by Glenn Parker
Garry and Don exchanged looks. “You must be kidding,” Garry said. “I don’t get it.”
“It’s very simple,” Brush explained. “He’s our property. When he chose to quit hockey, there was nothing we could do, but now that he’s playing again, he’s obligated to play with nobody but us.”
“You mean he’s not free to play with us? How come?” Garry asked.
Brush nodded. “The only way he can get out of his contract is by obtaining an unconditional release. Frankly, at the moment, I can’t do that. I’ve got an obligation to our owners to ice the best hockey team I can. Without Don, I’m not living up to that obligation.” He paused as the others thought about what he was saying. “Besides, I’m doing him a favor. He knows he has no future playing in this league. He’s probably doing himself a lot of harm playing amongst a bunch of…against teams that don’t offer much —”
“Now just one minute,” Garry interrupted. “Whatever else this league is, it’s not a bush league as you’re implying. There’s some good hockey played down here and I’d bet my last dollar that Don is getting just as good an experience here as he would with you.”
Brush made an impatient gesture. “Oh, come on Garry. Be realistic. You played junior — you know the difference.”
“I haven’t been able to get to any of the games,” Allan said. “So I really can’t compare them. But the intermediate hockey I saw up north was pretty good. Aren’t a lot of their players ex-juniors?”
“Of course they are,” Garry said. “Some of them have played pro too. Two of the Ferrins have pro experience, several of the players on the other teams have played Senior A. A lot of them have played college hockey in the States on scholarships. So you can hardly call it a bush league.”
Brush looked unconvinced. “You can talk until the cows come home but you wouldn’t convince me. I’ve seen too much intermediate hockey to change my mind on that score.”
There was a smugness about him that angered Don.
A smile suddenly crossed Garry’s face as he looked at Brush. “Say, I’ve got a whale of an idea. Why don’t you bring that team of yours down here and just see how good they are. I mean, you’re already in Weyburn — that’s only a few hours from here. If you beat us, Don goes with you, if not, he stays with us. If it ends in a tie, we can have a shootout.”
“Now just a minute,” Don interrupted. “I’m not sure I like being treated like a pawn in a chess game.”
Brush was shaking his head. “It couldn’t be done anyway, so stop worrying. The owners would have a fit if we played against you rough and tumble guys. There’s not one of your players who wouldn’t love to rack up some of our guys.”
Garry wasn’t to be denied. “I promise you there won’t be any rough stuff. This is an exhibition game. We’ll strictly play hockey.” He looked at Allan. “As an additional incentive, we could donate the proceeds of the game to help our local artist get back on his feet again.”
“The owners would never go for it, Garry. I’m sorry. I couldn’t take the chance that one of my players could get hurt. Besides, I’m not sure my guys would want to play you. They’ve already got a pretty hectic schedule.”
“Why don’t you ask them?” Garry shot at him.
For the first time Brush seemed at a loss for words. Then he shrugged. “Seems to me I’ve got everything to lose and nothing to gain. After all, Don’s our property already. What’s in it for me?”
Garry grinned. “Never thought I’d see the day when Brush Harvey would turn down a challenge like that. I still think we can give you a heck of a game, maybe even beat you. What do you think guys?”
Don and Allan nodded their heads in agreement.
“I’ve seen some awfully good intermediate hockey,” Allan said. “I think you guys would have a real shot.”
Brush looked thoughtful for a moment then he chuckled. “Okay, I’ll give them a call. If they say yes, then it’s on. But remember, I’m sticking my neck out. If the owners hear about this, I’ll be twisting in the wind and maybe looking for another coaching job.” He stood up and began walking toward the door. “I’ll call them from my car. Be back in a few minutes.”
When he had gone, Don began to laugh. “You are amazing, Garry. You should have been a salesman. You could sell snow to the Eskimos.”
“I appreciate the bit about the proceeds going to help me out, Garry,” Allan said. “That was real thoughtful, but I think the money should go to Minor Hockey instead.”
“Anyway, it was a stroke of genius,” Don said. “It might just be the part that makes Brush go for it. You know how he likes to be considered a contributor to anything connected with the community.”
“Do you think the team will be interested?” Garry asked.
Don smiled. “Well, if I was playing for them, I don’t think there would be any doubt in my mind. I think they’ll go for it.”
“The next question is can we beat them?” Garry asked. “Sorry about putting your neck on the line, but it seemed the only thing to do. At least we’ve got a chance this way.”
“They’re a good, solid team,” Don said. “But they’re not invincible. If we play sound, fundamental hockey and get a few breaks, we could take them. We could have beaten them on Saturday night — we could have beaten anybody then. We were fired up and that’s what we need when and if we play them.”
Ten minutes later Brush returned and took his seat. “We can play on Tuesday night. We were going to go on to Estevan and practice Tuesday for a Wednesday night game, but we’ll play you instead. How’s that sound?”
“Great!” Gary said excitedly. “I guess we’d better dig up Lew and tell him first. I think he’ll be pretty excited about this. He loves a good challenge.”
“Just hold on,” Brush said. Garry resumed his seat. “I haven’t finished. First of all, there’s to be no needless rough stuff. This isn’t a game to prove who’s got the most muscle. Is that understood?”
They nodded in agreement.
“Second, we’ll need a place to stay, like billets or something. Either that or a percentage of the gate. This kind of side trip isn’t in our budget. Can you arrange that?”
“No problem,” Garry said.”We’ll have a meeting tonight and set things up. We might be able to use the high school dorms since the kids are off school this week.”
“Thirdly,” Brush said, “there’ll be no questions asked if we beat you. Don comes with us.”
Don nodded. The thought of having to pack up and leave the team and the friends that he had made didn’t sit well with him, but there didn’t seem to be any way out of it except to win the game.
Brush looked at his watch. “I’ve got to get back to Weyburn,” he said, rising. “I’ll see you guys on Tuesday night.” At the door, he stopped and looked back at the group. “And good luck — you’re going to need it.”
Lew’s initial response to the game was one of annoyance. “You mean you bet that we can beat the Saskatoon Huskies with Don as the stakes? You guys have lost your mind.”
“Well, it’s not quite like that,” Don explained. “You see, Brush came down here to tell me to report to the club. Legally, I’m still signed with them. The game at least gives me a chance to stay in Fairmore if we win. Otherwise, I’ll have to rejoin the Huskies.”
They were standing in Lew’s living room. He gestured for them to sit down. “What I can’t understand is why Brush chose now to claim you. Their league’s been going for over six weeks.”
“They’re not doing so hot this year so I guess he’s decided he needs me. Besides, my release was conditional. If I decided to play hockey again, I could only play for them. I neglected to read the fine print.”
Lew looked thoughtful. “What are our chances of beating them? You know them better than anybody, Don.”
Don repeated what he had told Garry and Allan. “We’re not going to outskate them that’s for sure. So we’re going to have to play a defensive game and wait for the breaks.”
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sp; “What about their goaltender? Is he any good? Any weaknesses there that we can take advantage of?” Lew asked.
“Tom Erickson is their regular goalie, so I would imagine he’ll be playing. He’s fast on his feet and he’s got an excellent glove hand. The only way you can beat him is along the ice or a screen shot. He’ll get everything in the air.”
“Well, we can discuss this later on. Right now we’ll have to phone the rest of the team and call a meeting for tonight. Two days doesn’t give us much time.”
* * *
The meeting was held in the dressing room at the arena. Most of the players were present and a general enthusiasm was evident when they were told the purpose of the meeting, although most already knew. Fairmore was a small town and news travelled fast.
Strategies were discussed as well as the more mundane job of advertising and finding a place for the team to stay. It was decided to give the Huskies a percentage of the gate with the rest split between Minor Hockey and Allan. Arrangements had to be made for an emergency practice on Monday night.
By Monday afternoon the whole town was talking about the upcoming game. Speculation was rampant. The skeptics scoffed at Lew’s chances, the more optimistic predicted a win. One thing was clear. Once again the Fairmore arena would resound with the roar of a full house.
Lew concentrated on several pattern plays on Monday night as well as clearing the puck out of their own zone. “Play it like the Russians,” he said. “Puck control and lots of fore-checking.”
When the practice was finished, an overall optimism prevailed in the dressing room. It looked, Don thought, as though firing the team up for the game wasn’t going to be a problem. They were already fired up during the practice and with a full house and the prospect of playing against a top junior team, Lew’s job was going to be an easy one.
As he walked home that night, Don thought of the alternatives. He knew that the chances were good that he would be leaving Fairmore in the next few days. That thought worried him. He had come to like the place and its people, his job. There would be a time when he would have to leave of course, but now wasn’t that time.
He dreamed that night that he had a breakaway and was coming in on the Husky’s goalie, but when he tried to shoot, the puck stuck to his stick like glue and no matter what he did, he couldn’t shake it loose.
When he awoke and recalled the dream, he hoped it wasn’t some kind of omen.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Huskies arrived in Fairmore early on Tuesday evening. The arena was already beginning to fill up as their bus pulled up to the entrance.
Don was there to meet them with Lew and Garry as Brush stepped off the bus. Don introduced Brush to Lew. Several of the Huskies threw quips at him as they got off the bus.
“Hey Busher, you ready to be humiliated?”
“What’s the name of this place anyway? Dogpatch?”
“Hey guys, we’re in lower Slobovia — everybody out.”
Don grinned and shook hands with some of his old friends. “Save your jokes until later,” he said. “You might need them then.”
There was a cheer from the crowd as the Huskies made their way past them to the dressing room.
When Lew, Garry and Don returned to their own dressing room, the place was in an uproar. The players were using up nervous energy in a mock version of a hockey game. Underweared and half-dressed players alike were involved with a concentrated energy in the game at hand. The puck was rolled up pieces of tape, the net a circle on the wall. Such was the absorption in the game that Lew’s appearance went unnoticed.
“Okay you guys, save your energy for the game eh?” Lew said. “We’re going to need every bit we’ve got.”
“Aw Lew, we were just about to tie the score,” Benny complained. “It ain’t fair.”
Lew walked to the chalk board as the players resumed dressing. “We’ve been over this a dozen times, so I won’t belabor it. Just remember, if you give these guys half a stride, they’ll leave you behind every time. You’ve got to get out there and skate like you haven’t skated before. And check, check, check. I don’t care who you’re playing, if you hang onto your checks like your life depended on it, they can’t do much damage.”
Don had forgotten how big the Huskies were as he watched them warm up before the game. And they looked impressive there was no doubt about that. He just hoped that the Blades would not be overwhelmed by their appearance. The only advantage they had was that the Huskies probably underestimated them. If that was the case, the Blades might get opportunities that they otherwise wouldn’t get.
Lew gave a final pep talk before they went back onto the ice for the face-off. “And keep this uppermost in your mind guys,” he said. “You’re playing this one for Don. If we win, he stays with us. Let’s make sure he does.”
The team went through the door like a pack of wild horses and were greeted with the loudest roar ever heard in the Fairmore arena. Don had to smile at the team’s enthusiasm. None of them had ever experienced anything like this nor were they likely to again. It was a moment to savor.
Brush’s strategy was evident almost immediately. Don could almost hear him: “fore-check these guys into the ice, rush them, overwhelm them, make them lose their confidence. This is a whole new experience for them so they should be easy to rattle. Once we get them rattled, it should be easy pickings.”
The first few minutes of the game was played at a breakneck pace with the puck going from end to end. But it was sloppy hockey at best as was often the case when two totally different teams met for the first time.
“Rag the puck,” Lew yelled. “And keep it out of our end.”
Don and Garry were working well together and carrying the play when they were on the ice. Don had several good shots on net which were easily handled by Erickson. Each time he got a pass from Garry.
The crowd roared continuously beginning to realize that this club of theirs was holding its own.
Midway through the period, Don intercepted a clearing pass by a defenseman and let a shot go along the ice. It hit a skate and slithered into the corner of the net. Erickson didn’t have a chance.
The game had to be halted for five minutes while the debris was cleaned off the ice. The fans were wild and began to chant, “Go Blades Go”. Another roar, louder than the first, went up when the loudspeaker announced the goal scorer.
“There’s our first break,” Lew said, as Don skated to the bench. “Let’s hope there’s going to be more of them. If we can keep up this pace, we’ll hold our own.”
Jake Cuthbert made several sensational saves in the net that gave the team a big lift. He was grinning from ear to ear as the team clumped into the dressing room at the end of the first period.
Don went over to him and put his arm around his friend’s shoulder. “Nice going, Jake. You’re doing great out there.” They could still hear the murmur of the crowd as they settled into the dressing room a goal up on the Saskatoon Huskies.
Lew went from player to player slapping them on the pads and giving them words of encouragement. Don had never seen him so worked up. And no wonder, he thought. It would be a feather in his cap if he could pull off a win against A Major Junior team. The specter of losing his coaching job would disappear forever.
Don felt satisfied with the way he was playing so far. The goal was the biggest thrill of his life. If only it would hold up. But he knew that was pure folly to even consider. The Huskies had too many prolific scorers to ever keep them off the scoreboard. In their first eight games this season, they had not been shut out once. They had scored no less than three goals and as many as six in one game. Even at that, they were only in third place although they had won their last two games by a good margin.
The buzzer sounded to end the rest period and the teams returned to the ice. Don hoped the team didn’t feel complacent. He knew only too well that one period did not make a hockey game. The time to get complacent was when the final whistle blew and they had won the game.
>
Their second break came in the middle period. The Huskies came out strong and were pressing in Blade territory, peppering Jake with shots.
Don picked up a rebound in the corner and saw Garry breaking up centre ice. He fired the puck straight up the middle. A Husky defenseman got his stick on it, but it got past him and Garry picked it up at full flight. There was no one between him and the goalie.
Twenty feet out, he let a slap shot go that Erickson had to do the splits on to save. The rebound came straight out to Tom Halverson who fired it into the net.
Brush called his players to the bench amidst the thunderous roar of the crowd. While the rink rats cleaned up the debris, Brush talked to his players, making gestures and slapping them on the back before they skated to centre ice for the face off.
The roar of the crowd was a continuous thing as they could smell victory. Every fan called encouragement to the players, the trumpeter kept up a continual blast on his horn. Every time the home town boys got the puck, the crowd chanted, “Go Blades Go”.
Brush’s strategy became evident a few minutes later: Puck control. Keep possession and force the other team into taking a penalty. It was a favorite Brush Harvey strategy.
It wasn’t long before their intention was realized. Frustrated at not being able to get the puck, Ev Timichuk hooked a player and was banished to the penalty box for two minutes.
Lew called the players to the bench and sent out the first line. “Try to hang onto the puck as long as you can,” he said, “and then ice it.”
The Husky’s power play proved too strong for the short-handed Blades and before a minute was up, they had scored from the point on a screen shot. The roar of the crowd settled down to a murmur as Timichuk skated back onto the ice.
The Blades hung on until the buzzer went to end the second period. It was becoming increasingly obvious, however, that the Huskies were beginning to dominate and that it would be only a matter of time before the score was tied.
The Blades did not lose their spirit during the rest period. They were still ahead and they weren’t going to go down to defeat without a struggle.