Great Obscure Moments in Leafs History - Gary Leeman vs. Denis Savard

Great Obscure Moments in Leafs History - An ongoing series to honor the greatest, completely meaningless moments in Toronto Maple Leaf history.

All human beings agree that Wendel Clark vs Marty McSorley is pretty much the greatest thing that has ever happened, anywhere, ever. OK, maybe you could make an argument for the invention of the concept of justice. You'd be wrong, but you could make the case.

But here's a thought experiment: what would be the exact opposite of Clark vs. McSorley? What hockey moment would be so awful, so cringe-worthy, so embarrassing, that it would have the potential to cancel out the greatness of Clark/McSorley if viewed side-by-side?

Older Leaf fans don't have to wonder, because they saw it on December 23, 1989. That was the night that the Leafs and Hawks squared off in one of the most memorable line brawls of a generation. And the main event, such as it was, featured a pair of franchise players: Gary Leeman and Denis Savard.

Let's identify the participants in this ten-man rumble. For the Leafs we have Leeman (#11), Tom Kurvers (#25), Brian Curran (#28), Johnny McIntyre (#44) and Dave Reid (#14). For the Hawks, it's Savard (#11), Cam Russell (#52), Dave Manson (#3), Dirk Graham (#33), and a guy wearing #14 who I think might be future Flames coach current Marlies coach Greg Gilbert.

As far as background, let's just say that the Leafs and Hawks were both in the Norris division, which means they hated each other and wanted to fight. The Hawks and Leafs had several memorable brawls over the years (like this one, and of course this one).

But this particular incident was different. What makes this among the most entertaining five minutes on all of Youtube? Let's walk through it in excruciatingly obsessive detail and find out!

Camouflage Coat Guy
Right off the bat, we get a classic Maple Leafs Garden moment: a fan blocking the camera. And not just any guy, but a guy who appears to have worn a camouflage coat to a hockey game. And also seems to be nine feet tall.

This forces the CBC to switch to the overhead camera view, which somehow always made whatever came next seem ten times more awesome.

Bob Cole
Right as things start to heat up, Bob Cole displays his excellent sense of timing by encouraging viewers to "listen to this!" and then going silent, just as the Hawks players start lobbing obscenities at Leeman.

And by the way, how is it possible that all the Hawks players are trash-talking Leeman and yet Al Iafrate's name never comes up?

The sucker punch
With Andy Van Hellemond yelling to "open the door up", Savard breaks away and lands a viscous sucker punch on Leeman, then scurries away like a rat. The only Leaf who sees it is under-rated tough guy Curran, who goes berserk. But he can't get at Savard, because he's being held back by...

Cam Russell
And since it's Cam Russell, and since it's the Leafs, Russell immediately winds up flat on his back. (Just like here and here and especially here.)

If there was a stat for most times getting destroyed by a Maple Leaf, Russell would be the Phil Mickelson to Jim Cummins' Tiger Woods.

Savard's "Hold Me Back" routine
I called Stu Grimson's performance against Wendel Clark "the all-time greatest 'hold me back while I pretend to want to fight' routine", but I think we may need a recount.

Savard pretends to desperately want to fight, right up until the linesmen call his bluff and simply skate away. We then get a full 75 seconds of Savard backing away from Leeman.

So how do you fill over a minute of dead air? With a big dose of...

Harry Neale
Neale is probably best known for his pre-prepared soundbites; if you like your color commentators to suddenly quote Edgar Allan Poe during an icing call, Harry is your guy. But here he shows that he's pretty good when going off-script too.

While Leeman and Savard stumble around, Neale starts firing off rapid one-liners like "This is the longest shadow-boxing match I've ever seen" and "If looks could kill they'd both be on their backs" and "They've been skating more on this shift than they have when the game was on".

But then he tops himself with this instant classic: "I've seen more hits when I take my kids to the petting zoo!"

What does that even mean? Who's getting hit when Harry Neale takes his kids to the petting zoo? Do his kids hit the animals? Does Harry hit his kids? What's he trying to tell us here?

Alain Chevrier
Chevrier is the Hawks goalie. And do you know what he does during this long line brawl, which features multiple sucker punches, mismatches and two-on-one situations? Nothing. Nothing! In fact, he does less than nothing. He never comes remotely close to getting involved.

I will never forgive him for that. Because do you know who was in net for the Leafs that night? Allan Bester. How great would it have been to see Allan Bester skate the length of the ice to join a brawl? Tell me that wouldn't have been an instant top-five highlight of the decade for Leaf fans.

And besides, if Felix Potvin could wipe the floor with Ron Hextall, I'm pretty sure Allan Bester could take Alain Chevrier.

"Durno"
In the middle of Leeman and Savard's dance of futility, the camera pans by a young hockey fan wearing a #8 Leafs jersey that reads "Durno". This begs two questions: how bad were the camera angles in Maple Leaf Gardens that a small child could block them, and what the heck is a "Durno"? Stay with me, I'm going somewhere with this.

Since nobody by that name ever played for the Leafs, I'm going to assume it's the kid's name. A few minutes of google research reveals a journeyman minor leaguer named Chris Durno, who at the age of 28 finally made his NHL debut this year by playing two games for the Avalanche. Chris Durno grew up in Scarborough, would have been nine years old when this game was played, and according to this interview he always wore #8 when he was growing up.

You know what? I'm going to go ahead and make the claim that that's future NHLer Chris Durno blocking the camera in the middle of this fight!

(Update: DGB commenter and Durno family friend "JDub" confirms that it is Chris Durno!)

And based on that, I'm establishing the Chris Durno Fan Club, and demanding that Brian Burke sign Chris Durno to play for the Marlies next year. Burke already knows Durno, having once acquired him when he was with the Ducks. And the Hockey News says Durno brings "plenty of physical toughness and intimidation". Just what we need in Toronto!

Who's with me? We want Durno! We want Durno!

No? Just me? OK, moving on...

Dave Manson
Manson had already been escorted off the ice earlier in the brawl, but he makes a dramatic return just in time to execute a sunset flip onto Leeman and Savard, wiping out linesman Ron Finn in the process.

That earned him the ultra-rare triple game misconduct on a single play: one for coming back onto the ice, one for abuse of officials, and one for being third man in. This inspired Paul Morris's infamous announcement of "Number three, Dave Manson, two minutes for instigating, five minutes for fighting, a game misconduct, a second game misconduct, a third game misconduct".

Paul Morris dones't care how many penalties you got, he's announcing them one at a time even if we all have to stay here all night.

Bob Cole again
"Uh oh. UH OH! Baby... this thing... has come apart... at the seams!"

I love Bob Cole.

Doug Carpenter
Carpenter doesn't actually do anything. I just like seeing him. Where does Carpenter rank on the list of great red-headed coaches in NHL history? I'm going to say behind Terry Crisp, but ahead of Dave Allison.

Wendel Clark almost coming off the bench
When Manson blindsides Leeman, Clark jumps off the bench before being grabbed by a teammate. If Clark had entered the fight, he would have been suspended for ten games, touched off a bench-clearing brawl, beaten Dave Manson to death with his bare hands, and then beaten Cam Russell to death with the corpse of Dave Manson.

But none of that happened, because Clark is grabbed from behind at the last moment by...

John Kordic
Think about that. John Kordic prevented a bench-clearing brawl.

Here's a rule of thumb: when you're relying on John Kordic to serve as a calming influence, you're dealing with a situation that is completely out of control. It may be time to call in the army. Or, failing that, hope that a jolly mythical character inexplicably makes an appearance.

Hey look, it's Santa Claus!
With the situation on the verge of complete implosion, the officials desperately try to usher the Blackhawks off the ice. What better time for Santa Claus to randomly make an appearance?

Seriously, what is happening here? When did David Lynch start directing NHL games? And why does "Santa" weigh about 140 pounds?

"I don't think Santa Claus has seen anything like this in a while," deadpans Cole. No, Bob, I suppose he hasn't.

The epilogue
Dave Manson was suspended for 13 games. More impressively, Savard managed to pick up two fighting majors on the same play even though he never fought anybody. As a side note, these were the first two fighting majors of Savard's career. He would later add two more, against Craig Janney and Dale Hawerchuk. Apparently, Denis Savard really hates marginally over-rated wimpy guys.

There were a total of eight fights in this game, including John Kordic delivering some payback by absolutely destroying Cam Russell in the second period. A young Damien Cox was so traumatized that all his hair fell out.

Leeman went on to score 50 goals this season, was traded for Doug Gilmour, and was never heard from again. Manson actually played for the Leafs for one year in 2000, although sadly he never tried to hurdle another linesman.

Chris Durno signed with the Leafs in the 2009 off-season, made the team out of training camp, scored the Stanley Cup winning goal during the Leafs' shocking playoff run, and dedicated the championship to this blog.

10 Things I Miss About Maple Leaf Gardens

Last Friday marked the 10th anniversary of the last game at Maple Leaf Gardens. This weekend, the Leafs will hold a ceremony marking the anniversary of the first game ever played at the ACC.

Now I don't want to be one of those guys who hates everything that's new and improved and spends all his time pathetically wishing for the good old days. So I'll just say that the ACC is a corporate mausoleum where the real fans are almost entirely locked out by high ticket prices, empty suits close business deals while stuffing overpriced sushi into their soulless corporate faces, and Toronto's reputation as a hockey city goes to die a slow and lonely death.

Other than that, it's great.

But this post isn't about the ACC. It's about Maple Leaf Gardens.

I didn't get to spend a lot of time at the Gardens as a kid. My dad would try to get the company tickets once or twice a year, usually as a Christmas gift. I probably made it out to maybe 20 or 30 games there in my life.

But I miss the place. I miss everything about it.

So at the risk of being a cranky old man, here are ten things I miss about the Gardens. Not ten players or ten moments -- there are others who could do those subjects more justice than I ever could. No, this is just ten obscure things that made the place great.

10 - The escalator

If you had seats in the greens or greys, you needed to take the escalator to get to your seats. That could a challenge since the Gardens escalators were about 18 inches wide, and were apparently operated by two skinny guys in the basement slowly cranking a giant stone wheel.

If you were a little kid, you'd be bounced and jostled around by the grownups until you emerged at the top, then squeeze your way through the crowd until you found an opening. And then you'd catch your first glimpse of the scoreboard, the crowd, the ice. And you realized you, wow, were actually at Maple Leaf Gardens.

9 - Whatever that was on the roof

If you ever sat in the last few rows at the Gardens, you got a good look at the roof since it somehow blocked your view of the ice even though that should be architecturally impossible. And you wondered: what the hell is that strange, off-white foamy substance covering everything?

Does anybody know? Was it some sort of ancient fire protection? Or was it some sort of organic substance that just grew out of control, like mold in a forgotten cupboard? I had a friend who climbed up to touch it once. Is it safe to assume he died a horrible death shortly after?

8 - Banana Joe

"Banana" Joe Lamantia was the crusty old penalty timekeeper at the Gardens. Back in the 80s, fights that started on the ice would occasionally spill into the penalty box as players shouted, threatened, and threw water bottles at each other. Banana Joe could always be found in the middle of the action.

During one game in the 80s, he was hit in the head with a puck. Not one to miss a day of work, he spent the next several games wearing a helmet. There was just something about the Gardens -- even the timekeepers were tough.

7 - The shot clocks

The shot clocks at the Gardens were located at either end, behind the nets above the gold seating. If you had the right seats in the Blue section, you could rest your drink on top of them. And of course, in between was a long stretch where a narrow ad could fit.

To this day, I can't see a Yellow Pages logo without thinking "Man, I can't believe the Leafs had 60 shots against Cujo in game one".

6 - The Mickey Mouse hands

Here's what I know about the Gardens scoreboard: it was about 16x16 resolution, had four colors, and was presumably run off of a borrowed Vic 20. It had a few pixels that were always on, even if the scoreboard was supposed to black. And it had maybe four animations that it would cycle through all game long.

My favorite was the clapping hands. Whenever the scoreboard operator wanted noise, he'd fire up his trusty animation of two white-gloved hands banging semi-rhythmically together. Picture Mickey Mouse half-heartedly trying to kill a fruit fly and you'll have the general idea. This was somebody's idea of firing up a crowd.

Did it work? Of course it did. We were Leaf fans in the 80s, it didn't take much to impress us.

5 - The Nachos

Let's get this out of the way first: the nachos at sporting events today suck. They do. Just stale chips piled into a plastic cup with a baggy of lukewarm cheese goo. If you like them, there's something wrong with you and I don't really want you reading this blog anymore.

But the Gardens... the Gardens had real sports nachos. (And yes, "sports nachos" in an official culinary category, separate from real nachos.) Sure, the chips were still stale, but there wasn't any lukewarm cheese goo. No, the Gardens had boiling hot cheese goo. And they didn't drizzle it into some fancy side pocket -- they dumped it over the chips with a ladle until you begged them to stop.

And Gardens nachos weren't served in a plastic container. They were served in a flimsy cardboard box that had holes in each side, so the lava-hot cheese goo could drip onto your hands and leave you with third-degree napalm burns.

And you weren't done yet. Have you ever asked for salsa on your nachos at a sporting event these days? The kid behind the counter probably tripped a secret alarm to alert the manager. But at the Gardens, you could have as much salsa (or jalapenos!) as you wanted. It was all right there in a little serve-yourself bowl next to the concession stand. Sure, some drunk had probably spilled half a beer in there by the time you arrived. That made it better!

By the time you got back to your seat, you had a leaky box full of soggy chips that had melted and then congealed together, a potent salsa/cheese goo mix, a pile of jalapenos that you'd regret for the rest of the night, and at least one hand that would need an emergency skin graft after the game.

Good god, I'm hungry right now.

4 - The ushers

Yes, I'm sure the ACC has ushers -- or, as they're probably known now, "seating area customer service representatives".

But the Gardens had real ushers: old men in uniforms who would take your ticket stub, wave in the general direction of your seat, and go back to watching the warmup. After all, most of them were retired guys who'd taken the job so that they could watch the Leafs for free. They were probably the biggest Leaf fans in the building.

Anyone remember the one guy who would run down just as the camera focused on the crowd whenever the Leafs scored a big goal, pumping his fist and slamming his hands together with joy? Sure, he probably trampled a few kids on his way down the aisle after an overtime winner. That's what they get for being in the trolley tracks.

3 - "And now, Jimmy Holmstrom at the organ."

There's no room for organists in today's NHL. No, that would mean interrupting the steady stream of sponsor messages and hot dog cannons and screeching rinkside hostesses and early 90s techno that blares through every second of downtime.

The Gardens didn't have that. It had Jimmy Holmstrom at the organ.

Back before their was such a thing as a mashup, Jimmy Holmstrom would play a version of Van Halen's "Jump" combined with Deep Purple's "Smoke On The Water" as the teams circled the ice before the opening faceoff. I was too young to even know those were real songs, so I assumed he had made the whole thing up on his own. I think the first time I heard "Smoke On The Water" at a party years later, I thought it was some rock band covering Jimmy Holmstrom. In fact, I probably said that out loud to try to impress a girl, then spent the rest of the night playing NHL92 in a corner.

My point is this: I would trade the entire contents of my ipod for an mp3 of Holmstrom's Jump/Smoke medley right now.

2 - Camera shakes

Because the Gardens was built in the 30s, it hadn't been designed with the needs of a TV crew in mind. And since Harold Ballard was a cheap SOB who wasn't going to spend a penny more than he needed to just to make fans happy, the Gardens was always a bit of a challenge for broadcasters. There wasn't a good spot for the TV cameras, so they wedged them in wherever they could find enough room.

Occasionally, when the Leafs scored a big goal or there was a fight or Wendel Clark looked at somebody sideways, Leaf fans would rise to their feet and block the camera. If they stayed on their feet, the broadcast would have to switch to the upper-deck camera (which is why the endings of so many Leaf playoff games seem to have been shot from a helicopter).

And if something happened that was so exciting that fans literally jumped out of their seats, well, whoever was sitting directly under the camera stand would wind up with a concussion, and viewers would see the camera shake and zig zag all over until the cameraman could get it under control again.

Check out Gilmour's OT goal against the Blues for a famous example of the classic Gardens shaky cam.

1 - Paul Morris

With apologies to Bob Cole and Joe Bowen, long-time Leafs PA announcer Paul Morris was the voice of Maple Leaf Gardens. His distinctive nasally voice was a Gardens trademark.

Two things you need to know about Paul Morris:

1. He didn't take shortcuts. When it came to announcing penalties, Morris announced everything. There was none of this "double minor" or "five minutes each for fighting". No, Morris announced each individual penalty, line by line. If that meant that he had to talk for 20 straight minutes after a bench clearing brawl, then that's what he did.

2. He never raised his voice. Ever. It didn't matter if it was the first period of a pre-season game or the dying moments of a game seven, Paul Morris had his monotone and he stuck with it. It was his trademark, so much so that every Leaf fan during the 80s and 90s has done an impression of Morris dispassionately announcing a Wendel Clark Stanley Cup winning goal. Yes, every single one of us.

Even through the 90s, as other PA announcers worked to outdo each other with hyperbole and gimmicks, Paul Morris was a true professional. The Leafs still have him do spot duty from time-to-time. If they ever make it to a Cup final, I hope they let him work the final game.

So that's my list. I know I've left plenty of great memories out. The blue and white silhouetted players at the College Station subway stop... watching Coach's Corner in the concourse with 100 other fans... Harold Ballard posting pro-Ticat, anti-Argo messages on the scoreboard during intermission...

I miss the place. We'll never see another building like it.