Walter Gretzky leaves an incredible legacy as Canada's and the sport of hockey's royal father.

Sad news last night as word reverberated around social media that Walter Gretzky had passed away at 82 years of age. His health had taken a turn for the worse so much so that the family including Wayne had travelled home to be with him. He leaves behind one of the most unique legacies in Canadian history. A father of five children, three of which played pro hockey, two others who followed various athletic endeavors to the best of their ability, Walter, the former longtime Bell technician became the face for all hockey Dads who built a backyard rink or drove their children to countless games, practices and tournaments. The fact that his own sheet of ice located at the house he raised his family in with his wife Phyllis at 42 Varadi in Brantford, Ontario spawned the birth of the greatest offensive force in the history of the sport fueled most of his image but as we’ve all come to know especially since his stroke in 1991 this man and his legacy are so much more than the fact he is Wayne Gretzky’s father.

The stroke Walter suffered 30 years ago should have killed him. He was 53 years old and was not expected to make it through the night. It is a remarkable story that’s been documented and highlighted in film. The upside of it all is the Gretzky family, his friends and thousands of others myself included got to meet him, spend time with him and rejoice in his love of hockey. The downside and frankly it hardly seemed to matter as the years rolled by but his memory had large gaps that over time increased and his life became more of a celebration for his involvement in numerous charities and the tremendous support he offered them simply by his participation and attendance.

Ironically as some of you know I recently wrote about meeting Walter ( and Wayne ) for the first time in 1999 and the fantastic day and night we had with him, his youngest son Glen and a group of others who travelled to Buffalo to watch Wayne play and later meet him. It truly was an amazing day. At the homestead I did a formal interview with Walter but also got the tour that he loved to give to everybody and anybody who dropped by the house. As we went through a number of Wayne’s iconic memorabilia he’d say, ‘okay Liam this is the stick Wayne scored his 500th goal with or the gloves he wore when he got 50 goals in game 39 or the sweater he wore when Edmonton won their first Cup. Can you tell me the details? And I’d fill in every blank or question he had and he just loved it. We had so much fun during those four hours at the house, I will never, ever forget it. He absolutely insisted I put on the sweater in the accompanying photo. This is from the 1987 Canada Cup, the jersey, gloves and stick used by Wayne in the three greatest hockey games ever played, the ’87 Canada cup final. What an honour.

That may have been an honour for me but for Walter he had something else he was every bit as proud of and it was not in ‘the trophy room.’ It was upstairs in their living room adjacent to their kitchen. On the wall was a painting. A life like print of a landing craft on June 6, 1944, D-Day. On the bottom of the frame was a small button. He told me to push it. I did. An audio clip began playing of a Sergeant on a landing craft, undoubtedly much like the one in this print. The audio clip was the Sergeant laying out the orders once the craft hit land. Obviously it was taped by somebody imbedded with the group. I listened to it, spellbound and glanced sideways at Walter who equally was fixed on the words, the voice, the painting and to be honest folks, the hair on the back of my neck is going up as I type this. Cause here’s the thing;

Walter’s Dad and his mother immigrated to Chicago them to Canada so he could enlist in the Canadian army to fight in the First World War. His name was Tony. He was Walter’s Dad, Wayne’s grandfather and he fought for Canada and the world’s freedom during that horrible conflict. He survived the war and raised seven children with his wife Mary on a farm in Canning, Ontario. It was on that farm where Wayne first learned to skate. Walter made a point of telling me that no hockey memorabilia was kept upstairs. This was all that was on their main living room wall when I was there in 1999. The man loved Canada and he grew up with our winter national sport and raised his children with his wife to be the best they could be but he was overtly proud of our veterans who gave us all the freedoms we enjoy today including his own father, Tony Gretzky.

I last saw Walter about 16 months ago thanks to my friend Marc Cashman who asked me to come to Toronto and help out at a function his group of collectors were having at Wayne Gretzky’s restaurant as it was entering its last few months before closing. The date was November 16, 2019. Walter ended up making an appearance. He was as gracious as always, signed dozens of items, posed for countless pictures. We had a brief conversation but even that was a strain on him and he looked like time was winding down on his incredible life. It’s why I’ve chosen to finish with this great poem by John Gillespie Magee titled, “High Flight”.

Although it was written under a different pretense, an American pilot who had enlisted in the RCAF and who died tragically in a training exercise in 1941, given the physical and mental challenges Walter was having in his last few years I felt it was appropriate to post here in his memory. God bless my friend! May your outdoor rink in heaven be in pristine condition, your coffee hot and ready, your family and friends who have gone before you ready for your arrival. You were one of a kind, Walter Gretzky. Rest in peace.

High Flight

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth

And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;

Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth

Of sun-split clouds, -and done a hundred things

You have not dreamed of—wheeled and soared and swung

High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there

I’ve chased the shouting wind alone and flung

My eager craft through footless halls of air…

Up, up the long, delirious burning blue

I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace

Where never lark nor ever eagle flew—

And, while with silent lifting mind I’ve trod

The high untrespassed sanctity of space

Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.