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‘He’s our guardian angel’: How retiring NHL linesman Pierre Racicot honors his fallen friend

ThorneStockton

HR Legend
Oct 2, 2009
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I'm not much of a NHL fan, certainly not enough to remember any officials, but I thought this was a great story regardless and that some might enjoy it too.


Pierre Racicot and Stephane Provost began a ritual on May 11, 1999, when Provost’s first daughter, Ashley, was born.

Racicot showed up at the Weston, Fla., hospital with a cooler of beer and the best friends and on-ice partners shared lots of laughs, talked excitedly about the future and toasted fatherhood as they anxiously awaited Ashley’s arrival.

Six months later, when Racicot’s son was ready to arrive, Provost dropped by the hospital with a cooler of beer. The 32-year-old NHL linesmen yukked it up over a couple of cold ones as they waited for Harrison to be born.

Five years later, when Provost’s wife, Sandra, was in labor with the couple’s second daughter, Reily, the tradition continued.

“The nurses looked at us and go, ‘OK, you guys, what’s this all about? Who brings beer to a hospital?’” Racicot recalls with a hearty laugh. “But that was our ritual. The doctor would come in and go, ‘OK, it’s time.’ I’d say, ‘All right, I’ll be outside.’ And Steph would say, ‘I’ll see you in a few minutes.’

“My God,” Racicot says, “Ashley and Reily … they were Daddy’s girls.”

That’s why, from the moment Racicot received the horrifying phone call in the early-morning hours of April 22, 2005, he made it his life’s work to ensure that his best friend’s proudest achievements would always be taken care of.

“He’s our guardian angel,” Ashley says. “Pierre’s honestly like our second dad.”

It’s been 16 years since Provost died in a motorcycle accident just a mile from his home. Saturday night, before the Tampa Bay Lightning-Florida Panthers game at BB&T Center in Sunrise, Racicot will join fellow NHL linesman Jonny Murray and referees Kelly Sutherland and Frederick L’Ecuyer at the center-ice faceoff dot just after the national anthem to perform the same pregame ritual that officials have done before every NHL game since.

They’ll tap their left arms. They’ll tap the NHL crest over their hearts. They’ll squeeze their fists together.

And, together, they’ll say, “Steph.”

Alone with his thoughts and for the final time as an NHL official, Racicot will then skate away and touch the patch on his shoulder where his best friend’s No. 72 used to be, then point to the sky.

“It’s always been my way of saying, ‘OK, Steph. You’re still here with me,’” Racicot says. “I think of Steph every day. And I thank him every day for being who I am today because he made me a way better person. He knew how to laugh, how to have fun. He took a big bite out of life.”

Racicot’s last game fittingly comes inside an arena that’s 15 minutes from the front door of his house and where he used to work many Panthers home games alongside his best friend, the bubbly, laugh-out-loud funny, fellow French Canadian.

In Val-d’Or, Quebec, where Sandra, Ashley and Reily Provost moved three years after Stephane’s death, the TV will be tuned into Racicot’s final game.

“We have friends here that text us every time, ‘Oh my God, did you see who’s the (linesman) tonight?’” Ashley Provost says. “My grandpa (Phil) is obsessed with hockey and he will always watch the games that Pierre is in. We love telling everybody, ‘Hey, we know him. He’s family to us. … He’s putting my sister and me through university.’”

When Racicot steps on the ice Saturday night, it’ll be his 1,880th regular-season game. That ranks 12th all-time among NHL linesmen, in spite of his losing a bunch of games because of three NHL lockouts and two shortened seasons due to the COVID-19 pandemic.

He has officiated 254 playoff games and is tied for 10th all-time with 10 Stanley Cup Finals appearances. He worked the 2004 and 2016 World Cup of Hockey, the 2006 Winter Olympics in Turin, Italy, the 2009 All-Star Game in his hometown of Montreal and two outdoor games, including the 2012 Winter Classic between the New York Rangers and Flyers at Citizens Bank Park in Philadelphia.

Ask fellow officials about Racicot, and they’ll call him “the happiest man in hockey” and “the chairman of the fun committee.”

“He is so revved up for just going and doing the game,” says former referee Brad Watson, now an NHL officiating manager. “We got to work a lot of playoff games together. We worked multiple finals, and he’s the type of guy that wanted every series to go Game 7. He doesn’t want it to go 4. He wants the challenge and the excitement of working every game when it most matters. And he brought that into the dressing room and he brought that on the ice.

“He always has a big smile. It’s infectious. In fact, that was Steph to a T, too.”

That helps explain how Provost, a former firefighter, and Racicot, a former criminal psychologist in the Quebec prison system, became brothers in arms.

Back in the mid- to late-1990s and early 2000s, NHL linesmen often were paired together, so if the 6-foot-6 Racicot was assigned to a game, his buddy Provost would often be his sidekick.

They were the same age. They were both from Montreal. They were hired by the NHL a year apart, Racicot in 1993, Provost in 1994.

When the NHL was looking for officials to move to different parts of North America to make travel simpler, Racicot moved to South Florida in 1996. Provost followed a year later.

Racicot and Provost lived a mile apart. If they were assigned the same game, they’d travel together, whether it was car-pooling to Miami Arena or just around the corner from their Weston homes when the Panthers built their new barn in Sunrise, to Fort Lauderdale airport to catch a flight.

But it was during their 250-mile car rides across Alligator Alley on the way to Tampa where their friendship blossomed. They’d laugh and laugh and laugh.

“We would just talk about anything and everything,” Racicot says. “He taught me how to live life with a smile on my face. He was a big kid at heart.”

Provost became “Uncle Steph” to Harrison, now 21. Racicot and his wife, Kathy, who’s a fashion designer, became Reily’s godparents.

“Steph was such a fun human being, and an exceptional linesman,” Racicot says of his friend, who worked 695 games. “Right now, we hire a lot of ex-players that transition into officiating. Steph played major junior hockey. He played in the (Quebec League). He went to the Canadiens training camp, and we didn’t really have guys that played super high-level hockey back then. And he just loved everything about our job. He loved breaking up fights. We both did, and in the ’90s, there were a lot of them.”
 
Provost’s death happened during the NHL lockout of 2004-05. And while Racicot was heartbroken, he also was motivated to make a difference in the lives of his friend’s daughters. “Pierre took charge,” Watson says, and started a fund to provide college scholarships for the two girls, who were almost 6 and 10 months old when their father died.

There was no GoFundMe back then, so Racicot sought donations.

When the lockout ended, Provost’s 80-member brotherhood arrived in Collingwood, Ontario, just north of Toronto, for training camp in the fall of 2005. The refs and linesmen wondered what they could do to honor Provost’s memory and create a legacy for future officials while supporting the two girls.

“One guy said, ‘Why don’t we play cards?’” Racicot says. “It was perfect. Steph loved cards, and that’s how it started. But I never thought it would evolve into what it has.”

It’s considered the most fun night of every NHL Officials Association training camp, which used to take place in Toronto and now occurs in Buffalo, N.Y., before each season. And they’ve raised enough money to send both of Provost’s daughters to four years of university and they’ve expanded their giving to others, as well.

Not every official plays. But the group gets 100 percent participation in terms of $50 buy-ins. Refs and linesmen, vice president of officiating Stephen Walkom and his officiating manager crew and NHL senior staffers from the NHL’s Department of Player Safety in New York and Situation Room in Toronto take part in the evening and can re-buy as many times as they want. Some guys will buy-in six, seven, eight times, and that money adds up quickly.

The NHL provides all the food and drinks, and there are prizes. Racicot has even made silver World Series bracelets for the winners.

Most special, before the night begins, they play a highlight video of Provost’s career, and Racicot asks Provost’s daughters to update the officials on where they’re at in their lives. Ashley and Reily then wish the officials well for a great hockey season.

Ashley, who turns 22 on Tuesday, attended University of Ottawa for two years, then transferred to Université du Québec en Abitibi-Témiscamingue (UQAT) in Rouyn-Noranda, where she has one semester left. Because of a shortage of teachers in the area, she has already started her career as an English teacher. Her mom is also a teacher.

Reily, now 16, is starting to think about where to go to college.

“We are so grateful,” Ashley says. “Our mom was alone. At my age right now, I look back and I can’t imagine how stressful it was for her to lose our dad and how hard it must have been to think of a future for you and your daughters when you’re by yourself now. It makes me emotional to think about. For Pierre to devote the rest of his career to making sure she had enough for her daughters, it shows what type of heart he has. I feel like it lifted a huge weight off my mom’s shoulders.”

Watson gets emotional when he sees the video every year. “What Pierre spearheaded, having that poker night and rallying around those girls, I mean, they’re like our little kids. We’ve watched them grow up.”

In 2018, when former referee Mick McGeough, who was working as an officiating manager for the league at the time, died unexpectedly, Racicot’s first thought was to call Watson and say, “Listen, we’ve got to take care of Mick’s family. That’s the kind of guy Pierre is — he just cares about other people.”

Now, in addition to the Provost girls, proceeds from the poker night also go to help with the education of two of McGeough’s five children — 19-year-old, Isaac, a business major, and 22-year-old, Karlie, a journalism major, who both attend University of Regina.

“We are truly grateful for all of the help the NHL Officials Association has done for us and our family,” Karlie McGeough says. “They continue to reach out to check in and keep our dad’s legacy alive, and it just goes to show he obviously had a huge impact on a lot of people. The officials’ team is a tight-knit group and look out for one another in any way they can and that is a special bond to have.”

That’s Racicot’s biggest source of pride about the event. They’re keeping Provost’s and McGeough’s memories alive within their group.

“This has become an unbelievable team-building activity,” Racicot says. “That’s what the NHL and (Walkom) recognized right away. This is not just a charity event. The byproduct of the event beyond raising money for the girls, which is fantastic, is that Steph’s legacy is bringing us together and allowing us to have a laugh and a really good time.

“It’s amazing the amount of money that we raised just within our group. But trust me, if Steph knew we were doing this just to raise money, he wouldn’t have it. This night is pure Steph. He would have absolutely loved this night. It’s a grand old time that goes deep into the night.”

Racicot suddenly pauses.

“I’ve had first-year guys, guys that never got to meet Steph, with tears in their eyes that come up to me and say, ‘I have no idea who this guy is — like no clue, but this is the best night of my hockey career. I’ve never been part of anything cool like this.’ Steph would love that.”

This is a night for the NHL officials. With one exception: MLB umpire Alfonso Marquez.

Marquez, the first Mexican-born umpire and Latino crew chief in MLB history, also wears No. 72, Provost’s number. He has carried Provost’s death with him for 16 years, since the night he and his own best friend, fellow MLB ump and now-crew chief Ted Barrett, hung out with Provost at the Hard Rock Hotel & Casino in Hollywood, Fla., not long after they had worked the New York Mets-Florida Marlins game in nearby Miami Gardens.

“He made everything fun. Just everything,” Marquez says. “And I’ll tell you what, Steph loved Pierre. It was a true friendship, a true relationship.”

Marquez’s connection to Provost started in April 2002, three years before Provost’s death.

Marquez was in Montreal getting set to work an Expos-St. Louis Cardinals series when he attended a Canadiens-Bruins playoff game at the Bell Centre. After the game, Marquez had a pass to get downstairs and asked security if he could meet the officials. When he walked into the room, he hit it off right away with referees Dave Jackson and Don Koharski and linesmen Jean Morin and Steve Miller.

Marquez told Jackson, “Man, I would love to have one of your sweaters with my number on it. Maybe we can swap jackets,’” Marquez says, laughing at the memory. “And they said, ‘Stephane Provost wears (72), and Steph would love that.’”

Later that year, Provost was in Phoenix for a Coyotes game when Marquez, who lives in Arizona in the offseason, was in town. They met up, exchanged No. 72 uniforms and became instant pals.

“We had so many things in common,” Marquez said. “We were immigrants in this country. We love motorcycles. We had that best friend that’s like our brother, him and Pierre, me and Teddy. We had our children, I just … I fell in love with the man because he was just, he was just awesome.”

Marquez suddenly chuckled.

“You know how you hear guys say, ‘He’s the type of guy that’ll give you the shirt off his back?’ Well, Steph literally did. I said, ‘Man, that’s a nice shirt you’re wearing, Steph. Where’d you get that? I’d like to get one of those?’ He goes, ‘You don’t have to. Here. Just take this one,’ and he took his shirt off!”

A few years after they met and became friends, Marquez was the home-plate umpire for a Mets-Marlins game in Florida, with Barrett at third base. After the game, Provost jumped on his 2003 Harley-Davidson and rode to meet up with his pals at the Hard Rock. Marquez actually had the same model Harley, so Provost threw him the keys so he could take a spin. Ten minutes later, Marquez returned and the friends went inside the hotel to hang out.

Later that night, just after 3 a.m., Provost was killed a mile from his home when he drove his motorcycle into the rear of a tractor-trailer that was stopped at an intersection off State Road 84.

The next morning, unaware of what had happened, the four umpires drove to Tampa for another baseball game. When Marquez arrived, NHL linesman Andy McElman called to tell him that Provost had been killed.

“I thought he was joking,” Marquez says. “I mean, I’m thinking this is a cruel joke, but give me the punchline already. I said, ‘You’re kidding, right?’ And he goes, ‘No, I wish I was.’ I said, ‘Andy, I was with him last night.’ He didn’t know.”

That night, Marquez was the third-base umpire during the Tampa Bay Devil Rays-Boston Red Sox game; Barrett manned second base.

“Yeah, very, very tough,” Marquez says, somberly. “Teddy and I don’t even remember working that game in Tampa. We couldn’t stop crying during the game — from the first inning to the ninth, just crying. I just couldn’t believe it. Teddy and I wore it for a long time. You’re always thinking, ‘Could’ve, would’ve, should’ve,’ you know, all that crap. Yeah … not easy.”

Every single game since, Marquez has carried Provost’s No. 72 sweater in his equipment trunk. When Marquez gets to the ballpark, the clubhouse attendants know to hang Provost’s jersey in his locker.

“It’s just my way of honoring his memory and his legacy,” Marquez says.

Racicot and all the friends Marquez has made in the NHL Officials Association have done their best over the years to alleviate any sort of guilt he may have carried.

For years, they tried to get him to attend their poker night, but because it occurs during the baseball season, it just never worked out.

But a few years back, Marquez had an off-day after working a game in Cincinnati before heading to Boston.

“I said, ‘Let’s do this,’ got to Buffalo and spent the entire day with them,” Marquez says. “It was awesome to finally be a part of this so many years later.”
 
Of all the games Racicot has officiated, there’s one memory that stands out.

Racicot grew up with Marc Joannette, an NHL ref who debuted in 1998. They’re from the same Verdun, Quebec, neighborhood, in downtown Montreal. Racicot lived on Fifth Avenue, Joannette on Sixth. They started officiating together doing squirt games. The only difference is Joannette, 52, is a year younger.

In 2008, during the first of two consecutive Pittsburgh Penguins-Detroit Red Wings Stanley Cup Finals they worked together, right before the opening puck drop, Racicot and Joannette made eye contact and were thinking the exact same thing.

“Damn, we’ve come a long way from working peewee hockey,” Racicot says, laughing. “It’s so awesome to be able to share that with your buddy. I mean, honestly, what a job, what a life we have. At our poker night, when I look at all those pictures of Steph, you can see in his highlights just how much he absolutely loved this sport and this job.

“That’s what I tell our guys. I say, ‘Just cherish the moment, enjoy this game. Enjoy every moment of this game.’ It’s fun. Enjoy who you’re working with. Enjoy these incredible athletes that we get to be on the ice with. Enjoy the fact that we get to serve this incredible game. It’s a privilege.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know you had a bad travel day and you’re tired and you’re achy. Come on, let’s go. Look at what we get to do.

“And that was Steph, man. He just loved it. It makes me happy thinking about that.”

Racicot isn’t despairing that he won’t be on the ice with his good pal Joannette for his final game. Joannette is stationed north of the border this season because of the pandemic. And he’s not weighed down that his second family, the Provosts, can’t leave northern Quebec and attend.

“I had my party,” Racicot said, referring to his 1,500th game where he worked with Joannette, Jackson and linesman Michel Cormier and got to take a celebratory picture on the ice with the three other officials, Walkom, his wife, son, father, Andre, and two fairly decent hockey players — Jaromir Jagr and Steven Stamkos.




That milestone game took place on Jan. 23, 2016, between the same two teams in the same arena as Saturday’s final game. The Provosts attended that incredible evening, too.

“Pierre’s always been there for us through ups and downs,” Ashley Provost says. “He includes us in everything in his life, so we’ll be watching, and we’ll be grateful that we’ve been part of his life.”

Racicot has no idea what he’ll be feeling Saturday night.

“But I’m actually very excited about the future,” he says. “I promised myself two things: I wasn’t going to retire bitter, because I’ve seen it, and I wasn’t going to stay a year longer than I should have. The game is young, the game is fast, and this game has given me so many good opportunities. I don’t want to do it a disservice by sticking around and having everyone watching on TV going, ‘What is that? That guy can’t even move, can’t keep up.’

“I love the job so much. I love everything about being on the ice with these guys. I love being on the road. I love everything about it. I’m passionate about this job, so I will miss that, for sure. But this is just the reality of life. The only thing I will promise you: Steph will be on my mind (Saturday night).”

Watson will be the officiating manager during Saturday’s Carolina Hurricanes game at Nashville, but he will have the Panthers game on his laptop.

And Provost will be on his mind, too.

“Steph was 37 when he died. He would’ve been retiring about the same time — probably on this very same night in this very same game,” Watson says, his eyes red and wet. “So, they would’ve been blending their careers. They would have been kind of mirroring each other because Steph was good, and Pierre’s one of the best.

“I think part of Pierre retiring is Stephane’s career is now complete. Because I think Pierre’s carried that accident and the loss of his best friend through his whole career.

“They were true brothers – on and off the ice.”
 
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