The Goal of My Life

by Paul Henderson

  In the playoffs, we were ousted by the San Diego Mariners in six games in the opening round, but my season ended well before then. A freak accident during a regular-season game forced me to the sidelines, as I collided with a Phoenix Roadrunner player who was headed to the bench during a game. We banged knees and I wound up tearing knee ligaments, which required season-ending surgery.

  Billy Harris, the former Leaf who’d coached Team Canada ‘74, was the coach that year, and he was a terrific guy. He knew the game very well and we respected him, but we weren’t nearly as strong as some of the better teams in the league, and he didn’t finish the season as our coach.

  I looked at the schedule at the start of the season and noticed that there were five times when we played home games on a Friday night, followed by Sunday night. The Leafs owned Saturday nights, of course, so we scheduled around them. At the time, we had a family home near Goderich, so I approached Harris with a proposal. If we won those Friday night games and I was the first star, I asked, would it be possible for me to skip the Saturday and Sunday morning skates so I could have more time off with my family over the weekend? Harris agreed. Well, talk about some good motivation for me: we won four of those five games and I was the first star in all four of the wins! So Eleanor and I would bundle up the kids into the car at, say, 11:00 p.m. on Friday and drive up to Goderich to enjoy some family time. We’d spend the weekend with our horse and cutter and snowmobiles, and I wouldn’t have to be back until game time Sunday. It was such a treat to be able to have that kind of time to spend with your family on a weekend during hockey season! I remember saying to Eleanor several times, “Can you believe I get paid to do this?”

  For the 1975–76 season, we had a new coach behind the bench: former Leaf Bobby Baun. We lost a few players to the NHL, including goalie Gilles Gratton, and we once again didn’t have that strong a team as the season began, compared to some of the WHA’S better clubs.

  Baun was an honest and straightforward guy, but we just couldn’t seem to get going that year and he wound up being fired before the season’s end, which was a real shame. Gilles Leger replaced him, but that didn’t help as we still wound up finishing in last place in the Canadian Division.

  I had a decent year with twenty-six goals and twenty-nine assists for fifty-five points in sixty-five games, but we really didn’t do much at all that season, which turned out to be the swan song for the WHA in Toronto. There was just no way we could compete with the Maple Leafs; even though we were playing in the same building, we might as well have been a million miles away from them in terms of popularity and attention. It’s all Leafs, all the time, in Toronto today, and it was really the same back then.

  After that season, Johnny Bassett decided the team would be moving to – of all places – Birmingham, Alabama! Wow, talk about a change of scenery. One of the terms of my contract with the Toros (soon to become the Bulls) was that I didn’t have to relocate with the team if they moved farther than fifty miles from Toronto. In other words, the only place I had to move with the team would’ve been Hamilton. I didn’t have any issues with moving, especially since Bassett had been so good to me, as a result of which I felt obligated to him from a moral perspective. Eleanor and I thought it would be a good learning experience for our family, as the children were thirteen, eleven, and six years old. As it would turn out, being in Birmingham was great for all of us. It was there that I would meet John Bradford, who became one of my mentors in helping me discover my deep spiritual roots. We wound up living there for eight years, and it ended up being a wonderful and rewarding experience.

  So off we went to the Deep South, a different place for a hockey team, to be sure. But we had great fans at our games, and we found wonderful and solid friends who we still keep in contact with to this day.

  I had twenty-three goals and twenty-five assists for forty-eight points that season in eighty-one games. The best part of it all was that all five of us really fell in love with the city. There was such a positive spirit in the “Bible Belt,” and our lives revolved around the church and the many activities that it provided.

  The city had a brand-new arena, and we would draw about 8,500 fans per game into it, which was pretty good for a southern city. The fans got into it as well. There was a real buzz about the team in the city, which made it kind of fun. Hardly anyone knew who Paul Henderson was, so I could go out in public and not be recognized – which suited me just fine. Eleanor was able to be herself instead of Paul Henderson’s wife, and she really thrived there.

  We built a home and settled into a very comfortable lifestyle in the city. We didn’t have a great year on the ice as a team, but every player loved playing in Birmingham. The next season, 1977–78, we made the playoffs by finishing in sixth place in the East Division, and I had my best season in the WHA in terms of numbers, scoring thirty-seven goals and twenty-nine assists for sixty-six points. Glen Sonmor took over as coach, and we were a tough team that season, to be sure. I had never before been on a team that had so many fighters – we had four guys with more than two hundred minutes in penalties to prove it. None of those guys played more than half of the season either, so I was the peacemaker most of the time. I must have broken up dozens of fights that season, just trying to keep our guys from being thrown out of games!

  One game in particular, at home against the Cincinnati Stingers, stands out. It became known as the “Thanksgiving Day Massacre.” A massive brawl broke out just twelve seconds into the game, and it must have taken a good forty minutes or so to clean up the resulting mess. That was just the kind of team we had that year. We made a quick playoff exit, but that season was memorable in a lot of ways. The fans sure loved the fighting – and Peter Marrin and I sure played a lot because we killed the penalties, and there were a lot to kill.

  In 1978–79, John Brophy became our head coach. He had gained considerable notoriety after a long career as a minor league defenceman in the Eastern Hockey League. He was the all-time leader in penalty minutes in the Eastern League by a wide margin, and he had thirty fights for every goal he scored! When he arrived, I didn’t know what to expect because his reputation certainly preceded him. But remarkably, things seemed to settle down under Brophy, who treated me extremely well, and we really hit it off and became friends.

  I was used in every situation that season – on the power play and penalty kill – while still taking my regular shift. I had a lot of respect for Brophy. He was a players’ coach and the guys really loved him. If you worked hard for him, he would back you 100 percent, but he couldn’t handle players who didn’t give it their all. He was in incredible shape himself and had to work extremely hard as a player just to stay on teams, so he couldn’t tolerate those who didn’t share his work ethic or his passion for the game. Years later, he was coaching the Toronto Maple Leafs when Harold Ballard tossed me out of the Gardens, but Brophy called me aside and told me, “Paul, my door is always open for you.” I never forgot that.

  That season, Birmingham became known as the “Baby Bulls” because of how young some of the players were. Bassett had signed six eighteen-year-old players right out of junior hockey, including Rick Vaive, Rob Ramage, Craig Hartsburg, Michel Goulet, Gaston Gingras, and Pat Riggin. We also had Ken Linseman, Mark Napier, and Rod Langway. This strategy angered the NHL to no end, but it afforded these young kids a chance to get into pro hockey right away, and most of them did very well despite their tender ages and the fact they were playing in a pretty tough hockey league.

  But despite all their potential, we just weren’t good enough to compete with more experienced teams. We won thirty-two games and finished in last place. I had twenty-four goals and twenty-seven assists for fifty-one points, but we could see that the league was, in all probability, on its last legs. Talk of a merger between the NHL and WHA had been going on for quite a while, and while some teams seemed equipped to join the NHL, others certainly didn’t. The Indianapolis Racers dropped out of the league after twenty-five games, leaving just six team
s (we ended the season in sixth place). Playing for the Avco Cup sure didn’t match competing for a Stanley Cup, and due in part to a weakening American economy, the crowds had really shrunk in many of the WHA’S markets.

  That turned out to be the final season for the WHA, as the NHL agreed in March 1979 to swallow up four of the franchises – the Winnipeg Jets, New England Whalers, Quebec Nordiques, and Edmonton Oilers. Cincinnati and Birmingham didn’t make the cut.

  For the record, I thought the WHA was a pretty good league and that it was great for hockey players. It was a great place for young players to start their careers and for European players to get a chance to learn the North American game without the intense pressure of the National Hockey League. I was thirty-two years old when I jumped, and I was able to double my salary and enjoy many other benefits. I loved the guys and the coaches, and the games were so much fun they were almost like practices some nights.

  The WHA certainly did a lot for players’ salaries, which was a good thing for all players at the time. Up until then, players were at the mercy of the owners in the NHL, and the WHA provided a great alternative and some bargaining power – especially after Bobby Hull signed his million-dollar contract with the Winnipeg Jets and left Chicago. After I saw the way the Maple Leafs made Dave Keon fight over a small raise just to make $100,000 at the peak of his career, I realized the WHA would be a great thing for players’ paycheques.

  Some of hockey’s all-time greats played in the WHA, from Gordie Howe, to Bobby Hull, to Dave Keon, and the league started the careers of players like Wayne Gretzky, Mark Messier, John Tonelli, Mark Howe, Mike Gartner, and Mike Liut, to mention just a few. It was a unique and fascinating time in hockey history. But the league was over with, and as the 1979–80 season approached, I had to decide what Paul Henderson would do.

  I had thought about getting one more chance to play in the NHL before I retired, and I felt that I could still contribute at that level. But at the same time, I was extremely happy in Birmingham and, just as important for me at this stage of my life, so were Eleanor and the kids.

  Cliff Fletcher, the general manager of the Atlanta Flames, called me during the off-season with an offer to join the Flames. It was tempting, but I wanted to stay in Birmingham, where the Flames’ farm team would now be located. I signed, but with the proviso that I would stay in Birmingham and mentor the young kids in the lineup there. If the Flames ran into problems at any point in the season and needed me, I would go there – the two cities were about one hundred miles apart. It was a perfect solution for me and my family.

  It was a decent year for me in Birmingham too, as I had seventeen goals and eighteen assists for thirty-five points in forty-seven games while helping Atlanta’s future prospects develop. And sure enough, about halfway through the season, the Flames called me back up to the NHL.

  It was a great thrill to be back in the NHL once again, a long-time removed from my years with the Red Wings and Maple Leafs. I got into thirty games that season and had seven goals and six assists for thirteen points. Two of those goals came in the same game, and that game turned out to be the last one I would ever play on Maple Leaf Gardens ice.

  With my mother and family and friends in the crowd, I beat Toronto goaltender Mike Palmateer twice and was named the game’s first star in a 5–2 win over the Leafs. As I was announced as the game’s first star and took a skate out onto the Gardens ice, I realized that it was a fantastic way for me to end my last game in Toronto.

  RON ELLIS ON HENDERSON’S RETURN TO MAPLE LEAF GARDENS

  When Birmingham developed closer ties with the Atlanta Flames, Paul was called up to Atlanta and had a chance to play in the NHL once again. Well, they call him up just in time to play against us (the Maple Leafs) in Toronto. Paul tells the story here, but really I remember sitting on the bench that night just shaking my head. He was a good friend, I was so happy for him, but he comes back to Maple Leaf Gardens to play the Leafs, and what does he do? He scores a pair of goals and is named the game’s first star! That game is so typical of Paul Henderson and what he is all about. He always did come up big in big situations. He beat my team that night, but I was really happy for my friend to play so well in a game like that.

  Life was pretty good. I had the best of both worlds, getting another crack at the NHL after all those years and still keeping my home base in Birmingham, where Eleanor was working and thriving. As the 1980–81 season approached, however, there was news that the Flames were moving to Calgary. It would be another twenty years before big-league hockey returned to the Deep South.

  As I’ve stated earlier, I loved Birmingham and the people there. It really turned out to be a great place for me and my family for a lot of reasons, and the friends we had there were terrific. I can’t say enough about how much I enjoyed the environment there.

  But I also have to be honest: I don’t think hockey will ever go in the South. The sport is just not in people’s blood there like it is here in Canada. It was popular for a while when I played there, but when the economy went south, so did hockey. I can only imagine how tough it would be to have a team there now. It sure was tough for the owners of the Thrashers, who sold the team to Winnipeg interests.

  I mean no disrespect by saying that, but I am also very partial to hockey here in Canada. I would love to see a team in Quebec City again, and I was very supportive of Winnipeg before they got their team back. We have a passion for hockey in this country that cannot be matched. I even think there should be another team in southwestern Ontario. There is no doubt that a place like Hamilton or Kitchener could easily support an NHL team – or even a second team in Toronto, perhaps. When you see the interest and the passion for hockey in this part of the county, it doesn’t make any sense to try to put teams in places that don’t have that love of the game.

  The Flames’ impending move meant another decision for me. Fletcher offered me a two-year contract to to Calgary. He envisioned me as a role player, a veteran who could still see spot duty and come and work with the young kids on the team.

  It was tempting. Calgary was, and still is, a great Canadian hockey city, and it would have been neat to be a part of the NHL coming there. But Eleanor and the kids clearly did not want to move again, so I declined and stayed in Birmingham for one more year, playing once again for John Brophy.

  I knew the end of my career was nearing, and I decided it was time to put my family first. I didn’t want to be a third- or fourth-line player, so I made what I consider to be the right decision for me at that time.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE BEST THING ABOUT SITTING DOWN AND LOOKING back over a life in hockey is the realization that I have been very fortunate in my career to have been able to play with and against some of the greatest players in NHL history. So I want to share some stories about these great players with you.

  I am often asked to name the players I feel are the greatest players I ever played with, or against, in my career. I certainly don’t have to think about that question very long. Right from the start, I was surrounded by hockey’s legendary names. When I first came up to the Detroit Red Wings, we had seven Hall of Famers in our lineup. Seven! Terry Sawchuk in goal, Marcel Pronovost and Bill Gadsby on defence, and Norm Ullman, Alex Delvecchio, Gordie Howe, and Ted Lindsay up front. What a team we had there!

  Imagine what a thrill it was for me the first time I walked into that dressing room and saw those guys. I made sure I got their autographs as I admired all of those great players so much, and to have had the chance to play with them all at the same time, well, that was something pretty special.

  Bobby Orr was the greatest defenceman of my era, and probably the best to ever play the position. Goalies? Take your pick – Terry Sawchuk, Johnny Bower, Jacques Plante, Glenn Hall, and Gump Worsley – and I played with three of them – were all outstanding. Gordie Howe was known as Mr. Hockey and could do it all, and Jean Beliveau was one of my heroes – such a classy guy and a skilled player. The muscular Bobby Hull, racing down t
he wing and blasting slap shots at petrified goaltenders, was poetry in motion. But at the centre of my admiration and respect is the entire roster of Team Canada 1972 – a diverse group that Harry Sinden and John Ferguson melded into a team.

  The generations of players that have come along since I retired are also outstanding – particularly Wayne Gretzky, Mario Lemieux, and Paul Coffey – but when you think about the players I faced like Orr, Sawchuk, Howe, Hull, Beliveau, et cetera, they were truly legendary players.

  I guess I should say a few more words about Gordie Howe, the greatest player I ever played with. His nickname, Mr. Hockey, basically says it all. Howe was such a talented player and tremendous goal scorer, but it was the physical element of his game that separated him from the rest. Frankly, everybody was afraid of him, and with good reason – if you crossed him, he was liable to take your head off with one of those patented elbows of his!

  Gordie loved playing the game, which explains why he played it for so long. He never gave up. I played against him in the WHA, and he played better at age fifty-one than he did when he was in his mid-thirties. He really was amazing.

  When we were playing the Russians in Moscow in 1974, some guy took a run at Marty Howe, one of Gordie’s sons. I watched it happen and thought immediately, This is not going to be good for you, buddy! Gordie took his number, and the next time they were on the ice together, Gordie gave him a two-hander across his forearm. The next day, the Russian player showed up at the arena with his arm in a cast. That was Gordie Howe – he took no prisoners, especially if you went after one of his sons.