Cliquez ici pour le français

Denis Carbonneau:
The Short History of My Brother Guy

by Denis Carbonneau with Jean Bouchard
for Montréal 7 Jours, December 30, 1995
posted April 25, 2001

Guy Carbonneau is not the type to look for unanimity, as he reiterated to me last summer. "Probably half the Canadiens fans are happy to see me go, and the rest disagree." As for me, I always appreciated Carbo. Quickly I perceived beneath a certain coolness—attributable to natural shyness and reserve—profound sincerity and honesty. I could confirm this again, in visiting him this summer, merely from the way he behaves with his daughters. Always present without being pushy, now to play, now to express his fatherly authority with gentleness.

Two years ago, I briefly met with his brother Denis. Two years Guy’s junior, he was occupied with the promotion of his golf tournament, the Omnium of St. Raphael, from which the profits go to research children’s diseases. The two brothers resemble each other. When I returned to see them this summer, the idea for this conversation was born. Who better than a close brother to draw a true and unedited portrait? This is what Denis did here with his brother Guy Carbonneau.

My father, Charles-Aimé, left Lévis at 23 years old to sell his small truck—a Big Bertha, as he called it—to his two brothers at Sept-Îles. He stayed there for good. He met Mary Ferguson, they were married and had five children. Today, Marcel is 37, Guy, 35, me, 33, Anne, 32, and Robert, 30.

In 1960, when Guy was born, Sept-Îles spread along the sea and numbered 4,000 inhabitants. The town was booming; it peaked at 30,000 people at the beginning of the 80s. We grew up in nature. Hockey was the activity most prevalent, but cultural life was not too rich. Twenty years later, I went back to do improvisational theater. Apparently, Guy has remained faithful to his first love, hockey, and that has been a bigger success than my theatrical career!

A Refrigerated Conspiracy

In Sept-Îles, we had a wonderful childhood with our family and our cousins, the Fergusons. When Guy was around 9, our father had a huge refrigerated truck for delivering ice cream. Sometimes in high summer, Guy and I would put on our snowmobile suits, and with a flashlight, we would hide ourselves in the truck to eat popsicles. We had many unforgettable experiences together, but there are three in particular which illustrate well the recklessness of my brother and his high tolerance for pain.

An Unlucky Daredevil

I have never know a guy so unlucky as my brother Guy. When he was young he had all sorts of incredible adventures. I remember a summer day when it was very hot. With our cousins, we were riding down a gravel incline on a bike so big we had to slide our legs on the horizontal bar. This was not a very comfortable position, and you couldn’t have perfect control of the bike. We took turns going down the hill, each trying to surpass the performance of the other. The longer we went, the higher we climbed and the faster we descended. All of a sudden, Guy said to us, "I’m going to beat you all." He climbed to the highest point, about 125 feet, and threw himself down the hill with nothing for protection but a bathing suit (suntan lotion was not yet in vogue!) Arriving at the bottom with great speed, the handlebars turned sideways, Guy lost control of the bike and made the worst landing imaginable in the little dry gravel. He was scratched up on most of his body. He still carries the marks of this memorable folly on his hips. When the five or six of us guys saw him land, we thought it was very funny. We were cramped up with laughter during which time Guy suffered like a martyr, but barely showed it. He got up with his patented little smile. Later, while we were drinking, he lay himself down in the river to cool his wounds, which were burning. My mother had to drag him by force to the hospital, and when he left there, he looked like a mummy! All you could see was his eyes through the bandages.

A Plunge into the Void

Another time, on a very rainy day, we amused ourselves by jumping off a plateau 40 feet in the air into a tuft of fir trees, which absorbed our fall 15 feet lower, after which we would rebound from tree to tree until we hit the ground.

Once again, Guy, with his legendary temerity, threw us a "Watch this!" He had decided to display to us a new exploit. But in diving, he missed the tree, hung by his hands from a branch, and from there made a drop of 40 feet. Again, we were dying of laughter. We shouted to him to come back up and to not act like a granny. We thought he had fallen on a foam cushion, but no! He had crashed on a tree trunk. He was in extremes between laughter and tears, and for good reason—he had fractured his wrist. He always had the gift to want to exceed his limits and give himself greater challenges than others.

Stainless Steel Shoulders

He has also developed a tolerance for suffering beyond the norm. I have the impression that, in the face of pain, he is able to observe himself from outside his body. He looks at himself coldly and notes simply: "Yeah, that’s bad." During his years in juniors, Guy always had dislocated shoulders. It often happened that he went to the bench with one shoulder lower than the other and to replace it as if it were nothing. Finally, he had to have surgery: the doctors reattached his bones with stainless steel.

A Great Talent for Sports

Guy can be infuriating at times, especially when he measures himself against you in a sport. You can play ping-pong every day for three years, when, all of a sudden, he plays with you for the first time: the first match is close, he succeeds in giving you a fun game; and in the second, he beats you. It’s frustrating. I remember one day, when he was about 12…we were playing soccer, and a little ways off, two guys were training for the pole vault. From time to time, Guy cast his eye in their direction: he was intrigued by what they were doing. Finally he approached them to give it a try. Two weeks later he participated in qualifications for the regional championships and beat the guys who taught him.

A Guy Who Knows His Priorities

Guy know perfectly what he likes and what he doesn’t like. He accepts very well being approached by people when he feels their sincerity, but he detests above anything all the bores who just want to profit from his fame. If he senses you aren’t sincere, you could offer him the moon, it won’t get you anywhere. On the other hand, if you respect him, he’ll give you plenty of freedom to come and go in his world. He’s not a chatterbox, but he always answers questions. If you want to enter his world, he’s happy to accommodate you, but for him to come into yours, you must invite him and then pull the cord a little.

Our Relation

It’s based on mutual respect. And that comes from our father. It’s true of all the sons of Charles-Aimé Carbonneau. A respected man in the Côte-Nord. Since forever, he has instituted in us a respect for him and for others. Between Guy and me, this relationship is fundamental. This does not prevent us from having animated discussions from time to time. I am more extroverted than him, I have a more "sparkling" personality and less self-control. Guy is also very generous. It’s necessary to know him. He’s reserved, he loves peace, but he responds quickly to a sincere request for help. Everyone who knows him loves him at 100 miles an hour!

A Beautiful Love Story

Without Line and the children, I don’t know what he’d do. He certainly wouldn’t have become what he is today. Line is a super woman. She has discipline, a sense of duty and rigor. To use an image, I say that Line holds the compass. She knows where north is and respects its limits. After the "misadventure of the finger," she was furious; she could speak to Guy with authority. They have immense mutual respect.

I can say in a certain way, I envy my brother for his success, his courage, his material ease—I know meanwhile that he would like to be as talkative as me and have my freedom of movement. But, bottom line, what I envy the most about Guy—and it delights me at the same time—is to see him succeed in his career as well as his family life.