The Rick Tocchet NHL Gambling Ring Scandal
When an NHL coach-turned-analyst ran an illegal sports betting operation in 2007, it exposed the murky intersection between professional sports and organized wagering.

The Rick Tocchet scandal of 2007 remains instructive not because it was unusual, but because it was public. A man with a serious position in professional hockey, coaching the Phoenix Coyotes and analysing for ESPN, was simultaneously running an illegal sports betting operation out of New Jersey. The operation was neither sophisticated nor secretive by organised crime standards. Tocchet placed bets with independent bookmakers, collected commissions, and distributed wagering information to his network. This was straightforward gambling facilitation, the sort of thing law enforcement finds routinely.
Tocchet had been a reliable journeyman player during his career. He arrived in the NHL in the late 1980s, played for seven teams, scored goals, fought occasionally. He retired in 2002 with a respectable career trajectory and moved into coaching. By 2006, he was a respected voice in hockey analysis, visible on television, connected. Then federal investigators unraveled that he had been operating a sports betting ring since at least 2005.
The Mechanics of the Operation
The investigation revealed that Tocchet worked with an associate named James Bone who placed bets through various bookmakers. They took wagers from individuals, charged a commission on losing bets (the standard 10-15% vig), and kept the action flowing. Tocchet had also allegedly provided medical advice to Coyotes players, which gave him inside information on injuries and availability status. This information had value in a betting market because injury news affects odds. A player out for two weeks changes the entire complexion of upcoming games.
Tocchet's brother-in-law was involved in the operation. His assistant coach with the Coyotes knew about it. The network extended through his circle of influence in Phoenix and back to New Jersey, where Bone was based. The operation was not hidden from those around Tocchet; it was simply not broadcast publicly. To federal investigators, it was plainly visible because the bookmakers themselves reported it.
In October 2007, the U.S. Attorney in New Jersey charged Tocchet and Bone with operating an illegal gambling operation. The charges included wire fraud and conspiracy. The investigation had monitored phone calls, emails, and bank transfers for months. The evidence was straightforward: here are the bets placed, here are the commissions paid, here is Tocchet's involvement at each level.
The Professional Consequences
Tocchet immediately resigned from his position with the Coyotes. ESPN distanced itself from him, removing him from analytical duties. The fallout was swift and thorough. Despite not having been convicted yet, Tocchet was unemployable in professional hockey. The league suspended him anyway. The message was clear: any association with illegal gambling was incompatible with holding a position in the NHL.
This created an interesting legal situation. Tocchet had not been convicted. He had been charged. The league acted on the charge itself, not on final judgment. This set a precedent that any credible allegation of gambling violation would result in immediate suspension, pending the outcome of legal proceedings.
In 2008, Tocchet pleaded guilty to a reduced charge of illegal gambling operation. He served probation, paid fines, and was eventually allowed back into hockey in a limited capacity. He became an assistant coach with the Tampa Bay Lightning in 2008, a position he held for several seasons. The league had not permanently banned him, but it had made clear that the violation was serious and would be monitored.
The Broader Implications
The scandal exposed gaps in the NHL's governance structure. How had Tocchet operated openly enough for federal investigators to discover him without the league itself becoming aware? The answer was that the league had no systematic intelligence gathering about its players and staff. They relied on news reporting or self-reporting. The legal system moved faster than the league's internal review processes.
For bettors, the scandal was instructive about margins. Tocchet was making money, not because he had secret information, but because he was a middleman taking commissions. Every loser paid him. Every winner also benefited from his service of accepting their action. This is how sports betting operations have always worked. The bookmaker does not beat the market; they take a rake and let the market beat itself.
The scandal also highlighted the fact that professional sports figures, despite public visibility and substantial income, remain vulnerable to the temptation of supplementary earnings through gambling facilitation. Tocchet earned a seven-figure salary with the Coyotes and additional income from ESPN. Yet he was willing to risk that to operate a betting ring, presumably because the margins seemed attractive.
Two decades later, sports betting has been legalised in most of North America, and the pressure that created the Tocchet operation has simply vanished. Had the scandal occurred today, Tocchet could have conducted the same operation legally through DraftKings or FanDuel. The illegality was the primary feature that made it criminal. The method would be entirely acceptable now.
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