"The puck goes back to (Detroit) defenseman Doug Barkley one night, Ted gives me a little jab in the back of the leg with his stick, I go up in the air and get hit right between the eyes with Barkley's shot. It cuts me for about 20 stitches, the game held up while I'm repaired," Johnston said.
"Second period, I give Ted a two-hander that put him out of action for about two weeks. A minute and a half to go in the game, I freeze the puck in the crease and Gordie skates by and gives me a little tap, cutting me for another dozen stitches, and says, 'That's for Ted.'"
Today, Johnston considers that he's had many more blessings than injuries. He cherishes Diane, his wife of 53 years -- "She was the boss then, and she's the boss now" -- their children, Michelle, E.J. and Joseph, grandchildren Lacey, Aiden, Jacob and Mason, and a warehouse of memories.
"I never thought I'd last as long in the game as I have," he said. "I've been blessed."
When the puck drops at Fenway Park for the Winter Classic, a small part of Johnston will be 300 miles north on a long-gone outdoor rink in Montreal. In his mind, he'll be back on a hometown sheet flooded by a park attendant's hose and groomed by boys with shovels, where his life in hockey began on Plymouth Grove's pure, perfect ice.