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  Also by Al Strachan

  One Hundred Years of Hockey: The Chronicle of a Century on Ice

  (with Eric Duhatschek and Réjean Tremblay)

  Go to the Net: Eight Goals That Changed the Game

  Don Cherry’s Hockey Stories and Stuff

  (as told to Al Strachan)

  Why the Leafs Suck and How They Can Be Fixed

  I Am Not Making This Up: My Favourite Hockey Stories from a Career Covering the Game

  Over the Line: Wrist Shots, Slap Shots, and Five-Minute Majors

  Don Cherry’s Hockey Stories Part 2

  (as told to Al Strachan)

  Copyright © 2013 by Al Strachan

  All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, or stored in a retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the publisher – or, in case of photocopying or other reprographic copying, a licence from the Canadian Copyright Licensing Agency – is an infringement of the copyright law.

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Strachan, Al

  99: Gretzky: his game, his story / Al Strachan;

  foreword by Roy MacGregor.

  eBook ISBN: 978-0-7710-8325-9

  1. Gretzky, Wayne, 1961-. 2. Hockey players – Canada – Biography.

  3. Hockey coaches – Canada – Biography. I. Title.

  II. Title: Ninety-nine, his game, his story.

  GV848.5.G78S77 2013 796.962092 C2013-900689-3

  Library of Congress control number: 2013931565

  Fenn/McClelland & Stewart,

  a division of Random House of Canada Limited

  A Penguin Random House Company

  One Toronto Street

  Toronto, Ontario

  M5C 2V6

  www.randomhouse.ca

  v3.1

  For the lovely Vivienne

  CONTENTS

  Cover

  Other Books by This Author

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Foreword

  Preface

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Photo Insert 1

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Photo Insert 2

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Acknowledgements

  Photographic Credits

  FOREWORD

  By Roy MacGregor

  “Come on! – you’ll have a great time!”

  And I did. It was late fall, 1994. The National Hockey League owners had just locked out its players in what would, over the years, become a virtual ritual, but this was the very first and, without Twitter and endless talking-head panels, there wasn’t much for hockey journalists to do but wait it out and find something else to fill in the time.

  Al Strachan suggested I join him and a handful of other hockey writers – Tony Gallagher of the Vancouver Province, Kevin McGran of Canadian Press (now with the Toronto Star) – who were going to follow Wayne Gretzky on a barnstorming “Grand Tour” of Europe. The “Ninety-Nine All Stars,” put together by Gretzky, his agent Mike Barnett and (I would not know until I read this book) Al Strachan, would play exhibition matches against club teams in Finland, Sweden, Norway and Germany. “Strach” was going for the Sun chain. I was then with the Ottawa Citizen, part of the then-powerful Southam empire. If hockey superstars like Gretzky, Brett Hull, Mark Messier, Paul Coffey, Steve Yzerman and Sergei Fedorov were going to be wearing jerseys rather than suits and playing real games rather than head games, then Southam certainly wouldn’t want the Sun to own it. They happily agreed that both Tony, another Southam employee, and I could go along.

  Strach, whom I did not know very well then, was far more welcoming than I had expected. I knew his reputation for caustic remarks and quick dismissals but I had to learn for myself that the sarcasm and jibes come with such joyous wit that he is, in fact, a delight to be around. I knew he and Tony had long been friends but I had no real concept of how close he was with Gretzky, the organizer, funder and main attraction of the trip.

  At first, this bothered me, as I’m sure it bothered others. Strachan, and Tony, as well, had an access that McGran and I simply could not match. Neither of us had covered Gretzky in his heyday, as both Tony and Al had. The worry proved completely unfounded, as Al made sure that each game was run roughly as real NHL games were, with a semi-formal scrum with Gretzky and other players at the end of each match. The rest of the time, we all travelled together as one delightful group, sightseeing during the days and playing exhibition games – several of them excellent – at night. The travelling band included various wives and girlfriends and several of the players took along their fathers, including the incomparable Walter Gretzky. Sergei Fedorov, perhaps because his father wasn’t available, brought along a stripper.

  This was my first real encounter with Gretzky and the friendship that began on that trip eventually became a “partnership” after his retirement in 1999. The National Post had started up just the year before and, wanting to make a big splash in sports, arranged for Wayne to write a weekly column for them. He agreed but asked that I, having transferred to the Post from the Citizen, “assist” him with it. I then got to know the Wayne Gretzky that Al Strachan knew and admired – though I would never know him as well as Al.

  The incredible friendship between the game’s greatest player and the game’s most controversial commentator was something to behold. Gretzky is renowned for his diplomacy on all matters concerning hockey. He has always been careful to avoid controversy, endlessly polite and quick to offer the benefit of the doubt. Not so Strach. Al is one of those people with no built-in governor. He says whatever he is thinking, and usually in a low-but-penetrating voice that is impossible not to pick up. Most people built like that, though, are not very bright and could well use a governor. Not Al. He is one of the brightest brains in sports journalism – erudite, well-read, with an incredible grasp of history and events. His politics might make some cringe, but if they wish to debate him they had better know their file – because he will rip it to shreds.

  Those who get to know his humorous side, however, soon come to treasure it. He can be hilarious. I sometimes think this is why Gretzky is so fond of him. Al not only knows his sports on a level that can keep up to the encyclopedic Gretzky, but Al is more than happy to say, aloud, things that Gretzky might only be thinking. He also makes Gretzky laugh. At himself, as well.

  Today’s journalists cannot possibly get to know athletes as they once could. When Al Strachan started out, hockey dressing rooms were quiet places where reporters could sit alone with a player and chat about everything from the game at hand to the world at large. Television cameras and radio microphones were rare. Today, it is impossible to speak alone with a professional athlete. The moment his mouth opens, small hand-held recorders and iPhones press in on him to vacuum up every word, many of the recorder holders not paying the slightest attention or, for
that matter, even bothering to look at the player. Whatever he says, even the most utterly meaningless – “the first goal is important,” “we have to play desperate hockey” – is instantly sent out on Twitter. It has made players retreat to clichés, avoid all talk that might be misconstrued. Idle chatter is a dead art.

  It is because of this that this book is so telling. It is not just about feats and records – though they are there, as well – but about a very special relationship between a superstar athlete and a star reporter.

  Wayne Gretzky and Al Strachan, both richly deserving of their rightful places in the Hockey Hall of Fame.

  PREFACE

  Even though Wayne Gretzky began his National Hockey League career in 1979, it wasn’t until the 1981 Canada Cup that I really got to know him. Our paths had crossed a couple of times in post-game scrums, but in circumstances of that nature, you don’t get much of a chance to interact.

  However, in an event like the Canada Cup, where the players have lots of free time and the same reporters are coming back day after day, relationships begin to form.

  The reporter, naturally enough, will revisit the players with whom he feels he is developing a rapport. Similarly, the players will either increase or decrease their level of cooperation as they get to know the people with whom they are dealing.

  A couple of factors led to my becoming friends with Wayne Gretzky. One was that both James Christie and I were covering the tournament for the Globe and Mail. We were both about the same height. We were both overweight and we both had moustaches. Jim’s was a bit more luxuriant than mine, but whose wasn’t? During a chat just after the training camp opened, Gretzky called me “Jim.” I pointed out the error of his ways and we laughed about it. The next day, I teased him about it.

  When you’re Wayne Gretzky, most people, with the exception of most of your teammates, treat you like royalty. To have someone make fun of you, however lightly, opens a new door in the relationship. You can get angry and slam that door, or you can laugh and go marching through it. Gretzky opted for the latter.

  Face to face, I have often made fun of him. He makes fun of himself. Once, after he was hit in the ear with a deflected slapshot and had to leave the game to get stitches, he grinned and said to me, “That’s the first time in my life I ever blocked a shot.”

  But I never made fun of him in print. I have always considered him to be the greatest player in hockey history. I have heard all the arguments made on behalf of other candidates, and as I respect every one of those guys, I will not enter into a debate on the matter because such debates always end up in a recitation of shortcomings.

  If other people want to see Gordie Howe or Mario Lemieux or Bobby Orr as the greatest ever, that’s fine. A case can be made for every one of them.

  But my own choice is Gretzky, and I’ve never made any secret of it. Because we had come to know each other, he made sure that he read my columns and he liked what he saw, not only in what I wrote about him but also in what I wrote about hockey.

  Not long after the 1981 tournament, we were on a long charter flight together for some reason. He came and sat beside me for what I initially assumed was just a brief courtesy visit. But he stayed for the entire flight and it transpired that we agreed not only about hockey, but about many other things in life as well. A firm friendship was formed.

  I was very fortunate in that the Globe and Mail sent me all over the continent covering hockey, and as a result, whenever I encountered Gretzky, I had lots of hockey gossip to pass along. He loved that because he had become a prisoner of his fame. If he went out, he would be mobbed, so he spent a lot of time talking on the phone to his friends in hockey. The primary currency in those conversations was inside information.

  Wayne and I became close friends. He would often phone just to chat, and likewise, I would phone him when I had learned something I thought might interest him. There were no cellphones in those days, but he always made sure that I had his most recent private numbers and knew what alias he would be using to register at a hotel.

  If we were in the same town, we would invariably go out for dinner on the off-nights. On game nights, we would meet for a beer or two afterwards.

  When he left Edmonton in 1988, we drifted apart somewhat. For one thing, he got married, and like everyone else in those circumstances, he altered his lifestyle. Janet is a wonderful lady, and we get along famously, but it stands to reason that when you’re a married man with children, the relationships you had as a bachelor get altered.

  Another factor in the change was that he was no longer based in Canada. Both the Globe and Mail and subsequently the Toronto Sun, which I joined in 1994, focused on Canadian teams more than American teams.

  For the rest of his career, we maintained a close relationship and spent time together when our paths crossed, but nonetheless, it must be conceded that the calls were no longer as frequent.

  Even so, whenever I needed to talk to him, he was available, and there were occasions when we saw each other on a daily basis for extended periods—the Scandinavian goodwill tour in 1994, for instance, and during a number of playoff series in which he was participating. Because my editors knew that Wayne and I were good friends, I was invariably assigned to the series in which he was playing.

  To this day, we still talk regularly, and when it came time to finalize this book in 2013, we spoke at length about his career.

  The book was intended to be much shorter than it is, but with so much material at hand, it was impossible to keep it at the prescribed length. There are still some leftovers that simply wouldn’t fit, but I feel safe in saying that this book contains thousands of pieces of information about Wayne Gretzky that you didn’t know and an equal number of his quotes that you have never heard before.

  There are even some that he says he had forgotten about.

  CHAPTER ONE

  More than a decade after Wayne Gretzky’s 1999 retirement as an active player, there is still a gaping hole in hockey.

  The National Hockey League continues to feature skilled players, and there are even those—Sidney Crosby comes to mind—who may eventually do as much for the game as Gretzky did over the years.

  But Gretzky, despite his most common nickname, was much more than great. He was magnificent. His feats are legendary. When he retired, he held no fewer than sixty-one NHL records, most of which stand today and some of which will stand for at least our lifetimes. Perhaps they will last forever, and hockey will move on to a “modern era” in which the Gretzky standard is set aside as unattainable.

  Gretzky holds every offensive record worth holding. He won ten scoring titles. He won the Hart Trophy as the most valuable player in the league nine times and twice won the Conn Smythe Trophy as playoff MVP. He also won the Lady Byng Trophy five times, was a first-team all-star eight times and a second-team all-star seven times. He was on four Stanley Cup–winning teams.

  He not only broke records, he shattered them, so much so that even Sports Illustrated, a magazine that for a number of years was notorious for its anti-hockey stance, had to concede he was the most dominant athlete ever—in any sport.

  Today, and for the foreseeable future, the fifty-goal season is a rarity. Gretzky once scored fifty goals in the first thirty-nine games of the season.

  Today, a 100-point season is the benchmark of excellence. Gretzky had a 215-point season and a 212-point season. Only four times has an NHL player cracked the 200-point barrier. It was Gretzky all four times.

  But there is so much more to Wayne Gretzky than his hockey skills, superb though they were. Anyone who knows him always makes the same observation: no matter how great he might have been as a hockey player, he is every bit as great as a human being.

  You could ask Jean Anderson, for instance. Just hours before Gretzky announced his retirement in New York—a hectic time in his life, to say the least—he called Jean’s husband, the Brantford, Ontario, sports broadcaster Arnold Anderson.

  Arnold Anderson was the first person
to conduct a radio interview with Gretzky, a ten-year-old hockey prodigy at the time. Gretzky called to wish him well as he battled cancer. “That says something about the man—on a day like today that he would call,” said Jean. “We were moved.”

  On that same weekend, I was wandering around Madison Square Garden and a security guard volunteered the information that when he was at his previous post, he’d had access to the players and had mentioned to Gretzky that he would like a stick. He was transferred to a different post where players did not normally go, but Gretzky sought him out and gave him a stick.

  I told that story to Gretzky’s former coach and general manager, Glen Sather. He was not surprised and said that one of his fondest memories of Gretzky, still a teenager, was that he had insisted that Joey Moss, who has Down syndrome, be hired as a clubhouse attendant in Edmonton. “Here was something he could do to help a young guy,” Sather said. “He turned Joey’s whole life around. That was seventeen or eighteen years ago. That kid still is around and he even signs autographs. I have millions of memories of Wayne, and they aren’t so much what he did on the ice as what he did off the ice.”

  Long after he had been traded away from the Oilers, Gretzky continued to buy a season ticket to Oilers games for Moss, who otherwise would have had to stay in the dressing room and watch the game on television—if it was televised. (In 2012, Joey Moss was awarded the Queen Elizabeth II Diamond Jubilee Medal.)

  When Gretzky was traded to the Los Angeles Kings in 1988, the opening game was seventy tickets short of being a sellout. Gretzky bought the seventy tickets and donated them to an orphanage. That information came from team owner Bruce McNall. Gretzky never mentioned it.

  During the late stages of his playing career, Gretzky lived in a gated community just north of Los Angeles. One day when I arrived for a pre-arranged meeting, the guard at the massive electronic gate was unfailingly polite but firm. He explained that he would be glad to admit me as soon as he had called Gretzky and obtained clearance. He said he hoped I understood, but it was his job to make sure that only welcome visitors are allowed in, and he intended to do his job.