Tough Love

Stu Grimson once punched another player’s head so hard that the guy’s leg broke. Must have been some punch.

Asked if he’d ever hurt someone during an on-ice fight, Jim McKenzie nodded gravely.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, whispering so no one else in the Mighty Duck dressing room could hear.

“Ever been hurt?” he was asked.

McKenzie shook his head slowly, then rapped his huge knuckles on the wooden base of his locker stall.

Meet two of the NHL’s best, most accomplished enforcers, if you dare.

Grimson and McKenzie, the Ducks’ biggest, baddest left wings, are two of the league’s best fighters and among its most-feared, most-intimidating players.

Grimson stands 6 feet 5, weighs 239 pounds and answers to the nickname, “the Grim Reaper.”

McKenzie is 6-4, 229, and looks like a lightweight only when standing next to Grimson.

Their job is not to hurt opponents, although it sometimes happens, but to protect and serve smaller, more skilled teammates such as Paul Kariya and Teemu Selanne.

If that sounds a bit like Grimson and McKenzie are policemen, well, you’ve got the right idea.

Fact is, they are sons of Royal Canadian Mounted Policemen and the Dudley Do-Right stereotype isn’t too far off the mark in their cases.

“I think people know if they take liberties against our players, Jimmy and I are there to sort it out,” Grimson said when asked to define his role.

Added McKenzie, “It’s part of the game. It’s just taking care of business.”

Grimson and McKenzie were acquired in separate trades last summer to discourage opposing teams from cracking Kariya the way Gary Suter, then of the Chicago Blackhawks, did Feb. 1. Or from roughing up Selanne the way Dallas’ Craig Ludwig did March 13.

This is Grimson’s second tour of duty with the Ducks. He and Todd Ewen were the enforcers on the inaugural 1993-94 team in Anaheim, forming a tag team former coach Ron Wilson dubbed, “Stuey and Ewey.”

Grimson, 33, also has played for Calgary, Chicago, Detroit and Carolina, and has compiled almost 1,600 penalty minutes since his first NHL game in 1988-89.

McKenzie, 29, said he hated the Ducks as a member of their bitter rivals, the Phoenix Coyotes, the last three seasons. He also has played and fought for Pittsburgh, Dallas and Hartford, racking up almost 1,200 penalty minutes since joining the league in 1989-90.

“We had some tough guys last year,” said Selanne, referring to Brent Severyn and Warren Rychel. “This year, there was a clear message when we got two of the toughest guys in the league. Now, you can do whatever you want [against the Ducks], but you’re really going to pay the price.”

Craig Berube, a veteran tough guy with the Washington Capitals, tested the Ducks on Oct. 10 and paid the price.

Berube hit Kariya with a tough, clean check near the boards. When play stopped moments later, Duck Coach Craig Hartsburg sent Grimson onto the ice. The puck was dropped to resume play and off went the gloves and down went the sticks.

Grimson landed heavy blows to Berube’s head and won a clear-cut decision. He also won over the Ducks with that fight--not that he and McKenzie wouldn’t have in time, anyway.

You see, there’s more to their roles than punching out their opposite numbers.

Yes, they throw their weight around, delivering hard checks. Yes, Grimson had three goals and McKenzie two going into Sunday night’s game against the Kings at the Arrowhead Pond.

But there’s more to their games and, indeed, their lives. What you see on the ice differs sharply from what happens in the dressing room.

Or at home.

Or at church.

Or at a visit to ill or abused children.

“I don’t really follow that, uh, er, line of work,” Kariya said, cracking a smile while searching for the proper words. “But most of those guys [enforcers] are great people. They are unbelievably smart. I don’t know if they’re just trying to counteract their images on the ice or what.”

The Grim Reaper

Grimson doesn’t fight in bars. Doesn’t go anywhere near them, if he can help it.

“The last thing I want to be is a spectacle on ‘SportsCenter,’ ” he said.

Grimson “took” his teammates to dinner in Chicago two weeks ago and was dismayed to learn it was mentioned in a newspaper gossip column.

“[Kariya] picked up the tab,” Grimson said. “I just made the reservations.”

Off the ice, Grimson comes across as just a nice guy from Kamloops, British Columbia. He has a wife and three kids. A night out in a trendy restaurant with the Ducks might be fun once in a while, but his wife’s lasagna is his favorite dish.

“Stu is probably one of the most well-rounded men I know,” goalie Guy Hebert said. “He’s got a lot of interests. It’s nice to have a guy like that on the team. You can go to a movie with the guy and he’s not ready to pick a fight with everybody in the theater.”

There’s also this interesting tidbit: Grimson is a devout Christian.

“This is who I am,” he said. “I’ve always felt, ‘Why can’t a born-again Christian play an aggressive role in a physical sport?’ Christ stuck up for people who were weak or lame in the Bible. [Fighting] takes place within the context of the game. This is just a game.”

As Grimson pointed out, there are rules to police fighting in the NHL. The league has done well in cracking down on the violence that made the game appear to be a poor cousin of professional wrestling in the 1970s.

“There is an infraction for fighting, just like tripping or hooking,” Grimson said. “It’s another tactic.”

Grimson said he never fears injury, although he has been lucky to suffer nothing worse than a broken nose--several times--split lips and bruised and scraped knuckles.

And about that other player’s broken leg? It belonged to Basil McRae, another tough guy who retired in 1997 after 16 seasons.

Grimson was getting the better of McRae in a fight when McRae’s leg snapped beneath him.

“I backed away,” Grimson said. “I knew he was in trouble.”

Honor among tough guys.

“He’s got that ‘Grim Reaper’ nickname,” Kariya said. “And you meet the guy and he’s this great person. It’s an awful nickname.”

A Different Role

Fact is, McKenzie has fought only once this season. Won his scrap with Chicago’s Brad Brown too.

McKenzie’s role is somewhat different from Grimson’s. Grimson plays on the checking line, the fourth unit of forwards, rarely getting more than 10 minutes of playing time in a single game.

McKenzie has played with two crafty rookies, Johan Davidsson and Antti Aalto, on the third line.

He also has played on the power-play unit and helped the Ducks score two goals with Hebert on the bench in favor of a sixth skater in the final minute of regulation in a 3-3 tie Oct. 30 against Dallas.

“Hockey is a game of momentum,” McKenzie said. “A big fight or a big hit can change the momentum of a game as much as a goalie’s save or a goal. Teams change how they play against you. Anaheim learned that the hard way last year. After Paul was injured, teams took liberties against Teemu.”

There has been none of that this season. Kariya and Selanne have had plenty of room to work their offensive magic.

Although Grimson has handled most of the fighting chores, McKenzie has adapted nicely to his new role on his new team.

Defenseman Jason Marshall, for one, is grateful McKenzie is with him now instead of against him. Last season, while playing for Phoenix, McKenzie sidelined Marshall for several games with a heavy check that separated his shoulder.

“That was the hardest hit in my life,” said Marshall, who holds no grudge.

McKenzie figures he could just play hockey, simply mete out on-ice justice and still earn his teammates’ respect. But there’s more to life. Perhaps that is a lesson learned from a father who was a Mountie for 30 years.

“I learned right from wrong from my parents,” said McKenzie, married with two children.

In Phoenix, McKenzie was active with the police department’s DARE program, which warns children about the dangers of drugs and alcohol. In Anaheim, he has been active in the Ducks’ program with the Orangewood Children’s Home, a shelter for abused kids in Orange County.

“We’re in the community for nine or 10 months during the year, playing hockey,” McKenzie said. “It’s important you just don’t go home isolated . . . without meeting people. Even if it’s just showing up and signing autographs.

“Kids are real and they’re hard to talk to sometimes.”

Then, pointing at a reporter, he added, “This? This is easy. Chances are you’ll run out of paper and ink before I run out of quotes.”