THE KING OF THE GOALIES

By: Fiorenzo Arcadi, Toronto Hockey Repair

It was Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities that immortalized the phrase "it was the best of times, it was the worst of times". The phrase has become a dichotomy for the tranquillity of life that endures in relation to forces that pave their own path. In essence, the words "worst and best" coexisted until the word worst developed its own conscience.

Paul Wilson For Sports was located next to a gas station in downtown Toronto, at the corner of Sherburne and Front. Needless to say, the store stood out like an oasis of human challenge in a sea of concrete and automobiles.

This unique sports store seemed to embellish its surroundings and left a lasting impression on those curious enough just to stop, and investigate the nature of the business.

The first time I entered the store I was taken aback by the amount of equipment crammed into a small space. Goalie pads stood floor to ceiling. Although dilapidated, the building and the store held their own inner beauty and charm. But the true measure of the store's character was reflected by the proprietor.

I was greeted by two men - one a giant of a man who introduced himself as Paul Wilson and the other was Paul's son Rick whose introduction included the welcome that "we are all goalies here".

My initial introduction was a faint precursor of the satisfaction felt by so many when they drew on the service and expertise in the field of goalie equipment from these two men. In the opinion of many, these two were the best in their profession.

During my frequent visits to the store, I noticed that goaltenders from all over North America and Europe visited Paul Wilson For Sports. They came not only for the equipment, but for the camaraderie that is so unique to members of the goaltending fraternity. They would congregate to exchange ideas about style, equipment and innovations. Both Wilsons provided a sound base for any discussion. Son Rick has aspired to play in the pros but a heart condition prevented him from fulfilling that dream. He channelled his passion into training goaltenders.

As with so many things in life, the true pioneers are often forgotten, swept aside by others who garnered more publicity. I ran into Paul's daughter recently, and she seemed saddened that her father's contributions to goaltending had been swept aside and forgotten. She reminded me of the great tan debate.

When I was first hanging around Paul Wilson For Sports, a university student majoring in English and Politics, with a passion for repairing goalie equipment on the side, Paul, Rick, and I had this great discussion over the fact that goalie pads came in one colour, tan. Paul wanted to know why goalies couldn't be as colourful as their teammates. My reply was that it was not cost effective for parents. If their sons changed teams, and changed colours, costs could become prohibitive. I argued that consumers would not buy the change. Of course Paul chose the different path, relying on his gut instincts, which again, as had happened so many time before, had become the norm.

Paul always said that it was instinct and building on experience that helped him run the business. "You can have all the education in the world", Paul would say, "but who gives a damn? The question is achieving access to what you want to do. If you are good, no matter how big the wall is, you will come busting through".

If I could offer words of comfort to Paul's daughter, they would be that her Dad's style suited a different period of time, when life seemed simpler, and personal service counted for much more than strictly price. I would tell her that the little store at Sherburne and Front was much more than a retail outlet. It was the epitome of goodwill and caring, that was more a reflection of the owner than what he sold.

Prior to his heart attack, Paul offered me a glimpse at the secret of his success. One time, Paul took out a little black book and told me to guess how many goalies were named therein. I told him I could not. Instead of giving me a number, Paul told me it was 30 years worth of love, pride and hard work. It seemed that each name had a note. It was the person, not the number that was important.

The little black book was Paul's biography, a work in progress that had started 30 years before. The man and the store were one and the same. Their conscience had travelled the world. For him, the struggle to succeed was based on the bottom line of human worth and caring. Not solely the financial bottom line. It was the best of times. Without people like Paul, unfortunately we have drifted into the worst of times.