Dear Players’ Wives,
I’m picking Luci up at the airport on Tuesday and I wanted to let you know before you become sick with worry about where I am and whether I’m okay or not.
Everything’s fine so don’t fret. Get some sleep if you can. Once Luci and I and the cat get settled and get a few things done, I promise I’ll let you know and we can carry on trying to make you comfortable in the big city after you’ve been away all summer and are finding it difficult to adjust and need a friend while hubby’s in Philadelphia killing penalties.
I know what you’re thinking and stop, you’re embarrassing me.
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.
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!