All hail, Chief! Thanks for everything, Craig Berube
He came to St. Louis as a coaching refresh, and leaves a legend.
All I could remember was his hand had swallowed my own. The St. Louis Blues had just pushed the Dallas Stars out of the 2018-19 playoffs, and the party was kicking off at OB Clark’s in Brentwood. Sometime around midnight, I quit Uber and headed for the popular bar. At the center of the patio sat Craig Berube, the new blend of tough coach power that was driving the Blues to their first Stanley Cup title.
After a few tries, I made it onto the patio thanks to a good friend. There were two goals: Meet Jon Hamm and maybe shake Berube’s hand. I went 2-2, and locking eyes and palms with the former enforcer was a bigger highlight. After all, Hamm was there to see Berube too, because he was the man of the hour.
Everyone who knows hockey and understands the instrumental value of a great coach can tell the Blues don’t win without Berube behind the bench. He pushed the right buttons, drove players harder than they’ve ever been driven before, and created a winning culture of hockey. He took over a sinking ship with a team of players who couldn’t jell and find a rhythm. They found it under “Chief,” the nickname given to Berube.
A fitting name being that belongs to a leader like Berube. He sat in that rare crowd of coaches that actually made a dent with his team and the city they played in. He wasn’t just another coach that came and went, winning some and losing enough to fade from memories. His stellar 206 win record with the Blues speaks for itself, but it’s the little things that resonate with a coach after they leave town.
The personal touch is always satisfying, how he can make each person in front of him feel special. There he is, crushing pizza and wings, and I walk up to say hello. He gets up, shakes my hand, and flashes a smile. Easy and quick, enough to know.
Then again, there’s always the way a leader carries himself, in good times and bad. When asked about Jordan Kyrou’s comments following his firing, Berube sympathized with the young player. He pointed out the immense pressure young players like him have to perform under, and how that stress can lead to those awkward media encounters. There was a perfect chance to set his own sails with the answer, and he chose the prouder road.
Chief being Chief. That’s all.
I’ll miss the guy with thick arms and no neck under wiry hair stuffed inside a suit lose his temper on the bench, seething at a referee. The tiny pockets of air where you thought he was going to throw fists and defend his players. He may not have babied them, but he’d go to the end for them just like a father would with his kids.
Who can forget the fiery speech in the Stanley Cup Final? Anybody with blood in their veins could have ran through a wall after Chief lit a fire under the team’s ass. He meant it and cared, like Hackman in Hoosiers.
The true mark of a head coach is how he leaves town. Not the manner in which he exits, but the feel with which he leaves a fanbase. When he was canned, all a St. Louis (or any city for that matter) fan could hear was high praise for Berube. They loved the guy even though the team seems destined for another playoff-less season.
They know it’s not his fault the Blues can’t build any consistency. It’s Doug Armstrong and a series of questionable moves following the Cup run. It’s the pandemic strangling the follow-up team’s momentum. It’s certain players checking out mentally. Berube can only do so much. He’s a leader; not a wish granter.
I hope he finds his footing with another team, and buries the Blues in a subtle or complete lack of subtlety way. There’s a blunt style to Berube that the Blues front office loved until it became too blunt for their blood. Armstrong would prefer his bluntness at a medium heat, instead of someone blatantly stating how his contract decisions got him in this bind. Berube has the ring, the record, and the persona that rival front offices who don’t hand out no trade clauses like Halloween candy prefer.
Good luck, Chief. Thanks for giving a shit. I’m surprised Drew Bannister didn’t trip and fall on his ass last week when he took over, because those are some big damn shoes.
Photo Credit: Winslow Townson/USA Today Sports