Sidney Crosby scored goal No. 500. No big deal.

At a glance, sure, it’s impressive. He’s only the 46th player to do it. (He still trails Pat Verbeek by 22.) It was his 50th goal against Philadelphia, the old enemy. It came in a win, which is paramount to Crosby. It was assisted by Evgeni Malkin and occurred on Jaromir Jagr’s 50th birthday, an odd juxtaposition of Penguins icons.

But with Crosby, it’s about what’s next. The next win, the next goal, the next milestone.

That sort of focus is how you get 500 goals.

Words don’t always do justice when describing Crosby.

At heart, Crosby is hockey’s best grinder ever, except he hates that description. He colors inside the lines: No one has been better fundamentally or over 200 feet. He’s not a human highlight reel like Mario Lemieux, save the odd spectacular goal. His trademarks when it comes to finishing are his backhand, hockey’s best ever, and his abrupt-angle deflections. Crosby’s most famous tally, his “golden goal” for Canada to win the 2010 Olympics tournament, was an ordinary wrist shot.

When the Crosby statue is cast, it should be him shooting from one knee. Simple, but effective.

Since Crosby entered the NHL, critics have tried to argue that somebody else is better.

Yet Edmonton’s Connor McDavid has won one playoff series in seven seasons, and his Oilers are on the fringe of the current postseason race. (Crosby’s Penguins are headed for a 16th straight playoff berth.)

Remember when Crosby “passed the torch” to Philadelphia’s Claude Giroux? Uh, not quite. Now the best Giroux can hope for is to escape that Titanic of a franchise and go somewhere else to fly high using borrowed wings. (See Bourque, Ray.)

Give Alex Ovechkin credit. He’s right there.

Crosby just wants to win. Everything else gets compiled in single-minded pursuit of that. He’s an anomaly among today’s ego-driven athletes. (But not rare in hockey.)

He’s got three Stanley Cups. He’s also got a second wind.

Crosby has 10 goals and 18 assists in 20 games since the new year. The Penguins are 14-3-3 over that stretch. Crosby is a serial winner. It’s all he cares about. Witness him hitting the deck near the blue paint to block a shot with a 1-0 lead in the waning seconds at Ottawa last Thursday.

McDavid wouldn’t (or be anywhere near his own net). Lemieux wouldn’t. Heck, he’d brag about not doing it.

Crosby is 34. But it’s easy to imagine him playing into his 40s. He’s got a bit of the Tom Brady about him. He’s been a conditioning nut since he was a kid. Hockey comes first.

Six hundred goals seems likely. Could Crosby catch Lemieux at 690?

It would help if the Penguins played the Flyers more. Crosby tortures them.

In the second month of his rookie season, Crosby had his smile knocked awry courtesy of a high stick by the Flyers’ Derian Hatcher. He retaliated by netting a breakaway in overtime, flashing his chipped teeth in grinning, wild-eyed celebration.

At that moment, Crosby was reborn as one of us.

The only negative thing about Crosby’s 500th goal is that I wasn’t there to see it. The Legends of Rock IX cruise beckoned: Deep Purple, Blue Oyster Cult, Jefferson Starship, etc.

Had I known for sure, I’d have skipped the trip. So I followed the Penguins on Twitter while I watched Styx.

To quote Fez from “That ‘70s Show”, “In my country we have a saying: ‘Ugh. Styx.’ ” I left long before “Renegade.”

Copyright ©2025— Trib Total Media, LLC (TribLIVE.com)