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FRASER: MY DEALINGS WITH THEO FLEURY DURING OUR CAREERS

KERRY FRASER, TSN.CA, March 8 2012

"I'm gonna *&%#ing kill you! I don't care who you *&#@-in' think you are. Let's meet outside in the parking lot, you *&%#ing —-bag *#%-hole!" (Fraser) immediately gave me a 10-minute misconduct, throwing me out of the game. It was too much. I took my helmet off and threw it at him.

– Theoren Fleury, from his book 'Playing with Fire'

I felt the anger well up in me as Fleury's helmet landed at my feet. For a fleeting moment, I considered kicking it back at him. But I quickly regained my composure and my professional demeanour and ejected him from the game.

It was April 19, 1996, Game 2 of a first-round series between the Calgary Flames and Chicago Blackhawks. The Hawks had won the first game, 4–1, and now, in the third period, were up 3–0 and were on the power play. In a corner of the rink, I could see Fleury slashing – in retaliation – at the Hawks' Murray Craven. I assessed a penalty, which would again put the Flames two men down – and which triggered Theo's outburst, in which he threatened me with a passion that only men with nothing left to lose can muster.

It has always been my objective, in a game sometimes characterized by force and brutality, to show respect to all who cross my path, both on and off the ice.

I believe that sportsmanship is key and that there is a certain baseline of conduct and comportment that one should never slip below. Unfortunately, there have been a number of times when I, as well as other players, have fallen prey to a crudeness, even a cruelty, that is way out of line.

Theoren Fleury has been on both the giving and receiving side of that equation. He always talked a big game, and wasn't afraid to act on his claims if he thought it could benefit himself or his team. Calgary profited quite a bit from this fiery, controversial character and his great heart, speed and grit, not to mention the goals he scored prolifically. Theo wouldn't learn, however, until four years later, the venomous potency that words can have when aimed low.

On December 20, 2000 at Madison Square Garden, the buzzer had just sounded to end the first period and Fleury rushed up to me with tears in his eyes, a shocking sight in its own right. This player, known for his Mighty Mouse-like tenacity, now stood beaten down, appealing to a person he'd rather never have contact with. "Kerry, he can't talk to me like that!" he shouted. "He can't talk to me like that! I'm really tryin' to get my life turned around. I've been clean for a month and haven't done any coke or even had a drink since then. I'm really tryin', honest. Don't let him talk to me like that!"

Was this the same Theoren Fleury who had played for three different teams and had never once, while playing for any of them, exhibited any sort of trust in or respect for me? Was this the same guy who'd told me to go eff myself time and time again, who'd thrown his helmet at me, railed against me as an authority figure because he never wanted to play by the rules and, by virtue of my job, I forced him to? Could it be that man who was now was pouring out his heart to me?

He was desperate – I could see that in his eyes, along with a deep sadness and lifelessness. There were lines etched on his face from wounds that not even the best doctors could diagnose or repair; and he wore psychological scars from his troubled existence, despite being a superstar winger in the National Hockey League. I was confused in this moment by what I was seeing from Theo Fleury, but then again, most things that Theo did were confusing to the average person. In a moment of vulnerability, when I could easily have gotten him back and told him to eff off, I looked into those tormented eyes and felt compassion. I was reminded of my own seven children and how I felt for them when they were in distress, especially my son Ian, who had been to Fleury's hockey school a few years before. Theo Fleury was his favourite player growing up and Ian had a signed poster on his wall. Looking at Theo, I couldn't help but feel a small tug at my heartstrings and a desire to help take some of the pain away. Although Theo wasn't looking for a father's shoulder to cry on (he was still too proud for that), he was reaching out to me for the first time in our tumultuous relationship. I saw before me a broken human being with a dangerous combination of vulnerability, volatility, and weakness.

It was in this vulnerability, though, that I saw potential strength and could feel hope for him. He was probably expecting me to disappoint or mock him, as so many with authority had done throughout his life. But that was not my intention; I needed to throw Theo a lifeline. I only hoped he might grasp at it…

(The continuation of this story is too long for this blog. If and when you read on you will find it to be a life lesson for all involved and one in which, I believe, all players, coaches and even refs can learn from. I certainly did.)

Dean
M.Ed (Coaching)
Ch.P.C. (Chartered Professional Coach)
Game Intelligence Training
"Great education depends on great teaching."