I was drafted by St. Louis and played 12 years in the NHL. I turned pro in ’76, and my wife knows exactly when I quit. It was just something out of the blue.
Jacques Martin was coaching St. Louis at the time, and Jacques Demers had coached a couple of years before. I was 31 years old, and they asked if I was inter- ested in coaching the team. Judy and I and the kids were going to drive down to Florida, and they wanted an answer right then. I said, “You’re not getting it right now.” I was 31, I’d just signed a new contract the year before, and coaching was the last thing on my mind. We spent a week in Florida and thought about it, and I ended up accepting the job.
It was an unusual year. I was obviously very aware that nobody had ever gone straight from playing to coaching, but I thought there were a lot of bonuses to it. I talked to guys like Al Arbour and Scotty Bowman, whose name I had heard every day from the time I got off the plane in St. Louis when I was 19. I had some good people like Emile Francis to lean on, and they thought that with the things I’d gone through and my knowledge of the situation in St. Louis, I would be fine. I knew we had a lot of work to do.
I ended up coaching four years there. In my second year we had only four original players left from one of the best teams. There were young guys who be- came really good players with us in St. Louis. We had a young Brett Hull and Adam Oates, and we signed Scott Stevens. We had a very good young team.
They thought they had a Stanley Cup contender, but the team was in the mid- dle of what we went through in Calgary, ownership moving around and uncertain in the direction they were going and disagreement within the group. We had seven or eight owners in my 12 years of playing there. They had just changed general man- agers and, as a result, coaches. It was an interesting scenario because we had to learn the rules of general managers and waivers, so I hired the most experienced people I could find to help as assistant coaches. Bobby Berry and Wayne Thomas had both coached a long time. I named the two son of a guns Oscar and Felix, and that’s exactly how they were. We were in a big room, and I put my desk right in front of them and pushed their desks against each other. Bobby’s side was upside down with papers, and he was smoking all the time, with holes in his shirt. We coached there together four years.
When I was done in St. Louis I was offered coaching jobs with 12 teams. It was really interesting. There were a lot of new teams coming into the league. I always thought it would be neat to work for an Original Six team, so when Harry Sinden called, we went to Boston. It was a similar scenario to St. Louis. They had just fin- ished two of their worst years in a row out of the last 25. In the three years after I ar- rived there were only two organizations that won more games than we did. Once again we rebuilt a team using eight or 10 rookies a year. We had a wonderful time. It was so different being with Harry. I absolutely loved those three years we had in Boston. If we could have stayed together and could have kept the kids together, we would have had a chance to win a Cup. We were among the three best teams in the league but the teams that beat us, like New Jersey and Detroit, were better. We spent three years there and then quit and came home for two years while I got the farm on its own two feet again.
When I was home for the two years I became a fan of the game again. I never realized how different I had been as a player until I was done playing. Everybody always said I was intense but I didn’t know what intense was. I had fun. I wanted to win and I would do anything to help my teammates and everybody in the room get it. We did it because we wanted to do it for each other. We didn’t want to let each other down. It was really neat when I came home because I could sit back and be a fan of the game again. When I played I always wanted to see people do well. I was cheering for them to do well. There are two different ways to watch a game: You watch it as a fan or you watch it like I do, as a coach. You never forget what a cer- tain player did at the 12-minute mark, who was on the ice and who came off. You never forget those things, and then when you play them again, you’re two changes ahead of those people all the time. But it was neat to be a fan again and watch the game and just let it happen.
The two years we were home in Alberta I coached AAA midget, and I remember saying to my brother Brent when he took over the Red Deer Rebels WHL team, “Teaching kids in junior is no different from the best teams in the National Hockey League. It’s fundamentals: Have fun coming to the rink, outwork the opposition, help the players to be as good as they can be.” I was talking to one of the best play- ers in the National Hockey League this morning. He’s a good friend and he’s look- ing forward to getting going again. He told me, “I never, ever forget when I’m down, just to be myself, and be as good as I can be.” It’s neat, whether you are a kid or you’re 14 or 16 you’ve got to enjoy what you’re doing and live every day right to the fullest. The fundamentals don’t change from peewee to bantam to junior to the National Hockey League. The team that executes the fundamentals and has the most fun doing them and understands that all your work is done in practice, usu- ally gets success. Preparing to win and preparing to be good, playing hard and practising hard are the keys. I always say good people make good players. Everyone needs direction. I take mine by listening and watching, and certainly not just from hockey, but being out by myself at 5:00 a.m. someplace and thinking about things.
What motivates and drives you? Why are you at the top of the NHL game and coaching elite players?
I want to win the last game. It’s like we always tell our players: “I want to win the last game of the year. I want to win the Stanley Cup.” Why else would you do something except to help people along the way? All the young guys went through it in Calgary and Boston, and the bottom line is if we’re going to lose a game they realize that all that has happened is the clock has run out on us. The other team’s always going to know they’re in a battle that night that they don’t want to be in again. With regard to the Calgary situation, obviously winning the Cup wasn’t the goal. The goal was to make them a better team and get them to the next level.
A coach is responsible for three things: preparation, conditioning, and disci- pline. Those three things could all come together, but before you win you’ve got to prepare to win, and to prepare to win you’ve got to motivate. Motivation is making a bunch of people want to play for each other together and not let each other down. The key word to that is accountability.
How do you motivate the people around you?
I always tell our teams it’s being accountable to yourself. I found out when I ar- rived in Chicago and our coaches had 10 things to do, that it wasn’t possible. I never realized I did this at the time, but on the farm I picked two or three things that we were going to do well every day. We were going to finish those before we went on to the next one, but you’ve always got to be prepared that some moose might run through the fence and break it down and you have to do something you didn’t expect to. In a hockey game if you’re always ready for the unexpected, you’re ready for anything that confronts you. Motivation is preparing to win, and it’s not a sometime thing; it’s an all-the-time thing. Then the discipline falls into place. You don’t walk in and click the light switch on. I found this out when you go on a losing streak. It just doesn’t click on; it comes over a period of time. You’ve got to reach people to motivate them. You’ve got to understand people. They’ve got to get to know you and you’ve got to get to know them. Most important, you’ve got to under- stand it’s not “I” and “me”; it’s “we.” I’ve told some very good general managers when they have asked my opinion of a player, that there is nothing that bothers me more than comments that people don’t like this or that player. I can honestly say I have been in the league 25 years and there are maybe one or two players that I don’t think are good for a team. I’d find it hard saying I don’t like them because that’s not right.
I can’t put my finger on what motivation is, but before teaching comes moti- vation, and before motivation comes reaching people. You’ve got to make people understand why they’re doing it. There have been times I’ve had to make even the best players in the game understand what leadership is. Everybody craves respect and discipline, but sometimes you’ve got to teach people how to do that, and when you make them understand, you can really help people. I guess you don’t realize it, but in a sense you really protect them and you understand them, and then they be- come a little bit more motivated. You might take responsibility away from them in some areas without them knowing it, but really what you’re doing is just making them relax and have fun.
How do you keep players at their peak level?
I always tell my players that it’s my job to make them play to their abilities as individuals every day, and it’s not measured in goals and assists.
How do you measure an individual player’s performance? Do you have criteria or a gut feel?
I think I have a gut feel because I really care for the game. I learned over the years as a player that if I don’t think a player is going to play well, he never does, so as a coach I tell my players, “I expect you to be the best you can be every night.” I understand there’s a lot of adversity coming into the picture—there’s the other team, fatigue, the referees, there might be injuries, there are people who are tired— but the bottom line is you expect them to be able to play up to their capabilities every night. The toughest thing by far for a coach is to get teams to play hard. There’s no other thing because most of the guys in the National Hockey League have skill. Some of their skill is to play hard, but nobody ever talks about that. They talk about skill as skate, pass, and shoot. Talking to the Al Arbours and the Bill Tor- reys over the years, I have often asked, “Is it God-given? Do we come out of the cradle that way?” I think that has a lot to do with it, but I know when people say it can’t be taught, they’re full of baloney. I’ve been around some people who have lost their way and didn’t know how to get there, and I have helped them under- stand how to get there. Once you get them to understand that, they feel pretty good about themselves, and then the sky’s the limit. It’s really special and really neat when that happens. I’ve gone through it with some of the top guys that everybody said couldn’t play. I’ve had two or three of them on every team, and even their or- ganization said they couldn’t play, but they do more than play. I say we’re not com- ing to play, we’re playing to win, but then I simplify it. I pick out some things that make us successful so things aren’t complicated.
You can teach people to be mentally tough, and that’s something you can lose just by the flick of a switch too. As a coach you have to make players understand that and want to be better, and then when you get them playing at their capability, be careful how you push them beyond it, but make them accountable. I always tell them after the game, “Let’s remember how hard it was, let’s remember how good we feel, and let’s remember how tired we are.”
I played 12 years and I never broke a curfew. Part of the reason was I thought everybody else kept the curfew, but as I got older, Jeez, there was hardly anybody that did it. Al Arbour told me, “Brian, people say you’re stubborn. You’re not stub- born. You just want to win.” It never changes, the way you want to win. Some nights you’ve got an “A” plan that everybody knows about, but I’ve always got a “B” plan ready to go to if “A” isn’t working, and I’ve always got a “C” plan, which I’m never afraid to go to. Al always said to be consistent, stick to your morals and val- ues, and always care for your team.
Lots of times it’s like raising kids. You’ve got seven people in your car, and you’re not going to keep them all happy. I’m lucky to have been with a lot of great people: Scott Bowman, Sam Pollock, Lynn Patrick, Dickie Moore, and Glenn Hall. We’re all good friends. Some of them aren’t with us anymore. They all say, “Just be yourself and be as good as you can. Don’t try to be something you’re not, but have fun doing it. Be honorable and don’t let your teammates down.”
Is the fear of losing more motivating to you than the joy of winning?
This is really tough to explain. There are two types of people in life: There are people who are afraid to fail, and there are some people who are afraid to succeed. I want to be around the people who are afraid to fail. If there was a war tomorrow I know I could make a few phone calls and get about 50 guys that I’ve played with who would jump on a plane and I’d enjoy going there with them because they’re afraid to fail. What that means is they are afraid to let other people down. They won’t let other people down. There are 20 players in front of me every night who say they want to win. That’s easy, but when you’re afraid to lose there’s something inside you. When Michael Jordan came back and played, his biggest motivating factor wasn’t that his dad died. He was afraid people would say that he couldn’t do today what he was doing yesterday. I can walk into a room with 20 guys, and I know who’s listening.
What if they’re not listening? What do you do?
There are a few players who go from team to team. People say they’re lazy and that they don’t care. There might be some who are like that, but most of them are just misunderstood and some of them have problems. To get to know people you’ve got to understand them. People don’t realize the intensity and pressure the players are under because they all want to succeed. I know the limits of their atten- tion span. When I am talking to them, I pick two or three important things that we have to look after for the game. It might be making sure we’re paying attention to you or not letting Al McInnis shoot the puck, but it’s not 10 things. That’s their preparation. Most of their preparation started at the morning skate. Once the game starts it just happens.
How long is that speech?
I keep it short. I don’t want to be in there any more than three or four minutes.
What happens when you turn your back on the dressing room and walk out?
Most of the time I know they’re ready. If you walk out and you know you’ve missed your point, or you’ve touched on it but you know that there are two or three guys who didn’t get it, then that’s why you have two or three coaches. For me there’s no such thing as an assistant coach or associate coach. They’re all coaches. They’re all important, and they can make sure the right message is getting through.
Is the pre-game speech important? Dave King said, “When I turn my back and leave, a healthy dressing room has more carriers than it has people that have to be carried.” What is your take on this?
That hits the nail on the head. You’ve got to have leaders in the dressing room.
You’ve got to win off the ice before you win on the ice. Your morning skate and your pre-game speech are the two big-time keys. You can’t win a game in your morning skate or in your pre-game speech, but you can sure lose a game in your morning skate and your pre-game speech. Again, that’s preparation, and that’s motivation. You’ve got to back off when you know the guys are ready in the morn- ing. After being a player you know when to back off and you know when to push. I know I can help teams win, help teams give themselves the chance to win. That’s the key. You’re an arrogant, ignorant coach if you say you’re going to make teams win, and yet at the same time, I’ve played for coaches who walk into the dressing room and read the pre-game speech off a piece of paper. Players read through that. It can’t be 10 minutes long.
My dream as a coach is to do two things. One of them I get across pretty well, and I don’t think any coach is going to get the other one. The first one is where we are totally prepared and we’re going to determine how it goes. It might not be being up 1–0 or 2–0, but hey, we’re going to determine it. The second one for me, and I don’t think it will ever happen, is where I could just stand behind the bench and not say a thing. I know I’m very organized. Every guy knows who’s up and who’s coming up, not just for us, but for them too, but to not have to say a thing, not one thing behind the bench, that’s my dream. I’m kind of like a duck. There are times I don’t think I’m moving, but I’m going like a son of a bitch underneath.
Is it different today to motivate players from the way it was in your day?
No matter what league, if you took your final two teams in the NHL, American League, the East Coast League, or at the Memorial Cup, essentially the morals, val- ues, and principles that they work on every day as a group are all going to be the same. They haven’t changed today from 1975 when I turned pro. We all have our own way of doing things, but the bottom line is if money is a motivating factor for them, I don’t want to be around those people. It’s one of the first things I say every year, and I said it as a player. I knew I was an older player and maybe making a little bit more, but I was no different from anybody else in that room. One of the first things I say as a coach is, “Empty your pocket at the door and leave your egos there, because the only ego that matters from here on in is ‘us’ and ‘we.’” “Yours” has to be involved in that “us” and “we,” but it’s not “I” and “me.” It’s called self-respect, and it means giving yourself respect. Respect and trust are the two most important words in life, really. Being accountable requires trust and respect, and that’s not just with your teammates. I always tell my kids, “Treat other people the way you want to be treated, and you’re not going to be too far out of line in anything you do.” That might be walking home after a game or driving down the highway and helping someone in need. Those aren’t important things; they’re just things that should get done.
From a motivational point of view, is the player the same because the standard is the same?
Really, the difference is the money. If only we could somehow take out of our mind that the average salary is $1.6 million. When I finished, it was $225,000. About 1985 salaries went from $125,000 to $225,000 to $875,000. The average of the top-end guys has come down a bit, but what I wanted in the years I played was the bottom-end guys to move up. I didn’t care about the top-end guys because they’re going to get it, whereas the guys at the bottom are the ones you’re con- cerned about. We went through more adverse situations than anybody in hockey in the 12 years I played. I went through years that I never got paid most of my salary. For years I was the only guy in hockey who didn’t have an agent. I did my own con- tracts in five minutes.
Why did you do your own contracts?
When I turned pro I signed for $30,000, $35,000, and $40,000 in ’79. I led the league in goals for a left-winger, and the average salary then was $125,000. I thought if I got $75,000 on my next contract I would be happy. Bernie Federko thought he was going to get $150,000, and he and his agent, Norm Caplan, nego- tiated all summer. It was 2,000 miles from the farm to the rink in St. Louis, and I only left two days before camp because when you were combining you couldn’t leave the farm earlier. I remember talking to Norm after the first night. He said, “You and Bernie aren’t going to camp.” I said, “Yeah, I’m halfway there.”
I drove into St. Louis about 7:00 p.m. that night. I was so excited about being in St. Louis. I’d been gone for the summer and I was 21 years old. I went upstairs to see Mr. Francis. It was my first time in his office, and he’s the president and gen- eral manager. He’s one of the gods in hockey, and he says, “Sit down, son.” I asked, “What’s the problem, Mr. Francis? I’m excited about getting going. I made some great changes, and we’re going to have a good team.”
He said, “There aren’t any problems. You just don’t have your contract signed. Write down on a piece of paper what you think you’re worth.”
I said, “You write down on a piece of paper at the same time and put it on the coffee table, and the deal is I’m going to read yours first.” I made $40,000 and I thought if I got $75,000 I’d be in heaven. The average was $125,000 in the league then. Bernie wanted $150,000. Mr. Francis writes on a piece of paper and opens the piece of paper up. Mr. Francis had written $75,000, $100,000, and $125,000. I thought, holy smokes, here I am at $40,000. I’d already written down $150,000 but I knew I wasn’t going to get it. From negotiating on farm equipment you know there’s some medium ground, so immediately I knew I’m going to get $100,000. He looked at my piece of paper, and I said, “Mr. Francis, I’m going to give you an- other piece of paper.” I wrote $125,000 three years in a row and said, “I’ll sign right now if you give me that.” He asked, “What about bonuses?” I said, “No, to me that’s real good. I don’t need bonuses.” It was that simple, and Bernie got his $150,000.
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