Award-winning TV writer and Boston Bruins fan Dave Flebotte passed away July 8 at age 65. The Boston native’s professional writing career saw him write and produce for popular shows including The Sopranos, Will & Grace, Boardwalk Empire and The Bernie Mac Show.
But for this writer, Flebotte was a close friend and a passionate hockey fan. Flebotte was forever a supporter of his beloved Bruins, and he counted himself fortunate to see the B’s win three Stanley Cups.
Flebotte was particularly proud that he got to write for The Hockey News.
In this exclusive column from The Hockey News’ special-edition 2009 book, Puck Funnies: Hockey Humor, Hilarity & Hi-Jinx, Flebotte’s talent at writing hilarious pieces was on full display. He was thrilled to write for THN, and THN was just as thrilled to have him as a contributor. He was also a lifelong subscriber, putting his money where his mouth was. He’s going to be missed.
On behalf of The Hockey News, our sincere condolences go out to Flebotte’s wife, Sandra, and his children, Zach and Emma.
Please enjoy Flebotte’s column, which was deservedly Chapter 1 in the Puck Funnies book.
Dinner Is Bruin-ed
By Dave Flebotte
I love the Boston Bruins.
Since May 10, 1970, I’ve been an avid fan. It was Mother’s Day that day, and being Sicilian, my family’s gift to my mom was to let her prepare an enormous Italian meal and then let her clean up afterwards. I was in fifth grade and remember a jar of Ponds Cold Cream the size of her head being offered as a way of saying, “Thanks, Mom, for another great year of cooking, cleaning and quiet desperation.”
Aside from the stuffed artichokes, the thing that stands out about that day was the Bruins winning their first Stanley Cup in 29 years.
I watched it on a little black-and-white we kept in the kitchen to keep dinner conversation to a minimum. An uncle was watching it alone. Overtime had just started. Then an Orr-to-Sanderson, back-to-Orr later, it was over. All that was left was for the late Ray Lussier to capture Orr in mid-flight and my Uncle Charlie to scream the F-word at the top of his lungs. (In my house, the F-word was used as an expression of exultation, disdain and at times, affection.)
From that moment on, I was hooked. I bought my first copy of The Hockey News in ’72. Dale Tallon was on the cover and rumored to be coming to Boston. I never knew the publication existed. I borrowed fifty cents from my brother and ran back to the convenience store, where the clerk held it for me because even though there were three of them, I was sure they would fly off the shelf as soon as someone discovered, as I had, their existence. I took it back home, went up to my room and swallowed it whole.
It was a great time to be a Bruins fan. Two Cups in the first three years of my coming aboard. From Orr, Esposito, Cheevers, O’Reilly, to later, Bourque, Neely, Oates, Lemelin; all the way up to now with Savard, Chara, Lucic and Thomas. Only alcohol has been as good a friend to me as the Boston Bruins.
So when my pal, Adam Proteau, asked me if I’d be interested in writing an article for The Hockey News, it wasn’t a matter of if, but what part of Bruins history I’d write about.
My first draft, the words “The Canadiens suck,” written until I reached 1,000 words, was rejected. Though it did point to one of the greatest rivalries in professional sports, Adam found it a little too one-dimensional. So I started to think about who were some of my favorite players and what moments really stood out in the 39 years I’ve been following the team.
What I realized was, it wasn’t just the stars who came to mind, but mostly it was the scrubs. The Bobby Schmautzes, Bruce Shoebottoms, and Greg Hawgoods that made up some of my favorite memories.
So I decided on this: “Five Bruins I Love, But Who You Might Not Give A Rat’s Ass About.” You never asked for it, but here it is:
5. Bill Bennett. Who? In 1979, Bill Bennett played only seven games for the Boston Bruins. He had a goal and four assists, and that was that. Gone.
Why is he a Bruin I love? Because Bill wore No. 7 after ‘Espo’ was traded. I love that he had the balls to put it on, and I’m thankful that he wasn’t good enough to stick with the club and keep it. Had he found his way onto a fourth line and hung around, Ray Bourque may not have gotten the number.
Then, when the Bruins retired Esposito’s number, we’d have lost one of the greatest moments in Bruins history: Ray peeling off the No. 7 jersey and handing it to Phil while wearing his new number, 77, underneath.
How anticlimactic would that have been to watch Bill Bennett pull off his jersey to reveal the now-revered double-seven? An angry Phil would’ve probably had Ken Hodge rip the jersey off Bennett’s back before he had a chance to give it to him.
4. P.J. Stock. When I’m feeling down or a wee bit blue – maybe my script just got thrown out, or my son asked me for an A-Rod T-shirt – nothing picks me up like going on YouTube and watching P.J. Stock go toe-to-toe with Stephen Peat of the Washington Capitals.
Having won only one fight out of fifteen myself (that’s right Jeffrey Morgan, I’m talking about you, b----), I find something cathartic in watching five-foot-nothin’ P.J. Stock throw haymakers to the heads of behemoths without the use of a foot stool. Half Rock-em sock-em robot, half energizer bunny, he’d finish every fight with a little wave to the Garden faithful that said, “This ass-kicking’s for you.”
3. Normand Leveille. No. 19’s career was cut short due to a cerebral hemorrhage in ’83, just 75 games into his tenure as a Boston Bruin.
His arrival was just after Don Cherry’s Lunch Pail Gang had ruled the roost in Boston from the mid-to-late seventies. Hard-nosed, gritty players were their calling card. No real superstars, just good old plain folk who skated their wing, punched you in the face and out-hustled everyone else,
Leveille was something new to Boston when he came aboard in ’81. Something we’d only seen in a Canadiens jersey. Our very own “Flying Frenchman!” He would zip into corners of the old Garden with someone in hot pursuit, then suddenly stop short, throwing his shoulder backwards into their chest and them onto their asses.
Add to that he had a real knack for the net, like a physical Yvan Cournoyer. His loss was definitely the greatest tragedy to hit the B’s ever (apologies to superstar Bruins goaltending prospect Ian Young and the eye injury that ended his career before his first pro game). Way too short a time in a B's sweater, but really sweet.
2. Wayne Cashman. ‘Captain Cash’ patrolled the left wing with Phil Esposito and Ken Hodge from the late 1960s until their departure in ’75. His sweater doesn’t hang from the Garden rafters, and he’s never been brought up as a Hall of Fame possibility, but still is one of the all-time great Bruins.
Cashman exemplified what it meant to be a Big Bad Bruin in the ’70s: fearless, a ton of heart and the ability to put the puck in the net. He wasn’t one of those dimestore Flyers who would amass 300-plus minutes but couldn’t hit the side of Kate Smith. He owned the corners. He was a lot like O’Reilly (too obvious a choice), but where Terry skated with all the elegance of a drunk driver taking out a row of mailboxes, Cash was smooth.
My favorite Cashman moment: during a nationally televised afternoon game against the Flyers at the Spectrum, he goes out of his way on his first shift to fly across the ice and nail Dave Schultz, then just glares at him. Message sent.
1. Ron Grahame. Grahame was a goalie for the Bruins in the ’77-78 season. That was the year the Bruins used three goalies full-time. (Gilles Gilbert and Cheevers were the other two.)
The previous off-season, Grahame was signed as a free-agent defector from the Houston Aeros of the World Hockey Association. His first and only year with the Bruins was solid – but that’s not why he’s No. 1 on my list.
He earned it because that summer Harry Sinden sent him to the L.A. Kings – where acting GM George Maguire was accepting the Baz Bastien Trophy as Worst GM Of All-Time – for the right to draft Ray Bourque.
The rest is Bruins history. Ray played 20-1/2 seasons for the B's before finally bringing the Cup home to Boston. Albeit, in a Colorado Avalanche jersey.
Still, it’s hard to stay mad at Harry after that one.
