This book sat on my brain for a long, long time. It always seemed like a good idea, but the time never seemed right. In 2017, my friend and Sportsnet colleague Brad Fay loaned me a book called The Anatomy of a Song, the central thesis of which was that music couldn’t be considered iconic until at least twenty-five years after it was written. A generation to fully appreciate the quality, in other words. Well, it’s been twenty-five years since the Leafs and Kings played for the right to compete for the 1993 Stanley Cup. It was pretty clear the time was right to get this book off my brain.
So here we are.
My friend Phil Bingley, the editor at The Toronto Star who asked me to move from the general assignment pool to take over the Maple Leafs beat in 1989, was encouraging from the moment I brought this idea to him. He pitched in with some really useful research. Another colleague from The Star, awarding-winner writer Bill Schiller, was relentlessly positive, taking time to talk writing even when it took away from his own book project. When somebody that talented thinks you’re on to something, you stick with it. Sportsnet’s Rob Purchase went out of his way to track down the recordings of those seven games in May, 1993, not as easy to do as you might think. My friend Bob Borgen, well-known in Kings circles, took time to explain L.A. to me, and to give me a tour. My editor at Penguin, Nick Garrison, refused to let this project die, and rescued it from the disabled list several times. More important, he just kept demanding more. More from the story. More from me.
I owe a debt to those from those two teams who took time out to talk with me and share their memories and insights, particularly Marty McSorley, Bruce McNall, Doug Gilmour, Bill Berg, Wendel Clark, Kelly Hrudey, Barry Melrose, Kerry Fraser, Cliff Fletcher and Wayne Gretzky. Mike Murphy, the man with a foot in both camps, met with me countless times for coffee at his favourite morning hangout as I asked him every question under the sun.
Finally, my wonderful wife, Vicki White, never complained when I went into that book haze or took over the dining room table, and continues to insist against all available evidence that her husband is a skilled typist. My four children—Meghann, Delaney, Dawson and Leagh—once again all showed the unique skill to work around dad when he’s lost in thought. Or just a little lost.
All these people helped me write the book I long wanted to write, helped me try to do justice to a truly memorable sports story. For that, I will forever be grateful.
Damien Cox
June, 2018