After 50 years, it’s probably the coldest of cold cases.

In mid-winter of 1973, The Wesleyan Argus published a recap of the previous night’s Cardinal men’s ice hockey game.

While the opponent and the score are long forgotten, one sidenote remains fresh. In his piece recounting the game, The Argus sports reporter made a point to call out the poor performance of the game’s Zamboni operator. Between the first and second periods, noted the reporter, the Zamboni driver had laid too much water on the ice.

How much was too much? The Wesleyan goaltender, having made a few sprawling acrobatic saves, rose up from the ice surface with a drenched jersey and soaked goalie pads. Other skaters looked more like water skiers, creating watery plumes in their wake.

In what was probably a first in D3 college hockey, the referees were forced to stop a game for too much water on the ice. It took a work crew 10–15 minutes to squeegee the excess liquid from the surface. In his Argus article, the reporter remarked coldly, “Great job on the Zamboni, Mr. X.” A nameless schmo, Mr. X became an infamous footnote in the game recap.

But now, on the 50th anniversary of Wesleyan’s “Incident On Ice,” we’re ready to reveal the identity of Mr. X.

It was…drum roll, please…Bob Boucher ’73. And that’s me.

Yup. I was the offending party—an instant object of derision as the guy who momentarily washed out a Wes hockey game. It was a very humiliating moment in a life that featured a string of humiliating moments. It easily outranked, for example, a mortifying high school incident in which yours truly, ailing with a stomach bug, managed to projectile vomit out a friend’s car window in the school parking lot in front of the school’s cheerleading squad.

My ice follies at Wes in ’73 was played before the usual several hundred noisy rabid fans, including a group of friends who boisterously chanted my nickname, “Yogi,” as I swung the Zamboni by their section. I tried not to acknowledge my “friends,” but the truth was, I was distracted from my duties and was quickly paralyzed by the sheer magnitude of the moment.

While I’d practiced on ice for several weeks, this was the first time I worked an actual game. Under the bright lights and relentless scrutiny that come with being the Zamboni guy, I froze. Without getting too technical, I neglected to adjust the flow of water that fills in cracks and creases left by the skaters. Ever since, I’ve lived with the haunting question: why did I ever get behind that wheel?

Driving the machine off the ice, I got a good dressing down by the rink manager. Amazingly, I wasn’t fired for my transgression. Cleaning the ice at the Wes rink was my work-study gig, and I needed the extra cash. Truth be told, I probably would’ve done it for free. I was then, and remain to this day, a rink rat at heart and a diehard hockey nut.

There it is. I’ve held onto my secret life as “Mr. X” for five decades. It feels good to finally come clean. To this day, however, my Wes buddies still get a kick out of reminding me of “L’Affaire Zamboni.” Fine, guys, have your little fun. I can state without hesitation that I’m over it…mostly.

Bob Boucher, ’73

olddogbob@gmail.com

617.823.3698