Hubert Brooks and Bea Grontved were buzzing as they finalized their storybook wedding plans. In just three days the two were set to tie the knot in a chapel overlooking the idyllic mountain town. Hubert cabled home via marconigram to inform his mother that all was coming together swimmingly for his big day.
At 6:00 a.m. on Friday, February 6, the boys in blue were up and at it in preparation for their 8:00 a.m. game against the mighty Czechoslovakian squad. Once again the air in the Swiss mountain village was crisp and cold. A thick mass of harmless clouds enveloped the sky in a wall of white and kept the sun from melting the ice. Dawn heralded a perfect day for an outdoor hockey match. The ice surface was hard as a rock: smooth, glassy, and fast.
Coached by Canadian Mike Buckna, the Czechs were the current world champions and heavily favoured to capture the gold medal. Buckna was no slouch at the game of hockey. Born in 1913 in Trail, British Columbia, he was an exceptional athlete who played with and coached the Trail Smoke Eaters when they won the world championships back in 1939. Buckna was courted by the Chicago Black Hawks to play for them in the NHL, but he turned them down.
Known as the Father of Czechoslovakian Hockey, Buckna was not only the coach of the national team but also the coordinator of the entire Czech hockey system. He revolutionized the game for the Czechs by teaching them how to play “Canadian” style. He pioneered clinics and introduced the Czechs to the kind of conditioning, passing, and playmaking required to master the sport. As a result of his guidance, the Czechs had risen from the cellar to become a world hockey superpower in just a few short years.
The Czech lineup at St. Moritz was stocked with world-class players. Under Buckna’s direction the Czechs had produced a few tremendous NHL-calibre stars. Team captain Vladimir Zabrodsky was a mountain of a man. He stood six foot four and was an outstanding centre with a blazing shot. His free-skating style and tricky playmaking skills delighted fans. So far at these Olympic Games, Zabrodsky was at the top of the scoring chart. Although he was a hulk, he wasn’t a big hitter, and he could fly on the ice. His colleague Jaroslav Drobny ran a close second to Zabrodsky. Drobny was fast and stocky and also possessed exceptional stickhandling skills and a cannon for a shot. Unlike Zabrodsky, he liked to mix it up and played a rough game. He was also a gifted multi-sport athlete and a Davis Cup–winning tennis star. In the 1950s Drobny would win the men’s singles at Wimbledon. Rounding out the triple threat in the Czech lineup was goalie Bohumil Modry. With wicked fast reflexes, Modry was considered by many in the news media to be the best goalie in Europe. From what the Flyers could see, Modry didn’t have Murray Dowey’s quick hands, but he was fast on his feet and deftly used his entire body, pads, and stick to guard his net.
Just after 7:00 a.m., both teams thumped down the hallways of the Stahlbad in full equipment and boarded the same bus to the rink. Zabrodsky sat with the Canadian boys and engaged in some light-hearted discussions through broken English. It was a make-or-break match. The players of whichever powerhouse prevailed that morning would likely be listening to their national anthem with a gold medal around their necks in just a few days.
Coach Frank Boucher was grappling with a tough decision about his lineup. So far, the guys had excelled and performed exactly as he’d hoped. But this morning the Flyers’ top scorer, Wally Halder, was seriously under the weather. Wally still wanted to play, but Frank wasn’t sure if he should sit him out or keep him in.
About twenty-five hundred fans crammed into the stands at the Olympic Stadium. The ice surface was sheer perfection. Several members of the Canadian ski and skating teams cheered on the boys in the warm-up and nervously waited for the opening faceoff. Boucher pulled his boys in close. He instructed them to play a physical game; the Czechs were big and fast and had a few snipers, but they didn’t like to be hit. He told them that neutralizing the big Czech gunners and protecting Murray was the top priority. If they allowed the Czechoslovakians to open up on them, their Cinderella run for a medal would be over.
The tension in the air was thick. Although both teams had racehorses revved up at the gate, the opening minutes started out at half speed. Both teams were playing cautious, defensive hockey. They danced with each other like boxers in the ring, waiting to see who would throw the first punch. Forwards on both squads resisted the urge to rush, take chances, or make risky passes. Halfway through the first period the taps were turned on. Wally Halder, Reg Schroeter, and Louis Lecompte rushed the Czechs and fired three rapid-fire shots in one shift at Bohumil Modry. The Czech goalie rebuffed them all. Moments later the Czech snipers skated the length of the ice and returned fire at Murray Dowey, but Fast Hands had no trouble containing the assault.
Back on the blue line, defenceman André Laperrière played heads-up hockey and did a superb job of breaking up the Czech plays and stopping shots. André threw a bit of the body around, but it was Frank Dunster who levelled the Czechs when they dared get close and had them shaking in their skates. After a couple of solid hits, the big Czech attackers tended to avoid trying to cross the Flyers’ blue line with the puck and instead played five men back, opting to dump the puck into the Flyers’ zone instead of pressing for an attack.
In the dying minutes of the first period, the Flyers again buzzed Modry and peppered him with a flurry of shots. The boys on the bench leapt to their feet and were screaming for a goal. But the Czech netminder once again stonewalled the Flyers’ barrage of shots and kept the score deadlocked at 0–0.
With the first period in the rear-view mirror, the Flyers had outshot the Czechs nine to four. At the opening of the second period the Canadians again took to the offensive. They boxed in the Czechs in their own end and continued pressing with a series of shots and smart passes. When the Czechs stole the puck, the Flyers defence was like an iron curtain, and the forwards followed Boucher’s plan to a T. They backchecked like men possessed. Midway through the second period, George Mara grabbed a loose puck inside the Czech zone and blasted a sizzler that was screaming for the right-hand corner of the Czech net. Modry barely managed to get a piece of it and the Flyers pounced on the rebound. They bombarded Modry with a volley of eight shots over the next few minutes, but the bewildered Czechs held on until the refs blew the whistle and stopped the action.
After two periods of play, the Canadians had fired twenty shots at Bohumil Modry. The Czechs had managed to direct only nine at Murray Dowey. Still, the score remained 0–0. Heading into the final period, both teams ratcheted up the heat. Over on the Czechoslovakian bench, captain Vladimir Zabrodsky pressed Coach Mike Buckna to let them play a more wide-open style of hockey. Zabrodsky wanted to go all out and wage a full frontal attack. The Czechs hit the ice going full tilt. Jaroslav Drobny unleashed a howitzer from the Flyers blue line that almost beat Murray Dowey. He blocked the shot but coughed up a rebound that bounced right out into the danger zone directly in front of his net. The Czech attackers scrambled to bang it in and slapped three quick shots at Murray. But the kid from the Beaches deftly handled each salvo, and his defencemen closed in, bunched up the crease, and muzzled the Czechs.
Murray was ecstatic with the protection his team provided him. Their Czechoslovakian opponents were solid skaters, they were fast, and they had some exceptional shots. But the punishing body blows being delivered by the Canucks continued to stop them in their tracks. All match long, Vladimir Zabrodsky was constantly looking over his shoulder.
Midway through the third period Zabrodsky grabbed the puck and tried to race past the Blue Line Masher. Dunster lined up the giant speeding Czech in his sights and crushed him into the boards. Zabrodsky dropped like a rock, his stick and glove flying through the air. Back in the Flyers net, Murray could not believe what happened next. The towering leading goal scorer at the Olympics stood up and started to cry. Maybe his hand got pinched, maybe he was frustrated—only Vladimir knew why—but he stood there and let tears roll down his cheeks. Murray later joked that perhaps it was because his tennis hand got hurt by the Masher. Zabrodsky, like
Drobny, also played a mean game for the lawn tennis club in Prague.
The intense, hard-fought game carried on. The tables started to turn when the Flyers began taking penalties. George Mara got sent to the box for interference. Czech coach Mike Buckna ordered a five-man attack. But the boys in blue reached down deep and smothered the Czech power play. Dunster and Laperrière were airtight on defence. Not a single shot was directed at Murray while they were short-handed. On the next shift at full strength, Patsy Guzzo raced the length of the ice and almost squeezed in the winning goal. The Czechs rebounded and stormed back, pressing hard around the Flyers net. With less than five minutes left in the game, Frank Dunster drew a minor penalty that once again gave the Czechs an excruciating two-minute man advantage. Buckna sent in his attackers and they swarmed Murray. This time they unleashed four rapid-fire blasts. The blond, asthmatic kid from Toronto was unbeatable. Under immense pressure he staved off every attack and silenced the Czech gunners.
In the waning minutes of the game, frustrations ran high and ultimately bubbled over when George Mara and Jaroslav Drobny collided on the sidelines. The two heavies instantly got up and started throwing punches at each other. The refs skated in to break up the fight, and the crowd erupted into boos and cheers when they separated the pair.
At the final whistle the game ended in a scoreless tie. The “hopeless, inadequate” team that was skewered by the press when they left Canada had more than held their own against the reigning world champions. The unofficial British United Press scoresheet figured the Canadians had outplayed the Czechs based on tries throughout the match. The first and second periods were dominated by the Canucks, while the Czechs held the advantage in the third. Bohumil Modry stared down twenty-six shots from the Flyers. Murray Dowey repelled seventeen from the Czechs. After the game, Coach Mike Buckna told reporters, “It’s real playoff hockey.” When pressed for his thoughts, Coach Frank Boucher remarked, “I think we have a good chance of taking it.”
As the two teams skated off the now rutted and pitted ice, the crowd gave the boys a big round of applause for a well-fought, well-played match. Their repeated chants of “Canada!” were like music to Murray Dowey’s ears. In the 0–0 tie, Murray registered his third shutout in six games. After his disappointing lapse in concentration against the Italians, he felt elated about his performance that day in battle with the top-notch Czechoslovakians. If the Flyers could win their final two matches against the Austrians and the Swiss, they were in contention to win it all.
A FEW HOURS LATER CANADIAN TEEN sensation and national icon Barbara Ann Scott took to the same ice the Flyers had played on that morning. Every one of the players was there to cheer her on as she competed in the women’s figure skating finals. To them Barbara Ann was family. She was like their younger sister. They, like her twenty big brothers. And the feeling was mutual. From Olympic Night back in Ottawa all the way to St. Moritz, Barbara Ann watched the Flyers’ games whenever she could, and the boys went to see and support her performances whenever they could. Together they planned to bring home double gold to Canada.
The biggest crowd since the opening ceremonies crammed into the bleachers and flooded onto the snow-covered terraced cliffs overlooking the ice. Fully seven thousand spectators had flocked to the rink to watch the glamour girl of the Winter Olympics take on twenty-four other competitors. Hundreds of newsreel cameramen and reporters cranked up their machines and readied themselves to capture every frame of her dazzling performance at the Olympic Stadium.
Although the ice had been quickly scraped, watered down, and refrozen after the Canada versus Czechoslovakia hockey game, the warm afternoon sun worked its devilish magic and turned areas of the surface into a slushy mess. Barbara Ann walked the entire ice before her performance, taking stock of the softest spots and deepest ruts. She tweaked her routine and planned to use the smoother parts of the ice for the riskiest manoeuvres of her four-minute program.
Decked out in a white, fur-trimmed costume with a matching white Dutch cap, the blonde-haired, blue-eyed ballerina of the ice sported “lucky” number thirteen on her sleeve. Calm and collected, she made her way to one end of the rink and waited for the live band to launch into her medley of music. Over the next four minutes, she skated with precision personified and blew everyone away. The Flyers, wedged in among the crowd, screamed their heads off with excitement.
Canadian Press reporter Jack Sullivan, like everyone else in attendance, was awestruck. “The dimpled World and European champion made spins, spirals and loops look like child’s play as thousands of spectators shouted hoarsely ‘Barbeli, Barbeli’—[a] pet Swiss name for the 19-year-old Canadian.”
Because of the poor ice conditions, Barbara Ann modified her program on the fly and did one double loop off the top instead of three. The choppy ice didn’t stop her from wowing the audience with three axels, an axel sit spin, and various dance steps. Later she swapped another combination of double loops for double salchows. The ebullient crowd was absolutely enthralled with her impeccable performance. Whether she was up on the saw-toothed toes of her silver blades or flying flat out at top speed, she presented the epitome of grace and beauty. To the spectators it seemed as if the diminutive ice ballerina was dancing, twirling, or leaping every second of her performance.
As she completed her routine and glided off the ice on one foot, roaring applause reverberated through the Olympic Stadium. No matter what the judges thought, the crowd had been bowled over by the young Canadian beauty queen. Two hundred photographers joined a tidal wave of fans and crushed in with shutters clicking as they swarmed around her. Barbara Ann’s mother turned to Ab Renaud and Reg Schroeter, sitting nearby, and called out: “Here, you big boys, put her up on your shoulders and help her through.” With enormous toothy smiles, Schroeter and Renaud quickly hoisted her up on their shoulders above the cheering crowd. Reg dug into his air force parka and passed Barbara Ann a piece of a Swiss chocolate bar. Barbara Ann beamed down at them and said, “This must be hard on you, boys.” Reg replied, “Don’t worry, we like it.” She bit into the chocolate bar and smiled to the waving fans. Amid the cheers, the laughs, and the smiles, photographers snapped off a blast of pictures, and the enduring image of her taking a bite of chocolate while perched on the shoulders of her hockey brothers was flashed around the world.
Up above the masses, Barbara Ann watched as her marks were posted on the giant scoreboard. Eight of the nine judges awarded her first place. The young girl decked out in white became the first Canadian ever to win a gold medal in Olympic figure skating. Moments later, in the calm and quiet of her dressing room, she confessed to reporters: “I’ve never been so tired in my life. I was very careful. This was the chance I’ve been waiting for all of my life. I didn’t want to miss it.”
What a day for the boys in blue. That morning they held their own and battled the world champion Czechs to a tie. In doing so, they secured themselves a solid chance at winning not just a medal but perhaps even the gold. Then they watched their “kid sister” make history and capture Canada’s first-ever gold in figure skating. Later in the afternoon they hobnobbed rinkside with Hollywood A-listers Burgess Meredith and Paulette Goddard.
Back in their comfy digs at the Stahlbad Hotel, Patsy Guzzo wrote: “Barbara Ann Scott performed flawlessly on wet ice. Eileen Seigh of the U.S, trying to catch up, fell on her fanny three times and had a very wet bottom at the finish.”
With the end now in sight, many of the boys were starting to feel a little restless and looking forward to getting out of the small mountain town. The daily grind of week after week of no drinking and early nights was starting to wear thin. The boys were itching to let loose—especially those who continued to ride the bench. Forbes, Brooks, King, Gilpin, and Taylor had come all this way, and it was looking more and more as if they would not be lacing up for the remaining games. At least once the Olympics were over, they would get to mix it up on the ice again in the coming exhibition games across Europe.
That nig
ht back at the Stahlbad, Patsy Guzzo received an offer from the Italian hockey team to come and coach them the next year in Milan. He was flattered by the concept, but there was no way he would entertain such a dramatic move without first running things by his wife back in Ottawa.
On Saturday, February 7, the Swiss skies opened up once more and delivered a heavy snowfall that cascaded down onto St. Moritz. Beautiful as the thick, fluffy snowflakes were, they wreaked havoc for the organizers, who were doing their best to finish off the final two days of events. The boys were slated to take on the Austrians in the second round of hockey matches at Suvretta rink. By now they had proven themselves to be worthy adversaries, and many in the media figured the Canadians would have little trouble making short work of the Austrians in the early afternoon game.
Roy Forbes was hoping that Coach Boucher might allow him and a few of the other guys who had been sidelined to finally suit up. Not only could they more than handle the Austrians, but by subbing them in, Boucher would give the boys who had played hard a chance to recharge for the next day’s final battle against the high-powered Swiss team. But Frank Boucher stuck to his plan and kept the Canadian lineup unchanged. Night after night, the full weight of who played and who sat rested squarely on his shoulders. Frank later admitted that benching those five talented guys day after day was probably the toughest decision he had to make in his entire life.
As they lined up by the bench in the swirling snowstorm, Frank was adamant that the boys stick to his plan and play a strong defensive game. That being said, if there were any opportunities to maximize their scoring chances, they must capitalize on them to keep up with the high-scoring Czechs. Despite that day’s heavy snow, early morning game results were already in. Czechoslovakia had hammered the Swiss team 7–1, handing the hometown squad their first defeat in the Winter Games. In other action, Sweden annihilated Italy 23–0, giving their goal average a healthy boost. And the United States took down Britain 4–3. To remain in contention with the Czechs, Swedes, and Swiss, the Flyers had to not only beat the Austrians but also pile on the goals and keep the puck out of Murray’s net.
Against All Odds Page 19
