As a lifelong fan of the Vancouver Canucks and especially of the electric 1994 squad that came so heart-breakingly close to winning the Stanley Cup, I found the new Gino Odjick biography to be an essential read—not just for its tribute to one of our cult heroes, but for the full portrait it gives of the man behind the jersey, the Indigenous role-model, and the teammate who made a difference on and off the ice.
Gino: The Fighting Spirit of Gino Odjick profiles one of the most beloved athletes in Vancouver history. It is written by local journalist Patrick Johnston and Gino's close personal friend Peter Leech. It was a must write turned into must read book. Sadly the project happened after Gino's premature death.
Gino Odjick arrived in Vancouver as a raw, imposing presence—an enforcer by trade, but quickly becoming so much more. The authors trace his origins from the Algonquin community of Kitigan Zibi (near Maniwaki, Québec) where Gino’s father Joe, himself a survivor of Canada’s residential school system, instilled a deep sense of loyalty, pride, and responsibility.
If you were cheering the early 1990s Canucks those long nights at the Pacific Coliseum (or replaying them now), you’ll remember the personality that Odjick brought to that team. He wasn’t the leading scorer; his role was to protect, intimidate, energize—and in doing so he became indispensable. The book delivers clear context on that peak era of Vancouver hockey, and helps you appreciate how Gino’s presence amplified the skill of teammates like Pavel Bure while binding the locker-room together.
In one particularly good chapter (“If anyone went into Pavel’s airspace…”) the authors explore the friendship between Gino and Bure—two very different men, coming from very different backgrounds, yet connected by outsider status, passion and mutual respect. Gino’s willingness to stand up for Bure, to protect him on-ice and to have his back off-ice, made him far more than just the heavy: he was a galvanizing teammate.
For anyone who remembers that “Gino! Gino! Gino!” chant echoing through the building, the book gives you the back-story of why those chants meant more than just brute force: they meant heart, community, and connection to a broader story.
What elevates this biography beyond sports nostalgia is how it chronicles Gino’s significance as an Indigenous figure in Canadian hockey and beyond. The authors do not shy away from Gino’s personal struggles—his battle with alcohol, his illness (AL amyloidosis), and the toll of his NHL role—but they also highlight how his adversity turned into advocacy.
In British Columbia and Québec alike, Odjick became a bridge: from Kitigan Zibi to Vancouver, from the rink to Indigenous youth halls, from fighting in the corners to speaking in communities. The book spends delightful space on his partnership with the Musqueam Indian Band in B.C., where he lived and invested himself, and on the broader importance of a First Nations player thriving in the NHL at that time. For the ’94 Canucks fan, this means appreciating that Gino’s legacy isn’t confined to the Pacific Coliseum—it ripples into classroom visits, Indigenous empowerment, and cultural pride.
Johnston and Leech don’t hide any of Gino's troubled life. The book honours Gino’s achievements and character, but also gives the reader access to the human behind the myth—his mistakes, vulnerabilities and complexity. He had significant health, mental health and substance abuse issues for sure. A riveting read for the reasons above, yes—but also one that yields sorrow and hope in equal measure. Reviewers call it “nuanced, heart-warming and unsettling” in the way it confronts both triumph and tragedy.
If you’re a Canucks fan who cheers especially for that gritty, heartfelt 1994 team, Gino offers more than memories—it gives understanding. Understanding of how a player often overlooked on the score sheet became the emotional heartbeat of the team, how his friendship with Pavel Bure added dimension, and how his Indigenous identity and community work made him a leader beyond the rink.
One thing is for sure - after you read this book, the next time you are watching Gino Odjick fight videos on YouTube or hear the Gino! Gino! Gino! chant at the rink, you will have a far deeper appreciation of Vancouver's most popular athletes.
Gino: The Fighting Spirit of Gino Odjick profiles one of the most beloved athletes in Vancouver history. It is written by local journalist Patrick Johnston and Gino's close personal friend Peter Leech. It was a must write turned into must read book. Sadly the project happened after Gino's premature death.
Gino Odjick arrived in Vancouver as a raw, imposing presence—an enforcer by trade, but quickly becoming so much more. The authors trace his origins from the Algonquin community of Kitigan Zibi (near Maniwaki, Québec) where Gino’s father Joe, himself a survivor of Canada’s residential school system, instilled a deep sense of loyalty, pride, and responsibility.
If you were cheering the early 1990s Canucks those long nights at the Pacific Coliseum (or replaying them now), you’ll remember the personality that Odjick brought to that team. He wasn’t the leading scorer; his role was to protect, intimidate, energize—and in doing so he became indispensable. The book delivers clear context on that peak era of Vancouver hockey, and helps you appreciate how Gino’s presence amplified the skill of teammates like Pavel Bure while binding the locker-room together.
In one particularly good chapter (“If anyone went into Pavel’s airspace…”) the authors explore the friendship between Gino and Bure—two very different men, coming from very different backgrounds, yet connected by outsider status, passion and mutual respect. Gino’s willingness to stand up for Bure, to protect him on-ice and to have his back off-ice, made him far more than just the heavy: he was a galvanizing teammate.
For anyone who remembers that “Gino! Gino! Gino!” chant echoing through the building, the book gives you the back-story of why those chants meant more than just brute force: they meant heart, community, and connection to a broader story.
What elevates this biography beyond sports nostalgia is how it chronicles Gino’s significance as an Indigenous figure in Canadian hockey and beyond. The authors do not shy away from Gino’s personal struggles—his battle with alcohol, his illness (AL amyloidosis), and the toll of his NHL role—but they also highlight how his adversity turned into advocacy.
In British Columbia and Québec alike, Odjick became a bridge: from Kitigan Zibi to Vancouver, from the rink to Indigenous youth halls, from fighting in the corners to speaking in communities. The book spends delightful space on his partnership with the Musqueam Indian Band in B.C., where he lived and invested himself, and on the broader importance of a First Nations player thriving in the NHL at that time. For the ’94 Canucks fan, this means appreciating that Gino’s legacy isn’t confined to the Pacific Coliseum—it ripples into classroom visits, Indigenous empowerment, and cultural pride.
Johnston and Leech don’t hide any of Gino's troubled life. The book honours Gino’s achievements and character, but also gives the reader access to the human behind the myth—his mistakes, vulnerabilities and complexity. He had significant health, mental health and substance abuse issues for sure. A riveting read for the reasons above, yes—but also one that yields sorrow and hope in equal measure. Reviewers call it “nuanced, heart-warming and unsettling” in the way it confronts both triumph and tragedy.
If you’re a Canucks fan who cheers especially for that gritty, heartfelt 1994 team, Gino offers more than memories—it gives understanding. Understanding of how a player often overlooked on the score sheet became the emotional heartbeat of the team, how his friendship with Pavel Bure added dimension, and how his Indigenous identity and community work made him a leader beyond the rink.
One thing is for sure - after you read this book, the next time you are watching Gino Odjick fight videos on YouTube or hear the Gino! Gino! Gino! chant at the rink, you will have a far deeper appreciation of Vancouver's most popular athletes.
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