By Jack Blatherwick
Let’s Play Hockey Columnist

It was Groundhog Day, and the sun was so bright, there was no doubt about the shadow. In fact, to keep the sun from ruining the outside ice, we had to skip part of first hour math class to shovel snow onto the rink. That’s not a misprint. I meant, “onto the rink,” not off.

You had to be there to understand the logic. As usual, we had shoveled and flooded after practice the night before, but the game next day was special, so we flooded five really thin coats to make the ice like glass. There was a special art to making perfect ice with a big fire hose, one of those hockey skills that was replaced when Frank Zamboni put his first resurfacers on top of a jeep.

Even though the temperature was perfect for outside ice, the February sun would melt the ice along the north side, where it reflects down from the boards. There were huge banks of snow outside the boards – like 10 feet high – because that winter we had to shovel snow every day before skating. At least it seemed like every day.

That’s why this particular game was special. No snow was forecast; no wind; and temperatures just above zero. There would be perfect ice if we protected it from the sun until game time. This was also a big rival, not a championship game, because no one kept track of such things in those days. Athletic directors were too busy with basketball.

Fierce competition meant battling for pucks and making skillful plays – or in my case, trying to stop skillful plays. Sportsmanship had nothing to do with a fake handshake at the end of a violent game filled with trash talk. We hadn’t learned yet how cool trash talk could be. Sportsmanship meant that you and two opponents joined shovels to push the snow to the side, where others from both teams waited with scoop shovels to throw the snow high atop the pile.

I mean really high. That year, the snowbank that went completely around the rink was so high we couldn’t see the school from center ice. Spectators loved the view from atop a mountain of snow.

No one thought about yelling at referees, because they were the good guys who helped shovel between periods. There weren’t many penalties because players actually tried to win within the rules. By late winter, the blue lines were so far under the thick ice, that offsides was more a matter of mutual agreement than enforcement.

Sportsmanship meant sitting in the same warming house with your opponents, stocking feet up on the same wood-burning stove. It meant that the spectators shoveled just as much snow as the players.

Crosschecks and high sticks didn’t exist, because no one wore a face mask. In fact, if your stick happened to slide up and touch someone above the waist, you invariably apologized on the fly before playing the puck. Goalies didn’t have masks, and if they were down on the ice, you wouldn’t shoot anywhere near their face.

Forechecking meant skating super hard to get the puck. “Playing the body,” was achieving body position and cutting off the opponent’s hands from the puck. “Running the opposing D through the glass,” was an alternative way of winning that wouldn’t arrive until decades later. Maybe that’s because there was no glass, just chicken wire, or if you had an extra-good rink, it was chain link fence.

Hitting someone hard into the boards was never considered part of the game. It would have meant they’d break a leg or end up in the snowbank, because by February, the ice was so thick the boards were only about three feet high.

Hockey scores didn’t make the newspaper, because it was filled up with basketball. There was no Let’s Play Hockey. No rankings. Just high speed, creative plays … well, that was the winning team.

I don’t remember who won that Groundhog day. We battled hard, shoveled harder and actually thought of the opponents as friends, not enemies. Competition was fierce with pride and prestige on the line, not a cheap trophy for a weekend tournament.

The day was memorable because of beautiful ice, skates, sticks, creative plays and frozen pucks that would break if you shot one hard off the goal post. It was memorable because referees, coaches, players and spectators joined in to shovel the snow and warm their toes over the same fire.

Our opponent that day was Roosevelt High School, with head coach Bob Johnson, who went on to win numerous ‘big-time’ championships and Cups at Wisconsin, Calgary and Pittsburgh. But, to this eventual hockey legend the words ‘big-time’ meant skillful, creative competition on great ice, no matter if it was the Saddledome in the last game of the Stanley Cup Playoffs or the outdoor rink he shoveled between periods.

As we huddled around the wood-burning stove, Coach Johnson gave his short pep talk to both teams, “It’s a great day for hockey, boys, so let’s get back out there and go at it.” 

Visit Jack’s website at www.overspeed.info.