The Battle of Alberta

by Mark Spector

  “In 1986 we’d gone to the finals with these seven defencemen,” recalled Flames winger Jim Peplinski. “Terry Johnson, Jamie Macoun, Paul Baxter, Paul Reinhart, Gary Suter, Al MacInnis, and Neil Sheehy. It wasn’t the best defence in the world.

  “In 1989, Brad McCrimmon was a huge part. Rob Ramage had come in—two real competitors. [Czech winger] Jiri Hrdina—he could just skate right through people. Joey Mullen … they all just had the mental toughness to keep playing, no matter what. You just couldn’t stop them. A guy like Colin Patterson was another. We had a core, that middle tier, that just played.”

  The problem for guys like Peplinski, Hunter, and McDonald was that that middle tier was younger, faster, and beginning to push the older guard aside. Lanny and Peplinski were rotating the captaincy all season long. Who knew that by the time they were playing for the Cup there would only be one lineup spot for the both of them?

  “I remember going home after we’d won the first game against Montreal in 1986,” said Peplinski. “I was listening to the radio, and they said that 85.4 percent of the teams that won the first game go on to win. I thought, ‘We’re going to win a Stanley Cup.’ And I was wrong.

  “In 1989, we had enough guys who knew the secret to winning the Stanley Cup. And that is, if you’re lucky enough to get there, you’ve really got to slow it down. It goes so fast, even if you’re playing every second night and you go to seven games, fourteen days passes by in a blink of an eye. And it’s really hard to reset yourself if you mess up. In 1986, we won a game, then we lost four straight. We just hadn’t figured out that you need to be absolutely on plan every minute.

  “If you’re good enough and lucky enough to get there, you have to take advantage of that. In 1989 we figured that out.”

  Ironically, one of the key changes for Calgary had not involved a Fletcher decision at all. It happened after the 1987 upset loss to Winnipeg in Round 1, after which Bob Johnson walked away to return to his roots at USA Hockey. As much respect as the Flames players had for Badger Bob, even they knew it was time for a change.

  “Even though I believe we were coached better than any other team, I think the one thing that Bob Johnson wasn’t willing to do was to press hard on guys,” recollected Peplinski. “Human nature is such that very few individuals can run hills till they puke. It’s hard to do. But if you’ve got somebody there whippin’ you, you can. If you’ve got a buddy running beside you who is driving you, and you’re driving him, you can. That was the one element that Bob required, to be not only a great coach but also an incredible, winning coach.

  “I don’t think there are a lot of people who will tell you that Terry Crisp was their best friend. But they will tell you, he knew when and how to push people.”

  The Flames won Game 1 again in 1989, this time at home in the Saddledome, but in identical fashion to 1986 Montreal bounced back to take Game 2. Lanny looked tired, and he was replaced in Game 3 by Mark Hunter. The Flames lost, and in Game 4 Peplinski joined McDonald, both captains watching the game from the dressing room as Calgary evened the series.

  The series swung back to Calgary for Game 5. Tim Hunter came out, McDonald stayed out, but Peplinski returned to the lineup. He had three shots on goal and set Joel Otto up twenty-eight seconds into the game as Calgary won 3–2.

  Now it was back to Montreal, and Stanley would be in the building. Crisp knew the decisions that lay ahead, and his guts were already churning as he boarded the flight at YYC. Hunter had taken how many punches, defended how many teammates since the day he joined the team in 1982? How could you not play him?

  Peplinski was a Day 1er, playing in Calgary’s original home opener at the Stampede Corral in 1980. He couldn’t have much time left, but still, he was only twenty-eight at the time. Retirement did not appear imminent.

  Then there was Lanny. He’d been cooling his heels since Game 2, and quietly, reporters covering the series wondered if this was how it would end for McDonald. Almost everyone wanted to see McDonald hoist the Cup, but after more than a thousand games, surely he would get the chance to play in the game that preceded the ceremony, wouldn’t he?

  We’ve all seen those Stanley Cup “win it for somebody” movements over the years, such as in 2001 in Colorado when it became all about winning one for Ray Bourque, who had gone Cup-less through twenty-two superb seasons. Or 2004 in Tampa Bay, when the Lightning were winning one for Dave Andreychuk, the veteran of more than sixteen hundred games who was almost certainly getting his last crack at a ring.

  So, of course, there was a goodly portion of every Flames fan’s heart that wanted to see McDonald, a Southern Alberta son who’d slugged it out through 1,111 regular-season games and scored exactly five hundred goals, raise the Cup. Same for Leafs fans, or most Canadians outside of Habs Nation, for that matter. But there was far more at play in Calgary in 1989 then there was in either Tampa in 2004 or Colorado in 2001.

  Tampa was a one-off in 2004, much like the team they defeated in Game 7 that spring, the Calgary Flames. To compare Andreychuk and the Bolts with McDonald and the Flames, in that sense, was pure folly. Calgary had been much closer for much longer.

  This was Calgary’s second Cup appearance in four years, yet you didn’t have tell a Flames fan that there were no guarantees another Cup final was around the corner. Now it was Game 6, the Flames led the series 3–2, and Big Stanley would be on hand that night at the hallowed Montreal Forum.

  “What we tried to preach was, ‘Look, we can’t afford to take this back home,’ ” Lanny said. “It would be nice to win it at home, but Patrick Roy could win a Game 7 all by himself. I wanted no part of that.”

  There was a level of statesmanship attached to McDonald by this time. He’d made his name in Toronto and now had a far better team flanking him in Calgary. But it was a race to the finish line, with McDonald’s waning abilities in one lane and in the other lane the thought that in a game like this one, you needed his veteran savvy in the lineup.

  “They had some good players with high skill levels, like Reinhart, MacInnis, Loob, and Nieuwendyk,” said Wayne Gretzky. “But what changed the whole complexion of the team was when Cliff went out and traded for Lanny McDonald. Lanny brought credibility to their group. That leader, the Jean Béliveau–type guy. He brought a certain calmness to their team.”

  It’s game day in Montreal: May 25, 1989. A Thursday. “That day in Montreal,” Crisp said, “it was the longest day I ever had.”

  By now it was pretty clear. The Flames had won two straight and led the series 3–2. They were beginning to exert their dominance over Montreal, and anyone following the series could see it.

  McDonald hadn’t played since Game 2. Peplinski had sat out Game 4, and Hunter had sat out Game 5. All three were right-handed shots, and what was becoming obvious was, there was one spot on right wing for the three of them. The lineup was winning, and that trumped all loyalties. It was no time for an emotional decision, and nobody knew this better than Crisp, who had played in Philadelphia during their two Cup wins in 1974 and 1975.

  “When I was with the Flyers in 1975 when we won the Cup in Buffalo, I’d played all the games up to that point. But in the final game, when we won the Cup, Fred [Shero] didn’t dress me. I sat there all night wondering why,” he said. “As a player it’s hard to wrap your brain around it.”

  So Crisp knew exactly how crushing his decision was going to be to someone. Or, in this case, to two someones.

  “I go back over it, and if it wasn’t the longest day of my hockey career, it was the toughest,” Crisp said. “We were in Montreal, going for the Stanley Cup. We had so much depth. We were so strong that you knew what you had to do. Every coach says the same thing: you sit down and decide on the lineup for that night, to win that game. I was looking over my lineup with [assistant coaches] Tom Watt and Doug Risebrough, going over and over and over it. I walked the streets of Montreal that day. It was a hard day.

  “Tom and Riser, they came in and we had another meeting about the final li
neup. The hardest part of all was this: Those two men, Tim Hunter and Jim Peplinski, were on the list of who sits out. Each of them had earned the right to be there in that game. But for that immediate game, the lineup that we as coaches decided on was the lineup we felt we needed to win this game. It was one of the hardest things I ever had to do, to sit those men out.”

  Crisp decided to play McDonald. Was it an emotional decision? Was it made out of loyalty? Out of deference? Maybe Crisp figured that, having not played for a full week, a fresh McDonald had one more big goal in him?

  “It was a no-brainer,” Crisp said. “Lanny was an icon, probably in his last season, and he’d never won a Cup. We were on the threshold of winning the Cup … How could you not [play him]?

  “But Pep could have been in. Hunts could have been in, and we would have likely won the Cup that night anyhow. But a decision had to be made. You knew you weren’t going to be popular,” he said.

  And Crisp, more than anyone, knew how much hurt he was about to dole out. “There’s no antidote that’s going to salve that wound. No antidote that’s going to make you feel better—and there isn’t an easy way to tell a player.”

  So, he sent Risebrough to tell them.

  Peplinski, always good for an eloquent, thoughtful quote, did not dwell on the moment for long. He hasn’t, publicly, in the twenty-five years since, really. It is as if he moved past it then, and it’s not even clear if he’s ever completely dealt with it, even today.

  “When Riser came in and said, ‘Crispy says you’re not playing tonight,’ I told Riser, ‘Tell Crispy to go *&^% himself,’ ” he says. “That probably wasn’t the right response.”

  The words flowed straight from Peplinski’s heart, through the mouth of a hockey player. I’ve known hundreds of players, and no matter how much love they had for their coach, all of them would have thought what Peplinski said, and most would have verbalized it, as he did.

  “I don’t blame him,” Crisp said, now twenty-five years later. “I understand where he’s coming from. That’s pride in an athlete, and everyone wants to play.”

  But something about the situation didn’t sit right with Crisp, who was seventy-one when we spoke. He stewed on it for a while, then Crisp repeated: “Crispy?”

  “I thought we were a coaching staff?” he mused. “I thought we had Tom Watt, Doug Risebrough, and myself making that decision. When you’re making those decisions, do you think I’m going to do it without addressing Tom Watt and Doug Risebrough, who have been by my side all season long?”

  Then he thought some more.

  “I’ve often wondered, when we had functions, Tim Hunter and Jim Peplinski are always perfect gentlemen. What do they think about Terry Crisp? What do they think of Terry Crisp? We were a coaching staff. Three of us …

  “Ah,” he finally said, “I’d have probably told Terry Crisp to go *&^% himself too. Think about it. You’ve played all year, all of your career, and suddenly this hits you out of the blue? It upsets you.”

  “I was an assistant coach for a long time,” added Hunter, who would go on to work for the Washington Capitals, San Jose Sharks, and Toronto Maple Leafs. “When things are going good, you’re a real good guy. But when things go bad, you’re a prick in a hurry, I’ll tell ya.”

  So, while McDonald was out there messing up that scoring chance, and then taking that dumb penalty, Hunter and Peplinski were in the dressing room. “He was really sour,” Hunter said of Peplinski.

  Today the spare players get fully dressed in their gear and jerseys during the third period of a Cup-clinching game so that they look more like participating players in the post-game pictures with the Cup. But back then, there were few traditions. Only a year before, Gretzky had instigated the group picture around the Stanley Cup that has become de rigueur today, but it wasn’t a thing back then. Peplinski and Hunter certainly weren’t going to gear up. In fact, their gear was likely bagged and on a truck already anyhow.

  “We rode the bike [during the game] because you had to stay ready in case there was a Game 7,” Hunter said. “We watched [on TV] in the dressing room, popping our heads out once in a while. But he [Peplinski] didn’t want to go on the ice and get the Cup with Lanny if we won.

  “I said, ‘Pep, tell you what. I’ll go out, get the Cup with Lanny, and I’ll bring it over to the concourse and you can run it around the concourse at the Forum. Okay?’ He kinda laughed.”

  Even in his depression, it had begun to set in on Peplinski, the way it did on Crisp that 1975 night at the Aud in Buffalo—exactly fourteen years and two days prior—that if this was the way he was going to win his Stanley Cup, then he might as well enjoy it. There was only one of the three of them who was going to have the chance to make any special memories from this game—other than the outcome, of course—and that was Lanny McDonald.

  And for the moment, McDonald was in the penalty box. “Praying like a good Catholic boy would that they don’t score,” he recalled.

  The Canadiens did not convert on their power play, and McDonald’s prayers were further answered when he stepped out of the box and his club had the puck. What ensued would be the last NHL goal he ever scored, and one that has been mis-labelled for years as the game-winner. It was, in fact, the second Flames goal in a 4–2 win, with Gilmour scoring twice more to seal the Cup victory.

  But after all the angst, after fourteen playoff games without a goal, after a sixteen-year career that had reached its final night in hockey’s most elegant showplace, what happened next for Lanny McDonald was nothing short of poetic.

  “I jump out of the box,” he began, the sequence burned into his memory. “Macoun moves the puck up to centre to Hakan Loob, and I jump into the play to make it a 3-on-2. When we get to their blue line, Hakan Loob throws the puck to the left side to Joe Nieuwendyk. And in one motion Nieuwendyk pulls it back and fires it in between Chelios’s skate and stick to the right side [to McDonald].”

  Watch the video. It was a masterful pass by Nieuwendyk, as much for the fact it hit McDonald on the tape as for the quickness with which he’d released it. Chelios was still edging the wrong direction toward Nieuwendyk, following the initial pass, when the puck was already on McDonald’s stick, so fast were Nieuwendyk’s instincts.

  “We all knew,” continued McDonald, “when Patrick Roy comes across his net he goes down in the butterfly and tries to cover as much net as he can. The only place to score is top shelf.”

  McDonald channelled his 1978 hands and buried the puck up under the crossbar. “When that baby went in? It was like, ‘Yeah, baby!’ I wanted the game to end right there, but we had a whole lot of game left to play.”

  Harry Neale, the former coach who had taken the chair next to Bob Cole working as a CBC colour analyst, quipped, “McDonald shows you a twenty-six-year-old’s shot, from a thirty-six-year-old man, as he put it up and over Patrick Roy.”

  And, Neale added, “Crisp dressed Peplinski, and he got an assist at the thirty-eight-second mark of Game 5. Now he dresses McDonald, and McDonald puts him ahead in Game 6.”

  Of the 544 goals that McDonald scored in regular season and playoffs, it is clear which one is nearest and dearest to his heart. “When you’re a little boy, you’re trying to get to the NHL, but more importantly, you’re playing the game to win a Stanley Cup. That was probably the most important goal I ever scored,” he said.

  Gilmour sandwiched a power-play goal and an empty-netter around a Montreal goal by Rick Green, and when it was done, with President John Ziegler waiting at centre ice to hand Captain McDonald the Cup, Lanny wouldn’t go alone. Where most captains accept the Cup and then hand it off to their next in command, McDonald demanded that the two vets—dressed in red Flames workout strip—join him at centre ice.

  They accepted the trophy as a trio, and the shot of Peplinski lovingly rubbing the top of McDonald’s head is a snapshot you’ll see in the bowels of the Saddledome even today.

  “I wouldn’t have gone on the ice if Hunts hadn’t pulled me out t
here,” Peplinski said. “It was a great moment to eternalize things. Lifting that Cup with Lanny, the three of us. One of my all-time favourite photos, regardless of whether I have sweats on or not. I played in 95 percent of the games to win a Stanley Cup. My name is on the Stanley Cup.”

  That everyone’s name in this Flames organization reached that hallowed status that day in May 1989 is justice. It was, over a period of nearly a decade, one of the NHL’s finest programs, just poorly situated behind the juggernaut in Edmonton that hogged five Stanley Cups and six finals appearances in eight seasons.

  Today, there are conflicting mindsets from those Flames players who carted the Cup around the Forum ice in 1989. And the divide depends primarily on age—how long they’d fought to win that Cup, and how many more chances they had before hanging up their skates.

  “The teams we had after 1989, we should have won at least one more Stanley Cup and we didn’t. That’s something I often think about,” said Theo Fleury, who was a rookie in 1989. “After 1989 I never got another sniff until I went to Colorado [in 1999, a conference-finals loss to Dallas]. You don’t realize how important, how significant those times were in your life. You’re so young, you don’t realize what’s going on.

  “I’m forty-six years old today, and I think about the year after. Us losing to L.A. in six games, and we were obviously a way better team than they were. We finished [twenty-four points] ahead of them in the standings and they beat us in six games. And there were a few other times after that,” he said, the bitterness in his voice seeping through the phone line. “It just goes to show you how hard it is to win a Stanley Cup. You look at that dynasty the Oilers had. The Flames, we were trying to get there. We did one time, but we wanted to be there all the time. But because we played in the same division we had to play each other early in the playoffs, instead of meeting each other in a Stanley Cup final.