Photo by Mark Hicks/Westside Photo

Bob Probert (fifth from left, with Kevin Miller, coach Doug MacLean, Paul Ysebaert, Steve Yzerman

and Sergei Fedorov) played nine seasons in Detroit

 

Probert was more than just NHL’s toughest

 

When Bob Probert was invested in a National Hockey League fight, he was the scariest player I've witnessed in my years of writing about hockey.

 

It always seemed as if Probert needed to take a couple of punches to get into the bout. But when he did engage, his fists fired like a jackhammer pounding pavement. He was a devastating puncher. Former NHL tough guy Tie Domi told me years ago that Probert was the toughest man he ever faced.

 

"He was a monster," another former NHL tough guy Kelly Chase once said about Probert. "He's looking at you with his eyes rolling back like he's a shark. Now you know you woke him up.”

 

Long before, the Red Wings became the NHL's top offensive team, Hockeytown fever was born out of Detroit fans' love of tough Red Wings teams led by Probert and Joey Kocur. The Bruise Brothers were as popular as any Detroit players outside of Steve Yzerman and Gordie Howe.

 

Probert might have been the top fighter in NHL history. If he wasn't the best, it was probably the late John Ferguson.

 

Probert often seemed invincible when he was pounding an opponent, that's why the hockey world is struggling to adjust to the reality that Probert, 45, died in Windsor after complaining of chest pains on July 5.

 

From a reporter's standpoint, the most fascinating aspect of Probert was his demeanor.  He was Robert the Terrible as a heavyweight fighter, and off the ice he was simply Bob from the corner bar. It was difficult to believe the guy I was interviewing was the same guy that I had watched pummel some guy on the ice earlier that night. He was the league's bad boy, deserving of all the legal trouble he received because of drug and alcohol abuse. But he wasn't the least bit intimidating when you spoke to him. He always came across as a good guy.

 

One of my favorite Probert memories came the night that a young Peter Forsberg, then playing for Colorado, caught him high with an elbow during a playoff series between the Avalanche and Chicago Blackhawks. Forsberg was retaliating for a heavy hit that Probert had laid on him earlier in the game.

I thought Probert would teach Forsberg a lesson with an equally high hit or some form of physical encounter. But Probert left him alone. When reporters asked Probert about it after the game, Probert said essentially that he didn't go after Forsberg out of respect. He was impressed that young Forsberg, an offensive star, had come back at him. He commended Forsberg for playing the game with fire in his belly.

 

Probert had his own set of rules of how tough guys should play the game. When Stu Grimson broke into the league with Chicago, his job was to stand up for his teammates. That meant he often had to battle Probert.

Grimson said he never understood the NHL tough guy fraternity until Probert ran into him between games of a playoff series in 1992.

 

Grimson was eating dinner with his wife at a restaurant when he heard someone yell, "Hey Stu, Hey Stu." He looked up to see Probert coming toward his table. The two had fought hammer and tong the night before.

"I was new to the concept of relationships between fighters," Grimson told me. "I wondered what to do. ... Do I shake his hand or grab him by the scruff of the neck?"

 

It was Probert who stuck out his hand first for a handshake, while commending Grimson on a hard-fought battle. Probert chatted with Grimson like they were neighbors or old army buddies. Probie didn't care that they had fought many times, and might fight again tomorrow.

 

When a hockey fight was over, he didn't consider his opponent a mortal enemy. There were times when Probert didn't seem like he was even interested in fighting. The truth was that Probert was actually a quality player, and he probably could have been a memorable power forward if his vices hadn't undermined his performance level.

I asked former NHL coach and current hockey analyst Harry Neale once to compare Probert and Ferguson and he said he believed that Ferguson was hockey's greatest fighter "because he had no conscience."

 

"I don't know if Bob Probert was mean enough," Neale said. "I don't know if he ever really wanted to hurt the guy."

 

That's the Probert I choose to remember, the guy who was never really the beast that he seemed to be.