And Now, Young Denis Potvin Will Remind You Why Playoff Beards Rule

Potvin (left) and his Paul Bunyan-destroying beard. Image: NHL

Potvin (left) and his Paul Bunyan-destroying beard. Image: NHL

If there had to be only one model of endurance, of what it means to die hard, it’s the mighty playoff beard.

Nothing says “I will last” like a burled, impenetrable bunch of hair flowing wildly from forth your face.

And for you men who’ve lived life on the fence regarding beards, repeat this to yourself next time you look into that medicine cabinet mirror: I don’t need a deadly wrist shot or the ability to level men twice my weight to rock what mother nature gave me. And if there’s one time in the year I’ll allow myself to do this, it’s during the NHL playoffs, so I can join my brothers in our collective expression of masculinity, so help me (insert deity).

You probably won’t remember all that, so as long as it sounds the same, you’re good.

Just because life’s a fight doesn’t mean your playoff beard should look like it. Beards should look good, playoffs or not. Once you wash and pat dry yours, work some of our balm into the thing (two to three pumps will do). It won’t look like you’ve tried, plus all those would-be wiry strands will stay put.

Just because life’s a fight doesn’t mean your playoff beard should look like it. Beards should look good, playoffs or not. Once you wash and pat dry yours, work some of our balm into the thing (two to three pumps will do). It won’t look like you’ve tried, plus all those would-be wiry strands will stay put.

Not all will understand the ancient meaning in sporting a beard. Some will even dare deem it a faux pas.

Remember that time in 2015 when former NBC Sports chairman, Mark Lazarus, tried to liken the playoff beard to not being a standup individual (he also likened clean-shaven men to boys, so you decide which is weirder)?

“The players won’t like this, but I wish they all would stop growing beards in the postseason,” Lazarus said. “Let’s get their faces out there. Let’s talk about how young and attractive they are. What model citizens they are. (Hockey players) truly are one of a kind among professional athletes. “I know it’s a tradition and superstition, but I think (the beards do) hurt recognition. They have a great opportunity with more endorsements. Or simply more recognition with fans saying, ‘That guy looks like the kid next store,’ which many of these guys do.”

Yes, people like this exist.

But the ones who leave it all on the ice, day in, day out? Trust that those men still care. Count on men like Anaheim Duck right winger, David Backes, who in 2019 declared his playoff beard a “badge of honour” in an interview with USA Today Sports back when he was Boston Bruin.

Backes has such balls he’d even do things like pull on Leafs veteran Joe Thornton’s beard, an absolute universe unto itself if we’re being honest.

It takes balls to wear a proper beard, one with heft and a hint of rebellion. And in showing you how to wear the best one, we could show you some of hockey’s greatest.

But really, there’s only one man who did this like no one else, and that man is none other than former New York Islander defenceman and two-time Norris trophy winner, Denis Charles Potvin.

Legend has it the playoff beard was born in the spring of 1980, when Captain Potvin and his indomitable New York Islanders barrelled their way to the first of their four straight Stanley Cup wins. Some sources you’ll find online claim the Isles abandoned grooming altogether when the drain of playing several games in few nights in the 1980 NHL playoffs saw them spent.

There are other, less practical stories that allege the beards were a modest symbol of team bonding, and if nothing else, that thing that showed the world crossed the finish line. The mark of a survivor, if you will.

But why Potvin's beard, and not his teammate and right wing legend, Mike Bossy’s, right?

For one, the Hall of Famer’s beard was a cut above, but not for its size or length; the Ottawa native achieved (and likely without realizing it) follicular equilibrium; his beard was neither too long nor too short. It had presence, but it never stood out.

And if the guy had a say in this article, he’d pass the torch to Butch Goring, another one of his Cup-winning teammates whose grit grew with each game, though his beard — a scragglier, if not nobler effort — did not.

Ladies and gents, here are the only two reasons that make Denis Potvin’s playoff beard the pound-for-pounder, and the one against which all the rest should be measured (even today):

I. Heft

The cruelest of all determinators when it comes to apex beards. Either you’re born with genes that lead to thick beard growth, or you’re not. Not long ago, we published a piece on men with coarse body hair, and it comes down to an enzyme we make called 5-alpha reductase. That enzyme, in turn, helps produce something called dihydrotestosterone (or “DHT”), a hormone that dictates hair growth and texture. Here’s why this matters: When 5-alpha reductase drops in quantity, so does hair growth. But when the enzyme’s abundant, so is hair.

Potvin’s was the kind of lottery luck that many men envy — he grew a thick, bronzed mane that would’ve had Leonidas looking twice. It wasn’t an attempt at a beard (poor Sebastian Aho, but at least you’re a nasty stick handler), but the kind that presides at the business end of a beard scale. If he was packing in 5-alpha reductase at the time, no one ought to be surprised.

II. Balance

Potvin’s beard was much like his playing style; he’d hide in the weeds, only to spring out then put you on your ass if you looked down. But, the bruiser in him was offset by a one-two punch in solid skating and natural goal scoring.

The same went for Potvin’s beard. It was clear the man liked his whiskers trimmed to both preserve shape and style (and there’s a good chance he groomed his once to twice a week, man codes be damned).

His wasn’t a mass of wizard hair, the kind worn with pride by guys San Jose Sharks All-Star, Brent Burns (and you have to admit, that takes balls, too).

At the same time, you couldn’t see skin under that thing.

It was both big, yet not. It was there, but it winked instead of waved.

How To Nail It:

The best and surest way to do this is with clippers, and the simplest, yet more durable always win. If you’ve got a big beard, you’ll need to bring it down some. Grab a guard size no lower than a three, and if you want to start with a four to see how things shape out, go for it.

If you’re growing your beard, just let nature do the work. But, check for stragglers and wiry ones every now and if you catch any, leave them to the mercy of a good pair of scissors.


Today’s New York Islanders aren’t stacked with stars like the Potvins, Bossy’s and Tottiers from that hallowed four-year stretch.

But they are a damn good hockey team again, having dispensed of East Coast rivals, the Boston Bruins, in six games playoff games to reach their second consecutive Stanley Cup semifinals in two seasons.

In a grievous twist of irony, though, the Islanders GM is Lou Lamoriello, and if you know hockey, you know two things about this man: He builds championship teams (just ask the Detroit Red Wings of the ‘90s) and he hates facial hair. Old Lamoriello loathes seeing moustaches, goatees and the rest so much, in fact, that he’s imposed a no-beard rule on his players. That’s why one Islander, the recently acquired Kyle Palmieri — who once wore a respectable beard as a New Jersey Devil — now looks like John Tavares did at 12.

It’s a good thing, then, that plenty of other NHLers keep their facial hair good and flowing.

For what are we without tradition?

Long live the playoff beard.