A Hockey Road Well Traveled: Memoirs of a Master Coach

By Martin G Kavanaugh

A Hockey Road Well Traveled tells of a Midwest boy from a basketball State, who fell in love with the game of hockey that was traditionally reserved for those from the North. A Hockey Road takes you on a youths journey from skating on ponds as a child to a young adult starving to see NHL games, and his many trips to see his beloved Boston Bruins, some who have been honored in this book by chapter numbers with their corresponding jersey number. A Hockey Road takes you through 16 years of youth hockey with the author's two sons from the beginning of house league, to the National Finals of PeeWee hockey, through High School and the Junior A leagues and decisions made along the way. Its about a coaches two sons and their teammates who strove to be the best, their roads traveled, and the highs and lows along the way.

A Hockey Road takes you inside the Board Of Directors of youth leagues. It tells of a dads journey from becoming a Master Coach, meeting USA Olympic coaches, to buying a Pro Shop, to coaching sixteen seasons, and finally sitting back and watching the accolades bestowed on his boys as they aged and improved their hockey skills. Read about the life learning and educational experiences on hockey's road that takes the reader on hockey trips to Canada, The White House, The Gulf War, NASA Space Museums, and even Glasnost and Perestroika in Eastern Europe. Ride along as Hockey Road takes you from the Midwest to a hundred cities in search of competition and becoming the best. And how a boy from Indiana can make it in professional hockey.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Aug 10, 2009
• ISBN: 9781449003272

Martin G Kavanaugh

Marty Kavanaugh was born in 1953. He was the third son of Jim and Phyllis Kavanaugh. He has five brothers and two sisters. They were raised in a traditional Catholic family in Indianapolis. Marty was never a gifted student yet enjoyed twelve years of Catholic education at St. Andrew Grade School and Bishop Chatard High School in Indianapolis, where he has been a lifelong resident. He has found writing to be pleasurable as an adult, which would surprise many of his old teachers and classmates. “Mr. Satisfactory” is his second book following “A Hockey Road Well Traveled” published in 2009. Marty and his wife, Ginger, of forty-one years are proud of their three children and enjoy the love and company of three grandchildren. To date, we have nineteen nieces and nephews and fifteen great-nieces and great-nephews. Marty likes a variety of sports, particularly golf and hockey. He enjoys travel and eating out at restaurants and loves going to the movies. Though still working, he looks forward to the golden years with his family.

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© 2010 Martin G Kavanaugh. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse    3/18/2010

ISBN: 978-1-4490-0327-2 (e)

ISBN: 978-1-4490-0325-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4490-0326-5 (hc)

Printed in the United States of America

Bloomington, Indiana

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Table of Contents

         Chapter                               Honored Players

1 -      The Birth of Hockey                   Pete Peeters

2 -      150 Causeway St.                        Brad Park

3 -      Board Of Directors                     Lionel Hitchman

4 -      The Snowbirds                            Bobby Orr

5 -      C.A.P.                                         Dit Clapper

6 -      Summer Hockey                         Ted Green

7 -      Hockey Plus                               Ray Bourque

8 -      The Racers                                  Ken Hodge

9 -      Leadership                                  John Bucyk

10 -    Silver Sticks                                Jean Ratelle

11 -    Championship Season               Steve Kasper

12 -    The Road To Perfection             Wayne Cashman

13 -    Trolley Tracks                            Ken Linseman

14 -    Number Four                             Normand Leveille

15 -    Hoosier Success                         Milt Schmidt

16 -    The Road Back To Boston          Rick Middleton

17 -    Overtime, Overdue                     Stan Jonathan

 1

 Pete Peeters

The Birth of Hockey

We all know that hockey was born in the 1800’s in Canada, but I’m talking about my introduction to the game. How would I discover the great game? Everyone has a starting point where they are introduced to something they love. For me, hockey had multiple births. I was born in Indianapolis in 1953, and it was natural to play all organized sports. At that time there were only three sports that would comprise of all. Baseball, basketball, and football. We grew up as Catholics and sports leagues were run by the churches or schools. There were city leagues called the CYO. Catholic Youth Organization. Basketball and football were CYO. There was plenty of baseball right inside our own school to have very competitive house leagues. We attended the largest school in the city. Some kids in the neighborhood (non Catholics) played baseball in organized Little League. For us, that was not necessary.

We would field six teams in our age group and it was extremely high skilled and competitive. 5th and 6th graders would form one league and 7th and 8th graders would form another. All games were played on our two fields at school. We are a basketball state, but it seemed everyone played organized baseball. If there were youth hockey leagues, we didn’t know it. Heck, we didn’t even know to ask about it. In my younger grade school days, I knew what hockey was, but I never considered it as a sport to play in an organized manner.

My first birth of hockey was dictated by the weather and a neighborhood with enough kids and interest in going out and having fun on the ice in spite of freezing our rear ends off. We would wait for the weather to turn cold, the pond to freeze, which was about a ½ mile from the house, and we would strap on the skates and play. The pond was called Devon Lake and we lived in an area of town called Devon Woods. It was a smallish, shallow pond, and would freeze easily with some sustained cold weather. If there weren’t enough skates to go around, we would slide around on our shoes. But we definitely had skates at the house. I don’t know where the skates came from. I don’t remember if they fit. I’m sure some of them were figure skates. Whites and blacks alike. We could see the difference in a figure skate from a hockey skate but we didn’t understand the difference. Figure skates were actually easier to use. You could stand still, stick the toe pick in the ice and not glide away as if a magnet were pulling you. You had to be a better skater in order to use the hockey skate. I’m sure we used whatever fit the best. No one cared about style or even color. I was the third of 6 brothers and 2 sisters and there just seemed to be everything we would ever need in terms of equipment regardless of what sport or activity we played. Mostly the pond hockey was with the neighborhood kids and my two older brothers, Mike and Tim. Equipment consisted of skates and a stick. There were no pads or gloves. We put our mittens on and away we go. A couple of rocks or logs were quite handy as a goal. There was also an empty lot across the street from our house. It must have been low ground. When it rained, it looked like a pond. When cold weather followed a good rain, we could virtually walk across the street to play. One thing’s for sure, it seems like the ponds froze a lot more often back then than it does these days. That’s not a vote for global warming. Just a feeling. When I look back, I wonder, where did the pucks come from? Where did the sticks come from? Did we use sticks or did we use brooms? I’m sure we used both but the bottom line is, we played a version of hockey. One thing I do remember, we had a blast and our feet were frozen when we were done. But of course mom took care of that with a little foot rub and some hot chocolate.

My second birth of hockey came from my dad and NBC. I can remember to this day on a Sunday afternoon in the winter watching the NHL game of the week on NBC. The Blackhawks must have been on a lot because I also remember to this day the Blackhawks coach, Billy Reay, standing behind the bench with his stylish fedora. These games were broadcast after the NFL season was over. But there were choices back then too. The NHL or the NBA, which mostly showed Celtic games because as you might recall, the Celtics won about every year in the sixties. Now we are smack dab in the middle of Hoosier land, a basketball hotbed no doubt, why did the ole man prefer watching hockey, on a black and white set no less, to watching basketball? He had a simple explanation. Basketball was a non contact sport. Basketball did have that reputation for a long time, and I think it was well deserved. I don’t feel that way today. But in the sixties, basketball was for wimps. My dad said it. I believed it. Of course we had a basketball goal hanging above our garage door like most Hoosier families. And we played hoops often, though I think I was born with a basketball disability. So dad and I watched the NHL. I would spend time with my dad, and a love of the sport of hockey was being instilled in me that I wouldn’t realize until later in life.

My third birth of hockey came for me in 1972. I was 19 years old working as a stocker in a grocery store. One of the other stockers, there were three of us, was a guy by the name of Chuck Kelly. Now Chuck loved hockey. I don’t know how he learned about it. I don’t know why it fancied him so. He never did skate, not even to this day. Yet he could fire a shot with a tennis ball to the top shelf like Phil Esposito. When we worked night stock, he would bring his radio to the store to listen to the end of the game or he might tell me how a just completed game had finished. Or if the game were played in the Central or Pacific time zones, he would listen to some of the game during work. There was no professional team in Indiana. The closest teams to us in those days were the Blackhawks, Red Wings, and Blues. So what was THE GAME? THE GAME was not just some game he would pick up on the radio by some odd chance. No, THE GAME was the Boston Bruins of Bobby Orr, Phil Esposito, Johnny Bucyk, Gerry Cheevers, Wayne Cashman, Pie McKenzie, Ken Hodge, and many others I quickly fell in love with. But of course Bobby Orr first and foremost. Occasionally Chuck would pick up a Blues broadcast just to hear Dan Kelly, no relation, famously shout out, HE SHOOTS…. HE SCORES!!!!

So I would try to work in an aisle of the store that was close to Chuck so I could also listen to the game. This was night stock and the store was closed, no customers or management around. And of course Chuck had the volume plenty high so he could hear every pass, check, fight, save, penalty, and goal. Can you imagine working inside a building in middle America amongst the cornfields and trying to fine tune your radio in for the hockey game? It was WBZ out of Boston. 50,000 watts of power and we could get the game. We could pick up St. Louis radio and occasionally Detroit and Chicago. I bet we can’t do it today but back then at night you could dial those stations in by the finest of degree to get the best possible reception. Oh, you might have to also cock the radio for the most advantageous of positions. But Chuck and I would listen to the games and talk about the great sport of hockey.

At that time, NBC was still showing the game of the week on Sunday afternoons. But Indianapolis had a better idea. They could show reruns of some old crappy movie and get better ratings. So we were relegated to hockey by radio. The standings would be in the local Star newspaper but don’t look for an actual hockey article or stats of a game.

Later when our Governor was a fellow by the name of Robert Orr, EVERYTIME I saw his name on a newspaper headline, a byline, or a smaller article on the front page; for just an instant I thought it was about the great #4, Bobby Orr. I soon hated the fact that our governors name was Robert Orr because at least once a week my hopes were up about a hockey article, only to realize in short order that it was about our governor and politics, neither of which I cared about during his tenure.

So Chuck, myself, and a friend we called The Bear decided we had to find a way to see some hockey. Terre Haute, Indiana was about an hour and a half drive from Indy. An hour and a quarter the way Chuck drove. They showed the hockey games on Sundays. Their NBC station was different than ours in Indy and I guess they didn’t have the same library of old John Wayne or Doris Day movies in the vault as Indy had. We didn’t know anyone in Terre Haute so we got creative. We would rent a hotel room for a half-days rate and watch the game. We took our beers, sodas, and assorted snack foods, checked in, watched the game, and drove back home. Chuck didn’t drink so the Bear and I had our own designated driver before designated drivers were all the rage. This allowed The Bear and I to take full measure of the opportunity provided to us. I remember we always liked to listen to Howie Meeker during period breaks and an old cartoon character called Peter Puck. Peter was on to educate the Americans on the finer points of hockey. Chuck, The Bear, and I had a perfectly good understanding of the rules. We just wanted to see some rough play, fights, and goals. It mattered not who was on the game of the week. We were driving to Terre Haute. This went on for a couple of seasons. We never tore up any hotel rooms but I can assure you, they knew someone had been there.

The hockey itch had become greater as years went by and an itch must always be scratched. It was time to see the NHL game live and in person. In the winter of 73-74, Chuck, The Bear, and I decided to drive to Detroit for a game. The first live game we saw was Chicago vs. Detroit at The Olympia. The Olympia was an old run down building with obstructed view as all the old arenas had. They still had an old time clock that ran the time from zero UP to twenty minutes for each period. But to us, at that time in our lives, it was the Mecca of hockey. A beautiful sight. Jim Rutherford was playing goal for Detroit. Red Berenson, Marcel Dionne, and Mickey Redmond were stars or stars in the making.

Our initial trip to Detroit in 1973 was during the days of the Oil Embargo. We had to be careful not to run out of gas and you didn’t want to be in the wrong area of Detroit looking for gas. It was on this trip that we were attacked by about five or six young men with knives. They attacked us while we were inside our van and traveling at 50 miles per hour. Mind you they were standing on the street corner and had no idea who was inside our van. The idiots got close enough to scratch our vehicle with their knives as we zoomed by. We also learned on this trip about the perils of parking in just any old lot that was available. In Detroit, they would park cars line after line with no spacing between cars. You couldn’t leave until enough cars around you left so that you had enough space to maneuver from your spot. We called this Chinese parking. And from that point on, we always asked how cars were parked.

Our initial game was a success, the trip was a success. This was not a stay overnight trip. Five hours up, and five hours back. We got tired but when you’re with your buds and the smack is flying, drinks and snacks for all, the trip goes amazingly fast. Of course, Chuck drove so once again it was open season for The Bear and I. Little did I know then that during my boys travel hockey years some 15 to 25 years later, this trip would become commonplace and a piece of cake.

Later that winter we saw another game at The Olympia. This time involving, much to us Bruins fans dismay, the soon to be Stanley Cup Champion and current Broad Street Bullies of Philadelphia. Complete with Dave The Hammer Schultz, Bernie Parent, Bobby Clarke, Bill Barber, Gary Dornhoeffer, and others. The Flyers ran roughshod over the Wings just as we had hoped. No, we weren’t rooting for the eventual winner so much as we were rooting for the Flyers tough reputation to show itself on the ice. And they didn’t disappoint.

Beginning in 1974, The Indianapolis Racers were fielding a team in the fledgling World Hockey Association. Our travel expeditions still included some trips to Detroit and Chicago for a few games, but now we could watch our favorite sport by simply driving downtown. Chuck & I went to about thirty games a season during the Racers five year stint and the WHA brand of hockey, in my opinion, was close to a par with the NHL. More extensive road trips for Chuck and I were coming and will be detailed in Chapter 2.

The fourth and final birth of hockey for me came on February 5th, 1980. This was less than three weeks before the completion of the Miracle On Ice. With apologies to my daughter Christy who was born in 1977, I now had a son. My wife Ginger gave birth to John Martin Kavanaugh. And there was no doubt he would some day play hockey. Ginger had already become a solid hockey fan in the seventies when the WHA Racers were skating. Shortly after John was born she asked me how I didn’t know that John might grow up to become a piano player instead of a hockey player. Well it was simple. There was zero chance of a piano ever being in our home. There was 100% chance of NHL games being on TV and John watching with the old man. There was 100% chance of me buying John skates, sticks, etc., so no one would bet against him some day playing the great game.

An odd yet fortuitous thing happened on that day in February of 1980. But we didn’t know it until eight years later. Another young boy was born in that same hospital on that same day to the parents of Bob and Donna York. Their newborn son Adam had parents of similar dreams of ours in regards to the game of hockey. In 1986 and 1987 Bob and I coached against each other in youth house leagues and Adam and John played against each other. When they were six year old Mites, they each led their respective house teams in scoring. From 1988 to 1993 they played on the same travel teams and became fast friends. We even played little league baseball together as we lived in the same section of town. It was the beginning of our travel hockey experience when the boys were eight that we realized they shared the same birth date. And born in the same hospital. I don’t know what the odds were of that but we all had a super time for many years. Bob & Donna York are good friends of ours to this day.

So now the table was set. Good old fashion outdoor winter play got me started. My dad reinforced the greatness of the game simply by having the right channel on. My eventual best friend (and still best friend today) came out of nowhere as a hockey fan and we listened to games on the radio and went to games together in person. And then John was born, my pupil had arrived. Four years from this time a second son, Jason, was born. We couldn’t have known it in 1980, but a lifetime of hockey, road trips, and educational experiences would soon be on the horizon for my wife Ginger, daughter Christy, son John, and unborn son Jason and I. Now I had to improve my skating skills and educate myself better on the game so I could one day coach and be an integral part of the game and my son’s hockey development.

 2

 Brad Park

150 Causeway St.

There are 2 famous addresses in this country. 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue and 150 Causeway St. One houses the most powerful man in the free world. The other houses arguably the most famous sporting arena in the country. The Boston Garden. Or Gah-den as the locals would say. This address would be a frequent destination point for Chuck Kelly and I between 1979 & 1990. The Garden was built in 1928 originally with boxing in mind. The builder believed every seat should be close enough for the spectator to see the sweat on the boxers brow. Because of its design, when hockey and basketball were played, the fans were much closer to the action than in other arenas. The rink was undersized because in 1928 there were no NHL standards for the size of a rink. So its small 191 foot by 83 foot dimensions were 9 feet shorter and 2 feet narrower than a normal hockey rink. The setup threw opponents off their games. There were no corners in the rink at the Boston Garden. A puck dumped in on one side would be out the other before you knew it. The small visitors locker room made it uncomfortable for its guests. The absence of air conditioning made it hot if not foggy during spring games when the weather was unseasonably warm. It is famous for its rats but Chuck nor I ever laid witness to the rodents. Its safe to say that the Boston Garden was a favorable home advantage for its tenants, the Bruins and the Celtics.

As mentioned in Chapter 1, Chuck and I began making road trips to NHL games in the seventies. Before we made our first trek to The Hub, I would like to tell you about a trip to Chicago in 1978. Bobby Orr had been traded to Chicago after the 1976 season. The injury plagued superstar only played 20 games for the Blackhawks that season. His twelfth knee surgery would follow and he sat out the entire 1977-78 season in rehab. As the 78-79 season approached, Chuck and I had discussed seeing an early season game in Chicago. We were quite aware of the brittle knee and knew it might not last a season. We agreed to go to game #7. In Bobby’s first six games he had scored four points on two goals and two assists. Game six was played in St. Louis. Chuck and I made the short drive up to the Windy City. With good seats we watched as the Blackhawks came out for their pre-game skate. Nervously, we did not see #4 on the ice. Oh my God! Is it possible he isn’t playing? Remember, in Indianapolis we weren’t getting daily game news. ESPN was still a year or two away. In fact Bobby Orr, the greatest player to ever lace up skates was officially a scratch. He had once again injured his knee in the St. Louis game. He never played another game in the NHL. Not ever seeing Bobby Orr play live was my greatest hockey disappointment. When asked to pick my all time favorite player, Bobby Orr is the easy answer. But officially, I went with a great Bruin I had seen play more games live than any other.

Famously, Bobby never cashed a paycheck that season from Chicago. He said he was paid to play hockey and he wasn’t playing. He was enshrined into the Hockey Hall Of Fame at 31 years of age after his mandatory three year waiting period was waived. The youngest player to be so honored. Gordie Howe said, Losing Bobby was the greatest blow the National Hockey League ever suffered.

Some fifteen years later, I had occasion to meet Bobby Orr face to face at a hockey equipment show, shake his hand, and get his autograph on a black and white photo of his famous Stanley Cup winning goal of 1970. He also gave me a second autographed picture for my son Jason, who would eventually wear Bobby’s #4 out of admiration. Getting Bobby’s autograph was one of the greatest moments of my life.

Chuck and I made 9 trips to Boston altogether. The first was in 1979. My oldest son John was still a year away. Chuck and his wife Teresa had two young kids, Jeanette and Jason. Our