What a sad day for me. A man who I looked up to as an athlete tragically left us at the young age of 45.
I wasn’t much of a hockey fan until I saw Bob Probert play for the Chicago Blackhawks. Probert wasn’t a flashy guy. He didn’t score a lot. In fact, many of you probably have no idea who he was. But one thing that Probert did do was fight. In fact, Probert finished with the fourth-most penalty minutes in NHL history.
The reason I gravitated towards Probert wasn’t because I condoned violence but because as a young kid I was bullied. I was overweight and that’s the Mark of Cain amongst adolescents. And Probert was a guy who didn’t take crap from anybody. If one of his players got checked or attacked he was the first guy to defend them. He was like one of the Hansen Brothers from the movie “Slap Shot” in real life.
I was such a fan of Probert’s I was able to track down his autograph on a hockey puck. Up until a month ago it was one of three coveted signatures I grabbed. His signed puck sits on my shelf along with a signed ball by Michael Jordan and a signed bat from Carlton Fisk. How’s that for a pantheon? Jordan, Fisk, and Probert. But that’s how much I loved watching the guy.
Bob also battled drugs and alcohol addiction for many years and had several run-ins with the law so I don’t want to canonize him as some saint. But by all accounts he was clean and sober and had turned his life around. That’s why news of his death is even more tragic.
As of now, reports are he complained of chest pains while boating with his family before dying in front of his wife and four children. The cause of death, as of now, has not been determined but it was far too young for him to go. No funeral arrangements have been made as I’m sure they are in shock over his death.
As am I.