From Calgary to Swift Current, looking back on the players - and coaches - that made the WHL rough and tumble back in the day.
Some of my earliest memories of watching junior hockey in Calgary involved people with the nicknames 'Punch' and 'Tiger' in the early 1970s. If I didn't know it was the wild, wild west, I was going to find out pretty quickly.
The Western League was called the Western Canada Hockey League back then. It was a big deal going to watch the Calgary Centennials play at the old Corral. The one thing you could always count on was entertainment, whether it be a ton of offense or fisticuffs galore, it seemed like you were always going to get plenty of both.
In one of the first games I watched in person, Calgary's best player was a teenager by the name of Bob Nystrom – you may have heard of him; he went on to score one of the NHL's most iconic goals less than a decade later. I sat behind the New Westminster Bruins bench and recall feisty coach Ernie 'Punch' McLean constantly beaking at the referees and Calgary players. He said something to one of his defensemen, a guy named Bob Stumpf. Next shift, Stumpf goes out and hunts down Nystrom and starts swinging at him. Nystrom was an extremely tough cookie in his own right and held his own. But I was so mad at Punch McLean for directing that attack that I held up my fist to him and told him I was going to teach him what a real punch was. Yes, I know, big words from a snot-nosed kid. McLean didn't see me, but I pretended he did and that he was purposely trying to avoid me.
I returned a few weeks later with the Swift Current Broncos in town and watched as Tiger Williams – you may have heard of him – bulldozed goalie John Davidson (yes, that John Davidson) in the Centennials crease. I was sitting in the lower corner seats and couldn't believe it when all the players skated off the bench and dropped the gloves, seemingly right in front of me.
As the years went by, the WCHL became the WHL in 1978; my Centennials evolved into the Calgary Wranglers; the Bruins, still under the direction of my nemesis Punch McLean, won four consecutive WCHL titles from 1975-78 (and two Memorial Cups); and dynamic league stars such as Bryan Trottier, Danny Gare, Bernie Federko, Bill Derlago, Brian Propp, Laurie Boschman and Doug Wickenheiser went on to become big names in the NHL.
But I never forgot about the scrappy players as well. Their toughness made the WCHL a memorable league to watch. Names like Paul Baxter, Bob and Brad Gassoff, Kim Clackson, Bryan Maxwell, Archie Henderson, Boris Fistric, Mel Hewitt, Gary Rissling and Torrie Robertson had star value, even if it didn't always come in goals and assists.
As you get older, you start appreciating more the players who combine both immense skill and toughness, and you realize it's those skaters who essentially become the glue players on successful teams. The importance of fighting has diminished gradually as the '70s turned into the '80s, '90s and current century, but fighting as a deterrent still holds on-ice value.
In the mid-1980s, I went from junior hockey fan to junior hockey reporter, covering both home and road games for the Joe Sakic-era Swift Current Broncos. Those teams had a stronger focus on speed and skill rather than toughness, but that doesn't mean they didn't have bruisers. Defensemen Ryan McGill, Gord Green and Ian Herbers were gritty, willing and able. They provided more space for Sakic, Sheldon Kennedy and Peter Soberlak to be the best line in the league one season. And Chris Mantyka was hands-down the most durable fighter in the WHL during the half-season he played before sadly perishing in a team bus accident in 1986. He couldn't be knocked down, out or even off-balance in any of his 10 or 12 fights in those 31 games he played. Mantyka didn't lose a single battle until the very end.
But if you were to ask me which player was the most accomplished fighter in all my years watching and covering the game, I think the answer would surprise you. I'll start by giving you a few hints – and the numbers won't jump off the screen at you. This skater played three seasons in the WHL and had just 410 penalty minutes, a relatively paltry total for a supreme fighter. He stood just 5-foot-11 and never tipped the scales north of 200 pounds. He went on to play more than 1,000 games in the NHL, and he's a big, yet unheralded, reason why three of his teams won Stanley Cups.
When he broke in with the Moose Jaw Warriors in the mid-1980s, he wasn't a marquee name right away. But he quickly became one, skating alongside Theo Fleury for the next three seasons. That player is middleweight Mike Keane.
Neither in the years before or the ones since have I witnessed a player who could punch with such force, speed and precision as this warrior. A leftie, Keane wasn't just a skilled player who could look after himself when the gloves dropped. He ascended into a class of his own when it came to fighting. In his first year, he had to fight to prove himself. And he did with aplomb, not to mention a flurry of fist bombs.
By his second year, would-be opponents often turned the other cheek, knowing Keane's rapid-fire southpaw punches couldn't be defended when one hand is grabbing sweater and the other is trying to swing away. Keane led the league in delivering black eyes. Not surprisingly. Fleury topped 100 points that season. The extra space Keane generated for him made a difference. By his third year, Keane hardly had to fight at all, save for the occasional upstart foolishly trying to make an impression. It always ended with Keane literally making an impression in the rookie's face.
Pound for pound, Keane was the toughest player in all of hockey in my books. Hands down. And the fact he had a 22-year career in pro hockey shows he knew what to do with the puck as well. Trust me, I'm not pulling any punches here.
Speaking of punches, may as well come full circle. Did you know, Punch McLean, my first true encounter with hockey punches, was once suspended 25 games for punching a referee as he skated by the New Westminster bench? And did you know that at the age of 76, Punch went missing for four days and five nights without food after getting lost while prospecting for gold? He's still with us today at age 90.