A Great Game (42 page)

The Stanley Cup had not become a trophy for professional hockey because its trustees were committed to the principles of playing for pay. On the contrary, they had been reluctant converts. However, given that the original viceregal gift had come with no stipulation that the Cup be awarded solely to amateurs, the trustees had decided that the winner would be the very best team and players, regardless of how they were organized. As trustee William Foran explained, “The Stanley Cup is not hung up for either amateur or professional hockey in particular but for the best hockey.”
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If Toronto wanted one thing, it was to be the best. And being best, of course, meant being better than archrival Montreal, which could claim sixteen Cup titles since Lord Stanley's trophy was first awarded back in 1893.
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That was what its pro managers, the Tecumsehs' Billy Nicholson and the Blue Shirts' Bruce Ridpath, told the fans they would get. To win the Stanley Cup, they would set out on diametrically opposite recruitment strategies for their first National Hockey Association season.

The Tecumsehs aimed to build their winner from established professional ranks. In fact, it was this club, not the new Torontos, that offered openings to veterans of Alexander Miln's original pro squad. In the course of their December tryouts, Herb Birmingham, Harry Burgoyne, Con Corbeau, Charlie Liffiton and the elusive Bert Morrison all fought for places in the lineup.

Of these, only Corbeau was successful, although Ezra Dumart also returned to the Queen City during the course of the season. Dumart had played a single match for the old Toronto Professionals—their March 1907 exhibition against the Montreal Wanderers. As a longtime fixture on the Berlin Dutchmen, he was, though, the top goal scorer over the four-year history of the Ontario Professional Hockey League.

Naturally, the Tecumsehs' hunt for veterans did not confine itself to Toronto. Gradually—indeed, at a shockingly slow pace—the team began to ink contracts with a number of familiar pro journeymen and the occasional former star. These regulars would ultimately include Horace Gaul (originally from Ottawa), Ernie Liffiton (brother of Charlie, from Montreal), George and Howard McNamara (brothers of former
Toronto Pro Harold, from the Canadian Soo), Harry Smith (Ottawa), Art Throop (Ottawa), Steve Vair (Barrie) and Nicholson himself (Montreal).

It is interesting to note that Ridpath took a pass on his old teammates from the original Torontos. In fact, the only holdover from the old Mutual Street Pros was the trainer, Frank Carroll, who had at one time been a boxer of some note, winning the Canadian welterweight championship in 1906. Bruce did, however, give tryouts to the Blue Shirts' one-game “city championship” team of the previous season—the gang that had been drawn from the ranks of the Toronto Lacrosse Club. Of those men, Ridpath signed only goalkeeper Harry “Hap” Holmes, previously a comer on the local amateur hockey scene. Among those he dropped was forward Ed Longfellow, who then landed a place as a spare with the Tecumsehs.

The bigger surprise was Riddy's decision to forgo almost entirely any attempt to sign known professionals (excepting, of course, Cyclone Taylor). Most of his regulars would be players only two years out of the junior ranks. They included Allan “Scotty” Davidson (a Kingston graduate playing in Calgary), Frank Foyston (of the dissolving Eaton's team), Roy “Minnie” McGiffin (of Teddy Marriott's Simcoes), and Carol “Cully” Wilson (Winnipeg). Bruce also grabbed youngsters Harry Cameron and Frank “Dutch” Nighbor from Port Arthur—part of the NHA raids that finished off the New Ontario
pro league. This left just Archie “Sue” McLean, enticed away from the Pacific Coast Hockey Association, as the only previous big-leaguer among the new Torontos' starters.

As the Tecumsehs inched forward and the Blue Shirts recruited unknowns, the reaction of the Queen City's OHA-controlled newspapers was predictably negative. Story after story talked about teams of “bushers” being built “on the cheap.”
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It was claimed that the other NHA clubs feared the league's Toronto expansion was turning into a fiasco. Rumours were spread of emergency plans to come to the rescue of the uncompetitive fledgling entities. And any unsuccessful attempt to sign a local amateur player was quickly reported and immediately ridiculed.

To this pro catastrophe, a solution was conveniently offered: OHA senior hockey. Toronto had a number of good clubs playing at the Arena Gardens that season, even if the champion Eatonias, deemed “professional” because of their connection with the department store, would not be among them. One was certainly the St. Michael's College team. The Allan Cup champions of 1910 were always in the hunt. Another was, conveniently, a new amateur “Torontos.”

The original amateur Torontos had been the Toronto Amateur Athletic Club. Back in the days of Alex Miln's Torontos, the TAAC had used the same moniker and had also adopted dark red as their colour. Now, with the arrival of the NHA Torontos, the TAAC had reorganized. In the fall of 1912, under the leadership of Eddie Livingstone, they became the “Toronto Rugby and Athletic Association.” The TR&AA chose as the colours for these new “Torontos” none other than blue and white.

The Blue Shirts had to have been worried about this amateur competition and the possible confusion around the team name and colours. Of the two Toronto pro clubs, the Tecumsehs, with their known players, certainly sounded the stronger. They also had an intimidating defence, anchored by the “Dynamite Twins,” the heavy-hitting McNamara brothers, and supplemented by spare rearguard Corbeau and goalkeeper Nicholson. Each of the quartet was said to tip the scales at almost 200 pounds.

Conversely, the Indians' forwards appeared decidedly slow in their preseason workouts. That was certainly not the case for Ridpath's boys. Whatever the OHA papers claimed, the “railbirds” who took in their practices at the Arena came away saying the Blue Shirts looked surprisingly fast and skilled for a bunch of no-names.

In fact, both Queen City pro clubs came out of the starting gate better than the local hockey powers had predicted. The Tecumsehs won three of their first five games and challenged for the league lead early in the campaign. Yet, while the rookie Torontos were generally competitive in their contests, they had only one victory in their first six.

The young Blue Shirts seemed to have all the talent and energy in the world, but little team play, finish or confidence, especially in the tough going. Ridpath's coaching was most commonly cited as the problem. He was said to be overusing the substitute rule—that is, changing players too frequently and often at the wrong times. Riddy was also reputed to be temperamental on the bench.

In fairness, Ridpath acted quickly to address the issue. Shortly after the season began, he retained a respected veteran to help him coach the team. It was none other than Jack Marshall, the referee of the Blue Shirts'
December 25 home opener. While Marshall immediately brought a greater sense of stability to the bench and to practice, the team at first still failed to win.

The club's biggest problem was really Bruce Ridpath's absence from the ice. Notwithstanding periodic rumours of his return, the after-effects of his accident—vision problems, unsteadiness—led him to quickly nip such reports in the bud.

What were the Blue Shirts to do? Marshall publicly observed after the Christmas game that the Torontos had the makings of a solid team. He said they needed just one veteran on the ice to steady them. As it became apparent that Ridpath was never going to play, Marshall then offered a solution: himself.

It was not an obvious choice. True, Marshall had at one time been a force on the ice. Indeed, back in 1902, he was the original “Little Man of Iron,” leading the Winged Wheelers of Montreal to their surprise Stanley Cup win over the Winnipeg Victorias. In fact, Marshall had played for a Vics Cup team even before that. When the Wheeler champions defected
to the Wanderers, Jack had gone with them and had won Lord Stanley's mug with that club, too. Alex Miln had also tapped him to be a key man when he was putting together the aborted Toronto pro club of 1905–06.

All of that, however, was now many years in the past. Since then, Marshall had added dozens more scars and wrinkles to his battle-hardened face—one of which represented a serious injury that had caused the loss of some vision in one eye. On top of all that, “Jawn” was now thirty-five years old.

None of it mattered. The moment Marshall stepped on the ice in a Torontos uniform—January 15, 1913—it was as if he had discovered the fountain of youth. Just four days earlier, the Blue Shirts had been beaten convincingly by the Tecumsehs, 5–2. This time, with that one veteran to steady them, the contest was no match, and the Indians went down to a 6–1 defeat.

“The cause of the startling reversal in form: not far to seek—Jack Marshall's brains and Jack Marshall's grit,”
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was how the
Star
succinctly put it. Marshall had anchored the defence and occasionally contributed to the attack. More important, in his foghorn voice he had quarterbacked the lineup and called out the plays. It was a commanding performance.

That game was the turning point of the season. The Tecumsehs soon plateaued and then began to falter. Rather than looking big, they started to look just slow. Instead of looking experienced, they became old. Beyond a strong defence corps, there really was not much. Their scoring became anemic. Nicholson's goaltending, never great to start with, became chronically weak.

On the other side, the Blue Shirts began to come together as a team. There were still ups and downs, but the trend line was unmistakably
pointing skyward. With Marshall in the lineup, the youngsters would win eight and lose just five. The indispensability of the ageless rearguard was shown in the one game he subsequently missed owing to a death in the family: the young Torontos got shellacked 11–2 at home by Quebec City's Bulldogs.