From the Sports Illustrated vault, I found this classic on the Esposito brothers from March 29, 1971. With Chicago and Boston in the Stanley Cup Final, it seems fitting to recall the days when Phil tried to beat Tony, and visa versa.
The story, written by Jack Olsen, features this opener:
In the arena seats an attractive dark-haired lady pummeled her husband’s arm in a frenzy of partisan excitement. “Come on, Phil! Come on! Come on!” On the ice below her a bulky hockey player in the uniform of the Boston Bruins executed a rink-long rush with the inexorability of a high-speed freight train. Seconds later he shot. The puck went into the net, the light flashed on over the Chicago goal and the lady’s expression changed completely. “Why, that dirty rat,” she said. “He scored on his brother!”
The anguished lady was Mrs. Pat Esposito of Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario. The player who made the goal was her No. 1 son, Phil Esposito (see cover), the highest-scoring player in NHL history. The sprawled and (momentarily) defeated goalie was her No. 2 son, Tony, one of hockey’s finest goaltenders and the holder of a few records of his own.
For Mrs. Esposito, hockey games between the Bruins and the Black Hawks have become exercises in agony. The last time her heavyset steelworking husband Pat took her to see Chicago play Boston she opted instead to sit out the game in a hotel room watching Art Carney score on Jackie Gleason.
Later, Phil Esposito reveals there is no love between the future Hall of Fame brothers when they are on the ice.
Brother Phil touched his lucky turtleneck shirt, patted the medal stitched inside his thigh pads, blew a kiss in the direction of the inverted horns and the four-leaf clover over his locker, carefully uncrossed a couple of crossed hockey sticks down the row and said, “My brother is my best friend and the greatest goalie in hockey, but when we get on the ice he’s not my brother, he’s just another goaltender we have to beat.”
Bas-reliefs of both brothers stand at two approaches to their hometown. “Welcome to Sault Ste. Marie, the home of the Esposito brothers,” the plaques say. Heroes to the hometowners, Tony and Phil are also heroes to each other. But their relationship is far more complex than mere hero worship. It is a curious mixture of old-country Neapolitan warmth, sibling rivalry and all-out war.
“My name is Phil,” says Phil Esposito heatedly. “Don’t call me bleeping Tony.” Phil saw several shades of heliotrope last month when the California Golden Seals’ program listed the leading NHL scorer as “Tony Esposito.” “Ain’t that a new high in stupidity?” Phil announced. “They’ve made my brother the highest-scoring goalie in hockey history.”