Locomotive to the Past, George Schultz [snow like ashes series txt] 📗

the joint! And then, there was Red Kelly… and Alex Delvecchio! And… my favorites… ’The Slobber Line! That was made up… of Metro Prystai, Marty Pavelich, and Jimmy Peters. And, hell… all the rest of ’em! People like Bob Goldham! So many… ah… wonderful spirits! All of ’em… in that big Old Barn,” Grandpa would consistently (and sadly) comment.

Jason would sometimes marvel at the incredible degree, of out and out, pure, regret evident, that had always consumed the old man—whenever he spoke of such things. (Which, of course, had been often.)

Jason had, of course, heard of Gordie Howe. (Who hadn’t? In Detroit, anyway!) The lad had been aware of Mr. Howe—from, approximately, the moment he’d vaulted from Sheila’s womb. Again, who hadn’t? “Mr. Hockey” had, from time to time, popped up, occasionally—even on 2001 television. He still did a few commercials. An interview every now and then. A true gentleman! And a helluva hockey player!

He and Abel and Lindsay had combined—to form the world-famous, unmatched, “Production Line”, in the late-forties, and early-fifties. At one time, they’d finished one, two, and three—in the season’s scoring, in the entire NHL.

Their fame had lived on, in Detroit—even into the 21st century. As had the legend of Sawchuck—who’d died such a tragic death, in the sixties, while playing for the New York Rangers! Regrettably, he’d been a mere shell—of his former, unbeatable, self by then! A semi-haunted mirage, of his star-crossed self—for the final three or four years, of his unfortunate, tragedy-filled, life!

Beset by many personal troubles, and—it was rumored—a goodly number of bouts, with the bottle, he’d never regained the form that he’d displayed, in Detroit! Especially in his first NHL years! He’d been, arguably, as good as any goalie who had ever lived—year after year, in the early-fifties! He was the acknowledged “backbone”—of the Wings’ then-unprecedented 8-game run, to win the Stanley Cup, in 1952. First time that any team had gone undefeated—throughout the entire playoffs!

Of course, until the National Hockey League’s expansion, in 1967—there had been only two best-of-seven rounds, in those “Original Six” years. And the 1951/1952 Motor City crew had reeled off eight straight victories—to claim the Cup! The Montreal Canadiens would duplicate the Wings’ feat—a few years later. But, that fabled—Sawchuck-led—Red Wings team had been the very first! A never-ending source of unmitigated pride—had been felt! Throughout the entire Detroit metropolitan area!

The Detroit club had swept the Toronto Maple Leafs, in the opening series—and then had gone four-games-to-none against the vaunted Canadiens. To a man, the Montreal players had always claimed that the sole reason that they’d gotten blown out—was the “miraculous” work, in goal—of one Terry Sawchuck!

“We were getting past the Wings players… all of ’em,” they would complain, “only to be stopped… by Sawchuck! He was phenomenal!” Many of the Canadiens veterans would claim that they’d never seen such remarkable goaltending—“game after game after game”! And the Montreal club had featured many outstanding netminders, in their fabled history. Their Bill Durnan had been considered the best—for most of the forties.

Many claimed that—for that one 8-game, post-season, stretch—Sawchuck was, far and away, the greatest goalie, who’d ever lived! He’d posted four shutouts in the eight games—and had allowed but one goal in the other four. Incredible! Grandpa Piepczyk had taken in the opening game, of the Montreal series—and had acknowledged, many times over, that what the Canadiens players were saying had been “the absolute truth”!

And now! Tonight! Now—tonight—Jason would be able to enter that truly-sanctified, Olympia. That “cathedral”! The one, that his grandfather had spoken of so often—and always with a substantially-warm, far-away, glow, in his, serene-for-that-moment, eyes! Always!

Somehow or another—once inside this “sanctuary”—Our Hero had really expected more! Actually, so much more! The building, on the outside and the inside, seemed so—well, so plain!

In addition, every fan was decked out—in “civvies”! In this obviously-basic, much-more-simple, uncomplicated, wholly-less-commercialized, pre-merchandising-for-everything, era, there were absolutely no replica Red Wings jerseys available—at something like $139.00 each! None—at any price! Jason—used to seeing the Joe Louis Arena, decked out, in a sea of red, throughout the stands (as far as the eye could see)—could not believe, that there’d not be one “authentic” Wings jersey. None—in evidence! Not in the entire arena! Nary a one! Amazing!

Of course, he’d not expected to see a plethora of such jerseys—sporting Steve Yserman’s name, and number. He would not become a city-wide icon—till the nineties! But, shouldn’t there be a whole host of “Mud” Bruneteau jerseys? Syd Howe jerseys? There was no such item available—in his “new” epoch. Incredible! Totally incredible!

And no one painted their face red! No scarlet “Afro” wigs! Amazing! None of the kind-of-goofy “Wing Nut” headgears!

This foray into early-forties National Hockey League play-style would, quite obviously, require some real adaptation—on the part of Our Boy.

Grandpa had spoken—“early and often”, as they say—about the “Original Six Team League”. Yet, Jason had discovered (mere days before) that, until recently, the NHL had been an eight team league. It was still a seven team league—although that figure would change, at the end of the 1941-42 season.

The Montreal Maroons had resided in the NHL from 1924 till 1938—when they’d folded! And the Hamilton Tigers had relocated—to (would you believe?) New York City—in 1925. There—to become the New York Americans.

The financially-troubled franchise then became the Brooklyn Americans—prior to the 1941/42 season. That would be their last campaign! The team would fold—at the end of the campaign! So, the “Original Six Team League” would not take form—until the following season! All news—to the bemused young man!

So, Jason was going to have to adapt—to a completely different league! One that was totally unlike the 30-team organization—to which he’d been so used.

There were no Mighty Ducks, no Avalanche, no Sharks, no Flyers, no Penguins, no Canucks, no Devils, no Islanders, no Sabres—nor any of the other 24 teams that had entered the league during, and after, the original expansion year, of 1967.

In addition to having to fathom an entirely different league structure, Our Boy was going to behold an entirely different—pre-Gordie