The Colorado/Denver Rangers were a minor league hockey team in the late 1980s, and I had the joy of being their photographer. At the time, I was working at Woolworths and looking for a way to supplement my income. Photography was the perfect creative outlet. I was also working for the University of Denver’s athletic department, which gave me the chance to meet and work with some incredibly talented athletes—many of whom would go on to become stars in the NHL.
I didn’t travel with the Rangers, but on a few occasions, I had the opportunity to cover games in other cities. One of my favorite places to visit was Salt Lake City, home to a team in the International Hockey League (IHL). I especially loved the New Year’s games in 1988. In Denver, I had access to much of the glass for shooting photos, but in Salt Lake City, my only option was the penalty box. I wasn’t thrilled about the limitation, but I made the best of it. The one silver lining? Back then, the penalty box door didn’t have glass, which meant I had a clear, unobstructed view of the ice.
That season, the Salt Lake City team was celebrating its 20th anniversary, and they had special commemorative pucks made for the occasion. The catch? The only way to get one was if it flew over the glass and landed in the stands. Not even the players were allowed to keep them. According to the team, the owner was a notorious cheapskate who had only ordered a single case of the pucks. I really wanted one, but sitting in the penalty box meant I had no chance of getting my hands on one—since the spare pucks were kept in the other box.
One night, I was talking about this with Salt Lake City defenseman Rick Hayward. Rick was a tough guy, but I liked him—he was a genuinely good person. He told me about the owner’s penny-pinching ways and the puck shortage, then casually said, “Pay attention during the game.” His words were cryptic, and I didn’t think much of it—until the second period.
Rick was skating down the ice, and as a defenseman, he often dumped the puck in from the red line. As he approached, I suddenly heard my name. I turned just in time to duck as a puck came flying into the penalty box, rattling around before coming to a stop.
I reached down to hand it to the penalty box official, but he shook his head and said, “Since it left the playing surface, it’s yours.”
A moment later, I heard Rick explaining to the referee that he had just missed his shot, causing a face-off outside the red line. As he skated past me, he grinned and said, “There’s your puck!”
It turned out he had even given the penalty box official a heads-up about his plan.
That puck—pictured in this post—is one of my most cherished keepsakes. Just like the years I spent as a photographer, it’s a reminder of an unforgettable time in my life.