Don't Call Me Goon , livre ebook

Ecw Press - Greg Oliver

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143 pages

English

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In pro hockey, enforcers are as popular with fans as the stars who cash the big paycheques. Called upon to duke it out with fellow troublemakers, or to shadow (and bruise) an opponent's top scorer, these men get the crowds out of their seats and the TV fans spilling their beers in excitement. Don't Call Me Goon gives the mayhem-makers their due by sharing their overlooked stories and contributions to the game. Drawing on a wealth of knowledge, research and interviews, Oliver and Kamchen highlights the players who have perfected the art of on-ice enforcing.

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Hockey sobre hielo

Ice hockey

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Publié par	Ecw Press
Date de parution	10 octobre 2013
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781770904217
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0450€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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To that old-time hockey!

INTRODUCTION

OFTEN OVERLOOKED AMONG the beautiful end-to-end rushes, pretty passes, explosive slap shots, and glorious glove saves are the hockey enforcers who ensure the most talented players are allowed to shine.
Before the enforcer came into being, players of all sizes and skills were on their own and were expected to take care of themselves. All-Star defenceman Eddie Shore, who routinely excited crowds with his rushes and scoring prowess generations before Bobby Orr would do the same, accumulated 978 stitches before retiring from the game. And before him, many a player was cut down with fouls that left a gash on his head and a pool of blood in his wake. Those who refused to get back up to fight another day were quickly drummed out of the sport.
The game of those early days makes today’s hockey seem tame. The players were ruthless and brutal, many seemingly on a mission to stop the opposition by any means necessary. And often those means included a heavy stick, which they used with little or no restraint, chopping one another down with crushing blows that would earn them lifetime suspensions—and perhaps even lengthy prison terms—today.
Then along came the enforcer, who would instill fear into opponents who previously had no qualms about belting smaller, more talented players into submission. “The first one to come along to protect people was [John] Ferguson,” said Hall of Fame defenceman Pierre Pilote. “There were other fighters in the league, but all of a sudden we noticed Ferguson was going to be protecting the guys.”
Thanks to the muscle Ferguson provided for his Canadiens teammates, hockey’s most gifted would be given a better chance to demonstrate their talents without fearing for their health or being forced to respond in kind to the wild men who would otherwise have squashed them, dragging them to the penalty box in an unequal exchange of talent.
By the expansion era, the game had regressed to an earlier period of brutality as the new franchises, thin on talent, promoted the toughest and most desperate to escape the bush leagues in order to intimidate their way to victories. Other teams responded and, eventually, balance was again restored as every winning club had deterrents on their benches. No longer could any team rule by sheer force alone.
Enforcers—protectors who’d let the opposition know that transgressions against their stars would not be tolerated—remained prominent in the 1980s. With heavies like Dave Semenko looking out for him, a lanky superstar by the name of Wayne Gretzky would rewrite the record books and last 20 years in what was once the most violent professional sport on Earth. Gretzky knocked Gordie Howe off in the record books, but it is unlikely he could ever have knocked him off on the ice, though they did faceoff against each other at the beginning of the Great One’s career and at the end of Howe’s. After all, the Gordie Howe Hat Trick—a goal, an assist, and a fight—is still referenced today.
Howe is just one of numerous stars in the league’s history to have demonstrated a flair for fisticuffs to go along with his scoring prowess.
Besides owning the Norris Trophy, Bobby Orr was a tough guy who had no problem throwing down. Orr would be tested in his rookie season as veterans looked to see if the new golden boy would back down. He wouldn’t, mixing it up with Montreal’s Terry Harper and New York’s Reg Fleming. Orr’s fights wouldn’t be confined to his first pro year, and he’d prove himself handy, even holding his own against the likes of the Rangers’ Orland Kurtenbach.

Dave “Tiger” Williams of the Toronto Maple Leafs lands a left on the jaw of Guy Lapointe of the Montreal Canadiens while being held by the linesman during a game in December 1975. (AP Photo/DMB)
Typically he’d raise his hands in retribution, flashing his temper if he’d been wronged on the ice. He went wild after Toronto’s Brian Conacher accidentally clipped him on the nose, steaming through teammates to get at Conacher and then mauling him. After Pat Quinn of the Leafs knocked him out with an elbow, Orr gave him his receipt, dropping the gloves and pounding away on Quinn after he fell to the ice. Opponents took notice of such vengeful attacks. Also not lost on them would be the severe retribution the Big Bad Bruins or Lunch Pail Gang would inflict on anyone taking liberties with Orr.
Besides being an All-Star defenceman for the New York Rangers, Brad Park showed up for any challenges thrown his way and engaged in numerous fights. But when he went to Boston, Don Cherry told him to turn the other cheek since his value was greater on the ice than in the penalty box: “Deep down, I loved it when Brad fought, but I had my designated fighters, and he wasn’t one of them,” Cherry wrote in Grapes .
Opponents recognized Park’s value to the Bruins and would try to goad him into fights. Cherry had had enough when Detroit’s Dennis Polonich drove Park to go after him, which resulted in Park getting thrown out of the game. Afterwards, Cherry told reporters Park was forbidden to fight and if he did, he’d get fined. “I told the entire league, in effect, that Park was no longer permitted to fight so he, therefore, no longer felt obliged to display his toughness and we were all the better for it,” Cherry wrote.
Another ’70s All-Star, Larry Robinson, was feared for his size and big open-ice hits. And although he didn’t get in many fights, his pugilistic acumen deterred most from bothering this particular member of Montreal’s Big Three. At 6-foot-4, Robinson towered over his peers and was one dandy fighter, typically mopping the ice with anyone he faced, even a heavyweight specialist like Dave “Hammer” Schultz.
Power forwards also hurt other teams, with their scoring touch and physical intimidation.
Wendel Clark of the Leafs came into the NHL with all guns firing, hitting and fighting everything that moved, no matter how big. He had no qualms about taking on enforcers like Bob Probert, Behn Wilson, and Marty McSorley.
“Talk about giving 100% in a fight, that’s what he did. It’s not always the biggest dog in the fight,” said Todd Ewen. “There’s lots of guys who can throw a punch but not a lot of guys who can really throw a punch. A lot of people think that you throw a punch with your shoulders and arms, and Wendel threw with his legs. It came from his toes all the way through his hands and when he threw he had bad intentions—he was awesome and that’s why he did so well.”
“Wendel Clark had a huge impact on the game. He could play any way you wanted to play,” added Dave Manson. “He wasn’t the biggest guy in stature, but he played a big man’s game. Plus he could score, plus he could hit, plus he could fight, plus, plus. Wendel was the epitome of a power forward back in the day.”
But given that Clark was by far the best Leaf on the ice, he sometimes needed reining in. When the Red Wings assigned Joe Kocur to shadow Clark in the 1987 Norris Division Final, John Brophy forbade Clark from duking it out with his cousin. Even a legendary minor-league roughneck like Brophy could see no upside in Toronto losing its best man in exchange for a role-player like Kocur.
Clark’s style also forced him to cut back on his fighting. His first two years of vigorous play took their toll, giving him back problems that nearly caused him to retire and forced him to miss most of three straight seasons. When he returned as a regular, his fight card wasn’t nearly as full as it had been during his first two years.
But he made his point in those early years, and as he was still able to throw a devastating hit or get into a fight—like that with Marty McSorley in Toronto’s 1993 series with the Los Angeles Kings—other teams were wary of him. Clark could still put the fear into other teams. After warning Pavel Bure in a playoff contest the following year that he’d take his head off if Gino Odjick didn’t lay off Doug Gilmour, Odjick got Bure’s message to leave Gilmour alone.
“Look at the amount of respect guys gave him going in the corner fighting for the puck after he went out there and made a statement or two,” said Ewen. “That’s a tribute to the four skills of hockey, not three—skating, shooting, passing, and checking. The physical contact is a major part of hockey.”
Milan Lucic is the modern-day prototype of the power forward. An amateur boxer in his teens, the 6-foot-4, 220-pounder jumped out of the Bruins gates with fists flying. A glimpse of the total package he had to offer came early in his first season, in an October 2007 game against the Kings, during which he recorded a Gordie Howe Hat Trick, with his first goal, an assist, and a fight against enforcer Raitis Ivanãns. He made an impression, racking up 13 majors in his rookie season.
The following year, Lucic played on the first line with Marc Savard and Phil Kessel, and his coach, like Brophy with Clark, tried to rein him in. In a late November 2008 contest against the Canadiens, coach Claude Julien ordered Lucic not to take the bait of tough-guy Georges Laraque. “There was no way it was going to happen,” Julien said at the time. “[Shawn] Thornton was there, ready for Georges. Nothing happened. My tough guy was ready for their tough guy. Simple as that. I told him not to fight. It was me.”
Although concentrating more on scoring, Lucic continued to stand up and be counted, duking it out with top heavies like Matt Carkner, Colton Orr, John Erskine, Jay Rosehill, and Chris Neil.
In 2011–2012, the NHLPA and CBC ’s Hockey Night in Canada released a joint poll of over 250 NHL players, and Lucic was named the NHL ’s toughest player.
Lucic’s teammate Zdeno Chara was the runner-up in that same poll, but he was also overwhelmingly voted the defenceman hardest to play against.
Chara is something of a throwback to when talented leaders on defence didn’t shy awa