Want to know a cool story about Alex Delvecchio?

Well, let me take you back to the early 1970s in the Motor City. There was a kid gearing up for another summer playing baseball in the Police Athletic League (PAL), but the dude’s glove was shredded, his bat was cracked and the spikes were about two sizes too small.

And money was tight, with his single mom raising three kids.

Delvecchio, though, came up with an idea: He told the kid to go to Olympic Sporting Goods and get whatever baseball equipment he needed.

“Tell them to put it on my account,” he declared.

That kid was me. So, I took the city bus to the store on Livernois Avenue and left the place with all sorts of stuff – including a sweet Cesar Cedeno glove.

Thanks, Alex.

Delvecchio, the Detroit Red Wings legend and hockey Hall of Famer, died on July 1 at 93, prompting a flood of personal memories.

He was a true hero to me.

I grew up about 10 blocks from Olympia. When I was around 10, I wandered there routinely on Saturday mornings to watch the Red Wings practice, the access first granted by Art, a security guard who figured that I meant no harm.

One thing sure led to another. They gave me skates, and I learned how to use them after Red Wings practices (Gary Bergman taught me how to skate backward). Of course, after expending all of that energy, the kid welcomed rides home.

Thanks, Alex.

Then there was that period when Delvecchio, for 12 years the team captain, was pressed into becoming the head coach and ultimately the GM. These were tough times for the Wings. But he tried. And during my high school years in the mid-1970s, he came up with another idea for me: He gave me an after-school “job” as a gopher helping out Kathy Best, the public relations secretary.

I’d run invoices over to concessions. Pick up the mail. Stuff press releases into envelopes. Pass out stats in the press box.

And for this “job” that was off the books, as they say, Alex paid me cash out of his pocket.

Thanks, Alex.

Trust me, it helped. Yet the more essential perk from that experience around the Red Wings at Olympia Stadium was that it exposed to me a whole new world and industry, which led to me pursuing a career in journalism.

There were so many supportive people from that era. In addition to Kathy, players like Henry Boucha and Jimmy Rutherford were awesome to chat with. Marcel Dionne? He didn’t speak much (if any) English during his rookie year, but while horsing around with me on the ice one day he inadvertently taught me a hockey ‘survival skill’ by pulling my jersey over my head. Looking back, the idea of Dionne getting into a skirmish is hilarious, because during his Hall of Fame career he didn’t fight nobody!

The trainer, Lefty Wilson, was also special. When I went through a phase of skipping school, flunking classes at Northwestern High and showing up to Olympia during school hours, Lefty made it an issue and demanded that I start bringing him my report cards. Needless to say, it helped get me back on track.

Yet it all started with Alex, who they used to call “Fats.” He won three Stanley Cup crowns with the Red Wings during the 1950s, earned 13 NHL All-Star appearances, centered the “Production Line II” with Gordie Howe and Ted Lindsay, making his mark as an awesome assist agent that set up the prolific goal scorers. Fittingly, he also won the Lady Byng Trophy three times for, well, classy conduct.

And while it’s not on his NHL resume, Alex was also the first person to let me take their car alone after I got my driver’s license – something my momma was not signing up for.

With Alex, working into the night as GM, it basically involved me driving to Burger Chef for hamburgers … and then maybe a joy ride.

 Thanks, Alex.

We can all have the power to impact another person’s life in some form or fashion. As I reflect on Alex, I am compelled to share some of these memories to illustrate just how much of a difference he made for me.

Like my sophomore year at Michigan State (thanks, Earvin “Magic” Johnson), when I decided to study abroad in a mass media program at the University of London. I put together scholarships, grants and a loan to handle the tuition, room-and-board and the travel.

Yet the broke college student didn’t have squat to pay for daily personal expenses, like, uh, fish and chips, splurging at the Hard Rock Cafe or hanging out at Ronnie Scott’s jazz club. 

Well, Alex made that happen. He hired me to work for a month at his engraving business, Alex Delvecchio Enterprises, putting me on a project to help him (with his sleeves rolled up) make signage for the relatively new Renaissance Center. It allowed to me earn enough to handle the personal expenses in England.

Thanks, Alex.

When I had no one else to turn to in the clutch, he dished off another amazing assist.

Forever grateful. RIP, Alex.