From tragedy, the hockey world found triumph of spirit 25 years post-9/11

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The hockey community was hardly alone in its suffering on 9/11, mourning loved ones, dealing with the permanent emotional scars seen and heard that day.

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Like everything else, the game had entered a grave new world of security concerns, travel restrictions and armed response in the Middle East that still predominates.

Yet the same ubiquitous, intangible ‘code’ that fuels hockey became a force for good in the wake of the terrorist attacks 25 years ago this week in New York City and Washington, D.C.

Two NHL team employees, scouts Garnet (Ace) Bailey and Mark Bavis, were killed on one hijacked plane that struck the World Trade Center’s South Tower, while Rob Cimetta, an alumnus working several floors below impact, barely escaped that building’s fall.

The start of training camps at various levels in Maritime Canada that week saw its arenas pressed into service as emergency shelters for thousands of stranded passengers. But resolve ruled the days after, the victims’ memory picked up by teammates and teams who’ve honoured them in their hearts, and in banners, trophies, bursaries and theme nights for first responders and service.

“We gather as a family in Boston every year around this time,” said Mike Bavis, Mark’s twin brother, told the Toronto Sun. “We’d been on the ice together since we were old enough to skate and linemates right up to Boston University.

“It’s still a hard day 25 years later, but everyone being together makes it a little easier.”

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WHAT WAS ROB CIMETTA’S 9/11 EXPERIENCE?

Cimetta worked for capital funds giant Morgan Stanley, in its regional office in Sarasota, Fla. He and a few co-workers were invited to a training session in New York, on the 61st floor of the South Tower the week of Sept.

11.

A career in finance had followed his 12-year pro career, a hometown Toronto Marlie junior forward, first-round pick of Boston in 1988, briefly a Leaf and ending a six-year hitch in Germany after 1999-2000.

The Monday agenda was to begin with a morning meeting as a perfect azure sky showing off the best views of Manhattan’s skyline. At 8:46 a.m., the first of the hijacked planes, American Airlines Flight 11, struck the North Tower.

“Our first indication was a fire alarm as the system had tied into both buildings,” Cimetta said in a previous Sun interview. “At that point we didn’t see, feel or hear what had happened in the next tower.

We were just all herded into the stairwells.

“It sounds terrible to say now, but at that early stage, we were complaining about having to walk down 60 floors. We didn’t know a plane had hit.

A colleague from Sarasota looked out a window and saw a bunch of papers flying around and some fires on the ground and thought, like a lot of us, that something bad must have happened at street level.”

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The stairs were getting crowded around the 40th floor when evacuees paused to hear a strange mixed-message announcement. The North Tower had been ‘compromised’, but South Tower personnel could return to their offices.

“A few seconds later, the second plane hit our building,” Cimetta said.

Cimetta imagined the same experience as an earthquake when the 767 jet, United Flight 175, struck 30 storeys above. The whole tower swayed, lights went out, followed by noisy generators kicking in.

“Then there was some panic. There was bottlenecking on the stairs.

Some concern we’d be trapped, a lot of shouting ‘let’s go! ’”

As Cimetta and others neared the ground, doomed firefighters rushed by them up the stairs.

“People were still helping each other as best they could. We got to the lobby and saw those being attended by paramedics, covered by dust and debris.

When the power was cut, some elevators had crashed, probably with people in them, causing damage which again made us think this was something wrong at ground level.

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“I had a sense of relief reaching the labyrinth of underground stores that connected the towers and through some doors that opened to the subway platform. When I got back outside, first thing I saw was a jet engine lying in the street with cops around it.

“I looked up at what the rest of the world was watching on TV. That’s when we were told two planes had hit.

It was pandemonium – and shocking to me that a ton of FBI was there already, with firefighters still rushing in the building and lots of ambulances.”

Cimetta got clear of the collapses and was able to call loved ones to say he was safe. After a couple of days marooned in Manhattan with most worldwide flights grounded, the Sarasota group eventually took a rental car home.

He went on to start his own Canadian-based commercial property development firm.

“It’s a conversation that definitely happens every year on 9/11. I’m probably more of a stoic guy about it, but on your own time, when you’re alone, you start thinking about it.

It still shakes you. It was clearly a case of being at the wrong place at the wrong time, a day of tragedy, a day of heroes.

But ours was a story of survival.

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“You view life from a different lens. But the takeaway of the whole thing was the stupidity of the (deed) and the impact on our daily lives.

You kind of assumed we live in a peaceful, civil world.

“We can be so consumed by our own bubble and everyday trivialities. It makes you appreciate your family and friends all that more.

I don’t sweat the small stuff any longer. And it showed a lot of us that if you have something big you want to do, then do it.”

An NHL Linesman wears a ribbon on his sleeve in memory of those who died in the Pentagon, Pennsylvania and New York Twin Towers attacks and Los Angeles Kings Player Scouts “Ace” Bailey and Mark Bavis during a game against the Florida Panthers at Staples Center in Los Angeles, California. The Kings defeated the Panthers 3-1.

(/NHLI)HOW DID THE ST. JOHN’S MAPLE LEAFS AND THE CITY HELP?

Let’s hope there’ll never be another Plan B like the Leafs’ Newfoundland farm team had to enact on the fly after 9/11.

The club and ST. John’s citizenry quickly came to grips with a harsh reality intruding on their easygoing island enclave.

While first thoughts were for the victims in New York, it quickly became apparent that a year of planning for the parent Leafs’ visit – training camp, an exhibition game against Montreal, promotional appearances and a chance to show off the new Mike One Stadium – was done. Or as the locals would say, “The arse has gone out of ‘er.’”

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Baby Leafs team president Glenn Stanford assembled his staff that morning for a much different and important task.

“We got word from the U.S. that a number of flights were coming to St. John’s and the rest of our province, to Gander, Goose Bay, Stephenville,” Stanford told the Sun in a previous interview.

“The City of St. John’s called to say our building ‘might be used in a different capacity’. At that point we didn’t know how many planes were coming, five, 10, 15.

“At first our staff were really intimidated. KLM, Sabena, United

we knew there’d be a lot of passengers and many weren’t going to speak English. We had room for about 5,000 people in the rink.

But at our meeting, we reminded everyone that this is what we do, bring people into this building, get them comfortable, put them in the right place. This was really no different than any other event.”

They had aid from the Leafs’ promotions department and equipment staff who’d arrived a few days in advance of the team. They included community relations director Kristy Fletcher and her husband Jim Neish, the latter who’d come along to see some family in the area and to help run hockey clinics.

Just outside of town, the couple caught a snippet of Rod Black’s radio simulcast on Canada AM about the attacks.

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“The message was simple: we need all hands on deck,” said Fletcher, daughter of Leafs’ late executive Cliff. “They were already preparing the massive ballroom at our hotel for people to sleep.

When we got to Mile One, there were thousands of passengers.”

Someone on Stanford’s staff came up with the simple but brilliant idea to assign each displaced flight a designated section of the rink, starting with 101 and around the lower bowl.

“One by one, flights were shuttled to the arena,” Neish recalled. “We were given the flight manifests and literally passenger-by-passenger, checked them in so there’d be a record of their whereabouts.

“One of my most vivid memories was a soccer team from Uganda, on their way to New York. We were trying to explain to them they were in Canada, but actually on an island in the most eastern part of the country.

“They were only wearing shorts,” Fletcher added, “and it was not warm in St. John’s in September. Certainly their confusion and everyone’s was obvious.

’ But there was an incredible calmness.”

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All affected praised the local Red Cross and the city’s emergency response teams for rolling out a game plan to feed and bed down so many in a short span. Toiletries, pillows, blankets, sleeping bags and clothing arrived at Mile One as passengers weren’t able to take their luggage off the plane for security reasons.

Eventually, the Leafs arrived for an abbreviated camp, creating the most unusual morning practice routines. People who’d never seen hockey and were in their pyjamas arose to see coach Pat Quinn run a 9 a.m.

practice with captain Mats Sundin, Curtis Joseph, Tie Domi, Gary Roberts and Bryan McCabe.

“By the time we got there, at least it was a little break from reality for them,” McCabe said. “I’m sure staying at that rink for a week wasn’t anything glorious for them.

“I went up in the stands to talk to people, ask where they’d come from, what had transpired for them and did they have family and friends in New York. I’m sure it would be tough days, weeks, months, years after that for some.”

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As the airport resumed operations, announcements at the rink for passengers to board buses for rescheduled flights were greeted with huge applause, the Leafs stopping workouts to tap their sticks in tribute. The Baby Leafs’ team store was quickly emptied of shirts, hats and trinkets as the accidental tourists sought souvenirs of The Rock.

Some would return through the years to reconnect with their hosts.

“If you’re going to get stuck somewhere for a week, this is the place,” noted Roberts. “Both my grandmothers are from here and if I’m not related to half the people there, I’d be surprised.”

Maple Leaf Sports and Entertainment helped the cause, joining a provincial government pledge to match any public donation.

,’” Stanford said. “When the Canadiens arrived for the game, they and Molson’s gave a lot of money, too.

The night of the exhibition, Ken Dryden spoke so well and we’ll never forget the moment of silence for the victims (with the old rival teams standing together across centre ice).

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“You think of Gander, which was featured in (the stage play) Come From Away, and how the size of their town doubled that week. And you don’t really hear the great stories of what the people did in Stephenville and Goose Bay.

“But what happened is quite indicative of us here in Newfoundland. In a simple way, we look to straighten out a large problem.

People need help, so how can we help? I think that defines us.”

The Moncton Arena being used as emergency shelter on 9/11. (Lance Hornby/Toronto Sun)WHERE WERE THE LEAFS ON 9/11?

It was supposed to be a joyous, exciting experience for Leafs players, training camp medicals at their Bay Street arena and a charter flight to St. John’s for camp.

Instead, they spent the morning glued to dressing room TV images of the burning skyscrapers.

“I’d started my testing process, sitting on the end of the trainers’ table, then saw one of the buildings on fire,” McCabe said. “We thought it was caused by a small prop plane hitting it.

Then we saw the second jet go in. ’

“It hit really close to home because my brother-in-law, Brian McNamara, was a first responder in New York, and my father-in-law, Robert Miele, is a retired fireman with their department. Brian worked out of the Columbus Circle neighbourhood and was on site (at the towers), going through the wreckage.

My wife (Roberta) and I had just got married that summer in New York and still spend our summers there. It was very eerie.”

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McCabe began his playing career with the New York Islanders, ended as a Ranger and up until this past July was director of player personnel for the Florida Panthers.

“It (9/11) was very emotional for us all. Many had friends and family in that area, or who worked in New York or were on a college team they’d played with.

You realized hundreds of people were burning, dying. It was a horrible situation.”

Other Leafs were aghast at what they were witnessing.

“I just want to go home and hug my kids,” a tearful Tie Domi said.

18 Sep 2001: A general view of Staples Center as Los Angeles Kings scouts Garnet “Ace” Bailey and Mark Bavis are honored prior to the start of the pre-season game between the Anaheim Mighty Ducks and the Los Angeles Kings in Los Angeles, California.A PERSONAL EXPERIENCE

It started with a puzzling in-flight announcement on my flight to St. John’s.

“Good morning, passengers, due to a security situation in the United States, our flight is being diverted to Moncton, New Brunswick.”

Not your usual air travel glitch, but there was little cause for alarm that morning. Few of us likely knew of Al-Qaida, suspecting Air Canada must somehow be at fault for this unusual diversion.

No one had internet or cell phones in those days, at least that worked at high altitude. So I couldn’t let National Post pal Scott Burnside know I’d be late joining him for the first day of Leaf camp.

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We were still kept in the dark upon landing in Moncton, though we noted it was filling with international jets. Not until hours later, when we deplaned, did we learn from terminal TV sets what had unfolded: hijackers turning three jets into fuel-laden bombs and a fourth that crashed in a Pennsylvania field when passengers bravely took on the terrorists.

But rather than shake my beliefs, the next 72 hours of my 9/11 postscript reflected humanity’s best profile – people from all walks of life drawn closer, pulling together.

After watching the towers fall – “America has just had its two front teeth knocked out in the most terrible way,” one newsperson intoned – I recovered my journalistic wits. While cleared to leave the hundreds of displaced, luggage-less French, Dutch, German, British and Americans marshalled at Moncton’s hockey arena, I slipped back in to document the town’s incredible response.

In just a few hours, volunteers, emergency services and the Red Cross had the floor and seats of the 7,0000-capacity Coliseum overflowing with food, baby formula, mattresses and other necessities. Dozens of donuts and coffee urns appeared, while an Asian restaurant mobilized a huge buffet.

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Moncton-area residents opened their homes, so eager to help that they came to the darkened rink at 2 a.m., gently rousing complete strangers to offer spare rooms and couches.

International security jitters at the time required clearing the rink during one day to look for a possible bomb, forcing everyone to the parking lot. But even that didn’t spoil the camaraderie.

A Canadian Tire store quickly donated soccer balls, and the younger Europeans organized a kind of World Cup on concrete, flight versus flight.

As it was a hot day, a radio station’s plea to help the elderly visitors cope in the sun resulted in a big box of baseball caps dropped off within the half hour. I’ll never forget a group of jolly French matrons sitting around wearing a fish and tackle shop’s headgear.

With the Leafs planning to fulfill their trip to St. John’s once airports re-opened, a couple of the TSN crew who were grounded with me got stir crazy. They embarked on the long drive to the ferry in North Sydney, N.S., on to a southern Newfoundland port and motoring to St. John’s from there, a trip of two to three days.

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My ‘North Star’ was hockey fan and new buddy Philip Hibbs. He’d connected to my Moncton flight from his home on Vancouver Island for a family visit in his native Kelligrews.

We’d spent those first unnerving nights watching the WTC aftermath from the hotel bar, counting ourselves grateful we’d eventually see our friends and relatives again.

When Moncton’s airport opened, seasoned traveller Phil was able to work around restrictions that flights would go no further than Halifax, finagling us on a small puddle jumper across the water to Deer Lake and finally Gander, jammed with American game hunters.

A young male relative of Phil’s met us in Gander and though I was perfectly willing to take a bus from there to St. John’s, Phil urged me to join them both for a beer in a modest family home. I ended up babysitting their toddler when both men made a quick visit to other family down the street.

Phil’s wife Susan arrived from her three-hour drive up the coast. A heartwarming reunion to see after so many stark images of missing loved ones posted near Ground Zero.

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The couple wouldn’t hear of me getting to the Avalon Peninsula any other way than as their guest, and I was soon on a memorable trip through picturesque Bonavista, Trinity and Conception Bays. I enjoyed hearing endless East Coast lore, from the charming place names (I remembered the words to ‘The Kelligrews Soiree’ from Grade 3) to the makeshift roadside crosses where man and moose had met their end.

“You’re comin’ to the house for a fish fry,” Phil added.

Could I have refused? His extended family, including his elderly Mom, were there to greet him, both of us given seats of honour at the table.

Richard, his young nephew, and huge Leafs fan, was agog when I promised to ask Curtis Joseph to get him an autograph.

As if he hadn’t done enough for me, Phil, and his brother, Hector, drove me from Kelligrews to the door of my hotel in St. John’s that night – through the tail end of a hurricane that brushed the island.

We all keep in touch, exchanging Christmas cards from coast-to-coast, me forever treasuring some good that came from tragedy.

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HOW DID MARK MESSIER HONOUR A FALLEN FIRE CHIEF?

It was the night Messier realized the true meaning of being a captain.

On Oct. 7, 2001, less than a month after 9/11 with the city still grieving, the Rangers opened their regular season against the Buffalo Sabres at Madison Square Garden.

The Rangers had invited hockey players among local firefighters and policemen to a pre-game ceremony and to wear their on-ice gear. But Larry McGee, coach of the smoke eaters, noted there was no instruction to bring their fire helmets.

“You wear your helmet,” McGee made clear in a recent NHL.com story. “It’s the staple of a fireman, the only thing that separates you from other rescue workers.”

At McGee’s station, there was a prominent picture of Battalion Chief Raymond Downey, a hockey enthusiast who embraced the game after he joined the service. The 63-year-old one-time U.S.

Marine died while helping people trying to escape the North Tower.

“I made a copy (of his picture), put it on the front of my helmet and brought it, thinking that if I get a chance, I’m going to sneak this on the ice and wear it,” McGee said. “Chief Downey was a legend in the department.

He just loved the FDNY, but his No. 1 passion might have been hockey.”

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McGee was in the brotherhood’s blueline formation as the Rangers were introduced, ending with team captain Messier.

“There’s probably a handful of times in my career, over 26 years, that something was more important than that game,” Messier said in the recent ABC special ‘9/11: United We Stand’. “This was one of those that felt secondary to acknowledging what these folks had done in the face of adversity.”

Noticing Messier hadn’t yet donned his helmet before the national anthem, McGee skated to him, against the advice of his friends, carrying Downey’s headgear with the small portrait.

“I thought he was just coming over to shake my hand,” Messier said. “And he did, then said, ‘We’d love you to wear Chief Downey’s helmet.’ At that point I’m thinking, am I worthy of putting that on?

(McGee) goes, ‘No, no, we’d all really appreciate it.’”

The symbolism of the hat and Messier’s famous intense glare became one of the event’s most striking images.

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WHAT WAS THE GARNET BAILEY – MARK BAVIS LEGACY?

When the National Sept. 11 Memorial & Museum in New York completed the arrangement of names at its site in 2011, everyone knew who’d be among those side-by-side of 2,982 inscribed.

Garnet (Ace) Bailey and Mark Bavis, scouts for the Los Angeles Kings and both residents of the Boston area, exemplified the Memorial’s goal of ‘meaningful adjacencies’, careful consideration of the relationships of 9/11 victims, the when-and-where of their fates. Many perished alongside good friends and co-workers in the towers and on the jets; others only met in the last chaotic moments of the fire and building collapses.

The two scouts are together on Panel S-3 of the South reflecting pool. Bailey, from Lloydminster, Sask., would be the first confirmed death of 24 Canadians that day.

He’d won the Stanley Cup in 1972 with the Bruins and enjoyed a long NHL/WHA playing career. He was part of five Cups with the Oilers’ hockey office and in 2001 was the 53-year-old director of pro scouting for the Kings, keeping his sharp wit and love of life.

He was conveniently nicknamed for the famous Ace Bailey on the 1930s’ Leafs.

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Bailey’s one year as a player in Edmonton coincided with Wayne Gretzky’s arrival, and Bailey showed the young phenom how to navigate pro hockey off the ice. Ironically, Bailey also helped ease Gretzky’s early fear of flying, often sitting beside him.

It was through No. 99’s influence that Bailey moved to the Kings with him in the 1990s.

His sacrifice led to the Western Canada Professional Scouts Foundation creating the annual Ace Award to recognize outstanding contributions of a member, with winners which include Mike Penny and Barry Fraser. Bailey’s gift of being able to make children laugh also inspired his wife Kathy and son Todd to create a charitable foundation for hospitalized kids.

The Kings have named their game night lion mascot ‘Bailey’ for many years.

Bavis, 31, was a ninth-round pick of the Rangers and though he’d not made the NHL from his home–state BU, his eye for spotting talent brought him to the Kings. He and Bailey had been getting a training camp assessment of L.A.’s farm team in Manchester, N.H., before their planned return to the parent club’s workouts in California.

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Their hijacked flight, United 175 out of Boston, hit the South Tower at 9:03 a.m., killing all 51 passengers on the Boeing 767 and its nine-person crew. Mike got the news in Calgary, where he was on a recruiting trip as assistant BU coach.

“My family will forever be indebted to the people of Canada,” Mike said. “Not just for helping me get through that day, but for the assistance in the (Maritimes) for all the passengers and for your armed forces personnel who served abroad and brought justice.”

Mike and another brother, Patrick, help oversee today’s Mark Bavis Leadership Foundation, which awards scholarships of between $3000 – $5000 US to senior high school players in Massachusetts, to honour Mark’s work as a hockey and life mentor.

“We receive hundreds of applications from kids,” Mike said. “But they must write an essay on how they’ve made a positive impact in their community.

There are some amazing young people out there who’ve made a difference around the world.

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Boston’s beloved Celtic punkers, The Dropkick Murphys, gave Bailey and Bavis a heavenly tribute line in their ballad to a fallen hockey-loving band member, You’re Spirit’s Alive’. “I’d think Mark would be happy with it, though he wasn’t someone who ever wanted attention on himself.”

When the Kings won their first of two Cups in 2012, they brought the trophy to the South Pool. Timothy McGuirk, now communications manager of the 9/11 Memorial and Museum, was a young Boston-area hockey player at the time of the attacks.

“In my Catholic school, we immediately went to Mass where the priest asked us again and again to pray for ‘all those people at the World Trade Center’,” McGuirk wrote on the site.

“In the weeks that followed, hockey season started. I learned that, for the first time, I’d be allowed to put a sticker on my helmet.

My dad always discouraged me from putting anything on it, but this season was different. Every kid playing for a Boston neighbourhood team wore a tribute sticker for Mark Bavis.

Many continue to do so today.

“Whenever I pass their names on the Memorial, I feel a real sense of duty. Our lived experience in the game of hockey brings us together, both around one of the worst days and greatest responses in history.”

Lhornby@postmedia.com

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