I have had far too much practice in recent years writing these kind of blogs. Back when I was coming of age as student-athlete at the University of Pennsylvania, the Broad Street Bullies era Flyers practiced daily at the Class of 1923 Arena. I worked as a rink attendant.
I’ve said this many times before: the Flyers treated me much more kindly than my own teammates on the Penn hockey team. I could do right down the list: Barry Ashbee, Dave Schultz, Ed Van Impe, the Watson brothers, Terry Crisp, Bob Kelly, etc. Even back then, though, being near Bernie Parent was to know you were in the presence of greatness.
Bernie was a people-pleaser in the positive sense. He made people happy just to see him. “Bennie” (as teammates called him) had the gift to make people laugh. He was always update, smiling, and approachable. He needled teammates but not half as much as he poked fun at himself.
Watching Parent on the ice during the Flyers’ Cup years was pure magic. Gary Dornhoefer used to come ask him, “Bernie, how many goals do we need to get for you to win tonight?” The inevitable answer: just one, maybe two. He never went higher.
Bernie loved to talk about his dogs, his boat, his fishing and hunting trips. He relaxed by watching The Three Stooges on a black-and-white TV. His belly laugh at the slapstick comedy filled the room. When it was time to leave for the team bus, teammates had to tell him to hurry up. If he could possibly accomodate one more autograph seeker, one more camera or one more young hockey player, he did it.
This is one of my favorite quips about Bernie, given my own history. Terry Crisp said, “There’s something wrong with that guy. He even loves the referees.”
Parent didn’t have an enemy in the world. Happiest person you could hope to meet.
As I said, I’m getting too much practice as these types of articles. In recent weeks, we lost Ken Dryden. Then we lost Eddie Giacomin. Now we lose Bernie Parent. Lest we forget, their legacies on and off the ice are indelible.
Meanwhile, right now, there’s one hell of a goalie duel going on somewhere up there right now. Fred Shero coaches one side. He’s tabbed Bernie Parent, as usual, to be in net. Ed Van Impe and Barry Ashbee guard the front of the net. Not even Gordie Howe, Rocket Richard, Jean Beliveau, Bobby Hull or Stan Mikita are finding much space to shoot. When does get through, the goalies stop. John McCauley is the referee.
There’s a hockey joke that goes: Hockey people are so cheap they wouldn’t pay to see the Last Supper with the original cast. For this game, though, it’s an impossible ticket to score.
