by Ron MacLean
At the end of the interview, there was a sense that I’d struck a nerve but hadn’t got any real answers.
After the show, Grapes and I sat in the hotel room with our garbage can full of beer, talking and pouring them back. He knew the CBC was after me all the time to ratchet it down and not disrupt their partnership with the league. And he knew that Bettman wanted desperately for me to say that the new NHL, with its tight standings, was wonderful, instead of questioning the salary cap and the new rules.
Grapes said, “You know, Ron, it’s not fair. You are throwing snowballs for the players. Let the NHLPA step up for themselves.”
I told Grapes that if I’d been interviewing Goodenow, I’d be throwing snowballs for Bettman, and that it was my job to bring in the other point of view. I agreed with Thomas Paine, a founding father of the United States, who was always after the monarchy and said that somebody has to speak on behalf of the oppressed.
After a few more, Grapes said, “I bet you if you phoned any player in the league and asked him to come on and confront Bettman, he’d say, ‘No way.’”
I said, “I’m not going to do that, because that would put players in an untenable position.”
Grapes mimicked me. “I’m not doing that, that would put players in a un-tent-able position.” Then he pointed to his beer. “Is this you talking or is it this talking?” And we both laughed.
At the time of the Bettman interview, Vancouver fans were still mad at me because in January that year, I had questions about one of their top scorers, Alex Burrows. Jerred Smithson of the Nashville Predators had a five-minute boarding penalty and a game misconduct for a hit on Burrows on December 8, 2009. Smithson went in with his shoulder, but Burrows ducked, absorbed the hit with his head while going into the boards, and came out of it with a little blood on his lip. Because there was an injury on the play, the referee, Stéphane Auger, assessed a five-minute penalty. But when the league reviewed the tape, they rescinded the game misconduct because they felt Burrows had embellished the injury. I was curious about the league’s decision.
On January 16, Vancouver was set to play Nashville again. Burrows and referee Auger had words before the game. I had no trouble believing Burrows’ claim to the media that Auger had talked to him about the embellished hit and how it made Auger look bad. But after the game, Burrows made two claims: he said that in their pre-game chat Auger told him that he would “get [Burrows] tonight.” I felt that was ridiculous. But there was an interference penalty on a faceoff that Auger called in the third period that was so bad, it was certainly circumstantial evidence. In addition, Auger was shown winking after the call. I believed it was a call of revenge. And the wink, well, that was vintage Auger. However, I didn’t believe Auger would have tipped Burrows about his plan. Then Burrows complained of not being allowed to skate around during the TV timeout. Now, I don’t know which referee—Auger or Dennis LaRue—put a halt to that, but I do know Burrows had a history. In the 2009 Stanley Cup playoffs, he used the TV timeouts to chirp at Chicago’s goaltender, Nikolai Khabibulin, which was a bush-league move. Guys just don’t do that. In fact, the league’s VP of hockey operations, Colin Campbell, had had Burrows on a watch list for some time. (The league had kept these “watch lists” since 2006–07, but there was no paper trail.)
One mea culpa. At this point, I showed the Burrows-embellished Smithson hit and pointed out how Burrows had tried to draw a penalty, but I was cruel in my depiction of how Burrows was acting. I indicated that, from a referee’s perspective, Burrows was thinking, “Has the ref given a major penalty yet? No? I’ll stay down.” I was going off on him as if I were in a referees’ locker room, and it was the wrong thing to do.
I do, however, think it’s fair that I showed a compilation of Burrows’ previous transgressions to make my next point, which was that none of them had resulted in a suspension: a 2008 spear on Pierre-Marc Bouchard of the Minnesota Wild; charging J.P. Dumont of the Nashville Predators; chirping at Aaron Downey of Detroit in a 2009 pre-game warmup; punching Zack Stortini of the Oilers from the bench; and taunting Khabibulin.
Burrows had clearly made his bed. But it raised the question that, if he continued to be let off because he didn’t have a previous record, how would he ever get a record? That was the gist of the segment. And in the 2011 Stanley Cup playoffs, when Burrows bit Patrice Bergeron on the finger, it helped me rest my case. Luckily, he didn’t have a history.
Not everyone was happy with my examination of the subject. I received some letters from B.C. One guy had been very friendly at a speaking event that I’d done a few months earlier. So friendly, in fact, that he asked me to sign his name tag. After the feature on Burrows ran, he FedExed the name tag back to me and told me to stick it where the sun don’t shine.
Naturally, I assumed he was talking about Vancouver.
In the wake of the Burrows/Auger/Ron “affair,” Canucks management flew to Toronto and met with my boss, Scott Moore, the executive director of CBC Sports, to address the issue of fair and balanced reporting. I got my knuckles rapped. I was told I’d injured our brands—my brand and the CBC’s brand.
That was a new one. I said, “Oh, I have a brand injury. What’s the healing on that?”
And now, the day after the Bettman interview, Scott flew into Philly to meet with me. Scott’s background was with TSN and Sportsnet, where he was good at bringing business to the table. Rights agreements were his forte. On Scott’s first day at the CBC, he called a meeting and informed the staff we had to become better partners with our corporate sponsors and the sports leagues. The CBC had been a good journalistic entity, but Scott made it clear he did not think we were supportive enough.
In the old days, the CBC didn’t worry as much about being a good corporate partner. In every news organization, there are always questions about whether to sacrifice content in the name of business and how seriously you should take your responsibilities as a journalist. Ed Whalen was a good influence in helping me find that balance, in the sense that he hosted Stampede Wrestling, which was pure showbiz. Grapes has been a good influence, too. They are similar. Ed understood he was only going to live so long, so what the hell? Make a few extra bucks on the side and give people a few laughs. I sense that outlook in Grapes, too. You have to have a bit of fun at some point. I was a lot more like that twenty years ago. But now, things are more serious. We are talking about career-ending hits. I feel I have to speak up for the players to provide balance. I can’t let that part slip—I don’t know why. Now I find myself being the one guy constantly hitting on the NHL.
Scott and I met at the hotel. He said, “Look, Ron, I have three problems with the interview. Number one, the subject matter was very confusing to most of our viewers. Nobody would have understood what you were talking about, so I consider it a bad interview in that regard. Number two, after you went through the teams and Gary asked you, ‘Why would you bring these things up?’ you said, ‘Well, for the players who are paying escrow.’ Well, Ron, if you want to work for the players’ association, why don’t you get a job with them? Number three, if you continue to badger our partners this way, we are all going to be out of a job in four years.”
The CBC’s competitor, Rogers, was looking at buying the Leafs, which meant the CBC might lose the rights to NHL hockey in four years. Scott seemed to be saying that if we were more supportive of the NHL, they would ignore the money and renew our contract. “When we get back and the playoffs are over, we will redo your contract and you will sign an addendum that will put you in the same position as some of our big-name news people. There is no shame in this.” He was demanding balanced reporting—no opinion, no editorial. I felt I was being asked to give up the ability to think for myself in exchange for a salary. It was ridiculous. It’s hockey. We all have opinions.
I said, “Wow, this is serious. I’m going to call a lawyer and I’ll get back to you.” I was so mad I was vibrating. And I was so wound up, it took me twenty minutes to consider whether I even knew any law
yers that could represent me.
I called Newport Sports, who had acted for me in negotiations, and learned that it’s Contract Law 101 that no one can demand you change the terms of a signed contract. I got some good advice on how to handle the situation. So I called Scott and I said, “Look, I’m willing to discuss the interview, and I’m willing to talk about our approach, but if you’re asking me to let you unilaterally change the terms of our existing contract, the answer is no. If that’s a problem, then you can go to human resources or call Newport Sports.”
At that point, Scott didn’t continue arguing, which allowed me to save face. I respected that because I knew what he was up against. I’m not an easy guy to direct. Bosses will tell other bosses, “When you’re going to deal with Ron, be sure you are well prepared. Have every angle covered because he’ll have a million questions. He’ll fight you on everything you try to tell him to do.”
It’s part of the human contradiction. I say that criticism doesn’t bother me because I learned that, as a referee, you cannot expect not to get yelled at, and in the host’s chair on HNIC I get drilled in the press because it comes with the territory. But I have this bad habit at work—as soon as somebody tries to dial me in, it hits me hard.
Imagine what it’s like to try to deal with a guy like me. A guy who cannot stand the thought of being prideful and yet is so full of pride it hurts.
23
IN THE CROSSHAIRS
Before the CBC hired John Shannon back, NBC hired him to produce the 1993 All-Star Game at the Montreal Forum. A couple of weeks before the broadcast in February, they still didn’t have a rinkside reporter. John suggested me. John Davidson was the colour man and Marv Albert was the host and play-by-play guy. At the very end of the broadcast, with forty seconds to go, we had to get an interview with the MVP of the game, Mike Gartner, who had scored four goals and an assist.
Through my earpiece, John ordered, “Ron, jump over the boards and get the goddamn interview and say good night.” So I got the interview and said good night and made it to time. Marv wrote me a very polite, complimentary letter afterward, which I appreciated.
In June 1997, Shannon had been hired back after an eleven-year absence. He was hard to replace. He had big talent, and his work had merit. I always enjoyed him, and of course he’d given me my start—I owed him a lot. But John was too rough around the edges for the CBC. He, like Don, was old school. They came from a world where you said what was on your mind. They didn’t have to hide behind words.
John could get hot, and when he did, he would tear a strip off a person. Unfortunately, a director from outside the sports department was working with us one night in June during the playoffs, and he objected to the way John handled him during a tense situation. The director complained, and Alan Clark, who was executive director of CBC Sports, suspended John—sent him home for two weeks. I felt very bad about that. John was really dedicated. There are a million producers who are very well organized and can turn out a good cookie-cutter show. John had the quicks to make a live show flow. Unfortunately, part of his quickness included his temper.
Grapes and I get into it during playoffs, too. By the end of the eight weeks of playoff hockey, we are still the best of friends, but we are also very close to being the worst of enemies because we are tired. It comes from working in the crosshairs for a little too long.
I’ve been mad at him many times without being too, too hot. In game three of the 2002 final, near the fifteen-minute mark of the third overtime period, Igor Larionov scored the winning goal to put Detroit up 2–1 in the series. The next day, a day off, we were sitting in the stands, watching practice. Pierre McGuire from TSN came over and started to talk about Larionov’s goal. He asked me, “What happened on that goal, anyway?”
I said, “I don’t know.”
Pierre started to talk about how it looked as if Carolina goalie Arturs Irbe thought that Larionov might pass across to Mathieu Dandenault and that’s why he went down, or something like that.
After Pierre left, Grapes said, “Don’t tell them that you don’t know! You never say we don’t know what’s going on. Geez, you give him the chance to tell us what he thinks happened on the goal. All those guys, they just love that.”
I said, “What are you, nuts? They don’t care. I don’t care and they don’t care. Pierre was just making small talk.”
So the next morning, Grapes and I met up at 9:30 a.m. to go to the morning buffet, and he was still on about it. “Don’t give those other guys the satisfaction of saying you didn’t know, you and me. We’re supposed to know, we’re Hockey Night in Canada. You shouldn’t be talking to them anyways.”
We sat at the table, going back and forth, arguing about whether it was right or wrong to tell Pierre McGuire that I didn’t know what happened on the goal. Finally, we stood up and headed to the buffet, and it was closed. We’d argued all the way through to 11 a.m.
Later, I went back and looked at that play, and I discovered that Luc Robitaille had actually grabbed a Hurricane sweater at the far end of the ice, which prevented the player from getting back and covering, so Larionov was left open to score the goal.
As we got set for the final game of the series, I heard that a pro-CBC story was going to run on Hockey Night in Canada, and I talked to our producer, Paul Graham, about it. He said that head office had asked him to assign Scott Russell to do a voice-over feature about how unfair it was that Réseau des Sports (RDS, the French-language version of TSN, which was owned by CTV) had outbid the CBC for the rights to Montreal Canadiens’ broadcasts. The CBC’s angle was that it should be the network’s inherent right, as the Canadian distributor and the nations’ public broadcaster, to have the rights, because they are a part of francophone history.
I said, “What are you talking about? RDS outbid them. That is their prerogative. It’s the Habs’ right to get the money. This is crazy. What are we? Communists? Whose idea is this?”
Paul said, “This is directly from CBC president Robert Rabinovitch.”
I said, “When we run this in the second intermission, keep me out of it. I’m not introducing it. I’m not tagging it.” I thought it was ridiculous to run such a slanted feature in the middle of the Stanley Cup final.
Grapes came into the studio while I was in the middle of this tirade. He could see me getting more and more worked up. Finally, he said, “Hey, take it easy. You’re wearing down. Save a little for Coach’s Corner.”
My contract had been renewed in 1998 with no hassle whatsoever, but I knew the talks were going to go sideways when my contract came up again later in 2002. I was fed up. The CBC was constantly getting involved in editorial content. If I were going to stay on, I would need to negotiate for respect. So I hired an agent.
Don Meehan is the most powerful and influential hockey agent in the country. He’s a former wide receiver for McGill, where he got his law degree. He moved to Toronto in 1975, and in 1981 started up Newport Sports Management. His first big client was Pat LaFontaine, the hottest junior prospect in the country in 1983. Pat, who played centre for the Verdun Juniors in the Quebec Major Junior Hockey League, had 234 points that year and took home the Jean Béliveau Trophy, beating Mario Lemieux, whose points totalled 184 that year with the Laval Voisins. Meehan convinced LaFontaine that he was prepared to work harder on his behalf than anybody else. Today, Meehan represents 150 players in the National Hockey League.
A bunch of us from work would sometimes go to a bar in Toronto called the Madison Avenue Pub, which started out as this little pub in the basement of a house in the early 1980s. Today, it’s a happening place with bars on several floors.
Meehan lived near the Madison, so I’d see him there and got to know him a bit. And when he’d go to the Leafs games, he’d sometimes join us afterward. These were the years when we broadcast live from the rink. Now, we broadcast our host segments from the CBC building downtown.
In 2001, Meehan invited me and 119 others to a celebration of his fiftieth birthday i
n Ireland and Scotland. He chartered an aircraft and flew us all over there to play golf at St. Andrews and in County Cork. St. Andrews Links is made up of seven golf courses. The most historic and best known is the Old Course, which has been around since the fifteenth century and is where they play the British Open every few years. It’s often called the home of golf. The course is also known for its double greens and the Road Hole bunker at the seventeenth hole, which is so deep you need a forklift to get out of it. Another neat thing about the course is you can play it forwards or backwards.
We also golfed in Ireland at Tralee, Ballybunion and Old Head. The golf courses in Ireland have such lush greenery that even the bushes look like velvet. Arnold Palmer designed Tralee. When he saw it completed, he said, “I may have designed the first nine, but surely God designed the back nine.” You can see the Atlantic from every hole. It was an unbelievable golf excursion.
One of my favourite memories is of the first night, with Bob Gainey, who won five Stanley Cups with the Montreal Canadiens, Bob Clarke, the famous captain of the Philadelphia Flyers in the 1970s and ‘80s and later GM and executive vice-president of the team, and longtime broadcaster and NHL coach Harry Neale, sharing beers and stories at a pub at St. Andrews called Jiggers. We started drinking at noon and went until three in the morning. Gainey and Clarke had selected Canada’s men’s hockey team for the 1998 Winter Olympics in Nagano, Japan, so they had lots of stories about that. But there were 120 of us on that trip, so there were hockey stories galore.
Bobby Clarke never watered his horse. He sat there drinking pints for thirteen hours and didn’t go once. We were all in awe of his huge bladder. The guy was a camel. Dominique, our bartender, said, “I’ve never seen anything like that. We’re going to put a plaque on that stool. The stool Bobby Clarke sat on and never once used the shunky. From now on, it will be his.”