had won something big.
"Everyone likes the Canucks," says Kesa, "but they don't really do anything at the end."
The picture of Lucic hoisting the trophy adorned city buses before the next season, urging a repeat. Odds were he'd be back - he was still only 19, the team's captain-to-be. But when his father and uncle were driving him to the airport to send him off to Bruins camp that fall, they hoped otherwise.
"Don't go there to try out, go there to make the team," Kesa told him. "I don't want to see you back here until the season's over. I want to visit there and see you play."
In Wilmington, Lucic took the same approach he always had: "You've got to do something every night."
When camp broke, he was still on the team. Once Lucic played 10 games and the club had to keep him, he realized that his life had changed overnight, and that he'd become decidedly wealthier.
"He never thought that it would come this quickly," says Snezana, who works for Air Canada at the airport. "He kind of pinches himself. Even I and my husband do. People at work say, 'Wow, your kid plays in the NHL.' "
Roots run deep
Lucic may be playing 2,500 miles away, but he's still the same kid from the East Side, still a familiar figure around the neighborhood and his old school. "He knows where his roots are," says Tanabe.
When Lucic had his uniformed homecoming as a Bruin last October, the Vancouver Province ran a baby picture ("He hated me for that photo," says his mother with a laugh) on its back page with the greeting: "Welcome home, tough guy."
It was toughness, fearlessness, and dedication - the classic East Vancouver virtues - that got Lucic to Causeway Street when he was still a teenager and have kept him there.
"The kids from East Van persevere," says Tanabe. "When the chips are down, you'll take an East End boy."
No matter what he does in Boston - and his father's fellow dockworkers already are bantering about the Stanley Cup - Milan Lucic always will be remembered for one hard-nosed and inspired minute that made history in the Coliseum. That's why he's hanging next to Springsteen, as a reminder of the glory days.
