The Toughest Penguins Ever: Steve Durbano

As a young hockey fan, I’ll never forget the day in January of 1974 when the Penguins acquired tough guys Steve Durbano and Bob “Battleship” Kelly from St. Louis. At the time of the trade the Pens were languishing in next-to-last place. Worse yet, they were a woefully timid team—the 98-pound weaklings of the NHL.

It was as if Wyatt Earp and Bat Masterton had suddenly ridden into town to restore law and order. Kelly had earned a reputation as one of the most fearsome fighters in hockey. His victims included the Flyers’ notorious bad man, Dave “the Hammer” Schultz.

However, I was absolutely spellbound by Durbano (shown above in a Blues uniform), a larger-than-life character straight from the movie Slap Shot. The brawling 6’1” 210-pound defenseman had grabbed my attention during the 1973 preseason when he beat the daylights out of our former policeman, Bryan “Bugsy” Watson.

Aptly described by a local sports writer as a “hard fist of a defenseman,” his appetite for mayhem had already reached legendary proportions. While skating for the Rangers’ top farm club in Omaha in 1971-72, he set a then-professional hockey record with an astronomical 402 penalty minutes.

“Durbano doesn’t check the condition of the ice before a game,” mused a former teammate. “He checks the condition of the seat in the penalty box.”

It didn’t take long for Durby to establish himself with his new team. In his first game as a Penguin, he scored a goal against the Canucks and brawled with Dave Dunn. A few nights later he took on Bob Gassoff, a tousle-haired defenseman with a fearsome reputation, during a big, post-trade grudge match with the Blues.

According to an account in the Beaver County Times, Durby schooled his former protégé.

“I don’t think Gassoff landed too many punches,” Steve told a reporter after the game. “But I know I sure did.”

With all due respect to Kelly, Durbano instantly became my favorite player. He was the knight in shining armor, albeit a black knight, who had ridden into town on his charger to restore the team’s honor.

The hits kept coming. I vividly recall an incident during the night of April 2, 1974, when the Penguins were playing the Islanders on Long Island. Garry Howatt, a scrappy little winger known as the “Toy Tiger,” cruised in front of our net, where he was confronted by Durbano. They clashed and Howatt flew into a rage.

The linesmen quickly separated the would-be combatants and escorted “Durby” to a safe haven behind the cage. Durbano took a step back and calmly rolled up his sleeves. It seemed that cooler heads would prevail. Suddenly, the swashbuckling defenseman bolted around the net and launched himself at Howatt with fists flailing.

A TV replay revealed why Howatt had become so infuriated: Durbano had speared him in the groin.

Not only was Durby tough as nails, but he showed genuine promise. Possessing a heavy shot and underrated skills, he enjoyed an outstanding half-season with the Pens. In just 33 games he registered 18 points and a plus-17, not to mention 138 penalty minutes.

Veteran hockey scribe Stan Fischler believed the former first-round pick of the Rangers had the potential to be an All-Star if only he could control his temper.

I got a chance to meet Durbano face to face during the summer of 1974, when he was part of a group of players who visited South Hills Village in suburban Pittsburgh to help drum up ticket sales. I was in awe. There sat my hero, no more than five feet away. I was too shy to speak. But as other fans gathered around the table, one piped up, “What do you think of (Flyers tough guy) Dave Schultz?”

“Not much,” Durbano replied, dark eyes flashing. For an impressionable 17-year-old fan this was heady stuff.

I couldn’t wait for the start of the season. However, Steve’s career took a sudden and irretrievable turn for the worse on the night of October 19, 1974.

“We were playing Philadelphia and I was trying to avoid a hip check by Moose Dupont,” he explained to writer Mike Hanley. “I put my hand out when I hit the ice and my elbow locked.”

A bone from Durbano’s arm was driven through his hand by the impact.

“The pain was unbelievable,” he said. “When I pulled my glove off, I almost got sick. The doctor had a player sit on my arm while he yanked my hand back in place.”

Despite numerous operations, Durbano never regained full use of his left hand.

“The timing was terrible,” he said. “I felt like my game was just coming together. I couldn’t lift weights with that hand. My arm started to shrivel. My fighting days were over, my shot was gone, and my career was starting to go downhill.”

Reduced to the role of a side-show performer, the volcanic defenseman was dealt to Kansas City on January 9, 1976, two short years after his arrival. Although his fighting ability was impaired, his infamous temper remained intact.

So did his wild man reputation. As a member of the Canadiens, Durby’s good friend and former junior teammate Steve Shutt pulled rookie Brian Engblom aside one night and offered a sage bit of advice.

“There’s a guy named Durbano out there tonight,” he warned. “I don’t know what his number is. Don’t hit him. Don’t slash him. Don’t talk to him. Don’t go near him.”

Perhaps a fitting epitaph for a career (and life) that gradually, inexorably went off the rails. Sadly ending in Steve’s premature death in 2002, just shy of his 51^st birthday.

I prefer to remember him for those few short months in 1974 when his future—and that of the Penguins—seemed as boundless as the summer sky.