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They agreed, but shortly afterwards I was called up to the NHL for good. After thirty-eight games, ten goals, and twenty-four points, my American Hockey League days were over.

CHAPTER THREE
    I WISH I COULD SAY THAT IT WAS A SEAMLESS transition to the NHL for me. But it wasn’t. In the American Hockey League, if you asked for help, you’d get it. It was a good place for a young player to ask questions and learn all about the game. In the NHL , there was no one really helping you. For a kid playing in the league at that time, it was a little intimidating. It was very frustrating in a lot of ways, actually.
    Being on the buses for week-long road trips in the minors allowed you to bond with your teammates – and the coaching staff, for that matter. In Detroit, both Eleanor and I weren’t really treated that well by many of the other players or their wives. I wish I didn’t have to say that, but it’s true. Sure, it was exciting to be playing in the bigs, but they really made you feel like an outcast until you proved you belonged. It was a real insiders’ club, and I wasn’t an insider yet. It was not easy to make the NHL in those days, and it was just as tough – if not tougher – to stay there. With only six teams,you were always looking over your shoulder, especially when you first started out. You were always a few bad games away from a demotion to the minors and somebody else taking your job away from you.
    NHL general managers would take advantage of that competition too, to keep you on your toes and to keep salaries down. When the league expanded to twelve teams, things started to change big-time on that front, but until then management had players just where they wanted them, and the players knew that.
    Bruce MacGregor was a good friend to both of us, though. He and his wife, Audrey, were great to Eleanor and me when we were first coming into the league. We became fast friends and by our second year in Detroit even decided to live across the river in Windsor, where the MacGregors resided.
    You had to watch out when you were on the ice too, as nobody on the other teams was going to make it easy for you. I had only been in the National Hockey League for a couple of weeks when we headed to Boston for a game against the Bruins. I had been working on a breakaway play with Doug Barkley in practice, and it had worked pretty well, so I was anxious to try it in a game.
    The play was pretty simple and it took advantage of my speed. He’d fire a pass up through centre ice to me and I’d streak off the wing and quickly get behind the defence, then go right in on goal on a breakaway. I hadn’t scored a goal up until that point, so Barkley told me he’d look for me when we were on the ice together to try the play.
    Well, we were in Boston and I felt the time was right to give the play a try. I noticed that the Bruins had called up some old guy from the minors and teamed him with LeoBoivin, a solid NHL defenceman who was also getting up there in years by that point.
    “Look at those two old farts out there,” I said to Barkley. “Have an eye out for me out there coming up the centre. I’m sure it’ll work against them.”
    Nothing special happened in the first period, and in the second period, Barkley saw me on the ice with Boivin and this other guy. He threw a perfect pass right up the centre to me and I took off, head down, to quickly get behind them for the breakaway.
    Bang!
I had no time to react as Boivin crunched me – and knocked me as cold as a mackerel! I mean, he really clocked me. They brought out the stretcher and wheeled me off, the whole deal.
    They used to call Leo Boivin the fire hydrant, as he was just a stocky, hard-hitting defenceman with a solid but short build. But I’d thought he might be too old by now, and maybe too slow, to be able to catch me. I’d thought wrong.
    I came to in the dressing room and our trainer, Lefty Wilson, had some ammonia packs under my nose, trying to revive me. He