Jacques Plante

Jacques Plante Page 6

by Raymond Plante

  The final score of the Toronto-Detroit game flashed onto the scoreboard: Detroit had won by a score of 6–3. By allowing three goals, Hall was now trailing Jacques by one point in their race for the Vézina. And there were still nine minutes of play to go in Montreal – nine long minutes left to reduce the Chicago team to a shambles. The crowd murmured expectantly.

  Unfortunately, the clock was positioned right behind Jacques’ net. He couldn’t see how much time remained unless he turned his head around. But how could he take his eyes off the puck, even for a second, if he was to achieve the shutout? Luckily for Jacques that night, a fan, sitting behind and to the left of the net, was aware of the goaltender’s distress. He kept encouraging him, saying, “Eight minutes, Jacques… eight minutes to go. Hang in there!”

  Jacques was sweating profusely. Don’t make a mistake now…don’t do anything wrong…

  “Seven…”

  All his muscles were tensed. If he could have caught the puck, he would have made it disappear.

  “Six minutes…keep it up, Jacques!”

  And Jacques kept it up.

  The siren wailed to indicate the end of the game. The Habs had won, 3–0.

  The fans were on their feet, applauding wildly. They were not acclaiming the win against the Hawks – not a particularly notable feat for the Habs in those days; they were acclaiming Jacques Plante, who had just posted his ninth shutout of the season and had won the Vézina Trophy for the second year in a row.

  Jacques flew over the ice in his excitement. There was no time to thank the good Samaritan who had shared the countdown with him. He didn’t even take the time to acknowledge the fans who, realizing the importance of the situation, had encouraged him throughout the evening. Jacques felt decidedly ill. When he reached the dressing room, he vanished into the bathroom to throw up.

  Pressure – the deadly pressure that can crush a man, isolate him from the people around him. There is always constant pressure on an athlete, especially one of Jacques Plante’s conscientious professionalism, always striving to do better and continually under the scrutiny of very critical sports fans. The fans at the Montreal Forum were demanding: they had seen so many champions play that they expected much more from their team than the fans in other hockey cities did.

  Thus, in spite of his huge success, Jacques’ frequent roving beyond the goal crease was still provoking comment. During Jacques’ debut in the National League, Dick Irvin’s face invariably fell whenever he saw his new goaltender leave the net. Toe Blake, especially in the first two seasons as Canadiens coach, reacted the same way. How many times did Jacques have to justify his technique in the dressing room after a game? It was a good thing that he liked to talk! The sportswriters knew by now that he was a mine of information and they always lent an attentive ear.

  “I prepare my sorties ahead of time,” Jacques said. “When an opponent is chasing a puck that’s coming into our zone, I estimate the players speed against the puck’s speed. I have to calculate it exactly right before I come out of the net, to be sure to get to the puck first and be back in the net before the other team gets control of it again. The blue-line is my guide: if the adversary hasn’t crossed the blue-line yet, I can go out. Otherwise, I stay in the net.”

  Although Toe Blake broke into a cold sweat every time Jacques executed this manoeuvre, he was forced to recognize its effectiveness. He and the other members of the team began to notice that whenever their number 1 goalie was absent, there was a drop in the team’s morale. The Canadiens had gotten used to Jacques helping them out by leaving his net to retrieve the puck and pass it to them: it made the defencemen’s job that much easier.

  Besides, the results spoke for themselves. In two years, Jacques had only been outplayed once in that situation, and, on the positive side, he had relaunched countless attacks for the Habs. Nonetheless, opposition to an individual who defies tradition is a common human trait, and certain fans at the Forum would start to boo whenever Jacques made the tiniest error. In an interview, he stated that he was much too involved in the game to notice them, but in fact, this was not absolutely true. When his wife attended his games, she knew very well that the hooting and booing touched a raw nerve in Jacques. She also noticed that it only came from a specific contingent of spectators – small comfort to a man who wanted his work and his judgment to be appreciated. However, it was all part of the game. A few catcalls wouldn’t stop him from realizing his ambitions by playing in the way he thought best.

  His teammates viewed Jacques as a “different kind of guy.” How many hockey players would sit knitting or reading a biography on the train instead of joining in the everlasting card games? There was only Jean Béliveau with whom Jacques could talk about books from time to time. After a game, when the players went out to a bar, they would draw lots to see who would pay for the first round of beer. Jacques never took part in this game. “I’ll pay for my own beer,” he would declare.

  He was always the first to return to the hotel when the Habs were on the road. He slept a lot. It was one way of controlling his asthma and bronchitis, either of which could creep up on him at any moment. However, it earned him a reputation as a loner and a skinflint.

  But where sports were concerned, Jacques was never stingy with his time. He volunteered for a variety of charitable causes. In the summer, he promoted Little League baseball by acting as umpire for Pee-wee games in the Laval neighbourhood where he lived with his family. Jacques excelled at golf and soccer. He was also an excellent bowler and was often the guest of honour when new lanes were inaugurated. But baseball remained his favourite warm-weather sport.

  During the summer of 1957, for example, he played first base for the St. Laurent team and won the batting title of the Quebec Senior Baseball League, with an average of .425. He knew that he attracted crowds to the games. People were coming to see the Habs’ goaltender in action, but Jacques was there simply because he loved to play.

  There has always been a voluminous amount written about sports. From time immemorial, newspapers have dedicated miles of column space to athletes, their performances – and their opinions. The sports world is the source of hundreds of clichés and gems of journalistic wisdom.

  “It’s hard to reach first place, but it’s even harder to stay there,” is a choice example of the hackneyed phrases that abound in the sports milieu. However, like many of these sayings, it rests on a basis of truth – and it applies to a member of the glorious Canadiens Hockey Club as much as it does to the champion of an obscure bowling league.

  The 1957–1958 hockey season, which ended by the Habs winning their third consecutive Stanley Cup, was strewn with obstacles.

  As the season progressed, Toe Blake watched helplessly as his star players came down with injuries. The Rocket, with an injured Achilles’ tendon, only played 28 of the regular season games. Bernie Geoffrion suffered a perforated intestine during a practice; the last rites were administered before he went into emergency surgery, then, after the operation, the doctors’ opinion was that he would never skate again. Boom Boom overcame the dire prognosis, coming back to play just before the finals; he participated in 42 games, after all, in that unlucky season. Dickie Moore played for the last five weeks of the regular season with his right hand in a cast, which didn’t prevent him from winning the scoring championship that year – an exploit that he repeated the subsequent season.

  All of these unexpected pitfalls gave Toe Blake stomach ulcers, and his star goaltender did nothing to relieve them. Jacques’ asthma was becoming increasingly unmanageable. He was subject to more frequent and more acute attacks that left him weakened. Also, with only a few weeks left in the regular season, he was knocked hard by Vic Staziuk of the Bruins; he suffered a concussion and was off the ice
for three games.

  In spite of these mishaps, the Habs showed exemplary courage and tenacity in 1957–58. They never gave up, and in the spring, they managed to finish on top in the standings, 19 points ahead of the New York Rangers. They defeated Detroit in four consecutive wins in the semifinals, to take on the Bruins in the finals. With a powerful offence, and inspired by the remarkable performance of goal-tender Don Simmons, the Bostonians gave the Habs a series to remember.

  April 20, 1958. The Boston Garden.

  The Habs were leading the Bruins three games to two. Rocket Richard had brought the fans to their feet when he scored the winning goal during overtime in the fifth game. The Canadiens were primed for action. They wanted to end the series that night if they could.

  Jacques Plante in particular fervently hoped that the series would be over after the sixth game: he knew he wouldn’t be able to play a seventh one. For the preceding few days, he had felt like a limp rag. He was ill – with chronic bronchitis, according to the newspapers. As if his profession were not exhausting enough in itself, Jacques’ asthma was sapping all of his reserve energy. In his hotel room, he had trouble falling asleep. He was coughing, barely able to breathe. When he looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, he had the impression that he was looking at a zombie animated by a raging fever. But he was determined to play anyway. Something was pushing him to believe that if he could just drag himself that one step further, he would be able to rest on the far side of the mountain peak. The team was too close to reaching its goal; it had overcome so many problems and worked so hard to get that far. He couldn’t let his teammates down at the critical moment.

  That afternoon, the Canadiens had gone to see The Bridge on the River Kwai, a film extolling bravery and team spirit; Jacques felt that he must follow this example and persevere against all odds.

  The game started. The Canadiens were in control of the puck from the beginning of the first period. Geoffrion scored a goal at 46 seconds, then the Rocket sunk his eleventh goal of the playoffs a minute later. But the Bruins were not intimidated: they clawed their way back in a relentless attack. Jacques had to block 13 shots before the period ended. Sheer adrenaline kept him alert. Miraculously, he kept his team in the game, allowing only one goal by Don McKenney.

  In the second period, the Canadiens increased their lead: Béliveau scored on a spectacular assist by Geoffrion and Harvey, then Boom Boom scored his second goal of the game.

  Between periods, the Habs whistled the theme from The Bridge on the River Kwai…we’ve got to keep up the good work…we’ve got to finish it today. Every time Jacques tried to exhale, the air was trapped in his bronchial tubes. The sound of his hoarse gasps was muffled by the fans’ whistles and shouts.

  In the third period, the Bruins were back on the attack. Norm Johnson scored a goal, then Larry Regan. But Jacques succeeded in putting those goals out of his mind and made a succession of impressive saves, throwing himself onto a rebounding puck, and blocking a hard, fast shot. Every time, it was harder for him to get up again. He was dizzy and struggled to get his wind back. He made a monumental effort to concentrate on the puck. He refused to give in; he was like a battered boxer who stays on his feet by sheer instinct.

  In the last minute of play, with the Canadiens leading by one goal, Don Simmons left his net, and a sixth Bruin attacker skated onto the ice. Jacques fended off the power play with incredible acrobatic skill, until Doug Harvey clinched the Habs’ third consecutive Stanley Cup by shooting into Boston’s empty cage. Jacques Plante collapsed onto the ice. His strength gone, he wept like a baby. He had called up a hidden force from deep within himself.

  Camil DesRoches and physiotherapist Bill Head had to take Jacques under both arms to lead him to the dressing room. Jacques was still gasping for air – but he had held on until the end, and his team had triumphed.

  That year, Jacques was the victim of an injustice: he was chosen for the second rather than the first Ali-Star team by the panel of hockey-circuit reporters. Glenn Hall was voted in for the first-choice lineup for the second year in a row, although his goals-against average was 2.88, compared to Jacques’ 2.11 – besides the fact that Hall’s team had not even made it to the playoffs that season.

  Jacques, like several of his teammates, had lost out precisely because of their team’s superior strength. Since the Canadiens had reaped the juciest plums of the season by winning the Stanley Cup and top points in the standings, the unspoken agreement was that the players of the other, less illustrious teams should be given individual recognition. Thus, during the five years that the Canadiens lopsidedly dominated the NHL, the Hart Trophy for most valuable player was only awarded to a Canadien once, when Jean Béliveau won it in 1955–1956. The following years, the sports-writers and analysts voted three times for Gordie Howe, and once for Andy Bathgate, for the Hart. During this period the rookie-of-the-year title was given to a Montreal player only once – to Ralph Backstrom in 1958–1959 – and none of the Habs were awarded the Lady Byng Trophy for best sportsmanship and gentlemanly conduct combined with high performance in play. Only the Norris Trophy for best defensive player seemed to belong in perpetuity to Doug Harvey, who won it every year from 1955 to 1966, with the exception of 1959, when it went to another Canadiens defenceman, Tom Johnson.

  The awarding of the Vézina Trophy for best goal-tender, on the other hand, was based on statistics rather than on a vote by a panel of sportswriters. The following season (1958–1959), Jacques won the Vézina for the fourth time, and was finally chosen to play on the first All-Star team. That year, the Canadiens won both the League championship and the Stanley Cup – for the fourth consecutive time.

  In New York City on November 1, 1959, after a facial injury,

  Jacques Plante wears a mask for the first time in a regular game.

  7

  The Phantom Puck-Stopper

  November 1, 1959.

  The noisy fans who crowded into Madison Square Garden in New York City didn’t realize that they were attending a historic game. They were there because they loved sports, because New York was the show capital of North America, and hockey, being the fastest and most suspenseful sport around, gave them great entertainment value. They flocked to the Garden in droves, even though they knew that their home team was not on a par with the Montreal Canadiens.

  The Rangers were in fifth place in the NHL standings, barely ahead of the Black Hawks, with whom they disputed the honour of being the most lacklustre team in the NHL that season. There was only one Ranger who qualified as a star: the remarkably talented Andy Bathgate, who had finished the last two seasons as one of the five top scorers in the League. His 1958–1959 goal count had been 30. But the Rangers didn’t have much hope of defeating the Habs that evening, especially as the bleu-blanc-rouge was on a seven-game winning streak.

  Three minutes into the game, the kind of incident that marks a turning point in a goalkeeper’s life occurred in the midst of a scramble for the puck in front of the Canadiens net. Bent almost double, Jacques vainly tried to spot the puck. Andy Bathgate was waiting for a pass, five metres away from the net. When he did have the opportunity to shoot, he slammed a powerful backhand shot right into Jacques’ face.

  Jacques immediately collapsed onto the ice, bleeding heavily. The puck had hit him on the left side of his face, alongside his nose. In an instant, the team physician, Hector Dubois, arrived to help. Jacques gradually carne to his senses and rose to his feet. Supported by Maurice Richard and Dickie Moore, he made his way off the ice. Holding a towel to his face, he walked to the first-aid room. He was given seven stitches to sew up the cut that ran down to his upper lip.

  In those days, every hockey team had only one goaltender in uniform, and was given twenty minutes to get their netminder back into shape to continue the game. Clearly worried, Toe Blake carne to talk to Jacques as he lay on the
medicai room table. When Jacques saw him, he immediately said, “I want to play with my mask on.”

  Blake grimaced; however, he rarely lost his cool without a good reason. “Well see, well see,” he murmured.

  With his long experience in competitive sports, Blake decided to use the full twenty minutes that was allotted to Jacques to determine whether he could recover sufficiently to go back on the ice.

  In the corridor outside, Blake saw the Rangers’ general manager, Murray “Muzz” Patrick, and asked, “Do you have a backup goaltender available?”

  “We have two,” answered Patrick. “There’s Arnie Knox. He’s thirty-three years old. He used to play in the city league and he practises with us sometimes. He works as an usher here. Do you want to see him?”

  Blake shook his head. “And the other one?”

  Muzz Patrick grinned. “A junior, Joe Shaeffer, but he hasn’t been on skates yet this season.”

  Toe Blake tilted back his trademark fedora and scratched his head. He wanted more time to think. He didn’t need anyone to draw a picture for him: with an amateur in the nets, that would be the end of the Habs’ beautiful streak. He hated the thought of handing the opponents a win without a fight.

  Jacques opened his swollen lips with difficulty and said tersely: “I won’t go back into the game without the mask.”

 

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