on our way
By Stan Fischler
When the 1972 Entry Draft took place, Bob Nystrom had so little hope of being plucked by a National Hockey League team he ignored the event.
Working for a construction company in Kamloops, British Columbia, the strapping 19-year-old finished his work framing houses and returned home to share dinner with his father.
"Guess what?" the senior Nystrom intoned. "You were drafted by the New York Islanders."
Wiping latent perspiration off his brow, young Bob replied, "Dad, if I may ask, who are the New York Islanders?"
"You'll find out," father Nystrom asserted.
Nystrom showed up at the franchise's inaugural training camp in Peterborough, Ontario, along with such candidates as forwards Lorne Henning, Craig Cameron, Terry Crisp and Germain Gagnon. Also present via the Expansion Draft were Cup-winning Boston forward Ed Westfall, young defenseman Gerry Hart and an unknown truculent goalie named Bill Smith, as well as the first overall pick in the Amateur Draft, Billy Harris. The group had been meticulously selected by Bill Torrey, his assistant Ed Chadwick and their most trusted scout, Toronto-born hockey addict Jim Devallano.
Torrey aside, Devallano was the most ubiquitous member of the staff, and also one of the most insightful. He learned how to "read" Torrey's mind and - best of all – they agreed on most personnel decisions. When they disagreed, Torrey was a good listener because he trusted Devellano's instincts. Over time this would prove to be key. But at present it seemed nothing could save the 1972-73 Isles no matter who was calling the shots upstairs.
"We didn't have much on defense," remembered Devellano. "Matter of fact, we didn't have much anywhere."
The best thing that could be said about training camp was that the team survived and head coach Phil Goyette avoided a nervous breakdown. Even then, players suspected that Goyette, who had never coached in anything but one NHL game, seemed out of his league. "Phil was a helluva guy," snapped team captain Ed Westfall, "but he had no clue about coaching."
Goyette's attraction was that he was media-friendly. He kidded the writers who chided him for his consummate inexperience.
"Hey," he chortled, "I coached one game in Buffalo and we won, so that means I'm undefeated. Can any other NHL coach say that?!"
Unfortunately Phil's undefeated coaching streak was snapped on opening night, October 7, 1972, before a crowd of 12,221 at the Coliseum.
Sister-expansion team Atlanta took the contest, 3-2, however, another winner was the arena. NHL President Clarence Campbell, on hand for the festivities, studied the Nassau ice palace and dubbed it, "A magnificent place to watch hockey."
The product itself was wanting in terms of style and results. Yet Torrey retained his rich sense of humor throughout the whole ugly mess.
"Is my team's new name 'Hapless?'" quipped Torrey. "Because every time I read the paper, we're described as the 'Hapless Islanders.' It's as though 'hapless' is the only word in the English language."
There were silver linings in the clouds over Uniondale. Harris, the rookie right wing, was fulfilling his advance billing as a gifted scorer. Goalie Smith arrested attention with his fighting spirit.
"He loved to intimidate our guys during practice just to make it interesting," recalled Nystrom. "He'd come all the way out to the blue line and tackle guys coming in on breakaways."
The laughs ended with a look at the win-loss columns. After 25 games, the best Goyette & Company could manage was three victories. By the end of January 1973, Torrey got the easiest brainstorm of his managerial career. He decided to make a change on the bench to Earl Ingarfield.
Meanwhile, the embattled GM reached down to the club's farm team in New Haven and called up a pair of gritty forwards, Nystrom and Garry Howatt. Both were raw, but highly motivated to improve.
As for his team's long-term "foundation," Bill knew he had the first pick of the 1973 Entry Draft.
If anything was obvious that spring it was that Ottawa 67s defenseman Denis Potvin was the most cherished young prospect between here and Planet Krypton, wherever that might be. The incredible French-Canadian had already been labeled "The Second Coming of Bobby Orr."
Like any consummate bird dog, Devallano had done an intense scouting X-Ray of Potvin and told his boss to not even think about drafting anyone but Denis, calling it "a no-brainer."
Except that several WHA teams were after him while waving big bucks left and right. Competition from the new league had grown very intense, starting with Chicago's Bobby Hull jumping to Winnipeg.
Torrey knew he had to figure every angle to nab Denis. So in March he traded Terry Crisp to Philadelphia for Denis' older brother, Jean. If he had one Potvin on the roster, there would be a much better chance of wooing his kid brother.
To say the acquisition of Jean Potvin was an insightful move would be the understatement of the century. As it happened, Jean was Torrey's ace to help induce Denis to sign with the Islanders. What Torrey did not expect was Montreal Canadiens boss Sam Pollock urging him to take a pre-Draft stroll around NHL headquarters at the Mount Royal Hotel.
"Sammy wanted my draft pick and kept offering a few of his players for Denis," Torrey chuckled, "and there were some very interesting names. But I resisted the temptation and finally told him, 'Nothing Doing.'"
Bill was called to the microphone and finally said, "The New York Islanders wish to draft as their first choice – Denis Potvin."
With Denis securely in the fold, Torrey had to pursue the next quarry, a new head coach to replace Ingarfield. No one knew this at the time, but his choice would arguably wind up being the most important decision in franchise history.
The boss summoned Devallano into his office and revealed that he had a pair of candidates who appealed to him over any other contenders. Both were NHL players of repute who evolved into commendable coaches.
Torrey asked Jimmy D to choose between Johnny Wilson, a one-time NHL "Iron Man" and John McLellan, whose resume impressed the GM.
Devallano refused to commit himself. That bothered Torrey. "You obviously are having a problem with my guys," he said. "Why?"
Jimmy was shrewd enough to realize it was not good politics to put down his employer. On the other hand, Devallano also knew that this would be a test of Torrey's faith in him. He finally told Bill that he had time to judge another candidate, and that was Al Arbour.
Devallano knew Arbour first-hand from his days in St. Louis, where Al had transitioned from an elderly player to a young head coach. "Al's my guy," he said.
Torrey said, "I made my case for Wilson and McLellan and Jimmy made his case for Arbour. This gave me time to think it over, and I decided to at least meet Al."
Torrey went to interview Arbour, and was so impressed he offered him the gig. Al said, unequivocally… No.
Hockey wasn't the issue. It was geography. Al was his wife Claire had never been to Long Island and in their minds it was the same as New York City. The Arbours wanted a nice neighborhood for their young children. Torrey repeatedly invited them to come check Long Island out, but they were not interested.
Then while vacationing in Fort Lauderdale, Al and Claire befriended a random couple on the beach - a happy couple with children who spoke glowingly of their hometown on Long Island.
So Claire convinced Al to take a tour, and he returned with a rave review. To his surprise Long Island was "a land of milk and honey," or at least of trees, grass, fresh air and space.
The Arbour-Potvin combination paid dividends as the Islanders hit the half-way point of the 1973-74 season. The club’s record improved, and so did crowds at the Coliseum.
The proof was in the numbers. Radar reduced the team's goals-against from 347 in the maiden season to 247 a year later. "Imagine," grinned Al, "one hundred less goals in a year. I like that improvement."
Potvin played so well that he started in the All-Star Game. Meanwhile, Arbour's disciplined style and player-friendly approach worked wonders. Players reacted to Al with a blend of respect, fear and occasionally humor, since he possessed a keen sense of when to be tough and when to have a laugh. With this balanced persona, they knew he could relate to every player. Arbour had been played for three Stanley Cup-winners. Most importantly, he had a commanding presence.
When the curtain descended on the franchise's second year, the Isles had improved from 30 points to 56 points. Not surprisingly, Denis Potvin unanimously was voted the Calder Memorial Trophy as rookie-of-the-year.
Now that the Al Arbour Effect had taken hold, it was critical to maintain the momentum. Although the Isles knew they were set behind the bench, the roster needed some continued improvements.
Torrey continued to build. Chico Resch was promoted from the minors to provide goaltending support.
Offensively, Clark Gillies dazzled at left wing. The Isles’ number one pick in the 1974 Draft was an instant hit both physically and offensively. Gillies' pal, Bob Bourne, impressed with his speed, and was as tough as he was fast.
The Isles opened training camp in 1974 hellbent on making the post-season for the first time. Optimism rose after a trade with the Minnesota North Stars. Torrey traded Craig Cameron, Ernie Hicke and Doug Rombough in return for Jude Drouin and J.P. Parise. The deal instantly energized Arbour's offense.
The Islanders made their first playoff berth, and they would be meeting the rival Rangers in a best-of-three opening round.
"The 'comedy' has turned into serious drama," wrote Parton Keese in the New York Times.
The feeling among some critics was that a veteran-loaded, playoff-hardened team like the Rangers might even sweep the Isles in two straight.
"We've got to show the Rangers that we can go out into the Garden and give them a good game," said Gerry Hart.
That they did.
Trailing 2-0 in the third period, the Isles turned MSG into a morgue with three straight goals and left the quiet arena with a 3-2 victory.
The only noise came via the visitors' dressing room, where the elated Islanders repeated their newest mantra: "One more!"
"They're all going to be emotional games now," said Islanders defenseman Bert Marshall. "With two New York teams, it's got to be that way."
Game Two at Nassau Coliseum went the visitors' way, 8-3
"The Islanders lost their cool," said Rangers ace Rod Gilbert. "It's gonna be awfully tough for them to come back now."
Gilbert had a point. The decisive Game Three was slated for the Garden. The Isles took a 3-0 lead into the third period and appeared ready to wrap up the series.
But within 13 minutes of the third period the Blueshirts had tied the game, and then came perilously close to copping the winner.
But amazingly, Smitty blunted the continual attacks, forcing overtime.
Arbour began the sudden death period with Drouin, Westfall and Parise up front. The Rangers turned the puck over to Drouin while Parise sneaked to the left side of the opponent net behind defenseman Brad Park. He was all alone.
Jude released a slapshot-pass through the crease, by Blueshirts netminder Eddie Giacomin, and onto Parise's blade. The only Ranger in position to stop him was Park who was on second too late. In only 11 seconds the Isles had taken the game and the series.
"I thought we had won the Stanley Cup," laughed Denis Potvin.
The New York Times summed up the situation conclusively. "The Rangers never took the Islanders seriously – until it was too late."
From that moment on – 11 seconds of overtime in Game Three of the Stanley Cup playoffs on April 11, 1975 – the New York Islanders were to be taken seriously.
A tradition was born.