Poor Esposito. While most of Orr's hockey accomplishments already are legend, Esposito still cannot shake the image of "garbage collector" that was thrust on him during his days with the Chicago Black Hawks. Throughout his 10 years in the NHL Esposito has spent perhaps 75% of his ice time playing alongside either Orr or Bobby Hull, and he admittedly has suffered by comparison. Orr and Hull are the game's blond bombers, matinee idols and pinup poster boys, and their scrubbed faces appear in countless commercial messages. In contrast, Esposito is a slow, plodding skater with features the opposite of fair. Except for Lou Angotti of the St. Louis Blues, he has the worst case of five o'clock shadow in hockey. "When I scored 76 goals three years ago," Esposito says, "I was not offered one new major endorsement." Still, he recognizes his identity problem and seems to be reconciled to the fact that large advertisers shun him.
"You can't compare Orr and me or Hull and me," he says. "They bring people to their feet. They are spectacular players. Orr is the best player in the game; I know it and I admit it. I also know that my role is to score goals, to pick up loose pucks and put them behind the goaltender any way I can. So that's what I try to do—and the people still call me a garbage collector. That's life, I'm afraid."
Despite what others say about him, Esposito is the complete center, as he proved conclusively in Team Canada's games with the Soviet Union last year. He is tall and strong, as was that prince of centers, Jean Beliveau, and a man to cause terror whenever he skates within 20 feet of the net. He has hockey's best wrist shot, although he prefers to call it a snap shot, and he invariably shoots without looking at the net. "I have developed a feel for where it is, just as John Havlicek has a knack for knowing where the basket is," Esposito says. "Besides, taking even the quickest look wastes precious time." He estimates that maybe 80% of his goals each season come on either snap shots fairly close in to the goal or artful deflections. Once stationed in front of the net, the 210-pound Esposito is a difficult man to dislodge. He uses his long arms and a powerful body to fend off defensemen while waiting for one of his wings, Wayne Cashman or Ken Hodge, to get the puck from the corners or for Orr to blast away from the blue line. Sometimes, though, he pays a physical price for staking out his position; two weeks ago he lost sight of an Orr shot and the puck broke his nose. He was lucky to be playing at all, having suffered a severe knee injury in the playoffs last April.
