Shribman: NHL goalies finally learning what skiers already know; laces can’t match the buckle

The boot buckle was thanks to the ingenuity of Swiss bike racer and stunt pilot Hans Martin. (File Photo)

Charlie Lindgren is an unusual character to appear in a ski magazine.

He went to St. Cloud University in Minnesota, but his sport there wasn’t skiing. His athleticism is on display indoors rather than amid the snowstorms and winter winds of downhill skiing. For him, falling is part of the sport, not a circumstance to be avoided. And yet, Charlie Lindgren has more in common with the weekend mountain cruiser than you might think. The secret is on his feet.

Have a look at those feet. They’re clad in a fashion familiar to all of us who have leaned over to adjust our downhill footwear. On the surface is a hard outer shell. Inside are removable liners. And bent around the entire enterprise are metal buckles.

What’s that? Is the Washington Capitals goalie wearing ski boots on the ice?

Almost. We know from our winter sport that technology has reshaped our recreational activities. Rope tows? Pretty much gone. J-Bars? When Black Mountain restored its classic lift on Whitney’s Hill recently and reverently, it was more an homage — a respectful bow to a beloved, long-faded past — than an efficient skier conveyance. T-Bars? There once were three dozen of these classics climbing New England hills. Sugarloaf installed one in this decade — it’s primarily for use by racers, another genus and species from the weekend skier — but otherwise these clunkers are in swift eclipse. Now there are more than a dozen six-packs climbing New England hills. Killington’s Snowden Six-Pack covers 1,114 feet of vertical drop.

Now let us pause for a moment to salute the buckle boot. It arrived in 1954, the product of the ingenuity of the Swiss bike racer and stunt pilot Hans Martin. In fairness, it was what we today call a hybrid, the buckles laid atop the traditional lacings, which were covered by boot flaps. The idea was to allow the boots to be loosened for ascending the hill and tightened when descending it.

“The buckle was far more powerful than any set of laces and could close a very stiff boot,” wrote Seth Masia, a Snowmass ski instructor and president of International Ski History. “Quick, short turns became possible, and the tail-wagging Wedeln technique became popular in ski schools around the world.”

Well, Hans Martin, you have some successors in winter sports — but on completely flat surfaces.

Let’s stroll into an NHL rink and we immediately will recognize a form of footwear that, in skiing, lost its novelty in the late 1960s. Buckle boots. In this case, buckle skates.

The mystery is why it took so long.

For years, while bending over my skates for the Tuesday evening rink outing that has become part of my winter routine, I have wondered why I have had to yank tight the lacings. On the weekend I crisply and efficient snap the buckles closed. Two days later I am hunched and huffing. 

But now: The Bauer Konekt goalie skate.

It’s as revolutionary as the contemporary hockey sticks fashioned with carbon-fiber sheets “impregnated” — that’s the verb sometimes employed to explain the technology — with partially cured resin. And Lindgren was the first goalie to import it to the NHL. By the beginning  of the 2022-23 hockey season, a dozen NHL goalies were wearing them.

Here’s why, according to Carolina Hurricanes goalie Antti Raanta: “You find your edges way easier because you have that little bit of bend,” he told NHL.com. “It just feels like you’re a little quicker with every movement. The game is getting faster, so if you can get even a little quicker, it’s always a plus.”

Goalies are learning what we skiers already know. 

Unlike the laces, the buckles don’t get wet. The boots have nice flex, though those of us heading downhill on a black-diamond run aren’t necessarily hoping to perform the kind of butterfly descents that goalies have mastered since Glenn Hall of the Chicago Blackhawks pioneered the technique. Plus it makes getting ready so much faster. That’s an advantage for all the COVID-era skiers who found themselves putting on their boots amid the bitter parking lot — and for goalies who seek a few moments of foot (and maybe ankle) relief between periods.

Now for the caveat that this column begs. 

No one — no one — considers a ski boot an entirely comfortable piece of apparel. We all hear from time to time skiers telling us that their boots feel like slippers. We all know that these sorts of critiques are confined to the ski shop when they settle on their new boots or before 11 a.m. at the ski lodge. No one — no one — confuses ski boots with moccasins after lunchtime. No one confuses ski boots with penny loafers. Or even with hiking boots.

My great Canadian ski companion Brian Puddington, the source of all wisdom on the hills, is within a few chairlifts of age 80. He’s an avid skier, even an energetic skier. He may own a winter home in Florida, where in the early 16th century the Spanish explorer Juan Ponce de León sought the mythical Fountain of Youth, but he’s not even contemplating hanging up his ski goggles. He says he won’t quit the sport when he finds it too demanding. Instead, he says, he’ll quit the sport when he can no longer put on his boots. 

Take heed, NHL goalies. You may have discovered a new piece of hockey footwear. But you have not discovered the Fountain of Youth.