Andre "Red Light" Racicot. Not shown in the image is the sunburned skin on the back of his neck.

I’ll give Andre Racicot credit – he didn’t play too badly against some of the hapless teams of the era (Hartford, Quebec, etc) but if you put him up against a team that had some decent firepower… wow. I mean, I’ve never seen such a lop-sided tandem in a long time. You have a Vezina and Stanley Cup winning goalie as your workhorse and star, and he’s backed up by a junior hockey bust.

There’s been some debate as to who coined the term “Red-Light” for our rubber-phobic friend, but most sources point to Don Cherry who used the phrase during an episode of Coach’s Corner years ago after an embarrassing shellacking at the hands of an inferior team. With some incredible displays of athleticism like this:

its little wonder why the nickname stuck. For a number of years, Andre Racicot served as the backup to Patrick Roy. The two of them had a good rapport, but many viewed Roy’s friendliness towards his less-skilled partner as a sign of known safety – that Roy was smart enough to realize that he could never be supplanted by a guy like Red Light.

It wasn’t until the cup run in 93 that Roy took notice, after the media slammed his performance leading up to the playoffs and in the first two losses of the Montreal-Quebec series. When the media and fans are serious about starting Racicot over Roy, you know that there is a serious problem. I think St. Pat was astute enough to pull his socks up and play better than expected. The rest is history. And apparently, so was Racicot’s chance of ever taking over the number one role.

He did however, achieve some moderate success in the minors – winning a championship in 2001 with the Bakersfield Condors, posting a respectable GAA and playing some of his best hockey. But he will forever be remembered for the moniker that brings back some funny, and often disastrous memories in the late 80s and early 90s.

As a Habs fan in the late 80s/ early 90s, you'll never look at one of these the same.

Lanny's Stache - like a foxtail stapled to his face.

How many of you recall the 89 Stanley Cup final between Montreal and Calgary, when a veteran Lanny McDonald vowed to retire and shave off his famous flaming red moustache (beard at this point) immediately following the game?

What are you smiling about...

I do. All too vividly. When the Habs were defeated in 6 games to an upstart Flames team coached by a stammering Terry Crisp, I remember feeling humiliated and inconsolable as I wept when the Flames paraded around the Montreal ice hoisting the Cup and whooping it up. (I was 12. Relax…) Through watery eyes, I watched as the CBC cameras caught up to Lanny in the bathroom where he was shaving off the big red tufts of hair from his face while his teammates sprayed him periodically with champagne.

To this day, I still dislike the Flames. And whenever I see Lanny McDonald and his trademark bushy ’stache, I get angry knowing its hiding that shit-eating ‘I went out on top’ grin.

Stop smiling you big jerk...

I had to wait another 5 years before I’d see the Canadiens hoist the Cup again. Its a long time when you have to fend off Boston every single year to get there.

Everyone has a story as to how they end up cheering for their favourite sports team. Today, I’m going to tell you how I came to be a fan of the Montreal Canadiens at the tender age of 6. I haven’t looked back since – and over a quarter century later, I’m still as passionate about les Bleu, Blanc et Rouge (that’s blue, white and red for you non-frenchies) as I was back then. Here’s how it all went down.

I received my first pair of skates from my old landlord when I was 5 years old. I would play shinny hockey with the older kids from the neighbourhood on a creek that froze over in the winter. At that point, my eyes opened up to the sport, and I finally realized the allure of plunking your ass down in front of the TV at 7 pm EST every Saturday night with the channel turned to the CBC for their broadcasts of Hockey Night in Canada. In those days, Dave Hodge and Don Cherry wore baby blue blazers and the intermission segments were set up in more of a newscast format. I would join my father as we watched a game each weekend, and it became a weekly ritual. Except there was one problem.

I don`t like the Leafs. No matter what my father did to convince me otherwise, the Leafs were too boring for my tastes and lost too often to be taken seriously, which would lead to my interest waning by the middle of the second period. It wasn`t until I saw the explosive talent of this kid from Brantford that I started to pay attention to the hockey broadcasts fully.

That kid was Wayne Gretzky, and that year he amassed a record setting 212 points in a single season. He was my new favourite, and the young and talented Edmonton Oilers became my team. My folks bought me a Gretzky sweater for Christmas and I wore it with pride 7 days a week, 24 hours a day. Now, when I went to the creek to play hockey, I envisioned myself as a mini-Gretzky, channeling his skill to try and outplay the big kids. But there was another problem. I wasn`t the only one – there were 7 or 8 OTHER Gretzkys out there too. I`m not one for being the same as the next guy, so this just wouldn`t do.

One of the older kids sensed my disappointment and offered me some advice. He told me that there were 20 other teams to cheer for, all with players that were as fantastic as Gretzky (well not really, but he was trying to cheer me up). So he talked to my Dad and basically told him that I needed a team to call my own. So that Saturday, he plunked me down in front of the TV and told me to watch a few games here and there to see if there was a team that I could get behind. It took a few weeks, and I had to plug through games featuring Colorado, Detroit, and other snoozers and losers. I had lost a bit of faith – I didn`t want to cheer for a team by default. I wanted a connection with a team. I was too young to express that, but I knew what I felt.

One evening, the stars aligned and everything fell into place. My uncles were over at the house for a visit on a Saturday night to watch a big match up between two teams. I thought to myself, “Great, another Toronto and Detroit matchup. Boring.”

How wrong I was – you see, the main reason my uncles were over was to root for their respective teams, and tonight, it was Toronto and Montreal. Not knowing much about these team from La Belle Province, my uncle sat me down on the couch beside me and fed me all these wonderful stories about their history, their great players and all the championships they had won. Not to mention, they were first in their division, and perennial contenders for the Stanley Cup. I was intrigued, and after the first period I was hooked. Now this uncle of mine was my favourite uncle, and we had a strong bond (mainly because he had two daughters and always longed for a son). We were pretty close, so sharing our excitement over a team was something that I enjoyed.

I remember watching him jump off the couch after an overtime goal, and the passion he had while watching these little Frenchmen whipping around the ice, making the Leafs players look like pylons. I watched my uncle razz my father and other uncle, and I joined in. I remember that day vividly, because it was THE day I became a Montreal fan. I had found my team, and it will forever be one of my favourite childhood memories.

Much to my father`s dismay, I began sporting blue, white and red more frequently and became the black sheep of the family (along with my uncle) at an early age. Everyone else cheered for Toronto. Not me – and I`m a better person for it! I experienced the highs and lows with the team throughout the next 25 years – 2 Stanley Cup wins, the emergence of a young kid who would become the greatest goaltender of the modern era, and then the subsequent collapse of the team in the 90s, followed by a renewed enthusiasm and hope for the future.

If these first 25 years have been this great, I can`t wait for the next 25. And if the first 100 years of the franchise have been this successful, I can imagine how the next 100 will be. All I know is I love my team, and will support them until I`m gone and hanging out with the Forum ghosts in the afterlife. This guy is a Habanero for life.

Go Habs Go.