Of course Carey Price is playing much better. He’s married now. That’s what often happens.
Josh Gorges scored a goal in Vancouver. He got married this summer too.
Women are amazing and mysterious creatures. They turn four walls into a home just by adding a couple of flowers and a table. They help struggling hockey-playing husbands find their game. They open up the fridge door, pull out a carrot and a jar of relish, and half an hour later there’s a gourmet meal sitting there.
Unless your wife’s a lousy cook of course. In that case, disregard the last sentence.
Habs wives need to be happy and comfortable. If the Canadiens have the happiest wives and girlfriends, the team wins the Stanley Cup. That’s how it works and in my next life when I’m smart I’ll go to university and do a thesis on this very subject.
Look at the picture below. That’s Ken Mosdell, Boom Boom Geoffrion, and the Rocket, happy as can be with their really happy wives. Except for maybe Boomer. What’s wrong, Boomer? (Maybe they told him to stop singing).
Players and their families are gathering in Montreal as things get closer, and I’d like to give a big welcome to Myrtle Gionta, Gladys Moen, Henrietta Price, Ethel Gorges, Wilma Pacioretty, Bertha Bourque, Eunice Parros, Gertrude Prust, Mildred Bouillon, Daisy Drewiske, Hazel Emelin, and Rosemary Eller.
These ones are swell dames. Real lookers.
Welcome ladies. Apparently Schwartz’s steaks are as good as their smoked meat if you feel like dining out.
You see? I’m not even flirting. This is the new me and it hasn’t been easy.
I’m playing hard to get. Strategy.
Further to my recent story about how I would make sure the players’ wives are comfortable if I was only given the chance. I’m here for the wives.
As you can see from this 1989 photo at the Forum, it took two guys to look after the wives, which is ridiculous. I’d do it all myself, thereby saving the team half the money.
And it seems cold in there. The girls are wearing sweaters. If I was looking after things, I’d turn up the heat.
And where’s the booze? And the dancing?
I’ve found, through trial and error, that the best way to feel melancholy is a quart of tequila, some Four Aces sherry, and a gram of crystal meth mixed with a couple of black Kashmir hash brownies dipped in powdered quaaludes.
And it’s times like this that I sit and look out the window and wonder.
I wonder how the players’ wives are doing.
Are they comfortable?
Or are they feeling down because their husbands are always fishing or at the golf course?
I want them to know that I’m thinking of them, and if I can round up a big house somewhere, they’re all welcome to come over and we’ll light candles and listen to Miles Davis, and if they feel any discomfort anywhere, they can tell me and I’ll massage it.
Women love good listeners, and I can pretend to be one of the best. I’ll listen so intently, my eyes will glaze over. And if they want to model clothes they’ve brought just in case they decide to have a pajama party, I’ll watch and compliment and take close-up pictures, if that’s what they like.
If it’ll help them sleep better, I’ll go for a midnight swim with them. And yes, if they want to wrestle, I’ll do that too.
I want the wives to be comfortable.
It’s all about them.
It might be my favourite hockey picture and it doesn’t even have players in it. No action around the crease, no big goal or big save, no packed building full of screaming fans.
It’s simply a bunch of Habs wives getting together in the 1950s at Maurice and Lucille Richard’s house in Montreal to watch their men skate and shoot. I wish I could name these ladies, but all I can do is point out Lucille Richard, in the white blouse, third from right. And there were more than the six ladies, as you can see some lovely legs over on the far left.
The game looks tense. And there’s a reflection of Maurice in the mirror!
Forget for a moment about suspensions and finger-biting and finger-taunting and stretchers during this Stanley Cup final. Think for a bit about hockey wives, those beautiful creatures who keep the kids quiet during game-day naps, who have steaks or pasta ready in the afternoon, who listen as hubby goes on about how the coach doesn’t understand him.
The wives and girlfriends are the ones behind the scenes, playing a role almost as important as a linemate. Although Toe Blake might have disagreed.
These are beautiful Habs wives of one of the late 1950′s powerhouse teams that won five straight Stanley Cups. I”ve shown this picture before but it was smaller the last time and I’ve learned since how to make it bigger.
I love this picture. It was taken in the home of Maurice Richard, with many of the wives and girfriends obviously together to watch a game. Lucille Richard, wife of the Rocket, is in the white blouse, fourth from the left. The game looks tense.
My friend Christopher whom I’ve never met but would like to some day, suggested I show pages of my scrapbook from time to time on quiet Habs news days. Just recently I had posted some of the pages but I’ve decided if I’m going to do it right, I should start over and work through it.
My dad and I started the scrapbook together when I was little and he gradually bowed out and let me carry on. It’s old now, many of the pages are loose, and it’s battered and beat up. But it’s my treasure. I used to invite friends from the old neighbourhood over – “hey, you wanna come over and see my scrapbook?” And they would and then we’d play road hockey and pose like the players we had just seen in the book.
Over the next few months I’ll post various pages from this old book. I hope you enjoy it as much as the neighbourhood kids did.
A Christmas card Maurice Richard sent me when I was seven sits on the inside cover at the beginning.
Inside the Christmas card
The action photo at the top shows the Rocket just seconds before his Achilles tendon was sliced, which kept him out for months. And on the right, a nice family photo of the Richard clan. Also on this page, Rocket shows sons Normand and Andre his massive scrapbook.
- An autographed picture sent to me from the Rocket, plus some ticket stubs and a photo of Rocket looking at his goals tally are part of this page.
Henri and Lise Richard do the dishes. And the gang has a team meal.
Rocket teaches his kids the finer points of hockey, which made me envious, and a sexy photo of a figure skater adorns his wall.
On the bottom right, an injured Jean Beliveau in street clothes sits and talks with Dickie Moore.
Circa 1954 Canadiens’ players, wives and girlfriends get together at Butch Bouchard’s Cabaret to enjoy some pops and chuckles. Bouchard (in glasses), Maurice and Lucille Richard, Ken Mosdell, Doug Harvey, Elmer Lach and all the rest of this happy bunch let off some steam during those glorious days when the Habs were close to embarking on five straight Stanley Cups.
Just behind Bouchard and to the left of Elmer Lach is Gerry McNeil with wife Theresa. At the back, being served by the waiter, appears to be Bernie Geoffrion (with Marlene), and it’s possibly Jackie Leclair sitting beside Geoffrion. And the fellow to the Rocket’s right is Callum McKay (I think).
(Photo from “Gerry McNeil: Goaltender Under Pressure” by David McNeil)