"He kept muttering, his speech so garbled I thought he had broken his jaw. The head wound seemed slight, but I knew Ted was in serious trouble. When I tried to grab him, he pulled away from me, so I took him by the seat of the pants, and, with Phil holding him on the other side, we finally got him off the ice."
"My first thought was to get Maki," Orr said, "but by the time I got across the ice, he was swinging his stick while the Blues were trying to get him out of there. Then I went over to Teddy, who was stumbling around on his feet. I had no idea how badly hurt he was. I just said, 'Take it easy,' and stood and watched Dan and Phil lead him off."
"I was at the red line, right at center ice, when the fight started," Esposito recalled. "They were sparring over in the corner near the Bruins' goal when Maki went down on one knee. He got right up and hit Greenie over the head with the hardest part of his stick—at the bend where the shaft joins the blade. Greenie was down when I reached him, and he looked awful. When he got up his voice was fuzzy and he kept saying something like, 'I'm gonna get that sonofabitch. I'll kill him—I'll kill him.' His eyes were glassy, and spit or something was coming out of his mouth, which was all twisted on the left side. He looked so bad I was scared to death. I took him by the left side, and when Dan came he tried to take his right. But Greenie kept pulling away from him and telling us to leave him alone so he could get Maki. Canney was saying, 'It's all right, Teddy—it's all right,' but we both knew damn well it wasn't all right. We finally got Greenie off. I just went as far as the boards, and Dan took him from there.
"When I started back, Maki was taking wild swipes with his stick to keep us away from him. I don't blame him for being scared. I guess he thought we really would kill him. We were all trying to get at him until the Blues pulled him off the ice. Later I was thrown out for heckling the referee. I told him he was calling a lousy game and should have stopped the fight. I guess I called him a few names, and he gave me a 10-minute misconduct. I didn't give a damn. All I could think of was that funny look in Greenie's eyes, and the funny way he was talking."
"After Maki knocked Green down, I thought the whole Bruins team would go nuts," said Howard Darwin, owner of Ottawa's junior hockey team, the 67s, who saw the game. "They poured off their bench heading for Maki, but somebody hustled him into one of the rooms. He got dressed and later I saw him watching the game in street clothes from upstairs."
I don't remember leaving the ice or how I got into one of the rooms beneath the arena stands. I have a vague recollection of sitting on a table trying to get my eyes to focus properly. There were a lot of people milling around, but few I recognized. One was Frosty Foristall, who seemed very agitated about something, and I think Eddie Johnston was in the room. I don't remember seeing Canney. Still dazed, my eyes watery, my speech almost unintelligible, I wondered what all the excitement was about, because in those few minutes I really didn't think I was badly hurt. I kept grabbing Foristall's jacket and mumbling at him, but I don't know what I said. When I heard somebody mention a stretcher and an ambulance, I tried to yell, but the words didn't come out right. My tongue seemed all twisted up. A couple of doctors were there, and one told me to lie down so he could put a stitch in my scalp. When I did, it suddenly felt very, very good. The doctor worked on me for only a few seconds. Then I heard Frosty (or maybe it was Canney) screaming, apparently in an argument with somebody. I didn't know. I didn't care, I just lay there, kind of comfortable, wishing everybody would go away and leave me alone.
I remember somebody grabbing me and taking off my skates, pads and shirt, but the rest of my equipment—pants, underclothing, shoulder pads, jockstrap—all stayed on. The next thing I knew I was being moved, and I guess people thought I was unconscious, but I wasn't. My left hand felt tingly, and I remember a lot of faces, none of which I recognized.
After they lifted me into an ambulance, my hand seemed worse. The tingly feeling changed to numbness. Frosty was with me, but I don't recall if we talked or anything except being wheeled along a corridor, with walls, ceiling and people speeding by because they were wheeling me so fast. I was taken into a brightly lit room and put on a table, where nurses and guys trying to take off the rest of my clothes all seemed jumbled together.
Now my head was beginning to hurt badly, and I was getting mad at everybody for trying to strip me without damaging any of my equipment. This was ridiculous, because we rip that stuff off all the time when we have to—what's the sense of trying to save a jock? I was trying to tell the nurse to cut everything off. My head was hurting and I wanted somebody to do something about it. The nurse didn't pay any attention, but kept trying to take that junk off as if it were a ballet skirt. Maybe she couldn't make out what I was saying. Or perhaps she didn't understand English, since this was a predominantly French hospital. Anyhow, somebody else came along and finally cut off the stuff and covered me up.
I must have passed out for a few minutes, because the next thing I remember was asking for the last rites of the church, and I remember the priest coming in. It was the first time I had ever asked for last rites, and I didn't know what to say and couldn't have made myself understood if I had known. He told me not to try to talk, and he touched my forehead and said something I couldn't understand. He asked me questions, but I don't remember what they were—or maybe he asked me before he told me not to talk. It's all mixed up in my mind, except I must have finally realized that I was badly hurt.