I think Niedermayer was in unique situations, where his comparables were very unusual - Scott Stevens and Chris Pronger played on seperate pairings for all but one year during this time. How did they affect Niedermayer's numbers?
Howe, on the other hand, has obscenely impressive numbers, no matter who the other guys were.
I've noticed that very few defencemen had strong adjusted plus-minus numbers in the dead puck/clutch and grab/trap era, from the late 90s to the lockout. If you look a Nicklas Lidstrom's plus-minus, it shot up after the lockout, especially compared to his teammates. Chris Pronger was the only defenceman in the top 20 players in adjusted plus-minus from 1997-2004. (Scott Stevens was second among defencemen over this time, just outside of the top 20 players.) From 1981-88, 6 of 20 players in adjusted plus-minus were defencemen (including 5 of the top 10, and 2 of the top 3.)
It's very possible that the game played during this time period made it very difficult for defencemen to stand out at even strength, especially compared to the 1980s. Niedermayer's game may have been a better fit for the open ice of the 1980s.
Agreed. Howe was not overly physical - he was a mobile defenseman like Niedermayer.. but he was still more physical than Niedermayer in my recollection.
Bobby Clarke describing Mark Howe's physical play: "He's not real physical, but he doesn't have to be. He's so mobile he always gets a piece of you, just enough to throw you off the puck."
I found a couple of newspaper articles that describe Howe's style of play, for those who didn't see him play. Links, with excerpts.
Bill Lyon, Philadelphia Inquirer, Feb 26, 1986:
It’s not just domination, it’s Howe he dominates
In a sport that sometimes flows with balletic grace and sometimes sounds like metal-on-metal on the freeway, Mark Howe has managed the remarkable feat of hiding himself.
To appreciate the impact and the influence of Mark Howe on a hockey game requires videotape, because what he does is so subtle that it often goes unnoticed in the passions and the collisions of the moment. For the purist, for the connoisseur of the sport’s intricacies, Howe is to be savored at leisure.
You want to settle back, wind the tape, let the play unfold in slow motion, and watch his true worth emerge; the 2-on-1 break that is casually defused, the quick, precise pass that generates the bust-out from your own end, the calm control of the puck while setting the proper power-play alignment, the anticipation and the interception while killing a penalty. Textbook stuff, all of it, clinical, complete.
For the last decade or so, it has been widely agreed that the best way to observe how one player can dictate the outcome of a basketball game while never dominating the ball is to watch Bobby Jones of the Philadelphia 76ers. Mark Howe of the Philadelphia Flyers is hockey’s version of this phenomenon. No wasted motion. No frills. No French pastry. No curlicues and flourishes. No flamboyance. No flair.
His game is clean, crisp, economical. It does not call attention to itself. Neither does he. His game face is always sternly in place, eyes squinting in study, face puckered in concentration, He is quiet, introspective.
If he threw off more rooster tail sprays of ice and trash-talk, maybe he finally would get some of the things that should be coming to him, like, for starters, the Norris Trophy as hockey’s most accomplished defenseman.
The problem is, Howe is not a specialist. He does everything well. And in an understated manner. A Paul Coffey, a Ray Bourque may have better offensive numbers, and a Rod Langway may be regarded as the prototypical defensive defenseman, but Howe is the more complete player, the all-round contributor. He can stem a rush with one flick of his stick, can accelerate himself end-to-end and turn a steal into a goal, can handle most any position on the power play, can kill off penalties adroitly, shrewdly.
That doesn’t leave much else.
But he remains one of those players whose stats forever sneak up on people.
Craig Wolff of the New York Times, April 21, 1987:
Howe quietly making his mark
From where Mark Howe sees it in the deep end of the ice where he smoothly gathers up the puck, bodies are usually flying around in front of him, someone is usually falling over someone else, and maybe, someone is throwing a punch. Then he starts out.
If the opening is there, he will take the puck all the way in. If it is there for someone else, he will thread a pass. If there is no opening, he will perhaps circle, hang back, wait.
It is a patient game the non-star defenseman of the Philadelphia Flyers plays, a stop-see and do-whatever-is-called-for style. It is his style that is really the foundation of the Flyers. But unless you are tuned to it, you might only notice the more extravagant parts of the Flyers game – Tim Kerr knocking in pucks, the gritty center Dave Poulin weaving in, the goalie, Ron Hextall, clanging his stick on the goal pipes, or Dave Brown knocking over bodies.
Meanwhile, Howe is out there, moving in one of his several different speeds, and quietly. That’s why he’s the non-star, the players the Flyers trust will never break down.
“It is a very comforting feeling” said his coach, Mike Keenan, “that when I start writing down my lineup, I can start with Mark.”
“He really never does anything wrong,” said his general manager, Bobby Clarke, a former teammate. “And I’ve never seen a player who can bring his game to so many different levels. He’s like a base-stealer who steals only when it will help his team.”
