As told to: Rick Shanley
We were in Muskegon and I’d gotten into it with Carlo Torresan earlier in the game, probably first or early second period. He was big and strong, overpowering- hard to fight- but I wasn’t going to step away. Honestly, I lost quite handedly. I remember that they got us separated and took us to the box, where we kept antagonizing each other. They got me into the box first – probably because I was more willing on that particular occasion – and he came by the box. I said something, I don’t remember what it was, but he went absolutely bonkers and got thrown out of the game. All was moving along rather smooth until later on there was a fight going on. I got hooked up with one of the guys who didn’t fight much; I just grabbed the guy and he wasn’t too interested, wasn’t a big combatant, and I was watching another teammate fight somebody.When you’re in the middle of a brawl and the place erupts, you don’t know what’s going on: you’re not looking for a guy in street clothes on the ice.
All of a sudden, the guy I was standing there holding says, “Please don’t hit me.” Had he not said anything, it would’ve been fine. But it just struck me wrong. Especially because I just finished getting the living crap beat out of me by the friggin’ gorilla. The way he said it struck me as wrong. I just started peeling him. It was in the playoffs, so it was time to make something happen, and I just started giving it to him. The benches emptied. Torresan, in street clothes, came out of the Zamboni alley and the place erupted. I was between the blue line and the center ice line on the visitor’s bench side. When you’re in the middle of a brawl and the place erupts, you don’t know what’s going on: you’re not looking for a guy in street clothes on the ice.
I turned around and saw Torresan running out. The dress of the day was one of those flowered, open-neck silk shirts and a choker around the neck. He was right in style. When I saw him my eyes got as big as saucers. Here was the opportunity I was waiting for. A guy in street clothes is no competition, but just as I turned to approach him, Mario Lessard-our goalie who ended up playing for the Los Angeles Kings- came flying by and jumped on Torresan. He jumped so high his butt-end hit me in the shoulder.
