Jacques Plante

Jacques Plante Page 4

by Raymond Plante

  THE HIDDEN TALENTS

  OF JACQUES “TUQUE” PLANTE

  The brilliant Royals goaltender is a past master of the art of…knitting and embroidery.

  “Colour” is one of the important attributes of anyone who wants to carve out a career in professional sports. I give you the examples of Maurice Richard, Bernard Geoffrion, Johnny Greco, and Sam Jethoe, who all possess a remarkable degree of that special something that electrifies crowds and brings them to games in droves. I think that Jacques Plante, the acrobatic goaltender of the Senior League Royals, is a naturally “colourful” athlete in action and one who manages to stay colourful even after the game is over!…

  He spends all his leisure time drawing, and – keep your hats on – knitting and doing embroidery.…

  You’ve got to see Plante in the train car that carries the Royals, dexterously picking up a stitch while his teammates play Hearts.…

  By the way, he knits all of his famous tuques himself. We asked him if he had decided to imitate Georges Vézina’s well-known mania. “Not at all,” he told us. “Maman used to make me wear them when I played for the Collège St. Maurice on the outdoor rink in Shawinigan.”

  Jacques Plante is the kind of young athlete who wants to try everything and who succeeds in everything he does.

  Besides these eminently original touches, Jacques was fully convinced that he would eventually move up to play for the Habs. He was even more certain of it when Bill Durnan, the amazing ambidextrous goalie, suddenly announced his retirement at the end of the 1949–1950 hockey season. Durnan was replaced by Gerry McNeil.

  January, 1953.

  Back in Frank Selke’s office, Jacques knew that the club was counting on him. At the end of October, Dick Irvin had brought Jacques up to replace Gerry McNeil, who had fractured his jaw. He tended the Canadiens’ nets for three games – three games that were marked by two heavily publicized episodes.

  First, Maurice Richard had unsuccessfully attempted to score the two goals remaining for him to surpass Nels Stewart’s all-time NHL record of 324 career goals. However, for Jacques, these games were memorable for another event: the unforgettable Battle of the Tuque.

  The sports world is heavily imbued with all sorts of superstitions. When a team wins a string of consecutive victories, some coaches don’t want the players to change their uniforms so as not to break the lucky streak. Somewhat in the same spirit, Jacques believed his success was partly due to the good luck charm that had always accompanied him in his career: his woollen tuque. Dick Irvin, however, did not want any of his players to stand out by any addition to their regular uniforms. “There’s a National League rule that forbids the wearing of tuques during games,” Irvin told Jacques. In fact, the cunning Silver Eagle had just invented this regulation.

  Jacques was ready with a quick reply: “Aurèle Joliat always played with his cap on. He would never have played a game without it.”

  But the coach had another argument: “I’m sure that if Jacques Plante lost his tuque at a crucial moment, he’d stoop to pick it up and forget about the puck. I wouldn’t want that kind of thing to happen.”

  The reporters were delighted. Again, Jacques was giving them good material for a story. They were already comparing him to Georges Vézina in their articles.

  Irvin hadn’t given up. We will never know whether he himself or one of his assistants was the culprit, but sure enough, right before Jacques’ first game tending the Habs’ net, all three of his tuques vanished from the Royals’ dressing room. He was obliged to play for the Canadiens without his security blanket – three games, three victories, with only four goals scored against him.

  Although columnist Jean Séguin wrote “Jacques Plante without his tuque is like a hot-dog without mustard,” the young goaltender was forced to acknowledge that he could play just as well without his famous headgear as with it. He even told Maurice Richard that if the Rocket scored his 325th goal, he would be happy to give him his favourite tuque as a prize. In the end, even without the tuque, Jacques demonstrated that he was of NHL calibre.

  When Frank Selke called him into his office at the beginning of 1953, Jacques knew that the manager had something important to say. “Jacques, we’re more than satisfied by your performance with the Royals. I have to admit it: you were instrumental in the team’s success.”

  Jacques was all ears. He sensed that he was about to enter another phase of his career and come a step closer to achieving his dream. Selke continued: “Now I have others plans for you. You’re well-known in Quebec now, and very, very popular, as we are fully aware. But it would be good for you to go a step further. The Americans don’t know you yet; you’ve got to show them what you can do. They’ll appreciate your talent in the States; I’m convinced they’re going to love your style. Then, when you do start in the NHL, the players are going to be more intimidated by the exploits of a Jacques Plante whom they’ve heard of, rather than a Jacques Plante who is just a rookie from the Quebec Senior League.”

  This time, Jacques did not hesitate – it was a chance to add another plume to his hat and to gain more experience. He signed on the bottom line of the new contract, and, accompanied by his wife and their little boy, Michel, he set off to play for the Canadiens’ U.S. farm-club team in Buffalo.

  Fred Hunt, general manager of the Buffalo Bisons, and the player-coach, Frank Eddolls, were all smiles. Their team, after starting the season off slowly, had suddenly taken off. The two men began to believe in magic and hoped they weren’t in for a rude awakening. Since the arrival of their new goaltender, Buffalo hadn’t lost a single game!

  Hunt picked up the telephone. He had a report to make to Kenny Reardon, the Canadiens’ recruiting manager. “You know, Ken, Plante’s only minded the nets for four games, and everyone in the league’s talking about him. He’s the biggest attraction since the good old days of Terry Sawchuk.”

  “We knew he was good,” Reardon conceded.

  “Good? That’s not the word for it! He’s miraculous!”

  Deep inside, Fred Hunt wondered if he should be talking about Jacques so enthusiastically. What if the Canadiens decided to call him up right away? Fortunately for the Bisons, Gerry McNeil was having an extraordinary season in the Habs’ net. The Canadiens had nothing to worry about as far as goal-minding was concerned – and even if a problem did arise, there was little Charlie Hodge, who was making a name for himself in the minors.

  “With a bit of luck,” continued Hunt, “Plante would have had four shutouts. When he was outplayed in Cleveland, in the middle of the first period of his first game in the League, it was Frank Eddolls who got the puck into the net. And last Sunday, he stopped Jackie Gordon’s shot, but a teammate, Kobbussen, scored when he was trying to get the puck out of the home zone.”

  All told, Jacques had kept the puck out of the net for 217 minutes and 54 seconds between those two goals. The reporters cove ring the American League games knew how to spell his name by now.

  “But that isn’t all,” added Hunt. “Last Sunday, there were nine thousand people at the game. Next week, when we play against the Pittsburgh Hornets, we’re expecting an even bigger crowd.”

  Frank Eddolls was equally optimistic. With Jacques Plante in front of the net, he nurtured hopes of the Bisons reaching the finals.

  After a few games, Jacques became the reporters’ darling. They gave him the nickname that would stick throughout his career: Jake the Snake.

  Chicago, April 4, 1953.

  In the second period, Maurice Richard skated around the net to shoot against Al Rollins. The goaltender made the save, but the puck ricocheted off defenceman Gus Morton’s
leg and went into the net. A lucky goal, of course, but when you’re a top scorer, luck is often on your side.

  Three minutes before the end of the period, Ken Mosdell scored the third Habs’ goal on passes by Lorne Davis and Calum MacKay. Jacques Plante, showing incredible cool-headedness, blocked all twenty shots by the Hawks. Thanks to him, his coach’s prediction carne true: the Canadiens won 3–0. Jacques had risen to the occasion. Dick Irvin Senior had taken a risk and it had paid off.

  The cunning old fax realized that every time he sent Jacques Plante into a game, his team was victorious. Two days later, Irvin sent him into the mélée again. The result was a 4–1 win for the bleu-blanc-rouge.

  At the end of the game, the heroes of his dreams surrounded the young goaltender to congratulate him. Chicago was eliminated. Jacques had just carried off his first exploit in the NHL.

  He minded the nets during the first two games of the finals against the Boston Bruins, a 4–2 victory and a loss by the same count. Gerry McNeil reclaimed his place far the following games, and the Canadiens won the Stanley Cup.

  It was the first time that Jacques Plante’s name was engraved on the famous trophy, the emblem of world supremacy on ice; it would not be the last.

  Everyone knew that Jacques had been instrumental in these wins. His style was original. He went outside his goal crease whenever he felt like it, as if he wanted to frighten the fans and his coach. But it was obvious that he would be the Canadiens’ next number 1 goalie – it was just a question of time.

  Jacques, who was referred to in the American League as “the saviour of the Canadiens in 1953,” remained in that league for almost another whole season. He was finally called up to join the Canadiens on February 12, 1954.

  To meet the ultimate challenge and to mount the podium, it only remained for Jacques Plante to show that he was the best. That season, he tended goal in 17 games, maintaining a goals-against average of 1.59 per game.

  Frank Selke called him into his office, and told him bluntly, “Jacques, you’ve got the job.”

  “Cercueil, I’m so happy!” was Jacques’ ecstatic reply.

  He had definitely not obtained the position under any false pretences, and he would give his employers more than their money’s worth. His period of glory was just beginning.

  Second Period

  A Masked Knight

  in the Kingdom of Hockey

  Maurice “the Rocket” Richard,

  the Canadiens’ phenomenal star forward from 1942 to 1961.

  5

  The Rocket’s World

  By the end of the 1953–1954 hockey season, Jacques Plante had worked his way up, step by step, into the National League, by dint of his ability, his tenacity, his intelligence, and above all, his strong sense of perfectionism – all necessary qualities for those who want to achieve success in professional sports, especially those who aim for stardom in their respective fields. Jacques stood out sharply from other rookie goalies by his frequent sorties beyond the goal crease and by his way of analysing and reacting to all the aspects of play during a game. Now that the objective he had sought for so long was in his grasp, he knew that he must be careful to keep luck on his side.

  Aware and alert as he was, Jacques knew all too well where his major weakness lay: in his left hand. When he fell off a ladder and fractured his wrist when he was five years old, the bones did not set properly. This meant that he could never swivel his hand completely outward to catch high shots. He compensated for this by using the rest of his body: he would quickly lift his leg to wedge the puck between his thigh and his arm. However, he realized that in the NHL, nothing was as easy as in the minors. The best forwards were astute at studying their opponents’ playing styles, detecting weak points to take advantage of. Also, the shots were so much faster that Jacques was afraid he might not have the same blocking ability that he had shown in the minors. For these reasons, he decided to undergo corrective surgery to his wrist in the spring of 1954.

  On the day of the operation, Jacques’ curiosity – the same curiosity that had led him to invent hundreds of tricks of the trade in a domain where there were no qualified teachers – played a nasty trick on him. He felt uneasy in the operating room: he didn’t like the idea of the surgeon being free to play around with his hand, particularly when his entire future depended on it. He asked to have a local instead of a general anesthetic so that he could see what the doctor was doing. It seemed that Jacques Plante had nerves of steel!

  However, as soon as he saw the surgeon cut into his flesh, he began to feel dizzy. After a few moments, his eyes rolled upward and he turned his face away. In the end, he had to undergo a total anesthetic for the rest of the procedure. Despite the large number of injuries that he sustained during his career, Jacques could never bear the sight of blood. It frightened him, and that day, he learned that it was impossible to completely eliminate his fear. But he also discovered the importance of managing fear and turning it into an ally.

  Jacques was a sensitive man. He was a persevering athlete and could be very hard on himself, but he also had a vulnerable side. His strength lay in the fact that he always rose to a challenge as a means of overcoming pressure. It was the only way to scale the heights defined by his ambition, and he knew it. His emotional nature occasionally led him into difficulty, but it was in this very vulnerability that he found the strength to fight on.

  Montreal has always been the flashpoint of emotions in the hockey world. As soon as the weather starts to get chilly, all talk turns to the coming season. The eyes of every fan in the province are trained expectantly on their idols, nicknamed les Glorieux. Their heroes’ exploits make the harsh Canadian winter tolerable – even desirable. Fans in the cities and in small towns lost in ice and snow join in a common bond, criticizing the Canadiens’ defeats and noisily applauding their victories. Ordinary people like to express their opinions on developments in hockey more than on any other aspect of life. Naturally, they want their team to win. They want the winter to be red, white, and blue, and the sun to bounce its rays off the Stanley Cup in the springtime.

  The Canadiens’ management was obliged to pick the most talented players; they couldn’t afford to make a mistake. The slightest error in judgment always resulted in screaming headlines in the sports pages the next morning. In this demanding context, Jacques was enormously relieved when it became clear that his operation had been an unqualified success. From then on, he could catch pucks in his left glove as well as any other goalie in the League – an essential requirement, since there were only six goaltending positions in the NHL, and only one for the Habs.

  The hockey goalkeeper is constantly under enormous pressure. Ultimately, he is a lone figure amongst his teammates – the most solitary among the stalwarts. Besides the fear of being outplayed and the fear of injury, he also has to contend with the fear of letting his teammates down, of destroying team morale if he lets in an easy shot or fails to make a crucial save – more often than not, the save that would make up for someone else’s error. He knows that the fans’ eyes are focused mainly on the goaltender. He is the one who is at the greatest risk of losing his position on the team. This was more true in the 1950s than in any other era of hockey. The net custodian would only leave his post for one of two reasons: if he was injured, or if the coach wasn’t satisfied with his showing.

  The Canadiens of 1954–1955, as everyone knew, could tap into a rich fount of netminding talent. If Jacques Plante was to prove that he was a worthy successor to Bill Durnan by taking Gerry McNeil’s place, he only had 52 matches to do it in.

  Thus, in spite of the indisputable exploits that Jacques had accomplished since replacing McNeil, Dick Irvin did not hesitate to remind him that the club had other talented pretenders waiting in the wings. For a few games, Jacques had to move o
ver for little Charlie Hodge, who was also anxious to prove himself. Irvin’s tactic appeared to be a kind of cattle prod, as if he wanted to stimulate Jacques in this manner. Jacques had to steel himself to hold on, continue to improve, stay cool, and show his mettle in every game.

  It wasn’t easy wearing a Canadiens uniform, but for Jacques, it was the price of a dream come true.

  The most memorable event in Jacques Plante’s first complete season with the Habs occurred on March 17, 1955, when a riot at the Montreal Forum shook an entire society. The riot not only upset the hockey world and the Canadiens, it also affected the political consciousness of the whole province of Quebec.

  The spark that set off this chain of events occurred on Sunday, March 13, in Boston. The game pitting the Habs against the Bruins was important. The playoffs were fast approaching; with only four regular games left, the Canadiens had to work hard if they wanted to edge past the Detroit Red Wings, who led by four points in the NHL standings. Jacques was in the nets. Rocket Richard, who had scored his 400th career goal a little earlier in the season, was going all out to achieve an objective that he had always strived for: winning the scoring title of the National League regular season. Although he was the highest all-time point-getter in the League’s history and held a slew of individual records, he hadn’t yet achieved that particular one. The Rocket was leading teammates Bernard Geoffrion and Jean Béliveau by two and three points respectively in the standings for top scorer.

  The game was getting rough. Because the rink of the Boston Garden was smaller than those of other hockey cities, there was a tendency toward more forceful bodychecks and more frequent skirmishes on the ice. In those days, a game in Boston often ended up looking like trench warfare.

 

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