Hockey today is different. It’s faster, sure. The skill level is through the roof. But honestly, it’s a bit polite. When you look at the Colorado Avalanche Detroit Red Wings matchups of the late 90s, you aren't just looking at sports history; you’re looking at a multi-year car crash that somehow produced the highest level of hockey ever played.
It wasn't just about the points. It was about genuine, deep-seated loathing.
You’ve probably seen the highlights of "Bloody Wednesday" or Patrick Roy skating to center ice to fight Mike Vernon (and later Chris Osgood). But the nuance of why this happened—and why it could never happen again in the modern NHL—is what makes it fascinating. It was a perfect storm of geography, superstar egos, and a specific moment in 1996 that changed everything.
How the Colorado Avalanche Detroit Red Wings Blood Feud Actually Started
Most people point to the 1997 brawl. They're wrong. The spark was May 29, 1996. Game 6 of the Western Conference Finals.
The Red Wings were a juggernaut. They had won 62 games in the regular season, a record at the time. They were supposed to steamroll the Avalanche, who had just moved from Quebec. Then Claude Lemieux happened.
Lemieux drove Kris Draper’s face into the boards. Hard. The "check from behind" doesn't really describe the visceral nature of the impact. Draper suffered a broken jaw, a shattered cheekbone, and a broken nose. He needed surgery to reconstruct his face. In the hallway after the game, Red Wings star Dino Ciccarelli famously said of Lemieux, "I can't believe I shook his guy's friggin' hand."
That was it. The fuse was lit.
Colorado won that series and the Stanley Cup. Detroit went home and simmered in a pool of resentment for 301 days. When people talk about the Colorado Avalanche Detroit Red Wings rivalry, they are talking about the decade of fallout from that one specific hit. It transformed a competitive match-up into a blood vendetta.
March 26, 1997: The Night Hockey Changed
If you were in Joe Louis Arena that night, you knew. You just knew.
It took until the first period was nearly over for the powder keg to blow. It wasn't a standard hockey fight. It was a riot. Darren McCarty, Detroit’s "enforcer" with a scoring touch, finally got his hands on Claude Lemieux. He didn't just fight him; he pummeled him. Lemieux famously "turtled," covering his head while McCarty rained down punches.
💡 You might also like: WrestleMania Card Night 2: What Most Fans Get Wrong About the Triple H Era Booking
Then came the goalies.
Patrick Roy, arguably the greatest goaltender to ever live, wasn't going to sit back. He sprinted out. Mike Vernon met him. Two Hall of Fame goalies throwing haymakers at center ice while the refs tried to peel bodies off the floor. There was blood on the white ice. Literal pools of it.
The crazy part? Detroit won that game 6-5 in overtime. McCarty, the guy who started the brawl, scored the winner.
The Skill Behind the Scraps
We focus on the fights because they make for great YouTube thumbnails. But the reason the Colorado Avalanche Detroit Red Wings rivalry remains the peak of NHL history is that both teams were incredibly good.
Think about the names on the ice at the same time:
- Detroit: Steve Yzerman, Sergei Fedorov, Nicklas Lidstrom, Brendan Shanahan, Igor Larionov.
- Colorado: Joe Sakic, Peter Forsberg, Patrick Roy, Adam Foote, Ray Bourque (later).
Between 1996 and 2002, one of these two teams won the Stanley Cup five times. They weren't just goons. They were the two best rosters in the world. They played a brand of hockey that was suffocatingly fast and incredibly violent. You had to be able to score a hat trick and take a cross-check to the teeth in the same shift.
Joe Sakic and Steve Yzerman were the stoic captains, the "classy" faces of the franchises. But even they had a jagged edge when these two teams met. The mutual respect was there, but it was buried under layers of competitive spite.
The Patrick Roy Factor
You can't discuss the Colorado Avalanche Detroit Red Wings without talking about the ego of Patrick Roy. He was the ultimate antagonist for Detroit fans.
In 1995, while playing for Montreal, Roy was left in net for nine goals against Detroit. He famously walked over to the Canadiens' president behind the bench and said he’d played his last game for the team. He was traded to Colorado shortly after.
For Roy, Detroit was the catalyst for his move to Denver. For Detroit, Roy was the arrogant wall they couldn't climb. When he did the "Statue of Liberty" pose in the 2002 playoffs—catching the puck and holding it up to show off, only to drop it so Detroit could score—it was the ultimate hubris. Detroit fans still talk about that "drop" like it was a religious event.
Why the Rivalry Faded (And Why It Won't Return)
The NHL changed the rules.
After the 2004-05 lockout, the league cracked down on the "clutching and grabbing" that defined the 90s. The game became about speed and power plays. The "instigator" rule made it harder for guys like McCarty or Adam Foote to police the game with their fists without hurting their team on the scoreboard.
Plus, the divisions changed. Colorado and Detroit aren't in the same conference anymore. They only play each other twice a year. You can't build that kind of organic hatred when you only see a team once every six months.
Today, the players are friends. They train together in the offseason. They have the same agents. In 1997, if an Avalanche player was seen grabbing a beer with a Red Wing, he probably would have been traded by morning. The culture of the league has shifted toward professionalism and away from tribalism.
The Lasting Impact on Denver and Detroit
Even now, if you wear a Red Wings jersey into Ball Arena in Denver, you're going to hear it. The boos are muscle memory.
The Colorado Avalanche Detroit Red Wings rivalry built the hockey market in Denver. It gave a new franchise an identity. It turned a "non-traditional" market into a hockey town. In Detroit, it validated the "Production Line" history and gave a new generation of fans their own legends to worship.
It’s easy to look back with rose-colored glasses, but the rivalry was genuinely dangerous. Players were getting hurt. Careers were being shortened. But for those six or seven years, every time those two logos met, it was the most important thing in the sporting world.
Actionable Insights for Modern Fans
If you want to truly appreciate what this rivalry was, you need to look past the box scores. Here is how to digest this piece of sports history properly:
- Watch the "Unrivaled" Documentary: ESPN produced an incredible look at this specific feud. It features Kris Draper and Claude Lemieux sitting down together decades later. The tension in that room is still palpable.
- Study the 2002 Western Conference Finals: Most people talk about 1997, but the 2002 series was arguably better hockey. It went seven games and featured some of the most intense tactical coaching between Scotty Bowman and Bob Hartley.
- Look at the Hall of Fame Count: Count the number of Hall of Famers on the ice during any random clip from a 1998 Avs/Wings game. It’s usually 8 to 10. That density of talent is unheard of today.
- Check the Goalie Stats: Notice how the save percentages were actually high despite the chaos. Roy and Hasek (who joined Detroit later) were performing miracles while people were literally fighting in their creases.
The Colorado Avalanche Detroit Red Wings era is over, but its influence on how the game is marketed—and how rivalries are manufactured today—is everywhere. You can't fake that kind of heat. You can only hope to witness it once in a generation.
Future Outlook
Keep an eye on the current rebuilds. While the "hatred" is gone, both teams are once again competitive. Nathan MacKinnon and Cale Makar have returned Colorado to elite status, while Detroit is clawing back into the playoff hunt with a young core. We might not see goalie fights in 2026, but the jersey colors alone are enough to make any longtime fan's blood pressure spike.
The next time these two teams meet, watch the crowd. The "old timers" in the stands haven't forgotten 1996. They never will. That’s the mark of a real rivalry: it outlives the players who actually fought in it.