Don't lie to me ... tell me the truth ... are you Bobby Hull?

If you were a fan of the 1960s Original Six NHL, Robert Marvin Hull would have been one of your favourite players even if you didn't like the Chicago Black Hawks hockey club.

He was featured in LIFE magazine. They claimed his shot was 118mph (with a wooden stick) and he skated at 29.7mph.

He was on the cover of Sports Illustrated magazine four times. His cover in a 1968 edition of TIME Magazine was designed by American super-star artist, Leroy Neiman.  Even Hollywood's biggest 1960's movie star, Kim Novack, claimed he was her favourite athlete.

His look. His 1,000-watt smile. He was big. He knew how to get every fan in every NHL rink out of their seats -- not to boo him but to be amazed by his skills.

He spent 23 years playing in the NHL/WHL.

He earned the Hart Trophy twice and the Art Ross Trophy three times and the Stanley Cup in 1961.

Hull instantly became the WHA's greatest star winning the Gordie Howe Trophy as league MVP in 1972–73 and 1974–75.

There are too many All-Star selections and total points and blockbuster years to mention here. Go to for the stats.

You'll see why he was selected to the Hockey Hall of Fame in 1983 and why so many others since really don't deserve the honour if you use Hull's resume as the model.

AVCO Cup

Did I mention he was big? In the 1960/70's Bobby Hull was the Wayne Gretzky of his time.

He wore jersey number 16 and then jersey number 7. However, hockey's best players like Rocket Richard, Gordie Howe and "Teeder" Kennedy all wore number 9. When the time was right, Hull asked to change numbers, he wanted 9. He thought he'd earned the chance to be thought of as one of the league's best. Boy, was he right!

Among the list of sponsors who wanted to capitalize on Hull's popularity was the Ford Motor Company. He became their spokesman and did an outstanding job on TV of pitching their cars and trucks.

One day my brother Bryan, who was a Toronto fireman, phoned me in a panic. The 10-year old boy who lived next door to him (with an unpronounceable multi-lettered Italian surname), had just survived a horrific car accident that left him in a full-body cast and the boy had just been sent home from the hospital. He was going to be in bed for months.

My brother said, "You play hockey... phone the kid's favourite player, Bobby Hull, and tell him to phone the boy to cheer him up." My brother thought that because I played (shinny) hockey I knew everyone who played hockey.

I didn't know Bobby Hull.

But I was in the advertising business and had a friend who was an auto company executive who'd hired the Golden Jet. I explained the situation to my auto guy. He said ... "I'll see what I can do. What's the kid's name again ... can you spell that?" The next day, while they were producing another Ford commercial in Chicago Bobby Hull, phoned the boy-in-the-cast. He introduced himself and correctly used the boy's almost unpronounceable name.

When the boy answered the phone that was set up in his bedroom Bobby told him how sorry he was about the accident ... he told him he knew he was a hockey player ... he encouraged him to think about getting back playing ... he told him how well the Hawks had played the night before.

There was silence. The boy didn't believe it was Bobby Hull.

Coincidentally, my brother was in the room when Bobby's call arrived. As often as he tried to assure the boy that he was the real person the boy wouldn't believe it. The boy was in tears when he hung up. He thought he was being deceived. Bryan lied and told him, "My brother's a hockey player ... they know each other." It didn't help.

Three days later a package arrived (remember this is the late 1960's - who had a courier?). It was an autographed picture from Bobby Hull personalized to the boy, reminding him of their phone conversation and asking him to "stay strong" and "get back on the ice, soon".

On The Farm in Summer

Who does that? Who has the time to do that? Here's a hint.

During the 1969 season, a friend of mine was playing for the Toronto Maple Leafs. I had tickets to a game against the Hawks and was told to meet the player following the game in the Gardens' Carlton St. lobby.

There was already a group of 50 people there when I reached the space. I was confused. Were they all waiting for my Leaf buddy?

Apparently, the lobby group knew that Bobby Hull would travel through the lobby to get to the team bus on the street and they formed a blockade to make sure they could spend some time with him before he escaped.

Bobby showed up as expected. Showered, wavy golden hair, beautiful dark blue suit, overcoat slung over his shoulder, shoes glistening.

There was a buzz around him - he owned that lobby. He looked like one-level above movie star. He moved very slowly towards the exit door, signing autographs -- but he also seemed to have something to say to each individual person, like he knew them.

One fan stepped in front of him. The guy looked frazzled. He had something to say. Hull wasn't getting past him. He blocked Bobby's way.

He wanted to know why, at the end of the second period, Bobby hadn't passed the puck up the middle to the centre during a play that, according to the fan, could have developed into a break-away. Bobby looked at the guy, thought for a moment and said ... "You're right. I should have made that pass." Bobby admitted to him he'd "made a mistake". The guy beamed, Bobby signed his photo and moved on towards the door.

The mostly-Leaf-fans in the lobby wished Bobby great success in his next game as he hustled to the waiting bus.

I got the impression that those few minutes with the fans left them all thinking that each one of them and Bobby Hull were forever pals.

I remember from Ward Cornell "it doesn't cost anything to be nice".

He obviously listened to his mother.

I became a huge Bobby Hull fan that night.

Over the next several years, there would be negative allegations, stories, and rumours about Hull. He got a lot of bad ink. I couldn't believe any of it. Didn't want to. I thought if I ever had the chance to meet Bobby Hull, I'd like to thank him for what he did for that young hockey player in the body cast.

I am a very lucky person. My life has been blessed with meeting some of the most special, most unique, most controversial people -- mostly athletes. Bobby Hull tops the list.

I'd spent time working as a volunteer with the Canadian Special Olympics. I raised money by organizing and creating sports memorabilia items that we could sell at the charities' fundraising events across Canada.

In 1999, I met Bobby's brother, Dennis, also a spectacular Chicago and Team Canada superstar. Dennis donated a portrait of him and Bobby from his private family album.

He signed 50 copies for the charity and made arrangements for me to meet Bobby to sign.

We met at a downtown Toronto restaurant and once the photo signing was completed, I asked if I could tell him my story of the boy-in-the-cast.

He listened carefully. He nodded approvingly. I tried to offer as many of the details as possible to help him remember the boy. I wanted to set the stage for my thank-you. I wanted him to know how much I appreciated his kindness. I was really intent on him understanding how indebted to him I felt. When I was finished, he said, "Ya, I hear that sort of story all the time."

"I visited so many children in so many hospitals in every NHL city for so many years, people come up to me all the time. I have middle-aged men approach me in airports and tell me - "I had cancer, you visited me in the hospital when I was 14 and you shook my hand and told me to stay tough, so I did, and here I am!"

Silly me. Of course, he did. 

He was Bobby Hull. 

He was the Golden Jet