Dennis Hull - The Third Best Hull

This book is dedicated to Billy Reay.

INTRODUCTION

I FOUND THIS BOOK most interesting and entertaining, and a true picture of a player I admired so much. Fortunately, my wife Clare and I knew the whole Hull family Mr. and Mrs. Hull and Denniss brothers and sisters. Because Clare and I were both from families of eight, we admired the Hull family because of the thoughtful and generous way they were to one another (a gift that many families could use today). I was fortunate to have the great Golden Jet, Denniss brother Bobby Hull, play for me. Bobby was the most flamboyant and charismatic player to ever play in the NHL , so when Dennis came along I knew that he would suffer a comparison with Bobby, which he did with the fans in Chicago. Fans are sometimes cruel, but I dont think the fans in Chicago really hated him. They are the best fans in the world.

For a time, Dennis was his own worst enemy. He played great on the road and would stumble over the blue line at home in the stadium. I loved Dennis and felt for him, so much so that I called him into my office and said to him, Dennis, you are going to be here in Chicago as long as I am, so go out there, relax, and play your game. He certainly did that, and worked hard to become a great left winger. One thing you can say about Dennis: he was a grumpy guy in the morning, but an absolute joy to be with in the evening.

BILLY REAY ( 1918 2004 ),

former coach of the Chicago Blackhawks

ONE

Reaching for the Summit

SOMETIMES I WONDER how I ended up on the ice in Moscow, playing in the most important game in hockey history. I wasnt supposed to be there it was my brother Bobby who was expected to lead the charge against the Soviets in 1972 . But he had chosen to sign with the WHA and wasnt allowed to participate, which left me playing left wing with some of the biggest names in hockey in the most important game ever played. I never considered myself a star, and certainly wasnt in the same league as Stan Mikita, the Blackhawks legendary centre. But Mikita, who was also on the team, hadnt clicked with the style of play coach Harry Sinden was implementing, so there I was on the ice while Stan watched the game from a bar in Czechoslovakia. The series had gone through its distinctive highs and lows, but by the eighth and final game, I knew we could win. The team, which was pared down from its initial players to a more consistent lineup numbering around , was playing together as a group. We were united, though things hadnt exactly been smooth.

Before the final game there was already a controversy. Each team had the opportunity to pick the officials for certain games, and in the final it was our choice. The Soviet officials told us the ref wed picked was sick and that we were going to get Josef Kompalla, a West German referee who had been brutal in the sixth game.

But the team received a boost the day of the game when a telegram, several inches thick, arrived from Canada. It just kept rolling out. Up until that point, we had no sense of our immense Canadian support. The team, after all, had been booed by our own fans following the loss of Game Four in Vancouver. Besides, all we had was Russian television, which seemed to focus on the exploits of Lenin. We knew the games were being televised, but we didnt know the impact they were having in Canada.

In fact, Canada seemed distant when we were in Russia. Moscow itself was the very definition of a culture clash. The first day we were in Moscow we walked into the Luzhniki Ice Palace, where the Summit Series games were played. There were still construction workers finishing the arena. In the stands a welder was working on something, and I decided to walk over to ask what he was doing. When the shield was flipped up, I realized the welder was a woman. I remember thinking that it was the first time Id ever seen a female welder.

Likewise, when wed go into the dressing room and have a shower, there was a lady who stood nearby and handed out towels. Handing towels to naked hockey players wasnt a big deal to her, as she was obviously in her late sixties or early seventies, but it was really strange to us.

I always dressed beside Pit Martin and Jimmy Pappin before Blackhawks games. As I got ready for the final, I found myself dressing beside Rod Gilbert and Jean Ratelle, who were my linemates for the final few games. I felt relaxed. I knew I was playing with two great players and we were scoring some goals. On top of that, we felt like a team. However, with the controversy involving the referee, it was clear that the ball was in the Russians court. At the start of the game, our line assisted on a couple of goals in the first and second periods, but the team found itself down - heading into the third. The Canadian team had been accused of playing dirty, but in this case the officiating was a problem from the start. Early in the first period, J.P. Paris received a penalty without doing anything to merit one.