It was at TVA Sports that the youngest generation of hockey fans got to know Mike Bossy. It was also during this mandate that he was able to come full circle with an old enemy who became a colleague, Michel Bergeron.
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“I’ve always had respect for Mike. We had our difficult times together, recalls the Tiger. In the juniors, when I was coaching in Trois-Rivières, we had a tough team. One of my players, Daniel Horne, broke his nose. Mike was not happy, but it eventually passed. It was part of junior hockey folklore. »
We go back to junior hockey, because that’s where Bossy began to write his legend. How ? By scoring 70 goals in each of his four seasons with the Laval National.
Despite his exploits, he must wait until the 15and rank to be selected in the draft of 1977, in particular because one finds it precisely too cautious in a world of hard.
The Islanders obviously did not regret their choice. Bossy started his career on a high note with 53 goals in his first season. His 9 50-goal campaigns are an NHL record that he shares, as are his 5 60-goal seasons. In 1980-81, Bossy also became the second player in history, after the immortal Maurice Richard, to score 50 goals in 50 games.
“His quickdraw was above average, describes John Tonelli, his longtime teammate. The puck didn’t stay more than a fraction of a second on his stick. His quickdraw was so fast and efficient. The puck arrived and it left immediately. »
“People often say that with today’s goalies, Bossy wouldn’t score as much. Okay, but in those days, shooters ate sticks on their hands, on their forearms, recalls Glenn “Chico” Resch, a former Islanders goaltender who then faced Bossy. In the old days, to score goals, you had to eat volleys. And yet, Boss was thin, he didn’t lift weights in the gym. It was just a gift he possessed. »
Against a current
In many ways, the theme of violence will always be present in Bossy’s career. A three-time winner of the Lady Byng Trophy (Most Gentlemanly Player), he has always spoken out against violence in hockey.
“I was so disgusted with that everywhere I went to play, he said to The Press in January 1981. But I never changed my mind and if I was able to contribute to the establishment of new regulations, I am very happy. »
“He had knee pain, back pain, recalls former linesman Ron Asselstine. At the end of his career, he was a little grumpy. His opponents were always on top of him, hitting him hard and Mike felt the referees weren’t giving enough penalties. »
His attitude was against the grain at the time. He then played in the same division as the Philadelphia Flyers, who remained tough even after the era of the “Broad Street Bullies”. And it was the NHL in general that would become increasingly violent, beginning in the mid-1980s.
But in life in general, Bossy had no trouble going against the grain.
“Rocket Richard and Boss have much more similar personalities than you might think. They had very different styles on the ice. But two things in life guided them, they had two loves. The first was to score goals. The second: the Rocket loved Lucille, and Boss loved Lucie, describes Chico Resch, Bossy’s former brother-in-arms, but also a history buff.
“Boss didn’t succumb to peer pressure. He didn’t need to be part of the gang. Boss knew he was there for the hockey. Guys come in, fill the room, like Clark Gillies, like Denis Potvin. Boss and Rocket, I wouldn’t say they were introverted, but they had their priorities straight. Boss, you couldn’t pressure her to date guys. After three hours at the arena, the guys were out. He just wanted to go see Lucie at home.
“Some guys understand that they represent the league, they understand that they have a higher mission, that it is bigger than them, than their team. Crosby is like that. Bobby Orr, Jean Béliveau were also like that. »
This description of a solitary Bossy had even made it to the pages of the prestigious Sports Illustrated, in an interview that the great number 22 will then say he regrets. “I come from a big family, so I never felt the need to be in a gang. I get on well with myself,” he told colleague Larry Brooks.
Another of his contemporaries with the Islanders, former publicist Jim Higgins, corroborates this image.
“He was generous with reporters, but as soon as his interviews were over, he went home. Some guys liked to stay, chat. Mike was a coach’s dream. While the guys stayed to joke, Mike was at home. I was told that after his career he worked for radio shows. Even if he has the qualities to do it, I would never have seen him become a media personality. »
It is precisely in the media that he was able to reconnect with Michel Bergeron. The two were colleagues at TVA Sports. It was the perfect occasion to bury the wars of the past. Bossy’s broken nose at the hands of a tough Draveurs, and on the other hand, the elimination of the Nordiques by the Islanders in 1982 in the conference final.
“Mike has always been a pet peeve. Even in junior, I had a dominant team, and despite our game plan, he found a way to score goals. In Trois-Rivières, I tried to get him, but Laval wanted to keep him, because that was the attraction. The Monday night game, he was the one selling tickets.
“Working with Mike, it brought us closer and closer. We had a lot of fun working together. »
Islanders in town
The Islanders are going through a tough time at the start of 2022. Mike Bossy is the second member of their four-Stanley Cup-winning dynasty in the early 1980s to leave us in a matter of months.
Clark Gillies, the tough big winger on a line with Bossy and Bryan Trottier, died in January. We could add the brother of Denis Potvin, Jean Potvin, who died in March. Jean Potvin played more in the 1970s, and briefly in the 1980s.
At the end of the wire, we feel that John Tonelli pushes back the sobs when he is told of the death of Mike Bossy. “We lived it with Clark, and it starts again, answers Tonelli. This is our era. We get older and this kind of thing happens. Mike was a brother, a teammate. What a player, what a human, what a good teammate. »
Bossy’s death also occurs the day the Islanders are visiting Montreal to face the Canadian in the evening, a coincidence that struck John Tonelli.
“The other day I was at a game with my son who plays Union College. We were seated and I got a call telling me Clark was dead. I lower my head, I see that I am in seat number 8, and next to me, seat number 9 [le chiffre de Gillies] is unoccupied. As if Clark was sending me a message. And there, it happens when the Islanders are in Montreal. There’s a hard-working guy upstairs. »