I love these photos of José...they were taken when he played in Sweden during the NHL Lockout season. Those eyes, those eyes...
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Capitals Insider article by Tarik El-Bashir, June 23, 2010.
Moments after a misty-eyed speech here in Las Vegas while accepting the Bill Masterton Trophy, José Theodore confirmed to me that GM George McPhee called recently to inform the veteran goal that he won't be re-signed by the Caps.
"We had a good talk," Theodore said. "I enjoyed my time in Washington. Two great years. Winning percentage, stats-wise, it was fun to play for the Caps. But things in the new NHL, they are, they're going to go with the young kids [Semyon Varlamov and Michal Neuvirth] and I respect that."
"I have nothing but good words to say about this city, especially the fans and the organization," he added. "With the way I finished last year, I'm just looking forward to next season."
Theodore said he does not know where he'll end up but quickly added that he's not ready to be a mentor or a backup.
"We're going to see on July 1," he said. "There's going to be a few openings. I'm just going to see which one fits the best. I'm not ready for that mentoring job. The last few years I've been playing 50 or more games. I still feel like I can play 50 games. I feel I can mentor the best I can, but I still want to play."
I'm sad that José won't be staying in Washington. But I really hope he can find a starting position somewhere else for a few more years. He will be 34 at the beginning of next season. I have not had my fill of José's awesome saves yet!!! ;o)
Friday, June 25, 2010
The reason I started this site is because during my internet searching for info about José, I didn't find actual fan sites. I wanted there to be somewhere out there that other José fans could find background, photos, news, etc.
And during my internet searching trying to find out all I could, I ran into some articles discussing some problems he had in his personal life in 2003 and 2004. I'm mainly referring to the fact that his father and half-brothers got into some legal trouble.
But until today, I hadn't really read anything that José himself had said, so I was excited to find a blog entry that is about 3 years old. I'm going to share it here, so people reading can see that there are 2 sides to every story.
It is on a blog here on Blogspot called Gare Joyce, from Jan 21, 2007. He is a sports writer, seeming to focus on NHL writing. The original piece was written in the Summer of 2003 and was found in ESPN The Magazine.
Why José Théodore had to get the hell out of Montreal
This story broke some new ground in the biggest hockey story in Canada back in the summer of 2003. José Théodore, the Montreal Canadiens goaltender and former NHL most valuable player, was on the front pages, first when his father and four brothers were charged with racketeering, and later when photos of José Théodore and friends in the Hells Angels were made public. The news in this story—not reported in either the English or French press—was a convicted drug dealer for the Angels having a phone book with José Théodore’s phone number listed (and that Théodore’s phone number was in fact a “vanity number” for the biker organization).
From ESPN The Magazine
After a season—and summer—from hell—José Théodore seeks peace between the pipes.
By Gare Joyce
José Théodore was feeling sick and weak. He was in the Canadiens locker room, waiting for the introductions before Les Habs’ first preseason game this fall. He was hoping the Bell Centre fans would cheer him. He thought that they would, but he wasn’t sure.
By the time Théodore had finished his warm-up, he felt worn out and was soaked in a cold sweat. It might have been the flu he was battling. But it could also have been the tension of this first night in goal after a season he’d rather forget and a summer he never will.
What a difference a year makes. At the same time in 2002, Théodore owned more than the Hart and the Vezina trophies that were his reward for a season of artistry. He owned Montreal. He was la vedette—the player with star quality, embodiment of the rouge, bleu et blanc: Born and raised in Montreal, fluent in French and English, face fit for a boy band, his play in goal—equal parts butterfly and whirling dervish—reminiscent of the great Patrick Roy.
But that was before. Before a season in which Théodore slipped from first in save percentage to 15th, a season in which the Canadiens missed the playoffs after a miraculous run the previous year. Before last June, when police busted Théodore’s father, four half-brothers and an uncle for loan-sharking at a Montreal casino. Before the Montreal papers ran front-page photographs of Théodore, all smiles, posing with one of Canada’s most notorious gangs. Before José Théodore learned that he could not stop all the shots life fired at him.
Finally, the introductions: “Numero Soixante, Number Sixty, José Théodore.” Even before the PA announcer made it to the English, even before he said the name, the fans applauded, cheered, rose to their feet. Théodore sighed in relief. He had survived a difficult moment, the latest, if not the last.
When Théodore was a kid playing hockey for the 47 Richelieu team in Montreal, he worshiped Patrick Roy. So did a lot of other kids. But for Théodore, becoming an NHL goalie wasn’t a pipe dream. When José was 12, Russian hockey icon Viacheslav Tretiak predicted a bright NHL future for Théodore. Once the goalie for the Soviet Union’s 1970s hockey dynasty, Tretiak now ran a hockey school in Montreal, and in a television interview he predicted stardom for his young student. Théodore still has a tape of the broadcast, which made him a local celebrity. He can still recite it, word for word. “I’ve had a lot of goaltenders come to my school,” says Tretiak. “A lot went to the NHL. José was the best, better than Martin Brodeur.”
The Canadiens took Théodore with their second-round pick in the 1994 draft, even with Roy on their roster. The young man’s future could not have been brighter. His past—or at least his father’s past—was another story.
In those days, Habs scouts didn’t bother with player interviews and background checks, believing those procedures tipped off other teams. But rival scouts who ran those checks were scared by what they found. They learned that José’s father ran with the wrong crowd. That he had served 16 months in jail in the early 1980s for dealing hashish. “We knew about Ted Théodore,” says one junior coach who worked with José. “NHL scouts had to know, too.”
Their fears will be played out publicly in December, when Ted Théodore appears in a Montreal court on 59 criminal counts for offenses that include conspiracy to loan-sharking, racketeering, issuing death threats and weapons possession. Ted’s four oldest sons from his first marriage—Nicky, 45, Frank, 42, Theo Jr., 35, and Roch, 29—and his brother Boris are also charged.
In the past eight months, police have taken statements from more than 200 alleged victims of a loan-sharking ring that charged 200% to 600% interest on loans that reached well into five figures. And in May, police seized a bank account held jointly by Ted and José, with a balance of $85,000 (Canadian). Police say that the cash was not José’s, that Ted made the deposits assuming that large sums would not attract attention when one of the account-holders draws a seven-figure NHL salary. Police also say his son was never a suspect.
“José Théodore has not met with us, and we do not anticipate meeting with him,” says Jean-Guy Gagnon, deputy chief of criminal investigations with the Montreal police. Adds Guy Ouellette, a retired Quebec cop who’s been active in the case: “There would be no motive for a hockey star already making millions to risk everything.”
Still, the cops had to be thinking about José Théodore when they dubbed the case Operation Referee. Théodore won’t talk about the investigation. But he must have been dreading the results of Operation Referee throughout much of last season. And with that assumption comes another: Théodore’s worries may have had something to do with the netminder’s disappointing performance on the ice.
In hockey-obsessed Montreal, that slide would have been a focus of the media this offseason had it not been for the scandal. Now, instead of José’s play, the press is focused on a more lurid question, one that Montreal’s Le Journal blared in a recent headline: “What did he know?”
What did he know? Maybe José’s mother, Marie-France, told him stories when he asked where his father was for those 16 months, or what Ted did for a living. Because of José’s self-imposed gag order, we can’t know. But there’s a difference between being innocent and living blind.
“You have to believe José knew something,” Ouellette says. “But it’s not his duty to report his father. He had to think about the support his father gave him over the years.”
José Théodore wasn’t Montreal’s No. 1 goalie going into the 2001-02 season. Just a couple of years clear of the minors, he was slated to divide ice time with veteran Jeff Hackett. Montreal’s playoff hopes looked bleak, bleaker still after center and captain Saku Koivu was diagnosed with stomach cancer. When Hackett was sidelined in November with a hand injury, it looked like just another misfortune in a cursed season. But black cloud seemed to lift when Théodore took over. Although he saw 30 shots per game, more than any other NHL goalie, he led the league with a .931 save percentage. His goals-against average was a glimmering 2.11. And the numbers only started to tell the story of the team’s reliance on him.
“We asked him to be God,” says Montreal goalie coach Rollie Melanson. He was at least a god. Thanks to Théodore and the inspirational return of Koivu, the Habs made the playoffs, knocked off the favored Bruins in the first round, and took the eventual Eastern Conference champion Hurricanes to six games. Théodore’s prize? The Hart Trophy as the NHL’s MVP, the Vezina as the league’s top goalie and, after a brief holdout, a three-year $18 million contract that made him the highest-paid player in Montreal’s history.
Then, just like that, it all went wrong. Théodore struggled last season. He finished with a 2.90 goals-against average. The Habs never even sniffed the playoffs. Melanson doesn’t understate José’s struggles—“When you’re No. 1 in the world the only place you can go is down. What we didn’t anticipate was him coming into camp not in the condition he should have been in”—but he had no idea of the real struggles his protege was enduring.
In April, José had told family members that he was afraid they were going to hurt his career—a conversation that was recorded while Ted was under electronic surveillance.
While the front-page stories about his family may not have been José’s doing, the next media frenzy was. In June, two papers ran photos of Théodore posing with the Hells Angels. In the United States, the image of the Hells Angels might be along the lines of middle-aged weekend warriors on Harleys. But in Canada, and Quebec specifically, the gang represents nothing benign or romantic. For years, in fact, the Angels had been waging a bloody turf war with a rival gang, the Rock Machine, on the streets of Montreal: guns, bombs, the works. The toll across the province: 164 dead, including 29 innocents, one an 11-year-old boy. The Angels have also killed prison guards, bombed police stations and bribed cops and juries.
And José Théodore was their pet.
In the photograph published by Allo Police, a crime tabloid, Théodore was standing with 13 Hells Angels at a golf tournament sponsored by a strip joint in 1998. In the second, published by Le Journal and taken in 2000, he is seen with the Angels in full regalia, in one of their clubhouses just outside of Montreal.
The NHL prohibits personnel from associating with criminals, but the league didn’t punish Théodore or even confirm that officials spoke with him after the photos were published. Ouellette, the retired investigator, claims that Louis Laframboise, who heads the company in charge of NHL security in Quebec, said he had spoken to Théodore about the pictures. An NHL spokesman says only that league security is “an internal matter.” Théodore’s agent, Don Meehan, says the NHL has never spoken to his client about the Angels.
Whatever the truth, Théodore talked to reporters about the two scandals just once, in August. He was understandably cautious. “When you’re young, you don’t have the same judgment as today,” he said. “These photos were taken five or six years ago. I learn from experience. But I’m not perfect … These are the things that come with my fame.”
Even if the NHL never warned Théodore about running with the Angels, they had to be disturbed by one piece of evidence from the prosecution of Eric Bouffard, a boyhood pal of José’s. Bouffard is serving four years for drug trafficking, and when he was arrested police seized his address book. That José Théodore’s name and number were listed did not surprise Ouellette. But the digits did. “It’s not important what the first three numbers were,” Ouellette says. “It was the last four, 8181. For Hells Angels, these are very important. Many use 81 as a short form for the Hells Angels. H is the eighth letter of the alphabet, A the first. Hells Angels will pay a lot of money for a phone number with 81 in it.”
José Théodore is the best known NHL player with a family connection to crime, but he won't be the first. In fact, he won't even be the first goaltender from Montreal whose family was linked to the underworld.
A famous story retold many times when veteran hockey men gather: An agent walks through the lobby of a hotel in Montreal and spots Billy Johnston. "Good to see you, Billy," the agent says. "What are you doing these days?"
Billy Johnston looks at him stone-faced and in a matter-of-fact monotone says: "Bank robber, retired."
Billy Johnston may or may not have robbed banks but he was a known wiseguy in Montreal three or four decades ago and the brother of Eddie Johnston, former Boston Bruins netminder and former coach of Hartford and Pittsburgh. In fact, in the Johnston family, the hoods out-numbered the jocks, another brother Mickey being connected as well.
The Johnstons grew up poor just a few blocks south of the old Montreal Forum. Just like José Théodore, they dreamed of playing for the Habs. They couldn't afford tickets to Canadiens games and so they ran through the turnstiles and hid in the crowd in the standing room section. "In those days all the players in Quebec were owned by Montreal, so I played on the Canadiens junior affiliates," Johnston says. "To make extra cash I worked as a practice goalie for the Canadiens for a buck a practice. For one dollar I had Maurice Richard coming in from the blueline, running me over."
While Eddie Johnston saw hockey as a way off Montreal's mean streets, his brothers ran with what he calls "a tough crowd." Among those in the crowd, as it turns out, was Ted Théodore.
Still, Eddie Johnston said that his brothers respected his hockey ambitions. "Thing is, I was never involved with my brother and his friends and they never tried to involve me," Eddie Johnston says. "I don't know if they were protective of me or just wanted to see me make it."
There's the difference between then and now. The Johnstons were hands off with Eddie. It seems Ted Théodore wasn't worried about keeping a distance from his famous son. He recklessly tried to use his son as cover. Meanwhile José's boyhood friends were all too ready to capitalize on their friendship with him, no matter what the consequences.
Johnston wouldn't speculate about Théodore's future with the Canadiens. "Maybe it turned out easier for me because when I was still a young guy, Montreal traded me and I spent the rest of my life living in the U.S," he says.
And that's what many were looking for this autumn: a trade that would make life easier for José Théodore. Canadiens executives defended the goaltender during the summer—but as any Montrealer knows, even a Montrealer who has been stamped as the next great star of the Canadiens, this is the most image-conscious franchise in professional sport, more of a cultural institution than a team. If Théodore lost the fans, if the media turned on, or if somehow he were implicated in his family’s alleged crime syndicate, those trophies and gaudy numbers wouldn’t mean a thing. He’d be traded. Like Roy was. Like other Hall of Famers had been before him. In Montreal, the criminals are more sentimental than Canadiens executives.
Flu-ridden and rusty, José Théodore gave up two first-period goals in that first preseason game. Eric Fichaud, a goalie in the minors, started the second period, but left after breaking a finger in his catching hand. Mathieu Garon, Théodore’s regular backup, was in the arena in civvies and could have rushed into service. Instead, Théodore, white as the ice, skated back into the net. After last season’s uncertainty and last summer’s heat, he was relieved to be back in goal, even though the Habs would go on to lose 4-3. He had to keep his head in the game—on the bench his mind would have been racing.
After the game, as José unlaced his skates, reporters huddled around him. They observed his ground rules and asked no questions about the scandals. Despite the headlines, fans, journalists—even Guy Ouellette—wish him well. No one seems to hold his family’s alleged crimes against him. Besides, Théodore always seemed to have a bit of danger in him. Like Allen Iverson, his street cred is part of his appeal.
“Every time I made a save, I heard clapping and cheers,” he told the reporters. “It was a big boost. The coaches told me, ‘It’s only preseason. You’re sick. You shouldn’t play.’ I’ve played in worse situations.”
He’s lived through worse ones, too. All through Théodore’s summer from hell, there were as many trade rumors filling the air as mosquitoes. One had José going to Colorado, filling the void left by Patrick Roy’s retirement. But that would have been a very unpopular trade: One survey reported that 71% of Quebecers opposed the idea. “He’s not on the market,” Canadiens president Pierre Boivin told Le Journal. “He’s still our No. 1 goaltender.”
And he’s playing like one: Through six games this season, he has a 2.00 goals-against average and two shutouts.
Will it last? Even if it doesn’t José Théodore has made his mark on the franchise. Across from his stall in the Canadiens dressing room in the Bell Centre, Théodore can see his name engraved in marble. Carved into the gray tablet on the wall near the door to the ice are the names of Canadiens who have won the NHL’s individual trophies. “José Théodore 2002” is the most recent entry among Hart Trophy winners, a list that includes Jean Beliveau, Maurice Richard and Howie Morenz. “José Théodore 2002” is also on the honor roll of Vezina Trophy winners, along with Roy, Ken Dryden and Jacques Plante.
It will be a struggle to get his name back on that marble, but José’s father may be able to help. At a hearing in September, prosecutors pushed for a December court date for Ted Théodore and the other defendants. They’re pressuring for a plea bargain, to bring a quick end to a proceeding that could drag for months. If Ted Théodore cops a plea, José can start to get on with his life—with a heavy heart, perhaps, but a clear mind. “What did José Théodore know?” will no longer be the burning question, and he’ll have a chance to answer the one that really matters. How will José Théodore be remembered?
Thursday, June 24, 2010
“I’ve always had a lot of respect for the players who won this award because it recognized that has come back from injury or overcome some adversity,” said the 33-year-old Laval, Que., native, who won the award which goes to a player who demonstrates perseverance, sportsmanship and dedication to hockey.
Theodore, who plays for the Washington Capitals, established the charity Saves for Kids to benefit the neonatal intensive care unit at the Washington hospital where his infant son, Chace, was being treated before passing away from complications after he was born prematurely.
“It’s something I’m dealing with every day,” said Theodore. “Yesterday would have been his first birthday and I’m glad that I do something that might help other kids.”
Theodore, who said hockey provided him with a respite from “reality,” had a 30-7-7 record with the high-powered Capitals and was particularly strong down the stretch when he posted a 20-0-3 record.
© Copyright (c) The Montreal Gazette
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Article from NHL.com on June 23, 2010
A year and a day after celebrating the birth of his son Chace, Washington Capitals goalie José Theodore won the Bill Masterton Memorial Trophy at the NHL Awards Show for the way he dealt with his son's death.
Chace Theodore passed away 54 days after being born due to respiratory complications from his premature birth. José dealt with it off the ice by creating a charity, "Saves for Kids," to benefit the neonatal intensive care unit at Children's National Medical Center in Washington, the hospital where his son died.
"Obviously, it was a tough year emotionally, but I'm really proud of the way I handled myself," he said. "Then winning this award just brings back some tough memories or good memories, it depends, but it's tough. With all the support I had, it was just nice to see people around me that cared for that."
Theodore pledged money for each save, win and shutout he made during the season. With matching donations and support from the Caps and their fans, Theodore presented a check for $35,000 to Children's National Medical Center on May 7.
On the ice, Theodore not only regained the starting job, he had his best season since winning the Hart and Vezina Trophies in 2002. He finished with a 30-7-7 record, a 2.81 goals-against average and .911 save percentage in helping lead Washington to the club's first Presidents' Trophy. His winning percentage (.761) was the highest of any goaltender in franchise history. He finished the season 20-0-3 with a 2.58 goals-against average and a .922 save percentage in games after Jan. 13, setting a team record for most decisions without a regulation loss.
He said playing hockey was a big help in coping with his son's death.
"It's not an award growing up that you look at it and you aim for because a lot of times it means you had a sickness or a tragedy," Theodore said. "So it's not something you look toward. But I always admired the people that won it, because I know they have to make comebacks and fight through a lot of adversity. For me, off the ice was really tough, but being on the ice for my teammates was just a way to forget about everything and forget a little bit about reality and going out there and playing hard. That was the time that I could really just enjoy myself for a bit."
Theodore also said the tragedy put hockey into perspective.
"It just makes you realize giving up a bad goal is not the end of the world," he said of his son's death and its aftermath. "It happened three weeks before training camp opened. I didn't know how I was going to react focus-wise and everything. And to be able to have one of my best seasons I had, I'm really proud of that and looking forward to having a more normal summer, and next year being able to keep building up."
The Masterton honors the player who best exemplifies the qualities of perseverance, sportsmanship and dedication to hockey. Tampa Bay Lightning defenseman Kurtis Foster and San Jose Sharks forward Jed Ortmeyer were the other finalists. Foster posted career bests of 71 games, 34 assists and 42 points, after returning from a broken leg. Ortmeyer had 19 points in 76 games. He must inject a blood thinner into his stomach each day to combat a hereditary blood-clotting disorder.
The award was presented by the Professional Hockey Writers' Association to honor the late Bill Masterton, a player for the Minnesota North Stars who exhibited those qualities. Masterton died on Jan. 15, 1968, as a result of an on-ice injury.