Skates on the Floor: Kings Honor Scouts Lost on 9/11

The polished wood floor holds the weight of history. A pair of vintage skates rests there, laces tied tight, blades catching the light like frozen moments in time. It is a still image, but the silence it creates is loud. For the Los Angeles Kings, this quiet reflection marks a specific anniversary. Twenty-five years have passed since the morning the world tilted, yet the organization still feels the pull of two men who never arrived back home. Garnet "Ace" Bailey and Mark Bavis were not just names on a list. They were the scouts, the mentors, the early risers who built the foundation of a franchise that still wears their names on its patches.

They were aboard United Airlines Flight 175, a Boeing 767 that departed Boston Logan International Airport bound for Los Angeles. The morning was clear, the sky a pale, indifferent blue. Inside the cabin, the hum of engines was the only sound. Bailey, a veteran of thirty-three seasons, sat near the window. Bavis, only thirty-one, looked out at the shrinking coastline. Neither knew that their journey would end not in California, but in the smoldering ruins of the World Trade Center. The plane struck the South Tower, and with it, two lives that had been deeply woven into the fabric of professional hockey.

Legacy Etched in Ice

The Kings have refused to let the years wash away their contributions. Instead, they have carved their names into the team’s identity. The Mark Bavis Award now recognizes the league's best newcomer, a title that honors Bavis’s promising start in the professional ranks. It is a sharp, bright spotlight on emerging talent, mirroring the potential he carried when he boarded that flight. The Ace Bailey Award, meanwhile, is reserved for the player who embodies leadership. It is a different kind of honor, one that values the quiet work of inspiring others, the ability to hold a locker room together, and the spirit of a true team player.

Dave Taylor, the former general manager who worked closely with both men, speaks of these awards with a sense of solemn continuity. He notes that the organization has remained deeply involved in fundraising for the Bailey and Bavis families over the decades. "They are always part of the family and always will be," Taylor says. The words carry the weight of a promise kept. The patches on the helmets are not just decorative. They are a daily reminder, a visible thread connecting the past to the present, ensuring that the men who scouted for the future are never truly gone.

Ace Bailey's Warm Presence

Bailey was a man who filled rooms with his energy. Born in Lloydminster, Saskatchewan, he spent the late 1960s as a player for the Boston Bruins, winning Stanley Cups in 1970 and 1972. But his story did not end on the ice. He transitioned into scouting, eventually becoming the director of pro scouting for the Kings. By 2001, he had contributed to five more championships, a testament to his eye for talent. Taylor remembers him as outgoing and generous. Bailey would introduce himself to everyone, breaking the ice before the puck ever dropped. He was the glue that held the staff together, the one who welcomed new scouts with open arms and included them in every event.

There were times when the Kings held meetings in Phoenix, and Bailey would arrive days early. He would secure a room with a small kitchenette, not to rest, but to cook. He would prepare meals for the entire staff, turning a business trip into a communal experience. Dinner was a ritual, a time when the hierarchy dissolved and the group simply existed together. Bruce Boudreau, a close friend and former coach, has written about Bailey in his book, "Gabby: Confessions of a Hockey Lifer." Boudreau tried to convince Bailey to fly back with him the day before the tragedy. But the cost of changing the ticket was too high, and Bailey chose to stay on United 175. Boudreau flew a day earlier, a decision that saved his life but left him with a profound sense of loss.

Bavis's Promising Start

Mark Bavis was at the beginning of his journey. A native of Massachusetts, he grew up in a household where hockey was the language of daily life. He played college hockey at Boston University, his skills sharp and his mind quick. After graduating, he moved into coaching at the NCAA level, learning the intricacies of the game from the ground up. At thirty-one, he was young by the standards of the NHL front office, but his potential was clear. He had just entered his second season with the Kings when the world changed. He was a promising young mind, a scout with the ability to see what others missed. His presence on the flight was a testament to his rising status in the organization.

The loss of Bavis was a cut that never fully healed. Greg Dreschel, who was present when Bavis transitioned into scouting, loved working with him. Bavis was eager, intelligent, and driven. He represented the next generation of hockey executives, the ones who would carry the torch into the future. That future never came. Instead, his name remains on an award that celebrates the best newcomer, a living tribute to a career that was cut short in its prime. The Kings have ensured that his memory is not just a footnote, but a cornerstone of their identity. As Yahoo Sports notes, the organization continues to honor the legacies left behind by these two men, ensuring that their contributions to the sport are never forgotten. The skates on the floor remain, a silent witness to a story that continues to resonate.