Does size matter in the WHL?

by Eric Welsh - The Progress

October 24, 2007

The Smurfs were a bunch of happy fellows who hung around in an enchanted forest all day, frolicking among the trees — tormenting an evil wizard named Gargamel and his cat, Azreal.

And in the evening, when the business of Smurfing was done, they would often venture indoors to play hockey for the Chilliwack Bruins.

Okay. Brandon Campos does not have blue skin and Jadon Potter does not wear a silly white hat, but their Smurfish dimensions do make for easy comparisons to the 1980s cartoon characters.

There are 22 teams in the Western Hockey League, and Chilliwack’s forward core collectively ranks 17th in height with an average of 71.50 inches, and 16th in weight with an average of 185.57 pounds.

Campos and Potter are indeed the wee ones. Campos stands 68 inches (five-foot-eight). Potter towers above him at 69 inches (five-foot-nine).

“I’ve grown up with the height issue and I’ve learned to adjust to it,” Campos said after Tuesday’s practice. “There are defencemen out there who don’t care how small you are. They’re going to hit you no matter what. I’ve dealt with it in other leagues and now I’m dealing with it in the WHL.”

Of the 14 forwards listed on the Chilliwack Bruins roster, eight stand less than six feet tall. Rookie forward Liam Darragh is a tree among saplings in the locker room at six-foot-four.

Yet somehow the Bruins defy conventional wisdom and make their Smurf Squad work. They rarely get bullied by opposing teams and they spend a lot of time creating havoc with their lethal combination of speed and skill.

In a 6-2 rout of Seattle last week, Campos and company drew three hooking/holding/interference penalties when T-Bird players just couldn’t keep up.
Chilliwack defenceman Matt McCue believes the Bruins forwards succeed because they’re a bunch of little guys who play like a bunch of big guys.

Campos says that’s part of his survival strategy. Taking the game to the opposition prevents them from taking the game to him.

Durability has always been a big part of the argument against using smaller forwards — the prevailing wisdom being a guy with a bigger frame can survive the physical nature of hockey better than his diminutive counterpart.

Can a guy Campos’s size really survive the grind of a 72-game season when he’s being pounding into the boards on a nightly basis by much bigger players?

Campos points to his BCHL days as proof that those concerns are baseless.
“In junior A I played 60 games in a season plus another 20 playoff games,” he says. “And durability was never a problem. Maybe if I got hit a lot it would be an issue. But even if I’m going up against a D-man who’s twice the size of me, half the time he’s not going to hit me. I’ve got the mentality that I’m not going to get touched because I can skate better than him.”

McCue jokingly points out that he’s the biggest guy on the team and he’s also probably the most injury prone.

The 19-year-old Albertan is the tallest Bruin at six-foot-five and weighs 201 pounds.
The Bruins defence, collectively, ranks eighth in height with an average of 73.88 inches, and fourth in weight with an average of 198.50 pounds. McCue says there’s a definite upside to being a big blueliner.

“Obviously it gives you a reach advantage,” he says. “You take up more space on the ice and opposing forwards have farther to go to get around you. You can control guys easier in the corners too.”

Weight, in this case muscle mass, has obvious benefits as well.

“You’re stronger everywhere,” McCue says. “You’re stronger hitting the guy and holding the guy and stronger on your feet. You have more leverage when you lean in on guys. Your shot is harder. Having that weight behind everything you do makes such a difference.”

McCue is also blessed with a huge wingspan. When he stretches his arms out they seem to reach from one side of the rink to the other. Opposing forwards frequently find themselves with nowhere to go when they venture into his territory.

“My wingspan is forever long,” McCue says matter-of-factly. “I’ve got a long stick and long arms. All my track suits are size XXL and the arms still aren’t long enough for me.”

McCue says his reach has saved him from taking a lot of penalties. He’s able to poke a puck away from a speedy forward where smaller defencemen would probably have to hook or hold to make the play.

On the flipside, McCue says he takes more penalties because his size often puts him in awkward positions.

“If I go to hit someone and their head is at my elbow, then I take an elbowing penalty just because they’re short,” he explains. “Referees are looking at a big guy like me expecting me to do something bad.”

Maybe that’s why the Prince George Cougars struggle. According to the numbers, Chilliwack’s northern rival has the tallest defence, averaging 74.78 inches, and the heaviest, averaging 208.22 pounds.

But no one had surrendered more goals heading into last weekend’s games than the Cougars, who’ve seen opponents light the lamp 46 times.

“You can be seven feet tall, but you still have to have coordination to use that height effectively,” McCue notes. “Some guys in the league have no coordination and they’re falling all over the place.

McCue says he’s been six-feet-four since his bantam days and he’s still learning to play with his frame.

Campos saw a great deal of the Portland Winter Hawks last year and adds one more thought to the discussion.

Portland has the fourth tallest defensive corp in the league, averaging 74.44 inches. But they’re a skinny bunch, ranking 15th in the league at an average of 190.11 pounds per man.

“They’re big but they haven’t filled out yet,” Campos observes. “They’re rebuilding and they have a young team. I don’t know if any of their D-men are over 210 pounds. Once they fill out, they will become a tough team to play against.”

One final note. Last season’s WHL championship series finalists, the Medicine Hat Tigers and Vancouver Giants, both rank at or near the bottom in terms of average height and weight.

Further proof that maybe the Bruins are on the right track after all.