The Goal of My Life

The Goal of My Life by Paul Henderson Page B

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Authors: Paul Henderson
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teammates for life. Maybe it is politically incorrect to refer to a hockey series as a war these days, but that’s what it felt like to us. Because of the political tensions off the ice and the at-times brutal play on the ice, it was more like war than hockey in the minds of us players.
    When you go to war with someone, you share a common bond forever, and as a result, all of us who were on Team Canada ’72 remain close after all these years. What got us through that series was our spirit and our common belief that we were representing our country and that we would all do anything it took to win that series.
    Anything.
    Of the thirty-five players on that roster, nobody was more of a competitor than Bobby Clarke when it came to doingwhatever it took to win. If this was really a war, Clarke was the ultimate warrior, the one guy who took no prisoners, would never surrender, would battle until the bitter end.
    He was a great teammate, and we all knew that. I respected him then, and I respect him now, for all he brought to the table and to our team. It’s now forty years since that memorable series and I haven’t changed my view of Bobby Clarke one bit in all that time.
    But I have changed my view of The Slash – which is still talked about almost as much as my winning goal in game eight.
    We had struggled against the Russians enormously in the series, right from the get-go. By the time we got to the Soviet Union for the final four games of the series, we knew first-hand just how tough this Russian team was to handle on the ice.
    One player in particular, the great Valeri Kharlamov, was causing us fits. It was clear by the time we got to Russia that he was a player we were going to have to find a way to stop if we were going to win the series. And in game six, Clarke found a way to stop him: a vicious slash to his ankle. There can be no doubt that he intended to knock the Russian great out of the game. That’s just the way Bobby played hockey.
    I didn’t see the slash when it happened, but I wasn’t that upset with it. We were all caught up in the moment. Today, a slash like that would result in an automatic suspension, that’s for sure. Could you imagine, say, the Detroit Red Wings going out and deliberately breaking Sidney Crosby’s ankle so they could have a better chance of winning the Stanley Cup? But, as was the case with concussions, it was a different era and there was a different philosophy. We all supported Bobby; we all wanted to win that much.
    As I mentioned, as the years have gone by, we have remained close teammates, all of us, getting together whenever possible for special events such as anniversary celebrations. In 2002, I was at a hockey game when a reporter asked me what I thought, with the benefit of thirty years of hindsight, of the slash that led to Kharlamov’s ankle being broken. I should have been more wary of the question.
    “It was the low point of the series,” I said, and my comments were broadcast widely by the media.
    They obviously hurt Bobby a great deal. “I think it’s improper to criticize a teammate thirty years later,” he responded in the
Globe and Mail
. “If it was so offensive, why didn’t he bother to say something after the game?
    “I’m surprised at him, because we were a true team. Thirty years ago, we put forth the ultimate team performance. I thought it was foolish for him to say that. It doesn’t hurt me, but I don’t understand why he would bring it up now.”
    I regret that Bobby was upset by my remarks and I apologized to him profusely afterwards. But I want to take this opportunity to set the record straight on exactly how I feel on this issue.
    I now feel the reporter was just looking to create some controversy and get himself a story, and he sure did. First of all, I didn’t bring the subject up. I was blindsided by his question, and all I said was that I thought it was wrong in terms of my grandchildren, who were now playing hockey. He conveniently left

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