Bob Clarke

We used to call him Bobby Clarke, but even in the Broad Street Bullies days of the 1970s, the man who may well be Philadelphia’s most beloved athlete ever would always sign his name “Bob Clarke”.

He came to Philadelphia in the Fall of 1969 from Flin Flon, Manitoba – a western Canadian copper mining town named after a dime novel hero, a town so far north it is the last frozen outpost of civilization before the North Pole. His buzz cut soon grew out into flowing blonde curls and every girl in Philadelphia fell in love with his sweet choirboy face. But his heart already belonged to his hometown honey Sandy, with whom he had been in love since his mid-teens, and to whom he is still married today.

On the ice, Clarkie was no choirboy. As a diabetic he was supposed to tire quickly, but instead he played his heart out – his arms and legs pumping non-stop, his hair flowing, his face always in a joyful toothless grimace, out-hustling every teammate and opponent during every single shift of every single game for 15 seasons. And woe to any opponent who stood between Clarke and victory in a close contest. Just ask Valeri Kharlamov (broken ankle), Bob Murray (knocked unconscious) or any number of goalies whom #16 tripped, slashed, knocked over or sat on right before the Flyers netted a critical goal in the game’s waning seconds. When the Flyers lost, as they did from time to time, especially in Clarke’s first few seasons, he would head to the locker room crying like a baby. That’s how badly he wanted to win.

“I hate those sons of bitches,” Clarke said of the Soviet Red Army Team before a classic 1976 showdown that the Flyers won convincingly. Opponents hated him too. He was on the receiving end of many a vicious cheap shot, but would keep skating even with blood gushing down his face. Asked if he would play against Clarke in an old-timers’ exhibition contest before the 1992 NHL All-Star Game, hockey legend Gordie Howe – then in his mid-60s – joked, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. It’s my last chance to get that SOB.”

But oh, how we loved Bobby Clarke. And oh, how his teammates loved him. At 23, Clarke became the youngest NHL team captain ever and may have been the most charismatic team captain in any sport ever. He was the #1 practical joker in the locker room and on the team bus, but he was also a loyal friend and an inspirational leader to his teammates on and off the ice, and to their families, and to members of the Flyers organization (to whom he would sometimes hand huge wads of vacation money out of his own pocket), and to the Philadelphia fans, and to the Philadelphia community. He gave of his time generously and humbly, never once seeking publicity for himself.

Although he never led the NHL in goals, points or raw talent, Clarke was named the league’s MVP three times in his career – a feat surpassed only by Eddie Shore, Gordie Howe and Wayne Gretzky. People understood. Supremely talented players come along maybe once or twice in a generation. But Clarke was something rarer still, a unique combination of talent, desire, grit, and charisma that you see once in a lifetime. If you’re lucky.

Some fans criticize Clarke’s record as GM, even though in his 17 full seasons at that position, the Flyers won 3 conference championships, finished first 8 times and had a losing record only once. With Clarke as GM, the Flyers won 100 games more than they won with Clarke as a player, and compiled a regular season win-loss percentage (.602) that’s better than the all-time win-loss percentage of any team in the NHL – even the vaunted Montreal Canadiens.

Unfortunately, none of this matters to the Clarke-bashers. For them, it’s win a Stanley Cup or nothing, and they’d sooner take Bonnie Lindros out to lunch for Mother’s Day than pay Bob Clarke a compliment. Good luck with the Mother’s Day lunch, morons. Let us know how it turns out.

Fortunately, the rest of us Philadelphians know a good cheese steak when we taste one, and a true winner when we see one. And in Bob Clarke, we saw one. The Kid from Flin Flon taught us all that with desire and hard work, anything is possible. He has shown us what it means to be a winner – as an athlete, as a general manager, and as a human being.

Philadelphia Flyers Official Website