Hockey Towns

by Ron MacLean

  Early the next morning the phone rang, and Jordan wanted to puke. If you got a call, it meant you’d been cut. He couldn’t believe it when he picked up and the team asked for a meeting with Cody. Forty minutes later, Cody returned with good news—he’d been made an alternate captain. The phone didn’t ring again that morning. Jordan was playing for Team Canada.

  Quinn gave Jordan the tap. He stood at centre ice, playing with the puck. Drifting a bit, looking down the ice at Russian goalie Vadim Zhelobynyuk, trying to breathe. At practice just a little over a week earlier on Christmas Day, they had worked on shootouts and Jordan had scored five out of six times. The television crew said he had a “hot stick.” He came straight down the middle, left-right, left-right, left-right, left-right. Zhelobynyuk tried to poke check him about eight feet out, and in less than a wink, Jordan switched to his backhand and put it up over Zhelobynyuk’s blocker.

  John Tavares scored on his attempt while Canada’s goalie, Tokarski, stood firm. The team went on to beat Sweden in the gold medal final.

  At the post-tournament celebration with the team’s families, Pat Quinn invited a few of the players, including Jordan, Tyler Ennis and Zach Boychuk, to step outside with him. Sixteen-year-old Dustin Eberle, Jordan’s brother, tagged along. Pat passed around some big cigars and Dustin lit up for the first time. The three players stood there, smoking and shooting the breeze with one of the greatest coaches ever.

  Jordan was back on the team in 2010 for the IIHF World Junior Championship in Saskatoon on Boxing Day. Canada’s chances for a record sixth straight win were looking good. Late in the third period of the final against the USA, Jordan scored twice to force an overtime, but the Americans scored on a three-on-one, taking home the gold.

  Always hard on himself, Jordan was crushed. Defeat was unacceptable. He hated losing to the Americans like that. He was sure his career was over. His family had never seen him so down over a loss. The Hockey Canada team after-party was more like a funeral. But in 2012, a panel of twenty-five experts voted Jordan the number one player in Team Canada’s history at the World Juniors.

  Jordan was projected to be a late first-round or early second-round pick in the 2008 NHL Entry Draft. He didn’t really believe it and was joking around with Dustin about it. But behind the scenes, his old power-skating coach’s dad, Lorne Davis, and his son Brad, also an Oilers scout, had been watching Jordan closely for years.

  On draft day in June 2008, there was a chair left empty at the Oilers’ table in honour of Lorne Davis, who had died of cancer and cardiac arrest six months earlier. Former Oiler Glenn Anderson came to the podium and announced that the team’s next pick was Lorne’s last recommendation. Jordan waited, but the cameras had already swung around and were pointed at him, so he knew, and so did his family. Lisa started to jump up, and Darren laughingly hauled her back down until it was official.

  When Jordan was nine years old, he was on the Saskatchewan Wheatlanders, a summer program Darren was running with his friend Claude Wickenheiser (Doug’s brother) as one of the organizers. Jeff Schenn (father of Luke and Brayden of the Philadelphia Flyers) was running the provincial team, the Saskatchewan Hustlin’ Huskies, up in Saskatoon. Their kids came from Saskatoon North because Regina had the Wheatlanders. But the Huskies had an in for the Brick Super Novice Hockey Tournament, the biggest novice tournament in Canada, which is held in the West Edmonton Mall.

  The Wheatlanders were in a mini-tournament in Regina, where Jordan scored seven goals and had two assists. The coach of the Vancouver Vipers was at the rink and invited him to come play at the Brick Tournament with Travis Hamonic (now with the New York Islanders), goalie Martin Jones (San Jose Sharks), Tyler Johnson (Tampa Bay Lightning) and Derek Lee (a University of Wisconsin alum who has played pro in Europe).

  The Vipers ended up in the final against the Toronto Red Wings, whose lineup included Steve Stamkos (now with the Tampa Bay Lightning), Michael Del Zotto (Philadelphia Flyers), Cody Hodgson (Nashville Predators) and Alex Pietrangelo (St. Louis Blues). The Vipers won on Jordan’s overtime goal. He made the first all-star team, was top scorer of the tournament, and was named tournament MVP.

  Oilers president Kevin Lowe presented him with his trophies. Nine years later, he was presenting Jordan with his Oilers jersey.

  In 2010 Jordan was called up to the Oilers. His first game was against the Calgary Flames, and he scored his first NHL goal, beating Miikka Kiprusoff. It was one of his best so far—a shorthanded toe-drag, forward-to-backhand move. It made the highlight reels, but he was just happy to score. Despite all his success, Jordan’s not a cocky guy. He and Dustin still chirp back and forth.

  Dustin made it to the Junior A Melville Millionaires of the Saskatchewan Junior Hockey League but was sidelined by a big injury—a sliced Achilles tendon. But when he first moved away, Jordan was there for his brother on the phone, giving him advice, helping him out.

  Jordan loves rubbing it in that he was on Sidney Crosby’s wing at the IIHF World Championships in May 2015. And Dustin has a good time teasing Jordan about his okay guitar playing and awful singing. Jordan picked up the guitar, inspired by Darren, who is the lead guitarist for a classic rock band in Calgary called When Pigs Fly.

  On December 5, 2012, when Jordan was just twenty-two years old, the Pats retired his jersey, number 7. Most players are retired from hockey before their jersey is, so it was a shocker for him. He’d been playing with the Oklahoma City Barons during the NHL lockout, and so he flew home for the ceremony at the Brandt Centre. The sold-out crowd cheered him with a forty-five-second standing ovation as Jordan hugged his family, who joined him on the ice.

  When he was working his way up, a lot of people thought Jordan would never get there because of his size. So he was always bent on proving people wrong. He doesn’t have to do that anymore.

  Péribonka

  QUEBEC

  POPULATION:

  464

  Gou! Gou!

  I ran into Michel Goulet at an airport a few years ago, and I was impressed, both by his career and his down-to-earth attitude. And then, while shooting Hometown Hockey in the spring of 2015, I spent some time with him again. We hit the bar with Olympic diver Alexandre Despatie and former NHL players Enrico Ciccone and Jason York, and Michel kept us laughing with his stories. But one of his most appealing qualities was his refusal to take credit.

  In 1986, that quality got him in trouble. Montreal Canadiens hero Guy Lafleur had just retired for the first time, and the Quebec Nordiques had high hopes that Michel would be the new French-Canadian golden boy. A year earlier, Nordiques fans had been crying, “Gou! Gou! Gou! Gou!” every time the three-time fifty-goal scorer hit the ice. He ended the season with 104 points and was headed toward similar success in 1985–86, but his low-key style was rubbing Nordiques fans the wrong way. They were looking for some dash and dazzle, and the most Michel could muster after a big goal was to lift his arm.

  The Nordiques brass begged him to celebrate his goals more—jump up in the air, hit the glass, hell, they’d settle for a fist pump. Michel scratched his head. He felt the idea was to score goals and win the hockey game. He told them, “I’m very happy on the ice. Obviously, if I have to crash the window every time I score a goal, I might hurt myself.” But he agreed to try to “spice up” his style.

  He felt a little silly about it, but when he put the puck in, he’d jump a little bit and try to remember to smile. At first, it didn’t come naturally, but he scored so many goals that he got a lot of practice.

  And then there was a game on March 17, 1986, against Montreal, who would go on to win the Cup that year. The Nordiques were losing 3–0 after ten minutes, and the Montreal fans were already singing. Coach Michel Bergeron called a timeout to put his team back on track. The Nordiques turned it around, winning 8–6. Goulet scored four goals and had two assists against Patrick Roy. After he put the last one in, Michel jumped in the air and allowed himself a little dance.

  I wish I could speak French. Not much ex
tends past “Voilà, Monsieur Thibault.” But it would be a shame if any part of Michel’s story got lost in translation, so with his blessing and help, it is best to let him tell it to you like he told it to me.

  My hometown is Péribonka, Quebec. It is about three hours north of Quebec City. We had a rink outside, and when I start getting ready to play hockey, it was always with my brothers. I have seven brothers. I am number five, so it was easy to pick up a game somewhere.

  My dad was a very nice man—until he had enough. With eight boys he had a good grip on all of us. His name is Jean-Noël. He was born on the twenty-third of December and baptized on the twenty-fifth. That is why his parents call him “Young Christmas,” but sometimes we laugh that he was no gift, that is for sure. I think maybe my mom, Alphonsine, was a bit more in control. She had a way to get things done. Overall, they were very good parents. They turn ninety in the summer, so we are going to have a nice little party for them.

  That is where it all started—on our farm. We had cattle and potatoes for a long time, maybe twenty years. I didn’t work as much as some of the brothers because I would play peewee and bantam in a city about twenty miles away—Mistassini. It is a beautiful place. What happened there, the bigger-city scouts came over and they see a few games, and they ask me to join them. So I would play in two places, Mistassini—the big city—and with my little hometown team.

  I just loved the game. One night, February 11, 1971, I was eleven years old. Everyone was watching Hockey Night in Canada. We were waiting for Jean Béliveau to score his five-hundredth goal, and then he score against the North Stars that night. My mother was imagining how many goals I want to score in the NHL. And I said, “I am going to score as many as Mr. Béliveau!”

  In Mistassini, that is where they start a new league when I was fifteen years old. At that time, it was Midget C. They open a new arena in there, which gave us a chance to play inside. Every kid was so joyful. It was an unbelievable difference. But even better was to have the chance to play hockey outside and inside. That was really, really a great year.

  That’s where one of the part-time scouts from the Quebec Remparts saw me play. His name was Jean-Paul Gimael. The guy sold me all year to the team. I think he thought I could do a lot of things on the ice, especially scoring goals, and I could make the play.

  They followed me all winter to the junior draft, but no one knew at what round I’d get picked up—maybe second round, third round, maybe fourth round, I don’t know. So I went there and all of a sudden, number five! I got picked up first round. So I didn’t wait too long, that is for sure.

  Our coach was Mr. Ron Racette. Mr. Racette was officially a tough man. That was the old-time hockey there. He was amazing. I learned so much under his wing. I only play a year and a half, but that’s where it all started. Before I went to training camp, I called the Quebec Remparts because my skates were not the best, and so I ask for a new pair. They said, “Well, come to training camp and we can go from there. We will take it slow.” So I show up with my skates maybe two sizes too big for my feet. I’m a size 9 and my skates were about size 11. I play with those skates for about two years. We were growing up all the time, and my dad bought us bigger sizes so we don’t have to buy another pair. At training camp, everyone is looking at my feet, and a couple of days later the coach said, “Hey, get him a new pair of skates!” And you know what? I improved my skating 30 per cent with the new skates.

  I was a big shot going from Midget C to the major junior. But then I didn’t make my team at first! So I went back down to play Junior AAA in Beauport. At Christmas, one of the players of the Quebec Remparts said the coach was too hard on him, and he just left. Mr. Racette called me and said, “Come and play.” And that first game against Sorel, a big, tough team, we were losing 8–2 after two periods, but we won the game 9–8. I had three goals and three assists, so that is where Mr. Racette said, “You are not going to go down again, okay?”

  The second year, everything came to me a lot easier. And that is where I had seventy-three goals, sixty-two assists and we made the playoffs. I had just a great year there. It was awesome. After the year, Mr. Gilles Leger, the general manager of the Birmingham Bulls of the World Hockey Association, came over to talk to me. The Bulls at the time, they signed Ricky Vaive, Rob Ramage, Craig Hartsburg, Gaston Gingras, Louis Sleigher, Pat Riggin the goaltender—a bunch of young guys, and he want me to be a part of it. I said, “You know what? I feel ready.” So I was eighteen when I move to Birmingham, Alabama.

  It was a big, nice city down south. For me, the game is still the same. It doesn’t matter where you go, but I don’t speak English so it was interesting, for sure. The first day I was in a restaurant, it was an eye-opener. Sometime I would just point to things on the menu. Obviously, a steak is a steak, but to order it cook the way I like was very challenging. On the other side, it was fun. I was just laughing and enjoying the experience I was having.

  Mr. Brophy, “Broph,” was the coach. He was a big teacher for all of us because we were all so young. First, he wasn’t playing me a lot—I was on the fourth line. Then one day we were practising. He did a drill and the first line go, and the second line go and the third line go, and he move to the middle to start the next drill, but he forget there is a fourth line. Our left winger is cutting to the middle, and I go for a little breakaway and I just friggin’ hit Brophy so hard, it was unbelievable. All I see is white hair flying in the air. He land on his elbow. I don’t know how many stitches he need, but ah, my God, I am so worried. He turn around and he look at me and he said, “Oh . . . you’re a strong boy!” He was such a hockey man. So at the end of the day, he move me up with Rick Adduono and Rick Vaive. At the end of the season, I had the most goals for the team and I can see myself progressing, getting better.

  November 26, 1978, my first game for Birmingham against New England, we play against the Howe family, Gordie and his son, Marty. Well, Marty, he cross-check a player a couple of times, and so I was like, “Hey, hey, what are you doing?”

  And he said, “Hey, you want to go?”

  I’m like, “Okay.” If you knock at the door, I will open it up, you know? So I have a pretty good fight against Marty. I pumped him two good punches in the face and he goes down.

  The next shift on the ice after my five-minute major, Gordie got kicked out of the draw and he stand on the right side of me. I’m like, “Hmm,” and I’m thinking about all the stories I have heard, so I move a couple of steps away from him. And I’m watching the puck when all of a sudden I get this stick in my rib and I’m on the ice. I’m thinking, “Oh my God, what happened?” And Gordie lean down to me and he says, “Don’t touch my son.” You should have seen the eyes on him. My God, that man had a dangerous air. What was he? Fifty years old at the time? I mean, I am eighteen years old, so wow, what do you do? I don’t slash him, I don’t spear him, I respect him. Look at what he did, what he accomplished and how long he play. He was a natural, he was big, and he was strong as a horse.

  But he made me pay for two years until he retire. Two punches I had given to his son, and he fed me his elbows, knees and sticks. Twenty years later, when I got inducted into the Hall of Fame, my son Vincent was thirteen years old. He shake hands with Gordie and he says, “Mr. Howe, why did you spear my dad?”

  And like it was yesterday for Gordie, he says, “Well, my son didn’t really know how to fight.”

  The WHA had their young guys like us and Gretzky and Messier. They tried to force the NHL to merge with their teams in 1979. Four teams did that—Hartford, Quebec, Edmonton and Winnipeg. But Birmingham folded, and so that was interesting, that’s for sure. It mean the 1979 NHL draft was a big year. There was Rob Ramage, Mike Foligno, Ricky Vaive, Keith Brown, Craig Hartsburg, Perry Turnbull, Brian Propp, Laurie Boschman—everybody played that year.

  Rob Ramage went first round. It’s always harder to find a good defenceman than a good forward. That is something that everyone knows in hockey. Rob Ramage had a great, great first year.
He was built like a man already. He was nineteen years old and he was strong and he play a solid game.

  I went number twenty, which is awesome. I mean, at the end of the day, it’s just nice to have the chance to be recognized by a team that wants you, you know? And so it happens that was the Quebec Nordiques.

  I had an agent at the time who really wanted me to play for the Nordiques, and listen, I think he gambled a little bit. He said that I am not going to report unless I play there. But in my mind, I would be happy to report anywhere. If the Chicago Blackhawks draft me, sorry, I am going! But it was on his agenda a little bit and so after the draft I let him go. It was just politics and I didn’t want to be involved with that kind of stuff. So it looked like I was the bad guy. But at the end of the day, I had ten beautiful years in Quebec.

  Jacques Demers was the coach the first year, and I learn a lot. He was an amazing man, a guy passionate about hockey and about life. I thought I had a pretty decent first year. He put me with the checking line all year, and I finish the season with twenty-two goals. He help me focus on offence and defence at the same time. In 1981–82, I tied with Wayne Gretzky for shorthanded goals. So me and Wayne, we’re practising our defence!

  My second year, I play under Maurice Filion. He was the team manager and decide to coach a little bit. He didn’t last long. He was looking for a coach. Michel Bergeron came maybe a month later. He was my coach for six years after that.

  Michel Bergeron had a totally different philosophy about hockey than Jacques Demers. Michel let the skill talk a little bit. We make the playoffs, and that was big news in Quebec. It was fun because of the storied rivalry between Quebec and Montreal. It got bigger and bigger and bigger every game. The Montreal Forum was always something really special, with the big history and the glamour that they have over there. In those ten years I was with Quebec, I thought those games were the best. They were the most intense.