Blasts from the Past: Memories and Musings
By Norm Jewison
Back in the 1989-90 NHL season, my job title with the Vancouver Canucks was Director of Team Services, a kind of catch-all term which comprised the duties of a travelling secretary for the club on all road trips. It was sort of a ‘Mother Hen’ assignment, keeping her brood on track with the prescribed itinerary.
Just after New Year’s 1990, the Canucks embarked on a four-game trek that began with a 4-1 loss in Detroit followed by a 4-3 setback in Pittsburgh. The very next night, head coach, the late Bob McCammon, watched his charges put together a solid 5-2 win in Washington.
The final stop was in Montreal, a “Black Hole” for the Canucks who had won a pitiful six times at the venerable Forum in 40 tries over the team’s initial 20 seasons. This night would be no different as the weary travelers would fall 5-3 to the vaunted Bleu-Blanc-Rouge.
The next morning, I left for Dorval Airport two hours ahead of the team bus to pre-arrange boarding passes for our group of 26 players, coaches, trainers and media. Homeward-bound after a less-than-stellar trip, I wanted everything to run smoothly.
Upon meeting the head Air Canada gate agent, he said, “You’re a little early, aren’t you?”
“Why?” said I.
“Because we don’t have you scheduled to travel until tomorrow,” he said, matter-of-factly. It was one of those moments when your life kind of flashes before your eyes.
Trying to explain that these arrangements had been made the previous summer didn’t alter the fact that the airline had messed up, and now it was into immediate damage control. The agent instantly had all his staff scrambling to figure out how they could get all of us to Vancouver … today!
As the chaos behind the counter built to a frenzy, lo and behold, the team bus pulled up. McCammon was a stickler on seating details and was in a bad mood anyway after losing three of four games.
When I told him of our current dilemma, he was nigh on apoplectic. And I, of course, became the ‘whipping boy’ du jour.
As it turned out, the agent and his staff did an amazing job under frazzling circumstances. They arranged for 12 of us to fly directly to Vancouver, while seven were to travel to Winnipeg first, with the remainder changing planes in Calgary.
History will record that we all made it home safe and sound. And though it wasn’t very funny at the time, a few weeks later over a couple of beers, we all had a good laugh about it … even Bob McCammon.