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Brian Burke has told the story a thousand times about Trevor Linden’s draft year, but this is the beauty of the tale: It never gets old.

“(Linden) is supposed to come in Saturday (before the 1988 NHL draft) for a battery of physical and psychological tests,” recounts Burke, who was then the Canucks assistant general manager. “He calls me Thursday and says ‘Mr. Burke, my dad said I have to call you. I can’t make it.’”

“Why?”

“Well, it’s branding day at my uncle’s cattle ranch and I have to stay and help.”

“What do you have to do?”

“When the calves come into the pen I hold them down until they’re branded and castrated.”

Burke pauses for full comedic effect.

“I said, ‘Kid, you can skip these tests.’ And you know what, we never tested him.”

That was Linden. From the moment he was drafted by the Canucks, there was almost something too-good-to-be-true about the kid from Medicine Hat. He rode in from Alberta to help save a moribund franchise. As an 18-year-old he put his stamp on the team and this city.