David Banks-Imagn ImagesI have to admit that The Maven has taken the passing of Hall of Fame goalie Glenn Hall hard. Tearful hard.
Hall, who passed away at 94, was one of the precious few NHL players I remained in touch with after his playing days. He was a low-key, friendly kind of guy I got to know during his starry days with the Blackhawks.
I always had a fascination with goalies, starting with Charlie Rayner and then Gump Worsley of the Rangers while Hall was one of the few opposition non-goalies I got to know.
When the Chicagoans were playing at MSG, Hall and I would have lunch and just schmooze about hockey. I remember one Saturday afternoon when he shut out the Blueshirts at the Old Garden but it wasn't so much his splendid performance that day that's so memorable.
After getting back to my apartment at 348 East 19th Street, I found that it had been ransacked.
Which, by the way, that's what Hall, Stan Mikita, Bobby Hull and those other Windy City skaters did to the Blueshirts in those days. Ransack the Rangers.
But it was hard – even for a fanatic Rangers rooter – not to like Glenn. In those unmasked goalie days you could see Glenn's face clearly and there was something very dignified and comfortable about him.
I may be wrong but I like to think that I was the first to realize the Hall was revolutionizing the art of goaltending. Like no other puck stopper, he occasionally would drop to the ice with his pads spread in what observers now call "The Butterfly."
My description – when writing about it – was to call it "An Inverted V" and left it at that. He won a Stanley Cup with that "Inverted V" in the spring of 1961 beating Gordie Howe's Red Wings in a sixth game at Detroit. I covered that game and never forgot it.
The winners originally were supposed to fly right back to Chicago where owner Bill Wirtz had planned a massive party at a big hotel. But an unexpected spring blizzard had hit the Motor City so the celebration was held in the Detroit Leland Hotel.
I had the pleasure of being there and found Hall sipping a beer, alone in a corner. (I guess like the lonely goalies should do.) Unlike Glenn, I was wildly excited – since I was doing a story for Sport magazine about him – and approached in high glee.
"Glenn," I half-shouted; this is terrific; Chicago's first Stanley Cup since 1938 and your first. How do you feel?"
And with the calm that allowed this man to play 502 consecutive regular season games without a mask, Mister Goalie took a sip of beer and replied: "I'm enthused!"
It was a priceless reply from a priceless pal. So, pardon me if I close my computer and shed another couple of tears over the remarkable and so likeable and so competent Mister Goalie – Glenn Hall.