Perhaps fittingly, it’s nine years ago that Gordie Howe took his final breath. Once considered the best hockey player of all time, Howe was the subject of more books than even AI can find, and I thought I’d seen the last of them until I spotted “Nine Lessons I Learned From My Father.”
On my bookshelf for who knows how long, from a donor I can’t remember, it was about to be one I was unlikely to read. But this was a fairly short one (232 pages), and I was going on vacation, so the timing was right. Its author was Howe’s third son, Murray, who left hockey for medicine, so my best guess is it would be eloquent.
This son’s ode to his father was written the year after Howe died. It was a “nice” book — as you would expect — personal, insightful and at times funny. Included were stories or anecdotes I’d never heard about the “greatest before Gretzky,” some of which could only be told by a son.
Like the night, after a game in New York, that 11-year-old Murray was standing on the street with his Dad, talking to another player, when a knife-wielding mugger demanded money. Gordie Howe, with the calmness that always defined him, unveiled his muscular forearms and promised instead to give the thug something he hadn’t ask for. Imagine if Howe had been stabbed, with a third of his career not yet played.
And how Murray’s mother Colleen, when at age 16 landed a job as an executive assistant to one of General Motors’ founders because she could recite the alphabet backwards. That founder’s generosity helped build a state-of-the-art children’s hospital where one of her sons (Mark) would have surgery and another (Murray) would become a paediatric radiologist.
And Howe’s reaction after his sister Vi smashed his first-ever new car during a joyride with his wife, who was teaching her sister-in-law how to drive. Said Howe: “You silly girl.”
And the many words of wisdom from father to son: “Play the cards you’re dealt the best you can, and be thankful you get to play”… “What good is money except to do something nice for someone?”… “If it’s not fun, do something else”… “Never forget where you came from, or who got you there.”
While Gordie Howe’s demeanour on the ice could be vicious, his persona off it was what his fans — and his family — saw. If he wasn’t the ultimate father, and the ultimate husband (in his wallet until the day he died was a honeymoon picture of Colleen), he seemed to be a first-class imposter.
The first time I met Howe he was speaking at Dads and Lads, an event co-sponsored by the newspaper I worked for and Eaton’s, his long-time sponsor. About to play his 25th season, he’d scored 763 goals. He was asked about his first one.
“I was five and it was against my sister. We had a new pair of skates. She wore one and I wore the other.”
Always quick and clever off the ice, Howe was the consummate pro on the ice until his final game, as a grandfather. His son’s book defines him as an all-star in both settings.
