I knew Ken Dryden, but not very well. I’ve been a little bit surprised by how the news of his death has affected me. As I said to someone on Facebook recently, we (I) am now at an age where the heroes of our youth are passing away. It’s a sad reminder of how quickly life goes.

Ken became (and remained) good friends with my NHL publishing boss Dan Diamond during Ken’s time as president of the Toronto Maple Leafs from 1997 to 2004. We at Dan Diamond and Associates did a lot of work with Ken when the Maple Leafs were moving from the Gardens to the Air Canada Centre. Dan also worked with Ken during his political career and we were all at the event at Ken’s old elementary school in 2006 when Ken announced he was running for the Liberal leadership.

I met Ken a handful of times over the years, when he would attend parties Dan held either at home or for the office. In more recent years, I would sometimes call or email him if I wanted advice or an opinion for something I was working on. He was usually quite accommodating. The last time he and I talked was in early May. His voice sounded raspy, and he said he hadn’t been well, but he gave no indication of anything worse than that. Ken had called me about my interest in something an old friend had come to him with. I was a little surprised it wasn’t something he wanted to get involved with himself … but, I guess, we now know why.

When Ken called in May, I took the opportunity to ask him something for a book I’m working on that I hadn’t previously because (more big name drops!) I had already been in touch with Scotty Bowman and Dick Irvin about it. My question was, did he remember anyone referring to the line of Guy Lafleur, Steve Shutt and either Pete Mahovlich or Jacques Lemaire as The Dynasty Line during the Canadiens’ 1970s Stanley Cup Dynasty. Like Bowman and Irvin, Ken had never heard that term. Ken said something along the lines of “it would have been silly to call them that then.” Then I quoted him something from an Al Strachan article in the Montreal Gazette from the 1975–76 season. Pierre Bouchard had apparently dubbed the line of Lafleur, Shutt and Mahovlich The Donut Line as a shot at Mahovlich, “because the line had no center.” Shutt responded by saying Mahovlich called them The Helicopter Line “because they had no wings.” Ken laughed and said, “that sounds like Shutty!”

Ken was always very approachable and I remember at our office Christmas party in 2002 mentioning that I had recently watched the DVD of all the games of the 1972 Canada-Russia series, which had come out around then. He told me he’d never seen it and that he didn’t like to watch any old footage of his games, which I’ve read again recently in various memories of him. (I do believe he finally re-watched the 1972 games for his 2022 book on the 50th anniversary of the series.) He was pleased when I told him the intensity and skill displayed in the series still held up, and then I screwed up my courage to ask him something I’d long wondered about. How come he, and some of the other players, who had spent time with the Canadian National Team hadn’t been able to convince their Team Canada teammates how good the Soviets really were? Ken said something along the lines of, “I just thought NHL players were that much better.”

One thing I never had the guts to tell Ken was how much I didn’t like him when I was a boy! In truth, I did like him at first. Like most people, I became aware of him during the 1971 playoffs when — though not yet even officially considered an NHL rookie — he led the Canadiens to that huge upset of the Bruins and then all the way to a Stanley Cup championship. Of course, I was seven years old at the time, and I can’t really say anymore how much I actually remember versus how much I now know. And, of course, there was his role in the 1972 series. But by the time I was 12 years old, the Leafs had Darryl Sittler, Lanny McDonald, Borje Salming et al and I was hooked on my hometown team.

I was barely 13 when Mike Palmateer became the Leafs goalie, and I was way more into him that I was into Ken Dryden! The two playoff losses to the Canadiens in 1978 and 1979 didn’t help … but, I’m sure, had I told Ken that young me had hated him, he wouldn’t mind. He was a sports fan above all and would have understood childhood loyalty. After all, he had that quote about the best era of the game being “whenever you were 12 years old.” (Though you sometimes see the age recorded as young as 10 or 11.)

I’ll conclude this with an email/phone conversation I had with Ken back in 2010. This was regarding some early work that would lead towards my Stanley Cup books for Firefly in 2013 and 2018. I’ll begin with an except from my email to him, and then my notes based on our phone conversation.

Dear Ken,

The best of the season to you and Lynda and your family. I hope you are all well … and that you will have a few minutes to spare over the holidays to think about this question I have for you…

When I first started pitching [my Stanley Cup history book] to a few publishers, I got a lot of responses along the lines of “this is a great book that somebody should do” but no commitment to take it on, or, worse yet, “hockey fans don’t like history, and history buffs don’t like sports.” Well, as one hockey fan who loves the history of both the game and his country, I think they’re wrong!

Though I’m honestly not sure how I’d fit it into the narrative as I’d like to do it, I have been asked to consider adding some sort of “what my Stanley Cup win meant to me” angle … and so I am wondering what sort of connection, if any, the players I grew up watching or the ones playing now have to the history of the Stanley Cup.

When you won, either for the first time in 1971, or as part of the “dynasty” later in the decade, or when you first saw your name engraved on the trophy, did you personally feel any kind of connection to the history of the game? Or, if not at the time, do you look back on your Stanley Cup wins now as something that will forever make you a part of hockey history? Do you think other players have felt this? Is this an angle at all worth pursuing in a book about the early history of the Stanley Cup?

A response by email is certainly sufficient, but if this is something you’d be at all interested in talking about in any more depth, please feel free to call me at home.

Thanks, Eric

Notes from Ken’s phone call:

Unreal feeling joining the Canadiens … like, “if this is the real Canadiens, why am I here?”

Even more of a disconnect in the playoffs. “If this is the real Stanley Cup … Conn Smythe Trophy … then why am I winning it?”

Being in the NHL didn’t really hit him until coming home after game seven in the first round against Boston and there were big crowds at the airport.

Didn’t feel a connection to history when they won. He never felt there was a quiet moment where you took a deep breath and thought, “this is what the Rocket did.”

Parades helped to make it feel real.

How each team got there was what really mattered, and the harder the journey the more rewarding.

Best was in 1976. “The quest.” He felt that he, and probably everyone, starting preparing for that as soon as they were eliminated from the playoffs in 1975. Thought about it all summer. Played Philly tough in the preseason (see Denault book), set the tone in regular-season games. “Felt like a full-season quest.”

As to history, Ken only had a very general awareness of the challenge history … and thought the NHL took over the Stanley Cup right way in 1918. Feels the seeds of the modern sport (all modern NA sport) where sowed in the 1920s. Probably due to radio. Created first media stars (Babe Ruth, Red Grange, Bobby Jones et al.)

Not sure any player feels the connection to history. Thinks modern players have been programmed to give the answer you’d want to hear (“I thought about my heroes when I lifted the Cup…” but he doesn’t believe they really do). You’d really have to dig to get a thoughtful answer about what they really felt.

These days, whenever I post a story on my web site, I feel like it might be the last one I ever do. Like, I’m all out of ideas and this is it. It’s been a long time since I’ve actively searched out subjects for these stories … but, then, something always comes up. Usually it’s a current event that reminds me of something historic. Sometimes it’s something in my own life. Whatever it is, an idea for a story will suddenly seize me. Then, I go down too many rabbit holes trying to put it all together before reining it in. And then, a post. Like today’s.

Lynn and I recently had a short getaway in Paris. (Not THAT Paris — although, as some of you will remember, we were in France in May of 2024 and it was lovely.) This was Paris, Ontario, and until we arrived and I saw a sign for the Syl Apps Community Centre, I’d forgotten the long ago captain of the Toronto Maple Leafs who was voted the second greatest player in franchise history for the team’s centennial in 2017 was from there.

Charles Joseph Sylvanus Apps was born in Paris on January 18, 1915. After being named the NHL’s rookie of the year for the 1936–37 season, his hometown honoured him on the night of June 11, 1937, as part of a three-day Lions Club Carnival. That season, NHL president Frank Calder was encouraged by Toronto Star sports editor Andy Lytle and Maple Leafs owner-manager Conn Smythe to donate a trophy for the winner of the annual (since 1933) Canadian Press sportswriters poll selecting the league’s top rookie. Perhaps this was because the Leafs boasted rookie stars Apps, Gord Drillon and Turk Broda that season!

As the story goes, Frank Calder was en route from Montreal to Paris by train with his trophy when he realized something. Unlike the NHL’s other individual awards — at the time, there was just the Hart for MVP, the Lady Byng for sportsmanship, and the Vezina for the best goalie — a player named the NHL’s best rookie could never win that award again. So, the league boss decided he would give Syl Apps the Calder Trophy to keep. Every year after that until his death in 1943, Calder bought a new trophy and presented it to the NHL’s top rookie. Official approval for the permanent Calder Memorial Trophy was given by the league governors at an NHL meeting in Montreal on September 7, 1945.

Apps received the first Calder Trophy at a star-studded gala held at the Paris Arena. Unknown to me when Lynn and I visited, the Paris Arena was originally built in 1921–22 … and is still housed within the Syl Apps Community Centre! It now boasts a much more modern brick exterior, and there’s no longer a hockey rink inside, but the old arena space is used for indoor soccer and still features the same wooden beams and ceiling/roof from the early days. From behind, the modern community centre still looks looks like an old-time auditorium.

Syl Apps played 10 years with the Toronto Maple Leafs from his rookie season of 1936–37 through 1947–48, missing two years due to military service in World War II. He was named captain in 1940 and led the Leafs to Stanley Cup victories in 1942, 1947 and 1948. At 6 feet tall and 185 pounds, he was big and handsome and played a stylish game. (For those old enough to remember, think Jean Béliveau.) Apps is one of few Maple Leafs of whom it can honestly be said he was among the very best players in the NHL in his day. He never won the Hart Trophy as MVP, but in his first seven seasons before the War, Apps was second in voting three times and third in voting twice.

Apps likely started playing hockey as a young boy. He played midget hockey in Paris as a 14-year-old during the winter of 1928–29 and was a member of the local Ontario Hockey Association junior team in 1930–31 when he turned 16. There were reports in the spring of 1932 that after high school Apps would attend Western in London, but that fall he left Paris for Hamilton to attend McMaster University. He would play hockey there, as well as football, and though he’d apparently played little of that sport in Paris (he did play basketball in high school), Apps became quite the star on the gridiron. He was also on the McMaster track team, where he competed in the pole vault which he’d taken up in high school at least as early as 1928. He also competed in the long jump and the high jump as a student in Paris, and while still in high school he placed second in the junior division in a pole vaulting competition in Hamilton in conjunction with the first British Empire Games (now the Commonwealth Games) in 1930. Four years later, Apps wasn’t just the best pole vaulter in Canada but won the gold medal on August 6, 1934, at the second British Empire Games in London, England.

While in his final year at McMaster, Apps joined the Hamilton Tigers hockey team for the 1935–36 season. He led them to the OHA senior champion and was the top scorer in the province. At the end of April, Apps traveled to Los Angeles for hockey (and lacrosse) games with a Canadian Legion team from Hamilton, although he and teammate Norval Williamson flew home early to complete their final university exams.

By the spring of 1936, it was well known that several NHL teams wanted Syl Apps and the Maple Leafs had put him on their negotiation list. Still, he had no interest in turning pro before taking his shot at the 1936 Summer Olympics in Berlin. (There had been stories he was being considered as an addition to the Canadian Olympic Hockey team earlier in 1936, but he hadn’t wanted to interrupt his studies.) In July, Apps won the Ontario championship in the pole vault with a jump of 12 feet, 11 inches. Barely a week later at the Canadian Olympic trials in Montreal, he jumped 13 feet and a half inch to win that competition. A few days later, Apps was on board the Duchess of Bedford with the rest of the Canadian Olympic team sailing for France before a train ride to Berlin.

Canadian papers noted Apps would likely need to improve his height by at least a foot to earn a medal in the pole vault in Berlin. On July 4, 1936, American George Varoff had set a new world’s record of 4.43 meters (14 feet, 6 1/2 inches) … although a few days later he slumped to fourth place at the American Olympic trials and didn’t even make the U.S. team. In the Olympic final on August 6, 1936, another American, Earle Meadows, won gold with a jump of 4.35 meters (14 feet, 3 1/4 inches). Apps did improve his performance by nearly a foot, clearing an even 4 meters (14 feet, 1/8 inches) but that was only good enough to tie for sixth place. (In reading about Apps over the years, I’d always assumed it was a two-way tie for sixth place, but he was actually one of 11 men tied at 4 meters.)

On August 25, 1936, Syl Apps arrived back in Canada aboard the Duchess of Richmond with about one-third of the Canadian Olympic team. He said he’d made up his mind not to try out for the Hamilton Tigers football team that fall and there were also reports he’d turned down offers from several hockey teams in London, England while he was in Europe. Football in Canada and hockey in England were strictly amateur at the time, yet Apps still hadn’t decided whether to go pro with the Maple Leafs. He made up his mind soon enough, signing a contract on September 2, 1936.

“In our circle,” Apps would tell Stan Fischler for his book Those Were The Days (1976), “professional athletes were not looked upon as the right sort. But economic conditions were poor at the time and jobs were scarce. Molly [girlfriend Molly Marshall] told me the chance with the Leafs was a golden opportunity. I decided to sign although I was scared when I went to see Mr. Smythe.”

He would have to give up his amateur athletic pursuits, but “Sylvanus Apps loves hockey above all other games,” reported Andy Lytle in The Toronto Daily Star on October 28, 1936, a few days before the start of his rookie season.

The decision worked out pretty well.

The NHL used to play games on Christmas Day until the 1972–73 season. Over the years, from the first Christmas game on December 25, 1919, through the last games in 1971, there were a total of 125 games played on Christmas Day. I wrote about that 1919 game 10 years ago, but I didn’t realize until recently that NHL records showed the game to have been played on December 24. Stuart McComish, Senior Manager, Statistics and Research, for the NHL and I went over this last month.

Though it does appear the original newspaper stories about the 1919–20 schedule showed the first two games being played on December 24, 1919, the actual schedule had Toronto at Ottawa on December 23 and Montreal at Quebec on December 25. (The Canadiens won, 12–5). If you go looking for stories (other than mine!) about the first NHL game on Christmas Day, you’re likely to find the Toronto St. Patricks at the Montreal Canadiens on December 25, 1920 (Toronto 5, Montreal 4) … but the NHL has now updated their records. Here’s an ad for that 1919 Christmas game from The Quebec Chronicle, on Wednesday, December 24:

There were six NHL games on Christmas Day in 1971. The final game that night — the last NHL game ever played on Christmas — was a West Coast affair with the Los Angeles Kings hosting the California Golden Seals. The Seals won 3–1.

An earlier game that night in Toronto — Maple Leafs 5, Red Wings 3 — holds some significance in my family since it was the first game my brother David (a Christmas baby!) ever attended, with our father on his sixth birthday. (There’s no actual date in this image from The Toronto Star, so you’ll have to trust me that it’s from December 24, 1971.) I remember watching the Miami Dolphins beat the Kansas City Chiefs 27–24 in the longest overtime playoff game in NFL history earlier that evening, and then switching to the Leafs game on Hockey Night in Canada. I was looking for David and my Dad in the stands, but I never saw them…

And, well, because I’m Jewish, we’ll conclude with this. It’s not easy to find stories combining hockey and Hanukkah, so this, from The Toronto Star on December 20, 1973, is the best I could do!

No matter what holiday you celebrate at this time of year, I hope you have a happy one. And all the best to everybody for a happy and healthy — and peaceful — new year in 2025.

Hi Everyone. It’s been about a month since I posted a story. I don’t usually like to let longer than that go by, so here’s something new today. To be honest, it’s not much more than some self-promotion (with a good word for a few friends too). But, hey, whaddya want for nothing?!?

I have two new books out as we head into the holiday season. Amazing Hockey Trivia for Kids is the sixth in a series for Scholastic Canada. If you’ve got a child on your shopping list, ages 8 to 12 or so (older people say they like them too), these books have been very popular. Hockey Hall of Fame True Stories 2 is a sequel to Hockey Hall of Fame True Stories. (I wanted to call it True Stories Too). I had a lot of success with the first book in 2022, and I have high hopes — if somewhat nervously! — for this one.

I’ve also received or purchased a handful of other new hockey books for 2024. There’s Ian Kennedy’s Ice In Their Veins, which is a history of women’s hockey. (Ian covers women’s hockey for The Hockey News.) I haven’t read it yet, but the online reviews I’ve seen are excellent. There’s also Turk, a biography of Gerard Gallant. Admittedly, it’s not the type of hockey book I’d normally read, but a colleague who works for the publisher was gracious enough to send me a copy, so I’ll get to it.

Another book on my “get to it” list is Jack and the Box by Kevin Shea. Kevin’s books are always well-researched and well-written, and I know this story was very personal to him. I’m sure it will be excellent.

One new book I have read is Ronnie Shuker’s The Country and the Game. Highly recommended! Though there’s plenty of hockey in it, it’s not your typical hockey book. It’s a travelogue of his hockey adventures across Canada from coast to coast to coast and is filled with fascinating stories and interesting people. Ronnie is an author, editor, freelance writer, and an editor at large for The Hockey News. He did copy editing on both Hall of Fame True Stories books … but that’s not the reason I’m saying he’s an excellent writer!

As for Hockey Hall of Fame True Stories 2, it once again indulges my personal interest in stories from hockey’s past … and hopefully tells them more truthfully and accurately than they’ve usually been told before. There’s a chapter on the NHL trophies; on the early days of the Stanley Cup; on the rules that helped make modern hockey; on early international hockey; on the first hockey broadcasts on radio and television; and a final chapter about strange injuries and other oddities. Regular readers of these posts on my web site will recognize some of the stories, but there’ll be plenty that’s new.

I’ve often said — in these posts, and elsewhere — that I enjoy the research I do more than the writing. It’s always fascinating to me when trying to find one thing leads to something completely different. In this case, I was trying to track down the history behind the rule change in 1943–44 that introduced the center ice red line to hockey. I found plenty about that, but I also found this odd little tale that I had not seen years ago when research and writing Art Ross: The Hockey Legend Who Built the Bruins.

To be honest, this story doesn’t really fit any of the categories covered by the six chapters. I was also a little worried some people might find it politically incorrect. But, it made me laugh and so it found its way in. It’s actually the last story in the book, in the Injuries and Oddities chapter. It’s sort of an injury story … but it’s mostly an oddity.

The story appeared in Dink Carroll’s column in the Montreal Gazette on May 11, 1943. He was writing about a recent informal meeting of the NHL Governors, and noted that while sitting around in a suite in Montreal’s Windsor Hotel, Art Ross had been prevailed upon to tell “what has become known as ‘the Father Leveque story.’” He told it, wrote Carroll, “with obvious relish.”

In setting the scene, Carroll notes the story dates back to the fall of of 1936, when Ross’s Boston Bruins played Tommy Gorman’s Montreal Maroons in a six-game exhibition tour of the Maritime Provinces prior to the 1936–37 NHL season. By the time they reached Saint John, New Brunswick, interest had built to the point where tickets were scarce. Both Art Ross and Tommy Gorman were being inundated with requests for seats.

On the afternoon of the game, Ross called up Gorman and said it was Father Leveque speaking. Art can talk Habitant dialect with the best of them and Gorman went for it, particularly as “Father Leveque” kept telling him that he had admired the great job Tommy had done as a newspaper man and then as a hockey manager. Tommy said yes, he remembered “Father Leveque” very well.

“Father Leveque” then said he was the principal of a boys school, and the boys were poor and he would like a few passes for the game. Could he possibly get them? Tommy said he thought he could handle it all right. “Just a few passes,” said Father Leveque. “There are 59 boys at the school and they all want to go to the game. Can I maybe have 59 passes?”

Tommy demurred . . . but “Father Leveque” again recollected the great job Tommy had done on the newspaper, and his glorious record in hockey. Tommy finally capitulated, saying he would pay for some of the seats himself.

“One more thing,” said “Father Leveque. “Are you sure the boys will be able to see from the seats?”

“Of course they will,” Tommy answered a little testily. “These will be the best seats in the house. They’ll be able to see fine.”

“That will be a miracle then,” said Father Leveque. “Because these boys are all blind.”

After an exhibition game between the Montreal Canadiens and the Montreal Wanderers four nights earlier, the first regular-season hockey game was held at Toronto’s new Arena Gardens on Mutual Street on Christmas night, December 25, 1912. (That’s coming up on a somewhat stylistically interesting – but not really significant – 111 years ago.)

In that season opener of the National Hockey Association (forerunner of the National Hockey League), the Canadiens beat the brand new Toronto Hockey Club (aka the Torontos, the Blueshirts, or the Blue Shirts), 9-5.

No matter what you celebrate at this time of year, I hope you have/had a happy one. And all the best to everybody for a happy and healthy — and peaceful — new year in 2024.

Canada won the World Championship in hockey on the weekend. Yay, us! But the tournament has never really attracted a lot of attention in this country. When Canada was dominating in the early days, everyone here knew the amateurs representing the country in Europe weren’t the best players we had to offer, since the pros in the NHL weren’t allowed. And, of course, that became our national excuse when the Soviet Union began to dominate during the 1960s.

The vast majority of Canadian hockey fans have always been much more interested in NHL teams and Stanley Cup victories than the World Championships. It’s also part of the reason why, when it comes to international hockey, we long for the “Best-on-Best” format of the Canada Cup/World Cup and so enjoyed the Winter Olympic tournaments of 1998 through 2018, when the NHL was allowing its best players to compete … which hasn’t been the case at the last two Winter Olympics.

Still, the victory on Sunday — 5–2 over Germany — gave Canada 28 world titles all-time; one more than the Soviets/Russians. So, again, yay us! That said, I barely paid any attention this year myself … but it was an interesting tournament. Latvia won the bronze medal by defeating the United States 4-3 in overtime for the first World Championship medal in that country’s history. Germany’s silver was their first medal since 1953. And, it was the first time the Germans faced Canada for gold since 1930 … which was the very first year the hockey World Championships were conducted separately from the Olympic Games.

And therein lies the rest of my story.

I guess it was in early May, back in 1994, when I first began to do some research into the 1930 World Championships. I had, by then, published my first book, the novel, Hockey Night in the Dominion of Canada, and had since managed to sell a few articles about sports history (mainly hockey) to various Toronto newspapers. With Canada en route to its first hockey World Championship in 33 years, I figured there would be (or maybe there already had been — I can’t remember!) plenty of stories coming out about the 1961 Trail Smoke Eaters. So, I thought, instead of re-hashing the last Canadian World Champion team, I would write something about the first one.

I remember reading a little bit about the 1930 tournament in the book Hockey is Our Game, by the esteemed Canadian sportswriter Jim Coleman. Coleman wrote that Canada was represented at the tournament by the 1929 Allan Cup champion Port Arthur Bearcats. That made sense to me, since I knew it was often the previous year’s Allan Cup champions — the senior amateur champions of Canada — who represented the country at the World Championships and Olympics in the early days of international hockey.

So, I went down to the Metro Toronto Reference Library to read through microfilm and see what I could find. Again, I can’t recall precisely, but my memory is I spent the whole day searching through either a Fort William or Port Arthur newspaper. (It’s possible I was searching through The Toronto Star or The Globe and Mail … but I don’t think so.) Anyway, I began in the fall of 1929, and just kept searching. The Port Arthur team started out playing their local season schedule … and kept on playing. As they did, I kept expecting to find a story one day saying they’d been invited to represent Canada overseas, and so had dropped out of the local hockey scene to head to Europe.

But then it was March and the playoffs were starting. And Port Arthur kept playing.

The Ports (as they seem to be called — not the Bearcats) won the Thunder Bay championship, and then defeated the Manitoba champion Elmwood Millionaires in a Western Canada semifinal. Meanwhile, the British Columbia champion Trail Smoke Eaters defeated the Alberta champion Blairmore Bearcats and then beat the Saskatchewan champion Saskatoon Quakers in the other Western semifinal (I looked all that up now) before Port Arthur eliminated Trail in the Western Final and advanced to play the Montreal AAA for the Allan Cup.

Even then, I still expected to find a story saying Port Arthur was going to bail on the Allan Cup and head over to Europe. I didn’t know yet that the 1930 World Championships had actually taken place between late January and early February. But then, I came across a photo in the newspaper of the Canadas Hockey Team of Toronto who had represented the country at the tournament!

Who were they?!?

I don’t remember when I began the research that would eventually lead me to write about the Toronto Canadas (who were actually the Toronto CCMs — more shortly). Nor do I remember how I tracked down a phone number for Jim Coleman. But I did. I don’t remember if he was still living in Toronto, or if he had already retired to Vancouver. Wherever he was, and however I got the number, I called him.

I told him he’d been mistaken in his book.

He couldn’t have cared less! Couldn’t have been ruder to me, actually.

(I shouldn’t hold a grudge, but nearly 30 years later, it’s still lessened my opinion of him!)

Anyway, I would come to learn the CCM sporting goods company had been entering a team in the Toronto Mercantile League since at least 1923. My brother Jonathan and I produced a short TV feature about the Toronto CCM team and the 1930 World Championship for TSN in 1997. Unfortunately, the Toronto Blue Jays fired manager Cito Gaston around the time our piece was supposed to air and we got bumped … but TSN did show it later, and it was pretty exciting for us.

I would later write about the team again for The Toronto Star on April 26, 2005. Much of what I’m about to say here comes from that story. As I wrote then, CCM won not only the Toronto Mercantile title in 1929, but also defeated the winners of the city’s Mining and Brokers League too, and that fall, CCM executive George S. Braden travelled to Europe on business. While there, he decided the growing number of hockey teams in Europe would benefit from increased exposure to Canadian teams. (He no doubt saw a lucrative new market for CCM merchandise too!)

Braden obtained permission from the Canadian Amateur Hockey Association to send the CCM team on a European tour. Since the International Ice Hockey Federation had decided to expand its annual European Championship into a World Championship in 1930, the Toronto team — wearing a white maple leaf on red sweaters and with the name “Canadas” emblazoned beneath — would represent the country at the new tournament.

Nine of the 11 men who had played for CCM’s championship team gathered at Union Station on December 5, 1929. One day later, goaltender Percy Timpson, defencemen Joe Griffin and Fred Radke, and forwards Gordie Grant, Wally Adams, Don Hutchison, Bert Clayton, Alec Park and Harold Armstrong, along with George Braden and coach Les Allan, set sail from Saint John, New Brunswick. They arrived in London on December 14 and defeated the British All-Stars 6-2 at the Wembley Ice Club three nights later.

Averaging a game every second night, the Canadas scored victory after victory en route to the World Championship, which was scheduled to begin January 27, 1930. Unfortunately, warm weather at the outdoor venue in Chamonix, France, pushed back the start until January 31. The round-robin system was abandoned in favor of a knockout format that would serve as the European Championship. With no U.S. team present, the Canadians were given a bye directly into the finals, where they would face the European champs for the World title.

To stay in shape while the European teams knocked each other out, the Canadas scheduled games in Vienna, and on February 7, 1930, during a stretch of three games in three nights, they dropped a 1-0 decision to the Austrian national team on an outdoor rink that had been waterlogged by a day of rain. They bounced back the next night with a 6-0 win over the Vienna Skating Club, then boarded a train for Berlin, where they would face Germany in the World Championship final (which had been relocated to an indoor arena) on February 10.

Buoyed by a hometown crowd and taking advantage of their weary opponents, Germany’s Gustav Jaenecke beat Percy Timpson for the game’s first goal, but Gordie Grant retaliated quickly. A few minutes later, Alec Park put the Canadas on top. Grant and Park scored again in the second period, while Red Armstrong and Joe Griffin tallied in the third for a 6-1 Canadian victory.

Back home in Canada, the World Championship victory was newsworthy, but hardly noteworthy. “The title is an empty one, of course,” wrote Toronto Star sports editor W.A. Hewitt in the paper on February 11, “and the Canadas will make no such pretensions when they come home. To their credit, however, they have played good hockey on their trip and plenty of it, and have done much to educate Europeans in the fastest of all sports.”

Having won the World Championship, the Canadas flew from Berlin to London and finished their tour. They arrived back in Toronto on the evening of February 25. In their 83 days abroad, the Canadas had travelled 22,500 kilometers, played 32 games, won 31, and outscored their opponents 304-26.

The City of Toronto held a small civic reception for the Canadas/CCM team at Union Station on the night of their return. In reporting on it in The Star on February 26, writer C.H. Good was quite complimentary of the team, and although his story mentions they would be “sure of a great reception when they show themselves at the Ravina rink where the Mercantile League first playoff game is scheduled, and also tomorrow noon when they will be guests of honor at a luncheon to be tendered by the West Toronto Kiwanis,” and, furthermore, that a civic dinner, or, at least “something of the sort” had been promised by the city fathers on hand at Union Station, I could find nothing to confirm any of it.

And so, Canada’s first World Champions of hockey soon faded into obscurity.

I wasn’t the first to uncover their tale, but I’ve certainly done my part.

And I still think it’s a pretty neat story!