If These Walls Could Talk: Boston Bruins: Stories from the Boston Bruins Ice, Locker Room, and Press Box
256
If These Walls Could Talk: Boston Bruins: Stories from the Boston Bruins Ice, Locker Room, and Press Box
256Paperback
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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781629375342 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Triumph Books |
| Publication date: | 11/06/2018 |
| Series: | If These Walls Could Talk |
| Pages: | 256 |
| Sales rank: | 90,136 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.50(w) x 8.40(h) x 1.00(d) |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
How I Got Here
It's such a simple concept. In the broadcasting business you don't want to be the man who follows The Man. There is too much pressure, expectations are too high, and the probability for success is low. If you can work it out, you want to be the man who follows the man who followed The Man.
It pushes you. You say to yourself, "I can't suck. I've got to be good." I'm not sure I've succeeded, but I have survived.
I began my hockey broadcasting career because I initially failed as a college student. I had packed everything I owned in my 1964 Ford Galaxy and driven south to matriculate as a proud student at the University of Miami. As the oldest of five children growing up in a mobile home in rural Maine, the money for a campus visit was out of the question, so the first time I ever set eyes on Coral Gables, Florida, was when I arrived on campus. I thought I wanted a school that was big and warm and with a strong broadcast program. What I really wanted to do was follow Fred Lynn as the center fielder for the Red Sox, but that was somewhat (okay, very) unrealistic. The next step was for me to find a way I could make a living in the sports world, and I came to the conclusion that sports broadcasting was the way to go. I was one for three.
What I quickly realized was that there were more kids in my dorm than there were in my hometown (Bowdoin, Maine: current population 3,061, but in 1974 probably less than 2,000). My roommate, who I think I saw for a total of 15 minutes, was taking the family jet back home to Long Island for the weekend to pick up some more stuff. I was woefully overmatched.
I was basically on a full-boat academic scholarship, and I remember calling my father and making up a phony story about not having enough money to purchase the books I needed. He told me to not worry, that he would find a way to send me the money. It was then that I broke down and tearfully told him that I didn't want him to find the money for me; I wanted to come home. My father was always a man of few words, and he had only three for me at that time: "So come home."
Not only did I feel overwhelmed, I had also left my girlfriend (and future wife), Susan, back in Maine. We were high school sweethearts. We met when my friend and I were doing a 50-hour fundraising marathon on the local radio station to raise money for the high school scholarship fund. Susan worked at the local Dunkin Donuts, and she brought an urn of coffee to our remote site to help us stay awake. She certainly woke me up! The first girl I ever kissed, I married. I always joked that I was from Maine, so I thought I had to.
After a four-day career as a Hurricane, I drove back to Maine with my tail tucked between my legs, completely humiliated and wondering what my career path would be. I had been the commencement speaker at Mt. Ararat High School and was even voted by my classmates as most likely to succeed, and yet my college career lasted four days.
Obviously, it was too late in the academic year for me to enter college locally, so I returned to work, managing the sporting goods store in Brunswick (yes, it really was called The Good Sports) and broadcasting high school football on the local radio station. WKXA AM-FM was a "leaves are falling on Maine Street" small town radio station with a monster signal. The FM was 80,000 watts and could be heard over most of the coast of Maine.
The station had just been purchased by two couples from Minnesota and was under new management. They didn't really know me or that I had been doing play-by-play on the station since I was 15. My friend Bruce Biette and I had talked our way into part-time weekend jobs at the station, and slowly but surely worked our way onto the air. While I lettered in four sports in high school (soccer, cross country, basketball, and baseball), I never played football or hockey, two of the three sports that the WKXA broadcast in the community.
So at the high-pitched age of 15, I was the play-by-play announcer for the Brunswick High School Dragons football games, and Bruce was the color announcer. Later we talked the station into adding broadcasts of Bowdoin College football, as well. I broadcast football games through my senior year, and also did basketball games for a while. As a sophomore, I would play in the junior varsity game, then rush to shower and change and broadcast the varsity game.
After my short stint at the University of Miami, I returned to Brunswick and picked up where I had left off, broadcasting the high school and college football games. In late November, the new owners suddenly decided, at the last minute, to add Bowdoin College hockey to the lineup. They realized they were missing a play-by-play announcer and asked if I could do the games "until we can hire a grown-up."
My first hockey broadcast was in December 1974 at the Matthews Arena in Boston as Bowdoin College played Northeastern University. I had a lot of experience (relatively speaking, doing football and basketball games), but I had never broadcast a hockey game. Ever. I was working with a salty, crusty Maine legend by the name of Frank Gibbs. I was supposed to be his gopher. Carry the equipment, set it up, do color for Frank, and give him a break when he needed it.
But Frank had other ideas. He was fairly uncomfortable broadcasting hockey games and he wanted me to do more than the station owners had in mind. Suddenly I was sitting in a press box in Boston, broadcasting back to Brunswick and feeling like I was speaking a foreign language. And it was the most fun I had ever had broadcasting a game.
Doing hockey play-by-play was like verbal gymnastics. The challenge of keeping up with the speed of the players, talking at a rapid rate, and the excitement of the game itself was fun. I loved every minute, and suddenly was worried that my fill-in position was not going to last. Thankfully, it was apparently enough to convince the new owners they didn't need a grown-up, and I finished the season schedule. I had no idea, at the time, that I would ultimately graduate from Bowdoin College, as well.
Thankfully, my boss at The Good Sports, Rob Jarrett, was a Bowdoin alum and was understanding about giving me the time I needed to travel with the team, because suddenly I was the voice of the Bowdoin College Polar Bears for the next five years, learning the game from legendary coach Sid Watson. He was patient beyond words and knowledgeable about every aspect of the sport. There could be no better first tutor.
My first memories of Sid Watson were not as the Bowdoin hockey coach. I went to Brunswick High School with several of Sid's children: Nancy, John, and Susan. I knew Sid as John's father, and I had absolutely no idea that Sid was an athletic legend in his own right.
Sid was a running back at Northeastern University and actually averaged more than seven yards per carry for his college career. His 1951 Huskies team was undefeated, and he was captain of the team in 1954. I certainly didn't know that he still holds the Northeastern school record for points in a single season, or that he had also lettered in basketball and hockey. He was simply my friend's dad. I also didn't know that he played for the Pittsburgh Steelers from 1955 to 1957 and the Washington Redskins in 1958.
I ultimately learned that Sid was also a legendary figure in college hockey circles. The Division III Player of the Year Award was named the Sid Watson Award following his death in 2004. The arena at my alma mater is called the Sid Watson Arena. And one of the greatest honors of my professional life was when his wife, Henrietta, asked me to speak at his memorial service at Bowdoin.
Sid Watson, quite honestly, taught me the game. I had not been to many hockey games as a youngster. And the first Bowdoin game I ever saw, I broadcast. I mimicked the terminology and cadence of broadcasters like Bob Wilson, but I didn't really understand what I was watching. Sid took the time to talk to me, one-on-one, and teach me the nuances of the sport. I never had the feeling that he thought I was asking a stupid question. When I began broadcasting the games, I was driving to the away sites with my color announcer, Fred Harlow. Once I transferred to Bowdoin, and was a student there, Sid invited me to ride on the team bus with them. Then he told me to sit in the second seat, right behind him, and talked to me about the sport on many long bus rides. Even when he probably preferred reading a book, or taking a nap, he took the time to teach me the game. I will be forever grateful.
Just to complete the whole college story, after returning to Maine I enrolled at the University of Maine at Portland-Gorham (now the University of Southern Maine). My color man on the Bowdoin games was another Polar Bears alum, Fred Harlow, and he was convinced I needed to attend the college. I explained that they accepted about four transfer students a year, so Fred issued a bet. I would apply to Bowdoin, and if they accepted me I would attend. If they didn't, then Fred would pay the application fee. I became one of those four transfer students accepted, but then I had another problem.
In June 1975, after returning from the University of Miami, and working a couple of different jobs, Susan and I got married and both of us were working full time. I made an appointment with the Bowdoin director of student aid, Walter Moulton. I explained to him my bet with Fred, and expressed my appreciation at being admitted, but had to tell the truth — there was no way I could possibly afford to attend Bowdoin College. Mr. Moulton listened, looked me in the eye, and simply and quietly said, "Dale, we wouldn't have let you in if we weren't going to let you stay."
Between scholarships and grants, my total indebtedness for my Bowdoin education was less than $5,000. Susan and I were able to work my way through my final three years of college and earn my Bachelor's Degree in Psychology. But even as a student at Bowdoin, I knew I really wanted to be a play-by-play announcer in professional sports. That led to my second "heart to heart" talk at the college.
I met with the Dean of Students, a terrific woman named Alice Early. I explained that I was enrolled in a college without a broadcast department, and basically no class offerings leading me to my ultimate career goal. Alice said to me, "Dale, do you know what my major was at Harvard? Creative writing. Do you know how much creative writing I do here at Bowdoin? Almost none."
Then Dean Early started to question me. "Dale, what's the least offensive academic offering we have here at Bowdoin?" I answered, "Psychology." She said, "You are now a psychology major! But I want you to take everything this college has to offer. I want you to take archaeology classes, and anthropology, and English, and history. Get an education. Learn how to learn. You'll be fine after that." It might be the single best piece of advice I've ever received. I'm not sure where Alice Early is now, but I hope she knows how much she helped the kid from Maine who was trying to figure out his path in life.
I am forever indebted to Bowdoin College for the opportunity to earn a world-class education. Later in life, I was proud and happy to pay the complete tab for my son, Taylor, to also attend Bowdoin. He was a much better student than me. His name is on the wall in the Mathematics Department and he went on to earn his Ph.D. in statistics from Yale University. It all became possible because I lost a bet and was admitted to Bowdoin College.
In fall 1977, when I was a junior at Bowdoin, the Philadelphia Flyers placed an American Hockey League franchise in Portland called the Maine Mariners. At the time, it was the only professional franchise of any kind in my home state, and they started as a juggernaut, winning the Calder Cup championship in each of their first two seasons. Pete Peeters, who would go on to play almost 500 NHL regular-season games and was a First Team NHL All-Star for the Bruins in 1982–83, was part of a goaltending tandem with Rick St. Croix, who spent almost a decade as an NHL backup. Ken Linseman, "The Rat," who went on to score 125 goals and rack up 744 penalty minutes in 389 games over six seasons with the Bruins as part of an 860-game NHL career, actually contributed 17 goals in 38 games for the Mariners during the 1978–79 season.
The Mariners were dubbed "A Major Among the Minors" in an article by Sports Illustrated. I knew who they were, but was too busy with my college studies to pay much attention. I never attended a Mariners game, because I was trying to keep my head above water as a student at Bowdoin and working two jobs. I may have never attended a Mariners game, but it was hard to not know what they were doing. And if you were a hockey play-by-play announcer, it was hard to miss the voice that was coming out of my radio. It was a voice, and a career path, that was beckoning.
To the best of my knowledge, I was the only married student at Bowdoin. Susan and I lived in a mobile home about two miles from campus (it was all we could afford) and approximately 30 feet from her parents' home. Now that is pressure!
I was still able to be a student at the school and made friends despite the fact that I never lived on campus and never attended a college party. My friends got to know Susan, and I think they came to love her almost as much as I did. I worked two jobs (The Good Sports and WKXA Radio) and kept my grades at a respectable level. It was hard, but it was worth it.
When I graduated from Bowdoin in May 1979 I became the first person in my family to receive a college degree, and it was from an institution I thought I could only dream about. I started to think about the next step. I knew I didn't want to use my psychology degree but wanted to become a professional play-byplay announcer. I started to put together an audition tape, and scour the trades for positions at the lower levels of the hockey world. Then I received a call from Ed Anderson, the president of the Maine Mariners.
Ed had heard my college play-by-play work and the message he delivered was short and simple: the Mariners had a broadcaster who was too good to be there very long. I didn't really know Ed that well. Prior to working for the Mariners, he had worked for the Portland Press Herald and covered Bowdoin hockey from time to time. I certainly never considered contacting him because I knew all too well how talented their play-by-play announcer was. But, completely out of the blue, Ed Anderson was contacting me.
Ed wanted me to work with that announcer for the 1979–80 season and then replace him on play-by-play if things went as planned going forward. Remember what I said about not being the man who followed The Man? Well, I certainly was in no position, under the circumstances, to follow that advice and spent the most educational year of my life learning the world of hockey broadcasting from future Hall of Famer Mike "Doc" Emrick, who has been the national television voice of hockey for decades.
I certainly didn't know Mike before that. I don't think I had ever met him prior to going to work for the Mariners. But as someone who hoped to someday do what he was doing, I was an unabashed admirer of his work. Mike was given his nickname "Doc" because he earned his Ph.D. in Communications from Bowling Green University. He had worked for Port Huron in the International Hockey League, and was given the chance to take that next step to the AHL.
At times I worried about what Doc thought about me. I was fresh out of college, and while certainly no threat to his position, I never really knew if he was on board with Ed Anderson's plan. Doc was in the early stages of an eventual Hall of Fame career, which is still going strong. Thankfully, Doc was very generous, sharing his knowledge and love of the game with a kid right out of college. I was incredibly lucky.
The single greatest lesson I learned from Doc was preparation, and no one I've ever met, in any field, prepares as much or as well as he does. I learned about voluminous note-taking, memorization, and multi-colored game and score cards — the colors making it easier to find things more quickly and with no assistance.
Let me give you an example. This was the early stages of media relations in professional hockey, and there was no Internet to make life simple. So Doc took it upon himself to keep his own set of league statistics. He would find the box scores from every AHL game in the newspaper, and would update every single player in the league's statistics in real time. Every goal, every assist, every point, every penalty minute. Doc knew the stats for every player in the league, and knew every scoring streak before each team's media relations people did.
And Doc didn't just keep individual statistics, he also kept team statistics and knew every team's home and road records, shots for and against, power play and penalty kill. Doc was the first person I ever saw who kept every team's record (home and away) with every referee in the league. And Doc could tell you what each referee was most likely to call. It's hard to describe how much work this was, and how unerringly accurate Doc was. If Mariners coach Bob McCammon wanted to know how the penalty killing team was for the Hershey Bears when they were on the road, Doc could tell him within minutes. Can you imagine following that act? Well, actually I didn't. At least not right away.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "If These Walls Could Talk: Boston Bruins"
by .
Copyright © 2018 Dale Arnold and Matt Kalman.
Excerpted by permission of Triumph Books LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Foreword by Ray Bourque,
Introduction,
1. How I Got Here,
2. Announcers,
3. Mike Milbury,
4. Boston Garden,
5. TD Garden,
6. Coaches,
7. Harry Sinden,
8. Nate Greenberg,
9. Bobby Orr,
10. Ray Bourque,
11. Hal Gill,
12. Joe Thornton,
13. The Boston Bruins and the Sports Talk Radio Wars,
14. Tales from the Room,
15. Marc Savard,
16. Patrice Bergeron,
17. Zdeno Chara,
18. Andrew Ference,
19. Goalies,
20. Tough Guys,
21. Shawn Thornton,
22. Patriots' Day,
23. Greatest Games,
24. Current Players,
25. Bruins in the Community,
Acknowledgments,
