It's a wonder that minor-key piano music doesn't begin playing when Chelios steps onto the ice, so villainous is his reputation. Chelios somehow brings a certain delicious tension to the air, followed as it often is by an indelicate sequence of pushing, whacking, chopping, baiting, and general mayhem thrust upon opposing playmakers. On the ice, I'm a little more careful because of them. Hopefully, by the time it's later in the game, when I'm doing bad things, the kids are asleep. They are his passion, of course.
Every day there's one laugh more.
Hitting the road Chelios inherits such non-complicated approaches from his dad, Gus, a longtime restaurateur who now manages his son's downtown Chicago dining spot, Chelli's Chili Bar. It was Gus who, without a lot of deliberation, decided in 1972 that Chicago had lost its luster as a business place and as a proper environment to raise his kids. Gus set his sights on Australia as the new land of opportunity. They lived in a hotel two blocks off the beach. Chris was culturally lost but amused himself playing football with Vietnam military guys who were being shuttled to Australia for their standard few days of rest and recreation.