A Fatherly Surprise

In 1956, I had the good fortune to live in a small town in Quebec named Temiscaming. I was the Principal of a school operated by the International Pulp and Paper Company. It was a rather small school with an enrolment of 580 students from K-13. My responsibility was for the K-8 classes.80 % of the students spoke French and there were only 4 classes of English speaking students. My other job was playing hockey for the town team in the Northern Quebec Hockey League. It was classified as Senior and had a good following among the Northern towns.

When I tried out for the team I was a newcomer to the area and had a very difficult time making an impression on the coach until one day a regular with the team slashed me about the neck and I retaliated and did a good number on him. The coach called me aside and told me I would be assigned to the third line which was a checking line and specialty squad.

We practised often and hard and I was slowly given a chance to play a few shifts per game. With an injury to one of our regulars my chance came to play on the second line on right wing. I loved the game and the intensity of the schedule and my school director told me I could take off Friday afternoon and Monday mornings when we travelled on road trips.

We never travelled during the week as all our players worked at the mill. I seldom scored but played regularly until I was shifted to center and played between two brothers. We became quite good on offence. The coach called a meeting before this particular roadtrip and told us of the need to win both games to make the playoffs.

We travelled to Noranda and played in their new arena. It was beautiful in comparison to ours.The one attraction this team had was they had a priest playing for them. His name was Father Costello and he turned down a professional contract with the Toronto Maple Leafs to do Gods work. I was warned about him and rightly so. He was the dirtiest player I ever encountered. He was known as a stick man and carved up many a player. Small and fast as he was he could match the biggest and roughest players. Father was also a leading scorer for the league.

The first time I played against him everyone warned me about going in the corner with him and to be careful The warning meant little to me at that time but two minutes later I was led over to the bench with a large gash to the face. In those days we never wore helmets or face guards and this type of injury was ordinary. Just before he hit me he yelled ,welcome to Noranda kid. He never even got a penalty. My wing man Laurent made an effort to even the score by driving him into the boards but that was all.

I never had much respect for clergy of any stripe but I learned too late to respect this Father . After the game we met as two teams and had a few drinks. I was too young so I had to do with a Pepsi. I talked to Father that day and he examined my cut and said I was OK.

Years later when I lived in Pembroke and playing old timers hockey I played against Father Costello and after the game we shared stories and a few laughs. I showed him my scar and he blessed it for a joke. He played for and organized the Flying Fathers Hockey Team and they have raised thousands of dollars for charity. He was a different person thirty five years later but I would still watch my back when going into the corner knowing he was lurking near by.