Woody's career in professional hockey—first as a player and then as a medical trainer with the San Jose Sharks—spans nearly 40 years. Throughout those decades his dedication has earned him the admiration of players, fellow trainers and members of hockey associations. And some of that history is commemorated in a collection of trophies, championship rings, commemorative pins and service awards.

He was most recently recognized by being inducted into the Professional Hockey Athletic Trainers Society Hall of Fame.

"I could have thought of the award as just another accomplishment," he says, until honorees in different hockey training associations told him they'd rather trade their honors for his. "That's when I began to feel just how important this is."

The society's been around since 1969 but created its hall of fame to honor its members in 1995. Athletic trainers and equipment managers are inducted in alternating years.

Woody, the sixth trainer to be inducted, has the longest span of service in the league: 37 years. His career as a medical trainer spans three professional hockey teams, 2,770 regular games and 211 playoff games.

And the native of Providence, R.I. shows no sign of tiring of either the game or the job.

"He has that 'old school' mentality," says Kelly Woodcock, Woody's 25-year-old stepdaughter. "That's what makes him so endearing. He works hard and is dedicated to his job. He's in the locker room every day, even on Christmas."

For as long as he can remember, Woody always wanted to be involved with professional hockey.

He was so committed to the sport that in high school when coaches asked him to play football he declined to avoid being injured before hockey season. After graduating in 1953 from high school he enrolled in Brown University, only to be drafted into the Army soon after. He was stationed in Germany, where he played on the base's hockey team. But he was only in for a few months—the Army discharged him after he broke his arm.

"It was the luckiest break I ever got," he says.

He returned to the States but never completed his college education. Instead he played professionally with the Providence Reds of Rhode Island for five years, then accepted a job as a hockey trainer with Brown University.

Photograph courtesy of the Woodcock family Old-Timer: Tommy 'Woody' Woodcock was a player for the Providence Reds in the late 1950s.

As a medical trainer who was constantly working with athletes' sore muscles, Woody had trouble finding a liniment that could withstand sweat and stay on the skin.

"So I figured I better make my own," he says.

He discovered the secret to a liniment's staying power when he and some buddies played golf one day with the president of Revlon.

"He told me to put in the same stuff that his company used in lipstick," Woody says, and today his bright orange Rub Dub is a common sight in training rooms throughout the National Hockey League.

He keeps the ingredients and the formula a secret but swears by its healing effects—as do hockey players.

"Whenever we get hurt, he slathers that stuff on us and says, 'Just plug your nose and don't complain about the burn,' " says Mike Ricci, who plays center for the Sharks.

Woody says he's always getting orders from former players or players who've been traded.

"One guy, I'm sure, takes a bath in the stuff," he says.

He even admits that one time he and a colleague gave some to a horse trainer, who smeared some Rub Dub on a racehorse.

"We bet on him just for fun and ended up winning about 800 bucks each that day," Woody says.

There might even be a broader market for Woody's Rub Dub, but he's declined requests to build the business.

"It's already pretty hard to make," he says. "I have to stir the ingredients by hand; I've broken other mixers trying to make it. And besides, for all the money I'd put into making it, one lawsuit from somebody misusing it would wipe me out."

There've been many times the game itself could have wiped Woody out. He claims, with some pride, that he's had up to 685 stitches, 85 of which were to sew up his cheek when another player's skate lacerated it.

But you'd have to look closely to find the scars.

"I can't remember where they are exactly; I'd have to get to a mirror and see," he says.

Injuries are typical for sports, especially in hockey, Woody says.

"With this sport, lacerations are just part of the game," he says matter of factly. "To us, they're nothing and we expect them."

Injuries may be a constant with the sport, but some federal laws regulating treating on-rink injuries, he feels, have been a constant nuisance.

"Before, when a guy took a puck to the head, we'd take him off the rink and stitch him up," Woody says. "Now, you have to get a medical doctor out there who'll take over and use anaesthetic."

Woody believes that sometimes anaesthetic shouldn't be used for injuries needing stitches because the numbing of the pain comes from killing nerve endings, which could leave more severe scarring.

"Normally, when you've been hit, you're numb anyway so you don't really feel the needle," he says.

Another constant of the game is change. He bemoans the fact that hockey has evolved from a game to a sport to a business.

"The game has changed so much, and so have the players," he says wistfully.

"First of all, there's more games both on- and off-season than there used to be," he says, "because the more games played, the more money to be made."

He also recalls when training camp was just that: for training.

"Before, that was when players came back from the off-season to get back into shape," he says, "but now they need to always be in shape so they can play in exhibition games."

He also remembers when the equipment wasn't so high tech.

"They keep making things lighter, and that makes for a lot of problems," he says. For example, he preferred the days when gloves were padded and reached the elbow.

"Now they have players wear these lightweight gloves that only go past the wrist, and they have no support, so we have so many hand injuries nowadays you wouldn't believe it."

The free-agent market has also sullied the sport, he adds.

"Guys like me, when we played for a team we were proud to play for that team, and we treated our jerseys like they were flags. We didn't just take 'em off and throw 'em on the floor or hang them carelessly. Guys today don't seem to have that much respect for their jerseys 'cause they know that at any time they'll be traded. They figure, 'Why get attached?' "

Current Sharks, however, feel a definite loyalty to Woody, with his easygoing demeanor and bedside manner.

Doug Wilson, general manager for the Sharks and a former player and team captain for the Sharks, says he has lost count of the times Woody's treated his injuries. "Stitches, broken bones, you name it," says Wilson, "he put me back together."

Wilson adds, "He's like a father figure to the players and their kids when they bring them to the locker room."

"He's a fun, witty, crazy old bugger, but he's da man!" Ricci says.

Woody's been with the Sharks since the team was formed in 1991, which is also when the team moved into Dry Creek Village in Willow Glen. As far as anyone can remember, he's been in the locker room every morning with bagels and English muffins prepared for the players.

"Being a trainer is not an easy job," says Mac Read, the Sharks' strength and conditioning coordinator. "There's not a lot of people who understand how hard of a job he has."

But enough of his peers apparently do understand—in 1998 the National Athletic Trainers Association presented Woody with the Most Distinguished Athletic Trainer Award. And in 2001, the Officials Association of the National Hockey League recognized him for having worked in more than 2,500 professional hockey games.

But it isn't the accolades that keep him in the game. Woody says he might have made more money in another career, but he believes that the camaraderie in the world of hockey is what has fueled him all along.

"Money's not that important to me anymore," Woody says. "I might have made more doing something else but hockey's in my blood, and there's some great people in this sport."

He believes he may never have accomplished what he has without his friends and colleagues.

"I've learned that the people you meet coming up the ladder are the same ones you meet coming down," Woody says. "They're just wearing different qualities of clothes."

This preference for equality is why he makes the Goosetown Lounge on Lincoln Avenue his watering hole.

Woody and some other Sharks were looking for a place to hang out after practice and got fed up with one eatery near the HP Pavilion, where the team used to practice. So when in 1996 somebody recommended the Goosetown, they dropped in. Woody is now a regular patron,

"You've got a real common denominator at that place," Woody says. "You stop by there and you'll find mechanics hanging out with lawyers."

So much of a regular is he that he became a good friend of the owner, Gary Rovai, who threw Woody a surprise party at the lounge after Woody's recent induction into the Professional Hockey Athletic Trainers Society Hall of Fame.

"Woody's one of the nicest guys I've ever had the pleasure to meet," Rovai says.

For the celebration Rovai filled his lounge with several current and former Sharks, regular patrons, family and friends. He even arranged to get an enlarged black-and-white photo of a young Woody skating in his old Providence Reds jersey.

Woody may be spending even more time at Goosetown in the near future—he thinks this year might be his final season with the Sharks and with hockey in any official capacity.

"My contract is up and I don't get the feeling it's going to be renewed," he says

There are rumors in the National Hockey League that there'll be a lockout in September because of labor disputes between players and team owners who want to place a cap on the players' salaries.

Although he may not find the business of hockey all that appealing, Woody takes solace in knowing it can't touch his love and affinity for the sport. And colleagues and teammates say that their experience with the sport has been enriched for having known him.

"He's a rare breed," Wilson says. "He's a great ambassador for the game and one of the most giving men I've ever met."