In the idyllic days before the Great War, journalists viewed Hobey Baker as the embodiment of America—or at least of what they thought America should be. The golden-haired Princeton star athlete was as handsome as he was talented, as noble as he was fearless, as daring as he was cunning. With his lion’s heart and poet’s soul, he was bursting with confidence, yet stardom humbled him in a way that no one quite understood. Hobart Amory Hare Baker was the favorite son for whom all Americans longed. Whether returning a punt or flying up the ice with the puck on his stick, Baker persevered with a passion and courage that hadn’t been seen on college campuses before he arrived at Princeton in 1910.
Newspapers weren’t content to merely report Baker’s hockey and football ex- ploits; they glorified them through headlines and prose that brought romance and idealism to all that he accomplished. To the media, Baker was an artist whose runs with the football or dashes with the puck were like lines of poetry to be savored and enjoyed. They were smitten with Hobey Baker like amorous teenagers doting upon first loves.
“If it is possible to say of any man that he was beautiful, it may be said of Hobey Baker because he was beautiful of body, soul, and spirit,” New York Herald Tribune writer Al Laney wrote more than 40 years after Baker had graced Princeton’s ice.
During football season, sportswriters referred to Baker as the “blond Adonis of the gridiron.”
Baker may have been the model for the All-American boy. He was F. Scott Fitzgerald on skates, minus the highbrow cynicism. Novelist Fitzgerald was actu- ally Baker’s contemporary at Princeton. It is believed that the Allenby character in Fitzgerald’s first novel, This Side of Paradise, is modeled after Hobey Baker. Fitzger- ald presumably dressed down Baker slightly for his work of fiction, because Baker was almost too flawless for a good fictional tale. Baker dominated college hockey from 1910 to 1914 the way Wayne Gretzky dominated the NHL in the early 1980s.
At a time when America had finally grown accustomed to flying machines roaring overhead, Baker’s skates must have seemed as if they were powered by warp drive. He was a dazzling skater with speed that amazed those who witnessed it for the first time. When the puck found the blade of his stick and he began his trek up the ice, a buzz would move through the crowd, as if they were about to wit- ness magnificence born before their eyes.
The rules of seven-man hockey were perfect for Baker’s talents. With no forward passing allowed, Baker, playing rover, had license to carry the puck coast-to-coast many times during the game. As a youngster, he had perfected his stick handling by practicing on darkened rinks. The puck clung to his stick as if attached by a magnet.
The Boston Herald couldn’t have imagined the level of talent that players such as Gordie Howe, Rocket Richard, Wayne Gretzky, and Mario Lemieux would bring to hockey in coming years. But at the time, the newspaper unabashedly called Hobey Baker “the greatest hockey player who ever lived.”
Baker played hockey and football in much the same way—with an open throttle and a refusal to recognize that his playing style might be dangerous. In 1912 he was named an All-American halfback, putting him on the same team with the legendary Jim Thorpe. Like Thorpe, Baker was also an accomplished drop-kicker whose skill was invaluable in an era where the forward pass was just becoming a part of foot- ball strategy. His kicking skill resolved several gridiron stalemates in Princeton’s favor.
Baker’s daring style was most apparent as a punt returner. Sure-handed and un- afraid, he would stand well beyond where the punt would come down to assure he could be in full gallop when he cradled the ball in his arms. Fans would gasp as the ball, Baker, and the defensive ends would all arrive virtually at the same time. More often than not, Baker would elude his would-be tacklers and dart to the outside for a touchdown romp or long gainer. Sluggish offenses were the norm in that era; hence, Baker had plenty of opportunities to dazzle crowds with his unique and ex- hilarating punt-return style.
That bravado also showed on the ice when he attempted to stick-handle through defenders, most of whom would resort to physical attacks to slow him down. The news accounts from that era make frequent references to Baker jumping over sticks and legs to fill the opposing net. One report claimed Baker had 30 of Princeton’s 42 shots on goal in a game against Yale. Even the elitist New York Times often waxed poetic about Baker. Describing his performance as a rover in a 7–5 win against Yale on January 17, 1913, an unnamed correspondent for the Times said that Baker “was all over the rink skimming up and down the ice like a shadow.”
That game had been tied 5–5 at the end of two regulation 20-minute halves. In the extra period, Baker scored a goal with a spectacular end-to-end dash, during which “he carried the puck to every part of the ice surface without being stopped.”
“Baker had regained his second wind and he started as dazzling an exhibition of skating as had ever been seen on the rink,” the unnamed correspondent wrote. “He started a series of zigzag dashes across the rink…. He was going so fast that the Yale players went down before him.” He was clearly like no athlete reporters had ever seen, yet their fascination seemed to transcend his skill. They were disarmed by Baker, intrigued by him.
Baker was a well-spoken lad when he arrived at Princeton in 1910 after estab- lishing himself as a schoolboy legend at St. Paul’s School in Concord, New Hamp- shire. He was well trained at St. Paul’s because the school’s coach was Malcolm Gordon, now a member of the U.S. Hockey Hall of Fame. Gordon is viewed as an American hockey pioneer who helped formalize the game in the U.S., because he wrote out the first set of rules in 1885. Early accounts of Baker’s athletic successes at Princeton speak of a “twinkle in his eye” and an impish grin that no doubt served him well whether he was wooing the ladies or charming professors, who probably were as fascinated with him as the rest of the Princeton campus.
Born into Philadelphia high society, Baker arrived at Princeton with a well- defined set of values and ideals for his athletic involvement. During four years of hockey at Princeton, he had only two minor penalties, despite the fact that he was manhandled, roughed, and whacked with sticks in almost every game. Most opposing teams correctly figured that the way to stop Princeton was to stop Baker, and some teams resorted to tactics that were on the outside edge of the rule book. But to the astonishment of his teammates, Baker never retaliated. No matter how rough the contest, he shook opponents’ hands after games.
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