Backstage at the Vinyl Cafe - We Regret to Inform You: Rejecting the Goalie Mask

Episode Date: August 12, 2026

Today we bring you an episode from our friends at the Apostrophe Podcast Network – one of the most-loved shows from the podcast ‘We Regret to Inform You.’If you’re new to the pod, it’s a series that tells the inspiring stories of actors, athletes and even astronauts, who overcame major rejection on their journeys to the stars. This episode, however, is a little different. It's about an object. Specifically, the goalie mask.Before goalie masks were widely accepted, one hall of fame goalie endured over 400 stitches to the head and neck over the course of his career. Some of the early objections to goalie masks included:“Masks make goalies complacent.”“Masks eliminate fear in goalies – the fear that drives them to play well.”“A real man wouldn’t hide his face from his opponents.” We hope you enjoy "Rejecting the Goalie Mask." Ad-free listening is here! Listen to the pod ad-free and early, PLUS a whole bunch of other goodies – like virtual parties, Q&As, listener shout-outs & more. Subscribe here: apostrophe.supercast.com Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

This is an apostrophe podcast production. Welcome to the show. I hope you're having a good summer. I hope you're hiking or paddling on a lake or going for ice cream or doing some other deeply Canadian thing that involves sunscreen and bug spray and pretending that the lake is not that cold. I love summer. I do. But I have to say, I'm also a big fan of winter. If you listen to this podcast regularly, you'll already know that.

I love cross-country skiing. I love skating on that not-too-cold lake. I love snow-shoeing in the forest. I love spending eight hours on the ski hill with my kids and the way I feel when I come inside from the cold. I love doing things in winter. But I also love winter because it's a part of who I am. It's a part of who we are in Canada. It's a part of our inherited memory.

It's part of what makes us us. And I know a big part of that for many people is hockey. So today, in the middle of summer, we have a hockey story for you. It comes from our friends at We Regret to Inform You, the Rejection Podcast. Normally, this show tells the stories of artists, athletes, writers, and even an astronaut, who all faced serious career rejection and somehow kept going. But every once in a while, they mix things up. And this time, the rejection story isn't about a person.

It's about an object. The goley mask. Before goalie masks were widely accepted, one Hall of Fame goalie had more than 400 stitches to his head and neck over the course of his career, which is one of those facts that makes you pause and think, humans are very strange. and maybe hockey players especially strange. Anyway, here it is, the fascinating rejection story of the goalie mask from We Regret to Inform You. This is We Regret to Inform You, the Rejection podcast. Anyone who wears a mask is a chicken.

My face is my mask. Gumporsley. The first organized game of hockey was said to take place on March 3, 1875, on Montreal's Victoria Skating Rink. Back then, the blades of hockey sticks were flat, which made it difficult to lift the puck off the ice. So the game stayed relatively low to the playing surface. Goalies were allowed to stop the puck only with their sticks. Dropping down onto the ice would result in penalties, unless, of course, the drop was an accidental fall. One day in 1896, goalie George Merritt of the Winnipeg Victoria's decided to strap a pair of cricket pads to his shins

to protect his kneecaps in what was then called the Stanley Cup Challenge. Below the waist padding became more and more common amongst goaltenders. And soon, more and more goaltenders started accidentally falling to stop a goal. So, the president of the brand-new National Hockey League made a change to the game. There were too many accidental falls happening on his watch. So, in 1918, he announced that goalies could legally drop to their knees during play. In fact, he said goalies could stand on their heads if they think. thought it might stop a puck. Suddenly, the low game became extremely high risk. All across the

league, men's noses were breaking, cheekbones shattering. But it may, or may not, surprise you to know, that the first goalie to ever wear a mask in an organized game of hockey was a woman. 21-year-old Elizabeth Graham was a Queen's university student who was getting ready for a big game against the University of Toronto. Graham played goal for the Queen's Love Me Littles, a name coin to reflect the lack of love the women's team got from the men's. She'd recently had dental work done, thanks to an aerobatic save in a previous game, and she'd wanted to protect her investment. So on February 7, 1927, the goalie slid on a mesh fencing mask. Graham said she did it because it just made practical sense. Queens won that night, three-two.

And though the victory was headline-worthy, what got written up the next day in the Montreal Daily Star wasn't Elizabeth Graham's saves. It was her mask. Fast forward three years to 1930, meet Clint Benedict, a goalie for the Montreal Maroons. Benedict liked to drop down to his knees to make a save. So much so, he earned himself the nickname Praying Benny. But one night, the Holy Golly was knocked unconscious by a flying puck, breaking multiple facial bones. Suddenly, Benny was praying for a swift recovery. Six weeks later, he returned to the ice.

The Maroons were facing the New York Americans at Madison Square Garden. But that night, Benedict looked different. He slid into the crease dawning a big leather face mask. One historian described the mask as Martian, another as something. something adjacent to a boxer's sparring mask. Benedict played a handful of games with the Martian mask, but found the nosepiece cumbersome, claiming it impaired his vision. A two-to-one loss against the Chicago Blackhawks solidified this theory. The first professional goalie to wear a face covering in a game, ditched, said face covering. And no NHL player would wear a mask again.

for decades. In the book, Saving Face, the art and history of the golea mask, authors Jim Hines and Gary Smith wrote that at that time, goalies weren't considered to be in harm's way, so there was no need for added protection. But goalies everywhere felt differently about that. When asked why he showed up clean-shaven on game days, Toronto Homey Belief's goalie Lauren Shabot said it was because he stitched up better on smooth skin. Legendary four-time Stanley Cup champion Terry Sawchuck received over 400 stitches in his face across his career. The goaltender sustained a broken nose twice over, a broken arm, broken foot, ruptured discs, a collapsed lung, a shattered elbow, and the list goes on.

Sautchuk once stopped a puck with a glove that offered no protection to the back of the hand, and a player skated directly across it, severing all the tendons in his hand. Sautchuk would turn to self-medicating, and after a brawl with a teammate, succumb to his final injuries. It said Sautchuk died a hero and a physical and mental wreck. Authors Heinz and Smith wrote that these NHL goalies endured the fear and pain because at the time there were only six decent goaltending jobs in the world. And despite the dangers, there was fierce competition for those jobs. There were no second-string goalies. You skated off the ice, were stitched up without anesthetic, and sent back between the pipes to finish the game.

In the 40s and 50s, there was little talk about, protecting one's head. But it wasn't lost on these players that they ought to start protecting their faces. So a few goalies started wearing masks in practice. Of course, a hockey mask still didn't exist. So players had to McGiver face protectors. One looked like a welders mask, another like a visor. They weren't great. Players complained they were too hot, that their breath fogged up the front impairing their vision. But no one hated goalie masks more than the coaches and GMs. Heinz and Smith wrote that netminders who masked up faced a minefield of resistance from management. Grievances included that masks prevented goalies from seeing the puck at their feet.

Masks eliminated fear in goalies, the fear that drove them to play well. Masks made goalies complacent and that a real man wouldn't hide his face from his opponents. General managers were responsible for ticket sales, and to quote Mus Patrick, New York Rangers GM from 55 to 64, women who like hockey want to see the player's faces. While you listen today, pop over to our socials. We collected images of all the masks in this episode, and some you really have to see to believe. So you can find them at Aposterphi Pod on X or Instagram. And we'll be right back.

Muspatrick rejected safety concerns and stated that no goaltender for the Rangers would ever wear a mask. As the decades passed, hockey got faster, more aggressive. The game evolved, but the equipment did not, and goalies developed crippling anxiety. Some players developed ulcers as young as 17. Others threw up in the dressing room between periods. One goalie for the Montreal Canadiens suffered asthma attacks and crippling nausea before games. But he was dismissed as a hypochondriac. That goalie was Jacques Plont.

In the 1959-1960 season, the Montreal Canadiens were in the midst of a record-breaking Stanley Cup streak. They'd taken home the Cup in 1956, 1957, 1958, and 59, all with Jacques Plont in goal. Now they were on the heels of a fifth straight win. In the seven NHL seasons he'd played up until that point, Plont had received 150 stitches in his face, so he, like a few of his fellow goaltenders, had started wearing masks in practice. Then one night in a game against the Boston Bruins, Plant's forehead was sliced by a puck. Play was paused while Plant got stitched up in the locker room.

Fans anxiously awaited his return, and as the minutes ticked by, one of those fans, got an idea. His name was Bill Birchmore. He worked for Fiberglass Canada in Montreal. Fiberglass is essentially glass-reinforced plastic, used mostly to make boats at that time. It was easy to mold and manipulate, but hardened after setting into a strong yet light material. And Birchmore started to wonder, what if he made the Montreal Canadiens goalie a fiberglass mask? Birchmore decided to write the beloved goaltender a letter, detailing his concept for a plastic mask, an offering to custom make one for Plont. All Plont would have to do was sit still while Birchmore molded the plastic to fit his face.

Plant likely got hundreds, if not thousands of letters every season from hockey fans. But this one gave him pause. Birchmore said surely Plant thought he was nuts. But soon, the Stanley Cup winning goalie, along with the team's trainer and doctor, were standing in front of him. Birchmore placed a woman stocking over Plant's head before covering his skin with Vaseline and sliding straws into his nostrils. Then Birchmore poured liquid plastic all down Jacques Plant's face. The mask would weigh about one pound at three-sixteenths of an inch thick.

It was white with round eye holes, a rectangular mouthhole, And frankly, it looked a little Michael Myers-esque. But Birchmore didn't care if people found the mask off-putting. He said he designed it for protection, not for aesthetics. It fit perfectly to the contours of Plant's face, adding, if it was made for Clark Gable, it would look like Clark Gable. Plant wore his new mask at practice, but was given a strict directive never to wear it in a.

a game. Canadiens coach Toe Blake said if Plont wore the mask and they lost a game, the mask would be blamed. If he wore the mask and he lost his record fifth straight NHL goalie of the year award, the mask would be blamed. If he wore the mask and the Canadians lost their bid at a fifth straight Stanley Cup, the mask would be blamed. So Plont left the mask in the locker room on game days. Then on November 1st, 1959, the Canadians faced the New York Rangers on enemy ice. And three minutes into the game, a slap shot by Rangers star Andy Bathgate clocked Plont right in the nose. Plont said the coach always told him to use his head, and he did. His nose was broken. He needed stitches, and it was then that Plont told Coach Blake,

he wouldn't finish the game without his mask. Blake wasn't happy. Without a second-string goalie, he started searching for amateur goalies in the stands. When no decent alternative materialized, Blake reluctantly allowed Plont back into the net. If and only if, he promised to discard the mask as soon as his face healed.

Plont skated back. onto the ice under a one-pound sheet of fiberglass. And by the time he reached the crease, the stands fell silent. Then, audible gasps echoed around the garden. One sports writer said the white mask looked like Plont's exposed skull. Others wrote that Plant looked like something out of a Hollywood horror show, like he died from the neck up. One Rangers fan said that Plont had missed Halloween by a day.

Another wondered aloud if he was aware of how much he'd startled the elderly and frightened the children. Rangers goalie, Gump Worsley, said any goalie who wore a mask was a chicken. His face was his mask. The Canadians beat the Rangers that night, three to one. Soon word spread beyond the garden about Plont's plastic protector, and more players chimed in. The consensus, no woman would ever come watch a game if Plont wore an unsightly mask. But Plont said at the rate he was going, pretty soon his own face would be the Hollywood horror show. And we'll be right back.

Following their win over the Rangers, Plont's nose, started to heal. His stitches were removed, but his mask was not. Plont disregarded his coach's order and continued to wear the mask, and the Canadians continued winning. Eight games, nine games, 12 games, 15, 17, 18 straight wins meant Toe Blake wasn't asking any questions. But come the 19th game, and first lost since dawning the mask, Plont's grace period was over. Jock Plont took the mask off. The following game, the Canadians lost,

3-0 to Detroit. So, Plont slid the mask back on. Within a couple months, Bill Birchmore decided to make Plont a new mask. He'd met with Plont, listened to his gripes, taken some notes, and come up with a second iteration. First and foremost, one that would provide better ventilation. This mask was made with fiberglass again, but fiberglass yarn instead of one solid sheet,

giving the mask a cage-like appearance. It would become known as the pretzel mask, though some described it as looking like worms crawling across a golly's face. Plont debuted the pretzel mask in June. January of 1960. Plont said in order to keep the mask, he knew he had to keep winning. When he played well, no one said a word. When he let a goal in, everyone blamed the mask.

Toe Blake, Plont's teammates, fans, reporters, everybody questioned his judgment. Hockey purists called Plont a coward. fellow goalies criticized Plont. Gump Worsley asked why, after all these years, a goalie would suddenly worry so much about injuries, adding that wearing a mask would deprive fans of his beautiful face. Meanwhile, Boston Bruins goalie Eddie Johnston had his nose broken three times in ten days. One night after a game, a fan asked Plont if wearing a mask,

proved he was scared. And Plont replied, if you jumped out of a plane without a parachute, would that prove you were brave? The Montreal Canadiens beat the Toronto Maple Leafs for nothing in the 1960 Stanley Cup finals. A fifth consecutive Stanley Cup win for the Canadians, a record that still stands today. Jacques Plont and his mask didn't let in a single goal. Plont was awarded his fifth straight trophy for top goalie in the NHL. In the 1961-62 season, Plont played goal in all 70 games. The Canadians lost in the semis. But that year, Plont was named NHL MVP, the first goalie to ever receive the honor. In 1965, Plont decided to motivate the masses.

He started a goalie mask company. His first attempt at designing his own mask was a flop. One-size-fits-all resin pretzel masks that fit awkwardly or cracked in cold arenas. But the goalie took a second shot at mask-making. He launched a company called Fibrosport in 1970 and began making custom masks. Soon he was selling 8,000 masks per year. If a goalie would break their nose or fracture their jaw in a game, Plont would send them a fibrosport.

Then a plumber from Norwood, Massachusetts, had an idea. Ernie Higgins was a superintendent whose son tended goal for Boston College. Higgins decided one day to make his son a bespoke mask, one that provided more coverage and stayed put even in a fast-paced game. Soon, words spread around Boston about Higgins' new style of mask, and the Bruins came a knockin. The Higgins mask was almost the love child of Birchmore's original fiberglass mask and the pretzel mask. It was white and solid, but with more high. holes for ventilation. It also covered more than just the face, both tucking under the chin and extending over the top of the head. The Higgins mask was such a hit. Ernie Higgins left his

plumbing job and became a full-time mask maker at 54 years old. In 1967, Bruin Jerry Cheever's wore a Higgins mask for the first time. Then one day during practice, Cheever's took a shot off the mask. As authors Hines and Smith tell the story, Cheever's wasn't a fan of practice in the first place. So that particular day, he skated off the ice, stomped into the locker room, found a crispy Coke and a black marker. And while he sipped, Bruins trainer John Frosty Forrestall sketched a stitched a stitch on his Higgins.

He said, that'll show them how hurt you are. But when Bruin's coach Harry Sindin all but dragged Cheever's back onto the ice to finish practice, it was his teammates who ended up in stitches. The black stitch across his white mask was cheeky and distinctive. Cheever's was later heard saying, The mask was a little too white for his liking anyway. White represented pure. purity, and pure wasn't exactly how he saw himself. From that day on, every time Cheever's was

pucked in the mug, he would add another stitch. Cheever's mask would become the single most recognizable mask in hockey history. It became the perfect emblem for the mask movement, an actual visual showing coaches, players, and fans just how often goalies were hit in the face. It also birthed a brand new phenomenon, the idea of personalizing one's mask. By the late 60s, what were historically flat hockey stick blades became curved, making it easier to lift the puck off the ice, and the energy around goalie masks really began to shift. More and more goalies started masking up, but perhaps the most critical shift came from the top. Suddenly, coaches and GM started seeing masks not as a liability, but as protection of their investments.

In fact, it was discovered that masks enhanced a goalie's game by allowing them to drop to their knees more readily without fear of facial injury. Even New York Rangers' GM Mus Patrick, the man who declared no Ranger would ever wear a mask, changed his tune, ordering all junior rangers to wear masks and get used to it. The great Glenn Hall, inventor of the low-to-the-ice butterfly style of goaltending, was said to be the first of the old guard to adopt the mask. Hall was quoted as saying he wanted to be sure he could collect his paycheck personally, adding, he didn't want it mailed to the Good Samaritan Hospital or Cemetery. Masks began to improve. The Higgins mask evolved into the birdcage, and by 1970, the majority of goalies in the

NHL wore masks. Though, there were still a few holdouts. Leif's legend Johnny Bauer, who had received over 200 stitches in his 12-year four Stanley Cup winning career, refused to adopt the mask until the final games of his NHL career in 1970. December 31st, 1972 would be the NHL's last all-maskless game between Detroit and Minnesota, Andy Brown versus Gump Worsley. Supposedly was told life after hockey would simply be better with both eyes. And soon the Gumpur decided his face would be his mask, longer. By the 1973-1974 season, the mask's biggest critic slid on his own, though he was on record

loathing every second of it until the day he retired. The last NHL goalie to go bare-faced in a game would be Andy Brown in 1974. The following year, Jacques Plont stopped his final goal. And the goalie who was called a coward, a chicken, a Hollywood horror show, told masks would hinder his game, make him less alert, that less fear would make him a worse player, ridiculed by coaches, managers, players, journalists, and hockey fans everywhere. Retired one of the greatest goalies in NHL history, who single-handedly changed the face of the game. Sport is an interesting endeavor. Nobody wants to lose. But if you look beneath the bravado of athletes, if you dive deeper than the press conferences,

you discover the real fear. It's not losing. It's being humiliated. Boxers deal with this constantly. Any good fighter can deal with losing. The bigger fear is being humiliated in front of a crowd. Goaltenders are also a breed apart. NHL goalies often say they have more in common with opposition goalies

than they do with their own teammates. Jock Plont himself once said, How would you like a job where, when you made a mistake, a red light goes on, an 18,000 people boo? That's life in the arena. So when you look back at Plont's decision to wear a mask, in an era where no one wore a mask. He risked massive humiliation.

He was labeled a coward, not just by the press, but by other goalies. The league was against it. Plont's coach was against it. His teammates were leery of losing because of it. But sometimes, it's better to beg forgiveness than ask permission. Plont knew he would be a better goaltender if he could lose the fear of being hit in the face by the puck. He knew it in his bones.

So he was willing to endure humiliation because he knew it would be temporary. A lot of us fear that kind of career humiliation. We choose not to step into the arena for fear of being booed or ignored, or worse, ridiculed. But you have to love, honor, and obey your gut feelings. Your gut will never steer you wrong, because your gut only has your best interests at heart. It's not beholden to anyone else.

That's why you have to listen to the quiet wind chime of your intuition, without debate. Because that's where the glory is. Today, goleys not only wear masks, they are a canvas for personal expression. Many of those masks are meant to be intimidating, which is ironic as the league originally tried to intimidate Jacques Plont to drop his mask, but his gut wouldn't let him. If your gut keeps tugging at you, if your intuition won't leave you alone, it's probably worth the shot. Never, ever give up. career, 18 seasons, regular season games, 837. NHL goalie of the year wins, seven, most of any goaltender, NHL MVP wins, one, all-star appearances,

eight, Stanley Cups, six, inducted into the Hockey Hall of Fame, 1978, Pucks to the face, countless. The Rejection podcast is an apostrophe podcast production and is recorded in our Airstream Mobile Recording Studio. This series is written by me, Sydney O'Reilly. Production and research by Alison Pinchis, director Callie O'Reilly, engineer Jeff Devine, theme music by James Aiton, Jeremiah Pick, and Casey Pick.

Tunes provided by APM music and We're Powered by ACAST. If you enjoyed this episode, you might also like rejecting Haley Wickenheiser. Talk about a hockey pioneer. Wickenhizer was cut from teams just for being a girl. She had to sleep in janitor's closets at hockey camps and change in storage rooms at competitions. She paved the way for female hockey players everywhere. But it was not an easy road, and her story is one of our favorites of the entire series. Skate on over to our archives.

Follow us on socials at Apostrophe Pod. This series is executive-produced and co-hosted by one Terry O'Reilly. See you next time.