Hall of Fame linesman D'Amico dies
Canadian Press
5/30/2005 11:27:20 AM
TORONTO (CP) - NHL referees and linesmen are gathering to pay last respects
to John D'Amico, who inspired each and every one of them to be the best they
could possibly be.
It's a tight fraternity, and none among them was more revered than was
D'Amico. Afflicted with leukemia and bone cancer, he died Sunday night at
the age of 67.
He's being remembered far and wide.
"John became like a father to me," says Pat Dapuzzo, 46, who was assigned
when he broke into the league in 1984 to room with the then-veteran linesman
so he could learn a thing or two. "He loved me very much.
"He took care of me."
Dapuzzo's son, Anthony, 11, is bringing the linesmen's sweater given to him
by D'Amico, his godfather, and will wear it to the service.
D'Amico had an outstanding 23-year career on the ice. He was so good that he
was picked for the Stanley Cup final every year, and he worked many an
international contest.
"Most times you watch the sports classics TV and it's a big game, you always
see John out there," says Dapuzzo.
D'Amico moved into the front office as a supervisor of officials in 1987,
and he was inducted into the Hockey Hall of Fame in 1993.
"I had the Wayne Gretzky of linesmen as my teammate," says Dapuzzo. "I knew
how fortunate I was."
Dorothy D'Amico, who lives in nearby Mississauga, often called her husband
David, so Dapuzzo started referring to him as John David, and still does.
"How some young punk from Hoboken got to the NHL and survived, the only
reason it happened was because I was fortunate enough to be on a line with
John David," says Dapuzzo. "That's how it all happened."
Outside of work, and his devotion to his family, D'Amico spent countless
hours in charitable endeavours.
"Everybody thought John David was this big tough guy but he had another side
of him," says Dapuzzo.
Angelo D'Amico, who turned 31 Sunday, has followed his dad into the NHL
officiating fraternity. Other children are sons Jeff and Anthony and
daughter Tina.
If Angelo is one-half as serious about his job as was his dad, he'll be a
piece of work.
"Words couldn't even tell you," Dapuzzo says when asked to describe his
mentor's work ethic. "His passion for the game - he was so serious."
D'Amico would silently sit in the locker-room for at least an hour without
speaking before games. He'd lay his equipment on the floor and if anybody
touched it he'd get angry.
"He'd say, `If I have a bad game tonight you guys will pay for it,"' says
Dapuzzo.
D'Amico would take three strips of black tape - one for each period - that
were six to eight inches long and stick them on a chair. Before he went onto
the ice, he'd take one strip of black tape so he could chew on it during
play.
There is a photo of D'Amico, blood flowing from a gash on the left side of
his face near the eye, taken during a Montreal-Quebec game in 1987.
Intensity screams from his eyes. He'd been clipped by a high stick but he
continued to work while play went on.
Other times, he'd fearlessly step between brawny behemoths throwing punches.
When they saw it was D'Amico interceding, they'd behave.
"He was one tough guy," says Dapuzzo.
During his days as a supervisor, D'Amico was a coach to the officials.
"John David made us into athletes," says Dapuzzo. "He made us understand how
important we were out there.
"He expected us to go out there with the same desire and intensity he had
and to perform under any conditions."
When D'Amico showed up for a game, the referees and linesmen knew coaches
and players would show them extra respect because D'Amico was in the
building. The intensity would heighten for them as well because they knew
D'Amico would be watching, so they'd want to produce their best effort.
Last week, Dapuzzo slept in a chair in D'Amico's Princess Margaret Hospital
room.
"It made him feel better knowing somebody was in the room at night. When I
had to go home, I told him I'd be back with Anthony and to hang in there. We
were coming Monday."
And so they did, for a reason they hadn't expected this soon.
"I guess it was time," Dapuzzo says of D'Amico's death. "The next couple of
days are going to be tough."<
When the memories flood back, he recalls his very first night rooming with
D'Amico, who'd insisted Dapuzzo turn in by 8 p.m. because they had an early
wakeup.
"I said goodnight and all he said was goodnight and the light went out. Five
minutes later, he turned the light back on and he said, `I'm going to tell
you something, son. If I love you, I'll give you my heart. But if you cross
me, you'd better look out."'
Dapuzzo never crossed D'Amico. Few did.
Referee Dan Marouelli, 49, says his most vivid recollections of D'Amico are
"his dedication to the sport, his fellow officials, and to his family."
"He had a work ethic that was something that I admired more than anything,"
says Marouelli. "He taught me that you get out of it what you put into it."
Marouelli learned the lesson well, and D'Amico could see as much. In a
letter posted in December 2002, a few months after D'Amico suffered a heart
attack that required a bypass, he congratulated Marouelli on becoming one of
the best in the business, and he reminded him to cherish the things that
matter most - his health and his family - and to remember always to enjoy
his time on the ice.
"It's something I'll cherish for the rest of my life," Marouelli says of the
letter. "I'll never forget those words.
"He was like a father to me. I worked with him on the ice and when he became
a supervisor he truly had the best interests of his people at heart. He
wanted you to become a better person and not just a better official."
Once when he broke a wrist, circa 1983, D'Amico paid a visit to
then-supervisor of officials Scotty Morrison to demand he be allowed to
return to work. Morrison had a big oak desk and, attempting to show the boss
his arm was fine, D'Amico lifted the desk. He reinjured the arm.
"He was old school but in a good way," says Marouelli. "He was special.
"He was like the Rocky Balboa of our staff. I say that in the most
affectionate way."
Don Van Massenhoven, 44, past executive board member on the NHL Officials'
Association, had D'Amico as a boss and describes him as "a strong man with a
big, big heart."
"He cared so much about the guys he was teaching. He really wanted you to
succeed and would help you any way he could. He'd tell us to be positive and
always give it our best but to enjoy it, savour the moment.
"He'd say there were three teams out there. We were the third team. `Work
with your teammates and support them.'
"He was a consummate professional. He was an unbelievable man - very
well-respected, kind of a living legend."
D'Amico worked as recently as last year in the NHL's war room in Toronto
studying games in progress.
"A true testament to John's legacy is the respect that players, general
managers, coaches, fellow officials and fans had for him," said NHL
executive vice-president Jim Gregory. "We extend our deepest sympathies to
Dorothy, his children and grandchildren."
Cheers,
Aquaman
Canadian Press
5/30/2005 11:27:20 AM
TORONTO (CP) - NHL referees and linesmen are gathering to pay last respects
to John D'Amico, who inspired each and every one of them to be the best they
could possibly be.
It's a tight fraternity, and none among them was more revered than was
D'Amico. Afflicted with leukemia and bone cancer, he died Sunday night at
the age of 67.
He's being remembered far and wide.
"John became like a father to me," says Pat Dapuzzo, 46, who was assigned
when he broke into the league in 1984 to room with the then-veteran linesman
so he could learn a thing or two. "He loved me very much.
"He took care of me."
Dapuzzo's son, Anthony, 11, is bringing the linesmen's sweater given to him
by D'Amico, his godfather, and will wear it to the service.
D'Amico had an outstanding 23-year career on the ice. He was so good that he
was picked for the Stanley Cup final every year, and he worked many an
international contest.
"Most times you watch the sports classics TV and it's a big game, you always
see John out there," says Dapuzzo.
D'Amico moved into the front office as a supervisor of officials in 1987,
and he was inducted into the Hockey Hall of Fame in 1993.
"I had the Wayne Gretzky of linesmen as my teammate," says Dapuzzo. "I knew
how fortunate I was."
Dorothy D'Amico, who lives in nearby Mississauga, often called her husband
David, so Dapuzzo started referring to him as John David, and still does.
"How some young punk from Hoboken got to the NHL and survived, the only
reason it happened was because I was fortunate enough to be on a line with
John David," says Dapuzzo. "That's how it all happened."
Outside of work, and his devotion to his family, D'Amico spent countless
hours in charitable endeavours.
"Everybody thought John David was this big tough guy but he had another side
of him," says Dapuzzo.
Angelo D'Amico, who turned 31 Sunday, has followed his dad into the NHL
officiating fraternity. Other children are sons Jeff and Anthony and
daughter Tina.
If Angelo is one-half as serious about his job as was his dad, he'll be a
piece of work.
"Words couldn't even tell you," Dapuzzo says when asked to describe his
mentor's work ethic. "His passion for the game - he was so serious."
D'Amico would silently sit in the locker-room for at least an hour without
speaking before games. He'd lay his equipment on the floor and if anybody
touched it he'd get angry.
"He'd say, `If I have a bad game tonight you guys will pay for it,"' says
Dapuzzo.
D'Amico would take three strips of black tape - one for each period - that
were six to eight inches long and stick them on a chair. Before he went onto
the ice, he'd take one strip of black tape so he could chew on it during
play.
There is a photo of D'Amico, blood flowing from a gash on the left side of
his face near the eye, taken during a Montreal-Quebec game in 1987.
Intensity screams from his eyes. He'd been clipped by a high stick but he
continued to work while play went on.
Other times, he'd fearlessly step between brawny behemoths throwing punches.
When they saw it was D'Amico interceding, they'd behave.
"He was one tough guy," says Dapuzzo.
During his days as a supervisor, D'Amico was a coach to the officials.
"John David made us into athletes," says Dapuzzo. "He made us understand how
important we were out there.
"He expected us to go out there with the same desire and intensity he had
and to perform under any conditions."
When D'Amico showed up for a game, the referees and linesmen knew coaches
and players would show them extra respect because D'Amico was in the
building. The intensity would heighten for them as well because they knew
D'Amico would be watching, so they'd want to produce their best effort.
Last week, Dapuzzo slept in a chair in D'Amico's Princess Margaret Hospital
room.
"It made him feel better knowing somebody was in the room at night. When I
had to go home, I told him I'd be back with Anthony and to hang in there. We
were coming Monday."
And so they did, for a reason they hadn't expected this soon.
"I guess it was time," Dapuzzo says of D'Amico's death. "The next couple of
days are going to be tough."<
When the memories flood back, he recalls his very first night rooming with
D'Amico, who'd insisted Dapuzzo turn in by 8 p.m. because they had an early
wakeup.
"I said goodnight and all he said was goodnight and the light went out. Five
minutes later, he turned the light back on and he said, `I'm going to tell
you something, son. If I love you, I'll give you my heart. But if you cross
me, you'd better look out."'
Dapuzzo never crossed D'Amico. Few did.
Referee Dan Marouelli, 49, says his most vivid recollections of D'Amico are
"his dedication to the sport, his fellow officials, and to his family."
"He had a work ethic that was something that I admired more than anything,"
says Marouelli. "He taught me that you get out of it what you put into it."
Marouelli learned the lesson well, and D'Amico could see as much. In a
letter posted in December 2002, a few months after D'Amico suffered a heart
attack that required a bypass, he congratulated Marouelli on becoming one of
the best in the business, and he reminded him to cherish the things that
matter most - his health and his family - and to remember always to enjoy
his time on the ice.
"It's something I'll cherish for the rest of my life," Marouelli says of the
letter. "I'll never forget those words.
"He was like a father to me. I worked with him on the ice and when he became
a supervisor he truly had the best interests of his people at heart. He
wanted you to become a better person and not just a better official."
Once when he broke a wrist, circa 1983, D'Amico paid a visit to
then-supervisor of officials Scotty Morrison to demand he be allowed to
return to work. Morrison had a big oak desk and, attempting to show the boss
his arm was fine, D'Amico lifted the desk. He reinjured the arm.
"He was old school but in a good way," says Marouelli. "He was special.
"He was like the Rocky Balboa of our staff. I say that in the most
affectionate way."
Don Van Massenhoven, 44, past executive board member on the NHL Officials'
Association, had D'Amico as a boss and describes him as "a strong man with a
big, big heart."
"He cared so much about the guys he was teaching. He really wanted you to
succeed and would help you any way he could. He'd tell us to be positive and
always give it our best but to enjoy it, savour the moment.
"He'd say there were three teams out there. We were the third team. `Work
with your teammates and support them.'
"He was a consummate professional. He was an unbelievable man - very
well-respected, kind of a living legend."
D'Amico worked as recently as last year in the NHL's war room in Toronto
studying games in progress.
"A true testament to John's legacy is the respect that players, general
managers, coaches, fellow officials and fans had for him," said NHL
executive vice-president Jim Gregory. "We extend our deepest sympathies to
Dorothy, his children and grandchildren."
Cheers,
Aquaman