Paulie and Kevin in The Athletic!

by Josh Yohe

BOSTON — Kevin Stevens still walks like he skated, barging full-steam ahead. On a chilly April evening in Boston, Stevens walks with a purpose past the old site of the Boston Garden, where he once made the most famous prediction in Pittsburgh sports history.

As Stevens enters TD Garden, a couple of Penguins fans recognize the big man and point in his direction. Stevens smiles at them and then offers another prediction.

“The B’s aren’t playing well,” he said, knowing the Penguins hadn’t won in Boston since 2014. “The Pens will win tonight.”

As usual, his prediction is correct, as the Penguins emerge with a 4-1 victory. Thirty years earlier, the Penguins beat the Bruins by that exact score in Game 3 of the Wales Conference final, two days following his iconic prediction that the Penguins would win four straight games after falling behind 2-0 in that series.

Stevens is no stranger to accurate predictions but isn’t quite ready to make one about the remainder of his life. Addiction doesn’t give one the ability to gaze too far into the future, and the past year has been hell for anyone with addiction issues. A pandemic, a lockdown, isolation and a history of addiction isn’t an ideal mix for Stevens these days — “pretty brutal,” he says.

Yet he’s still alive, still barging forward. That final prediction isn’t yet one he’s sure about, however. But he smiles when thinking about it.

“Good question,” Stevens said when asked where he sees his life a few years from now. “Really good. I’m just glad I’m still here.”

One day later, Stevens stands inside a Starbucks about 20 miles south of Boston in the swanky town of Hingham, Mass.

Signs of wealthy society — the one Stevens used to belong to — are around him: Men wearing tailored suits, women in expensive yoga pants carrying Louis Vuitton purses, children staring at their iPhones in a trance, and finely groomed poodles at every turn.

Stevens doesn’t notice any of it, not until three men in motorcycles pull into the parking lot.

“Those guys better be careful,” he said, his Boston accent as thick as ever. “They might get arrested driving motorcycles in this neighborhood.”

Stevens used to be wealthy, of course. There are still remnants of it in his daily behavior.

“Put your money away,” Stevens says, as it’s time to order. “I’ve got it.”

His sister chuckles at this story.

“That’s the thing about Kev,” said Kelli Wilson, his big sister and life coach. “He doesn’t realize he doesn’t have $20 million in the bank anymore. But he’ll never change. Wants to take care of everybody.”

For the longest time, he wanted to take care of everybody but himself. Finally, as the arrests and the addictions mounted, Stevens learned the lesson all addicts must: Take care of yourself first, and everyone else second. It’s counterintuitive to so many people in the big-hearted community, and make no mistake, Stevens is a charter member.

“What an unbelievable guy he is,” former Penguins general manager Jim Rutherford said.

Now, Stevens finally understands the idea of putting himself first.

“This addiction thing,” he said, his voice offering almost a hint of embarrassment, “is a daily thing. I have to put being sober first every day, before everyone else in my life. That’s what I’m doing now.”

The past 13 months have been the toughest test of all. Before the pandemic struck, Stevens had numerous in-person support-group meetings every week.

They were working.

“Those meetings save people’s lives,” Wilson said. “And they are so important to Kev.”

The pandemic put an immediate halt to the meetings.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, shaking his head. “Let me tell you something, and it’s the truth. Zoom isn’t the same as in person. Zoom is good. I’m glad it exists. But when you’re on your computer, and there’s a game on in the background, your mind always drifts back to hockey a little bit. I miss the in-person meetings.”

Stevens, who turns 56 today, has been clean for nearly five years. A federal judge took mercy on him in 2017, sentencing him to probation after Stevens admitted to selling oxycodone in Massachusetts. One final assist from Mario Lemieux — a letter asking a federal judge to spare Stevens from jail time — may have done the trick. From that point on, Stevens has been clean, loyal to the Penguins, loyal to his family, and above all, loyal to himself.

Even during a pandemic.

“Oh, you still get urges to go back to your old way of life, the drugs,” Stevens said. “You do. But the longer you go being clean, you get better and better. You know what it is? You’ve got to work at it. If you want to say it’s over, and that your life is going to improve, you’ve got to work at it, make it a priority. Let me tell you, if you don’t put being sober first, it won’t be second, third or fourth. It’ll be about 10th. And I know it. During this past year, it’s been harder than ever for a lot of people. But I can’t stop now. I can’t stop working at it. It feels good, to be honest.”

During the most difficult moments of the past year, Stevens focused even more intently on his children. Nothing gives him more pride than speaking of Luke, Kylie, Ryan and Hunter.

Luke and Ryan are hockey players — Luke is a forward with Wilkes-Barre/Scranton in the Penguins organization after playing at Yale, where Ryan is currently a forward. Kylie just got a good job in New York City. Hunter is only 6, and when his name is mentioned, the big man smiles.

“I’m so proud of all four of them,” Stevens said. “I’m really lucky. (Fallon, Stevens’ girlfriend) is a great mom to Hunter. Suzanne (his ex-wife) is a great mom. She lives five minutes away and we still have a really good relationship. Having good people in your family is an important thing and, when you’re struggling, it keeps you going.”

On days when he might not feel like going to rehab, he does it anyway. His children are the biggest reason.

“And thank God the in-person meetings are starting again,” he said. “A group of us have been getting together and talking, supporting each other, working our way through all the bullshit day by day. It’s been a really good thing. The Zoom meetings did the job as well as they could. And I’m not going to miss one meeting, I’ll tell you that. I’m motivated.”

Staying busy and having a sense of structure is important for anyone dealing with addiction, even more so during the past year. Stevens is a full-time dad, for one thing.

“He’s always got Hunter, or driving to Yale to see Ryan play, or seeing the other kids,” Wilson said. “It’s a start.”

But really, those activities are just the start:

• He’s at most Bruins home games, scouting for the Penguins, and scouting college players in New England.

• Stevens remains deeply active with his foundation, Power Forward. The nonprofit specializes in helping people who are struggling with addiction and is now helping fund living arrangements for addicts so they can work on battling addiction in safe places.

• For some side work, Stevens is even an athletic trainer now. Well, sort of.

Kevin Stevens, back, with Paul Veneto and Becca Pizzi. (Courtesy of Kelli Wilson)

One of Stevens’ best friends is a man named Paul Veneto. On Sept. 11, 2001, Veneto was supposed to be a flight attendant on Flight 175, which was the second plane to crash into the World Trade Center. A late schedule change gave Veneto a different assignment. Veneto lived, but quickly went into a tailspin in the aftermath. He’s been clean since 2015.

“He and Kev are so close now,” Wilson said. “To Kev’s kids, Paul is Uncle Paulie. He’s a good man, and he and Kev are fighting this together.”

As a tribute to those who lost their lives almost 20 years ago, Veneto is pushing an airline food cart from Logan Airport in Boston to the World Trade Center site, with his arrival set for Sept. 11, 2021.

“Kev is working as his trainer right now,” Wilson said with a laugh. “It’s something else. They were drug buddies once upon a time. That’s how they met. It’s what they had in common. Now they’re getting sober together and working hard at it every day. And it’s a great thing for both of them. Stuff that keeps Kev busy is so important and I’m just so proud of him. He’s helping people every single day with his foundation, and that’s what he loves to do. But along the way, he’s doing great things for himself, too.”

For the first time in almost 30 years — Stevens first did cocaine on March 4, 1993, in a New York City club, two nights after Lemieux made his famous return from cancer in Philadelphia — the Penguins legend feels like his life is finally headed in a good direction. Sobriety feels good, Stevens said. His family is well. And he’s working for the Penguins. It’s his third stint as a scout, the other two clouded by his inability to stay sober.

“Mario keeps giving me chances,” Stevens said. “Third time he’s given me a job. And he’ll never know how much I appreciate it.”

Those who have worked with Stevens in recent years appreciate him mightily.

“He’s actually an exceptional scout,” Craig Patrick said. “He has a great feel for the game. And it’s hard not to like him.”

No one will ever disagree with that observation.

“Put me in that category,” Rutherford said. “Just a wonderful guy, and he was a big part of our staff when I was the general manager in Pittsburgh. He was so professional. Always worked so hard. Found John Marino for us. Always handled himself with class. I know that he’s been through a lot, and we were always subconsciously aware of it. But he’s been on the right path for a while now. He’s a good man.”

His Penguins family always has Stevens’ back.

“I hear from a lot of the guys I played with all the time, every month,” Stevens. “Just got off the phone with Rick Tocchet. They call to check on me. I love those guys. It’s actually pretty cool that I still work for the Pens. There’s no other team I’d like to see win than them. That’s my team.”

Others check in with Stevens’ sister to make sure he’s on the right path.

“I hear from people all the time,” she said. “People who care about him. Mark Recchi. Johnny Cullen. Ray Shero. All the time. Kevin is a good man with a bad disease. That’s just the way it is. But you know what? He’s winning right now. He’s fighting so hard and he’s doing amazing things for other people and for himself. I check on him every day, but it’s a delicate thing. I don’t want to smother him. But he’s been great and he’s been pretty vulnerable about it lately. Imagine that — big, tough Kevin Stevens being vulnerable? But he does sometimes. He’s my big goon, my teddy bear. Just a good man who is doing special things with his life.”

But there’s still that final prediction of where Stevens’ life goes from here. He’d love to see his boys reach the NHL, of course. He’d like to keep scouting with the Penguins for a while longer, too.

“I’m just not sure,” he said. “Then, there’s Hunter. He’s only 6. Christ, I might be dead by the time he’s in college.”

Stevens lets out one of his patented belly laughs after making that comment.

Then, as he walks toward his pickup truck surrounded by all the convertibles of Hingham he once drove, Stevens turns serious for a moment.

“I hope not,” he said. “I hope I’m around for a long time.”

There is a child to raise, a hockey team to remain intensely loyal to, and people to help. Most of all, himself.

“I really do hope I’m working for the Penguins for a long time,” he said. “I think about Pittsburgh a lot, you know. Best times of my life. I’m loyal to that place, to the fans there, to the organization, to Mario. I feel like I owe to everyone to keep doing good things.”

For the first time in a long time, Stevens admits to being happy. Pandemic be damned.

“It’s been rough,” he said. “But I feel like I’ve gotten through it.”

And with that, the big man barges away.

“Life is OK right now,” he says as he walks into the Massachusetts afternoon. “I’m happy. I am. I’m getting there.”