Ice Hockey: The Elusive 545th

ICE HOCKEY

He could hardly be expected to remember the first goal he scored for the Detroit Red Wings. That was a dozen teeth, 300 stitches and 1,132 games ago, and in 18 seasons, Gordie Howe, 35, has flicked more pucks at National Hockey League goals than anybody who ever lived. But Gordie will have no trouble remembering his 545th goal. It was the most difficult he ever scored.

Remember Roger Maris’ 61st home run—the bitter frustration and the agonizing suspense until he finally connected? So it was for Howe last week. Back on Oct. 27, he had scored No. 544 against the Montreal Canadiens, thus tying Maurice (“The Rocket”) Richard’s alltime record. Now he was shooting for a new record and another entry to add to the eleven marks he already holds. Suddenly everything got much tougher. As a matter of pride, rival defensemen double teamed him, jabbed him with sticks and elbows, smashed him to the ice with vicious body checks.

Chicago shut Gordie out, then New York, Montreal and Boston. Against New York, he even had a “gift” shot at an unprotected goal and banged the puck harmlessly off a metal stanchion. Normally cool and controlled, he acquired a noticeable tic, exploded in anger at a magazine photographer. “This pressure is getting me,” he muttered. It was getting everybody: desperately trying to feed Gordie the puck, his teammates passed up dozens of easy shots for themselves, lost three out of five games. “We’ve got to get this goal and get it over with,” grumbled Coach Sid Abel as the Red Wings slid to fourth place.

Last week in Detroit, again playing against the Montreal Canadiens, Gordie Howe finally got that elusive No. 545. The right way too. Detroit was short a man on a penalty when Gordie, who was supposed to be killing time, picked up a loose puck deep in Red Wing territory. He flipped it to Right Wing Billy McNeill and flashed down the ice so fast that the Montreal defensemen were caught flatfooted. McNeill drew Montreal’s Charlie Hodge out of the goal. Then he passed to Howe—and Gordie rammed it into the net so hard that he slid off balance past the goal with his stick raised high in triumph over his head. For ten minutes, 15,027 fans whooped it up, showering the ice with assorted debris —soiled cups, programs, fedoras, part of an apple, and a baked potato. Howe flashed a weary smile. “I feel ten pounds lighter,” he sighed.