SPORT, April 1952
As the buzzer sounded ending the hockey game at Madison Square Garden, a happy band of New York Rangers, whooping it up as though they had just won the deciding battle for the Stanley Cup, descended upon their goalkeeper, Chuck Rayner, to congratulate him upon his 1-0 shutout of the Detroit Red Wings. To a man they swarmed over Rayner, hugging him, slapping him on the backside with their sticks and jumping on top of each other to get an admiring whack at the individual chiefly responsible for breaking the Wings’ record-tying string of 15 road games without a defeat. The fifth-place Rangers were immersed in that spontaneous, unrestrained sense of elation every underdog must feel when mediocrity is beaten back, if for just the moment.
While all this was going on, unnoticed by most of the cheering: fans at the Garden who were indulging themselves as much as the New York players, a red-jerseyed skater made his way through the milling mass of Rangers to Rayner’s side, put his gloved hand into his opponent’s, and said, “You were terrific tonight, Chuck. No kidding!”
Rayner’s face broke into a warm, somewhat surprised smile, and he replied, “Look who’s congratulating who. You were the one who did the job tonight, not me.”
The lone Red Wing to participate in that friendly gesture of sportsmanship is a remarkable 22-year-old young man named Terrance Gordon Sawehuk, number one goaltender in the National Hockey League and the player most experts agree is the likeliest candidate to succeed to the tradition of the classic goaltenders—Gordon Hainsworth, Tiny Thompson, Bill Durnan and the old Mr. Zero of the Boston Bruins, Frankie Brimsek. Only in his second full season in the league, Sawchuk already is regarded as the best goalie in Detroit history. He made the league’s all-star team and his great record last season, which saw him come within one goal of winning the most coveted prize a goalie can receive, the Vezina Trophy, also enabled him to make off with the Calder Trophy as the rookie of the year. With the 1951-52 season drawing to a close, Sawchuk is within reach of the Vezina Trophy. Of course, for Sawchuk, and for the Red Wing team as a whole, the prime target is the Stanley Cup.
When I asked Terry why he had skated over to congratulate Rayner that evening in New York, something I had never seen another National Hockey League goalie do before, his answer was direct and conclusive. “Chuck Rayner is the best, that’s all. He’s got a style all his own. When I was a boy, all I wanted to be was a Rayner. It’s a great thrill playing against a man you used to idolize, and when he comes up with that kind of a performance, well, you just feel you’ve got to say something.”
Those were modest words coming from a youngster who himself has been described almost exclusively in superlatives ever since he began his professional hockey career. In a way, they were typical of this handsome, cleancut native of Winnipeg, Manitoba. When you first meet Sawchuk, he is apt to impress you as being somewhat gruff, as if he were trying to get on top of you, beat you to the puck, if you like, the way he does on the ice. But as he talks and as his Canadian sternness melts away, you get a truer picture. Although he works at a man’s job, Sawchuk has all the mannerisms and characteristics of a guileless, unsophisticated boy. But on the ice it’s a far different story.
Someone once said that a goaltender, to be proficient at his occupation, must possess, first of all, good vision; second, split-second coordination of the hands and feet; third, concentration. As you watch Sawchuk guarding the goal mouth, you see these three things fused in their highest form. You see Sawchuk, as cool and steady as the ice he stands on, crouched for any eventuality, his brown eyes fixed impassively on the puck. Then you see him fall to the ice, executing a split with his feet, his stick in his right hand moving like lightning in the right direction. Finally, you see the puck being turned aside or smothered under him. At its best, it is artistry of the first order.
Sawchuk is the only man in the entire history of the game to win the rookie award in each of hockey’s top professional leagues. He did it with Omaha of the United States League in 1947. A year later, he did it again with Indianapolis of the American League. And in his first year in the NHL, he made off with the Calder Trophy. The most amazing part of this record, however, is the fact that his performances got progressively better as he moved into tougher competition. With Omaha, he had a 3.22 average and four shutouts. His first year with Indianapolis he had a 3.06 average. As a rookie in 1950-51, Terry piled up 11 shoutouts and had a superlative 1.98 average. By the middle of January this year, he was leading the league in shutouts with nine, and his average hovered in the 1.75 bracket.
Sawchuk’s knack for turning in shutouts has led to an amusing situation among the Red Wing players. It seems that a Detroit merchant initiated the practice last year of awarding a hat each time Sawchuk registered a shutout. To Terry, this represented a vexing problem because it is his custom never to wear hats. So he conceived of a rotation system whereby he would pass them on to his defensemen,
The first time Terry scored a shutout this season he gave his gift certificate to the Detroit trainer. Then the five defensemen were equipped in rapid order. When it came Terry’s turn again, he reluctantly gave in and awarded his certificate to veteran wing Sid Abel. “I figured it was time to give the forwards a break,” Terry said with a grin. “They can only get free hats by scoring the hat-trick, and only Gordie Howe has done it so far this season, so maybe I can shame them into doing it more often,”
It’s difficult to find a chink in Sawchuk’s superb armor, but a rival coach, Dick Irvin of the Montreal Canadiens, once thought he had. He said, “If the kid has any weakness, any weakness at all, it’s a shoulder high shot on the right side.” To understand the reasoning behind that statement, you would have to see Terry’s naked right elbow and the wide, jagged, ominouslooking scar running down its side. Behind that sear lies a story of pain and handicap that might have sent a less hardy individual off the ice for good.
To this day, Terry is not completely sure how the elbow was originally injured. He thinks he hurt it in a football game when he was 12 years old, but because it failed to bother him for two years, he gave it little attention. Then, one day when he was 14, he found he was unable to lift his right arm, much less bend the elbow. A doctor put his arm in a cast for two weeks but it wasn’t until two summers ago that Terry had his first operation to get at the root of the trouble. Prior to that he had been bothered annually by the elbow and sometimes was unable to lift the arm above his waist. In a Toronto hospital in the summer of 1950, four bone chips were removed. Last summer it was the same story, only this time the operation took place in a Detroit hospital and five more chips and a pair of inflamed tonsils came out in the bargain.
“Never again,” Terry remarked. “I didn’t mind the elbow operation, but those tonsils! I wouldn't go through it again if I had to.”
The tonsils are probably gone for good but there is still a likelihood that Terry will need further work done on the elbow. Although he has full mobility now, X-rays disclose more loose chips lodged inside.
The life a goalie leads around the net may not be quite as rough as that accorded a hard-hitting defenseman, but there is still plenty of danger involved. The first time Sawchuk ever sustained an injury as a pro it nearly meant the loss of an eye. It happened in Houston in 1947, ironically enough on his birthday, when Terry was playing for Omaha. During a gang play late in the game. Terry, watching the puck with his usual undivided attention, moved his head around and a flying stick caught him squarely on the right eyeball. That night he spent some of the most miserable moments of his life.
“When I got to the dressing room and the doctor said something about losing the eye, I broke down and cried, I didn’t want to lose an eye, much less give up my hockey career. I didn’t sleep a wink that night worrying about what I might do for a living. The next morning the news was better. They put three stitches on the eyeball and I was back in action in two weeks.”
Sawchuk is completely dedicated to his profession. He has been crazy about hockey ever since he first started ice skating when he was four years old. “My mother would take me out in 20-below weather and wait for me all day. And this went on right up until I was nine, Anything I wanted I got from her. We weren’t wealthy or anything, just average, but I always had everything I ever wanted.”
Terry was born in Winnipeg, December 28, 1929. His father, Louis, worked as a tinsmith but was invalided seven years ago in a fall from a scaffold. Since he first entered pro hockey, Terry has been the chief support of the family, which also includes a younger brother, Gerald, and a six-year-old adopted sister, Judy. An older brother died when Terry was ten.
“My big brother’s goalie pads were the first ones I ever used,” he says. “Our uncle gave them to him originally. My brother had a heart murmur and died when he was 17. I couldn't believe it when it happened. He used to take me out in Dad’s car and let me drive, and we played cards together all the time. I missed him for a long time afterwards,
“My kid brother, Gerald, is 13. He’s a right wing. He played goal last year but didn’t like it. Says there’s not enough action. It’s my hope some day in seven or eight years, if I can last that long, he’ll play right beside me on the Red Wings.”
A great booster of the Detroit organization, Sawchuk is a typical product of its fruitful farm system. He was signed to a Red Wing contract when he was 16 by a former Detroit scout, Bob Kinnear, who liked his looks when he was playing junior league hockey in Winnipeg. Terry began playing hockey in the Winnipeg bantam league for boys of 14 and under. After graduating from East Kildonan High School, where he also played baseball and football, Terry played a year of junior hockey with the Gault, Ontario, Red Wings. A year later, he moved up to Omaha where his career got under way in earnest.
Terry gives much of the credit for his development as a goalie to his three professional coaches. “At Omaha, Mud Bruneteau taught me how to block angles better. Bruneteau would take shots and I would attempt to save and this went on until I had it down pat. He was a good coach.
“Ott Heller and I, at Indianapolis, had a pact between ourselves. When I used to fall, he’d always stand by me and yell for me to get up on my feet. We worked that over and over again, me starting to fall and him hollering for me to stand up. That's a very important thing because when a guy is coming in on you, you have to try and stand up as long as possible and keep him guessing. That way you might be able to confuse him or get him to commit himself too early or too late.
“Tommy Ivan, of course, has been very helpful with me at Detroit. He’s practiced straight-on shots with me and helped perfect my whole style.”
Trying to describe that style, Terry put it this way. “I try simply to concentrate on the puck. I’m not much of a holler guy. Someone like Rayner can yell at his defensemen and watch the puck at the same time, but I have to concentrate on one thing. I have a very low, crouching style. My reflexes are that way, I guess. I can see better through legs than over some tall guy’s shoulder. It’s an easier way to get hurt—but so far nothing’s happened.”
One New York hockey writer said that Sawchuk possessed the quickest reflexes ever seen on ice. A writer in Toronto commented that, ‘Terry never gives bad goals and he seldom yields a goal at crucial times in a game.” Despite that sort of a build-up, Terry feels he let his club down in the playoffs a year ago. The Red Wings were ousted by the Montreal Canadiens in the opening round. Although his elbow was bothering him at the time, he refuses to alibi his performance and chooses, instead, to give all the credit to Montreal’s goalie, Gerry McNeil.
But the Red Wings knew what they were doing when they decided to bring Sawchuk up. At that, it took a nineplayer deal and shipment of one of the league’s leading goalies, Harry Lumley, to the Chicago Black Hawks to make room for Terry. In February, 1950, Sawchuk received his first test in the National League when an ankle injury temporarily sidelined Lumley. Terry’s greatest thrill in hockey to date came during that seven-game period, when he shut out the Rangers, 1-0. Those seven games convinced the Detroit management that Sawchuk was too good to stay in the minors.
Detroit's publicity director, Fred Huber, explained the background of that deal, “At about that time, Lynn Patrick, who was coaching the Rangers, came out publicly and said there were only three big-league goalkeepers and one of them was in the minor leagues. We knew that, too, but we had to wait for an opportunity to move Terry in. When the time came to make the deal with Chicago, they wanted a goalie thrown in so we offered them Sawchuk, hoping they’d take Lumley. It was a gamble but it worked. Terry is three years younger than Harry and that meant a lot.”
Because of his youth and competitive spirit, Terry dislikes inaction. In one game last year he had nothing to do but twiddle his thumbs for 22 minutes while Red Wing attackers swarmed around the enemy’s goal mouth. “The guys were razzing me after the game about giving me a rocking chair so I’d be real comfortable,” Terry said. “Funny thing about it, though, I wasn’t comfortable at all. I was more scared in those 22 minutes than at any other time during the game. You get the nervous heebieJeebies expecting someone to break loose on you at any minute, and when he doesn’t, you get more nervous than ever. I could really feel it, just looking down at the other end and watching that clock move so slowly. I got cold, too. Just standing on a big chunk of ice so long without moving is no fun.”
Because he doesn’t have a chance to skate during a game, Terry makes it a rule to take his pads off and race around the rink during practice sessions. After practice, when some of his teammates stay around to shoot, he will also get a stick and shoot into the nets and boards,
Terry treats his eyes, which are his mealticket, as some people treat a new automobile. During the hockey season he shies away from reading or movies or anything that will strain them. He always tries to get two and a half to three hours rest before a game. After the game he will grab a sandwich and then try to fall asleep. He usually is unable to sleep for two or three hours because of the nervous tension still in his system. “Sometimes after a real tough game,” Terry says, “I don’t get to sleep at all.”
One of his biggest problems is keeping his weight down. Last fall he reported to the Red Wings’ training camp weighing 220 pounds, 25 pounds over his normal playing weight. By dint of a heavy amount of sweating, plus a strict diet, he managed to reach 195, his best playing weight. Last season, he played at 212 but felt it was too much and made him too heavy on his feet. He sticks to a diet all season long, foregoing sweets, potatoes and bread. One thing he is unable to pass up, however, is his favorite dish—pizza pie. “I really love it,” Terry says. “I can eat a whole one by myself. In Detroit I have a friend who makes it. Every time he calls me up to ask me over, I ask him first whether he’s going to make pizza. If he answers yes, I'm on my way.”
To help keep his diet in check, Sawchuk smokes a pack of cigarettes every three or four days. He drinks an occasional beer but touches nothing in the way of hard liquor. Last Christmas, Terry became engaged to a pretty blonde named Dorothy Forsberg. He met her about a year ago in Winnipeg where she is a receptionist for the Sawechuk family doctor. Dorothy excels at skiing and also likes to dance, something Terry can take or leave as the occasion demands. They haven't made any marriage plans yet; Terry wants to build up his bank account first.
Last year, Sawchuk did handsomely in the cash department. The league gives a $1,000 bonus to each member of the All-Star team, to the winners of the various trophies and to the players who participate in each playoff round. The Detroit organization in turn matches each bonus, so Terry took home $6,000 in excess funds. He received a nice salary increase this season and is quite satisfied with his financial arrangement.
Sawchuk’s chief nemesis in the league is Maurice Richard, the Montreal Canadiens’ wizard. “No matter where he shoots from, it’s always on the net. His backhand's even tougher than his forehand, and he shoots a heavy puck. When you stop it, it feels like it’s going through you. Other tough guys are Milt Schmidt of the Bruins. that Toronto line of Kennedy, Smith and Sloan, and Don Raleigh of the Rangers.”
Six goals is the most Sawchuk has allowed in a game in the NHL. In one game a year ago, when the Rangers scored six on him, Terry should have been in bed. He had the flu and bleeding tonsils.
During the season, Terry rooms with Fred Glover and he is a member in good standing of the Sid Abel, Tony Leswick, Red Kelly pinochle association. The group plays that card game with almost as much seriousness as hockey.
If he hadn't pursued hockey as a career, Sawchuk might well have become a professional baseball player. A first baseman and a long-ball hitter, Terry played junior Legion ball in Winnipeg and one summer hit over .500. He was offered a tryout once with the St. Louis Cardinals but turned it down to concentrate on hockey. In 1948, he worked out with the Indianapolis team of the American Association. He did so well that Al Lopez, then managing Indianapolis, wanted to send him to New Orleans to get in shape, but Terry refused.
“Before I went up to the plate for the first time that day, I was scared to death,” Terry said, “I was afraid I wouldn't. be able to hit their pitching. As I was waiting my turn to bat, this fellow named Chet Johnson, who pitched part of one season for the Browns, came up to me. He said, ‘Listen kid, don’t be scared of anything. I’ve had it pretty tough in my day and I’ve been pushed around a lot. But let me tell you, when I go out on that mound, I tell myself I’m the best pitcher alive. You do the same and you'll be okay.’
“I've never forgotten that advice,” Terry concluded.
He hasn't, either.