by Bob Mckenzie
BM: You’re a big fan of mixed martial arts fighting. Do you use any of that training to help you with fighting in hockey?
BP: When I met my buddy [UFC fighter] Sam Stout five years ago—we’re both from London, we didn’t grow up in the same area, but we knew of each other—we became good friends right away. I started training with him. I do my regular [off-season hockey-related strength] training, but also I train in the ring with Sammy to work on punching. It’s been tough the last couple of years with my injuries. I’ve been limited, by the time my injuries heal up.
BM: Do you know how many fights you have had in your career?
BP: Total?
BM: Yes—OHL, AHL, NHL, pre-season, regular season and playoffs.
BP: I think it’s close to 250.
BM: As of today [April 8, 2014], it’s 264, according to HockeyFights.com. That’s a lot of fights.
BP: It is a lot, isn’t it?
BM: Do you know who you’ve fought the most?
BP: It’s gotta be Cam Janssen . . . or Adam Keefe.
BM: You’re good. It’s Keefe. Kitchener vs. London. Minor pro. I count nine fights with Adam Keefe and seven with Janssen. Imagine how much higher the Keefe number would be if he played against you in the NHL. The fights with him were in junior or the AHL—the last one was in 2008.
BP: [Keefe] is one of those guys I talked about [who, if] we were playing against each other, we knew we were fighting. I thought Janssen would have been the most.
BM: You’ve had a lot of multiple fights with the same guy—Paul Bissonnette, Mike Brown, Brad Staubitz, Kelsey Wilson, Nathan McIver, Rick Rypien, Milan Lucic, Chris Neil, Zac Rinaldo . . . By the way, is there not a rule against fighting former London Knights [like Rinaldo]?
BP: Nope. [He grins.] I was never teammates [with Rinaldo]. If I’m playing for the New York Rangers and he’s playing for Philadelphia, it’s going to happen.
BM: Do you remember who your first NHL fight was against?
BP: Rick Rypien?
BM: No, it was Jody Shelley.
BP: You’re right. I was just called up. It was my second NHL game. In Columbus. I went after him.
BM: What was more exciting: your first NHL game or your first NHL fight, which came in your second NHL game?
BP: My first NHL game, in Detroit. My whole family was there. I think I played pretty good. I think I played maybe eight minutes. Felt like it, anyway. It felt like 20 minutes to me. Hasek was the goalie. I was playing against [Pavel] Datsyuk, [Henrik] Zetterberg and [Nicklas] Lidstrom. That was pretty cool playing against those guys.
BM: We went over that list of guys you’ve fought multiple times. Is there anybody in that group who falls into that category of someone you hated, where the fight was personal?
BP: Nobody. I’ve seen most of those guys outside of the rink and had conversations with them. It’s just business.
BM: Is there anyone it is really personal with?
BP: Hmmm . . . you know, coming up, I really hated David Clarkson. Our fights were personal. I think we’ve both matured now; we maybe don’t have the same hatred. There’s more respect now. But as teenagers in London and Kitchener, and when I fought him when I was in Phoenix and he was in New Jersey, it was personal.
BM: You would never consider yourself a heavyweight, would you? How much do you weigh?
BP: One hundred and ninety-five pounds.
BM: How tall are you? Are you really six feet?
BP: With sandals on, yes. Six feet with sandals on. [He laughs.]
BM: Yet you’ve fought heavyweights, guys like Janssen, and even super heavyweights, you fought (six-foot-eight, 260-pound) John Scott in the minors.
BP: I don’t know what I was thinking there. I also fought Steve MacIntyre. Again, what was I thinking? I did pretty well against him, too. That was my first year up in Calgary, and after I did that, I remember [Flames coach] Mike Keenan came up to me after the period and hugged me. He gave me a big hug.
BM: Has the fighting landscape changed much since you broke in? The size of the guys or the science of it?
BP: I don’t know . . . it’s tough to say. I’ve fought the same way and for the same reasons: to make a stand for our team, to stand up for teammates, to continue to make a name for myself that I’m not going to back down. I think it’s an important piece of the team. I know a lot of people are trying to get fighting out of hockey, but I think it’s an important part of the game. I do believe if you take fighting out, there are going to be more injuries, more guys will take liberties if there are no consequences for your actions.
BM: Do you really believe that? You’ve said yourself that some guys, no matter what, won’t answer the bell, so how does fighting now prevent what you call the rats from being rats?
BP: Well, there aren’t many rats. I think a lot of guys still play with pride and honour. It’s what makes our game unique in that sense. The fact that we can police our own game a bit, make people think twice about trying to take a run at and potentially hurt a top player. And if [the rat] doesn’t answer the bell, eventually, if he continues, I’m just gonna start throwing punches and give him what he deserves.
BM: Do you think the anti-fighting forces in hockey will eventually get their way?
BP: I can see it eventually happening. The game has changed so much since the [2004] lockout. It’s not the same game I grew up watching, that’s for sure. And I think a lot of the changes were for the good. But you see some of the penalties that are being called nowadays. It’s getting softer and softer every year, it seems. A little whack, a little tug, a little hold-up. Penalty. I laugh at calls that are called on the other team sometimes. It’s a different game from that “tough, battle through everything, only the men survive” style. So I imagine they will eventually take out fighting. Hopefully, not in my day. And whenever they do it, it will be the biggest mistake hockey ever made.
BM: When I hear you talking about fighting, it’s as if I’m listening to Don Cherry. You’re definitely his kind of player, but he went after you on “Coach’s Corner” because you got into a little skirmish with a goalie [Tampa’s Ben Bishop in 2013–14]. How did it feel to get called out by Grapes on Hockey Night in Canada?
BP: My dad and I actually happened to be watching it together when Don chirped me. My dad was more upset than I was. I didn’t really care. We all know you have to discard about 50 per cent of what comes out of Mr. Cherry’s mouth.
BM: Your dad had always been a big fan of Don Cherry. I was looking, and your dad has a Twitter account (@kevinprust). He’s only ever tweeted a few times, but two of them were directed at Cherry (@CoachsCornerCBC): “He plays exactly how ur rock em sock em’s taught him . . . my son is 1 of the most honest players in the league . . . loved by every teammate he’s ever had.”
BP: My dad doesn’t watch [“Coach’s Corner”] anymore. [He laughs.] Seriously, Don will come on the TV now, and I guess my dad turns the channel. That’s a direct quote from my mom. [He laughs.]
BM: I think the fear some people have now with fighting is that, with the size of the guys fighting and how they train to punch, someone could die in a fight one day. Does that ever cross your mind?
BP: [Pauses.] No, not really. I think the league does a good job of controlling things—the linesmen jump in if someone gets jerseyed; if a guy is down or hurt, the other guy backs off and is more respectful. You do see guys get knocked out sometimes. Kevin Westgarth [of the Calgary Flames] last month, unfortunately, he got it bad, and you don’t like to see that. That’s a scary situation. But [getting knocked unconscious] could happen anywhere, not just in a fight. It could happen in any [contact] sport.
BM: Is fighting more difficult now because visors are mandatory?
BP: Yeah, but when I fought in junior, I would punch to the bottom of the visor, and that would pop the helmet off. It would kind of blind them for a secon
d. You can cut your hand, but my hands are taking a beating anyway—what’s another cut? I don’t mind [fighting a player wearing a visor]. I don’t want a guy to take his helmet off. I’ll try to punch their helmet off or just pull it off. I can use that visor to my advantage in a fight.
BM: In the OHL now, if the helmet comes off, the fight is basically over. The linesmen jump in to break it up. Do you think that’s a good thing?
BP: At that age, in junior, yeah, but if you’re fighting someone, you’re trying to get their helmet off. Wait—you’re saying in junior now, they stop the fight if the helmet comes off?
BM: Yes, that’s the rule in the OHL. After Don Sanderson died [in January 2008] during a fight where his helmet came off and he hit his head on the ice during a senior game, the OHL put in new rules about fighting without a helmet.
BP: That’s a good rule for kids at that age. They’re not as experienced; they’re more reckless in how they fight. It’s not a bad thing. But not in the NHL, no. I don’t agree with that. I mean, not if you’re going to have visors on, too. If you don’t have visors on, there’s no need to take a helmet off. I don’t think you can do that in the NHL, they should just let [fights] go in the NHL.
BM: You’ve had 264 fights and, all things being equal, by the time you retire you’re going to be well over 300 career fights. Knowing what we know now about head trauma and concussions, are you worried about what effect that could have on you for the rest of your life?
BP: Knock on wood, I haven’t had a lot of concussions or head trauma from fighting. That’s why I fight the way I fight. I’m not a guy who stands in there and eats a lot of punches. I want to have a long career. It’s not a punching-bag match. I try to use my brain. I want to play 15 years in the NHL. Guys are protecting themselves a lot more now. You see [in] the old days, guys would just stand in there and whale away on each other.
BM: Yet you’ve seen a teammate go down. George Parros was knocked out a couple of times this season. How does that affect you?
BP: That first game of the season, when he went down in the fight with Colton Orr, I was right beside him. I was trying to help him. It was definitely hard, it’s something you definitely don’t want to see happen to anyone. But when it hits so close to home, it’s even worse. That’s the fear we go into every game with. I could get hit into the boards and get my head smoked every time I go on the ice. A helmet only helps so much. That’s the same fear [all hockey players] live with every day. Any of us could get [knocked unconscious or injured] in any game we play. It’s a dangerous game.
BM: How do you think the people close to you—your girlfriend, Maripier, and your parents—cope with the dangers of your job as a fighter?
BP: They worry, for sure. But they don’t make it visible to me, because they know I don’t want to see or hear that. I think they trust the way I play and the way I fight.
BM: [London Knights GM] Mark Hunter says that when you walk into a dressing room, you light it up, that you don’t have any bad days and you’re a really well-adjusted, happy guy who lives life to the fullest. Many would say being an NHL fighter has a really dark side to it, that doing this job creates demons. Can you separate those two worlds? Or do you feel like there’s part of this job that could eat you up?
BP: I’d be lying if I told you fighting doesn’t worry me at times. But it’s a healthy fear for me that helps to make me a good fighter. It’s a job I’ve chosen. I don’t let it mix me up. It’s my job. It can be stressful at times. For sure. But it’s something I don’t ever regret. I don’t plan to change my game. I’m the player I’ve always wanted to be ever since I was a kid and I watched Wendel Clark play. I wanted to be a leader, on and off the ice, and fighting is part of my game. That is stress I’ve chosen to accept. I’m good with it, I’m happy.
BM: In the summer of 2011, there were three deaths in hockey, and one of those tragedies hit really close to home for you. Derek Boogaard was a friend, a roommate, a teammate. That must have been really difficult for you.
BP: It was a really tough time. He was my roommate on the road for a month [before he got injured and subsequently died]. We were close. That was tough for our whole team. When we found out he had died, a lot of us were together, and that was really difficult. That whole summer was terrible, just awful, with the death of three fighters [Boogaard, Rick Rypien and Wade Belak]. I was so sad for all of them. I know it made people worry [that the deaths were fight-related]. I am sure fighting could have been a demon for them, but whether you’re a fighter or not a fighter, everyone in this world has issues they have to deal with, and everyone deals with them differently. This is something I know for a fact. I know Boogaard could be a happy guy and loved coming to the rink. I didn’t know Rypien or Belak. I had some wars with Rypien [four fights]. What a great competitor he was. What a sad story. Whether fighting was the reason or not for their deaths, exactly what part it played, I’m not sure we’ll ever really know.
BM: Well, there’s no doubt being a fighter is hockey’s most difficult job. It certainly seems as if there’s a real bond or brotherhood amongst those who do it.
BP: There is mutual respect. If you’re fighting another guy who fights, you can’t hate him. You’re doing the same role. It’s a tough job. We know what we go through to do it. We know it’s business.
BM: Would you rather be known as a good player or a good fighter?
BP: Can you do both? That’s the goal. I want to be both. I want to be looked at as a great fighter. I want to be remembered as a great player, a leader, a guy who helped lead his team to a championship, to a Stanley Cup.
BM: Would you rather score a goal or win a fight?
BP: Score a goal. [He breaks out in a big smile.] I love scoring goals. There are different days, though. Today, it’s a goal. Tomorrow, it might be a fight. I love scoring, but there’s something about being at the Bell Centre in front of 20,000 people, or at Madison Square Garden, squaring off at centre ice, people cheering you on. There’s something about that experience that you can’t touch.
BM: Would you change anything about your life in hockey?
BP: No, I’m not a guy who looks back and dwells on decisions. You can’t change what has happened. I have no regrets. I’d do it all over again exactly the same if given the chance.
BM: If you were to have a son and he grows up and says, “Dad, I want to do exactly what you did, I want to fight in the NHL,” what would you say to him?
BP: Get training. Get working. If he wants to be a warrior, all the power to him. I like that mindset.
CHAPTER 8
Recalculating
Karl Subban Sets the GPS for a Legacy Beyond
Three Sons Being Drafted into the NHL
* * *
The photograph, taken in the winter of 1970, was meant to be a family postcard of sorts. Just a little something to mail back home to the relatives in Jamaica, to show them the marvel of this thing called snow, this entirely new and oh-so-foreign experience of a first Canadian winter at the family’s rented duplex on Peter Street in the hard-rock northern Ontario city of Sudbury.
There was the matriarch of the family, Fay, stepping outside for a quick snapshot, in her pretty pink dress and matching hairband and, funnily enough, wearing furry blue slippers, smiling, with her arms around three of her sons in the picture: nine-year-old Markel, on the left; 10-year-old Patrick, on the far right; and 12-year-old Karl, between his mother and Patrick. The snow was piled up high—midwinter high—against the house behind them. Each of the boys was grinning, holding snowballs in their bare hands, Markel and Karl pretending to be eating them like snow cones. All three were decked out in matching dark green winter coats and boots.
No one, certainly not any of those actually in the photo, or anyone back home in Jamaica who would have seen the picture—or another similar snapshot in which young Karl was in front of the house, proudly clutching his first hockey stick
, given to him by their landlord’s hockey-playing son—could have possibly dreamed what it would foreshadow: that the unusually tall 12-year-old Jamaican immigrant boy was about to embark on a Canadian hockey odyssey that, one day, could be talked about in the same tones of wonderment usually reserved for a Viking, Alberta, rancher who fathered six sons who would play in the NHL or a Thunder Bay, Ontario, sod farmer with four boys playing professionally, three of them in the NHL.
Karl Subban’s school community retirement celebration was June 25, 2013, at Claireville Junior School, where he had most recently been the principal. It’s just a four-mile hop, skip and jump from the Subban family’s six-bedroom home (two in the basement, four upstairs) in the Humberwood neighbourhood of Rexdale, in northwest Toronto, where the family resided for 20-plus years.
The celebration of his 30 years as an educator—teacher, administrator and principal—came 10 days after his eldest son, Montreal Canadien star P.K., was in Chicago during the Stanley Cup final to win the Norris Trophy as the NHL’s best defenceman. It was just five days before the NHL draft in Newark, New Jersey, where the baby of the family, Jordan, another defenceman, would be chosen in the fourth round by the Vancouver Canucks. And about two weeks before goalie Malcolm (in the middle, naturally), a 2011 first-round pick of the Boston Bruins and a blue-chip netminding prospect, would head off to the NHL team’s summer development camp, in preparation for what would be his first professional season.
On the occasion of Karl’s retirement, the whole family was there to celebrate it. Karl’s wife and partner of more than 30 years, Maria, herself already retired from the Canadian Imperial Bank of Commerce; eldest daughter and schoolteacher Nastasia, with her three little boys, two-year-old Legacy and his four-month-old twin brothers, Epic and Honor; second-oldest daughter Natasha, an artist turned teacher; and, of course, the three hockey-playing Subban brothers, who gave the event an air of celebrity as students and parents scrambled to get autographs and pictures with the bona fide NHL star and two more bound and determined to follow in P.K.’s footsteps.