I’ve been racking my brain all afternoon for an appropriate way to bid farewell to one of the finest ever to pull on the Caps jersey – and have come up empty every time. Maybe I’m overly emotional about it. Maybe it’s too fresh. Maybe I’ve said everything I can think of to say about Olie the Goalie, about his career and his contributions, his legacy as a Cap and the somewhat bitter ending to his time in DC.

Whatever the reason, words aren’t coming so easy as #37 says goodbye to the NHL.

Because the legend of “Godzilla” is so much more than numbers and records, wins and losses – it’s the story of a man whose presence was and remains bigger than his enormous wingspan and whose heart is forever on his sleeve. Never let it be said that he didn’t leave it all on the ice…often alongside the shards of broken stick littering his crease.

It’s those discarded pieces of wood that provide some of the most lasting imagery from Olie’s long and storied career. Over at Capitals Insider today, fans are recounting some of their favorite Olie moments – and while there are so many good ones floating around, some of my favorites involve those moments when Olie’s fiery personality roamed free, when Godzilla unleashed his wrath on unwitting opponents or even his own teammates.

It was his passion and energy that made him so beloved around here; forever an underdog team, there was a sense that here, now, was someone willing to fight for us. I see the same fire in Ovechkin and many others in Caps uniform today – but Olie was the original.

So yes, his 300th win was an extremely special moment to witness, and I was lucky enough to be at Verizon Center for that historic moment. And one can never discuss the Caps’ improbable run of ’98 without talking about the tremendous role he played in it.

My favorite Olie moment, however, wasn’t a playoff win or a milestone-setting game – it was actually a relatively unimportant midseason game, a moment that would become a footnote in a triumphant but fairly meaningless Caps win.

February 3, 2006, Verizon Center. The bottom-dwelling Capitals were hosting the Toronto Maple Leafs and were welcoming back rookie phenom Alex Ovechkin after the young Russian missed his first ever game with a minor groin injury. Call-ups that night included Dave Steckel, Eric Fehr and some kid named Mike Green who would get his first career goal in that same game.

It was about a minute after that momentous goal that it happened – the Olie moment to end all moments.

Bryan McCabe cross-checked Alex Ovechkin into Toronto goaltender Eddie Belfour; Belfour, either not knowing or not caring that his own teammate had caused the disturbance, immediately went after Ovechkin. And as our eyes were glued to the ongoing wrestling match between Belfour and #8, I heard someone behind me suddenly say, “here comes Olie…”

We all turned to look and sure enough there, striding purposefully across center ice, was the big man himself. He made a beeline for his Toronto counterpart, getting right up in Belfour’s face and making it perfectly clear – even to those of us up in the high 400s – that disrespecting Ovechkin would land you in a world of hurt.

My sister and I reminisced about that game earlier today and once again were doubled over with laughter at the mere memory. It was moments like that which cemented him in our mind and in the minds of so many others as a living legend. Such a quintessentially Zilla-esque moment in a game that otherwise has been forgotten.

With Olie you always knew what you were getting – as a player and as a member of the community. And while the end of his tenure in DC was abrupt and filled with too much bitterness, it doesn’t erase all the good he did for the franchise and for the area in which he lived.

He was a great athlete and is a better human being, and for a generation of Caps fans, he was the face of a franchise. That he retires without a Cup is one of the biggest tragedies – and realities – of sport, but his legend will never suffer in our eyes because of it. He is just one more flawed hero, a victim of bad luck and worse timing, a guy who gave his all to the Caps only to see them start to rise as he neared the end of his career.

He goes out as a man without a team but he will never truly be without a team, not as long as there are Caps fans around to remind others of what he was – telling the stories of the pigeon on the ice, the 300th win, the f-bombs in practice, the push to the Finals, the fight with Belfour and the “fight” with Dafoe, and everything in between.

So farewell, Olie. May your retirement be as full, fun and fiery as your long, glowing career.

Hey, what do you know…I thought of something to write about after all.