Reggie Leach, the Rifle, shoots from the hip

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There were moments during the old-timers Native hockey tournament in Saskatchewan in March that he looked just like he did all those years ago-helmetless, hair flowing in the wake of a powerful stride. Just like back in the day when he patrolled right wing on the Stanley Cup championship Philadelphia Flyers.

But oh, how looks can deceive, because deep inside, The Rifle, Reggie Leach, is very much changed.

The 54-year-old was home on the Prairies to visit a couple of high schools in the North Battleford area and share a few stories about his life. He is hoping that the time he spent with the students there will help them avoid making the same mistakes he did.

Leach was one of the greatest players ever to suit up for the Flin Flon Bombers. He was born in Riverton, Man. in 1950, a member of the Barrens River (Ojibwa) First Nation.

First spotted by an NHL scout when he was just 13 years old, the boy who would later become known as 'The Rifle' because of the blistering slap shot, was drafted by the Boston Bruins in 1970. He played for four NHL teams in his 13-year pro career, but Leach is best remembered for his eight seasons with the Flyers-and especially for one magical year, 1975-76, in which he scored 19 goals in 16 playoff games, an NHL record that stands to this day.

But while Leach was enjoying great success on the ice, he was struggling in his personal life.

"I am an alcoholic, and I had a lot of problems with it when I was playing," Leach said. "In fact, I started drinking when I was 12 years old."

Leach has spent the past 10 winters traveling North America to speak with children in schools, and he does it entirely on his own dime.

He said his message has a special resonance with Native kids, as they face many of the same pressures that he faced while growing up.

"When people ask me about my junior career, they always ask me about racism," he said. "Because, back then, there weren't that many Natives in the league. But at 16 years old, I was already used to being called a 'dirty Indian' and everything like that, because I grew up in a Metis community.

"There were Icelanders and Ukrainians and all that in our town, and we had our little fights at times when they were calling names. So by the time I got to Flin Flon, it really didn't bother me."

Leach said he got into some fights on and off the ice in Flin Flon, because of racial epithets thrown his way. But he soon learned to regard them almost as a compliment.

"What I was always told by Pat Ginnell, my coach, was 'Don't mind the people in the stands, because if they're calling you names, you must be doing something right on the ice.'So I paid attention to what he said, and I tried to turn everything into a positive."

Leach doesn't feel his alcoholism resulted from the pressures he faced, either as a Native person or as a hockey player. He said during the 1970s, alcohol abuse was widespread throughout pro hockey and he simply let his drinking get out of control.

"I don't hide anything from the kids," he said. "Anything they ask me, I tell them the truth. I tell them how alcohol took control of me, how it cost me my marriage and ended up hurting my kids. It shortened my career, and it probably cost me a chance at getting into the Hall of Fame.

"If I hadn't been drinking I could have definitely played two or three more years, and I probably would have been in the Hall of Fame because I would have probably scored 400 goals and that mark will usually get you in. But instead I ended up with 381. But what happened, happened, and I explain to the kids that the reason I'm not in the Hall of Fame is because I made bad choices. And you have to live with those choices. Now I'm hoping some of these kids can learn from my mistakes.

"If I can get through to some of the kids, and have them listen to where I went wrong, then that will make a difference," he said. "I always say if I talk to a 1,000 kids and get a couple of them t listen, then I did my job."

One thing he doesn't preach, however, is total abstinence.

"I don't tell the kids not to drink, because they are going to try it," he said. "The main thing is they've got to make the right choices. Life is all about choices, and if you make the right ones, everything will go fine."

The key, as Leach sees it, is discipline. He said one of the main reasons many good young Native hockey players don't succeed is because they haven't had enough discipline along the way. Then when they face some adversity, they take the easy way out and quit.

"There are so many young Native kids who are talented hockey players," he said. "Yet when you look at how many Native players there are across Canada, we don't have nearly the percentage that we should have playing in the National Hockey League. And I think the reason is they just don't have the drive to get over to where you have to be to make it to that next level, whether it's semi-pro or the pros.

"People get mad at me for saying this, but this is what I feel. To me, it always seems like they're bailing out when the work gets too hard."

Leach acknowledges that it can be very difficult for Native kids to leave their reserves or home environment to live the life that junior hockey provides. But he stressed that if the dream is strong enough, and the discipline stronger, anything can be achieved.

He's living proof of that.

In the years since he quit drinking, Leach has found much to be thankful for. He's established strong relationships with his children, and watched with pride as son Jamie won two Stanley Cups with the Pittsburgh Penguins in the early 1990s. He beams with pride as he explained that he, Jamie and daughter Brandy all represented Canada at the national level-Reggie in the 1976 Canada Cup, Jamie at the junior nationals, and Brandy in women's lacrosse. All three, he said, wore number 28.

Leach has maintained strong ties with the Philadelphia Flyers organization, ad credits old friend and teammate Bobby Clarke for helping him get back on his feet. He continues to play for the Flyers alumni team, both in their regular scrimmages and at a various fundraisers.

"Only now they don't call me 'The Rifle'," Leach said with a laugh.

"I can't shoot the puck like I used to anymore. It's more like 'The Popgun' now."