RIP, Mr. Goalie

Jim Withers

He had a multitude of imitators, but there was only one Glenn Hall.

The Hockey Hall of Famer, known as “Mr. Goalie,” died Wednesday in his hometown of Stony Plain, Alberta. He was 94.

Hall became my all-time favourite netminder when I was maybe 12 years old, with a style that defied description. Mimicked by the likes of Roger Crozier and Tony Esposito, Hall was often said to be the pioneer of the butterfly style of goaltending – dropping to his knees and spreading his pads – but there was more to it than that. For one thing, he had an ungainly habit of falling backward like a drunk, reaching behind his head with his glove hand while trying to use the crossbar to stay upright. Somehow his distinctive flopping around worked, and while my days as a Chicago Black Hawks fan were short-lived – go Habs! – they lasted long enough to include Hall’s hoisting of the Stanley Cup in 1961.

I recall how before the beginning of each hockey season there'd be stories of Hall showing up late for training camp, supposedly because he was painting his barn or busy getting the crops in. Sports scribes made it sound like this was Hall’s way of holding out for a better contract, and noted how strange it was that he had a pressing need to paint his barn every September.

Hall reputedly had an extremely queasy stomach, throwing up before games and sometimes between periods, but he was anything but fragile. In fact, Hall's stretch of playing 502 consecutive games – 552 if you count playoffs – is a record unlikely to ever be broken. And, amazingly, he did it without wearing a mask.

They were tougher in Hall’s day. In fact, I recall a game when he leaped into the air, hoping that a cannonading slapshot from the blue line would bounce off his chest-protector, only to have the puck hit him in the face. Play stopped. The ice crew came out and scraped up teeth and blood while play-by-play announcer Bill Hewitt told viewers: "Hall is at the bench getting repairs.”

A couple of minutes later, “repairs” done, Hall was back between the pipes, goal pads spread in upside-down V-formation in readiness for the next faceoff. Fortunately for the squeamish, everybody had black-and-white TV then.

Maybe a more painful moment for Hall occurred in 1970 while he was wearing a mask, and playing for St. Louis late in his career, and Boston’s Bobby Orr’s scored the Stanley Cup-winning goal in OT. Years later, Hall joked about how, in a photo of the most iconic goal in NHL history, he’s eternally frozen in time, slumping in the net while Orr flies through the air in triumph. …

They say you should never meet your heroes because they often turn out to be disappointments. Former Montreal Gazette colleague Dave Stubbs knew Hall well, and based on what he’s written about him, I don't think that would have been a problem.

Boyhood heroes never die.