Welcome to the Deep Dive. We've got a really
fascinating stack of historical notes sitting
right here on the table today. And our mission
for this one is to travel back to the 1959 -60
NHL season. Oh, it is such a good one. It really
is. We are looking at a very specific 70 -game
six -team stretch that honestly served as a massive
turning point, not just for the mechanics of
the sport, but for sports media, locker room
culture, and... The entire concept of player
safety. Yeah, absolutely. So if you're listening
and you follow hockey history, you probably know
the broad strokes when we talk about goalies,
glory in the original six era. But digging into
the granular details of this specific season
reveals a league that is just. It's stretching
at the seams. It's caught right between its gladiator
past and its modern future. Right. It operates
as a perfect microcosm of organizational change.
I mean, we are looking at the 43rd season of
the league. So running from October 1959 to April
1960, you've got Montreal, Toronto, Chicago,
Detroit, Boston, and the Rangers. It's a classic
lineup. Exactly. But what anchors this specific
year, and I think this is just a wild piece of
trivia, is the roster composition. This 59 -60
campaign marked the very first time in the original
six era where every single active player in the
league had only ever played for an original six
franchise. Because the last holdout had just
retired, right? Yes, Ken Mosdell. He had ties
to a defunct franchise, but he retired the previous
year. So now... The purity is absolute. Okay,
let's unpack this. Because that roster detail
completely recontextualizes the environment for
you as a listener. You have just six teams, 70
games. That means every single team is playing
the exact same five opponents 14 times a year.
14 times! Think about that. And now there is
zero outside blood. Every player on the ice was
born and bred within this specific, highly concentrated
six -team ecosystem. The rivalries aren't just
historical at this point. They are deeply, uncomfortably
personal. It's pure claustrophobia. Imagine the
claustrophobia of that workplace. You were facing
the exact same defensemen, the exact same goalies
week in and week out. The grudges just compound.
You can't escape anyone. You can't. And the tactical
adjustments are microscopic because there are
no unfamiliar systems to exploit. It's a hermetically
sealed environment. And in that kind of pressure
cooker, the cream doesn't just rise to the top.
It suffocates everything else. Which brings us
directly to the Montreal Canadiens dynasty. Suffocating
is definitely the right word for them. Montreal
was in the middle of five straight first overall
finishes in the regular season. They're chasing
their fifth straight Stanley Cup. Unstoppable.
They finished with 40 wins, 18 losses, 12 ties,
92 points, which was 13 clear of second place
Toronto. But the number that really jumps off
the page in these notes, the plus 77 goal differential.
Yeah, that is staggering. Right. In a league
where you play the same five teams 14 times,
posting a plus 77 means you aren't just winning
games. You are systematically breaking the will
of your peers. They were playing chess while
the rest of the league was stuck playing checkers.
Montreal had constructed a roster that could
just dictate the pace of every single shift.
But, you know, the contrast to that dominance
is just as compelling. Look at the Detroit Red
Wings. Oh, completely night and day. Exactly.
Montreal is this well -oiled machine. But Detroit
had finished dead last the previous season. It
was a complete organizational collapse. Yet,
in this 59 -60 season, they climb out of the
basement and secure the fourth and final playoff
spot. And they essentially did it on the back
of Gordie Howe. Entirely on his back. At a point
in his career where the Miles really should have
been catching up to him, he puts up 28 goals
and 45 assists. 73 points. It was a masterclass
in sheer will, and it turned into Gordie Howe's
legendary heart trophy campaign. He won his fifth
MVP. And look at the voting spread on that. He
received 118 out of a possible 180 votes. Which
literally doubled the total of the runner -up,
Bobby Hall. Right. Earning double the votes of
a prime Bobby Hall speaks volumes about how the
voters viewed Howe's value. He wasn't just a
point producer. He was the structural integrity
of the Detroit franchise. Without him, they are
a basement team. With him, they're a playoff
contender. And there's a cool piece of hardware
history attached to that win, too. This season
was the final time the original Hart Trophy was
awarded. Oh, right. Yeah. After Howell won it,
the physical trophy was retired to the Hall of
Fame, and the league introduced the Hart Memorial
Trophy. Howe essentially closed the book on the
original era of the award. That's a great detail.
But, you know, while Howe is securing his legacy
in the record books, the most visceral, game
-altering moment of the season happens over in
the crease. November 1st, 1959. Yes. The night
Jacques Plante debuted the first goalie mask.
Up to this point, goaltenders were absorbing
blistering shots with absolutely nothing but
their bare faces. Which is just insane to think
about today. It is. But Planté had a documented
history of asthma, and he'd had a sinus operation
back in 1957. Since that surgery, he had actually
been wearing a rudimentary fiberglass face mask,
but strictly during practice. Because his coach
wouldn't let him wear it in the game? Exactly.
Toe Blake hated it. And then, on November 1st,
the inevitable happens. Planty takes a shot straight
to the face from Rangers right winger Andy Bathgate.
It breaks his nose, cuts him wide open, sends
him bleeding to the dressing room. He gets stitched
up, but then he issues a hard ultimatum to Toe
Blake. He refuses to return. Yeah, he says he
will not go back to the ice unless he can wear
that fiberglass mask. Now, let me play devil's
advocate here for a second, just to put you in
the mindset of 1959. Okay, go for it. We look
back at Toe Blake's bitter resistance to the
mask as pure, stubborn machismo. But from a coaching
perspective back then, wasn't Blake at least
somewhat justified in his concern? You have a
goalie strapping a thick piece of fiberglass
over his eyes. Peripheral vision is critical
for tracking the puck at your feet. What's fascinating
here is that you are absolutely hitting on the
exact tactical argument Blake used to justify
his stance. You thought it made him a worse player.
He argued that the mask would create blind spots,
especially when looking down in a scramble. But
we also have to acknowledge that the tactical
concern was heavily wrapped in the cultural expectation
of the era. The gladiator ethos. Precisely. The
NHL was built on this idea that showing pain
or taking preventative measures to avoid pain
was a weakness that opponents would exploit.
Blake was managing a psychological warfare unit
just as much as a hockey team. But his leverage
completely evaporates because of the roster rules
of the time. Teams didn't dress a backup goaltender.
Yep, you just had the one guy. So when Plante
says, I'm not going back out there without the
mask, Blake looks down the bench and sees empty
space. He has no alternative. He has to cave.
And Plante states out with a mask, and what follows
is the ultimate proof of concept. It's one of
the most remarkable streaks in sports history.
He goes undefeated in his next 10 games. 10 games.
He doesn't just survive, he thrives. He completely
dismantles ToeBlake's tactical argument. He proves
that protecting your face and removing that flinching
instinct actually improves your peripheral tracking
because you are no longer bracing for facial
trauma. He plays 69 games that season, posts
a league -best 2 .54 goals against average, and
wins his fifth Vizina trophy. It forces the rest
of the league to reckon with their own outdated
traditions. When you see a guy go undefeated
while breaking the unwritten rules, suddenly
the unwritten rules look - Pretty foolish. It
really highlights how organizational change usually
starts with someone willing to be the lightning
rod. You have to take the heat. Absolutely. Now,
while Montreal is setting the standard for innovation
and dominance, the New York Rangers are providing
a masterclass in total dysfunction. Wow, it's
a mess. It really was. We have to talk about
the backstage drama of the New York Rangers because
they finished dead last with 17 wins. And the
chaos behind the scenes is relentless. Yeah.
Coach Phil Watson. literally develops a stress
ulcer. He had to step down. Yeah, Alf Pike took
over. Quietly replaced by Alf Pike. But the situation
with their goaltender, Gump Worsley, is where
the organizational chaos truly peaks. Right.
So management decides they need a shakeup. They
demote Worsley to their AHL affiliate, the Springfield
Indians. Worsley is a proud, established player,
and his reaction is explosive. He screams out
that he is finished with hockey. I quit. Yeah,
he publicly declares it. And it's such a relatable
human moment. He screams, I quit. And then after
the anger subsides, he quietly packs his bags
and reports to Springfield anyway. We've all
had those moments. You want to dramatically walk
out the door only to realize you still need the
paycheck. Exactly. But the irony of his demotion
is who he ends up playing for. The Springfield
Indians were owned by Eddie Shore. Oh, man. Eddie
Shore, historically feared for his draconian
management style, brutal treatment of players.
You would expect Worsley and Shore to clash instantly.
But they don't. No. Shore actually gives Worsley
a massive vote of confidence. He treats him with
respect, and Worsley responds by playing excellent
hockey in the minors. Meanwhile, back in New
York, the Rangers' situation deteriorates even
further. Worsley's replacement, Marcel Pye, struggles
immensely. So the Rangers have to swallow their
pride and call Worsley right back up. And the
timing is incredible. January 3rd. First game
back, Worsley leads the last place Rangers to
an 8 -3 victory over the unstoppable Montreal
Canadiens. It's a cinematic comeback. It is.
But because they are the 1959 Rangers, the triumph
is totally fleeting. A few weeks later, Montreal
retaliates and absolutely obliterates Worsley
and the Rangers 11 -2. And the volatility of
his season takes a very dark turn shortly after
that. During a game against Chicago, Bobby Hall
skates over Worsley's catching glove. The blade
severs two tendons in Worsley's fingers, instantly
ends his season in just a gruesome fashion. The
Rangers are forced into this chaotic scramble
just to patch the hole in the net. And the visceral
danger of Worsley's injury connects directly
to this growing showing undercurrent of frustration
among the players. You have Plante protecting
his face, Worsley getting his tendons severed,
and players are realizing that the league's gladiator
culture is physically breaking them. Which brings
us back to Andy Bathgate. The same Rangers player
whose shot broke Plante's nose. Yes. Bathgate
decides to take aim at the culture of the league,
but he skips the locker room and goes straight
to the national press. In January 1960, he ghostwrites
an article with Dave Anderson for True magazine.
And he does not pull punches. He explicitly lists
the names of NHL players he accuses of spearing.
Now, for you listening, spearing isn't just aggressive
checking. It is a predatory act, using the blade
of the stick as a weapon. And by taking this
to a national magazine, Bathgate, who is the
defending MVP, by the way, breaches the ultimate
unwritten rule of the era. You do not air the
Brotherhood's dirty laundry to the public. The
response from NHL President Clarence Campbell
is incredibly revealing about the era. Campbell
doesn't launch an investigation into the dangerous
play. He attacks the whistleblower. He fines
Bathgate $500. Fines Bathgate $500, hits Rangers
GM Muz Patrick with a $100 fine. And Campbell's
official reasoning was that the article was prejudicial
to and against the welfare of the league. The
welfare of the league. That phrasing tells you
everything about the power dynamics in 1960.
It didn't mean the physical safety of the assets
on the ice. It meant the preservation of the
tough guy image that sold tickets. Campbell was
protecting the brand, not the players. But between
Planty's mask and Bathgate's article, the foundation
of that old school mentality was cracking. the
players were beginning to realize they had a
voice. They were demanding accountability for
their own survival. It's a fascinating cultural
pivot. But amidst all this off -ice drama, the
actual on -ice product was delivering incredible
offensive storylines. The Boston Bruins are a
great example here. Yeah, they narrowly missed
the playoffs, falling just short of Detroit.
But they were arguably the most entertaining
team to watch because of the Uke line. Johnny
Busick, Vic Stasiuk, and Bronco Horvath. The
offensive output from that line was staggering.
Bronco Horvath put together a phenomenal campaign.
39 goals, 41 assists for 80 points. He was neck
and neck for the scoring title the entire season.
And he ultimately finished a razor -thin second
to Chicago's Bobby Hull, who posted 81 points.
A single assist separated Horvath from the Art
Ross Trophy. which Hull claimed for the first
time in his career. Boston wasn't just relying
on Horvath either. Don McKinney was orchestrating
the offense, led the lead with 49 assists, and
picked up the Lady Bing trophy. But as we talk
about these thrilling offensive races, it makes
you wonder how the fans of the era actually digested
this information. In 1959, you can't just pull
up a highlight on your phone. Or flip to a dedicated
sports network. The media landscape profoundly
shaped how the sport was consumed. In Canada,
Saturday nights meant hockey night in Canada
on CBC television. But the broadcast technology
and scheduling constraints meant they didn't
even show full games. They joined in progress,
right? Yes. Fans tuning in would typically join
the broadcast in the second period. You relied
heavily on radio to fill the gaps. It wasn't
until the late 60s that full games became the
standard on TV. Joining a game in the second
period completely changes your relationship with
the tension of the sport. You miss the establishing
tone of the first period. You are essentially
walking into the middle of a movie every Saturday
night. And if you lived in the United States,
the situation was even more fragmented. The lead
had a four year deal with CBS to broadcast Saturday
afternoon games. But CBS only aired them from
January to March. They completely ignored the
first half of the season. And then following
this 59 -60 season, CBS dropped the contract
entirely. The NHL found itself without a national
television network in the United States until
the 1965 -66 season. They went dark on a national
scale for half a decade. It's wild to consider
how localized the sport was. Today, we treat
professional sports as these omnipresent global
entertainment monoliths. But in 1960, if you
were a fan in New York or Chicago, the NHL was
a highly regional product. The drama of Worsley's
demotion, Planty's mask, Bathgate's fines, it
was mostly digested through local newspaper columns
and radio broadcasts, which really makes the
intensity of the playoffs feel even more mythic.
Oh, absolutely. Yeah. Which brings us to the
postseason. The top four teams advance. First
place Montreal draws third place Chicago, while
second place Toronto faces fourth place Detroit
in the semis. And that Toronto -Detroit series
provided the requisite grit and marathon endurance
you expect from playoff hockey. Game three in
Detroit is the perfect example. Detroit's Jerry
Melnick manages to tie the game late in the second
overtime, pushing both teams to the brink of
physical exhaustion. But in the third overtime
period, Toronto's Frank Mahavlich finally ends
it at the three -minute mark, securing a 5 -4
victory. Toronto eventually grinds out the series
four games to two. A brutal, heavy series. But
over in the other bracket, Montreal is operating
with surgical precision. It's not just that they
beat Chicago, they dismantled them. Game one
is a tight 4 -3 win. Game two goes to overtime,
another 4 -3 win. But by game three, Plante and
the Montreal defense have completely mapped out
Chicago's attack. They shut the door. Game three
is four to nothing. Game four is two to nothing.
Montreal sweeps the Blackhawks right out of the
building. The psychological toll of facing that
Montreal team must have been devastating. You
push them to overtime. You give them your best
tactical effort. And they still find a way to
win. And then they adjust and suddenly you can't
even get on the scoreboard. And they carry that
exact same momentum into the finals against Toronto.
Toronto just survived a grueling six -game war
with Detroit. And their reward is a fully rested,
absolutely... dialed in Montreal squad. And the
results are clinical. Game one, four to two.
Game two, two to one. Game three in Toronto,
Montreal takes it five to two. And then game
four on April 14th, Montreal drops the hammer.
Shama Blavot scores twice. Doug Harvey and Henri
Richard add goals. And Jacques Plant posts the
four to nothing shutout. That is a flawless Stanley
Cup playoffs run right there. Eight games played
in the postseason. Eight games won. It remains,
over six decades later, the last time a team
has gone completely undefeated in the Stanley
Cup playoffs. It is the absolute zenith of a
dynasty, and it provided the perfect exit for
an icon. Following that flawless run, Maurice
Richard announced his retirement. Left the game
having accomplished the rarest feat in sports.
walking away at the absolute peak of team dominance
with no lingering questions. What a way to close
a career. When you look at the totality of this
season, it really is a pivot point. You have
the retirement of legends, an untouchable playoff
record, and the undeniable introduction of safety
equipment. If we connect this to the bigger picture,
the 1959 -60 season is defined by the concept
of taking ownership. Montreal took ownership
of the league's competitive standard. But more
importantly, The players started taking ownership
of their own survival. The armor literally and
metaphorically went on. Jacques Plante strapped
fiberglass to his face, and Andy Bathgate used
a national magazine to demand accountability.
They stopped accepting the premise that their
bodies were just expendable commodities for the
welfare of the league. And that is a powerful
takeaway for you listening right now. When we
read these historical notes, it is so easy to
view a goalie putting on a mask as inevitable
progress. But in the moment, progress almost
always looks like rebellion. It looks like insubordination.
Sometimes moving your industry forward requires
you to be the one willing to stand your ground,
take the inevitable criticism, and put on the
mask when your boss is screaming at you to take
it off. Exactly. It requires a willingness to
weather the storm of shifting the status quo.
Planty faced immense backlash for simply wanting
to protect his face, a concept that seems absurdly
obvious to us today. Right. It makes you wonder.
What essential traditions in your own industry
or daily life right now are actually just outdated,
dangerous habits waiting for someone brave enough
to put on a mask? That is a phenomenal thought
to leave on. Questioning the traditions we just
accept as normal. Thank you so much for joining
us on this deep dive into the source material
today. Keep questioning the status quo. Keep
looking for those unseen tipping points. And
we will catch you on the next one.