When I was informed that I had been elected to the Hockey Hall of Fame in 2013, it was hard for me to believe. Not because I was too humble to realize what I had accomplished in the game of hockey, but because I couldn’t believe I’d had a chance to play in the first place.
In my mind, I had no business making the National Hockey League, let alone the Hall of Fame.
At 17, Larry Robinson, Denis Potvin, and Raymond Bourque were planning to go to the NHL. At 17, I was planning to go to the beach. Playing in the NHL wasn’t in my game plan. I played hockey because I enjoyed the sport, not because I was trying to become an NHL player. People who lived in San Diego didn’t dream about playing in the NHL.
Most of my surfing buddies thought I was a bit odd because I enjoyed playing late-night hockey in the adult beer-and-pizza leagues at the San Diego House of Ice.
I never thought about my future when I was a teenager. It’s a Greek thing. You live today and enjoy it, and you worry about tomorrow when tomorrow comes.
When Bobby Parker gave me the telephone number of the coach in Moose Jaw, I didn’t rush home to call him. I stuck the number in the glove compartment of Russell Lowell’s car and didn’t think about it for a couple of days.
Today’s hockey players are committing to colleges when they are freshmen in high school. Some players have agents when they are 15. By 16, kids are identified as potential first-round draft picks.
But it never crossed my mind that I would have a career in hockey. No one in the NHL knew that I was alive until I landed in Moose Jaw.
Ultimately, I know that it was my hard work that landed me in the Hall of Fame. But that doesn’t mean I can’t marvel at the unlikelihood of the journey that took me from teenage beach bum delinquent to Hockey Hall of Famer. If I hadn’t met Bobby Parker, or if I hadn’t called Larry Billows, or if he hadn’t liked me, I never would have gotten off that beach.
When the call came from the Hall of Fame, I just shook my head, because I knew I had been both lucky and good to be awarded such an honor.
The next thing I did was start thinking about the party I was going to throw in Toronto on my induction weekend.
About 100 close friends accepted my invitation. Four former teammates from my youth teams in Chicago even showed up.
Wayne Gretzky called and offered to host the party at his restaurant the night before the induction. Two days earlier, I had scheduled another party at former Montreal teammate Shayne Corson’s Tappo Wine Bar and Restaurant.
I remember sitting back and seeing Kid Rock up front singing, and NBA star Michael Jordan, model Cindy Crawford, and Brett Hull sitting at tables having a great time. I remember thinking I’m never going to have a better party than this one.
Honestly, it surprised me that Jordan came. MJ has a hectic schedule, to say the least. But when I called and invited him, he immediately said he was coming. “We’ve been through a lot together,” he said. “I’ll be there.”
Gretzky kept telling me that he couldn’t make the induction because of his schedule. He and I have been friends for a long time. He kept apologizing for not being able to make it. He said he felt terrible about it but hoped I had a good time at his restaurant.
Then I looked up and he and his wife, Janet, and other members of their family were walking in the door. Gretzky was laughing his ass off and was overjoyed that he’d pulled one over on me. He joked to the press later that during my induction speech he was going to count all of the times I whacked him with my stick.
Tennis legend John McEnroe, as well as actors Cuba Gooding Jr., Tony Danza, John McGinley, Jeremy Piven, D.B. Sweeney, and John Cusack were all in Toronto for my induction. Those are some of the people that Danza and I have dubbed the Malibu Mob. We usually spend a lot of time together in the summer. Taverna Tony, a Greek restaurant in Malibu, is one of our hangouts.
I joined that circle of friends after buying a home in Malibu, California, 22 years ago. I chose to live out there because it gave me a couple of months every year where my family would be my priority.
Malibu is a small community, and it wasn’t long before we started meeting all of the famous people who lived there. McEnroe bought the late Johnny Carson’s house and has been living there for many years. Actress Shirley MacLaine also lives in my neighborhood. (I don’t know if she lived in Malibu in her previous lives.) Surfer Laird Hamilton also lives nearby.
Eight years ago, my original realtor called to say that he remembered I had originally wanted to live in the Malibu community of Paradise Cove, and that he knew of a house for sale that had not even been officially listed.
Immediately, I drove over to the real estate office. When I was told about the property and where it was, I said I would take it at the asking price. Knowing the home values in the area, I quickly surmised that it was bargain.
The home owner’s realtor balked at presenting the offer before the listing went up, saying she had two other people wanting to look at the property.
My realtor immediately got into her face and said she had an ethical obligation to present my offer to the seller, regardless of other people wanting to see the house. An offer is an offer, particularly when it is for the seller’s asking price.
Clearly, his realtor wanted to encourage a bidding war. Obviously, I was opposed to that happening.
We could hear her talking to her seller, and explaining who the other potential buyers were.
“The man with the offer is a hockey player from Michigan,” she said.
He must have asked my name, because the realtor said, “Chris Chelios.”
Shortly thereafter, she said simply that the seller had accepted my offer.
As it turned out, the seller was someone I had met at a party with Kid Rock. He had made millions in the software industry and was a hockey fan. On the night we met, he had been partying too hard and was riding me mercilessly. He even picked on me for having a big nose.
But he made up for that by selling me his home, which came with a beach house. It has since tripled in value. (Sadly, I never got a chance to thank him, because six months after the sale he died of a heart attack. He was only 46.)
When I told Tracee about the new house, her first response was that we couldn’t afford it. But I convinced her we would be fine because our existing house would sell quickly.
We ended up selling it to Jeremy Piven, who still lives there today.
It seems as if most everyone in Malibu has been to my home at one time or another, either for my Stanley Cup parties or other events.
My home is on a public beach, so my Stanley Cup parties have ended up with 400 guests at them because people just show up.
At the 2008 Stanley Cup party, we launched the day by taking the Stanley Cup to Coogie’s Beach Café for breakfast. Director and actor Rob Reiner was there, and he came over and had his picture taken with the Cup. That was just the start of the celebrity fest.
Once we got to the beach, the Malibu Mob was there, along with Gretzky, Igor Larionov, Kid Rock, tennis player Jennifer Capriati, actor David Spade, plus my Red Wings teammates Darren McCarty, Jiri Hudler, and Dan Cleary. It was quite a day. Kid Rock performed. Everyone who showed up that day came away knowing they had been at a real party.
One rule I have at my Malibu home is that no one is allowed to discuss religion or politics. As I’ve written, I have no patience for either, and in my house, you play by my rules.
That rule sometimes comes in handy, because I have close friends who are quite conservative and others who are quite liberal. For example, my buddies Kid Rock and Pearl Jam’s Eddie Vedder are on opposite ends of the political spectrum.
Vedder and I had a strange first meeting. In the early 1990s when I was hanging out with Chicago Bulls star Dennis Rodman, I was at a party and saw this guy staring at me like he was trying to size me up.
It bugged me to the point that I asked a cop who the guy was. He said it was Vedder, which surprised me. He looked bigger and different on stage.
I went up and introduced myself, and he said he was sure he knew me from somewhere but couldn’t figure out where.
“I’m a hockey player,” I said.
“Nope, that’s not it,” he said. “I’ve never seen a hockey game.”
We talked for a while and quickly realized that both of us had started out in Chicago and ended up living in San Diego at the same time. Vedder was also a surfer, and we were riding the waves in the same areas. We figure we crossed paths on the beach somewhere, although we can’t be sure we ever actually met. We have been close friends since that party.
Regardless of their political views, my celebrity friends have always gotten along, except for the time Kid Rock started talking politics with the liberal John Cusack.
They went at it like they were on a cable news show. They argued until they both ran out of steam. It was comical.
“I don’t know how you can be friends with that guy,” Cusack told me.
The truth is I’m friends with Kid Rock because he’s a great guy, and I’m friends with Cusack because he’s a great guy. I don’t much care about their politics.
That’s when I instituted the rule of no political or religious debate in my house. No exceptions. Since then, Cusack has looked beyond Kid Rock’s political agenda and sees him as a fascinating person. They get along famously.
If you meet Kid Rock in person, it’s hard for you to believe he’s the same guy you see on stage. Just like some athletes are different people on the field, Kid Rock is a different man on stage. He has a stage presence that is impossible to describe. I’ve seen him perform live about 30 times. He’s not one of those artists who has to be alone with his thoughts before he performs.
One night he invited all of the Red Wings to sit in the front row of his concert at Detroit’s Cobo Hall. He had a case of beer placed in front of every seat, and he invited us all backstage to talk to him a few minutes before the concert began.
One guy who is exactly the same as his public image is McEnroe. Tracee and I have been friends with John and his wife, Patty, for 20 years. Our kids have grown up together, attending the same sports camps during the summer.
I can testify that McEnroe still has the burning passion that made him a champion on the court. I love it when he gets fired up, which can happen often. He strives to be the best no matter what he does. He can’t turn it off.
Once, he asked me to officiate at an exhibition match. When he didn’t like some of my calls, he said, “If you are going to do it, do it right!”
I walked off the court but we remain good friends. That’s just who John is.
At my induction, Cuba Gooding Jr. told the media that he first met me when I elbowed him in the corner during a celebrity hockey game. Though I don’t remember it, that’s probably true.
The only person I wished had been at my induction who wasn’t was my ex-Blackhawks teammate Gary Suter. It was perfect that we were able to go into the U.S. Hockey Hall of Fame together. The induction ceremony was in Chicago that year, making it even better. Given Suter’s quiet nature, I was predicting disaster when he got up to make his speech at that event. I told him his speech was going to be the worst in the history of the Hall of Fame. But Suter hit it out of the park, saying the right words and thanking the right people.
Two years later, when I was elected to the Hockey Hall of Fame, I invited Suter to be there with me as my favorite teammate.
“Sorry, I won’t go to Canada,” Suter said. “Not going back there.”
He was still worried about what Canadians might do to him because he hurt Gretzky at the Canada Cup, even though that happened almost 30 years ago. I couldn’t be too upset by his decision; that was the nervous Suter that we all knew and loved.
Everything I have today, I owe to hockey. I have tried not to forget those who have helped me along the way.
My friendship with Russell Lowell has endured through the years. He has carved out his own niche as a prominent chef. At one point, he was cooking for Microsoft kingpin Bill Gates.
Now my Malibu crew knows Russell as well. And as he likes to say, whenever we get together trouble usually follows, even today.
Russell is also in the process of writing a book that will include a story about how he cooked up a mule deer that had been struck by a car near the entrance to Pepperdine University.The story starts with the sad passing of our San Diego friend James O’Connell. Although Russell rearranged his schedule to attend the funeral, he told me that he didn’t have time for a lengthy visit. He had to get back to his home in the state of Washington for a cooking engagement.
The funeral was a sad affair, and it wasn’t the kind of send-off we would have liked to see for our friend. I asked Russell to stay an extra day so we could remember the good times with O’Connell.
Given Russell’s expertise in food, I picked the trendy Nobu restaurant. We sat at a table with actors Jeremy Piven, Dustin Hoffman, Mark Wahlberg, and a couple of stunt women.
The women mentioned a party afterward, but it was a celebrity fest and the paparazzi were everywhere. I had no desire to see my photo ending up in the National Enquirer. We decided to head for my house.
As we neared Pepperdine, Russell spotted the 180-pound mule deer stumbling around just after it had been struck by a car.
“We need to stop,” Russell said.
“There is nothing we can do,” I said.
“Yes, there is,” he said.
Knowing it wasn’t possible to transport the deer home in my car, we eventually went to my house to get my truck. It was after 2:00 am and I woke up my son Dean and asked him to help us. He said we were crazy and went back to bed. That’s when I decided to call Cusack, who just happened to be driving home from a party. Cusack also has Chicago roots, and started following my career when I was with the Blackhawks. In 2009, when I was playing my last NHL season, Cusack was quoted in Sports Illustrated as saying that I “was the oldest man in the world. He’s actually 792 years old.” We’ve had good times together.
Cusack met us at the accident site. We loaded the now-dead deer in the truck and took it back to my garage, where Russell butchered it with the skill of a surgeon. He turned the deer into steaks. He noted during the process that none of the meat had been bruised by the accident.
The only problem was that we made a mess. Blood was splattered all over the garage and kitchen. My Malibu home looked like a crime scene.
When Tracee woke up around 6:00 am she was not pleased with what had transpired.
“Don’t even look in the refrigerator,” Russell told Tracee. “We will get it cleaned up.”
When the butchering was complete, we still had the deer head and other remains and no idea how to dispose of them. We decided the best plan was to bury them at sea. We dragged the carcass and head to the beach and let the tide carry them out. I figured some fish would dine well that day.
The next morning one of my Malibu neighbors, billionaire Don Wildman, saw me outside and waved me over to excitedly tell me an incredible tale about how he found a deer’s head on his beach.
Other neighbors had gathered as he theorized that the deer had walked into the surf and a shark had come into the shallow water and attacked it. I listened to him tell the story for a while, and then I told him what really happened.
Later that day, Russell grilled up the venison medallions, and none of our guests had any idea they were eating road kill.
You know you have a friend for life when you butcher a deer with them.
To be honest, the entire induction weekend was overwhelming. It was a blur of people and conversations. You hope you remember to thank everyone. You hope you say the appropriate words. You hope people understand how much you have appreciated their friendship and their help during your career.
You are told to limit your speech to about 20 minutes, meaning it’s impossible to thank everyone meaningful in your life.
The only regret I had about my speech was not taking the time to point out that Gretzky was the greatest ambassador the NHL has ever had or will have. He was a great player and is a wonderful man. He has been the perfect face of our sport.
I hope what people took from my speech is that I felt fortunate to have played hockey as long as I did. The path I took to the NHL may have been comical, but I was very serious about being a top player.
When I look back at my playing days, what I’m most proud of is the fact that most of my teammates would say I was a good team guy. What I liked best about playing hockey were the guys. I loved the feeling I got when everyone worked together to achieve a common objective. The best teams are those where the players play for each other, not for themselves.
I also want to be remembered as a player who just liked to play hockey. I didn’t go to Moose Jaw to attract the notice of the NHL. I went to Moose Jaw to keep playing a sport I loved to play.
After my final NHL game for the Atlanta Thrashers in 2010, I reported back to the Chicago Wolves to play in the AHL playoffs. I joked that I was going out on the bottom, not the top. But maybe it was appropriate that I ended my career in the AHL, because it was a reminder that I played all of those years not because I loved the glory but because I loved playing.
Cusack attended one of my final games with the Wolves, and I ended up getting two teeth chipped while he was watching. He was surprised that I was still willing to go out after the game. To me, dental issues were hardly a cause for great concern. You see the dentist and you fix the problem.
In an interview with Yahoo.com at my induction, Cusack seemed bemused by how enthused I was to be playing in the minor leagues.
“He was with all these minor leaguers,” Cusack said. “It could have been a sad story, but it wasn’t, because he took his show there. ‘This is what I do.’ It was sort of amazing. He was this Hall of Famer, clearly, amongst these kids, and they were running him and doing all these things, and he’s like, ‘I play hockey.’”
That is what I want people to remember about me.
The most important person at my induction was probably Parker, who had recommended me to Coach Billows in the first place.
Without Parker giving me the coach’s number, I may never have gotten beyond rec-league hockey.
Through the years, we have kept in touch. I have always felt as if I owed him thanks for that telephone number and for having my back in my two seasons in Moose Jaw. Hockey in that era was wild and brawl-filled, and you couldn’t survive unless your teammates had your back.
And yes, I remembered what Parker had said to me in our last playoff game together. I didn’t understand his meaning until he told me he was losing his eyesight.
At the end of the induction weekend, when I was saying good-bye to Parker, I thanked him for what he did for my career.
“You said that I had to play for both of us,” I reminded him. “And I got us both all the way to the Hall of Fame.”
As it turned out, my game plan in hockey was the same one we had surfing 30 years in San Diego. I caught a big wave and rode it as hard as I could for as long as I could.