In the first period, Hal Laycoe administered a hard check to Richard, and was given a penalty for charging. In the third period, the Bruins were leading 4 to 1. When defenceman Warren Godfrey was taken out for a penalty in the thirteenth minute, Dick Irvin decided to go for all or nothing. He called Jacques out of the game and sent in six players, hoping to over-power the Boston defence. They were: Harvey, Johnson, Béliveau, Olmstead, Geoffrion, and Maurice Richard. A few seconds later, Johnson was replaced by Jackie Leclair. Irvin still kept Jacques out, even if the face-off was in the Canadiens’ zone. The Habs tore towards the Bruins’ net. Laycoe, seeing that the Rocket was outskating him, slashed him on the head with his stick, laying open a deep cut under his hair.
The Rocket, dizzy and holding his head in his hands, went over to show the evidence to the referee, Frank Udvari, and demanded a major penalty for Laycoe. The referee refused. Richard realized that he was bleeding profusely. Never one to restrain himself in the heat of the action, he grabbed a stick and hit Laycoe on the back, then punched him in the face, opening a wound over his right eye.
The crowd went wild. Doug Harvey and the other Habs tried to hold the Rocket back. A young linesman, Cliff Thompson, grabbed onto the famous number 9 sweater from behind. Meanwhile, Laycoe took up his stick and went for Richard. The enraged Rocket ordered the linesman to let him go, but Thompson held on for dear life. Maurice then lost his temper completely, wrested himself free, and socked Thompson twice. Frank Udvari had no alternative but to order the star right-winger into the dressing room, where club physician Hector Dubois managed to calm him down and give him first-aid treatment. The Bruins won the game 4–2.
Rocket Richard’s punishment was not over yet. Two days later, the League president, Clarence Campbell, called Richard, Dick Irvin, and Kenny Reardon into his office in the Sun Life Building. After a few minutes, as if he wanted to make an example of the Canadiens’ biggest star, he announced that Richard was suspended, not only for the three games remaining in the regular season, but for the playoffs as well! This was a case of flagrant injustice. The radio waves hummed with the news and editorials denounced the suspension as a too-severe punishment, while ordinary Quebeckers grumbled rebelliously. The man in the Street, just as much as the most ardent hockey fan, felt instinctively that he should stand up and defend himself. It was intolerable that the sport’s greatest idol be humiliated in this high-handed manner.
Before the game between the Red Wings and the Canadiens on March 17th, hundreds of fans unable to obtain tickets began a spontaneous protest outside the Montreal Forum.
Inside the building, it was clear that the Canadiens had been shaken by the suspension: they allowed the Wings to take a 4–1 lead in the first period. In the eleventh minute of play, Clarence Campbell arrived with his fiancée and coolly took his place in his regular seat in the stands. The fans took their mounting frustration out on him: he was immediately pelted with all imaginable kinds of projectiles; he was booed and jostled. Campbell held on to his hat and remained seated. But during the break between periods, the fans’ resentment became uncontrollable. A man made his way towards Campbell, extending his arm as if he wanted to shake his hand. At the last moment, the man lunged forward and punched Campbell twice in the face. The League president was obliged to vacate his seat and seek shelter in the Forum’s first-aid room, under a hail of eggs, tomatoes, and water bags. Then, an unidentified person exploded a tear-gas bomb, and all hell broke loose.
The game was cancelled. After only one period of play, the win was conceded to the Red Wings, giving them 2 points in the League standings – 2 important points, as it turned out. At the end of the regular season a few days later, the Wings were at the top of the standings, exactly 2 points ahead of the Canadiens.
The hysterical crowd surged onto St. Catherine Street, bellowing and roaring, shattering store Windows, overturning cars, and setting fire to anything that would burn. March 17, 1955, is etched in the collective memory as the date of the biggest riot in Quebec’s history.
The following day, the mayor of Montreal, Jean Drapeau, made an appeal for calm. Maurice Richard himself spoke on the radio, saying that he had accepted his penalty; he exhorted hockey fans to continue supporting the team, even if he couldn’t be with them in their fight to win the League championship and the Stanley Cup.
This episode revealed to Jacques Plante, the Habs’ rookie goaltender, what Maurice Richard meant to the people of Quebec. He was their prodigal son; he epitomized their wish to be winners and to rise into the ranks of the best. Jacques’ role was not only to mind nets for his dream team: he was also the defender of that symbol of honour and success, the Montreal Canadiens Hockey Club. Only the best could be part of it, and those privileged few had to be totally dedicated to taking it to the top and keeping it there.
A few days later, while tending goal against the New York Rangers, Jacques was initiated to a strange kind of loyalty among sports fans when the crowd booed a goal by Bernie Geoffrion that put him ahead of their idol Richard as top scorer of the season. That summer, Boom Boom was almost ashamed of his achievement. He even received threats by some deluded hockey fans! But, Jacques wondered, when you’re playing for the Canadiens, shouldn’t you always aim for the top? When opportunity strikes, shouldn’t you shoot for a goal? Nonetheless, robbing the Rocket of his cherished record seemed a monstrous act of lèsemajesté.
The season ended on a catastrophic note: at the Detroit Olympia, the Habs were defeated by a shameful score of 6–0.
The undaunted Dick Irvin instituted a new technique in the first game of the semifinal series against the Boston Bruins. Determined that the team would not suffer the same humiliating loss that they had in Detroit, he alternated Jacques Plante and Charlie Hodge in the nets. Defensively, the Canadiens played impeccably, and the tandem of goalies posted a shutout with a 2–0 victory. The win was credited to Jacques, who had been on the ice 75 per cent of game time. Irvin tried this arrangement again in the second game, which the bleu-blanc-rouge won 3–1. Unfortunately, this system of alternating goaltenders, in spite of its novelty, took away from the respective netminders’ concentration. Jacques was happier being the sole goal-keeper of his team for the remainder of the playoffs.
The Canadiens went on to the seventh, sudden-death game of the semifinals and lost to the Red Wings in Detroit. Even without their star right-winger, they had done their best and had performed well. They may have lost at the end, but they would make up for it. The Canadiens would always rise again, because Montreal was not only the centre of the hockey kingdom: it was also the home of the Stanley Cup.
6
A Taste for the Stanley Cup
The dynasty was reborn in 1955–1956: the Canadiens became the League leaders again. A specific group of players, who would reign over their rivals for five consecutive years, constituted the strongest team that had ever been seen in professional hockey, according to respected sports observers. What was their secret? The simple answer was that the team’s cohesiveness, talent, strength, hard work, courage, and audacity combined to make it dominate the National League, sometimes by a ludicrous margin.
Hockey requires a high degree of teamwork. The Habs were exemplary in this all-important aspect, showing it game after game. They were dubbed “the Flying Frenchmen†in the United States. The Montreal Canadiens were synonymous with skating. They never stopped moving on the ice: if they weren’t in control of the puck, they went after the opponents. Once they got the puck, they would immediately attack. Their style thrilled the crowds who were repeatedly treated to an awe-inspiring spectacle. In Montreal, Boston, Chicago, Toronto, New York, or Detroit, the fans were carried by an irresistible current that sent shivers down their spines.
The Canadiens Hockey Club, National League champions and winners of the Stanley Cup
(1957–1958 season).
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bsp; Of course, the Habitants were not all of French Canadian origin, but they did form a compact nucleus whose team spirit, daring but well-prepared tactics, and imaginative playing style provoked their rivals’ admiration and envy. In all the NHL cities, they were the team that drew the biggest crowds. When they played on the road, they were more than just the team to beat: they were a star attraction in themselves. For five years, from autumn 1955 to spring 1960, they out-classed their opponents by winning four League championships, and – above all – five Stanley Cups in a row. In only one of these seasons did they lose more than 20 games: in 1956–1957, they lost 23 out of a total of 70 regular games.
The Canadiens’ publicity agent, Camil DesRoches, would often stop in front of the team pictures taken by the official Forum photographer on the day after the monumental win every spring during these years. He looked proudly at the men who were the subject of his press releases: always the same faces, on which could be seen a desire to take the bleu-blanc-rouge to unprecedented heights. From year to year, a new face might appear and an older player might retire, but the core remained strong and intact.
This was the team that inevitably scored goals with its two offensive lines. The first one consisted of Henri Richard, the “Pocket Rocket,†flanked by his older brother Maurice on the right and Dickie Moore on the left. Opponents who managed to stave off the attack by this first lineup would be confronted by a second trio, with centre Jean Béliveau, right-winger Bernie Geoffrion, and left-winger Bert Olmstead. Both lines consisted of heavy artillery. If the adversary’s offence managed to break into the Habs’ zone, they would be met by Phil Goyette, Claude Provost, or André Pronovost. When the Canadiens were short-handed during penalty time, there was no match for Don Marshall on defence, even though he had played as a forward in the minors. And, depending on the season, there were also Ken Mosdell, Floyd Curry, and Marcel Bonin for the offence, as well as rookies Ralph Backstrom, Ab McDonald, and Bill Hickie.
The team’s defencemen were also exceptionally strong. First and foremost, Doug Harvey, the best defenceman in the League, was paired with Tom Johnson. The second defensive line was made up of partners Bob Turner and Jean-Guy Talbot. Dollard St. Laurent completed this impenetrable brigade, followed by Albert “Junior†Langlois towards the end of that glorious reign.
Minding the net was Jacques Plante, of course – the NHL’s most spectacular goaltender. In his shadow, in case Jacques was injured, was Charlie Hodge as backup goalie.
Camil DesRoches had only good things to say about the Habs. They were a group of men of a superior species – proud competitors, ready to stand up to rough play, but also capable of great finesse on skates. There was no room on the team for dead wood. The coach of les Glorieux was Hector “Toe†Blake, a man who often lost his temper, but one who was fundamentally fair and honest with his players. Since the days when he, Maurice Richard, and Elmer Lach had formed the offensive squad known as “the Punchline,†Toe Blake had always hated to lose. Jacques had an immense respect for Blake, which dated from the years that Toe had coached the Valleyfield Braves. Blake knew what Jacques was capable of: when the tuque-sporting goalie wore the Royals uniform, he had more than once made Blake almost swallow his cigar.
In the autumn of 1955, his first year as Canadiens coach, Toe Blake made some radical changes in the team’s tactics. When the puck went into the opponents’ zone, he told his defencemen to stay near the enemy blueline instead of circling about in the centre zone of the rink. At first, Jacques was ill at ease with this innovation: he felt that there was too much distance between his defencemen and the net. However, it didn’t take him long to get used to it. After all, it wasn’t surprising that the roving goalie approved of bringing the defensive line into offensive play more often.
Besides, the defencemen themselves had had to adapt to Jacques’ own characteristic style. Looking at it logically, they had to admit that he helped them regain control of the puck and move it out of their own zone more quickly. But there were also all the things the goalie said: Jacques was continually talking, commenting on the play, telling his teammates where the puck was headed. When the action heated up, he even used to tell them what they should do. However, they were never offended by it: his shouting helped to orient their game and often saved them wasted manoeuvres.
The rookies of that season, Henri Richard, Jean-Guy Talbot, and Claude Provost, were off to a promising start. Gerry McNeil hoped for a comeback, claiming that his year off had allowed him to recoup his strength and skill, but he was no longer a match for Jacques Plante and he had to settle for playing for the Royals. Charlie Hodge was sent to another Canadiens farm team in Seattle. Jacques’ position with the Habs was now unchallenged, and he justified this confidence in him by achieving two shutouts in the first two games of the season.
Jacques posted seven shutouts that season, winning his first Vézina Trophy with a goals-against average of only 1.86 per game. He was chosen for the First Ali-Star team, together with some of his most notable teammates: centre Jean Béliveau, the season’s top scorer with 47 goals and named most valuable player; right-winger Maurice Richard; and defenceman Doug Harvey, winner of the Norris Trophy.
Even more of a thrill for Jacques was being number 1 goalie of a Stanley Cup-winning team for the first time, when the Canadiens defeated the Rangers in the five-game semifinals and the Red Wings in the five-game final series.
The team was strong and seemed invincible. Toe Blake had devised an unbeatable power play. When the opponents had a man in the penalty box, Blake didn’t waste any time analysing the situation. He would send Jean Béliveau onto centre ice, with Maurice Richard on his right and usually Dickie Moore, or, occasionally, Bert Olmstead on left wing. Both Harvey and Geoffrion could shoot hard and far, striking when the goaltender’s view was screened by other players; if the goalie blocked one of their shots, chances were that a forward would be able to snap up the puck on the rebound and flip it into the net.
During that 1955–1956 season, the Canadiens consistently overwhelmed their opponents whenever they had the numerical advantage, often scoring two or three goals during those two minutes of penalty time. The League’s executives met and decided to correct this imbalance. They wanted closer games.
A new rule came into force the following season. Rule 27(c) of the Official NHL Rules states that “if while a team is short-handed by one or more penalties the opposing team scores a goal, the first of such penalties shall automatically terminate.†It was a way of limiting the damage. But it wasn’t enough to slow down the Canadiens.
The team still had the wind in its sails in 1956–1957. The Habs scored the highest number of regular-season goals in the League, although the individual record that year went to Gordie Howe. The Red Wings had made an impressive comeback and were again threatening the Canadiens. The Wings’ left-wing forward, Ted Lindsay, was second to Howe in the number of goals scored, and the young Detroit goalie, Glenn Hall, who had won the 1954–1955 rookie-of-the-year title, had also had a remarkable season.
Jacques Plante experienced a few health problems that kept him off the ice for most of the month of November. The medical specialists, looking for possible allergies, took a long time to determine the cause of his chronic bronchitis. However, it was the asthma that had afflicted him since childhood – the asthma that had obliged him to tend goals instead of hurtling down the ice and had driven him to knit tuques to protect himself from the cold – that became his principal adversary during these years. When Jacques was too ill to play, his replacement, Gerry McNeil, let in a whopping 32 goals in his last nine games in the National Hockey League.
In that era of hockey history, the Vézina Trophy was awarded to the goalie of the team with the least number of points given up to opponents during the regular season, not to the goaltender with the
lowest individual goals-against average. Jacques’ health problems and Glenn Hall’s brilliance in the net had placed them on an almost equal footing, and a suspenseful competition between them went on up until the play-offs.
Saturday, March 24, 1957.
It was the last game of the regular season. The Canadiens were playing the Chicago Black Hawks, who were already out of the running for a place in the semi-finals. However, at the end of the season, an eliminated team would often give a hard time to a team that was on its way to a more glorious finish.
Since the beginning of the season, 155 goals had been scored against the Habs – two more than those allowed by Glenn Hall and the Red Wings. Jacques would have to achieve a shutout in this game to win the Vézina Trophy. Every goaltender always hopes that he won’t let any pucks get past him, but this game was special. That same night, the Red Wings were playing against the Maple Leafs, a weak, last-place team that year. Jacques had to be invincible. The game in Toronto started at 8:00 p.m., whereas the game at the Montreal Forum was scheduled to begin half an hour later.
When Jacques skated over to his net before the beginning of the game, the scoreboard indicated that the Maple Leafs were leading by 1–0; thus, Jacques and the Canadiens were only one goal away from Glenn Hall’s lead.
The tension mounted as the game went on. Jacques wasn’t the only one in the St. Catherine Street hockey mecca to glance every few minutes at the scoreboard to follow what was happening in Toronto: the other players, as well as the fans, seemed as interested as he was.
Toronto scored again in the middle of the second period. Plante and Hall were now tied. But there was still a lot of time left in the Canadiens’ game – an eternity for the lone soldier holding the fort. Jacques sharpened his concentration. He blocked routine shots with more than usual care. His eyes warily followed his opponents’ every move: he was determined not to be caught unawares by an easy shot.
Jacques Plante Page 5