Montreal dating coach Seks pos
Two years later, Meger had just turned 24 when his name was hammered onto the Stanley Cup.
A year and a few months later, his skull cracked and his brain gravely sliced by another player’s skate, Paul Meger would be given up for dead.
“They stitched me up and I would have gone back out there,” Meger says, “but Béliveau came over to the bench and said, ‘There’s blood all over the ice,’ and Irvin told me, ‘Son, you’d better take off your equipment.’ ” By the time Meger reached a Montreal hospital—after the long, jostling trip by rail from Boston—it was clear that Labine’s skate had sliced into the brain itself, some of which was oozing through the wound.
“The last time I looked at our Stanley Cup picture,” says Masnick, who registered one goal in the finals that year but played only four full seasons in the six-team major league, “there were only four of us left.Wilder Penfield, the most eminent neurosurgeon of the age.“He told me, ‘I’m going to take out a little piece of your brain, like a hen’s egg,’ ” Meger recalls. If they knew, they’d say, ‘Look how slow that guy is walking.I don’t even think about because it’s so depressing.” “Everybody’s gone,” Masnick says. I walk down the street and people pity me ‘cause I’m so old.
I go on the bus and people get up and give me their seat but I don’t need it.
But deregulation has always been followed by consolidation.