Madsen Finally Gets an "A"

Madsen gets between Baltimore's Phil Bourque
 and an unidentified Adirondack player.

After enduring that one season in the Central League, Madsen’s career path took a big Northern turn, both literally and figuratively, the following summer when the AHL returned to Baltimore that summer, opening the door for Madsen's return to his home state, and finally, an AHL position, sans NHL contract.

“The way it was back then is that the NHL had guys that were on a two-way, who were referees only, or you had guys who were assigned to the minors and would float around between the AHL or the CHL. There were a ton of referees that I worked with who went on to the NHL who are still around, but a lot also a lot who aged out, said Madsen, who by my count and exhaustive research, worked with 27 referees who spent time in the NHL during their careers, with the list being a variable A-to-Z, from Blaine Angus to Scott Zelkin.  

“They started doing a thing with linesmen where they would be on a 40-40 deal. The idea when I first started the idea of officiating in terms of the NHL was to work in the minors, and then next season you get an NHL contract, or you're in the NHL,” said Madsen, who, just like most of the current AHL linesmen, are deemed contactors. Interestingly, the linesmen of Madsen’s era, while provided with some expenses and basic equipment, unless one counts skates as basic equipment, which up until the latter years of Madsen’s career were bought out of pocket.   

“Then, a new regime came in from management that they started meaning guys in because they felt that you would get your maybe five games this year in the NHL, then the next year 30, and the next be in the NHL full-time if you had progressed enough. That way it wasn't a rude introduction to the players, because like in any vocation some people try to take advantage of you and their thinking was that weaning you in it allowed for more relationship building with the players and coaches. Once they get to know you, it makes a difference.”

In the summer of 1983, not long after the culmination of his third season of work as a professional linesman, Madsen received a call out of the blue from Mark Rudolph, then the Director of Officiating for USA Hockey at the time. Rudolph was inquiring as to Madsen’s availability to come out to Colorado Springs for a week to officiate some games at the National Sports Festival, all the while being so confident that Madsen would replay in the affirmative, that he had already booked a flight and sent the ticket. 

Madsen enthusiastically accepted the offer and after arriving found out that he and 11 others from around the United States, including Mike Condon (who died tragically at a young age after manning the lines for many games in Baltimore), had been selected for what turned out to be a selection tool for the 1984 Olympics, and although he later disappointingly found out that he didn’t make the final cut, he enjoyed the competition and the opportunity and cherishes the memory.

Fans who have only started watching hockey within the last dozen or so years, will never truly know the type of game that hockey was prior to time. Sure there is YouTube, but that video will never be able to truly capture the intensity, intimidation, and oftentimes chaos, that was very much par for the course in hockey back then, particularly in the minors.

Of course, being based in Baltimore and being assigned so many games involving the Jacks, Madsen developed a solid working relationship with Baltimore’s resident tough guy during their years being affiliated with the Pittsburgh Penguins, Bennett Wolf. Despite their working relationship from working in such close quarters, particularly during Wolf’s many quarrels with opponents, don’t get the impression that he gave Wolf or any Skipjacks player preferential treatment.

"I really prided myself on being fair on the faceoffs and the fights, said Madsen, dramatically emphasizing his point after being asked was it difficult to be impartial to the club representing his home area when officiating. “I always felt as a linesman that if you were fair on both of them, you would have the ultimate respect. On the faceoffs, the centermen would always try to get an advantage on each other and you, they would time you. As far as fights, you never want to see anyone get hurt, but I also wasn't going to get hurt.”

This leads to the question, how do linesmen know when it’s the right time to interject in a fight, and when they do, is there a technique, or is it all a matter of adjusting on the fly?

“We would let guys go because we know they are not boxers. But if we saw two guys that were wingnuts, so to speak, we're going to watch ourselves a little bit more, because we don't know what they're going to do, so we would communicate Then we’d let those guys go, and it was usually only for a few seconds because hockey fights usually don't last that long. Then, we would definitely go in and there and break it up.”

“You go in there back-to-back with your fellow linesman, then you grab the player by one arm and tuck it in, then after driving your head into his chest, you start skating towards him. Then, you get the other arm tucked in and at that point most guys back down. But if a guy went down (from a punch), I would immediately go down and try to wedge in between him and the other guy, and I’d cover him up as best as I could and say to him, don't move I’m taking it in the back. If you move your arm, you're getting one in the face. The bottom line was to protect the players as best you could. Remember this is not a street fight, these guys are professional athletes, and they still want to play.”  

Who knew that on-ice relationships were such an important part of an on-ice official's role? 

“There were times when I'd make a call, and if not for the fact that I had a relationship with the coach, they would have been yelling and swearing at me. But because of the relationship, they would just say, hey Gary, what are you doing? Or, hey Gary, you need to be in better position, you made a bad call and you need to be in this spot. Instead of yelling at you, they would say something during a timeout or break in play.”

In fact, Madsen said that his relationship with Wolf, who he says was one of the nicest guys you’d ever want to meet despite the role he played on his club, often saved him from verbal abuse for other players, primarily as a result of the respect that Madsen had gained from him, telling the chirper to “shut up”. But that’s not to say that he didn’t get an earful from time to time, as he recalled one eventful encounter with the Hershey Bears’ Kevin McCarthy. 

“Hershey meant (box office) money when they played in Baltimore, and this was one of those games when there was a big crowd, and I'll never forget this. The clock is winding down three, two, one, and Kevin McCarthy comes down the ice, and Kevin is a great guy. Anyhow, he rips a slapshot at the buzzer and it goes in, and if it's good, it counted, I'm talking right at the buzzer. Kevin was at the blue line and he's right in front of me about three feet away, and I blew the whistle (for offsides right away), because way on the other side of the ice, a Hershey player was a good two feet in the zone before the shot. It was definitely offsides, but Kevin and his teammates were still celebrating. But I knew what I saw, and it was offsides no matter what. But, of course, Hershey didn’t see it that way.”

“I'm like no (goal, due to the offsides), and he makes a beeline to me, and I'm getting ripped left and right. I said Kevin, look at the tape because every game was recorded back then, but he's still going on and on. Finally, I looked right at him and said, Kevin, if I'm wrong, and I knew I was right, I'll buy you dinner after the game (Hershey hosted the Jacks the next night in their barn). The next night we were skating around, and this is the kind of classy guy that he was. As the players came out, I'm looking around and Kevin immediately skated up to me and says Gary, Gary, Gary, you were right. From that time forward I never had a problem with Kevin because he respected how I handled it. By the way, he never did buy me that dinner, I just shrugged it off.”

When asked if he’d ever made a bad call, Madsen replied both comically and diplomatically, undoubtedly, doing the officials association proud with his reply. 

“Officials will never tell you that they made a bad call, it's just that some are better than others, he chuckled. “If I knew I was right, I was right, and I would say dead on I was there, and they would respect you for that. You're convinced (what you see) and you make the call. But if I was in the wrong position, I would listen.”

After the Bandits departed for Portland following the completion of their 1996-97, and still without an NHL deal, Madsen made the decision to keep officiating another season, manning the lines primarily in Hershey, but also making the occasional journey to other stops on the circuit, but that would turn out to be his last season as an AHL official. 

“I worked one more season primarily in Hershey, and that was really hard. The reason it was is that you need a lot of games, and there were a lot of guys already there. At that point, I knew that my path in the NHL was done. I was just there having a good time enjoying it, but I said to myself I was done. It was probably mutual, just because they knew that it wasn't going to work. And it wasn't that they didn't want me around, it's just that it wasn't working any longer.” 

Nobody ever wants to see their dreams end, but if you were a longtime AHL official who worked primarily in the Baltimore rink, where the conditions were less than ideal, and the crowds scant in the cavernous complex, going out in the Hersheypark Arena, definitely softened the blow and the reality of the end of the road. 

Madsen displays some fancy footwork
on a faceoff at Hersheypark Arena.

“There's the NHL, and that's great, but when you're in the minors, there was no greater place to do a game than the HersheyPark Arena, particularly on a Saturday night. The seats, all wooden because they were old, went vertical, not spread out horizontally like a lot of arenas,” Madsen mused, a soft smile recalling his swan song.  

“Our locker room was underneath the stands and you could see the contour of the concrete in there. Then, there was a little chute where we walked out onto the ice, and as you came out you could see the dangling feet of the fans before finally seeing the ice. There's a thing that I tell people about HersheyPark Arena that is really unique, and I called it feeling the air. You don't know if you feel the air because air says there. But when you went into Hershey, against Rochester or Baltimore with 7,200 fans and standing room only, you would go out on the ice and almost feel the air that you were skating into because there was so much intensity in the building due to so much energy being focused down to ice level because of the design. 

“(Before you knew it) You'd look up at the clock and there would be like three minutes left in the period, and you'd say where did the time go? Granted, there may have been 15 or so stoppages and faceoffs, but it was so intense that you only looked up at the clock on penalties.”

Such the consummate professional was Madsen, that when his cousin Mike would lean over the glass and wave to Gary, all he would receive in return was an inconspicuous nod of his head. 

Sadly for Baltimore boosters like Mike, who somehow managed to refrain from proudly shouting “that’s my cousin” while the smooth-skating Gary glided effortlessly around the rink, his red hair refusing to succumb to the forces of nature before he paused to meticulously check the twine for a gaping hole, their days of viewing games in person in Baltimore are gone for the foreseeable future, and maybe forever.

All that is left now are the enduring memories, all made possible by the efforts of the countless players who represented the city, and Madsen, who endured years of being bruised, punched, taunted, and verbally abused to "officially" ensure they would be lasting ones.