TORONTO (Dec. 5) -- Perhaps I have too much time on my hands between radio up-dates during Maple Leaf games, but I couldn't resist keeping a mental note of things I heard in last night's victory by the Blue & White over Nashville at the Air Canada Centre. Leafs' general manager John Ferguson sits in an enclosed booth in the press box, roughly 20 feet over my right shoulder. And John Jr. has morphed into a virtual clone of his late father -- the irrepressible John Bowie Ferguson -- when it comes to reacting during games. The elder Ferguson could shake the foundation of the old Winnipeg Arena with his thunderous bellow... an almost primal noise that was directed, most often, at referees and linesmen.
The young Fergie is not quite as startling in an agitated state, but he is an absolutely tormented soul from the moment the puck is dropped, to the final buzzer. He is usually flanked in his booth by members of the Leafs' ownership and/or management cartel. Last night, Doug Gilmour sat to his right; Jeff Jackson to his left. I watched all but the final five minutes of the match from my seat in the press box. And, during that span, I was able to hear Ferguson drop a total of 197 f-bombs. I'm certain there were 25 or 30 others that were beyond my aural range, and at least a dozen more in the dying moments of the game, after I'd left for the dressing room.
The late, great John B. would be damned proud of his son!
Gilmour, the beloved ex-captain-turned-advisor, didn't say a whole lot, but the expression on his face several times was that of a man who wished he had a parachute. Jackson -- as excitable as his boss -- accidentally heaved a pen out of the booth in the first period that conked noted radio/TV producer Josh Rimer in the head. Rimer, whose pronounced noggin can withstand such abuse, calmly retrieved the pen and fed it up to Jackson.
It isn't my experience to see Leaf GMs quite so edgy. When I began this gig in the mid-1980s, Gerry McNamara held the post. He was perched at the far south end of the Maple Leaf Gardens press box -- a good 200 feet from my usual location. Every so often, he would scamper down to the opposite end of the box, where a supervisor from the NHL's officiating staff watched the game from a corner loft. You could tell when Gerry was mad, simply by the exaggerated thumping of his foot-steps. And, he would steam past us kind of leaning to his right. I often marveled how he could walk in such a manner without tumbling over. Generally speaking, though, G-Mac was quite reserved during games.
His predecessor, Gord Stellick, also seemed calm on the outside -- as he does during his morning-show routine on The Fan-590 nowadays.
Floyd Smith could let out a sarcastic-sounding "fu--!!" now and then, but he usually watched his mediocre team silently, with a look of virtual astonishment on his face.
The stately Cliff Fletcher almost always maintained decorum in public, though he'd often startle those sitting near him by slamming the palm of his right hand onto the table in front of him. Same thing with Cliff's successors -- Ken Dryden and Mike Smith. I occasionally expected these men to show up at the next game wearing a cast, but it never happened. Pat Quinn spent all of his managerial days coaching the Leafs as well, so I was never privy to his first-hand reactions. There were many times, however, when the big Irishman seemed poised to slam the palm of his hand on a reporter's head afterwards.
Ferguson just lets it out -- naturally and recurrently. His lexicon is limited almost exclusively to that word few of us can use in print. Only the inflection changes now and then. But, even John had to enjoy what he saw last night... a third consecutive victory for his team, after a series of demoralizing set-backs. And, good on the GM. Ferguson may not be the people's choice, but he does handle the bows and arrows with a dose of dignity. And, he almost always makes himself available.
Just about everyone in the media -- myself included -- was all over Ferguson after the losses last week in Dallas and Phoenix. He persevered; answered his critics, and withstood a too-honest slip of the tongue from his boss (Richard Peddie). John deserves to bask in a bit of tranquility and triumph.
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