1967, April 15, in the fifth game of an engrossing Cup semi-final between the Leafs and Chicago Black Hawks. He replaces a shaky Johnny Bower in the second period of the fifth game with the best-of-seven series tied 2-2 in games, and this pivotal game tied 2-2 in goals.
The Hawks, in the noisy three-tiered cavern of Chicago Stadium, pressed in the first two minutes of the second period, clamorous action boiling around Sawchuk. Bobby Hull pivoted 15 feet to Sawchuk’s left, almost parallel to the goal, an impossible angle from which to score. Hull shot, hard and high. The puck struck Sawchuk’s left shoulder like a crowbar and knocked him down. Other players skated around the Toronto net, circling, looking, needling.
Pierre Pilote, the Chicago captain, crafty, canny, aimed his barbs. “How’d you feel, Terry? Should’ve let it go, Terry. Might’ve been a goal.”
The scene was caught, pinned forever in a reporter’s memory. Bob Haggert, the Toronto trainer, skidded across the ice from the Toronto bench to Sawchuk. “Where’d you get it, Ukey?”
Sawchuk, on his knees, “On my bad shoulder.”
Haggert, leaning down, “Think you’re okay? Can you stay in the game?”
“I stopped the fu(king shot, didn’t I?” Sawchuk struggled to regain his feet. “Help me up and I’ll stone those sons of b1tches.” He groped for his stick and gloves and, defiant, went to work.
It is a footnote in clutch exhibitions, how he went home again to glory, he stopped 36 shots in Toronto’s 4-2 conquest, frustrated the most insatiable shooters in the game, shut them out with the remnants of the young Sawchuk: down the glove, out the arm, over the stick, up the glove, shutting off daylight the shooters thought they saw — all in a kind of desperate epileptic action. You were left wondering who choreographed the most stylish goaler in the galaxy.” - Dick Beddoes - Hockey Stories
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