The Goal of My Life (10 page)

Still, we were becoming a team by that point, we could all feel it. Sinden was great at keeping us focused on each individual game.

“Just worry about winning game five, and the rest of the series will take care of itself,” Sinden told us. He was cool and professional and offset his assistant coach John Ferguson well, as Fergie was far more emotional. But they made a great pair and kept us on track despite the enormous pressure and challenge we were facing.

The Russians were certainly going to make it as difficult as possible for us. We were absolutely surprised at how spartan our accommodations were and how they treated us when we arrived.

It was sort of hilarious, actually. Our wives had come over ahead of us and discovered that all the rooms, for instance, had two single beds … and they were positioned head to head in the rooms! Eleanor told them, “This is not going to work with my husband,” and she had the beds moved together, side by side. Talk about mind games.

There was what amounted to a warden stationed on every floor of the hotel, and we had to leave our key with them whenever we left. They were all about control, and they were in control in that hotel. The food was … well, let’s just say it was pretty mediocre at best and the rest of the time downright
awful! Eleanor grew up on a farm and knew a rotten egg when she saw one – and one morning at breakfast we were served an egg that was black on the bottom and green on the top. You didn’t have to be a farm girl to know that egg had gone bad.

We’d get phone calls in the middle of the night too, just enough to disturb our sleep. We were all sure the rooms were bugged, but what purpose that would serve, nobody really knew. It was a weird situation and we certainly weren’t treated like special guests in the country.

We did our best to counter that, especially on the food front. Eleanor had the foresight to bring over provisions like peanut butter, granola, chocolate bars, and cookies. We had our own steaks brought over, but the Russian chefs soon wound up selling them, and some of our stash of beer was hijacked too!

None of this did anything to ease the tensions between the two cultures. It’s been well documented, but this series was about more than just hockey – it was about our way of life versus theirs. And with every game in this series, those tensions only increased. Thank goodness that we had those three thousand crazy Canadians in the stands in Russia cheering us on – those great fans really lifted our spirits.

Many people have since speculated that it was the Russians’ way of trying to throw us off our games, and that might have been part of it. But some of it I think was more about incompetence than anything sinister. There was little to no accountability in the communist system at that time, and I really believe it was more a case of mismanagement than a plot against us. But whatever the case, it wasn’t a factor once the games were on. We were ready to play from the moment we got over there and we were intent on winning the series.

It was important for us to keep our sense of humour, given
the conditions in Russia. And we did, although once two of our players took the humour part a little far.

One day during the series, we were at the hotel and, as usual, we weren’t looking forward to any of the meals we’d be getting. But some good news came courtesy of Chicago Blackhawks defencemen Bill White and Pat Stapleton, who were well-known jokesters.

White was about six-foot-four and Stapleton was about four-foot-six, so they were a funny pair to start with. But they really sucked us in once by announcing they had found this fantastic Chinese restaurant and made arrangements for the whole team to eat there. We couldn’t believe our luck – we had been searching high and low for better food to eat, and here they had discovered a great place.

They went around telling everyone that the buses would pick everybody up in front of the hotel at 6:00 p.m. and we’d all go together and have a terrific dinner. That really lifted the mood – until, of course, we found out that it was that duo’s idea of a practical joke and that there was no Chinese restaurant anywhere near the hotel! Groups were even meeting in the lobby to head out together, only to find out it was all a hoax.

The worst part of it all: somebody actually cancelled the team’s dinner at the hotel that night in anticipation of the Chinese feast, so we were completely out of luck that night! Ah, but White and Whitey (as Stapleton is known) had the right idea – they wanted to inject some levity into the situation and help us laugh and relax a bit. And you know, it worked … after we got over missing dinner, of course!

Despite the hole we were in, I would describe our mood as more expectant than nervous. We basically knew who was
going to be playing by this point, so that distraction had been removed, and I was really looking forward to playing in the games over there.

First, things were going quite well for me. Our line was playing very solid hockey at both ends of the rink. Ronnie, Bobby, and I had jelled so that we were certain we’d be in the lineup for every game. I liked the idea of the big ice surface too; I remember telling Eleanor that this larger ice surface was my cup of tea. My strengths had always been my speed and my shot, so I felt this was the perfect scenario for me. I was very, very confident heading into game five.

Then, of course, we experienced international refereeing again. Like I said, there were no excuses, but my goodness, was the officiating ever inconsistent in that fifth game! We had a quiet assurance that we could come back in the series, and to a man we felt that we outplayed the Russians in that fifth game of the series after it was over. And early on, everything looked great.

J.P. Parise opened the scoring late in the first period, I fed Clarke a pass later on and he beat Tretiak to make it 2–0, and I scored at 11:58 to give us a 3–0 advantage. What a great start to the Russian leg of the series!

But it all fell apart for us. I was tripped and went head first into the boards at full speed and had to be helped off the ice. Jim Murray, our doctor, informed me I had a concussion. Against doctor’s orders I trudged back out there and scored with fifteen minutes left to play to give us a 4–1 lead after the Russians had gotten on the scoreboard – that second goal came with me suffering from a pounding headache, but nothing was keeping me from being out there!

There are so many concussions in hockey these days, and so much written and said about them. It seems that concussions, and their effects on athletes, have become the biggest single worry in hockey, especially since they’ve happened to some of the game’s greatest stars.

I have had six concussions since I started playing hockey, so I certainly know what they feel like and how bad they can be. They have happened at various times in my playing career, including the one I had right in the middle of the Canada–Russia series. I had some at the start of my career and others later on too.

The first one was in my first junior B game – I was knocked out cold in a game against the St. Marys Lincolns while playing for the Goderich Sailors. I also got one in my first game of junior A. My third concussion happened in 1966 in the
NHL
when I got nailed on the temple by a slap shot from Doug Barkley with the Detroit Red Wings, and that was the concussion that convinced me to put on a helmet and keep it on during my playing career.

After that concussion, the doctors made me play the rest of the year with a helmet, and it took a while to get used to. But eventually I got comfortable wearing it and I kept one on from that point after. Eleanor also really wanted me to keep wearing one and that certainly helped me make my decision.

It was a different era then, to be sure. Most teams didn’t want their players wearing helmets, and the Red Wings were one such team. Our coach and general manager, Sid Abel, made that clear to me as soon as I started wearing one the next season. Now, I had worked out a deal with
CCM
that paid me to wear their helmet on the ice, and when I told Sid what the deal was worth, he was surprised and at least
understood my position a little better. But I had to promise him that, if the helmet hurt my ability to play in any way, shape, or form, I’d take it off.

Soon after I started wearing it, I scored four goals in a game against the New York Rangers. Sid saw me after that game and said there would be no problem with me wearing a helmet, and it was never an issue after that. Stan Mikita, one of the best scorers in hockey at the time and a future Hockey Hall of Famer, had put on a helmet the year before, which also helped relieve any stigma.

I guess it was just a sign of the times. Wearing a helmet was looked at as a sign of weakness in some quarters. The thinking was wrong, of course, especially with what we know now about concussions. Just imagine a player not wearing a helmet today. The mere idea is ridiculous. But our knowledge about concussions wasn’t what it is today, and if we knew then what we know now, our thinking would have been different – at least I hope so.

Even when I was wearing a helmet, I know I played hurt at times, but you just did back then – that’s the way it was. Everybody plays hurt in hockey, even today, but in the six-team era, if you were out of the lineup too long, you ran the risk of losing your job. With so few
NHL
jobs around, you just couldn’t afford to take that chance.

I would play with headaches, pounding headaches. But remember, this was a different era. We wouldn’t do that today. The concussion in game five in Moscow was probably the worst-timed of them all. I was examined by Jim Murray, our team doctor, and he was adamant – I had a concussion. He basically told me I was done. I couldn’t go back on the ice during the biggest series of my life.

Harry Sinden, our coach, came into the dressing room and conferred with him. The doctor told him in no uncertain terms that I had to sit out, at least for the rest of that game.

“Harry, don’t do this to me,” I pleaded. “I want to play, I’ve got to play.”

Harry was a good coach and a responsible man, and he didn’t want to risk my health any more than the doctor did. But when he saw how adamant I was about getting back into that game and the series, he relented.

“If you really want to play, I’m not going to stop you,” Harry said. And I was back out there for the next period – not only for that game, but for the rest of the series.

Now, again, I have to emphasize: this was 1972, when we knew basically nothing about head injuries, and we were in a dressing room in Russia to boot, so there sure wasn’t going to be any advanced medical screening. So … back on the ice I went. There is no way that I, or any other player, would be let back on the ice under those circumstances today. No way. Does that make my decision wrong? Not in my mind. There was nothing that would keep me out of that series, and since the true dangers of being concussed were not known, I felt then – and still feel now – it was the right thing to do. Fortunately for me, despite the massive pounding headache I had for the rest of the game, I suffered no real long-term effects – at least none that I am aware of! I was lucky, I guess, that none of the six concussions I sustained resulted in any permanent damage. A lot of players have had head injuries that shortened their careers, as we all know. As it is, I can afford to joke about it – I tell everybody I’d be a lot more intelligent than I am today if I hadn’t had six concussions and cancer. My illnesses have given me a good excuse for everything!

But all kidding aside, my main point is that it is not hypocritical to think differently about a serious issue in retrospect. Changing your mind isn’t a sign of hypocrisy, it’s just a sign that maybe you’ve gotten a little wiser over the years. The great Muhammad Ali once said that the man who sees the world the same at sixty as he did at thirty has wasted thirty years of his life. That is very true.

Despite our gaining a 4–1 advantage, the Russians came right back. They scored two goals eight seconds apart and wound up scoring four straight goals in ten minutes with Vladimir Vikulov notching the game-winner at 14:46 of the third period, breaking in alone and beating Tony Esposito. Tony slammed his stick on the ice in disgust, and we left the ice wondering how we could have let that game get away, a 5–4 loss.

People look back on this now and wonder how we could have bounced back from such a devastating loss. But as bad as that loss was, there were a lot of positives from that game. There were three thousand crazy Canadian fans in the stands cheering us on, for starters, and that warmed our hearts. We had begun to think the country had abandoned us after the debacle in Vancouver, so that was encouraging.

The refereeing wasn’t that great once again, but we had managed to take a three-goal lead twice with it, so we knew it was something we could overcome. Alan Eagleson was doing everything he could to look after our needs there, and although the Russians were in control in their own country, Al kept them honest and always had our backs. We never forgot him for that.

Phil Esposito was an incredible leader for us too. Phil had a remarkable
NHL
career, but in my mind he was never better
than he was in that series in 1972. He played a ton, he led by example, he made the big plays, and he really willed us to win. Even the Russians took to calling him “the man with the big heart.”