Maggie the Policeman

Only two years ago. the Chicago Black Hawks were the pigeons of the National Hockey League. Despite such superstars as Bobby Hull and Stan Mikita, the Hawks somehow wound up dead last in their division. Then came an astounding turnabout. Last year the Hawks suddenly swooped off with top honors in their division. This year their new-found talons have been sharp enough to earn them 23 victories and five ties in their first 34 games. Much of the credit goes to Goalie Tony Esposito, who set a league record of 15 shutouts in his rookie season last year. But at least an equal share goes to another newcomer, a cherubic-looking young fellow named Keith Magnuson, who shows the Hawks how to live up to their name.

Off the ice, Magnuson's bridgework gleams in a smile of childlike innocence, and bromides fall from his lips like gentle rain. On the ice, beware. The angelic face twists into a toothless snarl, while the bromides give way to threats of mayhem. Magnuson is a "policeman," a player whose job it is to keep the other team in line. Other than football, no team sport puts a greater premium on bodily contact than hockey--the crunching board check, the elbow-flailing combat for the puck behind the net, the boiling free-for-all over real or imagined irregularities. And as in football, the team that establishes its physical superiority is most often the one that wins. Says Conn Smythe, former president of the Toronto Maple Leafs: "You can't lick 'em on the ice if you can't lick 'em in the alley."

Like Mashing Marshmallows. Not that Magnuson actually goes looking for a fight. "That would be ridiculous," he says. But when trouble finds him or a teammate, Magnuson goes to work with fists, knees and elbows. No one is immune. The Detroit Red Wings' great Gordie Howe was one of Magnuson's childhood idols, but the very first time the 206-lb. Howe crashed head-on into the 185-lb. Magnuson, the youngster dropped his gloves and started swinging. The hard-nosed old warrior responded by soundly thrashing the rookie with several blows on the head. As he skated off, Howe muttered to one of Magnuson's teammates, "He's a tough kid. He'll learn."

Magnuson learned. Mashing rivals into the boards like marshmallows, the feisty young defenseman was involved in so many brawls that he piled up a total of 213 minutes in penalties his rookie season, highest mark in the National Hockey League. Trouble was, he often got as good as he gave. The karate lessons he had taken were of little help. "The secret of karate," he explains, "is using your feet to kick somebody. When your feet are in skates, it's not exactly legal." So during the off season, he studied boxing with former Bantamweight Champion Johnny Coulon. Result: this season Magnuson is again leading the league in penalties, only now he is leading with his left instead of his chin.

With Twelve Stitches. Magnuson has been challenging all comers since his childhood in Saskatoon, Sask. He was the youngest of three brothers who were known and feared in the local hockey leagues. After winning a scholarship to the University of Denver, he helped lead its hockey team to two national championships and was twice named All-America. One of the very few players ever to be recruited into the N.H.L. directly from a U.S. college, Magnuson bypassed the minor leagues and became a Hawk regular in his very first year.

When it comes to scoring, he scares no one (he has only one tally so far this season). But as a defenseman, he is quick enough to block more than his share of shots, and strong enough to overpower opponents in the corners or send them sprawling with jolting body checks. "My job is not to score goals," he says. "My job is to prevent the other team from scoring. After all, you are never going to get beat if the other team doesn't score." Or if some of their best players are not around to score. Earlier this season, Earl Heiskala of the Philadelphia Flyers tried to tangle with "Maggie," as Hawk fans affectionately call him. Putting his boxing lessons to good use, Magnuson decked Heiskala and sidelined him with a gashed lip that required twelve stitches.

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