#TBT: Federko recalls simpler days of NHL offseason conditioning

Published May. 28, 2015 1:52 p.m. ET

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ST. LOUIS -- In the summer, there was no one pushing them.

That's how NHL Hall of Famer Bernie Federko, who played for the Blues from 1976-89 and for Detroit one year after that, describes offseason conditioning in his era, back in a time when nutritional plans, weight lifting and personal trainers were more alien than Star Trek. "Personal responsibility" is now a political catchphrase, but back in the day for an NHL player's summer, it was a way of life.

Federko's own conditioning regimen started in mid-July and consisted mainly of running and light weights. In August, he had a hockey school, which meant he at least got back on the ice.

"These guys now are being pushed," says Federko, now a Blues analyst on FOX Sports Midwest. "You can't work out to get into the shape that you need to play professionally (today) without having someone push you."

Not so in the era of bellbottoms and Bee Gees. One of the biggest changes in the mindset of NHL conditioning has been the role of training camp, which used to be less about showing up in shape than regaining it. Meanwhile, if you'd been a little too lazy, or a little too festive during the offseason, you were in for a rough camp, which back then lasted around 28 days and sometimes featured twice-a-day practices at the beginning.

"There were times when I was a few pounds overweight, and then it wasn't fun, because then you're not eating, you're trying to lose weight as quick as you can, because you've got to catch up to everybody," Federko says.

In fact, the first of those two-a-day on-ice sessions was often conducted without pucks. It was strictly skating, designed to get everyone in shape as quickly as possible.

"We were always a week before we played any (preseason) games," Federko says. "And then it was really kind of the young guys, the rookies got to play. The veterans really never played really for the first 10 or 12 days, because you really weren't in very good shape, so you didn't want to risk getting someone hurt that you know you were going to be able to count on during the season."

The smart players, however, knew to make the best of what they had. With games structured around longer shifts, players learned how to conserve energy at various times on the ice. It was part of the hockey IQ, figuring out when to jump into the play or save a breath, yet ensuring they weren't merely floating out on the ice. Federko, who played center, remembers racking up around 30 minutes of ice time in a game, or staying out for an entire power play, without it being perceived as a Herculean labor. Now, a 30-minute game is often averaged by only one or two elite defensemen in the league.

"You knew how to use your energy when you really needed it," Federko says. "We weren't going 100 miles per hour all the time because you read the play, you conserve your energy until you need it, and then you still have your explosion."

There was a different mindset to time spent on the ice outside of games, too. Federko remembers practice in his era lasting an hour and a half, but morning skates were often more casual than their current incarnations, which feature structured activity and players sporting full practice gear. But the older NHL took a casual, do-it-yourself approach, often without the coaching staff's supervision.

"You went out in sweats if you wanted to," Federko says. "You just went out there and you kind of just went through the motions, maybe tried your stick out. You maybe warmed up the goalie for a little bit."

Weight lifting, meanwhile, was considered a dangerous flirtation with a phenomenon known as "muscle-bound," where it was believed lifting weights would hurt other areas of athleticism such as flexibility. Steve Yzerman, Federko remembers, was one of the league's first superstars devoted to weight lifting. Their paths crossed for the 1989-90 season in Detroit.

"Steve was always in the weight room before practice, after practice. He wasn't really bulky, just got to be very strong," Federko says. "He was one of the first guys that I saw that would pound weights, pound weights and pound weights, and obviously, it helped him in his career."

Against the regimen of the past, Yzerman's approach stuck out like a sore thumb. The old guard had basically relied on running, riding the bike, light weights, maybe swimming, and overall using skating to get back into shape. And their only nutritional guide was superstition.

"You ate what you wanted," Federko says. "You looked at our pregame meal, was pasta and a steak. Later on, you had your choice -- fish, chicken, steak -- but again, just like you had success eating one thing, you just kept eating it."

It may be more scientific now, but Federko believes it might also be less fun.

"Some of these guys are so overboard with what they do, and some of the trainers are so overboard (with what) they want these guys to do, you're just taking away the life," he says.

Then again, he admits modern-day athletes trade more investment up front for a longer return. For the old-timers, it was likely they'd have to find a new career when their playing days were over. Now, players often make enough during their years in the league that life after hockey carries less pressure.

Overall, not a bad job if you can get it.

You can follow Elisabeth Meinecke on Twitter at @lismeinecke or email her at ecmeinecke@gmail.com.

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