The night was Dec. 30, 2007, so late it was nearly New Year’s Eve at that point.
Brian Burke fumed in his condo after his Anaheim Ducks lost to the Canucks in Vancouver, where his family still lived. And now his son, Brendan, wanted to talk.
It was 11:30 p.m. Could they do it in the morning? No, he couldn’t wait any longer.
Brendan was 19 at the time, a sophomore at Miami University of Ohio. He was a student manager and video coordinator for the men’s hockey team.
His dad was known as one of the toughest executives in the NHL, someone who a few years later would pen a guest column in USA Today making the case for fighting to remain in hockey.
And Brendan needed to let him know he was gay.
“I was the last one he told, so he wasn’t 100 percent comfortable. I’m a big, gruff guy. I get it,” Brian said. “What [ticked] me off is that I just wanted to go to bed.”
Leave it to Burke to drop a deadpanned line like that when discussing a defining moment of his life, the night he bear-hugged his son and a cause that would change hockey.
A 30-minute chat with him is rarely boring. And his tenure as the Penguins’ new president of hockey operations isn’t going to be, either.
Getting a late start in hockey. Growing up with nine siblings. Reading books on buses and riding a motorcycle. The origin of his admirable social activism. Burying a son. His vision for the Penguins. Whatever the topic, the 65-year-old American is without a doubt one of the most interesting men in the hockey world.
And he’s much more than the grouch you might have seen on TV.
Humble beginnings
Brian Burke’s incredible hockey life began in a hotel room in snowy Bloomington, Minn., a slap-shot away from where the Mall of America stands today.
Burke’s father, Bill, served in the Navy during World War II. He returned from war and was the valedictorian at Fordham University, his proud son said. Bill soon became a salesman for the Sunbeam appliances company, bouncing around the East Coast and Midwest before the family settled in the Minneapolis suburb of Edina.
“He kept getting promoted and having kids,” said Brian, one of 10.
Burke was 12 when his family moved to Minnesota from Boston. They drove through a blizzard to get there and holed up in a Bloomington hotel for three days. The Minnesota state high school hockey tournament was on television.
“I fell in love with the game,” said Burke, who had never played it before.
Born in 1955, Burke began organized hockey at age 13. Because he started so late in the ultra-competitive Minnesota youth scene, his goal was to skate for his high school team.
Determined to chase down his peers, he created four rules for himself. Never be out-worked. Be a coach’s dream. Be an invaluable teammate. Play tough.
Six years later, he was playing Division I hockey at Providence College, doing whatever coach Lou Lamoriello asked. He was named a captain in his senior year.
He signed on to play professional hockey and soon realized that not only did the other guys all follow the same four rules, they also had a lot more ability.
“A lot of people think I was a defenseman because my statistics were so poor,” he said, chuckling at himself. “But I was just actually a crappy right winger.”
He spent one season in the Philadelphia Flyers organization. For much of it, he lived in the gorgeous seaport town of Portland, Maine. He was mostly along for the ride as the Maine Mariners won the American Hockey League title in 1978. He was not in uniform the night they lifted the Calder Cup. But he had a blast.
“That year was a magical year for me,” Burke said. “I had trouble playing at that level. But the guys were fantastic. The coach did a great job. And I loved it.”
Among his fondest memories were the bus rides, all the boys aboard for the long haul down to Hampton, Va., or Hershey, Pa. But it’s probably not why you’d think.
“I think I read more books that year than I read in the next 10,” Burke said.
Education first
Bill and Joan Burke made it clear to their six girls and four boys that, even if they were standout athletes, education was the top priority in the household.
Nine of the kids earned degrees from colleges such as Stanford, Dartmouth and Wesley. After his playing career ended, Brian would become a Harvard man.
“At the start of hockey season, my dad would open the front hall closet. And he’d kick some boots out of the way so there was some space there,” Burke recalled. “And then he’d say, ‘This is where your skates go if your grades aren’t up.’”
Every night, one of the kids was tasked with bringing a new vocabulary word to the supper table. At 7 p.m., after the dishes were cleared, the kids all packed into the living room for the family reading hour. Joan, a registered nurse, took them to the library once a week to bring back “a mountain of books,” as Brian put it.
With 10 kids, there was always someone to talk to, read with or challenge to board games. The Burkes didn’t have much money. Brian went through much of his early years wearing hand-me-downs from his two big brothers. Still, Joan was the kind of woman who tried to find the good in everything and everyone.
“They’d show a convicted murderer on TV and say he killed six people in cold blood,” Brian said. “And my mom would say, ‘I bet he had a tough childhood.’”
She pushed the kids to give back to those who were less fortunate and Bill had her back. Brian taught reading to underprivileged city kids and participated in food drives. He said he has lost count of how many gallons of blood he’s donated.
Once he became a father, Burke shared that mandate with his six children.
Brian’s daughters Katie and Molly are executives at two large corporations in Boston. Son Patrick works for the NHL’s Department of Player Safety. And he has two teenage daughters.
“If you’re ever in a position to help other people, then you have an obligation to do that,” Burke said. “My kids also understand that this family gives back.”
Love over everything
Brendan Burke was always a big kid. He stood 6-foot-4 and was two inches taller than his dad, who nicknamed him “Moose.” He was a kind, sweet soul.
“I don’t think he’d ever been in a fistfight,” Brian recalled. “Unlike his dad.”
Brian has accomplished a lot in his 65 years, including a Stanley Cup win. But not many moments made him prouder than the call he received from Father Doyle.
After the DJ started spinning at an eighth-grade school dance, Brendan spotted a dejected classmate across the room and invited her to dance. After he pulled another wallflower out onto the floor, his buddies started making fun of him.
“He said, ‘If I don’t dance with that girl, then who else is going to?’ The next thing you know, they were all doing it. Everybody was dancing with everybody,” Brian beamed. “Father Doyle looked me up and told him how special he was.”
So why would Brendan being gay suddenly change how Brian saw his son? It wouldn’t.
“I told him, ‘You’ve given us a million reasons to love you and this doesn’t change one of them.’ I don’t think that was heroic or deserve any praise for that,” Brian said. “That’s what every parent should do when their kid says, ‘I’m gay.’”
In November 2009, Brendan came out publicly in an award-winning ESPN story. The outpouring of support he received from the public, including letters and emails from hundreds of gay athletes across North America, was overwhelming.
Three months later, on Feb. 5, 2010, Brendan died instantly when the Jeep he was driving in a snowstorm spun out of control and collided with a Ford F-150 near Economy, Ind.
“I sat the family down after the funeral and said, ‘Look, we can either hang our heads or we can keep marching,’” Brian said. “‘I am marching ahead and you are, too. And we’re going to make sure Brendan’s memory is never forgotten.”
In March of 2012, Brian and son Patrick introduced the You Can Play Project.
“The message is if you can play, you can play on our team,” Brian said. “We don’t care if you’re gay. We don’t care who you go home with. We don’t care what color your skin is. We don’t care what church you go to on Sunday or Saturday.”
He said the goal was keeping gay men in team sports “because the homophobic nature of the dressing room drives a lot of kids away.” That included Brendan, who at 16 quit his high school team because he was sick of hearing homophobic slurs get tossed around their dressing room.
Brian estimated that You Can Play has kept hundreds of kids, maybe more, in team sports, while also enacting needed change at the highest levels of hockey. But the message has become much broader, encouraging inclusivity in all sports.
He acknowledges that sports fans seeing Brian Burke, the brash NHL executive, serve as the marshal at gay pride parades helped expand the program’s reach.
“A lot of right-wing people would think I was on their side of the fence. I mean, I used to drive a pickup truck and a Harley. I chewed tobacco. I like fighting in hockey. I’m not afraid of a fight myself,” he said. “I think there is impact in me supporting this cause. I hope there is. But we need everyone to pick up this flag. Not just me.”
Go big or go home
After winning the Calder Cup in 1978, Burke had to pick a path. He could either go to law school or give up his spot and try to make it as a pro hockey player.
Burke, who piled up 60 penalty minutes in 65 games but scored just three goals, consulted with his old coach, Lamoriello, and Flyers general manager Keith Allen.
“Mr. Allen said, ‘Look, I don’t think you’re going to make it,’” Burke recalled.
He graduated from Harvard Law School in 1981 then practiced law in Boston for six years. By the end, he was almost exclusively representing athletes.
In 1987, the legendary Pat Quinn, president and general manager in Vancouver, offered him the assistant GM job. The next three decades were enough to fill a book, something he did last year.
He was there when the Canucks picked Russian star Pavel Bure. He ran the Hartford Whalers for a year. He was NHL commissioner Gary Bettman’s discipline czar. He won a Cup in Anaheim in 2007, with superstar defensemen Scott Niedermayer and Chris Pronger leading the way. In his second stint in Vancouver, he boldly drafted the Sweden’s Sedin twins, Henrik and Daniel.
More recently, Burke was unable to elevate the Toronto Maple Leafs and Calgary Flames in front-office roles, though he’s certainly not alone in that regard.
After three years in Toronto working as an analyst for Sportsnet, Burke couldn’t say no a few days ago to Penguins owner Mario Lemieux, and president and CEO David Morehouse. Now, new general manager Ron Hextall and he are tasked with pushing Sidney Crosby and the Penguins back into Cup contention.
Historically, Burke’s teams have been big and tough, especially on the blue line. Good goaltending is a must. But asked to describe his overarching team-building philosophy, he referenced advice he got as a rookie GM from the late, great Bill Torrey. Essentially, build teams capable of winning a few different ways.
“He said, ‘You have to win four [playoff] series. You have to beat four teams,’” he said, adding, “There are four things you need. Be big enough. Be fast enough. Be skilled enough for special teams. And then just pray and hope it works.”
Expect the Penguins to try to beef up a bit in the near future.
“The last three Stanley Cups were won by big teams. And my teams have always been big. I’d rather beat a team up then get beat up. I’m pretty sure Hexy shares my view, based on how he’s drafted,” Burke said. “If you have two teams that are equal in skill and one team is bigger, the bigger team is going to win.”
Lifting the Stanley Cup again in Pittsburgh would solidify his status as one of the better builders in NHL history, maybe even nudge him up to the doorstep of the Hockey Hall of Fame. But Burke hopes his legacy will be bigger than that.
He often poses this hypothetical to his kids: What will people say about you at your funeral? It won’t be how big of a house you had or how long your boat was.
“They’re going to talk about whether you were a good dad, a good brother, a good sister, a good wife,” Burke will remind them. “Did you care about people? Did you give back to the community? That’s what they’re going to talk about.”
He plans to challenge his new players in Pittsburgh to think the same way.
“You’re going to make a difference. You’re a Pittsburgh Penguin. People know who you are. You will give back here,” Burke said. “The good news is I don’t have to adjust the thinking here. This is the way the Penguins have always been.”
Matt Vensel: mvensel@post-gazette.com and Twitter @mattvensel.
First Published: February 12, 2021, 2:04 p.m.
