The banter wouldn’t have been surprising to anyone who knew him well; under the right circumstances, Joe has always been a conversationalist. Cole was his roommate at MSU and remembers the dry humour Joe would jab with, often in smaller crowds. Luongo was more expansive, even eloquent, when contemplating his friend’s personality both on and off the ice. “I think he has an aspect of an artiste to him and to his game,” says Luongo, an assistant coach at MSU who played 218 NHL games. “And that was another thing that made him special, made him different and made him a curious study for guys like me, who would have been more black-and-white guys. What makes [certain players] excel and makes them great is the light just shines at a different angle on things. That’s going to have them be a little bit different off the ice.”

There’s no dancing around the fact that in conversation Joe’s frenetic, unsettled manner comes off as at least a bit unorthodox. One of his sneakers consistently flicked at the wicker table in front of us while we talked and he never remained in the same position long, instead constantly shifting his weight and gesturing with his arms. He bounced from topic to topic and there wasn’t always a clear through line between consecutive thoughts. His shorts exposed a sizable scrape on his right thigh and his body holds other signs of wear that remind you this is a person forced to bed down under bridges or in the brush. That he was once a dark-haired kid armed with some Irish charm, though, is still easy to believe. He remains a person who can be endearingly curious — asking about your background, if you played hockey, if you’re married. He can also sound like he just absorbed the entire sports section, as his analysis of Danny Green’s not-to-be-overlooked value in the Kawhi deal indicated. “When I have the TV and the Internet, I’m on top of it,” he says.

Tape to Tape Senior Writer Ryan Dixon and NHL Editor Rory Boylen always give it 110%, but never rely on clichés when it comes to podcasting. Instead, they use a mix of facts, fun and a varied group of hockey voices to cover Canada’s most beloved game.

For the past half-decade, amenities like that have been a luxury in Joe’s life. While his exact road map is tough to track, he spent significant time in multiple South and Central American countries before returning to Canada in the early summer of 2017. After that, a couple of arrests marked his path. He was charged with mischief for tossing a hotel room in Kingston, Ont., early last fall and, this past April, Joe was picked up for an assault charge in Sioux Lookout, Ont. that almost certainly led to him landing in Kenora, the hub for many things — including the legal system — in northwestern Ontario. Joe, who was already on probation from the mischief charge he pled guilty to, says he headed to Sioux in search of a buddy. He spent a few nights in a local shelter where he got into an altercation with a man he describes as drunk and belligerent that led to his arrest. Upon being released in Kenora, Joe opted to stay and have his charges moved there. A spiritual man, he calls landing in the town a “blessing” because the people there have treated him better than any other place he’s been since he began living on the streets.

In August, Joe’s case was referred to the desk of Greg Iwasiw, a lawyer who often works with clients in what’s called Mental Health Court. As the name suggests, it’s a court stream that factors into account the circumstances of people whose needs may not always be met in the regular courts. “We’re not interested in punishing him or just grinding him through the system,” says Iwasiw, noting Joe’s charge is a relatively minor one. “This court is designed so people who need assistance with whatever mental health issues they may have can get those issues identified and work within the system and hopefully not have difficulties in the future — at least with the criminal courts.”

Mental Health Court, and some of the services it can bring into play, could be a stabilizing development for a man who says he’s been through numerous cities and towns in Ontario and Quebec in the past 18 months, taking refuge in everything from ATM enclosures to dumpsters. “You wouldn’t believe the things people are doing to make money, just games and tricks and playing music,” says Joe, who lived every hockey-playing youngster’s dream by winning the Stanley Cup in 1990 and has had a view of both ends of life few of us could imagine.