dale hawerchuk, 1963—2020

Heavy news today: Dale Hawerchuk has died, of cancer, at the age of 57. A son of Oshawa, Ontario, he was a sublime centreman whose 16-year NHL career flourished most memorably in the 1980s when he led the Winnipeg Jets. It was with Winnipeg that he  won the Calder Trophy as the NHL’s best rookie in 1982. He went on to play for Buffalo, St. Louis, and Philadelphia before a hip injury ended his on-ice career in 1997. With the 1,409 regular-season points he racked up over the course of his career, he stands 20th in the all-time NHL register, just behind Doug Gilmour, a little ahead of Jari Kurri. Hawerchuk was elected to the Hockey Hall of Fame in 2001.

buckstruck

Pep Talking: Born in Ottawa on a Saturday of this date in 1895, George, a.k.a. Buck, was one of four Boucher brothers who played in the NHL. Bobby and Billy were no slouches, winning a Stanley Cup together as forwards with Montreal in 1924, but Frank and Buck were in another class, Hall-of-Famers both. Frank, of course, won seven Lady Byng trophies in eight years, while Buck anchored the Ottawa Senators’ defence while they were winning four Stanley Cups between 1920 and 1927. Buck went on to coach four NHL teams: Maroons in Montreal, his hometown Senators, Eagles in St. Louis, Bruins in Boston. That’s where we find him here, on the left above, ahead of a 1949 pre-season exhibition game in Providence, RI. That’s Bruins’ captain Milt Schmidt by his side, along with goaltender Jack Gelineau, and defenceman Bill Quackenbush. Boucher lasted just a single season in Boston: after they missed the playoffs that year, he was succeeded by Lynn Patrick.

grand prix

If you follow ‪@CP0031 on Twitter, you’ve seen that he lists his location as “Top of the paint.” His bio there is plain and simple: “Minder of nets — Thwarter of goals — Swatter of pucks.” Born in 1987 on a Sunday of this date in Vancouver, B.C., Price is 33 today. After registering a shutout in Friday’s 5-0 Montreal win over the Philadelphia Flyers, Price is back at it tonight, in Toronto — the minding, the thwarting, the swatting — as his Canadiens reconvene with Philadelphia. Their first-round Eastern Conference series is tied at a win apiece. The painting here is by Victoria, B.C. artist Timothy Wilson Hoey. You can browse more of his radiant takes on Canadian scenery, objets, foodstuffs, monarchs, incidents, and icons at  ocanadaart.com.

First Star: Carey Price takes a bow on Bell Centre ice following a shutout in December of 2017, back when the NHL operated in wintertime, with fans, in cities other than Toronto and Edmonton.

 

 

hockey with a grin

Children’s books featuring Bobby Clarke proliferated in his hockey-playing heyday in the 1970s; I’d even say they abounded. Fred McFadden’s Bobby Clarke (1972) should not be confused with Edward Dolan’s Bobby Clarke (1977); only the former, take note, belonged to the Superpeople series of mini-biographies, which also featured slim volumes profiling Jean Béliveau, Ken Dryden, Bobby Orr, Norman Bethune, Alexander Graham Bell, and Karen Kain, among others. John Gilbert’s An Interview With Bobby Clarke (1977) postulated that Clarke never bragged, whined, forgot a friend, or quit, also that he was too small to be a dirty player, Montreal coach Scotty Bowman just called him that to psych him out. Julian May’s 1975 Clarke bio, Hockey With A Grin, studied the love that Philadelphia fans quickly developed for their superstar centre and concluded this:

He was that rarity — a smiling hockey player. He enjoyed what he was doing and let the whole world know it. With his handsome, boyish face and gap-toothed grin, Bobby won the hearts of the fans.

Born on a Saturday of this date in 1949 in Flin Flon, Manitoba, Clarke turns 71 today. His popularity as a literary figure, of course, has to do with the hockey successes he helped engineer in the mid-1970s, when he captained the Flyers to back-to-back Stanley Cups while also winning Masterton and Selke trophies for himself, as well as (three times) the Hart Memorial Trophy.

It’s also founded on the inspiring story of how he succeeded despite having been diagnosed with diabetes as a teenager. “You’d better give up hockey,” is what the doctor in Fred McFadden’s bio tells young Bobby when he first breaks the news; in Julian May’s telling, the doctor says, “It would be best if you did not play hockey.”

Dolan boils it down this way:

Bobby’s doctors said that he might be able to play the goaltender spot but that he could never skate all over the rink in a game and still keep his health.

Whereupon, of course, he showed them, and everybody.

Along with our hero’s health, his smile, his refusal to quit, the Clarke oeuvre examines the man’s modesty; the qualities that made him such a great leader; how deeply Flin Flon was ingrained in his personality; and just what happened back in ol’ ’72 when he swung his stick in Moscow and broke Valeri Kharlamov’s ankle.

Clarke’s ongoing Flin Flon-ness, McFadden maintains, was apparent in the ’70s in the Flyers’ captain’s insistence on “driving a pick-up and listing hot dogs as his favourite food.”

On Kharlamov, the accounting of Clarke’s intent to injure the Soviet Union’s best player in Game Six of the Summit Series is surprisingly straightforward. All the bios take more or less the same shrugging view of the incident — no big deal, what’s all the fuss? In his Superpeople summing-up, McFadden allows that Clarke’s willingness to break the rules to win did cause “some people” to question his sportsmanship.

That’s as close as any of the Bobby-Clarke-for-young-readers books come to grappling with the ethics of the thing. Otherwise, Julian May’s take in Hockey With A Grin can represent the rest:

… Bobby was trailing Kharlamov. He suddenly realized: “This guy is killing us!” And almost without thinking, Bobby lashed at Kharlamov’s ankles with his stick.

Bobby got a two-minute penalty for slashing. The Russian was out for that game and for the next. “It’s not something I’m proud of,” Bobby recalled later, “but I honestly can’t say I was ashamed to do it.”

Flyerdelphian: Readers of John Gilbert’s 1977 bio-for-young-readers, An Interview With Bobby Clarke, learned that the Flyers’ captain never bragged, whined, or quit.

 

bonnie prince chuck

Sew-Sew: Rangers’ doctor Dr. Vincent Nardiello stitches up long-suffering New York goaltender Charlie Rayner in February of 1951.

Born in Sutherland, Saskatchewan, on a Wednesday of this very date in 1920, Charlie Rayner played a couple of seasons with the New York/Brooklyn Americans before he made his mark with the New York Rangers through the late 1940s and into the ’50s. For all his heroics in those years, they were mostly strugglesome for the Rangers, though the team did make it to the Stanley Cup final in 1950, the year Rayner won the Hart Memorial Trophy as the NHL’s MVP, outpolling Ted Kennedy and Maurice Richard. He was elevated to the Hockey Hall of Fame in 1973.

To play goal in the early decades of the NHL was to be cut, contused, and concussed, by even by the painful standards of the profession, Rayner stands out for his suffering. In a feature published midway through the 1950-51 NHL campaign, The New York Post noted that Rayner had already been carried from the ice eight times to date.

“So far this season, he’s lost five front teeth and required a total of 20 stitches.” Several of the latter were applied in an October game at the Montreal Forum, when Rayner was cut once (on the nose) and then a second time (on the back of his head) by skates belonging to Canadiens forward Frank King.

All in all, the Post calculated, Rayner’s 12 years of hockey goaling had cost him four broken noses and “innumerable stitches” along with fractures of the jaw and cheekbone. It was a knee injury that put an end to his NHL career, in the winter of 1953, when he was 32. A 23-year-old Gump Worsley was his successor in the New York net.

Down And Out: Rangers’ staff attend to Charlie Rayner after a shot by Boston defenceman Jack Crawford felled him at Madison Square Garden in November of 1947. The referee leaning down is Bill Chadwick; linesman George Hayes is beside him. Boston goaltender Frank Brimsek looks on at left along with teammates Joe Carveth (9) and Milt Schmidt (15). The gloveless Ranger looks to me like Alf Pike, except that he wasn’t with New York that year. Could be … Neil Colville?

 

wordsmith

You Can Call Him: Al Smith was a Penguin in Pittsburgh for two seasons, 1969-70 and 1970-71.

Al Smith’s best year in the nets might have been in 1977-78, with the New England Whalers, when he won the Ben Hatskin Trophy as the WHA’s best goaltender. Smith, who died on a Wednesday of this date in 2002 at the age of 56, got his pro start as a Toronto Maple Leaf in 1966. Before he retired from puckstopping in 1981, he also saw NHL service with Pittsburgh, Buffalo, Detroit, Hartford, and the Colorado Rockies. He subsequently worked selling cars and ads, picking fruit, and driving taxis. He wrote, too, in his later years, novels, including The Parade Has Passed and The Tragedy of Lake Tuscarora, and a long poem called Raymond Hollywood, and the play Confessions To Anne Sexton.

 

the artful ross

Shoulder Season: Art Ross leans into Bruin defenceman Jack Portland at practice in the late 1930s. (Image: Boston Public Library, Leslie Jones Collection)

There’s no need to exaggerate the influence that Art Ross exerted on the game of hockey and the way it’s played — what more could the man have done? He was an outstanding defender in the early years of the 20th century; designed the puck that the NHL adopted when it started up; devised the net that’s still in use today; was the first coach in the league to pull his goalie for an extra attacker. He did that, of course, as coach of the Boston Bruins, the team he was hired to run when they debuted in 1924, and the one he more or less shaped in his own never-back-down image, imprinting the franchise with his penchant for winning and contentious attitude right from the start.

A son of northern Ontario, Art Ross died on a Wednesday of this date in 1964 in the Boston suburb of Medford. He was 79.

His demise was, famously, reported long before that, in error: in the summer of 1918, newspapers across North America announced the sad news that he’d been killed in a motorcycle accident in New Hampshire.

Ross was 33 that year, and had just become a father for the first time. He’d spent part of the previous winter playing the only NHL games he ever got into, three of them. He was captain and playing coach of the ill-starred Montreal Wanderers, scoring his only NHL goal in the team’s very first game, against Toronto. The Wanderers didn’t last, folding after playing four games and defaulting another two. That was all for Ross as a player, though he did get back on the ice as a referee that season, and worked the Stanley Cup final that Toronto won that March.

In the summer, at the time of his purported death, Ross was mourned as one of the “best known hockey players, motor cyclists, footballers, trap shooters, and al-around sportsmen in Canada” — that, from the Vancouver Sun.

As it turned out, Ross had survived an accident that had killed his nephew, Hugh Ross. While some newspapers would still be mourning the elder Ross for weeks to come, he had escaped uninjured.

Ross was back on NHL ice the following winter as a referee. He got his next coaching gig in 1922, when he took the helm of another team that didn’t last, the Hamilton Tigers, before signing on in ’24 with Boston’s expansion team.

Reports of His Death: An ode to Ross from early July of 1918, after he was mistakenly reported killed in a motorcycle accident.

rocket launch

Sign Here: Franklin Arbuckle’s painting of a besieged Maurice Richard adorned the cover of Maclean’s magazine the week of March 28, 1959.

August 4 was a Thursday in 1921, and the weather was fine: the morning edition of Montreal’s La Patrie promised that, despite some rain in Alberta and Saskatchewan, “il fait généralement beau et modérément chaud par tout le Dominion.”

The national news that summer’s day was of forest fires on the rampage near Dawson City in the Yukon, and also around Springhill Mines, Nova Scotia. From Toronto’s Don Jail came word of the hanging, on Wednesday, of two men, named Hotrum and McFadden, who’d been convicted of shooting a drugstore-owner, name of Sabine, they’d been robbing. “It was stated,” the Gazette reported, “that Hotrum smiled as he left the death cell.”

Closer to home, on the Montreal waterfront, vessels tied up included the Minnedosa, the Cornishman, and the Canadian Seigneur; the shipping news disclosed that others, includingthe Mina Brea, the Bosworth, and the Canadian Commander, were headed into harbour.

An open-air dance was on the cards that week, in the Summer Garden, the Jardin d’Été, at the corner of Sherbrooke and Saint-Laurent. At the pictures, the New Grand was featuring David Powell in Appearances, while the Belmont had Marie Doro starring in Midnight Gambols.

In foreign news, the world was reeling from the shock of the death in Naples on August 2 of Italian operatic tenor Enrico Caruso, at just 48. Others headlines brought tidings from Dublin, where Éamon de Valera was taking steps to declare himself President of the Republic.

In London, the seventh anniversary of Britain’s declaration of war on Germany was noted but — for the first time since 1918 — not observed with any ceremony.

From Liverpool came news that Lord Byng of Vimy and Lady Byng were aboard the Empress of France, setting sail for Canada so that he could take up his duties as the new governor-general. The couple, along with their beloved spaniel, Pax, was expected to arrive in Quebec on August 11, where Prime Minister Arthur Meighen would greet them before the couple journeyed on to Ottawa the following day.

Lord Byng, of course, had commanded the Canadian Corps through the Vimy campaign of 1917. “A very simple living man, modest and retiring,” the press was reporting that week. “He has also a passion for tree-felling.”

As for Lady Byng, she had a new novel due out in the fall, Barriers, that McClelland & Stewart would be publishing. The winter ahead would also make her a hockey fan. Introduced to the defending Stanley Cup champion Ottawa Senators in December, she was soon taking a regular seat in the vice-regal box at Dey’s Arena, developing a devotion to the team, even as she came to wish that the game itself might conduct itself in a more gentlemanly way. With that in mind, before her husband’s tenure came to an end in 1926, she’d donate the trophy that bears her name.

Not noted in any Montreal newspaper columns that eventful week in 1921: the birth of a baby in Montreal’s east end on this day, all those 99 years ago, a first son for a young carpenter named Onésime Richard and his wife, Alice.

Joseph Henri Maurice was what they’d call their boy, known as Maurice, mostly, in his earliest years. Later, of course, when the world saw him on skates, and the intensity with he roared towards the goal with the puck on his stick, he was simply the Rocket.

leafs in bud

Man of the Book: Ed Fitkin’s Kennedy bio appeared in 1949, five years after the man they called Teeder made his playoff debut as an 18-year-old.

With the Toronto Maple Leafs launching 18-year-old Nick Robertson into the NHL tonight — he’ll be in the line-up for the Leafs’ Stanley Cup Qualifier, making his big-league debut against the Columbus Blue Jackets — would we turn back for a moment to another youthful premiere in club history? Of course we would, and it would be a March night in 1944, when the great Ted Kennedy made his first playoff start for the Leafs.

The future Leaf captain and Hart-Trophy winner who’d go on to win five Stanley Cups with Toronto was, like Robertson, 18 when he played that first playoff game of his, though Kennedy was in fact younger on his debut than his modern-day counterpart by seven months or so.

Worth noting: Kennedy wasn’t the only 18-year-old in the Leafs’ line-up that night in the ’40s. Nor was he the youngest Leaf in the game.

This was wartime, of course, and with many NHL players having departed the league for military service, all six teams found themselves hard-pressed for manpower.

Desperate for skaters, the Leafs had signed a couple of 17-year-olds that season, including winger Eric Prentice, who (it so happens) grew up to be the father of the late federal cabinet minister and Alberta premier Jim Prentice. Prentice Sr. is still the youngest player to have played for the Leafs.

A bevy of 19-year-olds had seen Leaf service during the regular season in 1943-44, too, including a goaltender, Jean Marois, and winger Bud Poile, the future GM of the Philadelphia Flyers and Vancouver Canucks whose son, David, is president and GM of the Nashville Predators.

To open playoffs that night in ’44, the Leafs faced the Montreal Canadiens, who’d finished the regular season atop the NHL standings, a full 33 points ahead of third-place Toronto.

Though he was making his first playoff start, 18-year-old Ted Kennedy had played almost the entire regular season for the Leafs, contributing 25 goals and finishing fourth in team scoring. Joining him at centre in blue-and-white was another veteran, 18-year-old Jack Hamilton, who’d played his first playoff game for the team a year earlier, when he was 17. Also at centre for the Leafs that night was 20-year-old Gus Bodnar; left winger Don Webster was 19.

The youngest Leaf on the ice that night was the other 17-year-old in the Leafs’ stable, defenceman Ross Johnstone. A year earlier he’d been playing for the OHA’s Oshawa Generals, coached by former Leaf titan Charlie Conacher, as they vied for (but lost) the Memorial Cup against the Winnipeg Rangers of the MJHL.

The oldest Leaf player that night in Montreal in 1944? Right winger Lorne Carr was 33 while left winger and team captain Bob Davidson had just turned 32.

The Leafs did get off to a good series start, all those 76 years ago, surprising Montreal in their own building and beating them 3-1.

“Spirit,” Leaf coach Hap Day explained afterwards, “is the quality that we have the most of, and that’s what paid off dividends.”

Not to jinx anything, but it was all downhill from there for Toronto. Montreal swept back to win the next four games and the series, before continuing on to beat the Chicago Black Hawks and win the Stanley Cup. In the game that decided the series against the fledgling Leafs, Montreal swamped them by a score of 11-0.

gone wrong, one on one: a short history of playoff penalty-shot nonfeasance

Before The Oil: Duke Keats, star of Edmonton’s Eskimos from the old WCHL and a future Hall-of-Famer, out for a country ramble during the 1921-22 season. In 1923, he missed a penalty shot in the Stanley Cup final, but he wasn’t the only one. (Image: Glenbow Archives, NC-6-8095)

Conor Sheary shot wide; when it was his turn, Jonathan Drouin tried for a backhand, but the puck wasn’t interested, and wandered wide.

The Montreal Canadiens exceeded the Pittsburgh Penguins last night in Toronto, 3-2 in overtime, with each team failing to score on a penalty shot. Sheary’s chance came in the third period, while Drouin failed to score in overtime as the NHL resumed its 2019-20 season with a flurry of Stanley Cup Qualifiers yesterday.

In the bold new world of the NHL’s emergency overhaul of its season, we’re not quite into the playoffs, yet — unless you’re talking about statistics and records-keeping. In that case, yes. As the league stipulates in its Return To Play manual, all these August games, round-robin and qualifying-round, “are considered part of the 2020 post-season,” and will go into the books as such.

Got it? Ready, then, for an historical note on the last time a playoff game featured a pair of penalty shots?

Good.

It was 97 years ago, since you’re wondering, on a Thursday at the end of March in 1923, in the first game of the Stanley Cup final.

That night, three penalty shots were awarded and duly taken. All three were failed efforts.

Vancouver was the scene, although (like last night) both of the teams involved were only visiting. In those years, up until 1926, the Stanley Cup final pitted the NHL champions against a western counterpart. In 1923, that meant the mighty Ottawa Senators were playing the Edmonton team from the old WCHL, who were called the Eskimos long before the CFL arrived in town.

The NHL didn’t adopt the penalty shot until 1934, but out west, where the canny Patrick brothers ran the PCHL, it had been in effect (for the WCHL, too) since 1921. The way it was then, when teams from rival leagues played for the Stanley Cup, they alternated rulebooks, game by game. The opening game of the ’23 final was played under western rules. Mickey Ion was the referee.

Ottawa prevailed that night, winning 2-1 in overtime thanks to a goal by Cy Denneny. Before that they’d failed to convert two penalty shots, while Edmonton missed one.

They did it differently, in those years. Instead of rushing in from centre-ice the way Sheary and Drouin did last night, a player 1923 saw the puck placed on one of three three-foot circles that were spread out across the ice in what we’d call the high slot, about 35 feet from the net. The shot would be taken from whichever circle was closest to where the infraction had taken place. Players had a choice: they could take the shot standing still, or they could make a skating start, building up speed as they approached the puck. They had to shoot it; carrying the puck to the net wasn’t allowed.

In 1923, Ottawa papers noted that the Senators’ disadvantage when it came to penalty shots, “something they were entirely unfamiliar with.”

In the first period, Ottawa defenceman Georges Boucher was on the rush when an Edmonton counterpart, Bob Trapp, tripped him. Ottawa sent in their leading scorer, Cy Denneny, to take the shot. Edmonton goaltender foiled him: he “dropped his stick,” the Ottawa Journal noted, “and caught the puck nicely.”

Later in the period, after Trapp took down Denneny, another Ottawa winger, Punch Broadbent, stepped up to take the penalty shot. “Although he directed it straight as a gun barrel,” Ottawa’s Citizen reported, “Winkler blocked it.”

In the third, up 1-0, Edmonton got its chance at a free shot when Ottawa defenceman King Clancy upended Eskimo winger Johnny Shepard. Edmonton sent in their top goalscorer to try his luck, the great Duke Keats, but his shot from the right-side spot didn’t trouble Ottawa goaltender Clint Benedict.

Back in Alberta, fans despairing after Denneny’s overtime winner put Ottawa ahead in the best-of-three final awoke next morning to find a column under Keats’ byline in the Edmonton Journal asking them not to worry. The Eskimos, he guaranteed, weren’t beaten yet — “not by a darn sight.”

It would be good to see something similar in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette today from Conor Sheary, though it doesn’t seem to have materialized yet. Or maybe it should be another one for the Journal in Edmonton, this time under Connor McDavid’s name.

Of course, for Duke Keats in 1923, it didn’t work out so well. The Senators would wrap up the series the following day, that March, shutting out Edmonton 1-0 on Punch Broadbent’s goal to claim the Stanley Cup.