Longtime Philadelphia Flyers defender Chris Therien released a book sharing untold stories from his hockey career, including his private battle with addiction.

In Philadelphia Flyers orange and black, defenseman Chris Therien cut an imposing figure on the ice, a stalwart physical presence for over a decade in the NHL. 

But by the end of his playing career, he was concealing a much greater battle with alcoholism, which bled into his professional and family life.

The book Chris Therien: Road to Redemption, written by Therien with longtime Flyers beat reporter Wayne Fish, chronicles this struggle. In it, the player and former TV/radio hockey analyst opens up completely and candidly, reflecting on his life and career with perspective gained from more than 10 years of sobriety. Therien takes readers from the blueline to the broadcast booth, sharing untold stories from life in pro hockey while laying bare his private struggle with addiction.

Book excerpt: Chapter 1 – The Decision

Although it happened more than 10 years ago, I remember the moment like it was yesterday.

Life-changing events have a way of staying fresh in your memory and this one will never fade from mine. Much of my adult life had been spent secretly battling a silent demon, one shared by millions of people but each struggle unique in its own way.

It took an act as simple as cleaning an upstairs closet for me to come to grips with a harsh reality.

I was an alcoholic.

While rummaging through clothes and the like, I came upon a shoe with a water bottle jammed inside it. Only the bottle wasn’t half-filled with water.

It was vodka.

I stared at the bottle for a moment, then gulped down its contents and threw the bottle in the trash.

There are two birthdates in my life: The first, Dec. 14, 1971, when I officially entered this world and the second, Feb. 7, 2011 – the day of the infamous shoe incident – when I became the person I truly believe I was meant to be.

It took me decades to come to the reality I could be comfortable in my own skin without dulling my senses through various outside means.

We all make choices in life and I’m no exception. Some of my decisions were good; others – like acquiring and accepting an addiction to alcohol – were not.

Whether you become a professional athlete like I did or just someone who lives a so-called less glamorous existence, it’s all pretty much the same when it comes to personal responsibility. We don’t reside on an island. We have people who depend on us, people who we want to set a good example for, both in our public and private lives.

There was a long period in my adult years when I failed at that. It hurt to know I was letting myself down by not functioning at full capacity and even more painful that I was doing the same with the people I love.

As I alluded to earlier, just about every alcoholic can tell you the date he decided to give it all up. Mine was that day in early 2011 with an act as mundane as sorting out an upstairs closet.

My first step on the road to redemption might have taken place on a train ride back from New York City where the Flyers had played the Rangers in a Sunday night game.

By this point in time I was retired as a player and sharing the Flyers’ radio broadcast booth with play-by-play man Tim Saunders.

Craig Berube, a Flyers assistant coach in those days, walked up the aisle to my seat on the train.

“Hey,’’ he said, “can I talk to you for a second?’’

Berube’s stern expression told me this was something pretty serious.

“Sure,’’ I said. I knew Craig had my best interests in mind and that he’s not judgmental in a business that can have a lot of whispers and rumors.

Chief, as he is called affectionately by teammates and opponents alike, looked me straight in the eye.

“One of the coaches may have smelled booze on your breath over the past couple days,’’ he said. Quickly, I admitted I had been drinking.

“Keep an eye out,’’ Berube said. “Because people are probably watching.’’

That was the same night my friend, Ben, picked me up upon returning to Philadelphia. It was snowing pretty hard as we set out for my home in New Jersey.

As we approached my town, I turned to him and instructed him to stop at the start of a dirt road near my house. I told him to pull over at a certain point on the dirt road, set the trip odometer back to zero.

The area was deserted. I had left a bottle of red wine hiding in the woods. As soon as the car got to about a quarter-mile, I told Ben to stop the vehicle. I got out with my dress shoes and dress pants on and trudged through eight inches of snow. Ben had no idea what I was doing. I reached in and grabbed a brand new bottle of Carlo Rossi wine.

Cheap stuff, but it was going to get me through the night.

At that point, I hadn’t really heeded Chief’s advice seriously or that the (assistant) coach who had probably detected the offending odor on me was Hall of Famer Joey Mullen, whom I love.

I remember getting back to the house about 12:30 a.m. and drinking that bottle of wine. In the next couple days, I talked to Chief again. I had dried out to a certain degree; I had tried to stop in 2006 when I was a complete mess. The difference leading up to the moment of truth was that I had medication that would help me with the withdrawal. That’s why the times of sobriety in between relapses apparently lasted longer.

The medication had helped prevent me from suffering through the “shakes’’ and all the symptoms that alcohol brought to me before. The pills and the meds that I had used before were working. But they essentially were a crutch. I was allowing myself a reason to keep drinking. But to me, I did recognize it was still a major problem.

I knew that even though Craig had confronted me in a professional and very teammate-like manner, I already was aware this was the end of the line. I was tired and this time I was really tired of being like this and trying to chase the day – every single day – like this... of being a good father, husband, person and a productive member of society.

At this point, I knew I had to stop for good. The difference this time was I called (then) general manager Paul Holmgren, a recovering alcoholic himself who was in good health after seeking help.

I said, “you know what, Paul, I’ve really been struggling again. I’m really going to put myself in the AA (Alcoholics Anonymous) community. I’m going to be a really big member. I want to thank you for the help you’ve given me over the years and the support you’ve had for me. It’s been extraordinary. You will never, ever hear about me drinking again because I never will.’’

Paul was really supportive. I’m truly grateful for that. That was the beginning of 11 years of continued sober broadcasting in good standing. It really got my feet under me. I became the great dad, the person I always wanted to be.

I started going to AA everyday. It’s where I met my “little brother’’ Rick Halverson, my sponsor. He is sponsored by Holmgren, and so we have a nice little community of guys who lean on each other. I realized the first time I decided to stay sober was when I chose to remain with the AA people. There were 120 meetings in 90 days.

Let’s go back to Feb. 7, 2011, for a moment.

I was up in my room cleaning out my closet. In that aforementioned shoe, I found the water bottle with the vodka in it. I knew what it was before I opened it. I had hidden it as every alcoholic seems to hide his liquor for whatever reason. It was an embarrassment. I saw that, took that bottle and I swigged that last one and a half ounces of vodka.

That was my farewell, that was the end. That was the last time I ever used alcohol. I bid it goodbye. I rinsed the bottle out and threw it in the trashcan. The last day Chris Therien ever touched a sip of alcohol was Feb. 7, 2011. That began the greatest 11-year journey of my adult life. And it was certainly the most meaningful because it wasn’t just about me anymore. It was about my family and specifically my kids getting a dad that was all-in. All-in on being a parent, doing all the right things I had wanted to do.

There was nothing I wanted more in this world than being a good dad. And I was sure not going to let these kids down. Nor my wife, Diana, who has done such a great job raising them.

My second chance at life was about to begin.