Go deeper: the story of the 67’s war paint
For years, the Ottawa 67’s playoff tradition of the eye black has been shrouded in mystery, but in Season 3, Episode 7 of Between Barber Poles, Zenon Konopka shared the story with the 2023-24 version of the team.
The story begins in 2001, with the 67’s struggling to clinch their spot in the postseason. They had just lost a game on the road, and were sliding to within a single point of ninth place. On the bus ride home, Konopka sat in his seat, brainstorming ways to motivate the team.
On the screen in front of him, Saving Private Ryan was playing, and as he continued to ponder, thoughts of his family who had served popped into his mind. Instantly, he knew what he was going to say to his teammates when they got home.
“We all have connections to veterans of war,” Konopka said. “We had a players-only meeting where I said to the guys we needed to leave it all on the line. We weren’t the most talented group, but it’s about sacrifice, that’s the biggest word we talked about.”
“I asked what we were really worried about sacrificing. We were all between the ages of 16 and 20, and 50 or 60 years before that, guys our age had to actually go to war where their life was on the line. Why were we worried about blocking a shot or taking a hit?”
For most leaders, the speech itself would have been enough, but Konopka – the fiery leader he was with the 67’s – took it a step further, finding a symbol for their newfound commitment to one another.
“I said we should put war paint on, and I grabbed a Sharpie and put it on my face,” Konopka recalled. “I handed it to the next guy, and he did the same. Someone asked me ‘What if it doesn’t come off?’ I said ‘Who cares?’ That was part of it, you don’t care about the ramifications of the future.”
Konopka says the group bought in immediately. There was no need to force anyone, but it didn’t end there.
“I gave guys homework,” Konopka said. “Everyone had to go home and find a connection with someone who went to war, and I wanted everyone to come back with someone. They did, and we sat in the dressing room and talked about everyone’s connection, and it reset us.”
“We talked about how wars would go on for five or six years,” Konopka said. “My uncle was in Italy in Montecristo for five years, and they won a huge battle there that helped win the Second World War. We talked about this stuff, and every time there was a little dip, I found a way to bring it back to sacrifice.”
With the tradition still in its infancy, the 67’s downed the fifth-seed North Bay Centennials in the first round of the playoffs, and prepared themselves for a meeting with the first-seed Belleville Bulls.
This time, the 67’s were heavy underdogs – as they would be for the remainder of their playoff run. Konopka remembers people in Ottawa papers writing stories about how they didn’t stand a chance, likening it to the 2024 J. Ross Robertson Cup Final.
The task that stood before them was herculean, but Konopka again reached for his Sharpie, striping two black lines below his left eye, symbolizing the ongoing war, and sparking belief once more among his teammates.
And so it would continue. The Barber Poles took down the Bulls, earning another stripe. Then, they swept the Toronto St. Michael’s Majors, paving their way to the OHL Final, where they faced the Plymouth Whalers.
From almost nothing, the 67’s came together as a band of brothers, and won the franchise’s third J. Ross Robertson Cup, earning their place in the 2001 Memorial Cup in Regina.
Konopka says of the three titles he’s won in his hockey career – a Memorial Cup with Ottawa in 1999, and a Kelly Cup with the Idaho Steelheads in 2004 – his claim as OHL champions in 2001 stands above the rest.
Still tied closely to his beloved 67’s roots, Konopka wanted to share his wisdom with the current players after their Game 1 loss to the Brantford Bulldogs in the first round of the 2024 OHL Playoffs, and found time to meet them at Luca Pinelli’s house, before quickly leaving for a scheduled appearance in Buffalo at a Sabres alumni event.
He wanted the players to understand the meaning of the tradition, and take it as seriously as the group in 2001 did.
“I was taken aback by how well it was received,” Konopka said. “When I left Luca’s house, I knew they were winning the next game. I could see it in their eyes, they were going to win.”
In that round, in particular, Konopka’s words rang through the dressing room like a bell. Players ditched the new fancy eye paint in favour of the old-school Sharpie, and bought into what they were told.
It worked, and now, the war paint has its meaning back once more.
