If you delve into the history of Broomball you may find it originated in 10th-century Iceland. The sport was called Knattleikr and was played between Viking villages. Its barbaric nature does have recorded deaths, including a record six in one game. In the 13th century a version of the game was played in Great Britain. It was known as “La Soule” and there is a report from the year 1283 that a man killed another during a game in the south western village of Cornwall.

Seven hundred years later, although still a rough-and-tumble game, our village of Cornwall had no reported deaths. Rene Lortie loved a good, hard-fought game, but some nights he wondered if it was worth it. “I would go home after seeing some things and even being on the end of a few fists and elbows myself,” added Lortie. He wasn’t alone in those thoughts as many of these warriors admitted “eventually we had to realize or at least some of us did, that we had families to provide for.”

Richard Seguin’s name comes up the most. It was like a switch went off some nights: “He was so good, he charged us up and so they would go after him.” says Ken Ingram. Rene Lortie agrees. “He had a way to get under your skin, but he could play.”

Their wallets were stolen one night in Quebec, an while the cops advised there was nothing they could do, Seguin punched the wall and broke his wrist. Gerry Desgroseilliers was there. “He left a mark in the cement.” After an OT loss in an Alexandria tournament, he smashed the table in the room to pieces. Richard bit Hector Murphy’s thumb one night, nearly clean off. “I don’t remember why he did it, I just remember screaming,” recalls Murphy with a chuckle. Richard’s fight at the Bob Turner Arena with Keith Bowen was described by many as epic. Already suspended, Seguin sat in the crowd and heckled Bowen. Big Keith had enough and scaled the boards. Bowen’s first punch knocked Seguin’s hat flying and it was on. It was a vicious display that included body punches, scratching, biting and smashing heads into the cement floor. Onlookers egged on their favourite. It took its toll on both men. Safe to say those that witnessed it all attest that had the cops not shown up one of them could have been killed.

I reached Richard Seguin who now lives in Alberta. “Hello, Mr. Seguin, I would like to talk about broomball." His answers rolled out and he was eager to bring up the past. He remembers it well. “We lived to play every night if we could.” Richard Seguin makes no excuses. “I played to win and guys knew they could get to me sometimes.”

What is not always talked about when it comes to Seguin is what he also accomplished playing the game. It started with the Textile Machinery team at Domtar on the Bousquet rink and Center-City league, tournaments with the Racines, Paquette Roofing in the Seaway Valley League (SVL), from Joliette to Brownsburg and Lachute. He played in Montreal with Gerry Desgroseilliers and Bernie Racine for the National Broomball League’s Dukes du Maisonneuve.

Clearly, Richard Seguin left his mark. Keith Bowen didn’t really want to talk about the rough stuff and I got the sense it was best not to ask. Bowen was a great multi-sport athlete who remembers playing lacrosse on the Bousquet rink, too. On the ice he could score and the scoring leaders standings of that era show Bowen usually in the top five. His left hand is what everyone remembers, too.

Rene “Dick” Richard was fast and played hard. His skill was his leg strength that gave him great speed; his edge was his ability to hug the end boards and carry the ball around the net, usually feeding Ken Ingram in front for an easy goal. “I had my most fun playing on the outdoor rinks; we never wanted to leave.” Richard still beams when he recalls games. “I think the best was in Ottawa against Olmstead; they had matching uniforms and warmed up to intimidate us. By the end of the period we were up five to zero.” Legend has it Dick had sharp fingernails, but he softly denies knowing anything about scratching—nudge nudge, wink wink. There was no such thing as a friendly exhibition game, and in Embrun one night, the locals found out in a game that lasted about five minutes. After one of Moe Racine’s shots knocked the goalie down, they cursed Racine. The game continued as Ken Ingram recalls, “This guy decides to get Moe, who is running full speed. Boom! They hit. The guy was out cold and never moved. He had to be carried off.” It created one of those get-out-of-town quick scenarios. Moe boasts he doesn’t remember being run out of any towns during those days: “We weren’t afraid of much. Its why they didn’t like us, that and we won a lot, too.” In Alexandria the lights went out one night and in the dark the thumps of brooms crashing against bone could be heard. The police chief, Ed Dupuis, was there in full uniform, watching. Dupuis heckled Gilles Racine. Says Gilles, “He was behind our net. I swung my broom at the wire screen so hard it pushed the screen and knocked the chief’s hat off.” At the next game the chief was on the bench and Gilles felt the wrath of the McCormick brothers all night long.

Most stop short of saying the Racines were goons. What is remembered though, is the ferocity and will to win they played with. The team did have two obvious weapons of intimidation. One stood 6 foot five and swung his broom like a firefighter’s ax. Gilles Racine never worried about who got in the way and a few bloodied noses, including his own, were known to decorate the ice around him. His six-foot-four, 250-pound little brother, Maurice, was fast, possessed a hard shot, knew how strong he was and had some experience on how to hit. Moe found that a couple of the guys who bullied him as a youngster were now fair game. “They thought they were tough when I was a kid. When I recognized them in warmup, they knew they were going to get it and they usually did,” says Moe. By the beginning of the 1961–62 season that may have been deemed too rough.

New Leagues and Politics

There was much to brag about in those days. Getting the best players to show up and play meant a successful tournament or season. Rheal Paquette was younger and never played with his dad’s team, but he remembers the games and the event that they became. “I have pictures and stories from those days and at my mother’s there are more.” Hanging in Rheal’s office is the North End Broom Ball League Championship plaque. Called the Labatt’s India Pale Ale Award, it has two small engraved shields on it. In 1959–60 the winners were Racine Cities Service Station and in 1960–61 Rolland A. Paquette Roofing Co.—the last hurrahs for two fabled teams.

In 1961 the North End League was no more. The new Seaway Valley League banned the Racines from joining. Depending on whom you talk to, their version of events boils down to being too rough or being too good. Sounds like politics. In time most of the guys eventually found their way onto SVL teams. The general consensus is simple: A new league needs teams. Not everyone was ready to enter the league knowing they didn’t have a chance to win. The executive consisted of the team managers and they likely based it on that. The decision was made and Rene Lortie, representing the new Paquette Roofing entry, agreed to be the messenger. “I knew them and figured they would take it better from me. They were wild about it,” recalls Lortie. If history proves one thing, eventually the SVL, and a few years later the Jeunesse Ouvriere Catholique (JOC),which had the biggest trophy ever, prided themselves for establishing codes of conduct. They issued harsh suspensions and took a stand against violent outbursts. Bob “Zoro” Racine, who became the president of the JOC, genuinely cared about the league and many point to its longevity because of Zoro. “I know some decisions were not popular and I even had a Pepsi poured on me one night by one of the wives,” Bob recalled. For years his basement was adorned with memories of the game he loved.

As in life things come full circle. The Nov. 28, 1970 Montreal-Matin has a full-page story dedicated to Lachute Quebec’s Conrad St. Jean. Bernie Racine said, “I knew I could play well. I knew our team was good. Kenny and Dick were great players and Willy MacDonald afterward was very fast and Gerry Bruyere was so smart, but Conrad was the best.”

Still, if there ever was a Jean Beliveau of broomball in his era, Bernard “Bernie” Racine was as close as you could get. He even wore number four. Bernie lived for the game and his stick-handling exploits are reported to be the stuff of legend. He didn’t shoot as often as his teammates would have liked, but he could set up anyone anywhere and did score a lot of goals. Si Miller remembers Bernie as “the foundation of the game in those days.” In time Bernie was allowed to play in the SVL and during the 1966–67 season mixed it up one night with Raoul “Queenie” Quenneville and Keith Bowen. He went into the corner to defend teammate Rejean “Ti-Blanc” Gagne. Before Bernie got close he walked into a left hook. Bernie was suspended for the remainder of the season for his part. The man with the magical hands would only play a couple games in Montreal and later a few with his son Alain in the JOC. Many agree Bernie’s contributions to the game were significant. It was not the way he might have envisioned it to end, but his time had come. His legacy to his era, ours to seek and theirs to remember.

Next week Part 4: Folklore and More

Email: thom_racine@hotmail.com

The Glengarry Sports Hall of fame is searching for broomball artifacts, pictures and memorabilia for a summer exhibit. If you would like to help out, contact Malcolm Fraser at Glengarrysports.com.