John Kordic's Major Penalty
May, 2003
Courtesy of: On
The Wall
Story by: Patrick O'Sullivan
Jon Kordic's adult life was defined by
uncontrollable rage. His six years in the
NHL is a testament to his success as an
enforcer, and his four teams an indication
of his inability to keep his fury on the
ice. His career was composed almost entirely
of fights, suspensions, arrests, and squandered
second, third and fourth chances.
The public saw two sides of John Kordic
during his early NHL years. The angry, determined,
undersized enforcer who infamously challenged
and bested the biggest and strongest the
NHL could offer, and the consummate teammate
who gently joked with the children in the
dressing room, became a favorite of the
downtown revelers, and who mockingly kissed
his knuckles after yet another brutal but
victorious fight.
Surprisingly, with the Portland Junior
Hawks of the minor leagues, Kordic was considered
a skilled player, adept at passing, stick
handling and scoring. He led the team's
defensemen in points but suddenly developed
a penchant for fighting that was encouraged
by the coaching staff and fostered by pressure
to use steroids. The owner of the team,
Brian Shaw, had been accused of sexually
abusing the players and Kordic suggested,
years after the fact, that he'd been one
of the victims. A friend of Kordic's claimed
that Shaw told John that he was impressed
with what he'd seen on the ice but ëeven
more impressed with what he'd seen in the
shower.'
Kordic was drafted and called up on the
basis of his newfound violent tenacity and
it was what was expected of him when, in
1986, he played his first game with the
Montreal Canadians. Kordic viciously and
brutally fought and enforced and, due to
his brutal success at both, earned a two-year
contract with the big club in the big city.
Ivan Kordic, John's father, had supported
his son's desire to become a hockey player
but was vocally critical of his impressionable
son's violent style of play. It became commonplace
for the tough guy to be seen in his dressing
room stall crying after having spoken to
his father about his game. While he coped
with bigger fighters with the now regular
injections of steroids, he found the lavish
lifestyle, the Crescent street strip-joints,
and the heaps of cocaine muted the resonating
disapproval of his father. When he started
to miss practices and experiencing severe
drug-induced paranoia, the Canadians deemed
Kordic's increasing unreliability detrimental
to the team and, despite his popularity,
in 1988 traded him to the Maple Leafs in
exchange for Russ Courtnall.
Courtnall himself had been a popular finesse
player and the Leaf faithful weren't ready
to accept a bruiser in his stead. Kordic
tried as he could to become a favorite,
increasing his fighting and peppering his
play with fan-friendly mindless violence.
Fellow NHLer Dave Shand summed up Kordic's
time in Toronto as well as the opinion of
the league in saying ëhe may have been
the toughest guy in hockey, but totally
wacko. He'd spear you in the face for nothing.'
When his father died in 1991, Kordic's
guilt and dependence compounded into increased
erratic behavior both on the ice and off,
and, after being filmed cheering for the
opponent at a Leaf game, he was again written
off and traded to Washington.
Despite an effort to stay away from drugs,
Kordic was twice suspended for alcohol related
offences and was released from the Capitals
having played in only seven games in which
he earned 101 penalty minutes
The following season, the Quebec Nordiques
decided that they would take a chance on
what was still a young and promising player,
but protected themselves with a contract
that paid per game rather than per year,
and a clause that stipulate that Kordic
could be subjected to random drug tests
on twenty minutes notice. Despite initial
months of promise both in his game and in
his life, in January of 1992, Kordic failed
a drug test and was kicked off what would
be his last NHL team.
Seven months later, while playing with
the Edmonton Oilers Farm team in Quebec,
Kordic checked himself into the suburban
Maxim Motel. The police were called when
furniture was smashed against the wall and
screams were heard from within the room.
It took eight officers to hold the high
and violent Kordic down and two pairs of
handcuffs to keep his arms still. He was
put into an ambulance and, at 27 years old,
died of cardiac arrest on the way to the
hospital.
John Kordic, who squeezed an enforcer's
career worth of fights into six incomplete
years, who was routinely arrested for assault,
who, despite a comparatively diminutive
stature was the most feared man in a brutally
violent sport, didn't want to be remembered
as a thug. Ironically, he'll always be known
as the victim.
The half-Indian prairie boy was taken advantage
of wherever he went, constantly seeking
approval but finding only chemical comfort.
The NHL took a beating because of John Kordic,
but it wasn't by his hands. Shamefully,
every team that employed him was aware of
his drug dependence, and every team was
willing to turn a blind eye so long as the
dependence was of use to them. And when
Kordic became more of a liability than a
benefit, they simply traded the problem
away, forsaking the individual for whatever
he was sinking to.
And as much as hockey looks on Kordic's
life as a source of embarrassment and humiliation,
the spectators and the fans have equal reason
to feel guilt over his demise. The chants
of ëKordic, Kordic, Kordic' weren't
support or praise, they were a call to arms,
a demand for a fight, a promise for acceptance
that was never delivered. John Kordic died
during the prime years of his career and
well before the best years of his life.
And as Kordic sacrificed his head and his
body and as the frenzied crowd screamed
him on, it was the little man with the most
furious of eyes, the most determined of
attacks, and the most depleted and desperate
of souls who gave the beating of the moment,
but took the beating forever after.
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