Gou! Gou!

I ran into Michel Goulet at an airport a few years ago, and I was impressed, both by his career and his down-to-earth attitude. And then, while shooting Hometown Hockey in the spring of 2015, I spent some time with him again. We hit the bar with Olympic diver Alexandre Despatie and former NHL players Enrico Ciccone and Jason York, and Michel kept us laughing with his stories. But one of his most appealing qualities was his refusal to take credit.

In 1986, that quality got him in trouble. Montreal Canadiens hero Guy Lafleur had just retired for the first time, and the Quebec Nordiques had high hopes that Michel would be the new French-Canadian golden boy. A year earlier, Nordiques fans had been crying, “Gou! Gou! Gou! Gou!” every time the three-time fifty-goal scorer hit the ice. He ended the season with 104 points and was headed toward similar success in 1985–86, but his low-key style was rubbing Nordiques fans the wrong way. They were looking for some dash and dazzle, and the most Michel could muster after a big goal was to lift his arm.

The Nordiques brass begged him to celebrate his goals more—jump up in the air, hit the glass, hell, they’d settle for a fist pump. Michel scratched his head. He felt the idea was to score goals and win the hockey game. He told them, “I’m very happy on the ice. Obviously, if I have to crash the window every time I score a goal, I might hurt myself.” But he agreed to try to “spice up” his style.

He felt a little silly about it, but when he put the puck in, he’d jump a little bit and try to remember to smile. At first, it didn’t come naturally, but he scored so many goals that he got a lot of practice.

And then there was a game on March 17, 1986, against Montreal, who would go on to win the Cup that year. The Nordiques were losing 3–0 after ten minutes, and the Montreal fans were already singing. Coach Michel Bergeron called a timeout to put his team back on track. The Nordiques turned it around, winning 8–6. Goulet scored four goals and had two assists against Patrick Roy. After he put the last one in, Michel jumped in the air and allowed himself a little dance.

I wish I could speak French. Not much extends past “Voilà, Monsieur Thibault.” But it would be a shame if any part of Michel’s story got lost in translation, so with his blessing and help, it is best to let him tell it to you like he told it to me.

My hometown is Péribonka, Quebec. It is about three hours north of Quebec City. We had a rink outside, and when I start getting ready to play hockey, it was always with my brothers. I have seven brothers. I am number five, so it was easy to pick up a game somewhere.

My dad was a very nice man—until he had enough. With eight boys he had a good grip on all of us. His name is Jean-Noël. He was born on the twenty-third of December and baptized on the twenty-fifth. That is why his parents call him “Young Christmas,” but sometimes we laugh that he was no gift, that is for sure. I think maybe my mom, Alphonsine, was a bit more in control. She had a way to get things done. Overall, they were very good parents. They turn ninety in the summer, so we are going to have a nice little party for them.

That is where it all started—on our farm. We had cattle and potatoes for a long time, maybe twenty years. I didn’t work as much as some of the brothers because I would play peewee and bantam in a city about twenty miles away—Mistassini. It is a beautiful place. What happened there, the bigger-city scouts came over and they see a few games, and they ask me to join them. So I would play in two places, Mistassini—the big city—and with my little hometown team.

I just loved the game. One night, February 11, 1971, I was eleven years old. Everyone was watching Hockey Night in Canada. We were waiting for Jean Béliveau to score his five-hundredth goal, and then he score against the North Stars that night. My mother was imagining how many goals I want to score in the NHL. And I said, “I am going to score as many as Mr. Béliveau!”

In Mistassini, that is where they start a new league when I was fifteen years old. At that time, it was Midget C. They open a new arena in there, which gave us a chance to play inside. Every kid was so joyful. It was an unbelievable difference. But even better was to have the chance to play hockey outside and inside. That was really, really a great year.

That’s where one of the part-time scouts from the Quebec Remparts saw me play. His name was Jean-Paul Gimael. The guy sold me all year to the team. I think he thought I could do a lot of things on the ice, especially scoring goals, and I could make the play.

They followed me all winter to the junior draft, but no one knew at what round I’d get picked up—maybe second round, third round, maybe fourth round, I don’t know. So I went there and all of a sudden, number five! I got picked up first round. So I didn’t wait too long, that is for sure.

Our coach was Mr. Ron Racette. Mr. Racette was officially a tough man. That was the old-time hockey there. He was amazing. I learned so much under his wing. I only play a year and a half, but that’s where it all started. Before I went to training camp, I called the Quebec Remparts because my skates were not the best, and so I ask for a new pair. They said, “Well, come to training camp and we can go from there. We will take it slow.” So I show up with my skates maybe two sizes too big for my feet. I’m a size 9 and my skates were about size 11. I play with those skates for about two years. We were growing up all the time, and my dad bought us bigger sizes so we don’t have to buy another pair. At training camp, everyone is looking at my feet, and a couple of days later the coach said, “Hey, get him a new pair of skates!” And you know what? I improved my skating 30 per cent with the new skates.

I was a big shot going from Midget C to the major junior. But then I didn’t make my team at first! So I went back down to play Junior AAA in Beauport. At Christmas, one of the players of the Quebec Remparts said the coach was too hard on him, and he just left. Mr. Racette called me and said, “Come and play.” And that first game against Sorel, a big, tough team, we were losing 8–2 after two periods, but we won the game 9–8. I had three goals and three assists, so that is where Mr. Racette said, “You are not going to go down again, okay?”

The second year, everything came to me a lot easier. And that is where I had seventy-three goals, sixty-two assists and we made the playoffs. I had just a great year there. It was awesome. After the year, Mr. Gilles Leger, the general manager of the Birmingham Bulls of the World Hockey Association, came over to talk to me. The Bulls at the time, they signed Ricky Vaive, Rob Ramage, Craig Hartsburg, Gaston Gingras, Louis Sleigher, Pat Riggin the goaltender—a bunch of young guys, and he want me to be a part of it. I said, “You know what? I feel ready.” So I was eighteen when I move to Birmingham, Alabama.

It was a big, nice city down south. For me, the game is still the same. It doesn’t matter where you go, but I don’t speak English so it was interesting, for sure. The first day I was in a restaurant, it was an eye-opener. Sometime I would just point to things on the menu. Obviously, a steak is a steak, but to order it cook the way I like was very challenging. On the other side, it was fun. I was just laughing and enjoying the experience I was having.

Mr. Brophy, “Broph,” was the coach. He was a big teacher for all of us because we were all so young. First, he wasn’t playing me a lot—I was on the fourth line. Then one day we were practising. He did a drill and the first line go, and the second line go and the third line go, and he move to the middle to start the next drill, but he forget there is a fourth line. Our left winger is cutting to the middle, and I go for a little breakaway and I just friggin’ hit Brophy so hard, it was unbelievable. All I see is white hair flying in the air. He land on his elbow. I don’t know how many stitches he need, but ah, my God, I am so worried. He turn around and he look at me and he said, “Oh . . . you’re a strong boy!” He was such a hockey man. So at the end of the day, he move me up with Rick Adduono and Rick Vaive. At the end of the season, I had the most goals for the team and I can see myself progressing, getting better.

November 26, 1978, my first game for Birmingham against New England, we play against the Howe family, Gordie and his son, Marty. Well, Marty, he cross-check a player a couple of times, and so I was like, “Hey, hey, what are you doing?”

And he said, “Hey, you want to go?”

I’m like, “Okay.” If you knock at the door, I will open it up, you know? So I have a pretty good fight against Marty. I pumped him two good punches in the face and he goes down.

The next shift on the ice after my five-minute major, Gordie got kicked out of the draw and he stand on the right side of me. I’m like, “Hmm,” and I’m thinking about all the stories I have heard, so I move a couple of steps away from him. And I’m watching the puck when all of a sudden I get this stick in my rib and I’m on the ice. I’m thinking, “Oh my God, what happened?” And Gordie lean down to me and he says, “Don’t touch my son.” You should have seen the eyes on him. My God, that man had a dangerous air. What was he? Fifty years old at the time? I mean, I am eighteen years old, so wow, what do you do? I don’t slash him, I don’t spear him, I respect him. Look at what he did, what he accomplished and how long he play. He was a natural, he was big, and he was strong as a horse.

But he made me pay for two years until he retire. Two punches I had given to his son, and he fed me his elbows, knees and sticks. Twenty years later, when I got inducted into the Hall of Fame, my son Vincent was thirteen years old. He shake hands with Gordie and he says, “Mr. Howe, why did you spear my dad?”

And like it was yesterday for Gordie, he says, “Well, my son didn’t really know how to fight.”

The WHA had their young guys like us and Gretzky and Messier. They tried to force the NHL to merge with their teams in 1979. Four teams did that—Hartford, Quebec, Edmonton and Winnipeg. But Birmingham folded, and so that was interesting, that’s for sure. It mean the 1979 NHL draft was a big year. There was Rob Ramage, Mike Foligno, Ricky Vaive, Keith Brown, Craig Hartsburg, Perry Turnbull, Brian Propp, Laurie Boschman—everybody played that year.

Rob Ramage went first round. It’s always harder to find a good defenceman than a good forward. That is something that everyone knows in hockey. Rob Ramage had a great, great first year. He was built like a man already. He was nineteen years old and he was strong and he play a solid game.

I went number twenty, which is awesome. I mean, at the end of the day, it’s just nice to have the chance to be recognized by a team that wants you, you know? And so it happens that was the Quebec Nordiques.

I had an agent at the time who really wanted me to play for the Nordiques, and listen, I think he gambled a little bit. He said that I am not going to report unless I play there. But in my mind, I would be happy to report anywhere. If the Chicago Blackhawks draft me, sorry, I am going! But it was on his agenda a little bit and so after the draft I let him go. It was just politics and I didn’t want to be involved with that kind of stuff. So it looked like I was the bad guy. But at the end of the day, I had ten beautiful years in Quebec.

Jacques Demers was the coach the first year, and I learn a lot. He was an amazing man, a guy passionate about hockey and about life. I thought I had a pretty decent first year. He put me with the checking line all year, and I finish the season with twenty-two goals. He help me focus on offence and defence at the same time. In 1981–82, I tied with Wayne Gretzky for shorthanded goals. So me and Wayne, we’re practising our defence!

My second year, I play under Maurice Filion. He was the team manager and decide to coach a little bit. He didn’t last long. He was looking for a coach. Michel Bergeron came maybe a month later. He was my coach for six years after that.

Michel Bergeron had a totally different philosophy about hockey than Jacques Demers. Michel let the skill talk a little bit. We make the playoffs, and that was big news in Quebec. It was fun because of the storied rivalry between Quebec and Montreal. It got bigger and bigger and bigger every game. The Montreal Forum was always something really special, with the big history and the glamour that they have over there. In those ten years I was with Quebec, I thought those games were the best. They were the most intense.

In 1982–83 I have my career high, fifty-seven goals. The year after, I break the record for left wingers with 121 points. I was getting older, getting better and knowing more about players and what’s very important—about the goaltender.

I love to practise more than everybody. When I was nineteen, Marc Tardif, who was the leading goal scorer in the history of the WHA, he says, “What you’re going to do is you’re going to put sixty to sixty-eight pucks between the red line and the blue line, and then you’re going to go down the wing and shoot the puck, every single one of them before every practice.” And I did that for fifteen years.

I had some injury in January 1985 when there was a fight with Kevin Dineen, who was with Hartford. I could see my thumb was broken on my top hand, and I missed like, three weeks, but I was trying to find a way to come back as quick as possible. So I take my stick with me to the doctor and we set the cast around it. Now, I can play. I have a pretty decent year—around fifty-five goals, I think.

Dale Hunter, he was my centre for seven seasons. What an amazing passer and playmaker. He was a little bit the fuel of our team. Everybody knows he’s got three thousand minutes of penalties, but not a lot of people talk about his one thousand points. He played for a long time, and it was one of the saddest days of my life when they trade him in ’87. Me and Peter Šťastný at the time were on a line with Dale, and all of a sudden they trade those guys. And you realize that you’re getting older, but you don’t have much help coming down. The younger core was not there yet. So you see the Nordiques were having some bad years coming up. When they trade Dale to Washington, I was really doubting what they were trying to do. It was sad. He had given the team so much. I feel if they had hung on for a little longer, they would have won the Stanley Cup.

But you know, it’s funny, we made the deal and nobody expect a whole lot, and all of a sudden the next season we grab Joe Sakic. He come in to training camp and I look at him and I go, “Whoa! That’s a player!”

The whole time I am playing, maybe I have a little secret not too many are knowing about. My second year in Quebec City, the first game of the season, all of a sudden during the national anthem my heart started racing. I went back to the bench and it didn’t slow down. So I go back to the training room and I called to the doctor. He said to relax a little bit, maybe you are just nervous, you know? I calm down and go back to play. It’s not a heart attack, it’s just my heart. It keeps racing like once or twice a month.

The doctor, he was trying to figure out what was wrong, so I went through tests on the treadmill and with oxygen and the electrode stickers for the electrocardiogram, and they tell me I have atrial tachyarrhythmia. What it is, your heart starts racing for nothing. At the time, there was absolutely no cure for that besides taking medication. And that medication would put you to sleep pretty much, which is no good for a hockey player.

I learn that while I was playing, if all of a sudden my heart was racing, I would sit on the bench and press the jugular vein on the side of my throat for a minute or two and then press my fingers on my eyes, and that would make me calm down. The heartbeat for a professional hockey player might be forty-nine to fifty-four beats a minute, but there were times where I was on the bench trying to stop my heart from going all of a sudden over two hundred.

Sometimes, I would be on the bench and I would say to my coach, “Well, you know, I’m going to skip my turn.” And I’d go in the trainer’s room and relax a little bit, and when it would go back to normal, I’d come back and finish the game. But you don’t know when it is going to start, you know? Most of the time, it happen when the body got a hit, like if I fell down on the ice, or a big elbow or a bodycheck. It was a little bit of a problem, and each year it was harder and harder to get my heart to slow down. And at the time, not a whole lot of people knew what to do until ten years later, when I was traded to Chicago.

My second year in Chicago in 1991 at training camp, I just start the scrimmage and then all of a sudden I got hit, and I fell to my knee, and the pounding started—the heart. I go back on the bench and try to squeeze my throat and press my eye with the fingers and it won’t stop. So after five, six, seven minutes, I told my trainer, Mike Gapski, “It won’t slow down.” I went back to the room and tried to relax. He took my pulse and said, “Wow, you are at 220!’ After forty minutes, everybody start panicking, including myself. I am thinking, “Maybe it won’t stop!”

So they take me to the hospital, and this doctor in Oklahoma City, Dr. Warren Jackman, had a cure. To him, it is an electrical problem with the heart and he is a pioneer in fixing this, what they call atrial fibrillation. So he does what is called a catheter ablation procedure on me. It is a line through your groin and up to the heart to destroy a small area of the heart tissue that is causing my heart to go so fast. Personally, I was watching what was happening on a TV as they play with my heart for about four hours, and then after that, I said, “You know what? I’m tired,” and I go to sleep. They tell me when I wake up that the surgery took sixteen hours to finish.

I was back on the ice almost a week later. I didn’t miss any games, and I never had a problem with it since.

Mike Keenan was my coach in Chicago. I had played for him at the 1987 Canada Cup. In 1984 at the Canada Cup, Glen Sather was my coach. With Sather was the best time of my career because I play with Wayne Gretzky and Rick Middleton on a production line.

Mike Keenan in 1987 had a totally different approach. I was more like a checker than anything else, but it was great to have the chance to play with Mario Lemieux. He was my roommate for six weeks. That was an amazing time and filled with the pressure and the beauty of representing your country. For me, it was my Olympics, basically, because in those days professionals in hockey weren’t allowed to play in the Olympics.

The line in Chicago in 1991–92 was Jeremy Roenick, Steve Larmer and Michel Goulet. For me, it was probably one of the best lines in the NHL. I had some good lines in Quebec, but with this line I score my five hundredth goal on February 16, 1992. I score 499 on the road in San Jose, but we are back home and we are playing at Chicago Stadium against the Calgary Flames. It was such an amazing night. There was a breakaway, which is always special. And it was a dream because it was a little bit like the five hundredth goal scored by Jean Béliveau. I come down on the goalie’s glove side and it go in on the backhand. My mother remembered I told her I was going to do that when I was eleven.

We end up in the Stanley Cup finals against Pittsburgh that year. Jeremy Roenick was a young guy, just second or third year in the league, and he score fifty goals two seasons in a row. And Steve Larmer was like Hunter, a very, very underrated player. Never missed a game. There was no nickname for the line. I am thinking Roenick would call it “Roenick’s line.”

We had a very good team—Joe Murphy, Chris Chelios, Ed Belfour. Our problem we had was no Lemieux or Jaromír Jágr or Ron Francis. In the end, it was Mario who beat us. Mario was the key guy. He was just unstoppable. And Jágr was just a young guy coming in who was pretty unbelievable too. But it’s just nice to have a chance to win the Cup, you know? And that’s what we tried to do.

After five years in Chicago, I am thinking I have maybe three or four more years, but then there is an accident. I didn’t remember it until I saw it on TV three or four months later, but it was the toughest time of my career, no question.

I remember in the old Forum that the board was cement at the bottom. I was just going wide with the puck, looking for Roenick. He was going to the net, and I go to turn in, bringing my leg across my body. I’m five feet out from the board, and I am not sure what happen, but I lost balance and after that I woke up in the hospital. My eyes, they opened, but I don’t remember absolutely anything. That was a challenge. I was four weeks in the hospital there.

To show you the impact of how hard my head hit, the doctor, he says to me, “You hit the left side of your head and it was bleeding on the right side of your brain.” He said, “You know, a football helmet would probably help you a lot.” No question, but that is not going to happen.

He tells me, “The level of concussion you have, it is the worst. The next level you wouldn’t be able to breathe. But you’re alive.” So at the end of the day, I know I was lucky. But the brain it takes time to fix, and you need to refocus, recharge and obviously, not give up on yourself, because that’s the toughest part.

I was going back home to Chicago and struggling with my coordination and my memory and everything else. Three months later, I couldn’t even catch a baseball, I couldn’t bench-press thirty pounds. I was weak. I was walking and hitting the corner of the house. So I have to relearn how to live and move, and it mean you go slower. It’s not much fun, three or four months later, and you’re driving and you know you’re going to downtown Chicago, but you’re not sure to where. You forgot.

Physically, it was always easy for me, and now to go golfing and you miss the ball, but the worst was to get on the ice and fall down. That is a thing that will break your heart. What help me the most is the doctor saying to me what was going to happen, so I am not surprised. But I still get mad at myself. I learn to just sit down and try to refocus a little bit and try to stay as positive as I can. When I was in rehabilitation, there was a young boxer with me at the same time. One morning, he didn’t show up. He had taken his own life. And the doctor, she said, “Michel, that’s the thing that scares me the most, when I get that phone call. Sometimes you just have that two or three minutes of weakness, and what you do to yourself could be forever.”

I don’t know if you can have a worse way to hit a board, but at the end of the day I’m sure you can have a worse injury. But the fact is, I’m alive and have function and am working as a scout for the Calgary Flames. That, for me, is a blessing. For sure, I can have tough days. When I think about a lot of things that happen in hockey and the head injuries that’s going on now, you need to be strong. I know I’m going to make mistakes, but it’s not going to kill me, you know?