A Great Game

by Stephen J. Harper

  From the beginning of the second, the Queen City started getting into penalty trouble. Both Young and Corbeau were off when Glass broke the tie off the top. He banged the puck in after a faceoff directly in front of Tyner.

  The Torontos came right back. Only two minutes later, Ross lost the puck while trying to clear it. Lalonde managed to dig it out of the slush in front of the Montreal goal and evened the score at two apiece.

  Only one minute after that, the Toronto challengers went ahead for the second time in the evening. Young joined the forward line on a rush. Taking control of the puck behind the Wanderer goal, he swept out in front and scored. The Montreal fans were beginning to contemplate the real possibility of losing the Stanley Cup—and losing it to an unheralded new team from … Toronto. In a haze caused by smoking and warm temperatures, the atmosphere was becoming very intense.

  Again, however, the Pros got into penalty trouble. Ridpath was still in the box, with Young and Lalonde just returning, when Glass took a pass from Johnson to tie the game once more. In the contest, the Torontos would take thirty-eight minutes in penalties to only twenty-six for the Wanderers, a differential that opened up almost entirely in the second half. Young, despite being credited with a very strong two-way game, was singled out six times and served fourteen minutes on the fence.

  Ironically, power plays were not as big a factor in the game as might be thought. Toronto had a three-man advantage shortly after the count became 3–3, yet the score would stay that way for ten full minutes. In the tough slogging, lopsided manpower was no assurance of goals or even scoring chances.

  Nevertheless, the play was beginning to shift Montreal’s way, with Tyner increasingly keeping his team in it. Whereas the Torontos had at first seemed less bothered by—and more accustomed to—the poor conditions, the Wanderers’ superior weight was beginning to tell. Stuart’s presence had also given their attack some spark. Yet the Ontario champs were still getting their opportunities. Morrison in particular missed a couple of good ones.

  The Wanderers finally broke the tie. After a strong offensive thrust, Montreal captain Blachford did the trick, fishing the puck out of water during a wild scramble in front of Tyner. The Torontos were again just returning to even strength.

  Then came the most unusual event of the evening. After the go-ahead goal, Ridpath was down on the ice. It was later revealed he had received a butt-end to the groin. The injury was serious enough for Riddy, once on his feet, to leave the game for good. Glass was taken off to compensate.

  Referee Patrick then proceeded to blow the whistle at centre ice to resume play. For reasons that are unclear, the Redbands showed no sign of heeding the call to action. In frustration, the ref finally dropped the puck in front of Lalonde, the lonely and momentarily startled Toronto centre.

  Hern and the other Wanderers had been chatting to admirers at the boards. Suddenly seized with their predicament, they fled towards their positions. But Newsy, now realizing what was happening, stepped back and drilled the puck high from centre ice, towards the empty net. With the outstretched arms of the goalie still yards away, the disc dropped in and the umpire’s hand went up to signal a goal.

  The Wanderers, also known as the Redbands, were one of early hockey’s great dynasties.

  The sudden-death match to decide the Stanley Cup was now tied at four with less than a quarter of the game left to be played. The action became increasingly rough. Smaill was hurt and Marks went off to even up. Without Ridpath, however, the Torontos’ attack was fading and the Wanderers were forcing the play to their end. Then, yet again, defencemen Corbeau and Young were penalized.

  The Wanderers now outnumbered the Torontos five men to three—counting the goaltenders. Lalonde and Morrison valiantly ragged the puck for a couple of minutes. Finally, Johnson got control and shovelled it in for a 5–4 Redbands lead.

  Only about twelve and a half minutes were left in the match. In due course, the penalized players returned, as did Smaill and Marks. Morrison had a fight with Ross, but this time it was the Wanderers who began to fall into penalty trouble.

  With this opportunity, the Torontos launched something of a counteroffensive. Morrison pressed towards the Montreal goal. Lalonde had a clear shot at a partly open net—but it went over the crossbar.

  At last, with less than two minutes to go in the contest, the Wanderers broke out and carried the puck down to the Torontos’ end. Smaill took a good, hard shot from the side. The rebound off Tyner landed in the pool in front of the challengers’ net. The defence attempted to clear, but Stuart managed to poke it in.

  It was all over, the champs winning 6–4. In the process, they had confirmed their reputation as great finishers. This had been the club’s trademark ever since their first Stanley Cup win over the Ottawas two years earlier.

  Finishing their third straight season in possession of the Cup, the Montreal Wanderers would be immortalized as one of early hockey’s great dynasties. The Toronto Professionals, their incredible brush with eternity terminated by the final bell, would be a mere footnote in the mug’s history.

  But on that Saturday night, it could have gone either way.

  • CHAPTER NINE •

  THE PROS IN RETREAT

  The Garnet and Grey Hit Cracks in the Ice

  Five or six hundred [Guelph] rooters were out … vigorously and vehemently declaring that the Torontos were “dogs,” “fat lobsters,” “cattle,” “horses,” “wooden men,” and other things equally complimentary.1

  —Toronto News

  Having come within a whisker of taking the Stanley Cup, the Toronto Professionals had emerged as the toast of the hockey world. They had managed to impress virtually all observers of the big game. Rabid Montreal followers admitted their Wanderers had just scraped through. And even John Ross Robertson’s Tely heaped praise on the play of Alexander Miln’s men, conceding, “it is a big thing for the Mutual street pros to have got within hailing distance of the cup.”2

  To a man, the players also received rave reviews. The defence, normally the weak point, had performed admirably after Miln brought in Jimmy Murphy to do some rearguard coaching. Bruce Ridpath, who had never been seen before on eastern ice, had stunned the men with his speed and skill and charmed the women with his clean-cut good looks. General opinion was that the Torontos had a bright future. “If they can be kept together [they] will be a strong factor in the fight for the Stanley Cup next season,” predicted the Montreal Star.3 The result had some side benefits for Toronto management, too. Miln and sidekick Teddy Marriott had taken many bets against the Wanderers doubling the score. They were coming home with their pockets full—reportedly to the tune of two and a half thousand dollars.

  Even the Tely was impressed by the Garnet and Grey’s performance in the big game.

  Yet the close, coarse and controversial sudden-death Stanley Cup match had concluded with none of the good cheer of the old amateur days. Neither club had much good to say about the other. Both claimed they would have won decisively on good ice. The Wanderers’ president, William Jennings, dismissed the scare the champs had received. He offered instead a quip about the watery ice surface: “Our fellows are bad swimmers.”4

  Notwithstanding the plaudits and the profits, the Torontos were very bitter in defeat. They complained about every aspect of the refereeing. The eastern officials, they alleged, had failed to understand the Ontario offside rule and had called their plays back frequently. The challengers had also been on the long end of the penalties. The failure to impose one when Ridpath was injured and the allowing of a Wanderer player substitution—the big turning points of the match—had them particularly angry.

  Some—though clearly not all—commentators thought the Torontos had a point. It did not help when judge of play Russell Bowie, a Montrealer, opined that “the better team won.”5 Miln’s brief postgame statement was as pointed and undiplomatic as his 1902 speech in Winnipeg had been expansive and generous:

  We lost on account of the ice. If there h
ad been less water on it, and the officials had been more impartial, there was no reason why we should not have beaten Wanderers. We had them going all the game. I think that they were lucky to win.6

  Maybe it was the foul mood, but the Toronto Professionals began a downward trend almost as soon as they left Montreal. As was the practice of the day, both teams headed out to finish the season with some exhibition matches. The Wanderers were off to New York, taking Bert Morrison and the Shamrocks with them. The Torontos had their own three-game excursion planned for Ontario, in the hopes of promoting their league—as well as earning some extra cash.

  The Torontos’ exhibition schedule was to start with the Dutchmen at the Berlin Auditorium on the following Friday night, March 20. The Berlin club likely needed the extra home revenue because Guelph had failed to show there for the final league game.

  Right from the outset of the trip, pulling together a lineup was proving to be a challenge. Besides Morrison, the Torontos would also be missing Rolly Young, who was off doing his studies. Guelph’s Harvey Corbeau was brought in at cover. Brantford’s Jack Marks was retained to play right wing. Walter Mercer was moved to Morrison’s position at rover.

  With the teams playing for a $500 bet, the game was bound to be intense. Before a crowd of 1,200 Berliners, the home side went up 5–0 before Toronto managed to score. With the half ending 6–1, the play got increasingly rough. No fewer than six players were down at various times. Only the ever-reliable Ridpath was a bright light for the Stanley Cup challengers in the decisive 8–4 loss, while Ezra Dumart and Nelson Gross starred for Berlin.

  Matters quickly turned worse. The following night, the Toronto team was even more patched up as they prepared to meet Guelph. Inexplicably, somewhere on the train ride from Berlin, Chuck Tyner and Ridpath had apparently jumped off. This now left only Con Corbeau, Newsy Lalonde and Mercer from the regulars. Berlin goaltender Charlie Ellis and utility man Jim McGinnis were added to Marks to beef up the squad. Guelph also borrowed from Berlin—in the person of Goldie Cochrane—and also put just six men on the ice.

  The incomplete, makeshift cast was only the tip of the iceberg. The game was characterized in terms ranging from “burlesque” and “farcical”7 to just plain “weird.”8 The Globe summarized it as “a game of shinny and fighting, with the spectators piling in occasionally.”9 The local paper gave more expansive descriptions of the spectacle:

  It was an exhibition of hockey tag, where one player got the puck and held it as long as he could, despite the interference of friend or foe … a free for all scrap … however, no one was hurt and, like the game, the whole matter ended in a laugh … Bert Booth [Guelph’s goalie] helped to sustain the interest of the spectators by occasionally rushing.10

  If this was the Royals’ attempt to relaunch themselves after the dismal season in Guelph, it certainly failed. Only a couple of hundred turned out. Toronto won 12–6—according to the few who were counting.

  The last exhibition game—and the second against Berlin—was set for Monday night in the neighbouring town of Galt (now part of the city of Cambridge). There had been unhappiness with the OHA and talk of pro hockey in that burg for some time. By bringing in its two best clubs, there can be no doubt the OPHL was scouting the site for the next season.

  Alas, this final chapter to the 1907–08 season was another step in the postseason descent. The contestants again presented the public with improvised rosters falling a man short. This time, the Torontos borrowed Booth and Corbeau from Guelph to supplement their remaining core and Jack Marks. They won convincingly, 9–4. However, with the ice quickly disappearing, the game was nothing to write home about, let alone to waste much space in the sports pages over.

  There was no denying that the road trip from Montreal to Galt had been a very odd anticlimax to a great season. The Toronto Professionals had assembled a top-notch, disciplined aggregation and stuck with it all the way through to a near miss at the Stanley Cup. Observers had universally christened them a future contender. Then the club had finished off with cobbled-together lineups and halfhearted efforts.

  It would be a sign of things to come.

  For now, it was but a small example of the growing turmoil within the professional sporting bodies that had risen up in rebellion against the rigid order of amateur athletics. And none was facing greater challenges than the organization that advocated the coexistence of amateur and professional athletes: the Amateur Athletic Federation of Canada. It was gradually but inexorably losing its civil war with the ideologues of the Canadian Amateur Athletic Union. Events between the hockey seasons of 1908 would seal its fate.

  Colonel John Hanbury-Williams, secretary to Governor General Grey, had finally, after several false starts, secured his Olympic compromise. The Montreal-based Federation and the Toronto-based Union had been arm-twisted into an uneasy agreement on the structure of a Canadian Olympic Committee. In essence, the two feuding amateur bodies agreed to waive their various rules and injunctions against each other’s athletes for the purposes of the London Summer Games only.

  A temporary truce had thus been reached in the Athletic War. There would be a Canadian team at the Olympics after all. There was no sense, when the Canadians set sail for Britain, that the pact was soon to blow up in spectacular fashion.

  The source of the confrontation lay in the alliance between the AAFC and the American Amateur Athletic Union. The U.S. body had severed its links to the CAAU over a number of issues, including that of Tom Longboat. American sports authorities were convinced that the stellar Onondaga runner was a professional. In their eyes, he was therefore ineligible for the Olympic marathon, which he was also the clear favourite to win following his remarkable performance the year before in Boston. The split between the American and Canadian unions had given the Federation the advantage in any cross-border athletic endeavour.

  Yet the Federation badly overplayed its hand. Egged on by its Yankee ally, the Montreal-based organization decided to support a U.S. protest against Longboat’s entry in the Olympic marathon just ten days before the event was to take place. The CAAU and the COC publicly joined in support of Longboat. The challenge was ultimately rejected, but Canadian unity had been shattered before an international audience.

  The 1908 London Olympic marathon begins on the East Terrace of Windsor Castle on July 24. Tom Longboat—the favourite to win—can be seen in the back third of runners, beside another Canadian runner wearing a hat and maple leaf jersey.

  Longboat ran, and indeed, he held the early lead as the runners set out from Windsor Castle. However, he began to struggle in the middle third of the race and, near the twenty-mile mark, collapsed and was unable to finish. The race was marred by controversy. In extremely hot conditions, Italy’s Dorando Pietri came first into the Great Stadium but fell several times and, seemingly disoriented, began moving in the wrong direction. He was set right by the intervention of British officials and was all but carried across the finish line. The Americans protested, and U.S. runner Johnny Hayes was ultimately awarded the gold. As for Longboat, the theories were rampant: heat exhaustion, drugs—even that he had been drunk.11

  The Athletic War was never popular with the Canadian public, whose disgust was now palpable.

  Back in Canada, however, the public was outraged. The actions of the AAFC in joining with the Americans to try to block Longboat were widely seen as dishonourable and disloyal. In truth, it was hard to view them any other way.

  Ironically, within a few short months, Longboat announced his intention to go openly professional after all. But it did not matter—the Federation’s support, even in its home centre of Montreal, had been shattered.

  The reality was that the Toronto-centred Union had won more than just the war of public opinion. It had aggressively and massively outorganized the Federation over the previous two years. By its 1908 annual fall meeting, the CAAU had grown from just thirty-six clubs to more than 900, with 60,000 members and provincial branches in every part of the country. It had
also adopted a more flexible approach, sometimes offering readmission to those bodies that had dabbled in professionalism.

  Conversely, the Federation seemed convinced of its superiority simply by virtue of being based in Montreal. With only token efforts at national recruitment, it remained limited to that city’s environs in Quebec and eastern Ontario. Equally important, the AAFC had also failed to advance its core agenda. While professional sport was more and more in the open, professionals and amateurs were mixing less and less. In an era when many athletes played more than one sport competitively, the Union was able to effectively threaten cross-sport bans on pro participants and organizations. Thus, players, clubs and leagues going professional tended to do so without qualification—and outside the Federation—further lessening the Montreal organization’s sway.

  Nowhere was the division between professionals and amateurs as increasingly stark as in hockey. In the lead-up to the 1908–09 season, the country’s leading league finally went fully and officially professional. Following the example of the National Lacrosse Union three years before, the organization dispensed with the word “Amateur” to become simply the Eastern Canada Hockey Association.

  Coincident with the rechristening of the ECHA was the departure of two of its historic clubs, Montreal’s Victorias and Wheelers. The defection of the latter was a sure sign that the Montreal Amateur Athletic Association—the backbone of the Federation—was preparing to capitulate in the Athletic War. Almost immediately, the two teams would help form a new, major league of amateur hockey, the Interprovincial Amateur Hockey Union. It was clearly intended to parallel the CAAU’s “Big Four” rugby football league. The two Montreal clubs would be joined by two from Ontario: the Ottawa Cliffsides and the Toronto Athletics. The four teams would be a high-calibre, purely amateur grouping. Professional hockey had no equivalent cross-regional circuit.

  Indeed, amateur hockey, with a much more extensive infrastructure in place than the pro game, was regrouping across the country. In Manitoba, the Winnipeg Victorias were leading the re-establishment of a provincial amateur league. The CAAU’s provincial wings were likewise linking to amateur hockey associations in their respective jurisdictions. Of course, John Ross Robertson’s Ontario Hockey Association, despite the growth of pro hockey in the province, remained the country’s largest and most deeply organized hockey body.