Here is the letter that Mike Bossy wrote to 14 year old Mike Bossy
The legendary Mike Bossy wrote a letter in 2017 in The Players' Tribune, to 14-year-old Mike Bossy. Thanks to TVA Sports for the free translation, courtesy of Michel Godbout.
Dear 14-year-old Mike, I am writing this to you as I reach sixty years old, and I have news from the future that you will find implausible.
There are 30 teams in the NHL in 2017 and next season there will be one in Las Vegas.
Players no longer smoke or drink black coffee between periods. Instead they drink "smoothies" and they "stretch".
The salary for a 50-goal scorer hovers around $9 million a year and fighting is considered a dying practice.
I know you love this one. You're about to go through some extremely violent times. That's kind of why I'm writing to you, to tell you that you're about to go through one of the most difficult times of your life. I hope you've enjoyed your beautiful nose for the past 14 years, because it will get crooked before long.
The Laval Nationals organization is about to move your family into a new house so you can play with the team. At first, everything will seem perfect. Up until now, your parents have raised 10 children in a four and a half in Montreal. You've never had a bedroom. You have to sleep in a crib at the end of the hall behind a small curtain.
When you think of hockey, you don't see the Montreal Canadiens in their blue, white and red jerseys. You hear the Canadiens instead. That's because your dad never lets you watch Hockey Night in Canada on TV. He closes your little curtain, but your bed is next to the living room, so you never sleep through the games, you listen to them. You barely remember seeing Jean Beliveau play, but you have clear memories of Danny Gallivan's voice going up a few octaves when Jean touched the puck.
When you move to the new house in Laval, you will finally have your own room, but your life on the ice for the next four years will be difficult. When you arrive, you'll be known as a natural marker. But the truth is, there's nothing natural about it. You'll always be annoyed by it, especially when people ask you "why was it so easy for you to score, Mike?"
It was never easy. Your mom likes to tell people about the time you scored 21 goals in your first game as a rookie. While that story is true, the goals only tell part of the story. Because your mom forgets to mention how much time you spent alone on the rink in the backyard shooting pucks off a wooden board. You don't have a real field hockey net, so you hone your accuracy by aiming at the puck marks on the board. Shot after shot after shot until your feet are completely frozen (remember how Mom used to thaw out your feet in cold water because she was afraid the hot water would make your toes fall off)?
There are 30 teams in the NHL in 2017 and next season there will be one in Las Vegas.
Players no longer smoke or drink black coffee between periods. Instead they drink "smoothies" and they "stretch".
The salary for a 50-goal scorer hovers around $9 million a year and fighting is considered a dying practice.
I know you love this one. You're about to go through some extremely violent times. That's kind of why I'm writing to you, to tell you that you're about to go through one of the most difficult times of your life. I hope you've enjoyed your beautiful nose for the past 14 years, because it will get crooked before long.
The Laval Nationals organization is about to move your family into a new house so you can play with the team. At first, everything will seem perfect. Up until now, your parents have raised 10 children in a four and a half in Montreal. You've never had a bedroom. You have to sleep in a crib at the end of the hall behind a small curtain.
When you think of hockey, you don't see the Montreal Canadiens in their blue, white and red jerseys. You hear the Canadiens instead. That's because your dad never lets you watch Hockey Night in Canada on TV. He closes your little curtain, but your bed is next to the living room, so you never sleep through the games, you listen to them. You barely remember seeing Jean Beliveau play, but you have clear memories of Danny Gallivan's voice going up a few octaves when Jean touched the puck.
When you move to the new house in Laval, you will finally have your own room, but your life on the ice for the next four years will be difficult. When you arrive, you'll be known as a natural marker. But the truth is, there's nothing natural about it. You'll always be annoyed by it, especially when people ask you "why was it so easy for you to score, Mike?"
It was never easy. Your mom likes to tell people about the time you scored 21 goals in your first game as a rookie. While that story is true, the goals only tell part of the story. Because your mom forgets to mention how much time you spent alone on the rink in the backyard shooting pucks off a wooden board. You don't have a real field hockey net, so you hone your accuracy by aiming at the puck marks on the board. Shot after shot after shot until your feet are completely frozen (remember how Mom used to thaw out your feet in cold water because she was afraid the hot water would make your toes fall off)?
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For some reason, there are people who will hate you for being a scorer. Opposing teams will target you more often than not. They'll jump on you from behind. They'll hit you underhanded. They'll even knock you out with body checks in your blind spot. (In the future, this will be a serious injury called concussion. You don't know it yet, but you'll have several.)
Some nights, while you're sitting on the bench catching your breath, you'll look up to see the other team, the entire team, literally running towards your bench to start a general fight. The batting and double-checking will be so frequent, it won't be worth talking about. That's just the reality of junior hockey in the 1970s.
This abuse will scar you forever. Your nose will be broken. Your ribs will be cracked. But it will scar your mind too. Psychologically, the simple bus ride to the next game, knowing the level of violence that awaits you, will be difficult for you. There will be many trips where you will wonder why you are playing, what is the point?
But you must persevere. You must persevere for two reasons:
1. If you don't give up, you will set the record for most goals at the junior level and make it to the NHL.
2. The girl behind the counter at the snack bar.
Number 2 is the most important reason. The girl who works every morning at the snack bar at the Laval skating rink is pretty good looking. I know all your little strategies my man. You're too embarrassed to talk to her, so every day before practice you go buy her a chocolate bar.
Eventually you'll have to find the courage to talk to her, maybe even ask her name. (It's Lucy by the way). Her brother is the coach of the midget team and he's pretty smart, so you'd better be a gentleman.
This girl will be by your side for the rest of your life. She is crazy about field hockey and no one, not even you, will be as critical of your performance.
In 1977, in just six years, you will have the opportunity of a lifetime. Fourteen teams will look up to you at the NHL draft. They won't want anything to do with you. They'll think you're too shy. They'll say you're too frail to score goals in the NHL. At least, that's what you'll tell yourself as you sit in your lawyer's office, staring at the phone, waiting for it to ring.
Finally, the call will come, a man named Bill Torrey will welcome you to the New York Islanders. He is the general manager and is building a dynasty. Now I have to warn you.
Bill is a legend.
You are a naive and embarrassed young man.
I implore you, I beg you to let your agent negotiate your contract. If I can change the future with this letter, I would like you to do something for me. When you sit down with Bill and he makes you a ridiculously low offer, let your agent speak. Let him compare the offer with other recruits. That's the way it is in business.
Do you want to know what you did? (Don't!)
Bill will be sitting there with his famous red bow tie and he'll say, "So Mike, since you're not happy with this offer, at what level do you think you can play in the NHL?"
You'll answer point blank, without even thinking about it, "I think I can score 50 goals this season."
It will take Bill and your agent a few minutes to stop laughing. You don't even have a guaranteed spot on the team and it's one of the good teams in the league. 50 goals? 50 GOALS?
That's a ridiculous thing to say, especially for a young, embarrassed white guy. I still don't know where it came from. But it did!
So don't do that. Because even though your contract will be settled, I can safely say that it had nothing to do with your statement. And you will enter training camp as the kid who told Bill Torrey he would score 50. (This story will be retold and twisted in all sorts of ways).
Make no mistake, the Islanders drafted you to score goals. Which brings me to my next piece of advice: leave your coach alone.
Al Arbour doesn't want to talk to you, Mike.
The first two or three practices, you'll go to him during breaks to find out what you need to do in the defensive zone.
"Coach, should I be along the boards?"
"Coach, when the puck is behind the net, am I in the right place?"
"Coach..."
Finally he'll tell you to shut up
"Mike?"
"Yes coach."
"Mike, do you know why you play for us?"
"Well, eee....."
"Mike, we have you here to score goals. Can you score some for us?"
"Well, eee....."
"Mike, don't ever bother me with your defensive game again. If I have anything to tell you about it, I'll come to you, okay?"
You'll talk to Al maybe two or three times during the season.
Al doesn't need to talk to you because there's a player named Bryan Trottier looking out for you. Bryan will be your best friend in field hockey. But I have to warn you, he's from Western Canada, he has a funny little mustache and his shot could barely cut through a paper bag.
Bryan is not a big guy, but he is one of the strongest centers you will see. He works on all aspects of his game. He is a complete player and you will develop such chemistry with him that you will never keep your left winger.
They're always going to complain that you and Bryan only play with each other. That's not untrue. But it works. At some point, you'll say to Bryan, "You don't need to see me, you just need to see my stick. As long as you see my stick, put the puck on the puckboard."
It's that philosophy that will see you score 53 goals in your first season. "Trots" will score 46 (but he will be proud to point out that he beat you for total points). In your first two seasons, you will have amazing chemistry with him, but your team will not win the Stanley Cup.
Your team won't have all the pieces yet. You'll score a ton of goals in the regular season, but you'll struggle in the playoffs when the game gets tight. There will be no more time, no more space. You'll get hit, slashed and slashed again and again. Your opponents want you to throw down the gloves.
So you make a decision that, at the time, is quite controversial. In 1979, you will tell journalists that you will never fight. That's all there is to it. No matter what happens to you, you will not drop the gloves. You think that's completely insane.
Oh, it's going to get a lot of press...
You have to be prepared for the insults and the name-calling. You have to be prepared for people's eyes and their perception of what was said in 1979. For a player who has been falsely categorized as "shy", it's going to be a big deal. There will be those people in the field hockey world who will not accept that a player who refuses to fight can be a winner.
It was in the first game of the 1980 Stanley Cup Final that you had your moment of truth. Your team accidentally clears the puck on the power play and there is a face-off in your territory. As you skate to take your place in the circle, you'll see Mel Bridgeman heading straight for you. The big, bad, intimidating Bridgeman. He doesn't change his trajectory!
What are you doing?
At that very moment, you have to go over his body. This is the last thing in the world he expects. You have to assert yourself, prove to yourself that you are not going to give in to intimidation.
If you do, he'll fall on his ass in front of a packed Philadelphia Spectrum.
There will be too much astonishment for a general brawl to ensue. It won't stop the vicious beating, but your action will set you free. It goes back to the feelings you had in the pit of your stomach when you traveled to play your games in junior high.
The split second you see Mel coming at you, you have to say to yourself, "That's enough."
That collision in the first game will set the tone for the next four years of your life. You'll win that game in overtime and go on to your first Stanley Cup. Three more will follow.
My biggest advice to you is to push yourself to make memories. As sad as it may seem, as I write these words to you at the age of 60, I can barely remember lifting those Stanley Cups. I don't know if it's all the hits I took or just because I was overwhelmed, but I remember very little.
I remember Bryan with the cup. I have a vivid image of him, completely out of his mind speeding around the Nassau Coliseum rink holding the trophy over his head. I see him on the bench yelling at the crowd. I see him jumping on Billy Smith after our fourth straight cup.
My advice, Mike, remember these moments. Cherish them, because they will be shorter than you think.
Some nights, while you're sitting on the bench catching your breath, you'll look up to see the other team, the entire team, literally running towards your bench to start a general fight. The batting and double-checking will be so frequent, it won't be worth talking about. That's just the reality of junior hockey in the 1970s.
This abuse will scar you forever. Your nose will be broken. Your ribs will be cracked. But it will scar your mind too. Psychologically, the simple bus ride to the next game, knowing the level of violence that awaits you, will be difficult for you. There will be many trips where you will wonder why you are playing, what is the point?
But you must persevere. You must persevere for two reasons:
1. If you don't give up, you will set the record for most goals at the junior level and make it to the NHL.
2. The girl behind the counter at the snack bar.
Number 2 is the most important reason. The girl who works every morning at the snack bar at the Laval skating rink is pretty good looking. I know all your little strategies my man. You're too embarrassed to talk to her, so every day before practice you go buy her a chocolate bar.
Eventually you'll have to find the courage to talk to her, maybe even ask her name. (It's Lucy by the way). Her brother is the coach of the midget team and he's pretty smart, so you'd better be a gentleman.
This girl will be by your side for the rest of your life. She is crazy about field hockey and no one, not even you, will be as critical of your performance.
In 1977, in just six years, you will have the opportunity of a lifetime. Fourteen teams will look up to you at the NHL draft. They won't want anything to do with you. They'll think you're too shy. They'll say you're too frail to score goals in the NHL. At least, that's what you'll tell yourself as you sit in your lawyer's office, staring at the phone, waiting for it to ring.
Finally, the call will come, a man named Bill Torrey will welcome you to the New York Islanders. He is the general manager and is building a dynasty. Now I have to warn you.
Bill is a legend.
You are a naive and embarrassed young man.
I implore you, I beg you to let your agent negotiate your contract. If I can change the future with this letter, I would like you to do something for me. When you sit down with Bill and he makes you a ridiculously low offer, let your agent speak. Let him compare the offer with other recruits. That's the way it is in business.
Do you want to know what you did? (Don't!)
Bill will be sitting there with his famous red bow tie and he'll say, "So Mike, since you're not happy with this offer, at what level do you think you can play in the NHL?"
You'll answer point blank, without even thinking about it, "I think I can score 50 goals this season."
It will take Bill and your agent a few minutes to stop laughing. You don't even have a guaranteed spot on the team and it's one of the good teams in the league. 50 goals? 50 GOALS?
That's a ridiculous thing to say, especially for a young, embarrassed white guy. I still don't know where it came from. But it did!
So don't do that. Because even though your contract will be settled, I can safely say that it had nothing to do with your statement. And you will enter training camp as the kid who told Bill Torrey he would score 50. (This story will be retold and twisted in all sorts of ways).
Make no mistake, the Islanders drafted you to score goals. Which brings me to my next piece of advice: leave your coach alone.
Al Arbour doesn't want to talk to you, Mike.
The first two or three practices, you'll go to him during breaks to find out what you need to do in the defensive zone.
"Coach, should I be along the boards?"
"Coach, when the puck is behind the net, am I in the right place?"
"Coach..."
Finally he'll tell you to shut up
"Mike?"
"Yes coach."
"Mike, do you know why you play for us?"
"Well, eee....."
"Mike, we have you here to score goals. Can you score some for us?"
"Well, eee....."
"Mike, don't ever bother me with your defensive game again. If I have anything to tell you about it, I'll come to you, okay?"
You'll talk to Al maybe two or three times during the season.
Al doesn't need to talk to you because there's a player named Bryan Trottier looking out for you. Bryan will be your best friend in field hockey. But I have to warn you, he's from Western Canada, he has a funny little mustache and his shot could barely cut through a paper bag.
Bryan is not a big guy, but he is one of the strongest centers you will see. He works on all aspects of his game. He is a complete player and you will develop such chemistry with him that you will never keep your left winger.
They're always going to complain that you and Bryan only play with each other. That's not untrue. But it works. At some point, you'll say to Bryan, "You don't need to see me, you just need to see my stick. As long as you see my stick, put the puck on the puckboard."
It's that philosophy that will see you score 53 goals in your first season. "Trots" will score 46 (but he will be proud to point out that he beat you for total points). In your first two seasons, you will have amazing chemistry with him, but your team will not win the Stanley Cup.
Your team won't have all the pieces yet. You'll score a ton of goals in the regular season, but you'll struggle in the playoffs when the game gets tight. There will be no more time, no more space. You'll get hit, slashed and slashed again and again. Your opponents want you to throw down the gloves.
So you make a decision that, at the time, is quite controversial. In 1979, you will tell journalists that you will never fight. That's all there is to it. No matter what happens to you, you will not drop the gloves. You think that's completely insane.
Oh, it's going to get a lot of press...
You have to be prepared for the insults and the name-calling. You have to be prepared for people's eyes and their perception of what was said in 1979. For a player who has been falsely categorized as "shy", it's going to be a big deal. There will be those people in the field hockey world who will not accept that a player who refuses to fight can be a winner.
It was in the first game of the 1980 Stanley Cup Final that you had your moment of truth. Your team accidentally clears the puck on the power play and there is a face-off in your territory. As you skate to take your place in the circle, you'll see Mel Bridgeman heading straight for you. The big, bad, intimidating Bridgeman. He doesn't change his trajectory!
What are you doing?
At that very moment, you have to go over his body. This is the last thing in the world he expects. You have to assert yourself, prove to yourself that you are not going to give in to intimidation.
If you do, he'll fall on his ass in front of a packed Philadelphia Spectrum.
There will be too much astonishment for a general brawl to ensue. It won't stop the vicious beating, but your action will set you free. It goes back to the feelings you had in the pit of your stomach when you traveled to play your games in junior high.
The split second you see Mel coming at you, you have to say to yourself, "That's enough."
That collision in the first game will set the tone for the next four years of your life. You'll win that game in overtime and go on to your first Stanley Cup. Three more will follow.
My biggest advice to you is to push yourself to make memories. As sad as it may seem, as I write these words to you at the age of 60, I can barely remember lifting those Stanley Cups. I don't know if it's all the hits I took or just because I was overwhelmed, but I remember very little.
I remember Bryan with the cup. I have a vivid image of him, completely out of his mind speeding around the Nassau Coliseum rink holding the trophy over his head. I see him on the bench yelling at the crowd. I see him jumping on Billy Smith after our fourth straight cup.
My advice, Mike, remember these moments. Cherish them, because they will be shorter than you think.
newpage
Remember when you broke your kneecap in a long jump at the school Olympics? You had a cast from your ankle to your hip. Remember how you played catcher all summer with your leg stretched out in a half-step?
Your knee will never fully heal. Nothing too serious, because you'll be able to skate without any problems. But as medical science advances, you'll discover that this kind of injury causes others. Nine seasons into your NHL career, before your 30th birthday, your back will give out. And when your back goes, it's gone.
You won't be able to write the end of your story the way you want to. It will be hard to accept. But this lesson will be important for the young man you are. This is life. There are only certain elements of our story that we can write ourselves. Many of them are already written for us.
Think of your father, for example.
Where did your road to four Stanley Cups begin? Your collision with Mel? With all the work you did with Bryan Trottier? With the call from Bill Torrey? Did it start with your 260 goals in Laval, or the 21 in your first rookie game?
No. None of this happens without the first chapter of your story, the one that is already written for you.
Remember the little 4 and a half in Montreal and your baby bed? Some winter mornings when you woke up and sat down to breakfast, your father would come home from outside with frost on his eyebrows. He had been watering the backyard rink for hours and nailing a wooden board to the fence.
Thousands of miles away in Western Canada, Bryan's dad would flood the backyard rink by breaking a beaver dam.
We can't write the beginning or the end of our story.
But we can stay up late at night listening to the sounds of Hockey Night in Canada.
We can also talk to the girl at the snack bar.
We can quit smoking after our rookie season.
We can go over Mel Bridgeman's body.
We can reflect on the past and say thank God I was an Islander and I love you Bryan Trottier.
I truly do,
Mike Bossy
Your knee will never fully heal. Nothing too serious, because you'll be able to skate without any problems. But as medical science advances, you'll discover that this kind of injury causes others. Nine seasons into your NHL career, before your 30th birthday, your back will give out. And when your back goes, it's gone.
You won't be able to write the end of your story the way you want to. It will be hard to accept. But this lesson will be important for the young man you are. This is life. There are only certain elements of our story that we can write ourselves. Many of them are already written for us.
Think of your father, for example.
Where did your road to four Stanley Cups begin? Your collision with Mel? With all the work you did with Bryan Trottier? With the call from Bill Torrey? Did it start with your 260 goals in Laval, or the 21 in your first rookie game?
No. None of this happens without the first chapter of your story, the one that is already written for you.
Remember the little 4 and a half in Montreal and your baby bed? Some winter mornings when you woke up and sat down to breakfast, your father would come home from outside with frost on his eyebrows. He had been watering the backyard rink for hours and nailing a wooden board to the fence.
Thousands of miles away in Western Canada, Bryan's dad would flood the backyard rink by breaking a beaver dam.
We can't write the beginning or the end of our story.
But we can stay up late at night listening to the sounds of Hockey Night in Canada.
We can also talk to the girl at the snack bar.
We can quit smoking after our rookie season.
We can go over Mel Bridgeman's body.
We can reflect on the past and say thank God I was an Islander and I love you Bryan Trottier.
I truly do,
Mike Bossy
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