Acknowledgments

Occasionally you hear it said that an athlete came out of nowhere to become a star player.

But a guy from nowhere probably had more visibility than I had playing beer league hockey in San Diego, California. My climb from beach bum to Hall of Fame hockey player has to be one of the more unlikely journeys in sports history.

I would like to acknowledge the late Jim Perner and his family for the effort they made to get me ice time in Chicago when I was a young player. Jim bought used taxis, pulled off the decals, and used those vehicles to drive us wherever we needed to go to find a rink. Sometimes it was after midnight. Once, a fellow put a rink in a barn and we skated there for three hours.

With my dad working all of the time at his restaurant, I don’t know whether I would have developed as a hockey player without the help of the Perner family.

Likewise, I owe a huge thanks to Pat Doyle for paying my way to Mount Carmel High School in Chicago. At that point in my life, I needed that level of education and hockey competition.

I probably owe my entire NHL career to former Moose Jaw Canucks coach Larry Billows. If he hadn’t taken a chance on me, I probably never would have advanced beyond the San Diego beer leagues.

I also owe major thanks to my Moose Jaw defensive partner Bobby Parker, the guy who gave me Billows’ phone number on a San Diego beach. Parker had my back while I was learning how to be a defenseman. He also provided several of the Moose Jaw stories that were included in this book.

Thanks also to my San Diego buddy Russell Lowell and my Moose Jaw teammate Wendal Jellison for contributing tales from long ago.

While I’m passing out thanks, I want to express my gratitude to former Wisconsin assistant coach Grant Standbrook for transforming me into a defenseman. The always-serious Standbrook taught me more about playing defense than anyone in my career.

The late Wisconsin coach Bob Johnson was also important to my success. I already had passion, but he was a positive influence at a time when I needed one. His replacement, Jeff Sauer, also provided positive reinforcement.

I also want to thank the late Herb Brooks and the members of the 1980 U.S. Olympic team for helping pave the way for me to play in the NHL. What they did for American hockey cannot be underestimated.

Thanks also to Bob Gainey and Larry Robinson for showing me how to be a professional player in Montreal. Larry was always there for me, no matter how things were going for me. Robinson made me feel comfortable in a foreign city. The same was true about Craig Ludwig. He was a laid-back player who cared far more than he ever showed. Ludwig loved playing the game but always acted like he didn’t.

Former Montreal coach Jacques Lemaire also taught me much about the game, but truth be told he scared the hell out of me. He intimidated me. He was very stern. His eyes would look right through me.

As much as I appreciated the learning experiences I had with other coaches, I probably thrived most under the tougher coaching style of Mike Keenan. On the ice, he pushed me to be a stronger, tougher, grittier player. He helped me take my game to another level.

Keenan also provided information and stories for this book, as did my former Chicago Blackhawks teammate Jeremy Roenick. Their contributions are appreciated.

I also want to thank the Ilitch family, general manager Ken Holland, and the Red Wings organization for the treatment I’ve received in Detroit. I’ve now been with this team a long time, and I have always been treated well.

I love how the Ilitch family stands up for the city of Detroit and its teams. Mike and Marian Ilitch are a shining example of living the American dream. They started with one pizza stand, and look where they are today. What I like most about them is that they climbed to the top with class and dignity, their morals and ethics intact.

Thanks to Mitch Rogatz and Triumph Books for giving me the opportunity to tell my story. Thanks also to Adam Motin for his editorial expertise.

Away from the ice, I need to thank Chicago native John-Andrew Kambanis, who was a member of the 1998 and 2002 Greek bobsled team. He gave me the opportunity to dabble in bobsledding during the 2004–05 NHL lockout. Accomplished surfer Laird Hamilton and I both traveled to Lake Placid, New York, with the idea that we might be able to add a second sport to our résumés.

I had no illusions about being a bobsled driver. That requires far more experience and training than we could acquire in the time we had. But members of the four-man bobsled who do the pushing at the start usually have a track background. I had always been fast and had strength in my legs. I had the requisite agility. I thought if I worked at it, I could become a quality bobsledder.

Hamilton hurt his shoulder in our training session, and that was it for him. But I competed with the Greek team at the America’s Cup that year in Calgary, Alberta. It was an Olympic qualifying event for lower-rung competitors such as Greece, Jamaica, and Mexico.

I have never laughed as hard as I did when I saw the Mexican team drive up with its sled in the bed of an El Camino. They had made the trip all the way up from Mexico.

Because of the movie Cool Runnings, people think of the Jamaican team as being kind of a joke. But they seemed well trained, and the Jamaicans were among the top competitors in this competition.

The Greek sled made three runs and we flipped over twice. Of course, the only photo of the event published in the Calgary newspaper was our sled sliding down the course on its side.

When you crash, the objective is to keep your head off the track, presumably to prevent a serious head injury. But we spilled early, and I was flying down the ice on my shoulder. It was burning from the friction. At one point, I had to place my helmet on the ice just to provide some relief. When I was at the bottom of the run, I saw that the friction had burned a hole in my helmet.

For some reason, Canadian Olympic gold medal bobsledder Pierre Lueders decided to rip me for my decision to compete in his sport. He said my efforts were “ridiculous” and “utter nonsense.”

I got the last laugh. I told the media that I didn’t understand why Lueders was upset considering that he had loaned me his equipment to compete. The truth was that I had simply pulled gear out of his locker in Calgary.

We had no success in Calgary, finishing last out of nine teams. I came away from my bobsledding experience impressed with the athletes who compete in that sport. I have said that making a bobsled run is like compressing all of the intensity and physicality of a hockey game into a one-minute span. You get banged around quite a bit during a run.

Despite what Lueders said, I believe I could have been a quality bobsledder, given the proper training.

I hope this book makes it clear that I value my family greatly and that I appreciate the contributions and sacrifices they have made for my career.

The reason I dedicated the book to my late sister Gigi is that she enjoyed my career more than anybody. She enjoyed being my sister and working at Cheli’s Chili Bar in Chicago. When she was coping with cancer, that job kept her going. If you ask anyone who went in there, they will remember how much she loved being in the inner circle when I was with the Blackhawks.

My sister Penny also worked there, and many fans have stories about how well Penny treated them when they stopped by the restaurant. A fan once called right after we closed, and Penny waited until the fan arrived and re-opened the place to give her a tour. My sisters were wonderful goodwill ambassadors.

The first time I walked into the Montreal Canadiens dressing room for a Sunday practice and saw that players had brought their kids into the dressing room, I couldn’t wait to have my own kids.

I knew the experience of bringing up children in the hockey family environment would be memorable, but it exceeded all my expectations.

It’s not easy being the son or daughter of a professional athlete, but my children handled it with pride, dignity, and respect. When I played, the best compliments I ever received were about how well behaved my children were.

It was particularly challenging for my sons, Dean and Jake, when they played youth hockey. They heard trash talking on the ice and from the stands that they should not have heard, but they handled it as well as could be expected.

But I take no credit for raising great children. That credit goes to my wife, Tracee. She is an exceptional parent. She has kept the family grounded while I focused on my career. Through several moves and countless upheavals, Tracee has been the key player in our family. I always say my wife is bulletproof. That is a requirement if you are married to me.

Tracee and I have different approaches to life but she always knows when to be sympathetic to my position and when to tell me I’m wrong. I listen to her advice far more than she thinks I do. By admitting that it this book, I have showed her my hand. That is going to cost me.

Few people know that on the day we were married, my parents tried to convince me to call off the wedding. Tracee and my dad didn’t get along, and my parents believed they were trying to protect me.

Tracee and her bridal party hadn’t yet arrived at the church, and I can vividly recall my parents making their case that I should stay single. (We were doing shots at the time, so that should explain everything.)

Tired of their arguments, I asked my father to give me one good reason why I shouldn’t marry Tracee.

“She is too short,” my father said.

“But she is taller than Mom,” I said.

It’s one of the few times I’ve stopped my father right in his tracks. He had nothing to say.

On that day, I made the right decision by marrying Tracee. I’ve made some bad choices during my career, but that was not one of them.

While writing this book I realized that I sometimes sound as I though I hate Canada and the Canadian fans, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Canada is where I got my break, both in junior hockey and in the NHL. The truth is that after all the battles my U.S. teams had against Canada, I simply became frustrated with losing. I’m a sore loser, so I did what came naturally to me—I argued and fought and acted out toward Canadians. Let me be clear: if it wasn’t for hockey I wouldn’t have a bad word to say about Canada. In my eyes, Canadians take the game a little too seriously. But if it wasn’t for the pride they took in hockey, I would have never turned out the way I did. So, thanks, Canada, for the attitude. And go USA!

Finally, thank you to everyone who played a role in my career. There are tons of people I would like to thank if I had the space here. Rest assured that not a day goes by where I don’t think back on how lucky I was to have the support of my friends and family. From the frozen park in Evergreen Park where it all started to where I am now, it’s been one wild ride.

Mom, Dad, thank you and I love you for all you’ve done for me.

Gigi, Penny, Eleni, and Steve, I hope I made you guys proud of your brother.

Tracee, Dean, Jake, Caley, and Tara, you guys are the only thing I love more than hockey. I am so proud of all of you!

I still say hockey is the greatest sport in the world, not just because the game itself is great but because of the quality of character of the people involved.

Thank you, everyone!