OUR blue-collar icon
Pat Quinn forged a bond with this city as Leafs coach so it’s appropriate his Hall of Fame plaque will reside in Toronto
He was the erudite, cigar-chomping Big Irishman, quick to bark at anyone he perceived as the enemy; quicker still to crack a smile and spin a tale, a twinkle in his eye making it obvious the punchline was coming.
Pat Quinn, who enters the Hockey Hall of Fame as a builder on Monday, wasn’t from Toronto, but he forged a bond with this city, and engendered a loyalty amongst its hockey fans, that is unshakeable. He was ours. As a coach, arriving in 1998, he guided the Maple Leafs to their last stretch of sustained success. Twice during Quinn’s seven seasons here his team made the conference final. The Leafs haven’t even qualified for the playoffs twice since his departure.
The connection, and the affection, started even earlier when, as a hulking defender, Quinn absolutely crushed Bobby Orr with an open-ice check during the 1969 playoffs. Quinn was wearing blue and white at the time and for fans of an overmatched and often pitiable Leafs squad, it is one of the few memories from the post-1967 doldrums worth clinging to.
Ours indeed. In truth, Pat Quinn had more success with teams wearing the red maple leaf — coaching Canada to gold medals at the Olympics, World Cup and world juniors — than the blue one.
And it was Philadelphia that he guided to an NHL-record 35-game unbeaten streak and a Stanley Cup final. Vancouver too, he took to a Cup finale and, later, was part owner of a major junior team in that city.
And always through his career, his Hamilton roots were proudly showing. A blue-collar sensibility was ingrained in Quinn growing up in the east end of Steeltown. It manifested itself in a relentless desire to win, an admirable work ethic and an appreciation for family, friends and, perhaps contrary to the narrative, a fine single-malt scotch.
To understand why we cling to him in Toronto, however, some perspective is needed. You have to remember what the Leafs were before Quinn arrived.
After Pat Burns — the other hall-offame coach revered by the generations of Leafs fans with no Stanley Cup parade memories — took Toronto to its second consecutive conference final in 1994, the team slipped into a morass. The Leafs seemed rudderless. There was some talent, to be sure. Mats Sundin arrived in 1994 and Doug Gilmour was still trying to energize the squad, but after that surprise post-season success under Burns there was an unmistakable feeling of decline around the team. Many nights, it felt like the Leafs were desperately trying not to lose. They played a defensive style of game that shackled the top players. They were dull.
Enter Quinn, who had the countenance of an old west sheriff. A John Wayne type, you could imagine Quinn bursting through swinging saloon doors, guns blazing, spurs jingling; then, bad guys vanquished, sitting at the bar, pulling the cork out of a jug with his teeth and disseminating wisdom over a couple of shot glasses.
Quinn gave the Leafs back their swagger.
To continue the western analogy, he opened the barn door and let his horses run.
It seemed counter-intuitive. Take a team that many dismissed as lacking in talent and let them try to win on skill. A plodding, snow-shoed defenceman as a player, Quinn wanted his Leafs to use speed, puck pressure and offence to win in a league that increasingly focused on playing a shutdown game.
Perhaps long-time NHL executive Brian Burke put it best when he joked: “Pat couldn’t play for Pat’s team.”
Underlying that skill, giving the squad some backbone, was toughness. Quinn never forgot what allowed him to survive in the league for nine seasons. He didn’t mind a good, purposeful scrap.
Not only was it fun — how often has that been an adjective to describe Leafs hockey over the last 40-plus years — but it worked. Dignity returned to the moribund franchise.
The Leafs quickly became an NHL force, jumping a ridiculous 28 points in the standings in Quinn’s first year behind the bench and making it to the conference final before bowing out to Buffalo. They also scored 74 more goals and, aided by the stellar goaltending of Curtis Joseph, yielded six fewer despite that go-for-broke approach.
“We’re playing with confidence now and it all comes from Pat,” Tie Domi explained early in that first turnaround season. “He’s always saying things like, ‘You guys are more talented than I thought you were.’ After a while, you start to believe it.”
In his seven seasons behind the Toronto bench, Quinn’s Leafs played 80 playoff games spread over 13 series and missed the playoffs just once. Three times they reached100 points. Quinn was coach and general manager from1999 to 2003 and delivered both on the ice and to the club’s bottom line. Management would budget based on the expectation of playing five home playoff games.
Quinn, always protective of his players, had a bunker mentality and a healthy disdain for anyone not going to war with him; that included officials, the media and everyone else he perceived to be conspiring against his team.
He invented the now ubiquitous “upper-body injury” to hide what might be ailing one of his skaters. He would shield players from reporters and whatever else he perceived as a distraction. He would outlandishly carp about opponents, once suggesting Ottawa’s Daniel Alfredsson should be suspended for life for a hit on Darcy Tucker and hinting that Marian Hossa wasn’t quite so innocent when he blinded Bryan Berard in one eye with an accidental followthrough on a shot.
Quinn played the game as well off the ice as his team played on it. His press briefings were must-see theatre, insightful explanations of why things unfolded as they did or, even better, passionate dissertations on how the game should be played.
That was only part of the Quinn persona, however. For all his superficial gruffness, he was more teddy bear than grizzly, a kindly man always willing to do a little back-slapping with fans on the street or offer fatherly advice to a player. One enduring image of Quinn is of his arrival at the bench to pay his respects to the Canadian women’s team after it had just won gold at Salt Lake City. There were tears in his eyes.
Before he died in 2014, Quinn had entrenched and endeared himself as one of hockey’s statesmen; someone who belonged to the game.
But it is appropriate that his Hall of Fame plaque will forever reside in Toronto because he belongs to us as well.
“He’s always saying things like, ‘You guys are more talented than I thought you were.’ After a while, you start to believe it.” TIE DOMI ON PAT QUINN’S ABILITY TO MOTIVATE HIS PLAYERS