time, but Mr. McCrory was the first to come by the house. We sat down and he talked to my parents while I mostly listened. The talk went on for a while as he explained what the New York Rangers could do for me and what it would be like to attend the team’s training camp. In the end, he asked if I wanted to travel to Winnipeg later that summer, when the Rangers would be holding camp with players from the big club. I’d never set foot out of Saskatchewan and certainly hadn’t been anywhere on my own. I was just a fifteen-year-old kid, and a shy one at that, but I loved hockey more than anything and the thought of skating with some of the best players in the world trumped my nervousness. I agreed to make the trip to Winnipeg and we’d see where things went from there.
Until that point, the farthest away from Saskatoon I’d ever been was Regina, about 150 miles south, and that was only once for a hockey game. It doesn’t seem too far now, but when I’d gone there the year before it had felt like a world away. It was my first road trip with teammates and we were excited about it for weeks. What could be better than traveling with your friends to play hockey? Getting on the train to Winnipeg was different. I was alone on an overnight trip to another province more than five hundred miles away. When the train pulled into the station in Winnipeg, no one from the team was there to meet me. I asked for directions to the Marlborough Hotel, where they’d told me I was staying, and found my way over. My roommate was a goaltending prospect, but we didn’t get to know each other very well. Early in camp, he took a puck in themouth and that was it for him. I ended up staying alone, which didn’t help the feelings of isolation that had already set in.
The Rangers held training camp at the Amphitheatre, a big old arena in Winnipeg that was knocked down in the mid-1950s and replaced by the Winnipeg Arena. Now even that’s gone, and the Jets play in a new building downtown. On the first day of camp, I remember being nervous as I walked from the hotel to the Amphitheatre. My nerves didn’t settle down once I got there. The first person I went to see after I signed in was the trainer, who handed out the equipment. All I’d brought with me were my skates, so I needed to be outfitted from top to bottom. To his frustration, I couldn’t answer many of his questions. I didn’t even know my size. When he asked what position I played, I said, “All of ’em,” because it was true. I’d played goalie, defenseman, and forward. I don’t know if he thought I was some kind of smart-ass or what, but he needed to get me out the door so he asked what position I’d like to play. I honestly didn’t know why the Rangers had brought me in, so I told him defenseman. I was comfortable on the blue line and figured I’d have as good a shot playing there as anywhere else. After being on the right wing for so many decades, it’s strange to think that my first tryout as a professional hockey player was on defense. After seeing the trainer, my day went only further downhill.
Growing up, we couldn’t afford proper equipment, so I didn’t know what to do with all of the pads and protectors I’d just been given. I sat on a bench in the dressing room with my gear on the floor in front of me and just stared at it for a while. I’d never worn a garter belt before, for one, so I didn’t know what it was for or how to put it on. I was also too shy to ask. Some of the other younger prospects noticed and started hacking on me for just sitting there looking confused. I didn’t like that too much. Who would? It remindedme of my younger days when kids would tease me at school. I just wanted to figure it all out and get on the ice, where I knew what I was doing. One of the veterans, Alf Pike, eventually came in and sat down across from me. It was a godsend at the time. I watched Alf and mirrored his every move. He put on his right shin pad and I put on my
Until that point, the farthest away from Saskatoon I’d ever been was Regina, about 150 miles south, and that was only once for a hockey game. It doesn’t seem too far now, but when I’d gone there the year before it had felt like a world away. It was my first road trip with teammates and we were excited about it for weeks. What could be better than traveling with your friends to play hockey? Getting on the train to Winnipeg was different. I was alone on an overnight trip to another province more than five hundred miles away. When the train pulled into the station in Winnipeg, no one from the team was there to meet me. I asked for directions to the Marlborough Hotel, where they’d told me I was staying, and found my way over. My roommate was a goaltending prospect, but we didn’t get to know each other very well. Early in camp, he took a puck in themouth and that was it for him. I ended up staying alone, which didn’t help the feelings of isolation that had already set in.
The Rangers held training camp at the Amphitheatre, a big old arena in Winnipeg that was knocked down in the mid-1950s and replaced by the Winnipeg Arena. Now even that’s gone, and the Jets play in a new building downtown. On the first day of camp, I remember being nervous as I walked from the hotel to the Amphitheatre. My nerves didn’t settle down once I got there. The first person I went to see after I signed in was the trainer, who handed out the equipment. All I’d brought with me were my skates, so I needed to be outfitted from top to bottom. To his frustration, I couldn’t answer many of his questions. I didn’t even know my size. When he asked what position I played, I said, “All of ’em,” because it was true. I’d played goalie, defenseman, and forward. I don’t know if he thought I was some kind of smart-ass or what, but he needed to get me out the door so he asked what position I’d like to play. I honestly didn’t know why the Rangers had brought me in, so I told him defenseman. I was comfortable on the blue line and figured I’d have as good a shot playing there as anywhere else. After being on the right wing for so many decades, it’s strange to think that my first tryout as a professional hockey player was on defense. After seeing the trainer, my day went only further downhill.
Growing up, we couldn’t afford proper equipment, so I didn’t know what to do with all of the pads and protectors I’d just been given. I sat on a bench in the dressing room with my gear on the floor in front of me and just stared at it for a while. I’d never worn a garter belt before, for one, so I didn’t know what it was for or how to put it on. I was also too shy to ask. Some of the other younger prospects noticed and started hacking on me for just sitting there looking confused. I didn’t like that too much. Who would? It remindedme of my younger days when kids would tease me at school. I just wanted to figure it all out and get on the ice, where I knew what I was doing. One of the veterans, Alf Pike, eventually came in and sat down across from me. It was a godsend at the time. I watched Alf and mirrored his every move. He put on his right shin pad and I put on my
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