The toughest player in hockey

The three Hanson brothers from the movie, "Slapshot" were actually the three Carlson brothers from Virginia, Minnesota. As junior players they'd come down from the range for summer hockey games at the Golden Valley Ice Center. They made "Slapshot" look like a tea party in comparison to this, the first summer hockey league ever in Minnesota.

There were some major league battles, and the participants were tough. Jack Carlson went on to become one of the most notorious fighters in the history of the NHL. He had that long reach, so he'd grab you by the throat and punch you lights out.

Once, in a classic WHA "hockey game" Jack and Bill Butters were team-mates for the Minnesota Fighting Saints. They got into it with the entire Hartford Whalers team, and during that half hour brawl Jack put noted fighter, Nick Fotiu out for the count, three separate times as they challenged each other from the penalty box and tried it again. Finally, the police arrived to save the lives of some of the combatants. I first heard this story from Nick Fotiu, himself. "Carlson is the greatest fighter ever in the league," Nick admitted.

I get an occasional in-depth review of that infamous brawl when I visit the Butter's family for dinner. The tradition is for family guests to listen to the recording from the original radio broadcast. Jack Carlson is Bill's nomination for the toughest guy in hockey, and Butters, himself, was no ballerina on ice. Bill once sprinted across the ice and dove head-first into the opponents box just because someone had insulted him.

I met Jack Carlson once, and when we shook hands I was grateful he was shaking my hand and not my neck. But, I never got on the ice with Jack, or against him, thank God. So I will limit my nominations for the toughest player in hockey to those I've worked with on the ice.

In New York there was Barry Beck, a 6'3" specimen whose body resembled Arnold Shwarzenegger's. I never saw Barry in a fight, because by that stage of his career, no one wanted him. He had fought in every single junior game of his life, and his first year in the NHL was a similar experience. His goal at 32 years old was to avoid fighting the rest of his life, and that was his reason for not wearing a helmet. He wanted opponents to think he was the same old "Bubba" Beck.

This article, however, is not about fighting ability, it's about toughness, an asset Carlson, Butters, and Beck had by the truckload. Toughness is defined in different ways, in different sports. To an offensive lineman in football, toughness is measured not only by the ability to dish out big hits, but also by his willingness to take a cheap shot and not retaliate.

In high school hockey, a player hurts his team when he retaliates. It's different in professional or junior hockey, where the ref calls the same number of penalties on each team no matter who violates the rules most often. Toughness at any level of sport is defined as the willingness and determination to continue playing for your team no matter what the opponent does. Toughness also means never giving up no matter how severe the test: training hard through pain and boredom while others are taking the day off.

This kind of toughness reminds me of another New York Ranger, Donny Maloney, who stayed in the league for years, because he was one of the toughest athletes ever. Don didn't fight. He wasn't very big. He was a poor skater, a poor stick-handler, and had only a fair shot. He didn't score many goals or have a lot of assists. I didn't matter if he had a broken leg to accompany his chronic bad back. With cuts, bruises, and a taped up body, Don Maloney came to the rink to play.

He was a pro's pro, so respected by his peers he became the MVP of an NHL All-Star game. Don Maloney was the ultimate grinder--a great role model for any youngster with limited talent and size--living proof of how far you can go in this game if you show up every day with a positive attitude and a relentless work ethic.

While Donny gets my ultimate respect, I have only one vote and it has to go elsewhere.

I think of two defensemen in New Jersey, Scott Stevens and Ken Daneyko. They might fight if necessary to protect a team-mate, but you can't do anything to get them to take a penalty that would hurt their team. Slash them, spear, cross-check; forget it. They care enough about the team and about winning; they'll just ignore the insult and avoid the penalty. After a combined 35 years in the league, they're still diving in front of pucks and absorbing sticks and elbows in front of the net to protect the goalkeeper. They ice their bodies for an hour after every game, because of the abuse they take, but they show up the next day ready to risk their life for their team.

I sometimes wonder, when I watch a USHL game, how we can so thoroughly mis-interpret the idea of "toughness." Is it tough to forget your team and take a dumb penalty by slashing an opponent in the back, or stopping in the midst of a scoring rush to challenge an opponent who made illegal contact; then to whine and threaten while hiding behind a coat of armor in the form of face masks, helmets, padding and linesman who break things up before it gets dangerous.

In the days when the Soviet hockey teams were the best in the world, they were also the toughest. When they'd play an NHL team bent on intimidating them, it didn't matter how hard they were slashed. The Soviet player never flinched; he just scored another goal. He'd take any kind of abuse the opponent could throw at him and keep doing his job.

Jay Cates was an extremely tough, former Gopher forward. He scored a playoff goal against Michigan State that turned the entire series around. As he carried the puck from his own blue line toward the net, the stick of every State player made brutal contact, and opponents were hanging all over him. He ended up carrying two defensemen into the goal to tie the game.

Jay Cates was a lot like Donny Maloney. His limited skills were never a factor. When he set his sights on a challenge, nothing stopped him--not injury, sickness, or fatigue, and certainly not a hurdle as insignificant as a cross-check or a high stick to the head.

My vote for the toughest player in hockey goes to Gwen Anderson, a 5'2", 115 pound forward and one of the most determined competitors in the Community Olympic Development Program for the top players in the state. Gwen may not look imposing, but she has overcome some genuinely tough hurdles in order to pursue the game she loves.

Eighteen months ago Gwen was diagnosed with Hodgkins Disease, Cancer of the lymphatic system. Prior to the diagnosis, toward the end of her sophomore hockey season, Gwen felt her game slipping and experienced a loss of weight and strength.

She resisted the downside in the only way she knows. She worked harder, thinking she just needed to build up more strength. "It was very frustrating," she says now, "because I though I was losing my ability as a hockey player."

This was especially tough for a girl who had made it to the USA Hockey national camp the preceding summer as the youngest participant. "In some ways it was kind of a relief to find out I had Cancer," Gwen said. "at least I knew it wasn't my playing ability."

After six months of chemo-therapy, Gwen began radiation treatment, and of course, lost more strength and weight. "The chemo wasn't as hard on me as it was for others," she says in a typical Gwen Anderson reaction. Obstacles don't seem to bother her as much as the rest of us.

"When she started to lose her hair it was difficult," explains her father, "but that was probably the only time she ever had a couple of tears. She's just been determined to come back and play hockey. As parents we sometimes wonder who's teaching who here," continues Mr. Anderson. "Gwen is such a great example of toughness and determination for the rest of us."

In June of that first year, Gwen began participating in the CODP program, which includes rigorous workouts on-ice and off. Because she was weak from the Cancer and chemotherapy, Gwen only made it through part of the practice. She left apologetically each day, wishing she had the strength to train longer.

"The hardest thing about being sick wasn't the cancer or the treatments--or even the hair loss," recalls Gwen."It was so embarrassing to be a poor hockey player and have to quit practice early."

Gwen's cancer has been in remission for a year now, and during that time she has regained some of her weight. I am told that her skills have not yet returned to the level she enjoyed as a sophomore, but in spite of that, Gwen is now one of the top forwards in the state.

Thanks to her work ethic and positive attitude, this summer Gwen improved her strength and skating in the CODP off-season program. No one took greater advantage of the weigh room. After skating hard for an hour and doing the off-ice pylos with the rest of the team, Gwen would do several heavy sets on the squat sled. She is determined to make her legs stronger than they were before the cancer invaded her body.

Some of us find it difficult to work out every day in the summer when there are so may easier options. But try keeping the training schedule when the doctor tells you your muscles may not have the memory to regain their former level. If we think it's tough to push ourselves to the limit in a hard skating workout, try it when chemo-therapy saps your strength and energy.

Like a great track athlete, Gwen focuses on her goals rather than the hurdles. She gives to others rather than dwelling on her own problems. She cares enough to visit kids at the Oncology center of Children's Hospital. It's important for her to get the message to others that it might seem really tough right now, but focus on the days ahead when you'll be healthy. "I never considered giving up hockey," she says. "It was not an option."

Toughness is facing the hurdles of your sport or of life with a positive attitude, never losing focus on winning, never forgetting team goals, and never abandoning your personal commitments to improvement.

It isn't easy to ignore that cheap shot. It isn't easy to train hard when everyone else is taking a break. It isn't easy to overcome some of the most unfortunate obstacles of life. "It's all part of the examination," are the words of Gary Player, who overcame obstacles to become one of the greatest golfers in the world by his work ethic and determination.

Eric Heiden achieved one of the most remarkable performances in Olympic History by winning every speed-skating event in 1980 from the sprint to the marathon. He was asked about the grueling training regimen, the ups and downs of competition, and about winning five Gold medals. His response was, "The events of our lives are relatively insignificant in comparison to how we deal with them."

In that respect Gwen Anderson has passed the ultimate examination, and we can all learn from her about toughness.

-Jack Blatherwick

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