This was a book I’ve been looking forward to reading since the untimely passing of legendary Red Wing and Blackhawk enforcer Bob Probert on July 5 of this year.

Co-authored by Kirstie McLellan Day, it really does sound as though it’s Probert’s voice, telling the story of his life, mostly during his hockey playing years.

Apparently, the book was not quite done when Bob passed away, and it does lead one to wonder what might have been left out, or what was included but not fully polished.

As it is, it reads like a rambling narrative of Bob’s teams, coaches, teammates, girlfriends, wife, and children, brushes with the law, etc.

It provides a lot of interesting insight on the “code” of enforcers in the NHL during that era—what an enforcer did and didn’t do, both on and off the ice.

You also get a sense of who Bob was—good and bad. Although he doesn’t spend much time at all in the book offering an analysis of why he did what he did, referring to talk a lot about what he did, leaving the reader to wonder if, at the time of his death, he fully understood the forces that drove him out of control on so many occasions.

He was a son and a brother, a hockey player, a free spirit, a husband and father. He was also, clearly, an alcoholic and an addict.

And it would be naïve of anyone to completely separate those facts from the rest of his life.

The good Bob was fun-loving, incredibly energetic, slow to anger, with a noble (in its own way) sense of right and wrong and how to treat the weak and less fortunate.

At the same time, the bad Bob was incredibly selfish with regard to his addictions and the pain he put others through repeatedly.

Many supported, forgave and even enabled him, not just because he was a valuable commodity on the ice, but because he was a lovable goof off the ice. And you get the sense that Bob, like a lot of addict/alcoholics, knew how to manipulate that to his advantage.

Probert talks about how from his first beer consumed as a 15 year old, he loved the feeling of getting drunk.

He sort of brushes over an early diagnosis of ADHD (which is common among addicts). The ADHD diagnosis (characterized by a lack of dopamine in the brain) helps you clearly understand his addictions, thrill-seeking, defiance and incredible energy. But you wonder if he understood it, or cared to.

He mentions numerous rehab facilities he attended (and typically left early to go party), and even a regular AA meeting he attended in Chicago.

But regrettably, he fails to use the book as an opportunity to completely take responsibility for his addictions, and perhaps set an example for others.

You do get occasional admissions of guilt at certain points in the book. And while apparently his undiagnosed heart disease was slowing him down near the end of his life, and perhaps keeping his demons at bay, you wonder if he had lived what his life would have been like.

But clearly, he recognized toward the end the hurt he had put on his family.

Regardless, it’s a good, fast read and he doesn’t hold back on his feelings about certain players, executives and coaches.

One thing I came away with was an even greater appreciation of the character and decency of Steve Yzerman, who penned a really touching foreword to the book.

The full title of the book is Tough Guy, My Life On The Edge.

Probert was a legendary figure, larger than life, very complex, and perhaps not so much chased by demons as driven by them. All the while, he remained essentially a good person with good intentions.

A Life On The Edge indeed.

Thanks for reading.

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