The late Bernie Parent joined Anthony SanFilippo on an episode of "Snow The Goalie."
Sunday was my anniversary.
My wife and I decided to celebrate it with a long weekend in Niagara Falls.
I had been there countless times, but she never had and was itching to go.
Of course I said yes, even though it’s a tourist trap.
That said, traveling in the NHL, every time you go to Buffalo or Toronto, you are tempted to make the short trip to the Falls, and get to know the spots that the locals enjoy more than the tourists.
Back in 2013, when Fred Shero was posthumously inducted in the Hockey Hall of Fame, I had a free night the evening before the ceremony, so a friend and I decided to make the trek to the Falls.
I was most intrigued in hitting the casino that night, and as it turned out, I had a very good night at the blackjack table.
Flush with a wad of Canadian cash, I returned to Toronto the next night and sat alongside a large cadre of Broad Street Bullies as they watched their coach finally get inducted into the Hall.
Afterwards, Flyers chairman Ed Snider threw a party for all of the Bullies in attendance at a local establishment.
Stories were being told. Laughs were being shared.
Feeling emboldened to share myself, I told a few of the Bullies about my success the night before. I didn’t think much of it after getting a couple of pats on the back, as the conversation shifted back to hockey reminiscence.
At one point, I mentioned my favorite story about Bernie Parent.
It’s a story about Bernie calling Joe Watson over to the net during an intense game, and Watson thinking Parent wanted to talk strategy. But Parent had a different message: “You know, Joe, I think tonight I’m going to have two slices of the pizza.”
The guys laughed. They had heard that story hundreds of times before. They had told it dozens of times themselves.
As the party wore on, I had drifted to the other side of the room from the Bullies and was talking to some other Flyers employees when a waiter made his way over to me with several to-go boxes filled with pizza.
He handed me the bill.
The Bullies looked over and laughed. I had just become indoctrinated into their culture. Bernie walked over, patted me on the shoulder, didn’t say anything, but reached into one box and grabbed two slices.
It was poetic.
Sunday was also a sad day.
Imagine my shock and the wave of emotions nearly 12 years after that night with the Bullies as I walked out from the tunnels behind Niagara Falls to regain cell reception and have my phone blow up all at once with the news of Bernie’s death.
I don’t need to recap what Bernie meant to the Philadelphia Flyers. You already know that.
By now you also know what Bernie meant to the community. His constant involvement with the Ed Snider Youth Hockey Foundation. His frequent visits to St. Christopher’s Hospital. His appearance at almost any event he was asked to attend. Hundreds of photos. Thousands of autographs. One great story after another. A gem of a human who was always the life of the party and everyone’s friend.
I can’t tell you how many events I’ve been to with Bernie, but I can tell you every one of them was memorable.
Whether it was standing on the deck of the Great American Pub at a Snider Hockey fundraiser, introducing him to my wife and engaging in a conversation with Glen Macnow and Lou Nolan; or when he joined us on Snow the Goalie at Brooklyn Bowl for a fantasy draft.
But my most memorable moment with Bernie was a total surprise.
Bernie was at Conshohocken Brewing Company as part of a partnership with Flyers Charities to help the brewery launch their Jonsey Beer, in honor of Flyers President Keith Jones.
We broadcasted from there as well. The Wi-Fi was terrible. The restaurant was packed and people could barely move. But Bernie made his way over to the table.
And what happened next caught me completely off guard.
Bernie jokingly wanted to do the interview in French. When I said I didn’t know French, he faked like he was choking me.
That’s how playful he was. Every minute of every day he spent in public.
Bernie dealt with severe back injuries for a while. He was in pain, but never showed it. That’s because he just wanted to make everyone happy every time out. He was special that way.
He is arguably the nicest superstar player to ever make his way through Philadelphia.
He will be sorely missed.
So much so, that I asked my wife to drive for multiple hours on the way home from Niagara Falls so I could write this on my phone.
When we get home, my wife will probably be too exhausted to make dinner and will recommend ordering out.
I’ll order a pizza, and just for tonight, I think I’ll have two slices.
