Four years after his passing, Pat Burns inducted into Hall of Fame: 'His name is here forever, and that’s important'

TORONTO — The best way to honor a coach is to listen to him, to learn from him. So listen to the video clip they played of Pat Burns before his Hockey Hall of Fame induction on Monday night, learn from it. Thin, sick, dying of cancer, Burns stood at a lectern and said: “You don’t cry because it’s over. You’re happy because it happened.”

This is a happy thing. This happened: Pat Burns went from police officer to hockey coach. He became the first three-time winner of the Jack Adams Award. He became a Stanley Cup champion and, finally, a Hall of Famer. Yes, it is sad he died at age 58 nearly four years ago. Yes, it is a shame he wasn’t inducted while he was still alive. But what would he say now?

“At his first Hall of Fame induction opportunity, a lot of people were outraged he didn’t make it in,” said his son, Jason Burns, on stage Monday night. “A lot of people but him.”

Jason remembered being nervous to bring up the news when the selection committee passed on his father in 2010. But Pat was not bitter. He did not blow up. He said it was an honor just to be considered for the Hall of Fame.

Then he did what he always did. He coached.

“I remember him saying, ‘Cheer up, Jason. I’ll get in there someday, probably. You better have a good speech ready, because you’re the one going up there for me,’ ” Jason said on stage. “So here I am with big shoes to fill.”

Pat gave his son “that severe, scary look” that he used to give the players and referees, and he instructed him to thank the Montreal Canadiens, the Toronto Maple Leafs, the Boston Bruins and the New Jersey Devils – and the players and the fans, of course. Jason did him proud.

“He was in peace,” said his wife, Line Gignac Burns, on Friday at the ring ceremony. “He told his son that one day he was hoping to get there. It was more [disappointing] for us. We were disappointed for him because we knew he didn’t have much time left. But that’s why today this is wonderful. It’s just finally happened. His name is here forever, and that’s important.”

Pat Burns will be remembered by the hockey world for how he took over floundering Habs, Leafs and Bruins teams and turned them into winners – and how he took over the Devils and put them over the top. He took the Habs to the Cup final and the Leafs to the Eastern Conference final twice. He posted a .573 winning percentage over more than 1,000 NHL games.

He was a great bench coach, with a feel of who was going that night and who wasn’t. “He was focused in on that game, not just on the team he was playing against, but more on his players,” said Devils general manager Lou Lamoriello. “He was one of the better ones that I’ve been around.”

He could scream and yell and hold players accountable, yet grow close to them. “He was tough,” said former Leafs captain Mats Sundin. “He demanded respect. But at the same time, he had a touch where he was personal and human as well.”

You wonder how much more he could have accomplished if not for cancer.

Pat Burns will be remembered for more than that, though, especially by his family. He could be a grizzly bear, but his wife called him her “little teddy bear.” He was intense at the rink; he was different at home. He would explode now and then about this or that because he needed to vent, but if he did, he got it out quickly.

“At home, my god, he was pure joy,” said Line. “He was so funny. Pat had extraordinary sense of humor, and I miss that. I miss that because when he was home, he was so much there.”

Those are beautiful words, mistranslated a bit from French, maybe, but perfect.

He was so much there …

“He remained the same guy, the same down-to-earth guy,” said Line. “The game didn’t change him. And that’s not easy to do. This is a big life. It’s very glamorous. But the guy never changed. He stayed himself, and I’m proud of that because he came from nothing.”

During Pat’s years in Boston, Pat and Line bought a small farm in Gilmanton, New Hampshire. It had a modest beige house and a big red barn out back. Pat put a gym and a office in the barn, and he used to go out there when he needed some space. He loved hanging out with the dog and his trophies.

Yes, Pat put his trophies in the barn – all of them, including the Jack Adams replicas. If Line tried to bring a trophy into the house, he would protest.

“Don’t bring that in here,” he would say. “Why would you do that?”

“You know, it’s kind of nice,” she would say. “It’s a nice piece.”

“No. No. No.”

The next day, it would be back in the barn. The only stuff he allowed in the house were pictures. In other words, people, memories, not things. Bobby Orr. Ray Bourque. Friends. Family.

In her speech, Line said the healthy Pat Burns taught hockey, and the unhealthy Pat Burns taught how to live and how to survive. Burns’ first cancer diagnosis came during the 2004 playoffs, a year after he had won the Cup with Devils. He told his players in a matter-of-fact team meeting. He told the public he would never back down from a fight.

He fought, as promised. He even made it back behind the bench to assist Ken Hitchcock with Team Canada at the 2008 world championships. In September 2010, a report said Burns had died. It was greatly exaggerated. He showed up at a groundbreaking for an arena to be named in his honor in Quebec.

“I’m not dead yet,” he said.

His memory lives on now.

Before he died, he gave his Stanley Cup ring to his son. Who will get this Hall of Fame ring?

“This one,” Line said, “is mine.”

She hugged the box against her body.

“I’m happy,” she said. “Very happy.”

You don’t cry because it’s over. You’re happy because it happened.

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