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I've Never Been Anything But A St. Louis Blue.And If I Have Anything To Say About It, That Will Never Change.Very few players are fortunate enough to play their entire career for one team, and even fewer get to carry on as head coach once they retire. It will sound funny to some people, but I feel lucky that I can give back to the St. Louis Blues as much as they have given me. I came to St. Louis in 1976 as a second-round draft choice, a kid out of a small town who expected to follow in his dad's footsteps as a farmer. I've done that, but by the time I reached the junior level in hockey and realized that players I knew I could play with were being drafted into the NHL, I figured I could give it a shot, too. Thankfully, the St. Louis Blues had the same idea. As a farmer, I've always known that if I don't do the work, then it's not going to get done. I guess I had the same attitude on the ice that I have on the farm. People say I work hard, but it's never seemed hard to me. I couldn't imagine being any other way. If you want results, you have to work for it. If it comes easy, there's something wrong. A good, hard day's work is very satisfying.
I didn't play much my first couple years in St. Louis. I sat on the bench, watched and learned. One way I could help the team and stay in the league was by fighting. It was a tough league then; the Dave Hutchinsons, the Dan Maloneys, the Keith Magnusons. I fought Keith Magnuson so many times I don't even want to try to count. Maybe I spent too much time fighting those guys, but as far as I was concerned, it was something that had to be done. It wasn't so much that I had to prove how tough I was, but that as a team, we had to stand up to that type of opposition. And I always figured I was the guy to do it. It simply was part of what I had to do to help the team win.
Boston always had tough teams. You couldn't back down from Terry O'Reilly or Wayne Cashman if you were going to have a chance to win. I always respected those guys. I fought them, but I never talked. If someone said something to me from the bench I'd just say, "On the ice." But players who talked from the safety of the bench very seldom backed it up on the ice. It got to a point early in my pro career that our coach, Barclay Plager, told me not to fight. I simply hated to lose, and I hated it if anyone laughed at me or my team. I didn't care if it was the last minute of the game, I'd fight. If I wasn't scoring goals and we weren't winning I felt I could get even in other ways. Head CoachJacques Martin's contract expired after the 1987-88 season, and the Blues decided not to renew it. I had played for a few coaches, and as a player I always felt responsible in some way when a coach lost his job. A coach can't go out there and play the game for you. So the Blues were in the market for a head coach. Little did I know what the eventual outcome would be! I was in the option year of my contract and I had never played out my option, 80 I knew I would be meeting with management at the end of the season. I talked to Mr. Caron, our general manager, and he said we would be getting together again. The president of the Blues, Jack Quinn, called me in and suggested that I start thinking about something beyond my playing days. I was stunned, but I quickly realized what he was implying.
I still wanted to play, but Mr. Caron and Mr. Quinn felt I was ready to coach the Blues. I was honored that they felt that way, and I owed it to them to at least think it over. A couple of days later Mike Keenan was fired as coach in Philadelphia, and the St. Louis people had an interest in bringing someone with his talents into the club. I was willing to do what was best for the team. If Mr. Keenan had come to St. Louis instead of Chicago, I would have been happy to play for him, because the man is a winner. As things turned out I was flattered and extremely proud that, at the age of 31, I was asked to coach the St. Louis Blues. Retirement was a sad experience for me, because I knew I would miss playing. But I remembered what Barclay told me, about retiring at the top of your game and being proud of your accomplishments. I felt I got out that way. I was proud of what I did. I did everything the team asked of me. I played twelve years in the National Hockey League, something a lot of kids consider only a dream. You always hear guys say how they want to play ten years. Hell, I just wanted to play that one year. I played like I was never going to get another opportunity. We made the playoffs in ten of my twelve seasons as a player, and we went as far as the conference finals only once, in 1986. So I never knew what it was like to go home for the summer happy.
When the season ended it burned inside me until training camp the next fall. I couldn't wait to get started again to prove to people that we could do better. I didn't learn the game in a book. I learned it by playing in the league for twelve years. I was fortunate to play for Barclay Plager, Emile Francis and Jacques Demers. Those three, in that order, were the biggest influences on me once I reached the professional level. They were all fair, and they were all the same in one very important regard: if you came to play, you played. I wouldn't have wanted it any other way. As captain of the Blues, I was embarrassed whenever we lost in the playoffs. I would have felt the same way if I wasn't captain. I used to go home and feel as though everyone was laughing at me. I couldn't wait to get back and prove that we could do it. It doesn't matter how well you did individually, you can look back and think of things you could have done differently to change that final score. No one should be satisfied after losing. I cared about my job, but more than that, I cared about the people around me. I always took the attitude that if the guy sitting next to me did well, and every guy in that dressing room did well, I'm going to be better for it. I never concerned myself with who was getting the glory. Let's win, and let the rest take care of itself. What bothers me the most is to see guys play in the league for a few years and then expect everyone to bow to their wishes, as if to say, "Okay, now you owe me." I don't want to know if you've played one year or ten years; you should go out on the ice with the attitude that you have to give something, not get something. When the opposite occurs, it hurts the individual and the hockey team. I've seen it happen. There were a lot of guys who gave us bad advice when we were young because they didn't want us thking their jobs. It must have been because they weren't secure in their own abilities. And they obviously weren't committed to winning.
I always tried to help the young guys as much as I could because I knew they were our future. Over the years, players no longer with the Blues would call to say thanks for the help I had given them when they were starting out. I had guys like the Plagers, Red Berenson, Jimmy Roberts, Teddy Irvin, who helped me. If there's one thing you want to make sure of as a coach it is that you have everyone, young players and veterans, caring and working together toward the same goal. To become a winning club in hockey you have to have good people, from the owners down through management. They have to be cohesive in their energies toward winning, and it's an attitude that has to be passed down to the players. I believe we have that in St. Louis, with our ownership group led by Mike Shanahan, our president, Jack Quinn, and Ron Caron, our general manager. Joe Micheletti and Bob Berry are our assistant coaches, and I don't make any decisions without their input. Bob and Joe not only are trusted and loyal coaches, but have become close friends of mine as well. To be successful you have to have quality people around you, people like Bob and Joe, our minor league coach, Wayne Thomas, and Bob Plager, our director of player development. The young guys who have relied on the older guys for leadership have to step to the front. If it happens, St. Louis fans are going to like what they see. The Blues were one of the top teams in the league in the late sixties and early seventies, and I would like to relive those days in the nineties. We're a young organization that has to grow together - ultimately, to bring a Stanley Cup to St. Louis. All the St. Louis fans ask for is a solid effort. They appreciate hard work; it's a working people's town. If you lose because you quit, they won't accept that. I have always been proud of the team I played for and the city I played in. My family and I owe the people of St. Louis a lot. They were unbelievably kind to me when I played. We call St. Louis home.
A Few More ChancesWhen I think about players having their numbers retired in the NHL, I think of the great players who have their names on the Stanley Cup. I can't express the regret I feel over never having that reward as a player, but as coach of the Blues I'll have a few more chances. When I handed in my stick for a whistle, only two numbers had ever been retired by the Blues, and I can honestly say that I had never thought much about it ever happening to me. I was pleased when Barclay's number 8 was retired because I knew what he meant to the organization. And no one will ever wear number 3 for the Blues again. Bobby Gassoff was a young guy who was really coming on as a player when he died in a motorcycle accident in 1977. Mine was the third number to be retired by the Blues. On December 30,1988, the St. Louis club honored me by hanging up my number 11 sweater. Mom, Dad and Marg Ross were in St. Louis for the ceremony, and a number of my brothers were able to fly in, too, which I appreciated, because they had to make special arrangements to be there. The whole thing didn't really hit me until a few days afterward. I was too wound up that night to take it all in. Winning that game was the priority, and as it turned out we had to settle for a 5-5 tie with Minnesota. We were at practice three days later when I happened to look up and saw the number 11 up there next to 8 and 3. I was stunned, flattered and proud. When I was able to sit back and think about it, I had the same thoughts as when I retired: how long I had played, how much fun I had. I've never been one to tell you how many goals or assists I had, but I can tell you that I played twelve years and enjoyed every minute of it. I surprised a lot of people. Some said I didn't have the skills to play in the National Hockey League. Some said I couldn't score goals, others that I couldn't skate. One of the biggest pleasures in life is accomplishing something someone said you weren't capable of doing. | ||||||||||
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