Bryan Joseph Watson was a rambunctious little defenseman whose heart was several times bigger than his undersized body. Serving as the Penguins’ first “policeman,” he earned a reputation for being one of the toughest players in the game. One of its supreme pests, too.
“I felt it when Bryan came to say hello in the corners,” said Pens teammate Ken Schinkel, who played against Watson on many occasions. “You always knew you got hit when ‘Bugsy’ got to you.”
Watson came by his colorful nickname honestly. As a callow 23-year-old utility player with the Detroit Red Wings, he was assigned the awesome task of shadowing Chicago’s legendary Bobby Hull in the 1966 Stanley Cup Semi-Finals.
It was like David versus Goliath on ice. Watson weighed 165 pounds soaking wet. The powerful Hull was a golden-haired Adonis who possessed the body and strength of a blacksmith.
Undaunted, Watson resorted to tactics both legal and illegal, including a liberal dose of stick work, to hold “the Golden Jet” in check. Indeed, he stuck so close to Hull that he was labeled “the Boy on Bobby’s Back.”
Hull was less flattering. Apocryphal or not, as the story goes when asked about his tormentor the normally gracious Hull steamed, “Boy, does that guy bug me!” Hence, Watson’s colorful nickname.
When “Bugsy” arrived in Pittsburgh in January 1969 as part of a big six-player trade with Oakland, the Pens were mired in the West Division cellar and hopelessly out of playoff contention. They were reasonably skilled by expansion team standards, but sadly lacking in character and grit.
That all changed from the moment Watson first stepped onto the Civic Arena ice. Suddenly opponents who tried to take liberties with his less combative teammates found themselves nose-to-nose with the little roughneck. Not coincidentally, the Pens rallied sharply and played nearly .500 hockey down the homestretch.
Management took note. By the start of the 1969–70 season, the Pens had added several rugged skaters to the mix, including abrasive winger Glen “Slats” Sather. It was a good thing, too, because the bad blood that had been boiling between the Pens and the division-leading St. Louis Blues erupted into an on-ice version of the Hatfields and the McCoys. When the teams clashed in the Stanley Cup Semi-Finals, Watson and Sather nearly drove the heavily favored Blues crazy with their acid-tongued barbs and antics.
“They were constantly chirping at us from the bench,” recalled Bob Plager, one of the Blues’ rough-and-tumble Plager brothers. “But when Barclay or I would challenge them to go a round, they’d just laugh at us and say, ‘See you next shift.’”
Watson’s confrontational style made him wildly popular in Pittsburgh. Although far from physically imposing and average with his dukes at best, he was nonetheless a very effective on-ice cop. He even tangled with the greatest player of his generation, Bruins superstar Bobby Orr, no shrinking violet.
“Pound for pound, he was the toughest and most hard-nosed player ever,” said John Ferguson, a former Montreal teammate and NHL heavyweight champ.
However, the rules of engagement abruptly changed in 1972 when the Philadelphia Flyers assembled a gang of two-fisted brawlers known as “the Broad Street Bullies.” In an effort to protect its core of budding young stars, the Pens dealt Watson and Greg Polis to the hated Blues in January 1974 for tough guys Steve Durbano and Bob “Battleship” Kelly. The torch had been passed.
Reunited with Sather, his old partner in crime, Watson had a brief stay with the Blues before returning to Detroit. He quickly became a card-carrying member of one of the tougher teams of that era, skating alongside bruising Dan Maloney and feisty Dennis Polonich. After departing from the Motor City, Bugsy joined the Washington Capitals before finishing his pro career with the Cincinnati Stingers of the World Hockey Association in 1979.
Colorful to the end, Watson told a story of how he had a rare breakaway opportunity with the Capitals one night. Chugging in all alone on the opposing goaltender, he made his move, cut loose a shot…and missed the net by 30 feet.
When he returned to the bench, his exasperated coach, Tommy McVie, demanded an explanation. Ever the cut-up, Watson quipped, “Coach, I just couldn’t get my stick out of cross check.
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RickI
loved Bugsy Watson. He had this way of baiting guys — letting them think they had a clear lane to carry the puck into the corner — and then he’d hit them with everything he had. It was beautiful to watch. The best part was what happened next: they would come out of the corner swinging, throwing punches like he’d just been mugged. Bugsy didn’t just play the game; he played the man. He was a true tough customer, and seeing him work brought a kind of raw, electric energy to the rink that you don’t forget. This is really, really, bringing back some great memories. Keep it going.
I'm looking for McSorley next. LOL