Thoughts on Herb Brooks
Aug 12, 2003
INIMITABLE – Not capable of being imitated; matchless
If one word could aptly describe Herb Brooks it would be inimitable.
No question; he was one of a kind, after which the mold was disposed.
Brooks' death is mourned in this corner for a variety of reasons.
He was:
A. A good friend; B. The father of modern American hockey; C. The Godfather of the underdog; D. A maverick, in the best sense of the word; E. A champion.
And that’s just for starters.
Brooks’ creativity was a decade ahead of his time.
"Herbie was always thinking ahead," says Lou Vairo, who coached Uncle Sam’s Olympic team in 1984, following Herb’s Gold Medal Miracle of 1980.
His fertile mind enabled Brooks to turn hockey straw into gold.
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Significantly, the moment Brooks left the Rangers, Pavelich stopped being an ace.
Similarly, Brooks did virtually the same thing with goalie Jim Craig. Part of the Gold Medal equation in 1980, Craig never made it as a successful big league goalie thereafter.
As much as he was a motivator, so was Brooks, a maverick.
He constantly prodded the hockey Establishment to improve The Game.
"We’ve got the fastest, most beautiful game on earth," Brooks often told me, "but we don’t do enough to bring out its beauty."
Yet, almost singlehandedly Brooks introduced a European style of free-flowing offense to the NHL when he took over the Ranger coaching reigns in 1981.
I watched in amazement as Brooks’ Blue shirts delivered accurate goal line to center ice passes, the likes of which I had never seen before.
More than anyone, Herb proved that a smaller, skilled and speedy team could prevail against bigger skaters.
In both the 1982 and 1983 playoffs, Brooks’ stickhandlers consecutively routed Philadelphia’s Broad Street Bullies, 3-games-to-1 and 3-games-to-0, consecutively.
It was the time when Flyers coach Bob McCammon called Brooks’ boys a bunch of "Smurfs" in anticipation of his big guys trampling the smaller Blueshirts.
Brooks was behind the Blueshirts’ bench for one of hockey’s greatest playoffs, the 1984 division semifinal between the Rangers and Islanders.
After losing the opener, 4-1, at Nassau, Herb steered his underdog sextet to consecutive 3-0, 7-2 victories over the Isles.
However a shoulder injury to top Rangers’ defenseman Barry Beck crumbled the Rangers’ defense.
They lost Game Four, 4-1, at The Garden setting up the classic rubber game in Uniondale.
Trailing 3-2 late in the third, the Rangers rallied to tie -- sending the game into overtime. At least three times the Rangers appeared to have the winner only to be robbed by Billy Smith in goal.
Brooks' bubble burst when Ken Morrow --ironically a Herb star for U.S. in 1980 -- fired a screened shot past Glen Hanlon.
If anything bothered Brooks, it was an underachiever.
And if ever the Rangers had an underachiever on defense it was Beck, a potential All-Star.
Brooks prodded Beck every which way until the pair reached their respective breaking points during a practice.
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According to a New York Times Story, Brooks called Beck a "coward."
Neither Brooks nor Beck ever confirmed precisely what was said, but the story caused a rupture between Herb and Barry that never was healed.
"That episode was what caused (GM) Craig Patrick to fire Herb," says one insider I know.
Whatever the case, Beck was gone a year after Brooks left New York and never even came close to fulfilling his notices.
Twice thereafter, Herb could have returned to the Rangers as:
1 - General Manager;
2 - Coach.
In July 1989 the G.M.’s job was Herb’s when all he had to do was say "Yes."
He phoned me at my country home in the Catskills and to my amazement was uncertain about taking the job.
"I have some special ideas that they might not go for," he told me on the phone.
I told him that he was nuts and should take the job and not worry about being coach or whatever. But Herbie stalled and eventually lost out to Neil Smith.
Last spring the Rangers coaching job opened up. It could have been Herbie’s.
"He doesn’t want to travel that much," his wife told me. "Herb wants to be closer to his grandchildren."
I talked to Brooks about it and he clearly was torn between returning to Seventh Avenue or remaining closer to his Minnesota family.
In the end, family won over his professional leanings.
If you don’t mind my telling you, I shed a few tears, as did my wife Shirley, when we heard about Herb’s passing; because most of all, he was a friend.
This story sums it up.
It was between games during the 2002 Olympics at Salt Lake City when our phone rang at our country house. My son, Simon, was visiting from Israel. He picked up the phone and told me that Herb Brooks was on the line.
Herb Brooks calling in the midst of the Olympics? I thought it was a gag. My wife and I got on the extension. Immediately, we recognized Brooks’ voice.
"Herb," I said, "you’re playing Russia tomorrow in one of the biggest games of your life. What are you doing calling us?"
"I just wanted to talk to some friends," said Herbie.
Now you know why we wept.
Losing a pal, a hockey icon and an inimitable person is tough on the heart.
We’ll miss Herbie, terribly!
