Grant Fuhr

by Grant Fuhr

  I enjoyed coaching. It’s also frustrating, because you don’t control what happens once they take the ice. You can only guide them to a certain point. Then it’s out of your hands. Having played at an elite level, your instincts are maybe not their instincts. You can see it, but they may not see it that way. You’ll find that a little bit frustrating.

  But I was lucky enough to have good kids to work with. The first years I was there I had Brian Boucher, David Aebischer and Mikael Tellqvist. We tried to do it by committee. They all were great No. 2 goalies, but nobody had been a No. 1 before. Then Curtis Joseph came in—a real pro—but we didn’t get much better. In 2007 we brought in Ilya Bryzgalov. He’d won the Stanley Cup in Anaheim, but they had signed J.S. Giguere to a long deal. So there was no more room for [Ilya] with the Ducks, and we were able to get him on waivers. Brizzy was a different individual. He’s the most talented goalie you’ll ever see. If he really wants to, he can be as good as any in the game. He’s got all the skills, all the talent. Just sometimes the focus was blurred a little bit.

  Grant’s work with the young goalies in San Antonio, Texas (the AHL affiliate at the time), impressed those around the Coyotes. Laurence Gilman, who was responsible for the Coyotes’ farm system till 2007, marvelled at Grant’s common touch. “Here was a guy who was a legend, larger-than-life for some of the young goalies we had in the system,” Gilman recalls. “He could have made himself remote and unapproachable. But he had such a common, unassuming attitude with the young guys. Despite all his accomplishments, he treated them as if he were just another ordinary guy. That always impressed me: just how down-to-earth he was, always looking to help.”

  Phoenix was also an opportunity to again catch up with Wayne Gretzky as the Great One launched his coaching career. Although he had no experience as a head coach, he took over from Rick Bowness in an attempt to jump-start a winning tradition in the desert and—if that failed—at least draw the curious to the rink to see him behind the bench.

  Grant:

  It was fun to watch Gretz coach. Ultra competitive. You’re sitting in the coach’s room, you get to hear some of his theories on playing. His dad, Walter, had been ahead of his time in how he’d coached Wayne, and I think Wayne wanted to put the same sort of practices to work for himself. I think he got a little frustrated sometimes, because things that he saw that were simple and understood, some of the guys had a hard time picking up.

  In exhibition games you’d see a lot of the kids looking behind the bench while a game’s going on. They couldn’t help it. You get to see the greatest player in the game, he’s standing up behind you, and you’re looking to see what he’s doing. If you’re 18, 19 years old, it’s just an instinct. If I was an 18-year-old kid sitting there, I’d be looking back to see what’s going on.

  It was hard on Gretz. Unfortunately, we didn’t have the success that we should have had. We had some teams that were good teams, but they just ran out of steam because we were too young. Usually about mid-February, late March, we would lose eight or nine games in a row, and all of a sudden you’re out the playoffs. You could have three-quarters of a good year, then that last quarter would bite you. We had that happen about three years in a row, where we’d have a little stretch of two or three weeks where we wouldn’t play well. Unfortunately, in the Western Conference you can’t have two or three weeks where you don’t play well. And it didn’t help the fans coming, either: everybody wants to see a winner, and if you’re not winning in Phoenix there’s other things [for the fans] to see and do.

  As the club’s failures accumulated, critics began to suggest that perhaps the tolerance level for the mistakes of young players was not as high as it should have been. On the other hand, Gretzky and Fuhr were trying to teach accountability on the ice. Given the numerous other distractions, especially the club’s precarious financial situation, they tried to control the thing they could control—the team’s play.

  Grant:

  Especially toward the end, who knew when the next cheque was coming? You could get sidetracked by that. We tried not to worry about that as coaches. That’s the business side of hockey. As a player or coach, that’s not really your biggest concern. Your biggest concern is trying to be successful on the ice.

  I’m sure it bothered some of the players, but we just tried to instill in them that all of that stuff is out of your hands anyway. It’s easy to cloud your head with six thousand different things, but if you’ve got one task that you actually control, it’s a lot easier to control one task. That was something I could always do, concentrate on one thing at a time.

  Making it even harder to keep young players’ minds on the task at hand, Grant believed, was the evolving contract climate produced by new collective bargaining agreements in 1995 and 2005. Salaries touched the $10-million-a-year mark. Players as young as their early 20s were suddenly making five or six million dollars a year on five- or six-year guaranteed contracts. One good year could make you rich for life, and because of that, winning itself was not always the priority: numbers were. Suddenly, players didn’t always want a role that might guarantee wins for the team but wouldn’t guarantee them the individual numbers they coveted.

  In the end, the Coyotes made the playoffs only once in the years Grant and Gretz were reunited in Phoenix, and failures on the ice produced big losses at the box office. Before the NHL finally took over in 2009, chaos reigned in the front office. In May of 2007, Mike Barnett and his management team of Cliff Fletcher and Laurence Gilman were fired, and Don Maloney was hired to run the team. The new management wanted a different voice for the goalies, so Grant was made director of goalie development with Sean Burke taking over as goalie coach. Grant remained in the position for a year before deciding he liked the hands-on experience better.

  Grant:

  I went back to Edmonton for a year and coached minor hockey—which I truly enjoyed. Some of the parents were a little off the wall, but the teaching was enjoyable. I think there’s a real need for coaching goalies at the grassroots level in Canada: over the years, goalies have always been overlooked. It’s an important position where, for the longest time, everybody seemed to assume that Canadian goalies were good—and for the longest time they were. Now, everybody else has developed their goalies more, especially Europe in recent years. American goalies seem to be the hot item right now.

  Over the last few years the Canadians have basically said, “He’s our guy,” without having played games or exhibitions or anything. I think it takes the competitive fire out of it. I’d rather see a camp where you go in and nobody knows whether they’re going to be the guy or not. They’re in it to play.

  After a year in Edmonton, golf came hunting for Grant. The Canadian owners of Desert Dunes in Palm Springs, California, were looking for a name to attract the snowbirds to their Robert Trent Jones layout. And Grant was looking for an entree into the golf business. In 2013, he was hired as director of golf at the club.

  Grant:

  Since I’ve retired, I think I’ve only spent maybe two years out of the eight away from the NHL. One of the years I spent out of the game, I coached minor hockey in Edmonton. So I’ve never really been away, away. But I also wanted to play some serious golf, and now I get the opportunity to work at Desert Dunes and learn some new things about running a golf course.

  We’re now learning the golf business from scratch. I find it interesting; at the same time it’s occasionally overwhelming. The guys I work with here, they go to school for turf care or pro shop management—they’ve studied for it. I’ve gotten to know some really good people here at Desert Dunes. Our superintendent is fabulous, and I’ve gotten to know some of the other superintendents. I got to know some of the directors of golf here in Palm Springs. I know a bunch of the tour pros, and I know people in the different equipment companies. Myself, I just go by what would I like in a golf club.

  While he may be new to the business of golf, Grant has long been teeing it up with top players such as Phil Mickelson, and fellow
Canadian Mike Weir.

  Grant:

  Phil was fun to play with, just to see what he could do with the golf ball. You realize he’s good from watching on TV and everything, but then you get to see it first-hand and it’s so good. So much fun to watch. Mike Weir. He turned out pretty good, didn’t he? Won a Masters and such. I met him when he played the Canadian Tour. Even when they’re not grinding or competing, you see how good they are.

  Grant also played the celebrity golf circuit for retired athletes. He tied for third in both the 2007 and 2008 American Century Celebrity Golf championships, including five top-six finishes in the past nine years. As a result, he now counts dozens of actors, former athletes and celebrities as friends. On any given day he might be teeing it up with actor Bill Murray, NFL legends Jim McMahon, Marshall Faulk, Emmitt Smith and Tony Romo or NBA Hall of Famer Charles Barkley.

  Grant:

  I was with Mac [McMahon] and Charles [Barkley] for New Year’s. Charles has a party every year, so I go over to see Charles. He is awesome. Really good person. I’m a better golfer than Charles; I know that. But he’s a lot of fun to be around. The actor Jack Wagner and I played a bunch when I was in L.A. It was me, him and Danny Quinn, who played for Pittsburgh and L.A. in the NHL. We played a lot of golf together. Who else did I play with? Brian Baumgartner, from The Office. He’s a lot of fun. Had a good time playing with him. We have become good friends.

  No mystery there. By the time the Hall of Fame called, it was safe to say everyone was friends with Grant Fuhr.

  EXTRO

  OCTOBER 9, 2003

  EDMONTON 5 SAN JOSE 2

  The lights may be down at Edmonton’s Skyreach Centre on the night of October 10, 2003, but everyone is home. The Oilers are opening their season against the San Jose Sharks, but that’s only one part of the celebration for the fans turning out on this autumn evening. The city of Edmonton has come to honour the guy from Spruce Grove who, with his brilliant goaltending, helped turn their team into a five-time champion, perhaps the final NHL dynasty before salary caps ruined the concept.

  At the entrance to the ice, an enormous cloud of dry ice vapour is whipped up, and lights catch what looks to be the shape of a goalie. The crowd goes wild. Suddenly a spotlight switches to the far end of the rink. There is a familiar shape standing in the blue paint of the Oilers goal. Longtime Edmonton fans recognize the goaltender’s equipment of a bygone era, the iconic white Edmonton Oilers jersey from the glory years of 1980–1990, the mask with its orange and blue stripes. The mysterious figure’s nervous shifting from one skate to the other is another flashback to the days when this team’s goalie was the NHL’s supreme closer. The crowd pours out its heart to the agile man between the pipes.

  Grant:

  You’re there in the dark, and you can hear the noise of the crowd, and you know what’s going to happen because they’ve scripted it for weeks. You’re prepared for it. I’d seen Gretz’s ceremony, I’d seen Mess’s retirement ceremony … You get the gist as to what was going on. You’ve seen it in rehearsal. Looks very easy: go there, stand there, move here … Until you step out—and then you actually see it. They forgot to mention it’s a lot of people. It’s a lot easier to be a spectator.

  Grant Fuhr was always unconventional. Consider his acrobatic style, throwing himself recklessly across the crease; his “unique” approach to conditioning; his role as a pioneer in a sport long considered hostile to visible minorities; his documented personal issues while winning the Stanley Cup and Canada Cup at the peak of his career in the 1980s; his undying devotion to golf, a sport that, for most hockey fans, is just code for elimination from the playoffs.

  So when the time came for the Oilers to honour him on the eve of his inclusion in the Hockey Hall of Fame, there would be no uncomfortable suit and tie at centre ice, no walking out nervously on the red carpet. There would be Grant, in his Oiler jersey once more, wearing his NHL equipment for the first time since his retirement and skating on the Northlands ice one last time for the fans. Let them see him as he was.

  The PA booms: “Ladies and gentlemen, hockey fans, wearing his familiar No. 31, Grant Fuhr!” And with that, a spotlight finds Grant in his “office.” The mask comes off to reveal the guest of honour, looking slightly taken aback by the fuss. Even today, seeing the black face behind the mask is a reminder of how far he has brought the sport in its acceptance of visible minorities. As the cheers wash down to ice level, Grant skates slowly through the dark, the wrap-around signage blaring “Grant Welcome Home.” There is a wall of noise for the man who left Edmonton at his peak, but not of his own volition. For a time there was a distance between the player and the team as Grant suited up in five other NHL uniforms. But now he is home and getting the love of the people once more. He is the point of light in the darkened arena.

  As he glides beside the boards, the familiar faces from Spruce Grove, from Edmonton and from his hockey life appear in the stands. While his parents, Bob and Betty, cannot be here (except in Grant’s heart), his children and cousins and uncles and aunts dot the sellout crowd.

  Grant:

  Even in the dark I could see them from where I was. The lights are out, but you can actually see them. You recognize so many people—and that’s overwhelming. Seeing people from all parts of my life there: friends from Spruce Grove, Edmonton, Calgary. That was fun. The speaking is not fun, but in a way, I do enjoy thanking those people who helped me. As you’re standing there, you’re in a mad panic thinking again about who you might have forgotten—you’re trying to remember them all. I think that’s the biggest fear. Forgetting somebody.

  Having eschewed the tuxedo, there was the issue of how to represent Grant’s long NHL career in five cities. Though the focus was unquestionably on the Oilers, the uniform for the evening had been carefully assembled from the equipment Grant had worn during his 17-year tenure in the NHL.

  Grant:

  It was the first time I’d put the equipment on since retiring. The Hall of Fame had sent my mask back to me for that night. We had the original. The under-body stuff was from St. Louis. The gloves were from St. Louis. The pants were a pair that I had worn in Edmonton. Even the Brown neck protector. It was a mismatch of equipment. We were a little afraid it might not fit anymore, because I wasn’t exactly slim at that point. But it worked out great.

  I came to the arena that night and we were way over in one of the back dressing rooms, because the guys were getting ready to play—you don’t want to be a distraction to them. I walked into that room, and the equipment’s hanging there like it always did. Sparky’s around there, Joey’s around there. So you sit back there and have a couple of cold beverages beforehand to take the edge off.

  Then you start to put the stuff on—it’s like you go by memory and by Braille—what goes where again? That’s the other hard part. I literally hadn’t touched equipment since I retired. I swore I was never going to put it back on again. And it led to doing the Heritage Classic in Edmonton, and once a year doing Gretz’s fantasy camp.

  As the crowds cheer their hero, Grant struggles to sum up his feelings about the team he starred for, the people he played with and the times—both good and bad—that he’d seen in the Alberta capital. “I have been part of a lot of opening nights, but none better than this,” he tells the crowd. “Everybody here stuck with me and that’s a beautiful thing. The group of guys we had here were just one big family. I was happy to be a part of that.”

  Then, in his understated style, he allows for his nerves. “I hate speaking. I made more speeches in the last two days than I will make in the rest of my life.” Then the jersey ascends to the rafters. As his eyes wells with tears, former teammate Kevin Lowe—then president and GM of the Oilers—brings him a bottle of water.

  Grant:

  It’s a great honour to see your name go up there. But it’s also fun to see the company it’s up there with. You think: it was a pretty good hockey team. Some great friends and great players.

  If there’s one t
hing I want all those people to know it’s that I enjoyed doing it every day more than anything. Loved the process of what it takes to play at this level. I might have done it a little differently than most people. I probably had more fun than I should have, but I enjoyed every minute of it.

  A young Grant Fuhr with his grandmother and cousins. [credit: courtesy of the author]

  Grant was named the 1979-80 WHL Rookie of the Year with the Victoria Cougars: it was no fluke, as the next season he was named WHL Goalie of the Year. [credit: Victoria Times Colonist]

  Edmonton selected Fuhr (pictured here with Wayne Gretzky) with the 8th pick of the 1981 entry draft after Oilers head scout Barry Fraser told general manager Glen Sather that Grant was going to end up in the Hall of Fame. [credit: Miles Nadal/Hockey Hall of Fame]

  Grant Fuhr makes a save during the 1985 Stanley Cup Finals against Philadelphia, en route to the Oilers’ second championship (and first of two against the Flyers). [credit: Paul Bereswill/Hockey Hall of Fame]