Issue 70 - Godspeed Probie

BOB PROBERT WAS MANY THINGS TO MANY PEOPLE. BUT ABOVE ALL HE WAS A GREAT TEAMMATE TO FAMILY AND FRIENDS ALIKE.

When two of my hockey-playing sons were younger, they participated in a fundraising skate at South Windsor Arena for the Make-A-Wish Foundation and the Windsor Minor Hocke Association. Then, as now, the lads didnt need much coaxing to hit the ice; but their excitement this particular day in the spring of 2006 was tweaked even more so. Thats because a former NHL player would be among those taking to the ice, but not just any NHLer. As part of that vast segment of the younger Canadian hockey population that had Don Cherrys Rock-Em, Sock-Em video series to thank for their growing knowledge of the pro game, the boys knew one of the long-time stars of Grape's annual salute to the NHL was lacing them up.

Yep, Bob Probert was going to be in the house.

Four years removed from his 2002 retirement, Probert was just starting to re-establish himself in the public eye in a positive light. He had started to take a more active role with the NHL Players Associations alumni, and would soon see the beginning of bridges mended with his beloved Detroit Red Wings, the club where things had all began for arguably the top enforcer and tough guy in the history of the NHL. The off-ice issues and legal problems that had been part of Probert's career seemed behind him. Clean and sober for a year, Bob thrilled the pack of young kids that assembled at South Windsor Arena that afternoon; including my own, who got to stick around with Big Number 24 long after most had left the ice. Probert took time to skate extra laps with them, encouraging and offering advice while doing so. To any observer, he looked absolutely in his element. Even with two young kids hed just met for the first time, Bob Probert made like he'd been a teammate for life. But then, that was always the way with "Probie" wasn't it? Bob Probert, the ultimate teammate.

In the days that followed Bob's tragic passing on July 5, 2010 at the age of 45, those kinds of attributes were heralded by family, friends and former teammates. For all his past personal discrepancies - perhaps unfairly played out in the media as they so often were over the past twentyfive years - Bob Probert was, to his very soul, simply a "good guy." For all who knew him, Probie was the kind of person who would give you the shirt off his back and never ask for anything in return. He was the kind of guy who understood what it meant to have your teammate's back. Indeed, Probie lived that mantra. All the time.

With Probie, honour and loyalty were badges never to be discarded. It's what made him tick. It's what made him the kind of player, teammate and friend he was; sometimes to his detriment, but almost always fo the good. After 16 largely tumultuous seasons - nine with Detroit and seven with Chicago - and 3,300 career penalty minutes, Prober capped his career safely knowing his hockey skills were respected among his peers. And why not: along the way, he netted 163 regular-season goals and assisted on another 221. That production was something Probie was always proud of - the fact that he could also play the game.

Probie saw it as his job to protect his teammates, whether it was sucker-punching fellow enforcer Kevin Maguire after the then-Buffalo Sabre had attacked Red Wing captain Steve Yzerman, taking the "crown" back from Tie Domi, or going toe-to-toe with Marty McSorley, Probie rarely disappointed on the ice. For the guys in that role, there was always a certain type of respect for one another, and no one understood that more than Bob Probert.

True to his nature though, Probie didnt like discussing his on-ice battles, or the guys he fought. He respected the guys who did what he did, so there rarely was any trash talking out of his mouth. Fighting was part of his job and he did it well so what was there to talk about? It's one of the reasons Probert hated preseason games, which invariably would bring out those young up-and-coming fighters; the ones always wanting to test themselves against the best. Of course, Probie would always oblige them by dropping the gloves and giving them a go; not to mention a story to one day tell their kids. With Probie though, it was never about ego. Yes, he fought players as often as anyone in the history of the game. But he also treated them with respect and never bragged about it afterwards. Indeed the Sean Averys and Dan Carcillos of the current hockey world could take a thing or two from Probie's book.

There is a reason you still see people wearing his jersey at Joe Louis Arena, more than 15 years since he last played for Detroit. Probie embodied what so many people see in a hockey player, an athlete, a soldier, a teammate: Relentlessness. No fear.

Commitment. Loyalty. Probie was an enforcer, but not a goon. A protector of more hi-profiled players like Yzerman, but also someone who could put the puck in the net and set others up. As Red Wing, Probert was a cult figure for a franchise just beginning to find its way in the mid 1980s. Fans nicknamed Probert and Joey Kocur "The Bruise Brothers" and wore tshirts depicting a red cross symbol and the words: "Give Blood, Fight Probie." And during the American national anthem, it was routine to hear wide sections of the Joe Louis Arena crowd shouting "PROBIE" in anticipation of what was to come.

Perhaps no fight better sums up Bob Probert's best attributes of respect, honour and loyalty than his legendary tussle with Marty McSorley in 1994.

Probert, still in his prime but in his last few months with the Wings, and McSorley, by that time with Pittsburgh, squared off and went at it in a fight that lasted nearly two minutes. When it was finally over, the two half-undressed combatants - both gasping for air and barely able to lift their arms - leaned toward each other, with McSorley gaving Probert a gentle headbutt, his way of congratulating Probie for surviving a remarkable battle. When the linesman released him, Probert put his right hand on McSorleys head and rubbed his hair like he would a little brother, as if to say "nice job, good go."

It has been fitting, and comforting for his family for sure, that Probie has been widely recognized for the impact he had on hockey and his community. Probie did a lot of things that went unnoticed in the Windsor, Essex County and Detroit areas. He actively supported young hockey players in the community, and often bought tickets for kids who couldnt afford to go to games. He regularly appeared in charity games, spoke at conventions, conducted youth clinics, and rarely said no to any charitable organization that came a calling.

In recent years, he had travelled to Afghanistan where he visited with Canadian forces fighting the War on Terror. It was that kind of unselfishness that always shone through with Bob Probert. Whether it was a young hockey fan, a sick child, a solider or practically anyone he bumped into, Probie took the time to say hello and chat. Little wonder those who met him for the first time, and who probably had preconceived notions about this tough guy they seen pummel opponents on the ice, were always left to say: "Wow, what a great guy." Reporters would often be surprised and enlightened when they first met Bob Probert, expecting to encounter this mea and gruff guy but realizing just the opposite. Probie was friendly, humble, funny and rarely said no to an interview request.

Above all, Bob loved his family; his wife Dani and four children. He absolutely loved them. And in many ways, they saved him. They made him see the responsibility that comes with having a family and four young kids; even if it took him a little longer to realize that. In recent years he would often say when interviewed that his children were smart and they were busy, and that he had to be likewise for them. He also called them the best present he ever got. He never hid his past from his kids: he and wife Dani were totally honest and open with them and explained all the situations that had previously happened with Dad. "You cant really get around it," he once said in an interview. "So you might as well be as honest and open as you can. Theyve been pretty good about it."

Probie was the guy who had a joke every day. The kind of player other players loved having as a teammate. Just as he was the kind of friend friends loved having as a friend. Despite his flaws, he was a character guy, a quality guy, and always a ton of fun to be around. In many ways, Probie was that kind of larger-than-life character; one of those free spirits who rose up with incredible forces inside him, all grasping for control. He was very much like the grand stallion: one moment standing there still, radiating grace and power, the next minute leaping over fences, dashing across fields, defying anything in his way. He was a bruise brother who fought always with honor. There was not a trace of sneer o disdain in his heart. Ask those Canadian soldiers in Afghanistan, who cheered him every time he made the trip to that war-torn land. They weren't cheering because of Probie's celebrity though, but more so because they knew him to be one of them; a brother who understood and appreciated the sacrifices they were making. He inspired them because they inspired him. Just like good teammates always do.

In the evening hours of the day he passed away, my two boys and I reflected on that day four years ago at South Windsor Arena. The younger of the two remembered skating hard laps with Probie and how he made a game out of simply skating in circles. As he sat there, quietly remembering that afternoon, I could see in his eyes the good memory that brief time on the ice with Bob Probert still called to mind. "He was a nice man," he said finally. "That was really cool what he did with us that day."

Nice and cool for sure. Like the best of teammates always are. Like Bob Probert always was.

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