Before the game, the raucous clamor of the hockey arena echoes through the cold concrete passages leading to the locker room. As they dress, the Chicago Black Hawks ignore the din and concentrate on their ritual of making relaxing small talk. But the Black Hawks can seldom find anything helpful to say to the wiry, whisper-voiced man whose square face is delicately crosshatched with scars. Sitting alone, Goalie Glenn Hall, 29, slowly straps on his 40 Ibs. of dark-brown leather pads and fights his regular pre-game battle with his nerves. Great drops of sweat roll down his cheeks, his chest heaves...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In
