Paul Wieland - Then Perreault Said to Rico. . .: The Best Buffalo Sabres Stories Ever Told

Foreword

He was there when it happened, so when Paul Wieland goes back to the beginning of the Buffalo Sabres in the National Hockey League, its part of his personal life story. The following pages describe the meteoric rise of a team that reached the pinnacle for an expansion franchise: appearing in the Stanley Cup Finals after the short span of only five years in the league.

Paul describes in great detail the building of the franchise, including the countless hours invested by people who are no longer with us Seymour and Norty Knox, Dave Forman, Punch Imlach, Frank Christie, and Ted Darling, to name just a few. These men were the pillars of strength in getting the Buffalo Sabres off the ground and onto the ice.

Paul is able to recount many intimate happenings because of his multifaceted duties with the club in public relations, marketing, and television. His recall of events and friendship with many of the players provides insight to all hockey fans as to how things get done in a professional sports organization. The forming of the French Connection line of Gilbert Perreault, Rick Martin, and Rene Robert is recalled in amazing detail. Other Sabres greats like Jim Schoenfeld, Danny Gare, Mike Foligno, Craig Ramsay, and present Buffalo coach Lindy Ruff are also included in a historic march through time.

I have known Paul Wieland for more than 30 years and I must commend him for his recall of events and attention to detail. In Then Perreault Said to Rico Paul takes the reader through the formation of the Sabres. Because he also has been a writer and television producer he has been able to keep his finger on the pulse in producing this book.

Scotty Bowman

7. The Man Who Never Was

Wouldnt it be great if someone would take a player who isnt even eligible for draft? Theyd be screwed up in Montreal [league headquarters then] if they had to chase that one down.

John Andersen

Taro

The NHL was at war with the young World Hockey Association, and the leagues general managers agreed to a ploy that would serve as a tactical victory, if not a strategic one.

It was 1975, and in Buffalo general manager Punch Imlach couldnt have been more vocal about the NHLs decision to hold its entire entry draft over the phone. Expletive, expletive, expletive NHL; expletive, expletive, expletive, roared Imlach whenever anyone even mentioned the draft.

The idea, presumably, was to keep each teams choices, as well as the round in which they took any player, secret. This was supposed to allow the NHL to sign players before the WHA even knew who was drafted in what round and thus, not be able to offer the kind of money needed to outbid a draftee from any particular round. If this sounds convoluted, so be it. The machinations of pro leagues at war with each other would cause a constitutional crisis if they were part of governing a nation. It came down to the fact that some teams are always cheaper than others thus, some wouldnt go to the wall to sign a draftee in then NHL-WHA war.

On that early June day, general managers, coaches, and scouts waited patiently in every NHL office for the phone to ring so they could pick it up to hear NHL President Clarence Campbell sonorously announce on speakerphone: (Team Name), it is your selection in the first round. No other team could hear the call to any succeeding team. Before each team drafted, Campbell would read off the names and teams of every player drafted since your teams last call. This made for an interminable draft. It took hours to get through the first two rounds, and exhaustion set in by late in the afternoon. In those days the NHL was operating a draft that went on as long as teams wanted to draft, which meant that the drafting would go into a second day.

If Imlach was angry about the first day, you could say catatonic was the description when Punch had to sit down and wait for a phone call on Day Two. The Sabres continued their call as the rounds went on, and though the drafting rounds moved more quickly each succeeding time, he was still furious. John Andersen was the Sabres scouting director and sat alongside Punch. I was on the other side of him at a table and was in charge of informing the media of whom Buffalo had drafted as the rounds went on.

Andersen was Danish by birth and still had the curl of an accent from his native tongue. He also had a dry and laconic sense of humor. Wouldnt it be great, he posed, if someone would take a player who isnt even eligible for draft? Theyd be screwed up in Montreal [league headquarters then] if they had to chase that one down.

Wouldnt it be greater, I replied, if someone drafted a player that didnt even exist? Can you imagine how that would screw up the crew in Montreal trying to find his draft eligibility?

The player to be chosen?

That was the easy part. We could choose anyone we wanted to choose since we were creating the player from the wellsprings of our imaginations. How about someone from a country where hockey is played but certainly never would be producing NHL players?

How about someone from the Orient, say from Japan? They have hockey up in the north there, we knew, but on the world stage, the Japanese were merely stagehands. Japan had entered international competition and had routinely been destroyed by nearly every country its national team faced. So who would our player be?

Taro should be his first name, Andersen said. Thats a relatively common Japanese name. I recalled there was an oriental market and gift store called Tsujimotos in a Buffalo suburb. I checked a phone book for spelling, and presto, we had our player Taro Tsujimoto.

Actual players have teams and stats, so Taro needed some. A phone call later to check on the rough translation of Sabres into Japanese and we had our team the Tokyo Katanas a nickname that we were told meant Sabres in Japanese.

As any good public relations man can tell you, stats are important. I made Taro 5'10" tall, with a weight of 175 pounds. He had scored 15 goals and 10 assists for the Katanas last year, numbers that are hardly imposing. They played a short season in Japan. We finished our creation of a hockey Frankenstein with the melodic name of Taro and sat back to wait for Buffalos next drafting turn. Imlach tapped his fingers nervously on the long oak desk until we heard Campbells droning voice.

Next selection is Buffalos. Is Buffalo on line?

Yes, Imlach replied, and we listened as Campbell recited the names of all the players and their amateur teams taken since Buffalo had chosen the round before. Your selection, Buffalo?

Imlach positively smirked, leaned toward the conference phone, and said: Buffalo selects Taro Tsujimoto from the Tokyo Katanas.

There was a moments silence. Could you repeat that? asked Campbell. Punch repeated the name. Spell it, would you please? Letter by letter, Imlach spelled it out, and Campbell repeated each letter. He was clearly perplexed, but there was no way he could challenge Buffalos pick. Imlach, to Campbells knowledge, hadnt drafted someone ineligible. He had no clue, so he had to go along.

The call ended, and we decided to keep the whole thing our little secret. I prepared a brief release on the selection that was distributed by phone to the local media who were interested. It made a good note. The Sabres had drafted a Japanese player, and hes believed to be the first from that country ever taken by the NHL. In the meantime, poor Campbell had to spell Taros name and ID to every other team in the draft. There were 15 others, and we sat in the Sabres boardroom snickering every time we thought of the way the league president made his announcements.

TaroThats T-A-R-OTsujimoto...Thats T-S-U-J-I-M-O-T-Ofrom the Tokyo K-A-T-A-N-A-S.

There were times in a quarter century in the hockey business that were frustrating. But there were other times when the sheer joy of goofing around with what is, after all, just a childs game played by men wearing short pants and ice skates could not have been matched by any Fortune 500 company job.