Petes media room always fun when Armstrong was there
Many familiar faces have graced the Peterborough Petes media/scouts room over the years, but few left an impression like George Armstrong.
One of the most enjoyable aspects of being a sportswriter in Peterborough is the environment of that room on game nights where National Hockey League media and Ontario Hockey League personnel gather to get lineups, scratches, a bite to eat and socialize in the 90 minutes leading up to puck drop.
I was first introduced to this environment when I was in university in my early 20s and working as a statistician for the Petes. It was an incredible opportunity to network with NHL personnel and media and played a role in my career path.
It was a bit intimidating at first to see faces of former NHL stars turned executives or scouts who you were used to seeing on TV, not sitting next to you.
I was a bit too young to see him play but, as a lifelong Toronto Maple Leafs fan, I had to do a double take the first time I saw Armstrong in the old west corridor dressing room, which no longer exists, that doubled for the media room. My longtime colleague Pete Dalliday used to say, “Where else can you get a sandwich and a shower before a game” as the table holding snacks and drinks sat next to the shower.
When Armstrong walked in the room, he never got far before someone yelled out to him. Armstrong would find the source and quickly shoot back some humorous reply, the type of jab you’d give a teammate in a dressing room, which always brought a laugh but was also taken affectionately by whoever was the brunt of the joke.
Armstrong was comfortable in his skin and, despite his legendary status, he was just one of the guys. There was no sign of ego or self-importance. In fact, his humour was just as often self-effacing. He gave time to anyone interested in talking to him and had a way of making people feel at ease.
I recall many times when he held court with a captive audience telling stories from his playing days. Like the time he borrowed dentures from a mortician he knew and swapped them out with teammate Johnny Bower’s dentures while the legendary goalie was in the shower. As Bower later fiddled to fit them in his mouth, it didn’t take long to figure out what had happened, “Chief, you (expletive deleted),” rang out across the locker room, said Armstrong.
One particular night stands out because it was a terrible snowstorm and the media room was virtually empty. Only myself, Dalliday and one local scout, Dick Todd, who was scouting for the New York Rangers, were there when Armstrong walked in. Todd asked Armstrong how he was able to get here on such a night, Highway 115 had been closed as far as Todd knew.
“I just point the sled in the right direction and the dogs know the way,” Armstrong retorted.
The two men proceeded to exchange insults and stories, all in good humour, that had Dalliday and I in stitches. As the game drew near, we were torn between leaving the room and our job responsibilities.
But there was one incident I’ll never forget that really showed what type of man George Armstrong was.
He arrived a bit late one night and only one roster and stats package was left, which all scouts and media rely on during games especially in the pre-Internet age when this occurred. He gathered it up and then set it down beside the coffee maker as he poured himself a drink.
That’s when a young man who was mentally challenged came in as he did every game to get a roster and a doughnut. He saw the roster package on the table and went to grab it when Armstrong snatched it up first.
The man grabbed the other end of it and tried to take it from Armstrong. George, in a patient manner, explained to the man that it was his and he needed it to do his job. The man, who was almost nonverbal, became agitated and began to yell and pull at the paper.
George continued, quite compassionately, to explain why he needed it.
The man grabbed the hot coffee Armstrong had left on the table and threw it all over the former Maple Leafs captain.
Without making a sound and as calmly as one could, Armstrong let go of the roster, grabbed a pile of napkins and began drying himself off. He then turned to the handful of us in the room and said, “I probably deserved that.” I’m not sure too many people would have handled it so gracefully.
It’s been about a decade since Armstrong, who died Sunday at 90, last graced the media room, it’s a little less fun without him.