April 11, 1945: Detroit, MI:
April of 1945 was a bitter month for the Detroit Motors hockey club. The disappointment of missing the playoffs weighed heavily on their shoulders, especially on head coach Jack Barrell. Despite having a talented roster and enjoying good regular season success for six consecutive years, the Motors had watched another team raise the Challenge Cup trophy while they fell short of glory. Club owner Junior Connelly was furious and determined to lay blame on someone.
Wednesday, April 11 was a gloomy morning in Detroit. Junior had summoned Jack for a meeting and Jack was all too aware that the tone of the meeting would not be a pleasant one. At breakfast Marie tried to cheer Jack up - she'd received a letter from Agnes, telling her that she'd seen James but in Aggie's typical fashion, was light on details. "She only writes because she knows you worry about her," Jean told her mother. Vera chuckled and added, "We should be glad she even does that much." Jack nodded in agreement; Agnes was certainly more like her father Jimmy - temperamental and impulsive - while Jean and Vera, Jack's own daughters, were more level-headed and sensible than their half-sister.
Jack rose and pecked Marie and his daughters on the cheek. "I'm off," he said. "Wish me luck, I could be unemployed by lunch," he added with a scowl as he popped his hat on his head and grabbed his jacket.
While driving to the team offices Jack ruminated on the winding road of his friendship with Junior. He'd left a perfectly good and comfortable job with the Toronto Dukes and turned a moribund franchise in Detroit around. But Junior had begun meddling in personnel matters, which Jack typically handled with the help of Bill Yeadon, quite possibly the best hockey scout in the world. But Junior signed the checks and his word was law.
When Jack walked into Junior's office his friend didn't even look at him, saying simply, "Take a seat, Jack."
The atmosphere was tense as Junior began reading Jack the riot act, assigning the team's failures solely to his coaching abilities. Junior went on at length about how he believed he had assembled a remarkable group of players, and it was Jack who was not harnessing their full potential.
As Junior continued to vent his frustrations, Jack's anger began to boil within him. He refused to be the sole scapegoat for the team's shortcomings. Gathering his courage, Jack pointed out that perhaps the players were not as talented as Junior believed. He argued that Junior's preference for flashy players had overshadowed the importance of substance and compatibility within the team.
"With all due respect, Junior, you opted for flash over substance," Jack retorted. He went on to provide specific examples to support his case. "Take the draft, for instance. You chose Moe Treadwell, a winger, over Frank Featherstone despite both Bill and I specifically telling you we needed a defenseman. And where did Featherstone end up? Toronto. He would have been a perfect fit for our defense-first system. We needed solid blueliners, not just scoring power."
Jack's frustration poured out as he continued. "And let's not forget the trade that sent Fred Yeadon away. He may not be flashy, but he is a rock-solid citizen and a dependable defenseman, but you insisted on making the deal. We lost a vital piece of our defensive puzzle because you favored your own vision over the needs of the team."
Junior's anger flared in response to Jack's bold accusations. The room crackled with tension as their friendship became overshadowed by their professional disagreements. Finally, unable to contain his rage any longer, Junior made a decision that would forever change their relationship.
"You're fired, Jack," Junior declared, his voice filled with disappointment and frustration.
The words hung heavily in the air. Jack stood there, shocked and hurt. He had left a good coaching job in Toronto to follow Junior to Detroit, believing in their shared dreams of success. Now, bitterness seeped into the cracks of their friendship, leaving them both wondering how they had come to this point.
"You're going to run this team into the ground, Junior," Jack said coldly. "You better hire a competent general manager and coach before it's too late."
Junior glared at Jack. "Watch it, Jack. I can make it so you'll be lucky to get a job coaching amateurs in Moose Jaw."
Jack was fuming but held his tongue. Nothing he could say was going to make the situation any better. He turned on his heel and walked to the door.
As Jack left Junior's office, the weight of uncertainty settled on his shoulders. What would come next for him in his coaching career? The bitterness of their falling-out would linger, but Jack knew he had to pick up the pieces and move forward. The road ahead was uncertain, but Jack was determined to prove himself and find a new path that would lead him back to the world of hockey, this time on his own terms.
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Jack Barrell (r) meets with Junior Connelly