Peter Lasagna's column appears in the September Issue of Inside Lacrosse, which features the "Kings of New York" on the cover. Purchase it in print or digitally.

(Inside Lacrosse Photo: Dan Cook)

Hall of Fame defender Pat McCabe can barely hide his glee.

He is just back from Lake Placid and offering thoughts on the disappearance of the dominant, takeaway defensemen. He describes a favorite fantasy image involving fellow Lake Placid destroyer of attackmen, Gerry Byrne.

“I want little Byrnesy to put together YouTube highlights from the ’90s, just ripping over-the-head checks without mercy. Send it to grown-up Coach Byrne at Notre Dame and see if he gets a recruiting call. I’m not sure Gerry could play for Gerry.”

The provocative thought amuses Coach Byrne.

“It may or may not be true that I have scrubbed the Internet clean of every film of mine from those days,” he laughs. “If Matt Landis walks into my office and says, ‘But Coach, you threw every check known to mankind!’ I tell him that footage must have been doctored.”

Lacrosse players and fans of a certain age remember epic battles pitting the best offensive dynamos against kitchen sink hurling defenders. Reputations accrued before, during and after college. Long-anticipated one-on-one matchups were a pivotal, thrilling part of the sport. To be considered great, you had to be able to put the ball on the ground often. Johns Hopkins’ Hank Kaestner, lugging a 25-pound wooden stick, stripped more people in the ’60s than one sees today, even in Major League Lacrosse.

In Byrne’s words, “It was Gunfight at the O.K. Corral, The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance. Gunslingers on both sides looking to stake their claim.” Personal scores were kept and settled. Each team needed a legitimate takeaway man. He expected to be abandoned, left alone on an island, engaged in Ali-Frazier hand-to-hand combat. “The complete opposite of today,” Byrne acknowledges. “In those days, we got extremely angry if anyone slid to us. Now, I yell if we don’t.”

McCabe possesses a unique perspective. He earned All-America recognition four times, thrice a First-Teamer at Syracuse. He won three straight NCAA titles and was named the Schmeisser Award winner in 1990. McCabe played on 1990, 1998 and 2006 U.S. National Teams.

He thrived in both the free-flowing, risk-allowing system of Roy Simmons, Jr., and under the tighter grip of Bill Tierney. Coach McCabe also won the 2015 Division II NCAA championship in his first year at the helm of the Adelphi women’s team.

McCabe notes a serious shortage of takeaway artists today. He believes it starts early. “Many of the best — Petro, Beardsley, Kisslinger — developed their styles before they entered any kind of structured system.” As they moved up, they encountered mentors that supported, promoted their aggressive flare.

McCabe, his predecessors and peers saw summer league as opportunities to “Let it rip, experiment, get creative with checks.” His personnel mantra: “Play defense with your feet, offense with your hands.” No longer. He sees bigger, stronger, faster athletes that might wreak individual havoc. “But those kids are not encouraged or developed now as takeaway guys. The risk/reward is calculated constantly,” he correctly states. “If I get beaten to an area of the field that leaves my teammates vulnerable — exposes everyone — I sit.”

Like the rest of the world, McCabe and Byrne watched Bill Tierney win NCAA Championships and a gold medal with his finely tuned slide-and-recover schemes. When a coach enjoys staggering success, people imitate. The 1990s arms race between Legion of Doom defensemen and stick-doctoring offensive masters was rendered moot by a superior, shared plan.

Mature Gerry Byrne takes great pride in watching former players do as he said, not as he did. When we sees Irish alums fly around Lake Placid fields, he knows they synthesized what he and Coach Corrigan instilled. Whether two or 10 years out, “They use our language. We create a community of guys playing together with core values, rules, trust in each other. It is inspiring.” The man who once terrorized this tourney with his awesome arsenal of kayaks, ding-dongs and sky whammies adds with a slightly wistful tone, “The gunslinger is a lonely man.”

McCabe humbly considers himself a “bit player” to the best defensive Marshall ever. “You had Dave Pietramala and everyone else.” Most celebrated turnover causers fall into either “scary athlete” or “highly analytical” camps. “Petro could do everything,” reminds McCabe. “Body you or strip you at will.” McCabe focused his prime ball removal areas “from shoulder to knee cap.” Pietramala charted his takeaway area from two feet above the ball carrier’s head to his toes.

The drama and excitement Petro created as a player makes McCabe long for a resurrection of takeaway men. “That era was so great because Gary Gait had Dave Pietramala and Dave had Gary. They made each other, and they defined the game.”

It helps to remember that Pietramala played within an extremely disciplined system under coach Don Zimmerman. “Zimm,” says McCabe, “Let Dave be Dave. They all thrived as a result.” Maybe it’s not either/or?

McCabe wonders if a dynamic d-man might motivate youngsters the way the Thompsons have. How can young commit Lyle’s moves to memory? Because every man assigned to stop them is told be conservative. “Before he shoots or passes, everyone watching would say ‘That guy is in great position,’” McCabe observes. “Then the ball goes in the net because nothing disrupts his stick.”

Is there a coach out there who might be enticed to recruit and train the next McCabe, Byrne, Pietramala, Beardsley, Kisslinger, Klodzen, Hartzell, Karalunas? A man who weighs not getting beat vs. striking fear, forcing offensive players to run for their lives and throw the ball away? A modern day Roy Simmons who loves creativity more than he fears failure? Imagine someone giving world-class defensive athletes the freedom that Scott Marr gave the Thompsons? Coach P. coaching Petro? Coach Byrne unleashing little Gerry? Man that would be fun.