Caitlin Neil knows part of her husband’s job is to punch and be punched to the point where on some nights his face is a bloody mess, a roadmap of stitches that number too many to remember.

Her husband, Senators winger Chris Neil, has had 50 stitches to patch up a laceration on his calf, a broken jaw, broken nose and meniscus tears.

With his hair cropped close to his head, he’s got a gap-toothed grin, a hockey player’s smile — minus a couple of teeth that have been removed by knuckle sandwiches. He’s slugged it out with some of the NHL’s most feared pugilists — hardheads like George Parros, Donald Brashear, Colton Orr, Milan Lucic and Zdeno Chara.

There’s a life-sized photo of the alternate captain on the outside wall of Canadian Tire Centre. Above is the French word courageux ... translation, fearless. Chris Neil, 34, is a gladiator, a leader, a man among men, a warrior who will do anything, ANYTHING, it takes to win.

It’s the hazards of his occupation, as an eager participant in hockey’s version of the sweet science, that worry his wife.

“I hate fighting. It’s still my husband out there,” she says. “I’m afraid Chris is going to get hurt. When he had his calf sliced open, that was scary when you find out had it been a bit to one side, he could have severed a nerve and never walked or played hockey again. I have to pray he’s going to be OK. As far as the little nicks, a cut here, a cut there, go, we’re used to it. The kids don’t get freaked out anymore.”

While a guy who’s considered a huge chunk of the soul of the Senators has made a comfortable living out of his fists, he’s much more than a fighter. He’s a man of faith who met his wife in church. He’s a prankster with a goofy side. He’s a family man who loves being a dad, with a huge soft spot for children.

“The kids will have left and he’s still putting together Lego or the puzzle,” says Caitlin. “He gets down on the floor and builds forts with them. He says ‘I love you’ to them ... every day.”

“I’m a gentle guy with my kids,” says Chris. “That’s just my demeanour. But once I put that jersey on, I’ll do whatever I can to win that hockey game, do whatever I can for the team.”

To understand Chris Neil the hockey player, you need to understand who he is and where he came from — a small-town boy who square danced with a plaid shirt and bandana around his neck, a kid who followed his mom to church on Sundays.

WHERE IT STARTED

Welcome to Flesherton, The Gateway to Beaver Valley, population 700, 140 km northwest of Toronto. Located at the junction of Hwy. 10 and Grey County Rd. 4, it’s a walking village where everybody knows everybody. There’s a post office, a library, an arena, a couple of churches, a cemetery and one set of stoplights.

Chris was born at the 14-bed Markdale Hospital, mid-afternoon on June 18, 1979. But it was 10 km away, in Flesherton, where he first walked, talked and skated. Chris says: “When I go back, it’s like I never left.”

The Neils — Bonnie, Barry and their kids Dan, Jeff, Jason and Chris — lived on a 100-acre farm. Barry was an electrician, Bonnie a hairdresser. They raised beef cattle and had horses. When Chris was 10, the family left the farm and moved into town.

The brothers piled into a car and went to the rink with Barry, a defenceman who played competitively until he was 34.

“Of all the kids, we had the hardest time making Chris stick with it,” says Barry. “I gave him an ultimatum one day at the rink. I said, ‘If you come over and whine one more time, I’m just going to leave you here.’ He came back. So I went home. I did come back and pick him up.

“A week later, his coach said, ‘I don’t know what you did with that kid — he went from not wanting anything to do with hockey, now he’s great.’ He went from not wanting to be there — his skates are too tight, it was too cold, all the excuses in the book — and all of a sudden, he caught on and away he went.”

Always with a twinkle in his eye, Chris had a mischievous side.

“The ladies used to come to the farm to get their hair done,” says Barry. “We had a family friend, Eleanor. Chris would always be trying to scare her. He knew she hated cats. He always brought the cat in and sat it on her lap when she was under the hairdryer. She still talks about it.”

One time, one of the boys got a new tent for his birthday. Bonnie set it up in the backyard. The brothers chuckle as they recall the turn of events.

“Dan got in the tent and started beating Chris up,” says Jason. “We heard the sliding door open.”

Jeff continues: “Mom came out and said: ‘What the hell is going on?’ She grabbed a broom. Anything that moved in that tent got whacked. Dan had gotten out. Chris was still inside. It was like that (Whack a Mole) game.”

Then there was school.

“I was in Grade 5 and got into some trouble,” says Chris. “My principal asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I told him I wanted to play in the NHL. He still tells that story. It’s comical now. I had that mindset right from when I was a kid that was what I wanted to do. I just had that drive to make it to where I have.”

The Neil boys played with GI Joes and Tonka trucks and all those wonderful boyhood distractions, but mostly — there was hockey.

The three oldest brothers were teammates in a senior league, all with good scrapping skills. Chris would watch — and learn — and hope someday to get his chance.

Bonnie pushed her youngest boy. She’d drive the family’s burgundy Ford Taurus station wagon close behind while he ran — and ran some more.

“Chris was a bit of a mama’s boy, but she was tough on him, too,” says Jason.

A FAMILY MAN

Sitting at a table in The Flying Spatula, a Flesherton restaurant, Jeff, a 45-year-old real estate agent for Royal LePage, and 38-year-old Jason, who still live in the area (Dan, 43, lives in Almonte), take playful jabs at their youngest brother: “While everybody was doing the farmwork, Chris was in the house baking cookies. He could knit sweaters and I think he crocheted, too.” The guffaws echo through the restaurant.

It’s just brothers being brothers — yukking it up, laughing about the egg fights in the barn, putting horseradish on each other’s potatoes, or Chris’ stirring his coffee, then putting the hot spoon on the back of an unsuspecting victim’s hands.

They may bust his chops, but they respect the hell out of their kid brother — proud of what he has done and who he has become.

LOCAL HERO

Inside the Flesherton Arena, there’s a sign, Home of Chris Neil.

There’s a display with a jersey and some photos. Outside, there’s a plaque, dedicated to Bonnie, who died in a single-car crash Nov. 22, 2005, just outside Owen Sound. Her death was devastating, more painful than any haymaker to the head could ever have been.

“There were tears shed,” says Chris. “It was a hard thing to swallow for our whole family. They say time always heals, but there’s not a day goes by I don’t think about her.”

A MAN OF FAITH

For all the mischief, all the shenanigans, there was another side, a belief and set of values that were instilled from a young age.

“I was always part of Vacation Bible School as a kid,” says Chris. “My mom had a very strong faith. We’d go to church. Sometimes she couldn’t go because she had to take the other kids to hockey and I’d ride my bike to church. It gave me something to believe in and something to look forward to every Sunday — to worship God.”

LOVE OF HIS LIFE

Chris and Caitlin, the daughter of John and Sheryll Sorensen, met in church, at The Bridge in Kanata, introduced by a mutual friend, Alyssa Doyle.

They went to lunch at Jack Astor’s as part of a large group of friends, then went to an ’80s night at Barrymore’s. The more they talked, the more Chris took a liking to the University of Ottawa Bachelor of Arts graduate who had grown up in Toronto.

“I got talking to her and was attracted,” says Chris. “We were able to click. I still remember I was newly dating and was back home with my mom (during the NHL lockout). I got a phone call, it was Cait calling. I remember pulling into a parking lot. I ran over the curb I was so nervous. My mom hit her knee off the dashboard, so she wasn’t real happy with me. But I knew Cait was the one for me.”

They were engaged within nine months and got married July 8, 2006, at Southminster United. Their first song at the reception was Rascal Flatts’ Bless The Broken Road.

They live in Carp and have three children: Hailey, 6, Cole, 4, and Finn, 2.

They also have Bailey, a nine-year-old lab, and Rudy, an eight-year-old cockapoo.

“I’ve always been the same person,” says Neil. “But Cait makes me a better person.”

OFF TO THE NORTH

Neil was drafted by the OHL’s North Bay Centennials in 1996 and when he made the team, Barry bought the teenager a Z24 Chevy Cavalier.

Junior hockey was a challenge, with Chris learning he had to step up to the plate with his fists.

“In minor hockey, he took a beating because he was our goal scorer,” says Barry. “He was a tenacious forechecker, but he never fought until North Bay. He was kind of forced into it. One night in Barrie, he got the living s--t beat out of him by Luch Nasato, a guy who wasn’t really a scrapper. He learned to scrap back.”

There would be few manhandlings after that. Chris pushed himself to get bigger and tougher.

“Every one of us used to beat him in an arm wrestle,” says Jeff. “But by his third year, it would take two of us to tackle him instead of one. He was a handful. He was getting strong.”

In 1997-98, Chris had 26 goals and 29 assists, along with 231 penalty minutes. The Senators drafted him in the sixth round (161st overall) in the 1998 draft.

“It was really exciting,” says Chris. “I had to wait a long time to hear my name called. But once I heard it, my brothers, my mom and dad, everybody, they were just as excited as I was. Coming down those steps in Buffalo, I hardly remember touching the floor to shake management’s hands.”

He got some early advice on punching his ticket to the NHL.

“My first NHL camp, I got sent down to minors,” says Chris. “Trevor Timmins pulled me aside and said, ‘If you want to get up here as quick as possible, go down and beat the crap out of everyone.’ I had to change my role to make it. You see a lot of good hockey players that don’t make it because they were trying to be a Top 6 forward. You have to have that good dynamic, different players on your team, to be successful.”

“When he went down to the Muskegon Fury, he took on the league tough guy (Jason Payne) and beat the living crap out of him,” says Barry. “The fans just went crazy when he floored that guy. After that, he owned Muskegon.”

Chris had shown he had a goal scorer’s touch in junior hockey, but his NHL high is 16 in 2005-06.

“When you’re a role player, they don’t let you step out of your role too much,” says Barry. “When Chris played for Jacques Martin, I remember one night he made an end-to-end rush, turned a defenceman inside out, put it through his feet and rang it off the crossbar. He got benched for that because that wasn’t what he was supposed to be doing.”

FIGHTING UP

Chris has never been the biggest kid. But he doesn’t duck challengers.

Stephane Quintal once drove his fist into Chris’ jaw, jarring loose half of one the Senators winger’s back teeth. Chris spit out the tooth and kept playing.

In another slugfest, Grant Marshall tagged him and knocked out another tooth.

Jesse Boulerice broke his jaw.

“Most of the time, guys are bigger than me,” says Chris. “I’m 6-foot-1, between 210 and 215 lbs. I’m going against guys who are 6-2, 6-3 ... 220, 230 lbs, so I’m always at a size disadvantage. You try and outsmart your opponents. You try to make them open up and do something they may not want to do. That’s why I’ve been around so long.”

“He’s not afraid of anyone,” says Senators teammate Matt Kassian. “He’s a smart technical fighter. One of the things he does well is he throws both hands.”

THE PRANKSTER

What you may not know about Chris Neil, the fighter, is that he’s also a Sudoku junkie. He’s handy around the house — he built a treehouse at the family cottage on Calabogie Lake. He has two cups of coffee before he gets to the rink each day. He loves music, just as likely to listen to AC/DC as his country favourites like Faith Hill, Tim McGraw or George Strait.

And he loves pranks.

“Sometimes, a guy’s wallet will get sewed into his back pocket,” he says. “We got Brian McGrattan. He couldn’t get his car keys out. I’ve had some good ones done to me. I’ve had my fake teeth painted with permanent marker. It was Magnus Arvedson. If you’re dishing it out, you’ve got to be able to take it.”

“Neiler’s done the same thing day in and day out since the day I got here,” says Senators captain Jason Spezza. “He’s a fun-loving guy, a guy you can wind up a bit.”

DOWN TO EARTH

There’s a dichotomy between what Chris Neil does on and off the ice. One moment, he’s looking to beat the bejeezus out of somebody. Then, he’s home sitting on a couch, smiling, laughing, watching Lego Batman or The Backyardigans, telling his wife and kids he loves them.

“Chris is perceived a certain way on the ice, but he’s not at all like that in person,” says Caitlin. “Honestly, he is so not like what people see in a hockey game. He is so laid back. But hockey is still a job. He has a role to play. That role evolved with what the Sens needed.”

Neil, who has played more than 800 NHL games, will make $2.1 million each of the next two seasons of a three-year contract. He’s moved into the NHL’s top 50 all-time penalty-minute list, but is anything but a goon.

“I just love the game, I can’t get enough of it,” says Chris. “I want to be remembered as a hard-nosed player, a competitive guy. I never quit, it doesn’t matter what the score is, whether we’re up or down. That’s how I want people to remember me.”

“Chris is a physical force, the tough guy on the team,” says Senators GM Bryan Murray.

“He’s also a good person, one of those guys younger players look up to. If you talk about ultimate character people, that’s Chris.

“If you could get a whole bunch of Chris Neil-types, people who care about the community, people who want to be here, you’d do that every day.”

Fighting and hockey are a big part of what Chris Neil is, but they won’t define who he is or measure how big a heart this small-town boy really has.

tim.baines@sunmedia.ca

Twitter: @timcbaines

SUN SURVEY RESULTS: YOUR SAY ON CHRIS NEIL

Do you think Chris Neil is worth his current three-year $5.75M contract?

Yes, he's been a great leader - 81% No, I think the Sens should have dealt him years ago - 19%

What part of Neil's game needs the most work?

Shooting - 45% Skating - 22% Passing - 17% Physicality - 9% Leadership - 7%

How would you rate Chris Neil's performance this season?

Good - 50% Excellent - 21% Fair - 20% Poor - 9%

Do you think Neil needs to fight more?

No - 81% Yes - 19%

Which line do you think Neil should play on?