Chicago trainer Eddie Froelich stitches Howie Morenz during the Mitchell Meteor’s short stint as a Black Hawk in the mid-1930s. When hockey season wasn’t in session, Froelich worked in baseball, tending the Chicago White Sox, Boston Red Sox, and New York Yankees over the course of his long career. Reminiscing in 1944, he said that Morenz was the most intense athlete he’d ever worked with. “There is no doubt,” he said, “that Howie is one of the greatest of hockey players — perhaps the greatest. He was as fast as light on skates, of course, and an expert stickhandler. But his skill was nothing compared to his love of the game. His approach to hockey was that of an artist and he had his full share of artistic temperament. Hockey was his life and his ability was a matter of all-consuming pride. You, of course, are familiar how athletes react when you write something about them that isn’t a plug. Sometimes they get mad. Sometimes they pretend to ignore it. Sometimes they’ll try to argue with you. But you never knew anyone quite like Morenz. As the years rolled by, he naturally got no better. Every once in a while some little observation that he wasn’t as fast as he used to be would get onto the sports page. Morenz wouldn’t get angry. He wouldn’t even talk about it. But he would brood for days and you actually could see the pain in his eyes.”

(Image: Boston Public Library, Leslie Jones Collection)