BEHIND EVERY STAR THERE’S A HOCKEY MOM
A NOD TO THE CHAUFFEURS, CHEERLEADERS AND FUNDRAISERS WHO MAKE IT ALL POSSIBLE
Kay Mcgill is already a Hall of Fame hockey mom. But her son Bob won’t let Mother’s Day go by without another deserved shout out for her influence on his career. And to the millions of other moms who give up their sleep, income and more for winter driving and lukewarm coffee, all to keep sons and daughters playing their favourite sport.
“My mom was the first female president of the Leduc ( Alta.,) Minor Hockey Association,” the retired NHL defenceman said with pride. “That was in (the ’ 70s) when women rarely got those positions. But they needed someone who could help organize the rink schedule, run the concession stand and fundraise for hockey and summer sports.
“She had to manage all the game time slots from Squirts to Jr. B. But she had tremendous leadership skills and took the bull by the horns. That’s why they put her in the Leduc Sports Hall of Fame ( a 2018 ceremony in which the Leafs Nation Network analyst was also inducted).”
Though he had to share his mom with a couple hundred other kids (and her limited spare time from a day job as an X- ray technician), there were still some intimate family moments with brothers Pat, Dean and sister Kelly, who didn’t play hockey, but often came to watch.
“We had a ’ 64 Pontiac Parisienne we called ‘ the white beast,’ a four-door with lots of room for our three hockey bags in the trunk,” Bob said with a laugh. “We might have tournaments in three different cities around central Alberta — Camrose, Red Deer, Fort Saskatchewan — on one weekend. But somehow, mom and dad never missed being in the stands.”
AMAZING GRACE
Should a statue for the nation’s hockey moms be erected, we nominate Grace Sutter.
Helping to run a cattle farm in Viking, Alta., while raising seven sons, six of whom made it to the NHL, is at least worthy of a pedestal. First, you had to admire her bravery before any of the sextet even skated on a big- league rink. If their legendary hayloft ball hockey games were getting too boisterous or disturbed the herd in the barn beneath, she would go up into the midst of their roughhousing and snatch the tennis ball.
“The cows had to get used to the noise,” Grace said in the book Six Shooters. “I’d be milking when the boys would come in and head up for a quick game. Somehow, despite the yelling, the cows kept still and I kept milking. When it was time to eat, I had to climb right up there and get them.”
She and husband Louie saw Brian, Brent, Darryl, Duane, Rich and Ron through junior hockey and about 5,000 combined NHL games. Almost 45 years after Brian was the first NHLER in the family, with the St. Louis Blues, son Brandon keeps Grace’s flame burning with the Canucks.
Grace raised a few Cup winners in her brood, but no Lady Byng Trophy winners yet.
TEACHING TEEDER
Teeder Kennedy, “the quintessential Leaf ” as described by Conn Smythe, had the quintessential role model.
“I once asked him, ‘ Who was your hero?’” Mark Kennedy said at his late father’s Legends Row statue unveiling. “I expected him to say Charlie Conacher, but he said, ‘ My mother. She was a little Irish woman who had two husbands die under terrible circumstances ( Kennedy’s father in a hunting accident 11 days before his birth). She raised five children by turning her home into a restaurant, washing floors in the Bell telephone building and working the concession stand at the local rink. She was a woman with the kind of perseverance and unwavering courage that you
learned from.”
SON ALWAYS SHINES
In the early days of cable sports TV shows in the 1980s in Toronto, a female caller complained that a young local lad named Brendan Shanahan wasn’t getting any media coverage. Listening in, the future Leafs president immediately recognized his mother, Rosaleen.
“I banned her from calling,” Shanahan said with a laugh at his Hockey Hall of Fame induction. “Then she started using a fake name. She kept telling me it wasn’t her. But she has the thickest Irish brogue and wasn’t fooling anyone.”
Shanahan was ever grateful for Rosaleen filling a void after his firefighter father, Donal, died of Alzheimer’s. She got her driver’s license and commuted from Toronto to London on weekends to watch her son play with the Knights.
woman power
Hayley Wickenheiser also had a great example set for her before becoming a hockey mom herself.
Marilyn was a phys- ed teacher in Shaunavon, Sask., who joined husband Tom in launching Hayley’s career, though neither parent pushed it. Hayley, who has gone from Canadian Olympic star to a historic player development role with the Maple Leafs, recalled her mother wanted a worthy pastime, then worried about her chosen sport.
“Many times, mom said, ‘Are you sure you want to keep playing? This is kind of hard,’” Wickenheiser said. “They both were just kind of quietly there for me. They went into debt every four years to go to the Olympics and really put their life into hockey, because women weren’t obviously making the big money. I owe them a debt of gratitude.”
Hayley’s son, Noah, now in his 20s and in college, enjoyed the game growing up, and as Wickenheiser proudly noted, was able to sneak through often heavy security every time Canada won a medal to join his mom in the on-ice celebration.
Fellow Hall member Angela Ruggiero of the U. S. national team is married with two boys and was also a trailblazer.
“In Grade 2 for career day, I came to school in hockey equipment,” she said. “I knew I wanted to play. So I’m thankful to my mom and dad for helping a 7-year-old do it, in California of all places.”
BIG- LEAGUE BOY
The late Wade Belak once brought his mom to Toronto from North Battleford, Sask., to see him play in the Big Smoke.
One of Lorraine’s first stops was the Air Canada Centre’s Leafs store, where she expected to see her plugger son’s No. 2 sweater prominently alongside stars Mats Sundin, Tie Domi and Curtis Joseph. She was deflated to see not even one, but quick thinking Wade explained he was so popular, the store must have been sold out.
Wade said he and Lorraine kept an agreement from his minor hockey days right through to the NHL: She gave him $ 5 for every goal he scored.
Young Mike Brown was a rollerblader in the Chicago suburbs before his mother saw a learn- to- skate brochure and signed him up. A few years earlier in the same region, six- year- old Ed Olczyk wanted to quit skating after his first lesson because of sore feet. But mom Diana had paid for several weeks and insisted he go back.
“Tough love,” Olczyk said years later, though Diana did have to pay twice for new skates. She figured the white ones she first bought were fine for both boys and girls, until Ed’s coach politely took her aside to explain.
Goalie Garret Sparks’ mom, Lisa, also drove him around the Chicago area to countless arenas.
“Parents are your support system when all else fails,” he said. “She made a lot of good friends through hockey, but a hockey mom is a full- time job. ...
“We were in the car every Thursday night, it seemed, and the rest of the week were practices. We wouldn’t be home until 11: 30 p. m., and then she had to get us out of bed for school in the morning. It’s a full shift.”
THE RIGHT NOTE
Not only did Alma Clark do a good share of the driving to get her three young sons to hockey practice, she logged plenty of air miles with husband Les, following Wendel, Don and Kerry to various NHL, minor pro and junior rinks.
“You never forget Mother’s Day,” Clark told younger teammates one day in the Leafs room.
One of Wendel’s earliest lessons about commitment from Alma had nothing to do with hockey. The future Leafs captain asked for saxophone lessons as a teen because he thought it looked cool. He quickly lost interest, but Alma wouldn’t let him give it up until he learned
some rudimentary pieces.
DON’T MAKE ME COME DOWN THERE
The Leafs had a few overly demonstrative minor hockey moms before the crackdown on excessive parental behaviour at games. Doug Gilmour humorously recalled his mom, Dolly, once reached over the boards with her purse to try to hit the referee.
“But she’s also the one who deals with the report cards and school. Dad’s the one who gets home after work and takes you to practice. Both had good days and bad days with me.”
When Zach Hyman got in his first NHL fight with Detroit’s Darren Helm, it wasn’t father Stu that Hockey Night in Canada cameras tracked in the stands, but wife Vicky, yelling her support.
“I think my dad gave her a little shove to quiet down a bit,” Zach said with a laugh. “But that’s my mom. Five boys and she’s pretty protective of us.”
Other mothers are a lot more shy. When action got frantic around James Reimer’s crease as the Leafs battled the Bruins to seven games in the 2013 playoffs, TV shots caught Marlene covering her face or hiding behind April, Reimer’s wife.
“I’m sure I took a few years off their lives,” Reimer said, laughing. “( Marlene) drove me around a lot, gave me plenty of support. She taught me how to act as a person, and that translates on to the ice.”
NANA, HEY HEY
Let’s not forget the grandmothers.
The first netminder Wayne Gretzky ever faced was Mary, his Polish grandma. She would sit patiently in a living room chair while the two- year- old future Great One would try to score between her feet with a mini-stick and rubber ball.
In the 1960s, whenever he was named one of the three stars at the Gardens, goalie Johnny Bower began giving a wave of his blocker during his post- game bow, a secret signal to his wife’s mother watching at home. It evolved into recognition for all matriarchs among Leafs fans.
But one night Bower was given a star he thought was undeserved and didn’t wave. He was surprised to get many letters from angry grannies.