Marc Dumont
Legendary Montreal Canadiens goaltender Ken Dryden spent just eight seasons in the NHL, but it was enough to immortalize him as one of the most dominant athletes in league history.
Fittingly, his first Stanley Cup win took place in 1970-71, coinciding with Jean Béliveau’s final season in the NHL.
Béliveau did not just represent the best of the Canadiens, he was the prototype for class in athletics, combining his penchant for winning with an unwavering commitment to giving every single hockey fan as much of his precious time as possible, as evidenced by the thousands of handwritten letters to fans he dispatched throughout his illustrious career, and well beyond.
ON TOPIC: Canadiens Legend Ken Dryden Passes Away At The Age of 78
There will never be another like Le Gros Bill, but if we had to designate an heir apparent to carry the torch, the only option would have been Dryden.
To tell you the truth, I was a little too young to appreciate Dryden’s impact, both on and off the ice.
By the time I was old enough to formally be accepted into the Church of Maurice Richard, it was Mats Naslund who was the focus of my admiration. In a league overflowing with violence, Naslund managed to dazzle with speed and talent, a throwback to the Habs dynasties that dominated the hockey landscape for the better part of five decades.
But the player who cemented my eternal love for the game happened to be a goalie named Patrik Roy.
Like most young French Canadians at the time, I wanted to be the starting goaltender for the Montreal Canadiens, an impossible dream that was meant to continue the legacy put in place by legendary netminders such as George Vezina, George Hainsworth, Bill Durnan, Jacques Plante, Gump Worsley, and, of course, Dryden.
And yet, any time the local kids got together to play road hockey during the summer, which was every single day, I wasn’t pretending to be Roy.
For those of you who missed out on the glory years of playing road hockey in Canada, an era in which we prioritized children having fun, rather than obsessing over car culture, the game started the same way every day.
Sticks in the middle.
Call your player.
Play hockey for as long as humanly possible, which usually involved someone’s parents dragging us away from the daily games after giving us half a dozen warnings that the sun was coming down.
I wanted to be Ken Dryden, going as far as modifying my equipment to emulate his famous pose, because I simply was not tall enough to do it without having to chop a few inches off all my goaltending sticks.
This led to yelling the name “DRYDEN!” as soon as the teams were established, to ensure no one else could steal my preferred nom de plume hockey, not to mention a bevy of pride any time I managed to save shots from the various other names that were claimed, which usually included Wayne Gretzky, Mario Lemieux, or even Adam Oates if the youngster in question was a great passer.
Things were a little different back then.
There was no internet, and word of mouth was one of the most common methods of sharing knowledge about the heros that made The Forum hockey’s ultimate arena.
My first introduction to Dryden was via my father, a long-suffering Chicago Blackhawks fan who suggested Dryden was overrated because he played with a laundry-list of Hall of Fame players, a surprisingly common perception at the time. Deep down, he knew Dryden was worthy of praise, but like many before him, Montreal’s dominance, combined with Chicago’s lack of success, led to envy, not to mention endless frustration.
For a time, there were only two groups in hockey fandom in Canada.
Canadiens fans, and those who parroted the ABC mantra, “Anyone But the Canadiens.”
And while you would hear complaints from fans of opposing teams as to the character of certain Canadiens players, there were two players who were considered too pure to be the target of the contrived criticism.
The first was Jean Béliveau, and the second was none other than Ken Dryden.
It spoke to Dryden’s affable character, not to mention his cerebral approach, and passion for creating a better tomorrow.
Dryden never punched down, the mark of a true gentleman.
He also never shied away from tackling difficult subjects, as evidence by his quest to shine a light on CTE issues in professional hockey. If you’re yet to read The Game, you should take the rest of the day off and start your fantastic hockey journey through Dryden’s memories. But he was equally proud of his lesser known book, Game Change, which opened our eyes to some of the unfortunate brain injuries tied to professional sports, as well as the importance of ensuring the healthy future of hockey.
As we mourn his passing, the best way we can honour his legacy is to tackle the new realities of sports, as well as the significant shifts that are taking place outside the sports landscape, with the same dedication, intellectualism, courage, and foresight that made Ken Dryden not only one of the most important members of the Montreal Canadiens, but one of the best Canadians, full stop.
