A masked man and five of his compatriots held the city of New York captive. Nine million people at the mercy of the bladed warriors who had come to conquer the 54 year-old curse.

Scores of men had failed to slay the ageless dragon and now, in one mighty swoop, the 1993-94 army had the beast beaten and bloodied, inches from extinction.

New Yorkers from Times Square to Bensonhurst waited for the shackles of defeat to be cast aside. To the victor goes the spoils, and for once, the glorious taste of success was only seconds away.

All the while, one hero stood out among them. Neither the strongest nor tallest, fastest nor most graceful, No. 11 had succeeded in unifying the most diverse city in the history of the world.

And as he lifted the odd-shaped silver object to the heavens in exultation, Mark Messier had established himself as the greatest leader the sports world has ever seen.

When he came to the Rangers from Edmonton for the 1991-92 NHL season, his credentials spoke for themselves. Aside from being among the elite players to ever lace up a pair of skates, the captain possessed a burning thirst for victory, a desire so intense, anything short of a win was failure. Anything short of the complete and total pursuit of victory, utterly unacceptable.

And so when he competes with cracked ribs, or a back so sore that standing is a chore, it's for a single reason -- victory.

The leader is at his best in the most trying times. In the aftermath of the Rangers debacle in game five of the NHL semifinals last year, with the daunting task of overcoming the New Jersey Devils at the Meadowlands looming, the leader spoke.

"We'll beat them in game six, and then be back (in New York) getting ready for game seven. Print it. I guarantee it," he told the hordes of New York media crowding around his locker.

With this simple statement, Messier erased any doubt among his teammates, renewed his belief in the reality of the goal and assuaged the fears of an entire city.

Now all he had to do was deliver. And deliver he did.

Legendary hockey and basketball broadcaster Marv Albert described it as one of the single greatest feats in sports history. Trailing heading into the final period of the sixth game, the captain notched a hat trick, giving the Rangers a 4-2 win. Promise fulfilled. Legend solidified.

Throughout the season, Messier acted as the intermediary between the volitale and dictatorial Coach Mike Keenan (now with the St. Louis Blues) and the rest of the team. And as a divided house began to crumble, the leader emerged again.

"In-between periods, Mike went ballastic" an unidentified Ranger told the New York Daily News days after the season ended. He referred to an incident between the second and third periods of game six of the Stanley Cup Finals, a game the Rangers lost.

"Mike told us how terrible we were, how we weren't trying. And Mess just stared at (Keenan). Then Keenan crumbled. After that it was all positive. Mark stood up for us, and a lot of guys looked at him as the boss."

Time after time, he bailed them out. On the ice and off it. But this is the public Messier. The one everyone knows. It's rare to hear about the leader's other side.

People laugh about the travels of the Stanley Cup trophy. To bars around Manhattan, to the bottom of Mario Lemieux's swimming pool, to Belmont Park to be used as a feeding bowl for thoroughbred horses. Mark Messier brought it to another place. He brought it to a children's hospital, so kids with cancer could get to see it up close.

Tomorrow night, the banner honoring the 1993-94 Stanley Cup Champions will be raised to the rafters at Madison Square Garden.

Messier is at training camp, without a contract. He is exercising his contractual right to renegotiate because the Rangers won the title. Business concerns aside, he vowed to be in the lineup tomorrow night.

I guarantee it.