Bear to men; teddy to cubs
By Ronnie Shuker
rshuker@uwo.ca
During his NHL career, Ron Asselstine was a
beast on the ice.
"Bear," as he was known in the hockey
fraternity, loved getting his nose dirty. He took his share of
sticks in the mouth and pucks in the face, got caught with his
head down more than once and gutted out games with nagging injuries.
And now that his career is over, his bum right knee needs to be
replaced. Still, he wouldn't change a thing.
"If I knew a knee replacement would be
the price I'd have to pay for the career I had, I'd do it again
in a New York minute," said Asselstine, 61, a former NHL
linesman of 18 years. "Every Canadian kid lays awake at night
dreaming of what it would be like playing for the Toronto Maple
Leafs, Montreal Canadiens or Boston Bruins. I was one step away
from it — front and centre."
 |
| Courtesy of Ron Asselstine |
| From bear to soft, stuffed animal, Ron
Asselstine lived a double life on and off the ice. |
Asselstine may have been just one step removed
from living the NHL dream. But what few knew about him is that
the bear turned teddy off the ice and spent much of his spare
time making dreams of another sort come true.
Since 1984, Asselstine has been making dreams
happen for severely ill, injured and handicapped children in his
hometown of Guelph. He's president and founder of the Guelph Wish
Fund for Children, which has raised $1.7 million and granted more
than 250 wishes, many while he was still an active linesman. League
officials would accommodate his schedule so he could fulfil kids'
wishes.
Over the years, Asselstine has taken kids to
NHL games, including a few Stanley Cup finals. He got them into
dressing rooms to talk with players from their favourite teams,
and arranged for some to meet such superstars as Wayne Gretzky,
Mario Lemieux, Mark Messier and Brian Leetch.
And some lesser lights as well. One of them
was a result of a request that came from a Mennonite child in
Aylmer.
"I asked him if he wanted to meet Don Cherry,"
Asselstine said. "And he looked at me like I had two heads.
I mean, who doesn't know who Don Cherry is? But this kid had no
idea."
The boy didn't have a TV growing up, so he had
never seen Hockey Night in Canada. But he did have a radio. And
he listened to every Toronto Maple Leafs broadcast.
"He said, 'I don't know who that is Mr.
Asselstine, but I'd really like to meet Joe Bowen (the Leafs play-by-play
radio analyst),' " he said. "Joe loved it. He laughed
and said, 'Well, at least I know there's one community that I'm
more famous in than Don Cherry.' "
Asselstine's reach also extends far beyond hockey
circles. Off the ice, he has arranged for kids to meet David Letterman,
Barry Bonds, Kirk Cameron, Dolly Parton and Celine Dion, among
others.
On the ice, Asselstine was known as Bear for
his no nonsense attitude as well as for the inordinate amount
of body hair that adorns his imposing 6-2, 225-pound frame. But
that's just half of the grizzled veteran.
"I'm lucky," his wife, Wendy, said.
"I got to see a side of my husband that I thought I'd never
see. He's just a big ol' softy when it comes to these kids, a
real teddy bear."
Close friend Mark Pare broke into the NHL as
a linesman with Asselstine back in 1979. The two worked games
together, travelled and shared hotel rooms. Though not quite a
beauty, the beast, he said, was certainly less ferocious than
he appeared to be.
"Ron was more bark than bite," said
Pare. "He wore his emotions on his sleeve, and it was nice
to work with such a big fellow like him.
"But he always had a soft spot for kids,
and he made the wish fund his life's passion."
Asselstine retired more than a decade ago after
a career that saw him make 17 Stanley Cup playoff appearances,
two conference finals and three All-Star Games. He started plying
his trade when he was 23, after a few years of brawling his way
through beer leagues as a player. His penchant for fisticuffs
didn't impress Wendy, who was his girlfriend at the time.
"I was embarrassed at some of the things
he'd do on the ice," she said. "I didn't want anyone
to know I was with him."
She urged him to give up the game as an enforcer
and try enforcing the rules instead. He started officiating in
grassroots minor hockey in Guelph, working his way up to the big
time.
But Asselstine's belligerence as a beer leaguer
carried over into his officiating career. He was an old-school
linesman who thrived on being in the middle of some good old-fashioned
dustups.
"I used to love breaking up fights,"
he said. "The dirtier and nastier it got, the better."
And more than once Asselstine got hit while
racing up and down the ice. One such memorable hit happened in
Philadelphia.
"Eric (Lindros) almost buried me. He was
coming down the wing and I just couldn't get out of the road.
He just ran over me. He gave me one of those looks like, 'I didn't
mean it. You're not going to throw me out of the game, are you?'
I just looked up and said, 'Are you all right?' And Eric just
laughed at me."
After nearly three decades of taking hits like
that, breaking up fights, getting welts from pucks, taking more
than 50 stitches from high-sticks and four scopes on his knees,
Asselstine's body forced him to retire in 1997.
"One day you're this young, strong guy
who can keep up, fearless, who can go in there head down, ass
up, getting your nose dirty," he said. "Then all of
a sudden you're in your late 40s and you just don't want to get
mangled and mashed or hit with the puck anymore because it hurts
too much now."
But his blue-collar approach to the game endeared
him to the players he policed.
"I worked with a passion, sometimes too
much," he said. "But the guys that I worked with and
the players realized that I really cared. I cared about their
safety; I cared about how well they played."
These days, Asselstine puts most of his time
and energy into the wish fund. From a bear in zebra stripes to
a teddy to tots and teenagers just hoping to survive, Asselstine
lived his dream while making others happen for kids living a nightmare.
He's impassioned about the wish fund and the kids he has helped,
and he's comforted that most survive their illness.
"I'm looking at one girl right now and
she's kissing a dolphin," he said, noticing one of the photos
in his office. "That was her wish — to swim with the
dolphins. She was 12 then. Now she's turning 30 and is married
with a five-year-old child."
But some never made it into adulthood, and there
are others who never will. Just last month, three kids whom Asselstine
was helping died — one of liver disease, the others from
a heart problem and brain cancer.
"These kids, they're so sick," he
said. "They just want to get from one day to the next. They're
puking their guts out, they've got no hair, some of the kids have
scabs or burns from radiation. It's brutal. They just want to
live."
Asselstine knows the benefits of giving but
said he gets more than he could ever give to the kids he helps.
"These kids inspire me every day."
