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JUST VISITING . . .
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Robin Brownlee
Apr 5, 2016, 16:21 EDTUpdated: Invalid DateTime
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I’ve got to admit, Rexall Place never felt like home to me. It didn’t the first time I walked into it back in 1989. It won’t the last time I walk out of it and it didn’t in the 27 years in between. Great memories? Sure. Moments I’ll never forget? Absolutely. But I always felt like a guest. A visitor.
The rink was 15 years old by the time I arrived at The Journal, tagging along behind columnist Cam Cole and legendary beat man Jim Matheson, who had already documented absolutely everything worth noting about the Edmonton Oilers dating back to their WHA beginnings and who already had one foot in the writers’ wing of the HHOF.
As Matty introduced me around the rink, it became obvious he knew everybody and everything. I, on the other hand, did not. As the new hire, I was just there to fill in any blanks – Jimmy left none – and produce the odd sidebar in a look-see as his back-up midway through the 1989-90 season. It’s a gig Mark Spector would take over the next year for six or seven seasons.
I can only deduce from that I didn’t make much of a first impression, save for the goofy pony tail I was sporting. GM Glen Sather certainly noticed it, giving it a playful tug while scanning Barrie Stafford’s equipment box for a pair of scissors. So did Dave Brown, who stared at me the way a snake looks at a rabbit, just before he eats it, and Teddy Green, whose eyes seemed to narrow every time I walked into the room. Maybe it was the earring.

GLORY DAYS GONE BY

The thing is, the Oilers had already won four Stanley Cups by the time I walked into the rink we now call Rexall Place. So many memories and much history had been made there. Even with one more Stanley Cup celebration to come, Edmonton’s place as an NHL dynasty, perhaps its last, was already assured. Wayne Gretzky was gone, sold to Los Angeles.
I knew the lore of the team and the building, essentially a twin of the Pacific Coliseum back home in Vancouver, but I’d missed most of the fun. Arriving after the fact, well, it’s not the same as witnessing it from the stands, yelling your face off or recording everything along the way guys like Cole, Matty, Terry Jones, Dick Chubey and Rod Phillips had. I envied them.
Still, I was thrilled to get an opportunity to cover the home games during the 1990 Stanley Cup. It was a taste of what fans and media here had gorged on in this rink for years. A swan sang, it turned out. I’d rattle around covering the Trappers of the Pacific Coast League for six seasons, pitching in on the Oilers beat during the lean years as needed until 1998-99, when I took over as the beat guy with Matty focusing on the NHL at large.
After moving to The Sun in 2000, the Oilers finally got another swing at things during their storybook Cup run of 2006. With all the old greats long gone and a new cast in place, that unlikely run by the underdog Oilers was a helluva lot of fun to be in the middle of. Certain moments are as vivid to me now as if they happened yesterday, even with the decade of frustration fans have endured since then.

THE WAY I SAW IT

With so many of the great players from the dynasty days back in town for the final game at Rexall Place Wednesday, there’s been some terrific stuff written already about the old rink. Spector gave a couple of takes here and here. Jones scribbled this. As usual, before I even started on this item, Matty wrote it first and wrote it better here.
I can’t compete with that, but for me the most vivid memories of Rexall Place are about moments I experienced and the people I met along the way, rather than about the games played out on the ice. There are plenty of games that stand out, of course – Game 6 of the 2006 Cup final being the most obvious – but for me they’re somewhat secondary.

THE PEOPLE

  • The children waiting on Ryan Smyth. It might seem a bit trite, but one of the enduring images for me is Smyth tossing three pucks over the glass at the conclusion of warm-ups before every game. I watched for it every time, just to see the expressions on the faces of the children.
  • Joe Moss. Whether belting out the national anthem, dutifully folding towels and filling water bottles or lying his ass off with his morning greeting in the dressing room, “You look good,” Moss represents everything that is good and right about this franchise, win or lose.
  • Sparky Kulchisky, Barrie Stafford and Ken Lowe. The backbone of the equipment and training staff over the years, no matter how early you came to the rink or how late you left, they were there when you arrived and were still at work when you went home. There was always work to do and always a light on down the back hall.
  • Paul Lorieau. I’d give anything to hear Lorieau sing the national anthem in the old barn one more time and watch him thrust the microphone skyward so the crowd could join in. Away from the spotlight belting it out on the ice, Lorieau was a gracious man who always said hello whenever you ran into him around the rink.
  • Rod Phillips. The passion in his voice used to stir my blood and it still does. Nobody, and I mean nobody, has ever cared more about the organization and the people in it than The Voice. Rod’s call of Ales Hemsky’s goal from Sergei Samonsov against the Detroit Red Wings in the first round of 2006 still makes the hair on my neck stand up.
  • Ron Low. Reporters always got the best stuff taking a stroll down the hall behind the dressing room for a chat and a smoke. Low was a prince of a guy. As scout Tommy McVie once said, “If you can’t get along with Ron Low, you’re the asshole.” True that.

THE PLAYERS

  • Jason Smith. When the scrums had broken up and the room was empty, those he trusted could always get the pulse of what was really happening with the team from the captain. Smith, it seemed, was always in the dressing room late icing down something that he’d strained, sprained or broken. “Jason, you got a minute . . ?”
  • Doug Weight and Bill Guerin. They took such great joy in tormenting those toting notepads, recorders and cameras with one-liners and practical jokes and even greater joy in playing here. They were terrific Oilers and better people. They loved this town. This town loved them.
  • Janne Niinimaa. “Staffy, can you look at my skates/pads/gloves . . ?” Niinimaa, alone, ensured Kulchisky, Stafford and Lowe were never without work. I never saw a player as particular about his equipment, except maybe Dean McAmmond when it came to his skates.
  • Rem Murray. After the Gem caught me scanning the room for my next interview while still talking to him and not really paying attention to what he was saying, Murray made a habit of mimicking me, to a cascade of guffaws, after I moved on to other players. Never once took exception to it because he was funny as hell. What a beauty.
  • Boris Mironov. If you didn’t take time to swing by Mironov’s stall in the dressing room before the morning skate for a chat and a coffee, you were missing out on a chance to start the day on the right foot. Bobo never had a bad day, even hung over.

THE MOMENTS

  • Georges Laraque’s hat-trick against the Los Angeles Kings.
  • Sitting in a dressing room down the back hall with Grant Fuhr before his jersey retirement ceremony. While the over-under on when Fuhr would break down was set at about 30 seconds – you might remember he had tears running down his face as soon as he took off his mask out on the ice – he was emotional just getting dressed.
  • Wayne Gretzky taking time to say hello amid a crush of people just before he got on the bus after his final game here. Everybody wanted a piece of the Great One that night. My sister had flown out from Vancouver to see his last game here. She was wearing the same jersey he’d signed 15 years earlier. When Gretzky made his way over, he noticed the faded signature, and signed the crest again.
  • Shortly before I left The Journal for The Sun, Jones inadvertently (I think) knocked me about four feet sideways trying to get within earshot of Low in a post-game scrum inside the dressing room. Unhappy about it, I said, “Jonesy, you wanna f*cking go right now?” That went over really well on live radio.
  • Game 6 of the 2006 Stanley Cup final. Never before and never since have I heard a building that was so loud you not only heard the crowd, you felt it. It was a glorious assault on the senses. Unforgettable.
All in all, my time at Rexall Place was a wonderful stretch for a guy who came late to the party. I’m grateful for having experienced it.
Listen to Robin Brownlee Wednesdays and Thursdays from 3 p.m. to 5 p.m. on the Jason Gregor Show on TSN 1260.

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