Hockey Towns Page 14

  On March 24, 1977, Brian was playing in Montreal for the first time, and he had a chance to meet Sam Pollock and Jean Béliveau, who told him, “A winner isn’t somebody who wins the Stanley Cup, or plays on a winning team.” And over the years, Brian learned they were one hundred per cent right.

  You Know How to Whistle, Don’t You?

  At the 2005 Juno Awards in Winnipeg, k.d. lang sang Leonard Cohen’s song “Hallelujah.” It was transcendent. Kathryn Dawn Lang attended Red Deer College. It was there that she formed a Patsy Cline tribute band called the Reclines.

  At the same time k.d. was studying Friday Dance Promenades, I was in the church of Saturday night hockey. Red Deer College hockey coach Allan Ferchuk was on the forefront. He was one of the teachers overhauling the game. The narrow escape we had in the 1972 Summit Series gave rise to a lot of introspection. Red Deer College paid for Ferchuk to visit Russia in 1976 so he could learn about their hockey uprising. He discovered the Russians were using the physiology teachings of a Canadian, Lloyd Percival.

  Percival was the director/host of Sports College of the Air on CBC Radio. He later ran the Fitness Institute. When Percival’s The Hockey Handbook, the first how-to book of hockey fundamentals, was published in 1951, most professional Canadian coaches thought it was bunk, but Russian and European coaches used it to guide players to international success.

  The Russians borrowed from soccer to design a power play, creating a series of two-on-ones. They borrowed from basketball to press on the forecheck and from volleyball to bump back on offence. It was a time when educators from Canadian colleges and universities found a voice in the entrenched old school of the professional game.

  That brings me back to Leonard Cohen. When he wrote eighty verses of “Hallelujah,” in 1984, he was at a low point in his career. Just as Wayne Gretzky owns sixty-one NHL records, and will tell you that scoring fifty goals in thirty-nine games, as he did in 1981, is “The Record,” Cohen has said his version of fifty in thirty-nine is the five verses of “Hallelujah” he recorded.

  For me, it’s the third verse that takes me back to Red Deer.

  Baby I’ve been here before.

  I know this room, I’ve walked this floor.

  I used to live alone before I knew you

  I’ve seen your flag on the marble arch,

  but love is not a victory march

  it’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah!

  What does this mean? Well, when I was a boy in Red Deer, I recall how my mom, Lila, was a person you could not put one over on. Mom explained that the fight was fixed. So Lila and Leonard were in agreement—do your best, even if it isn’t much, if you cannot feel, try to touch, tell the truth and don’t come to fool the few. And even if it all goes wrong, you’ll stand before the lord of song with nothing on your tongue but hallelujah.

  When I was a kid and worked the Alberta Junior Hockey League penalty box at the Red Deer Arena, the St. Albert Saints, coached by Mark Messier’s dad, Doug, would come in and play John Chapman’s Red Deer Rustlers. Those games were wars. Lance Roberts was one of two referees that could handle them. The other was Bernie Haley out of Innisfail.

  One night, Lance was officiating a St. Albert game in Taber. It was dangerous that night. The fans in Taber were starting to come down toward the bench when Lance saw Doug Messier step up on his bench. Lance grabbed Doug, saying, “You’re not going anywhere!” Doug didn’t argue—he knew Lance was looking after him. If Doug went into the stands, he’d be suspended.

  I just loved the way Lance refereed. In those days, there were a lot more nineteen-year-old players in the AJHL, so it was a fairly high-level, tough brand of hockey. Because there was no such thing as a game misconduct for fighting, there were a lot of bench-clearing brawls. I remember one fight where Lance gave two players delay-of-game penalties instead of calling them for roughing or fighting, which was kind of a shock. Lance would let the players play, and if they didn’t want to play, then he had the strength to make sure that penalties were called.

  It was all about communication and credibility. The players had confidence in him. I remember a big brawl in Red Deer, under coach Wynne Dempster. There were so many penalties to assess that Lance sent everyone off before the end of the period, but Wynne refused to leave the bench. Lance skated over and told him, “Fine, you stay out and watch the Zamboni because we’re all going to the dressing room.”

  When I reffed I never, ever showed up the players. It they blasted a puck right at me from five feet, I would never snap, “Hey, watch where you’re shooting—have a look!” Instead, I’d apologize for getting hit. That’s what I learned from Lance—to be a “players first” guy. I tried to have that swagger, without ever showing it. Make sure everyone in the house recognizes not the star, but the leader of the event.

  I also loved the way Lance signalled his penalties. He put so much coolness into the game. When he called a high stick his left hand was in the air as though holding a torch, leaving the impression this guy was more a player than an administrator. It’s like the military—you cannot trump the look of the air force pilots. Or, like with patrol cops and their shades, it’s hard to define that look that says, “I welcome the danger here, I’ve seen it all, and I have it under control.” Lance was cooler than the rest. He was my favourite referee by far. In fact, I would later borrow that high-sticking signal.

  When Lance played minor hockey with the Maple Leaf Athletic Club in Rosslyn, which was a suburb in northwest Edmonton, it was tough to get guys to referee. A lot of the games were outdoors, and in Edmonton it averages twenty-four below from December through February. But Lance was looking for a part-time job and a buddy called him to come help ref a game, so Lance thought, “Why not?” One game led to another, and before he knew it, he was officiating AA and rep games all over the city. For the first few years, he never saw indoor ice, but then he was selected to do an all-star game at the old Edmonton Gardens and he couldn’t believe the luxury of it.

  A year or two later, he decided refereeing might be something he could do for a living, so he headed to Banff to attend Dutchy Van Deelan’s referee school. After that, he set his sights on the NHL, but first he’d have to make his way up through the WHL. Lance decided to track down a fellow Edmontonian, Brian Shaw, owner of the Portland Winterhawks. Maybe Brian would hire him? So he drove two thousand miles to Portland, Oregon, walked into the arena and ran into Wayne Myers, a buddy from the Maple Leaf Athletic Club. Lance asked him where Shaw was, and Wayne replied, “He’s in Edmonton. You should give him a call.” It was a long way to go for a phone number.

  Brian told Lance there was an officiating camp that weekend in Calgary, and that’s where Lance caught his first break. He was hired to work the lines in Lethbridge in 1979. It was a three-man system, so he had the ability to call the game on his own. Night after night, he’d talk to the coaches, letting them know what kind of game he was going to call. Communication was everything—the players had to feel safe, but also know that they had freedom to play, because if the players didn’t believe in you, it was a long night. He worked the finals for four years in a row, including the 1986 and 1987 Memorial Cups, and then he got the call.

  His first NHL game was between Hartford and the Red Wings at Joe Louis Arena in Detroit, November 3, 1989. It was also Jimmy Carson’s first game in Detroit. He and Kevin McClelland had been traded from Edmonton for Petr Klíma, Joe Murphy, Adam Graves, Jeff Sharples and the Oilers’ fifth-round draft choice. Lance awarded Carson a penalty shot at 2:09 of the second period after Dave Babych pulled him down on a breakaway. Unfortunately, Lance was so nervous, he forgot to signal, so no one knew what was happening. When he skated over to the box, the linesman, Bob Hodges, asked, “What did you call?”

  Lance said, “I’m calling a penalty shot.”

  Hodges replied, “Well, you’re supposed to point to centre ice.”

  Carson skated down and tried a deke and then a backhand on Mike Liut, but Liut slid to his right and s
topped the puck. There’d been such a big buildup about Carson, a hometown boy, coming to Detroit that you could hear the air leave the Joe Louis Arena after the miss.

  Jim Gregory, who was executive director of hockey operations for the NHL at the time, came down after the game and found Lance. He said, “What’s the signal for a penalty shot?”

  Lance said, “I know it, Mr. Gregory. You point to centre ice.”

  Gregory nodded. “Well, now you’ll be a stronger official from your mistake.”

  Because he was a great communicator, Lance had good control. In 1992 in Quebec, a fan jumped over the boards onto the Buffalo bench and they threw him back on the ice. But when he came back, Rob Ray got hold of him and began furiously punching him.

  Just ahead of that incident, there was a five-on-five brawl going on thanks to a hit by Herb Raglan on Buffalo goaltender Clint Malarchuk. Lance was trying to get the ice under control when he saw the police rushing in to grab the fan, who was being pummelled by Ray, so Lance yelled, “Check out the bench!” And when they saw what was happening, they stopped fighting and skated over to watch.

  But there was a game in March 1998—on Friday the 13th between Anaheim and the Stars at Reunion Arena in Dallas—that nearly got away from him. Anaheim was tied for the bottom spot in the Western Conference, with no chance of making the playoffs. One of their stars, Paul Kariya, was out with a concussion from a cross-check to the head by Gary Suter at a game against Chicago. The Ducks had not only lost eight of their last ten games with Kariya gone, but they were taking a lot of heat because nobody on the team had responded to the Suter hit.

  With about four and a half minutes to go in a 5–1 game over the Ducks, Craig Ludwig, a big Dallas defenceman, met up with the NHL’s top scorer, Teemu Selänne. At the All-Star Game that year, Selänne would become the first European to be named the MVP of the game. Selänne had skated the puck all the way down, beating Ludwig along the boards and into the corner, so Ludwig spun to the middle and charged the boards, leaving his feet as he gave Selänne a big elbow to the head. Selänne went down and Lance called a five-minute major.

  Centreman Steve Rucchin and defenceman Jason Marshall took some swats at Ludwig, but Lance got hold of him and skated him over to the net. Ludwig argued, swearing he saw Selänne peeking up at him and insisting he was faking his injury. Lance told Ludwig that he was underestimating. He had rocked Selänne and Teemu was really hurt. Finally, one of the linesmen grabbed hold of Ludwig on either side of his sweater and skated him over to the box while the other linesman tried to corral Jason Marshall, who was waiting for an opportunity to clean Ludwig’s clock.

  Ducks coach Pierre Pagé was furious. Now his two most talented players might both be out with concussions. One of his tough guys, Dave Karpa, skated to the penalty box and tried to jab Ludwig through a gap in the glass with the butt end of his stick, but Ludwig got hold of it and chucked it up into the stands, which made Karpa even madder. Meanwhile, Dallas right winger Jamie Langenbrunner came over to intervene for Ludwig, so one linesman wrestled Karpa down while another subdued Langenbrunner.

  Selänne finally got up and headed to the dressing room, and Ludwig was being escorted to the Dallas room, so everything seemed under control until a kid named Peter Leboutillier from Minnedosa, Manitoba, jumped up and reached over the boards, trying to get at Ludwig with his stick. Now both benches were up and ready to go, so Lance came over to settle the kid down. He sent Leboutillier off after Jason Marshall, who went down the tunnel just ahead of him.

  As the teams lined up for the faceoff in Dallas’s end, Pagé felt he had to send a message, so he sent out his fourth line. Lance watched Anaheim’s tough guys line up, and he knew it was going to get ugly. Sure enough, the puck was dropped and all five skaters went at it. Warren Rychel was first to drop the gloves, with Craig Muni. Brent Severyn, who had received a lot of heat for only warning Suter after the Kariya hit, went after Sydor and then let him go, but Sydor came back and jumped on his back, so Severyn lost his temper and whacked him hard. Sydor went down and stayed there. To this day, Severyn regrets losing it on a smaller guy.

  The fans were on their feet, joining in with the song playing over the system—the Beastie Boys’ “You Gotta Fight for Your Right to Party.”

  When all was said and done, Dallas’s Darryl Sydor and Craig Muni both got five for fighting, Sean Pronger and Greg Adams were assessed double minors for roughing and Guy Carbonneau got two for roughing. For the Ducks, Rychel got two for instigating, five for fighting and a ten-minute misconduct, Severyn got five for fighting and a ten-minute misconduct, Drew Bannister received five for fighting and Pronger got two for roughing.

  Once that mess was cleaned up, Lance went over to Pierre Pagé and said, “Okay, are we done? We’re done, right?”

  Pagé shrugged and turned away, which was a good sign. Next, Lance approached Dallas coach Ken Hitchcock—they’d known each other for years. Ken had coached midget hockey in Sherwood Park. He said, “Ken, we’re done?”

  Ken said, “We haven’t had our turn yet.”

  Lance said, “Ken, no. Don’t tell me that.”

  “We haven’t had our turn,” Ken repeated.

  Lance shook his head. “Okay.” He skated to his linesmen and said, “Get ready because they’re going to go again.”

  Hitchcock put out Grant Marshall, Jason Botterill and Pat Verbeek. The puck was dropped, and things got started when Botterill went after Steve Rucchin. It turned into another line brawl, and Lance tossed some more guys out. Now Anaheim was left with four skaters on the bench—Tomas Sandström, Matt Cullen, Jeremy Stevenson and Pavel Trnka—and there were maybe three on the bench for Dallas. But there was still three minutes left in the hockey game, so Lance was going to have to make sure there were no other incidents. Anaheim had pulled starting goaltender Mikhail Shtalenkov and put in Tom Askey, who was fresh from Ohio State University. Lance skated over and told him to keep moving the puck and not to freeze it, and then he let everything go and the horn sounded.

  Lance was taught to make sure to look after the good players and not to protect the fighters—they could handle themselves. One night, during a game in L.A., he was watching big Winnipeg left winger Keith Tkachuk. It was Tkachuk’s rookie year, and Lance could see the kid trying to line up Wayne Gretzky, but Gretzky could see him coming down Broadway. Finally, Gretzky dumped the puck in and Tkachuk finished a check on him, hitting hard. Gretzky went down. Tkachuk looked around as if to say, “What happens now?”

  He soon found out. Marty McSorley was on the ice, and he came at Tkachuk like a freight train. When Tkachuk turned around, Marty got him with a single punch right in the face and he dropped like a sack of potatoes.

  Lance skated over and said, “That’ll be two minutes, Marty.”

  Marty said, “I’ll take that,” and skated straight to the box. Lance understood that Marty was just doing his job, delivering the message, “This isn’t going to happen on our ice.” Meanwhile, Tkachuk got up, dabbing at his bleeding lip and looking at Lance. “What about my lip? What about my lip?”

  Lance shook his head. “Hit Gretzky again, Stupid, and then see what happens!” And then he skated closer to Tkachuk and pointed to Marty. “He isn’t going anywhere, so just think about that.”

  There were a few times when players lost it on Lance, but he never feared them. Bob Probert came at him one time—he thought he’d been hooked with no call and so he looked pretty intense. Lance started backing up a little and called Probie for unsportsmanlike conduct. But as soon as he got out of the box, Probie skated over and said, “Sorry, man, I shouldn’t have acted like that.”

  Lance said, “No problem.” He loved Probie.

  Lance worked a lot of playoff games with Bill McCreary. In Lance’s book, McCreary was the best NHL official ever. Lance thought Bill knew the game better than anybody.

  At the last commercial break in 1999 during the playoff series between Pittsburgh and Philadelphia, the score was 6–2 with two minu
tes left in the third period. McCreary skated over to Lance and said, “They’re gonna go. As soon as we drop the puck, they’re definitely gonna go. I just know it.” And, as he predicted, there was a five-on-five, but thanks to Bill’s prescience, they handled it.

  I believe that the coaches set the tone for a team’s behaviour unless a strong referee with good presence and communication wins the players’ respect, in which case they ignore the coach and follow the zebra. Lance is right about Bill McCreary. Bill was more of an influence than anyone in the building.

  Lance spent fourteen years in the NHL and twelve years trying to get there, but in 2001 he was terminated without cause by the league’s new director of officiating, Andy Van Hellemond. That was hard for Lance to digest, but he was picked up by the Swiss league and was chosen to referee the Spengler Cup in Davos, Switzerland. Played around Christmas each year, it’s the oldest hockey tournament in Europe. It was the first time in the Cup’s seventy-five-year history that a Canadian referee officiated the gold medal game with Canada in it, and that’s why today his sweater hangs in the Spengler Cup section of the Hockey Hall of Fame.

  Regina

  SASKATCHEWAN

  POPULATION:

  193,100

  The Life of a Thousand Men

  Regina, the capital of Saskatchewan, is the home of the Pats, the oldest junior team in Canada, named for Queen Victoria’s granddaughter, Princess Patricia of Connaught. Patricia is also honoured by one of our country’s greatest military regiments, Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry.

  A boyhood hero of mine has ties to both—Ed Staniowski. Ed was born in Regina and raised in Moose Jaw, after which he embarked on a brilliant goaltending career with the Regina Pats in the WHL. In 1973, ’74 and ’75 he was named the Pats’ most valuable player. In 1974 he backstopped Regina to the Memorial Cup, and the following year he was named the inaugural winner of the Canadian Major Junior Player of the Year award. He is, to date, the only goalie ever to receive that award.