Dennis Maruk

Dennis Maruk

Description

'From feared NHL sniper to ship captain and bellhop with hockey s greatest stache Only 20 men in NHL history have scored 60 or more goals in a single season: Gretzky, Lemieux, and Hull all hit the magical mark. And so did an undersized, take-no-prisoners centre named Dennis Maruk. When Maruk found the back of the net 60 times in 1981 82, he was the toast of Washington he even dined with the president. A few short years later, he was out of the game. Maruk not only left the rink, his life did a complete 180. Instead of flying up the ice and in on goal, he was behind the wheel of a service ship in the Gulf of Mexico. Instead of setting up teammates, he was setting up furniture for Goldie Hawn. He was never sent down to the farm as a rookie, but after the game he was a farmhand for John Oates. And instead of fighting in the corners, Dennis Maruk found himself fighting for his life. '

Sujets

• Hockey sobre hielo
• Ice hockey

Informations

• Publié par: Ecw Press
• Date de parution: 17 novembre 2017
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781773050621
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

DENNIS MARUK
THE UNFORGETTABLE STORY OF HOCKEY’S FORGOTTEN 60-GOAL MAN
Dennis Maruk with Ken Reid



I would like to dedicate this book to my three children, Jon, Sarah, and Jaylee. Their love and support has always helped me through my ups and downs.
All this would not have happened if I did not get the direction, dedication, and guidance from my parents, John and Anne. From the early years of my father making a rink in the backyard to my London Knights junior days when my mom and dad (parents of eight) drove back and forth, through sleet and snow, from Toronto to London for almost every game, my parents have always supported me. Mom, I miss you and you are always in my heart.


CONTENTS
FOREWORD
1 . . . THE BOAT
2 . . . THE WHITE/BLACK/GREY ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM
3 . . . HATING HOCKEY
4 . . . REALITY BITES
5 . . . LONDON CALLING
6 . . . THIS IS EASY
7 . . . WHERE’S MARUK?
8 . . . LEARN TO BE A PRICK
9 . . . A WHOLE LOTTA BOOM BOOM
10 . . . THIS IS THE NHL?
11 . . . NO, THIS IS THE NHL?
12 . . . VETERAN ADVICE
13 . . . YOU STILL OWE ME!
14 . . . HELLO, CLEVELAND
15 . . . HOT NEWS
16 . . . LIQUID LUNCH AND A HOCKEY GAME
17 . . . NOBODY DREAMS OF THE BARONS
18 . . . MINNESOTA OR BUST — I’LL TAKE BUST
19 . . . HELLO, GOODBYE
20 . . . CAPITAL CITY
21 . . . MR. INTERNATIONAL
22 . . . A NEW DAD
23 . . . GUITAR TOWN
24 . . . CHASING 50
25 . . . THE SAME OLD SITUATION
26 . . . FINDING MY GROOVE
27 . . . MR. PRESIDENT
28 . . . SHIVERS
29 . . . THE ROAD TO 60
30 . . . 60
31 . . . GO OVIE
32 . . . MARUK AND OATES
33 . . . SAVE THE CAPS
34 . . . THE LEFT SIDE
35 . . . THE CAPS ARE HOT
36 . . . THE CHRISTIANS AND THE LIONS
37 . . . A VERY SHORT DEBUT
38 . . . BACK TO MINNY
39 . . . SURVIVAL OF THE PRICKIEST
40 . . . A FIVE-YEAR LOAN
41 . . . COWBELL
42 . . . A GLIMMER OF THE PAST
43 . . . LESSONS FROM A COACH AND A BABY GIRL
44 . . . OUCH
45 . . . I’M DONE
46 . . . NOW WHAT?
47 . . . THE ART OF SCORING
48 . . . ONE DOOR OPENS, ANOTHER CLOSES
49 . . . THE WPHL
50 . . . THE COMEBACK
51 . . . THE BOAT, PART II
52 . . . SO LONG, LOUISIANA
53 . . . ROCKY MOUNTAIN HIGH
54 . . . BROKEN
55 . . . DRIVING TO DEATH
56 . . . HOME
57 . . . MOM
58 . . . THANK YOU
59 . . . WHAT DOES 60 MEAN?
60 . . . NOW
PHOTOS
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
COPYRIGHT


FOREWORD
by Marcel Dionne
I first heard about a player named Dennis Maruk when I was in the NHL and he was racking up the points in junior with the London Knights. He ended up with 145 points in his final year of junior, two more than my single junior season-high — something he would remind me about when he eventually made it to the NHL.
Dennis was a lot like me. We weren’t the biggest players in the league, but he was a very competitive guy. We didn’t play for very good teams either. It’s not that our teams had bad players, we just weren’t on good teams. When he came up as a rookie with the Seals, all I would see was a pretty quiet guy who was scoring goals behind that Fu Machu. But when I got the chance to play with Dennis at the World Championships, I saw a different side of him. And it’s that side of Dennis that helped him to have an impressively long career, playing in the NHL for 14 seasons, in almost 900 regular-season games.
They used to call Dennis “Pee Wee.” Well, that word doesn’t exist in my life. A lot of hockey teams will visit my diner in Niagara Falls. I always meet the teams when they come in, and the first thing I always ask is, “Who is the smallest player here?” All the kids will point to the guy right away. Little guys are very well liked — they have energy; they have something special. I will ask the kid his name and I’ll tell him that there is no such thing as being small. That is something that Dennis and I proved throughout our NHL careers. We played in a high flying and tough era, and even though we weren’t the biggest guys on the ice, it didn’t matter.
In the winter of 2017, I was named to the NHL’s 100 Greatest Players of All Time. I was chatting with Eric Lindros and Chris Pronger when the Top 100 were revealed. I said, “Boy, I would have loved to have played against you guys.”
And Chris Pronger, who was really quick with his response, said, “You would have gone right through our legs, eh.”
And I said, “You’re exactly right.”
Here’s the thing: I will walk in to a room with Eric Lindros, who is 6-foot-5 and 245 pounds. I’m 5-foot-7 and a half. I’m a little heavier now than in my playing days, but let’s say I’m 185, 190 pounds. People look at me beside Eric in amazement. I’ll say this: Eric is a German shepherd; he’s big and he’s strong. But Dennis and I are pit bulls. Well, guess what? The German shepherd might bite you once, but then he’ll quit. The pit bull, however, won’t quit. Dennis Maruk was a pit bull who scored 60 goals in an NHL season. It’s time you heard his story.


1 THE BOAT
I peered out the window. My eyes searched for any sign of the sky, but there was nothing. The only thing I could see was wave after wave crashing into the thin pane of glass that separated me from an impromptu swim. And I wanted absolutely no part of that.
“Dennis, take over the boat,” the captain said. The captain was older and smaller than me. A nice man and a veteran sailor who had spent 30 years on the sea, he was skinny and missing a few teeth. He clearly looked the part.
Take over the boat? What in the hell was this guy talking about? We were in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico, surrounded by massive oil tankers, and, trust me, this was not the night to be out for a pleasure cruise.
“I’ve gotta get some sleep,” the captain said.
The boat was a 160-foot-long supply ship. The mission: deliver supplies to tankers throughout the Gulf of Mexico. However, my mission on this night was a bit different: survive. There were two deck hands and two captains on board. One crew was asleep, and my captain and I were at the helm. For some strange reason, the captain thought it was the perfect time to throw me, a greenhorn, to the wolves . . . or was it the fishes? “I’m tired. I’m going to lie down. You run the ship.” Those were the captain’s orders.
I guess I didn’t have much of a choice. Before he climbed into his bunk, the captain gave me one final tap on the shoulder. I looked up from the computer-controlled monitors and into the captain’s eyes, ready for my one and only lesson before I took control of the ship.
“There’s one thing you gotta look out for on the radar,” he bellowed. “THE BIG WHITE BARS. Those are the rigs, the big oil containers, and the boats. Wake me up when you see one of those.”
He told me not to worry, everything was on radar. Well, he said, almost everything — there might be the odd ship that hadn’t been registered. Gee, that’s comforting — just the odd ship that I can’t see as wave after wave crashes into us in the dead of the night. I can handle that — on my third day on the job. (Yes, I’m being sarcastic.)
With that, the captain was off to bed. Waves were crashing around me, the boat was tumbling from one side to the other, and I was the only guy awake on the ship. For the first few minutes behind the helm, my heart was pounding. I wanted to quit. I couldn’t do this. But quitting was not an option.
I looked over at the captain, who was nodding off. I asked, “How long are you going to sleep?” I figured he’d say a couple of minutes. Instead, he just looked over at me and said, “A couple of hours.”
And just like that, I was a boat captain on the high seas, navigating through the night — and through life.
Just a few years earlier, sailing the high seas was not part of my future plans. After all, I was dining with the president of the United States, on my way to becoming just the seventh man in NHL history to score 60 goals in a season. But life had delivered its fair share of surprises, and there would be many more to come.
My name is Dennis Maruk, and this is my story.


2 THE WHITE/BLACK/GREY ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM
“Dennis had one of the best Fu Manchus in the league. Today, he sometimes still tries to grow it, except it’s grey. He led the ’70s look in the league. It would have been noticed more, but he was in Washington.”
— Wendel Clark, Leafs legend
Before we go any further, let’s address one thing right off the bat — my moustache. These days, when I show up at a charity hockey game or at any other function where I’m part of the festivities, the first question I usually get once I enter the room is, “Hey, Maruk! Where’s the moustache?”
Based on that question, I’m sure you can conclude that the “ Moustache” is not around anymore. But I wore it for my entire playing career. When I scored 60 goals, it was there. When I met the president, it was there. When I showed up in Oakland, it was there. And on all my hockey cards, it’s there. You didn’t see the Capitals on Hockey Night in Canada very often back in the day, but if you opened a pack of O-Pee-Chee hockey cards in 1982, you knew the Caps had a guy with a wicked handlebar. Well, that was me. So let’s get to the bottom of how I became known as the man with the Fu Manchu.
When I was 14 years old, I got my first summer job. I didn’t work at a burger joint, or pump gas, or help out at a farm like a lot of hockey players did. I bought liquor. Yep. My first summer job as a kid in Toronto was going on liquor runs for other kids. How did I get the gig? The answer is simple. Not only was I blessed with an ability to play the game of hockey, but I was also blessed with the ability to grow a beard at a very young age. They