The end of a Sam Malinski shift was a study in mannerisms for one college assistant coach. It was almost a miniature game of facial expressions. Always with the same ending.
Malinski would skate to the Cornell bench while Ben Syer was still marveling at whatever high-skilled maneuver his pupil had just pulled off. Malinski would shoot him an ever-so-slightly prolonged look. “Straight-faced,” Syer remembers. “Wouldn’t really give you much of a reaction.” Like he was waiting for acknowledgment.
Syer wanted to see the reaction Malinski was hiding.
“You kind of had to give him a little pat on the back,” he said.