"I just have a lot of respect for Terry and his family. He played without a mask, and his life was tragically ended. And it just means a lot to me to be up there with him and the other greats that have played that long"
About this Quote
Belfour is doing two things at once: honoring a dead peer and quietly staking his own claim to immortality without sounding like he’s angling for it. The phrase “respect for Terry and his family” lands like hockey’s version of a condolence card, but it’s also a signal that grief here is communal and inherited. Goalies are loners by job description; this is Belfour stepping out from the crease to acknowledge the human network around the legend.
“Played without a mask” is the line that carries the cultural freight. It’s not just a historical detail about Terry Sawchuk’s era; it’s a shorthand for an older, harsher hockey mythology where toughness was literal exposure. Belfour invokes it as a kind of moral credential: Sawchuk didn’t just play well, he paid in blood. That makes the next clause - “his life was tragically ended” - feel like a quiet indictment of how the sport once normalized risk and pain, then acted surprised by the consequences.
Then Belfour pivots: “it just means a lot to me to be up there with him.” The modesty (“means a lot”) is strategic. Athletes are expected to be grateful, not grandiose, especially when speaking in the shadow of someone who died. Belfour still wants the record-book halo - “the other greats that have played that long” - but he frames longevity as belonging to a lineage, not a personal conquest. The subtext is clear: greatness isn’t only peak performance; it’s endurance, and endurance is inseparable from sacrifice.
“Played without a mask” is the line that carries the cultural freight. It’s not just a historical detail about Terry Sawchuk’s era; it’s a shorthand for an older, harsher hockey mythology where toughness was literal exposure. Belfour invokes it as a kind of moral credential: Sawchuk didn’t just play well, he paid in blood. That makes the next clause - “his life was tragically ended” - feel like a quiet indictment of how the sport once normalized risk and pain, then acted surprised by the consequences.
Then Belfour pivots: “it just means a lot to me to be up there with him.” The modesty (“means a lot”) is strategic. Athletes are expected to be grateful, not grandiose, especially when speaking in the shadow of someone who died. Belfour still wants the record-book halo - “the other greats that have played that long” - but he frames longevity as belonging to a lineage, not a personal conquest. The subtext is clear: greatness isn’t only peak performance; it’s endurance, and endurance is inseparable from sacrifice.
Quote Details
| Topic | Legacy & Remembrance |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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