It was over 100 degrees when we hit the tarmac at Louis Armstrong International Airport in
New Orleans on Sunday, June 3rd. I had felt weather like this only once before, in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico.
This was no resort vacation however. Shane and I managed to retrieve our bags and find our way to the
rental car. With our trusty Map Quest directions in hand, we hit the I-10 east along the Gulf Coast towards
Mississippi. The natural scenery was beautiful, palm trees lined the highway as it wound its way outside of
the city. The city still had a great deal of damage and many scars. Entire condominium complexes were
still roofless and garbage and debris lined the pot-hole laden streets. Commercial signs and lampposts
had been torn from the ground and lay horizontal like fallen soldiers all along the roads, more frequently as
we got out of the downtown area. After thirty minutes of driving we found ourselves in a rural area with not
many other cars on the road - literally the middle of nowhere. We passed over bayous and many bay bridges along the coast. An hour later we
pulled into Waveland, MS. A small town complete with the classic southern water-tower, Waveland was
home to approximately 15,000 people. After A short stop at the Rona to pick up our boots and gloves we
made our way to Camp Katrina headquarters at the Christian Life Center. The director of the group met us
there and welcomed us. After meeting our fellow workers for the next week who had also arrived
that day from New Jersey, Shane and I were free to explore the town. We drove through neighborhoods that
had been completely destroyed, gutted, and then abandoned after Katrina. Many families were living in
trailers on the property that their homes had once stood on. Seashells could be found scattered up to 5 miles
inland after the flooding. It was truly a heart-breaking scene. One bonus was that the beaches along the Waveland Coast were incredible. After taking our first swim in the Gulf of Mexico, throwing the pigskin around, and taking in the beautiful white-sand
shoreline along Waveland, we headed back to camp for a good nights sleep.
Our work began early Monday morning. We loaded the work truck with supplies and headed off to
our first assignment. We spent the next four days rebuilding a home that belonged to a family with five
young children who had been living in a small FEMA trailer for the last two years after Katrina put their
home seventeen feet under-water. The tree lines had been completely destroyed throughout the area from the
water levels and wind and many of the streets were washed out. The area that we were working in was quite
rural and many of the street signs and landmarks were swept away, leaving the area quite inhospitable to
strangers and even residents who had found it hard to find their property after the storm. By Thursday, we
had reframed and sided the entire house and restored the roof. The family was extremely grateful and often
chatted with us over our lunch breaks telling us their stories and getting to know us. We left the home in
good hands, as there would be another team coming down the following week to complete the dry walling
and painting of the house. It was a great feeling helping this family get back into their home. To many
Americans the home we built would be quite humble and small, but to this family it was like the Taj Mahal.
The remainder of that week was spent dry walling a family home owned by a local contractor
who had been so busy the last two years helping out other residents he hadn’t even taken the time to
complete the rebuild of his home. The organization we were working with explained that they
loved to find people like this (including local builders, firemen, and health workers) in the area who had
sacrificed their own time to help their neighbors and those in greater need. Again we found the family
extremely grateful and warm to us, and spent some time listening to their story and getting to know them.
During the weeks in Waveland, Shane and I would head down to a local watering hole called the Rusty Rail, which was actually a double-wide trailer on stilts. All the volunteers working in the town are given a bracelet to identify them to the locals. The owner of the pub spotted us right away and always treated us well. He even surrendered the TV to us a couple of nights so that Lenny and I could watch the NHL Stanley Cup Finals.
After the first long week of work, Shane and I left camp for a weekend in Gulfport and Biloxi. We discovered that Biloxi is somewhat of a mini Las Vegas with large casinos all along the coast line. On Friday night we partied at the Beau Rivage Casino in Biloxi and chatted up a few southern divas. We spent all day Saturday and Sunday on the beach and had a great time. It was sad to see that outside of the few miles of coast that had been cleared for the public beaches, the Gulf shores were still lined with garbage washed up from Katrina two years later. On Sunday afternoon a storm warning came in over all public radios. I have never seen a beach clear out faster. Shane and I drove back to our hotel and arrived just as the thunder and lightning show started - it was wild. We went out Saturday night to Michael's in Gulfport - great dance floor Lenny.
After the weekend break in Gulfport and Biloxi, Shane and I returned to Waveland for our second week of work.
We worked as a two man unit, insulating and dry walling the entire rebuilt home of a young man with a wife
and small child whose home had also suffered extreme flood and wind damage. On the Thursday of that
second week, as we wrapped up our work for the day in the late afternoon, a thunder-storm moved into the
area as is quite common. As we were loading the work truck in the driveway, we turned around to see
lightning strike no more than 30 feet from us, taking out the tree in the front yard across the street and
setting it ablaze. I have never seen lightning so close in my life, it was a truly scary and magnificent spectacle.
For our second weekend, Shane and I headed to the Big Easy, New Orleans. We booked a hotel a block from the corner of Canal and Bourbon. We took in all the sights including the waterfront marketplace, the casinos on Canal, and Jackson Square. We enjoyed a great dinner at Dickie Brennan's Steakhouse and then headed out for a night on Bourbon Street. What a strip! Mile after mile of bars, clubs, drink shacks, restaurants, and music. We partied hard that night. The local drink is the Hand Grenade and I have to say it gets the job done. Of the memories that I have preserved from that night, the hi lights include a Journey cover band, a mechanical bull and some Coyote Ugly divas, as well as a youth group praying for me and giving me a bottle of water while Lenny got carried off to a shady strip joint. Thankfully we both made it back to the hotel room for a few hours of sleep before heading out the next morning.
As I reflect back on our journey to the Gulf Coast I feel like it was me who received the help. The
experiences Shane and I shared will stick with me the rest of my life, along with the warmth, kindness and
tragedy of the families we met and helped in Mississippi. These people lost everything to Hurricane Katrina,
yet there willingness to fight through such tragedy and the warmth and strength of their character truly
touched my life. I am thankful for those people and hope to return again to the area to see the results of such
a huge recovery effort. I think every American should experience a visit to the Gulf Coast, and witness the
natural beauty of the area and the simple beauty of its people.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
My Roommate freshman year..
Entering college as a 21 year old freshman was a unique experience. I was 3 years older than my entire class and had been living on my own for 4 of the past 5 years of my life. I was also the only freshman in the school that was of legal age in the US.
Every Amherst freshman is paired randomly with a roomate. I had spoken to Matt briefly on the phone before I had left for Amherst. He seemed nice enough and mentioned that he would be bringing us a TV so I couldn't complain. The only thing I really knew about him was that he was from Cincinatti, OH. Because I had arrived at Amherst a few days earlier than the rest of the class, I was all settled into our room when Matt finally arrived. I had been out the night before with Rob and Rylan and a few of the other RC's partying. It was 10am and I was still passed out in bed in nothing but my underwear. All of a sudden I am surrounded by Matt and his parents, standing in the doorway staring at this much older, hung-over, half naked kid who their son has to live with for the rest of the year. Matt later told me that his parents were definitely nervous about his living situation after the initial encounter. Things improved greatly in a short period of time. I went shopping with Matt and his parents that afternoon to pick up a few things for our room, including the much needed beer fridge (which fit a 30-rack of Natural Ice beautifully) and some oscillating fans to battle the humidity of Western MA in late August. His parents turned out to be some of the nicest people I have met and I always enjoy seeing them.
Matt and I started off a little slow but got to know each other quickly. I couldn't tell you much of what happened the first few months we lived together, but by Christmas time the two of us had become the best of friends. Matt was honest with a great sense of humor, and although you might not expect this of him, he absolutely loves crushing beers. I knew I could trust him with anything. We came from very different backgrounds, his being the typical Amherst legacy sort. But that never mattered to either of us, Matt was incredibly down to earth and we got along as if we had known each other our entire lives. I think we both learned a lot from each other. Matt was incredibly talented and I picked his brain as often as I could. I learned alot from him about the finer points of academia, American politics, and careers. I think he mostly enjoyed laughing at my stupid stories after a good night out. He definitely helped me out a lot with my school and was a big reason for my early success academically at Amherst. We never bothered each other, and often did our own thing. He and I both had our own groups of friends. I spent a lot of my time with the hockey guys, and Matt became close with a group of freshmen guys that lived across the quad from us. It was the great talks in our room and the good times on the third floor of Williston that really built our relationship. Matt and I both played guitar and often jammed together. A very talented musician, he was also a member of the Amherst College A Capella group Route 9.
We began every Saturday night by crushing a few beers in the shower and then listening to Jay-Z's '99 problems.' Our floormates in Williston that year were a great bunch and we all really bonded as there were only 12 of us on the third floor, the only freshmen in the building. Our RC was very cool and let us do as we pleased so our common room was always the pre-game hub on weekends. I also got to know Matt's friends over the year who he eventually lived with his sophomore year. They are a great bunch of guys and I often enjoyed having a few wobbly pops with them over in Stone Hall our sophomore year.
Matt invited me home with him for spring break that year. We were going to hang out at his place for the week and take it easy. We would also be able to check out Cincinatti. We departed from Hartford airport and ended up getting grounded for the night at our stop-over in Baltimore due to ice rain. Thankfully, Matt's dad found us a hotel in Glenbernie, MD. I can remember sitting outside of the airport with Matt waiting for the shuttle and laughing like hell at our circumstances, we always had a good time together. We grabbed a stellar meal at the Old Country Buffet and crashed for the night. We finally arrived in Columbus where Matt's dad picked us up. He took Matt and I for lunch at a famous Jewish deli, Katzinger's, in the middle of Columbus, before making the two hour drive back to Cincinatti. Ohio is definitely flat and boring other than the three major cities, something like Southern Alberta.
That week we chilled out, watched a few flicks, ate well, and slept in every day. We partied with all of his old high school buddies in Cincinatti for St. Patrick's day. We enjoyed a few Irish Car Bombs and had an awesome time. A few stories from that night are definitely unprintable but will live on in the memory bank. During that week, Matt's parents took he and I out for dinner on the Ohio River in downtown Cincinnati. Oscar 'The Big O' Robertson was in the same restaurant and stopped by the table to say hello to Mr. Stolper and the group. Friday of that week we headed out to Oxford, OH to spend the night partying with Matt's friends at the University of Miamo-Ohio. What a time.. Oxford is a first-rate college town with a fantastic night-life scene. We pre-gamed with one of Matt's best girl friends from home who had a few of her friends over and then we hopped the bus into town to hit the bars. I have been able to see quite a few college campuses in America and I have to say that Miami-OH has the most beautiful girls I have seen. We had a great night out and even partied back at the dorms, before we all passed out together cosy in Jill's room. Oh Georgia.
Here is where things get interesting. I was supposed to book my flight back to Boston from Columbus on Sunday and leave with Matt and his Dad who was headed to Boston for business. I messed up when buying the ticket online and booked my flight for Saturday at noon instead. We had no choice but to wake up at 7:30 and drive straight from Oxford to the Columbus airport to catch my noon flight. Matt was still feeling the effects of the night before so I took the wheel. After a few U-turns leaving Oxford and a puke break for one sick lady friend, we were on our way. I drove three hours across the great state of Ohio and made it to the Columbus airport on time to catch my flight back to Boston. Eaton, OH is one hell of a town. Upon arriving in Boston, I was picked up by one of my best buddies from school who lived 10 minutes from Logan in Cambridge. After a few hours of sleep in Cambridge that afternoon, Mark (who had picked me up) took me out for a night at Boston College. Freshman Year Spring Break turned out to be an absolute gem. Mark and I drove back to campus the next day and I met Matt back at our place.
There are so many other stories from that first year but I hope this does it some justice at least.
That first year in 302 Williston was one of the best years of my life. I owe a lot of this to Matt. We had one hell of a good time together and he is a friend for life. Cheers buddy, "We've got paper-towel."
Every Amherst freshman is paired randomly with a roomate. I had spoken to Matt briefly on the phone before I had left for Amherst. He seemed nice enough and mentioned that he would be bringing us a TV so I couldn't complain. The only thing I really knew about him was that he was from Cincinatti, OH. Because I had arrived at Amherst a few days earlier than the rest of the class, I was all settled into our room when Matt finally arrived. I had been out the night before with Rob and Rylan and a few of the other RC's partying. It was 10am and I was still passed out in bed in nothing but my underwear. All of a sudden I am surrounded by Matt and his parents, standing in the doorway staring at this much older, hung-over, half naked kid who their son has to live with for the rest of the year. Matt later told me that his parents were definitely nervous about his living situation after the initial encounter. Things improved greatly in a short period of time. I went shopping with Matt and his parents that afternoon to pick up a few things for our room, including the much needed beer fridge (which fit a 30-rack of Natural Ice beautifully) and some oscillating fans to battle the humidity of Western MA in late August. His parents turned out to be some of the nicest people I have met and I always enjoy seeing them.
Matt and I started off a little slow but got to know each other quickly. I couldn't tell you much of what happened the first few months we lived together, but by Christmas time the two of us had become the best of friends. Matt was honest with a great sense of humor, and although you might not expect this of him, he absolutely loves crushing beers. I knew I could trust him with anything. We came from very different backgrounds, his being the typical Amherst legacy sort. But that never mattered to either of us, Matt was incredibly down to earth and we got along as if we had known each other our entire lives. I think we both learned a lot from each other. Matt was incredibly talented and I picked his brain as often as I could. I learned alot from him about the finer points of academia, American politics, and careers. I think he mostly enjoyed laughing at my stupid stories after a good night out. He definitely helped me out a lot with my school and was a big reason for my early success academically at Amherst. We never bothered each other, and often did our own thing. He and I both had our own groups of friends. I spent a lot of my time with the hockey guys, and Matt became close with a group of freshmen guys that lived across the quad from us. It was the great talks in our room and the good times on the third floor of Williston that really built our relationship. Matt and I both played guitar and often jammed together. A very talented musician, he was also a member of the Amherst College A Capella group Route 9.
We began every Saturday night by crushing a few beers in the shower and then listening to Jay-Z's '99 problems.' Our floormates in Williston that year were a great bunch and we all really bonded as there were only 12 of us on the third floor, the only freshmen in the building. Our RC was very cool and let us do as we pleased so our common room was always the pre-game hub on weekends. I also got to know Matt's friends over the year who he eventually lived with his sophomore year. They are a great bunch of guys and I often enjoyed having a few wobbly pops with them over in Stone Hall our sophomore year.
Matt invited me home with him for spring break that year. We were going to hang out at his place for the week and take it easy. We would also be able to check out Cincinatti. We departed from Hartford airport and ended up getting grounded for the night at our stop-over in Baltimore due to ice rain. Thankfully, Matt's dad found us a hotel in Glenbernie, MD. I can remember sitting outside of the airport with Matt waiting for the shuttle and laughing like hell at our circumstances, we always had a good time together. We grabbed a stellar meal at the Old Country Buffet and crashed for the night. We finally arrived in Columbus where Matt's dad picked us up. He took Matt and I for lunch at a famous Jewish deli, Katzinger's, in the middle of Columbus, before making the two hour drive back to Cincinatti. Ohio is definitely flat and boring other than the three major cities, something like Southern Alberta.
That week we chilled out, watched a few flicks, ate well, and slept in every day. We partied with all of his old high school buddies in Cincinatti for St. Patrick's day. We enjoyed a few Irish Car Bombs and had an awesome time. A few stories from that night are definitely unprintable but will live on in the memory bank. During that week, Matt's parents took he and I out for dinner on the Ohio River in downtown Cincinnati. Oscar 'The Big O' Robertson was in the same restaurant and stopped by the table to say hello to Mr. Stolper and the group. Friday of that week we headed out to Oxford, OH to spend the night partying with Matt's friends at the University of Miamo-Ohio. What a time.. Oxford is a first-rate college town with a fantastic night-life scene. We pre-gamed with one of Matt's best girl friends from home who had a few of her friends over and then we hopped the bus into town to hit the bars. I have been able to see quite a few college campuses in America and I have to say that Miami-OH has the most beautiful girls I have seen. We had a great night out and even partied back at the dorms, before we all passed out together cosy in Jill's room. Oh Georgia.
Here is where things get interesting. I was supposed to book my flight back to Boston from Columbus on Sunday and leave with Matt and his Dad who was headed to Boston for business. I messed up when buying the ticket online and booked my flight for Saturday at noon instead. We had no choice but to wake up at 7:30 and drive straight from Oxford to the Columbus airport to catch my noon flight. Matt was still feeling the effects of the night before so I took the wheel. After a few U-turns leaving Oxford and a puke break for one sick lady friend, we were on our way. I drove three hours across the great state of Ohio and made it to the Columbus airport on time to catch my flight back to Boston. Eaton, OH is one hell of a town. Upon arriving in Boston, I was picked up by one of my best buddies from school who lived 10 minutes from Logan in Cambridge. After a few hours of sleep in Cambridge that afternoon, Mark (who had picked me up) took me out for a night at Boston College. Freshman Year Spring Break turned out to be an absolute gem. Mark and I drove back to campus the next day and I met Matt back at our place.
There are so many other stories from that first year but I hope this does it some justice at least.
That first year in 302 Williston was one of the best years of my life. I owe a lot of this to Matt. We had one hell of a good time together and he is a friend for life. Cheers buddy, "We've got paper-towel."
Sunday, June 22, 2008
One Way Ticket to Western MA
That summer after my final BCHL season, I returned home to my parent's new place in Sardis, BC to work at a local restaurant as a server and hang out with the boys. I was not as serious about training for my NCAA debut the following fall as I had fully embraced the D3 reality. After five years of junior hockey I was excited to begin the next chapter of my life as a college student. That last full summer at home was one of the best of my life. I travelled to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico with 10 other buddies including Tyler Spice - it was the trip of a lifetime. Senor Frogs got the best of me. The Abby boys and I then put in one last outstanding performance at the Merritt Mountain Music Festival in July. Absolutely nothing about that vacation is printable, well the Travis Tritt concert was exceptional from what I remember. I finished the summer by spending two weeks working at the Stan Smyl hockey school in Whistler, BC. I spent everyday on the ice with the kids or out in the most beautiful nature on the planet. It was a relaxing experience that helped me prepare for the upcoming school year and make a few more dollars to spend in America. Upon returning home from the Whistler camp I had just a few days to pack up my life for a one-way ticket to Western MA.
I flew out of Vancouver international airport on August 24th, 2006. My parents drove me out to YVR for my latest of many departures. I can still remember the look on my mother's face as she hugged me goodbye in the terminal with tears in her eyes. I knew my dad was feeling the same way but the big guy just doesn't show it like Mom does. He definitely knew that I had snagged a box of his Viagra but that is a whole other story. I left Vancouver at 7:15am on a flight to Toronto. I can still picture the guy that sat next to me, a middle-aged business type who looked like he hated his job. I asked him how long the flight to TO would take, "about four and a half," he replied. I was so excited I could not sleep. Upon landing in Toronto, I began the always painful process of clearing United States customs with a student visa. One lifetime payment of one hundred dollars to the department of homeland security and a full body cavity check from Officer Garcia later, I was on board a small commuter flight from T.O. to Logan International. The guy across the aisle got pretty excited when he thought I was going to 'ZooMass.' I was so excited to see the city of Boston. I can still remember looking out the window of the plane as we landed and seeing the Atlantic ocean for the first time. I had made arrangements with the Amherst College International Students Association to be picked up at Logan.
I was greeted by a tall Indian guy and a short Romanian girl, both quiet seniors who I would never really speak to again after that night. It was 8pm by the time we departed Logan and soon it was dark out. It was a two hour drive out to the college that passed without much excitement, stopping to eat at a 5-in-1 highway stop. I made small talk with the other passenger, a young Spanish woman who was going to be a language tutor at Amherst for the year. She was beautiful with a great accent. I would always say hi to her over the course of the following year. She began dating a Spanish professor at the college and I would often see the two of them making out viciously in front of the Spanish building on my way to my political science course. That night on the drive to Amherst I saw colonial style houses for the first time in my life, so different from the stucco of the West Coast. The first person I met on campus late that night was Rob Stevenson. Rob was a Junior then and a member of the hockey team. His senior year he served as team captain. Rob was well respected by everyone at the school and a guy I always looked up to. He was on campus early that summer as he was working as a Resident counselor in the dorms, along with fellow teammate Rylan Burns. I too would take on the RC role in the social dorms my sophomore and junior years, partly because of their influence.
I could not believe how beautiful the campus was. The buildings were all so old yet unbelievably well kept and remodeled inside. There were trees everywhere. After taking me to the campus center to meet Rob and picking up my ID card and room key, my ride dropped me off in front of my new residence, Williston Hall - Room 302. It was now close to mid-night. I dragged my two suitcases, computer, and suitbag up three flights of stairs to check out the room that would be home for the year. I was two days ahead of the incoming freshman class so the building was still empty. Williston was a beautiful old building that been completely restored in the original design of 1832 (close enough). My room was simple: bed, dresser, desk. I had not had a chance to buy anything for my room as it was so late when I arrived, so I spent that first night sleeping on top of my winter jacket. I had no idea that Western MA would be so hot and humid. The first person I met was my neighbor, a fellow international student from China, Fangda Wan, who had arrived earlier that evening. I remember being so excited that I could not sleep. The next four years would be the best years of my life - mostly I just couldn't wait to meet the divas.
The next morning my assistant coach took me down Route 9 to the target where I bought everything I needed for my room. I also toured the campus and checked out the ice rink, Orr Arena. I remember thinking how strange it was to be in Massachusetts of all places. The landscape in Western Ma is not too different from rural B.C.
I flew out of Vancouver international airport on August 24th, 2006. My parents drove me out to YVR for my latest of many departures. I can still remember the look on my mother's face as she hugged me goodbye in the terminal with tears in her eyes. I knew my dad was feeling the same way but the big guy just doesn't show it like Mom does. He definitely knew that I had snagged a box of his Viagra but that is a whole other story. I left Vancouver at 7:15am on a flight to Toronto. I can still picture the guy that sat next to me, a middle-aged business type who looked like he hated his job. I asked him how long the flight to TO would take, "about four and a half," he replied. I was so excited I could not sleep. Upon landing in Toronto, I began the always painful process of clearing United States customs with a student visa. One lifetime payment of one hundred dollars to the department of homeland security and a full body cavity check from Officer Garcia later, I was on board a small commuter flight from T.O. to Logan International. The guy across the aisle got pretty excited when he thought I was going to 'ZooMass.' I was so excited to see the city of Boston. I can still remember looking out the window of the plane as we landed and seeing the Atlantic ocean for the first time. I had made arrangements with the Amherst College International Students Association to be picked up at Logan.
I was greeted by a tall Indian guy and a short Romanian girl, both quiet seniors who I would never really speak to again after that night. It was 8pm by the time we departed Logan and soon it was dark out. It was a two hour drive out to the college that passed without much excitement, stopping to eat at a 5-in-1 highway stop. I made small talk with the other passenger, a young Spanish woman who was going to be a language tutor at Amherst for the year. She was beautiful with a great accent. I would always say hi to her over the course of the following year. She began dating a Spanish professor at the college and I would often see the two of them making out viciously in front of the Spanish building on my way to my political science course. That night on the drive to Amherst I saw colonial style houses for the first time in my life, so different from the stucco of the West Coast. The first person I met on campus late that night was Rob Stevenson. Rob was a Junior then and a member of the hockey team. His senior year he served as team captain. Rob was well respected by everyone at the school and a guy I always looked up to. He was on campus early that summer as he was working as a Resident counselor in the dorms, along with fellow teammate Rylan Burns. I too would take on the RC role in the social dorms my sophomore and junior years, partly because of their influence.
I could not believe how beautiful the campus was. The buildings were all so old yet unbelievably well kept and remodeled inside. There were trees everywhere. After taking me to the campus center to meet Rob and picking up my ID card and room key, my ride dropped me off in front of my new residence, Williston Hall - Room 302. It was now close to mid-night. I dragged my two suitcases, computer, and suitbag up three flights of stairs to check out the room that would be home for the year. I was two days ahead of the incoming freshman class so the building was still empty. Williston was a beautiful old building that been completely restored in the original design of 1832 (close enough). My room was simple: bed, dresser, desk. I had not had a chance to buy anything for my room as it was so late when I arrived, so I spent that first night sleeping on top of my winter jacket. I had no idea that Western MA would be so hot and humid. The first person I met was my neighbor, a fellow international student from China, Fangda Wan, who had arrived earlier that evening. I remember being so excited that I could not sleep. The next four years would be the best years of my life - mostly I just couldn't wait to meet the divas.
The next morning my assistant coach took me down Route 9 to the target where I bought everything I needed for my room. I also toured the campus and checked out the ice rink, Orr Arena. I remember thinking how strange it was to be in Massachusetts of all places. The landscape in Western Ma is not too different from rural B.C.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Living the Dream
For the first twenty years of my life, hockey was the be all and end all. I have lived the Canadian dream to the best of my abilities. It all began at the age of 6 when I stepped on the ice at the Aldergrove (B.C.) Arena. I still remember my first practice for tyke hockey and thinking to myself, "this is easy." I played my tyke and novice years (6-9) in Aldergrove. Although we lived in Abbotsford, my parents knew that I would learn the game and get more ice time in Aldergrove because the association was much smaller than the Abbostford program. Ted Sr. coached our novice teams and we had a lot of fun and success. In those days I usually managed to bury three or four goals a game (Enjoy this while it lasts!). It wouldn't last. At nine years old I was fortunate enough to play for the Pacific Vipers, a team of elite major novice players from the greater Vancouver area that travelled across Western Canada for all the big tournaments, including the Brick Tournament at the West Edmonton Mall. The Pacific Vipers squad included future NHL'ers Brent Seabrook and Andrew Ladd as well as a few other current AHL players who will most likely make the jump to the show. Even at such a young age, that program taught me a lot of lessons (some tough ones for certain) about the game of hockey and the struggles involved in pursuing a dream. I owe everything to my parents who were so committed to helping me in every way they could. I can not describe the sacrifices that they made for me over the years to help me play and succeed at the game I love. Those fun years in Aldergrove were the beginning of a long journey through the hockey ranks, with many ups and downs that have helped shape the person that I am today. You always encouraged me to put as much effort into my schoolwork as I put into my hockey, so that I might have an opportunity to receive a great education through hockey. This article is for you Mom and Dad. Thanks for everything, you've always been there for me.
I played my atom, peewee, and bantam AAA for the Abbotsford Minor Hockey Association. We always had a talented team and competed against the best kids in Canada on a regular basis. I was fortunate enough to play against many future NHL'ers and be a part of some great teams during my youth. As an Atom, our Abbotsford AAA team defeated Langley Minor to win the Fraser Valley Championships. I can still remember playing on a line with Justin Mercier and Tyler Hamade. Mercier and I set up Hamade for two goals in the championship game at the Langley Twin Rinks. Our coach was Barry Veldhoen. As a PeeWee, we travelled to Quebec City to play in the World PeeWee Championships at Le Colisee. Our Bantam AAA team was a great squad also, with two NHL'ers in Mike Funk and Kyle Cumiskey. Derek Janzen, our goaltender, went on to have an outstanding BCHL career with the Chilliwack Chiefs and is now tending the nets Northern Michigan University on full scholarship. We qualified for the Bantam AAA Provincial tournament as well, a truly great season that ended my Minor Hockey career.
At the age of sixteen I left home to play Junior hockey in the small kootenay town of Grand Forks, BC. The team there was pretty young and struggled on the ice but we had a great time together. David Semenyna of Rimby, Alberta was one of the funniest guys I ever played the game with. He drove a 1983 Brougham around town that he bought for a few hundred bucks and used to bring a pink barbie lunch box with him on the road. My roommate was Richard Colin from Osoyoos, a first class beauty who chewed 24/7 at the age of 16. Pretty sure Rich is playing Poker in Vegas as I write this. I learned the ropes of life on the road, how to be a junior hockey player, and a thing or two about life in general. I also took my first dip of Skoal that year. The townies in 'GF' sure hated us hockey guys at the high school for stealing their girls. I owe Coach Cam Dickie for giving me a chance to play Juniors and helping me take my game to the next level. I probably played the best game of my entire life that year as a Border Bruin, it is just too bad that no one saw it. We were on the road playing the Spokane Braves in a division match-up. 'Spoke' drew about 30 fans a game that year and this night was no exception. I had already scored in the first period off a scramble in front of the net when in the third period I took the puck end to end (I never did this) beating 3-4 guys before snapping one low stick side. Considering I was 16yrs old playing Junior B, it really was the nicest goal I ever scored. To top things off, I dropped the mits for the first time in my life a few minutes later. Not having a clue what I was doing I luckily escaped with no major injuries. Just my luck, the referees in Spokane were completely useless and credited my first goal to the wrong guy. I never did receive credit for that one (See 'Chiseling'). My billets in 'GF' were first-class people who I still hear from to this day, Betty and Dave Paulett.
The following year, my senior year of high school, I was fortunate to be able to play for my hometown junior club, the Abbotsford Pilots. After a brief stint with the Langley Hornets of the BCHL, I returned home to Abby to play for the club I grew up watching as a kid. Being able to graduate with all of my childhood buddies at WJ Mouat Secondary and play in front of friends and family every night at the old MSA arena was truly one of the best years of my life. We had an extremely talented team including five future WHL/NCAA players and one NHL draft pick, Adam Hobson of Mission, BC. I am still great friends with some of the guys I played with on that Pilots team, we were a close knit bunch who had just as much fun off the ice as we did on it. The rookie party that we held out in White Rock at Ryan McLeod's place would have rivaled a Saturday night at the Playboy Mansion, what an absolute show. Girls were leaving because there were not enough guys to go around. We had the pool and the hot tub packed, as well as the dance floor. So many great stories from that night. Chris DiFrancescantonio, an infamous agitator, Pilots fan favorite, and even better comedian was one of the funniest guys I ever played the game with. To this day, I can think back to our times as a team in the Pilots dressing room and at the team parties, and laugh. After winning the regular season title that year, we advanced to the PIJHL finals where we were upset in double overtime of the seventh game by the Richmond Sockeyes. I was kicked out of the game in the second overtime for kicking, yes kicking! I was in the corner behind the net and the puck was in my feet while I battled with Sockeyes defenseman Brodie Henderson. Henderson must have been tired at the end of a shift as he tried to lay out and dive on the puck to cover it up, just as I went to kick the puck over to my line mate Peter Bogdanich. I connected with Henderson's helmet instead of the puck and the ref had no choice, a real unlucky play. It was a tough loss that taught me a lot about what it takes to show up for your team in the hard times of playoff hockey. By the time I realized that I really wanted to win that series and not just go home to Abby to hang out with the high school girls and enjoy my senior spring break, it was too late. Our off ice fun may have cost us that title that year, along with a bad trade by our GM at the end of the season that upset the great chemistry we had in the room. Overall, I had a successful season in Abbotsford, scoring 17 goals and 24 assists for 41 pts. in 40 games. I was also the MVP of the PIJHL prospects game that was played at MSA Arena.
Shortly after the conclusion of that season, the Abbotsford Pilots were struck by two horrific tragedies. Derek Matty, a local kid and fan favorite (one of the funniest, most lovable guys I ever played the game with) was struck by a truck on the Lougheed Highway and died instantly. Shortly after Derek's death, our teammate Gary Graber of Mission, BC was killed during a dirt-biking trip with his friends when a tree branch that had been bent by a windstorm caught him in the chest. I can still remember the funerals of those guys to this day, two of the saddest days of my life. I remember seeing all of the Pilots players and staff, past and present, gathered around Derek's grave as we each took a turn shoveling dirt into the grave. I can also remember listening to Gary's mother speak at their house to a huge crowd including again, past and present Pilots. We all cried together as she played Gary's song, Welcome to the Jungle by Guns n Roses. I was the only fool in the crowd who didn't have sunglasses on, with tears running down my face. Both of those players had been good to me, even though I was much younger than them. The Pilots team really was like a family. I still think of Derek and Gary to this day, with a smile on my face. They are remembered so well by so many.
After the hockey season I was able to focus on finishing up my senior year and enjoying time with all of my high school buddies. Graduation and the parties that followed were also some of the best times of my life. Just like the Pilots, my senior class was a hilarious group, always partying and sharing good times. Our end of the year grad party was like Woodstock. We held it out in the Sumas flats at our buddy's farm. A few of the other fellas and I put the shaker together for our class. We sold tickets and rented a huge circus tent for a dance floor and even paid for some pricey Dj's to come out from Vancouver and do the music. Everyone set up tents out in the backfield, it was an all night rager. There are a lot of stories from that night that might not be suitable for print, but we sure had a great time. I knew that that spring and summer would probably be one of the last times I was at home for such a lengthy period of time so I made the most of it. I always enjoyed heading up to Shushwap Lake for a weekend at the cabin or givin' er on the river at the annual gong show known as the Merritt Mountain Music Festival. Luke Skrzyniarz, Sterling Mckay, Greg Regier, Tyler Hamade, Steve Kucharski, Brandon Maier, and Ross Kramer - we sure had some epic moments. Cheers to those boys wherever they are.
The following season I again signed with the Langley Hornets of the BCHL, but this time I stuck. My rookie season in the BCHL was full of ups and downs. The team was owned by two men who thought it appropriate to place their own sons on the team, unheard of at that level of hockey. This situation really dragged down the organization as a whole. The coach, Mike Cameron, was a good guy who meant well but really had his hands tied behind the scenes. He gave me an opportunity to play every night and earn my ice time and role. I played a physical, third-line role on a low scoring team. We struggled in our own division, against the powerful Chilliwack Chiefs, Surrey Eagles, and Coquitlam Express, all of which had talented rosters full of future NCAA and even NHL players. We did do very well against the rest of the league, however. There were some great guys on that team that went on to have great careers. Rob Pritchard, our captain that year, was a tremendous worker with a great snap shot who went on to have a successful career at Dartmouth College. Rob was a great guy who I respected and learned a lot from. Andrew Sarauer was the star of our team, leading us in scoring. A Saskatchewan kid with tremendous talent, Sarauer was drafted by the Vancouver Canucks in the 4th round that year. He went on to play for Northern Michigan. One of my favorites, Matt Pope was a local kid who also had a ton of talent and a smoking hot girlfriend rotation. Pope went on to have a successful career at Bemidji State. Other guys who went on to play NCAA hockey from that Hornets team were Sean Weaver with Western Michigan, Rob Skinner with Northern Michigan, Darren Olson with RIT, Derek May with Northern Michigan, and Aaron Berman with Wisconsin-Superior. After my rookie season with Langley where I amassed 15 pts. and 210 pims I was contacted by Princeton University. My SAT scores were good enough for Ivy Hockey and they were interested in me. If I had a successful season the following year, they would take me. I had also decided that I wanted to move organizations and asked for a trade. It was a tough move to make but I felt that Langley was headed for hard times with the current ownership. Mike Cameron traded me to Powell River. Powell River was a good club with a strong coach who had a reputation for moving players on the next level. Ultimately I was happy with the move and began preparing for a big season on the Sunshine Coast.
That summer I trained with Mike Thompson (twisted steal and sex appeal) of TommyFit Hockey. Mike runs a good program, having trained numerous NHL, minor pro, NCAA, and Junior players. I worked extremely hard that summer, perhaps a little too hard. I developed Osteitis Pubis (A pelvic stress fracture) that ended up costing me the first two months of the season in Powell River and so much more.
I was able to come back from the injury and finish the season in Powell River. The injury had definitely slowed me down a step in terms of speed and skating. I still had a pretty good season considering, scoring 10g-20a-30pts in only 45 games. I had lost the interest of Princeton though. For the second season in a row I was fortunate enough to play in the Global Scouting NCAA Prospects games in late June. Before the prospects games, I had been living in Victoria with my then steady girlfriend, enjoying the summer and not stepping on the ice more than twice. I showed up for the prospects game out of game shape and I am sure it cost me an opportunity. Between the Osteitis Pubis and a poor performance at the NCAA Prospects game I feel I blew my D1 hopes. Good looking young women can often have a profound impact on a young talented hockey players' career. The girlfriend often causes a player to lose a bit of his fire and drive, or worse. I witnessed many examples of this over my junior career, including my own.
Powell River ended up making a coaching change that summer as Terry Perkins left for a position in the WHL with Regina. I did not want to be there if Terry Perkins would not be returning and so once again I asked for a trade. The new coach , Jamie Leach, dealt me to Merritt and I was crushed. My future seemed to do an about face in a matter of hours however when I received a phone call from Harvey Smyl, GM of the Chilliwack Chiefs, telling me that I had been acquired from Merritt. I was overjoyed. I would get to play my final year in the BCHL for my hometown team (Chillwack is 15 minutes from Abbotsford). Chilliwack was a perennial powerhouse in the BCHL and I felt certain that I would still be able to attain my D1 Ivy dream.
I had asked for a trade after both of my first two seasons in the BCHL. It is not an easy thing to do to tell a 40 year old man that you no longer wish to play for him but I felt in both cases I was doing the right thing for me and handled it with class. I turned out to be right too, as both Langley and Powell River had horrible seasons after I had left their team, not that it had to do with my absence.
I had an unbelievable camp that summer with Chilliwack and seemed destined for that great year in the BCHL I had always hoped for. As the season started, I was plagued by a number of minor injuries including a terrible hip pointer bruise from being hit, innocently going into the boards the wrong way. I also came down with a horrible stomach virus that cost me another missed weekendof games. I was playing on the third line behind a lot of talented kids and only had 1g, 3a through the first 12 games of the season. I was devestated to find out that after only 12 games in to my final season in the BCHL, Harvey Smyl had traded me to the Quesnel Millionaires. They were the worst club by far, year after year. The town was depressed economically and did not support the team which was publicly owned by a board of community members, always a bad sign. Once again I put on my hard hat and made the 7 hour drive north with my dad to Quesnel. I was determined to see my career to the end and not give up on my dream of playing NCAA hockey at a great academic school. The coach there was Gary Kozak. 'Kozy' was a young guy with a lot of energy and a great heart, but he was directing a lost cause. Quesnel could simply not attract enough talented players to ice a competitive line up. I met with Kozy upon arriving at the old barn in Quesnel, "The Vault." He told me that I would have a chance to play as much as I wanted in all situations and lead the team, a role I had never had before in the BCHL. I embraced the opportunity and decided to make the most of my last months in the league. I played on a line for most of that season with Steve Cameron and Joel Leonard. Both were great guys off the ice and we had a lot of fun together in the locker room and on the bus. Cameron was traded to Penticton at the deadline and went on to play NCAA hockey at Mercyhurst. He was a great kid and I enjoyed our time together in the Q. I scored 15 goals that season which after Cameron's departure lead the Mills, even if 15 goals would have been the 4th or 5th highest total on any other team in the league. I learned to love the game again in Quesnel. Knowing that every night we had nothing to lose, I just went out and played the game for fun, trying to do things I would not normally try, knowing that on such a miserable team I could get a way with it. I played as a leader, and I had fun. After two weeks in Quesnel, when I had finally committed to a school for the following year, I was able to just have fun and relax without the stress that almost every player in the league carries with them: worrying about securing their future in the NCAA. Who would have thought that my BCHL career would end in Quesnel, on an 8-win team (we played 60 game seasons).
The best weekend of my BCHL career came late in the season when we made our road trip down to the coast to play Surrey and Chilliwack (my old team) on the same weekend. I was secretly dreading this trip as I thought we would be embarassed in front of all my piers (former teammates), friends, and family who would certainly be out to watch me play. For many of my family members and friends, this would be the last time they saw me play the game. Friday night in Surrey the Mills brought it together for one rare occasion and battled hard. We kept it close and with a few minutes remaining were only down by one goal. I had already drawn an assist on a Joel Leonard goal and was playing well. With about two minutes left there was a face-off in the Surrey end. We put out an extra attacker to make one final push. We won the draw back out our point man, Nicholas Rioux (who went on to play for St. Cloud). I was playing on the wall off the draw and hesitated as a cluster of guys crashed towards the net. I bid my time well and darted towards the crease at the last minute. Rioux's shot came out of the pile right to my stick and I jammed it in at the side of the net. Over time! You have to understand that for a lowly club with only 8 wins, overtime was itself a blessing as it guaranteed a point and saved face for a night. We eventually lost in overtime after both teams traded many chances. Oh well, I had played well in front of my family for the second last game they would see me play.
The next night in Chilliwack would be the true test. Kozy let me skip the bus trip from Surrey to Chilliwack and I rode home with my parents to spend the night at their place, an extremely rare occurance in the BCHL. I enjoyed my family and ate well. The next day I prepared with the team for a tough game. Chilliwack must have been a little off and we were certainly still on from Surrey the night before (which rarely happened) because we kept it close through the third period. On almost the exact same play from the night before I again jammed one in at the side of the net late in the third period to make it 2-1 with minutes to go. The game ended with that score but it was a great moment for me personally. I had represented myself well for the last time in front of the hometown family and friends, as well as many others who had watched me play over the years.
A few weeks after I had arrived in Quesnel, Kozy gave me a package that had been forwarded to me in the mail from Chilliwack. It was from Amherst College. It turns out that Darren Reaume, the assistant coach at Amherst had seen me play while I was still with Chilliwack. He was impressed enough with my play and knew that my grades and SAT's were good enough to get me into Amherst, a 'little ivy' division 3 NCAA school. My first reaction was indifference. It was always nice to hear from schools as a player in the BCHL but everyone in that league wanted to play at a D1 school. In reality, many academically gifted players in that league including me were willing to sell their soul to play D1 hockey at the worst academic school in the United States in the worst conference in D1 hockey. They (myself included) were completely oblivious to some of the amazing opportunities at some of the best academic institutes in the United States, including Amherst and Williams, two of the best schools in the nation. Amherst would be my fate.
I committed to the school without even visiting the campus. Amherst College, like every other D3 school in the nation does not pay for athlete visits. I figured that between my thorough Google search and a phone call from the coach I had enough information to make the right decision. Sign me up! Before hearing from Coach Reaume during that final season in the BCHL, I had never even heard of Amherst. I also spoke to one of the players on the hockey team who had come to Amherst via the BCHL the year before me. 'Burnsy' told me that the education was first class, the opportunities were incredible, the guys on the hockey team were a great bunch, and that there were a ton of good looking rich girls running around the campus. Three of the four claims were truthful it turned out. US Newsweek ranked Amherst as the #2 liberal arts college in the nation (behind only arch-rival Williams) and that was good enough for my parents, not that it really mattered as I wasn't exactly beating back the offers. When you can't have Princeton, a little-ivy ain't bad. And so I was off.
I played my atom, peewee, and bantam AAA for the Abbotsford Minor Hockey Association. We always had a talented team and competed against the best kids in Canada on a regular basis. I was fortunate enough to play against many future NHL'ers and be a part of some great teams during my youth. As an Atom, our Abbotsford AAA team defeated Langley Minor to win the Fraser Valley Championships. I can still remember playing on a line with Justin Mercier and Tyler Hamade. Mercier and I set up Hamade for two goals in the championship game at the Langley Twin Rinks. Our coach was Barry Veldhoen. As a PeeWee, we travelled to Quebec City to play in the World PeeWee Championships at Le Colisee. Our Bantam AAA team was a great squad also, with two NHL'ers in Mike Funk and Kyle Cumiskey. Derek Janzen, our goaltender, went on to have an outstanding BCHL career with the Chilliwack Chiefs and is now tending the nets Northern Michigan University on full scholarship. We qualified for the Bantam AAA Provincial tournament as well, a truly great season that ended my Minor Hockey career.
At the age of sixteen I left home to play Junior hockey in the small kootenay town of Grand Forks, BC. The team there was pretty young and struggled on the ice but we had a great time together. David Semenyna of Rimby, Alberta was one of the funniest guys I ever played the game with. He drove a 1983 Brougham around town that he bought for a few hundred bucks and used to bring a pink barbie lunch box with him on the road. My roommate was Richard Colin from Osoyoos, a first class beauty who chewed 24/7 at the age of 16. Pretty sure Rich is playing Poker in Vegas as I write this. I learned the ropes of life on the road, how to be a junior hockey player, and a thing or two about life in general. I also took my first dip of Skoal that year. The townies in 'GF' sure hated us hockey guys at the high school for stealing their girls. I owe Coach Cam Dickie for giving me a chance to play Juniors and helping me take my game to the next level. I probably played the best game of my entire life that year as a Border Bruin, it is just too bad that no one saw it. We were on the road playing the Spokane Braves in a division match-up. 'Spoke' drew about 30 fans a game that year and this night was no exception. I had already scored in the first period off a scramble in front of the net when in the third period I took the puck end to end (I never did this) beating 3-4 guys before snapping one low stick side. Considering I was 16yrs old playing Junior B, it really was the nicest goal I ever scored. To top things off, I dropped the mits for the first time in my life a few minutes later. Not having a clue what I was doing I luckily escaped with no major injuries. Just my luck, the referees in Spokane were completely useless and credited my first goal to the wrong guy. I never did receive credit for that one (See 'Chiseling'). My billets in 'GF' were first-class people who I still hear from to this day, Betty and Dave Paulett.
The following year, my senior year of high school, I was fortunate to be able to play for my hometown junior club, the Abbotsford Pilots. After a brief stint with the Langley Hornets of the BCHL, I returned home to Abby to play for the club I grew up watching as a kid. Being able to graduate with all of my childhood buddies at WJ Mouat Secondary and play in front of friends and family every night at the old MSA arena was truly one of the best years of my life. We had an extremely talented team including five future WHL/NCAA players and one NHL draft pick, Adam Hobson of Mission, BC. I am still great friends with some of the guys I played with on that Pilots team, we were a close knit bunch who had just as much fun off the ice as we did on it. The rookie party that we held out in White Rock at Ryan McLeod's place would have rivaled a Saturday night at the Playboy Mansion, what an absolute show. Girls were leaving because there were not enough guys to go around. We had the pool and the hot tub packed, as well as the dance floor. So many great stories from that night. Chris DiFrancescantonio, an infamous agitator, Pilots fan favorite, and even better comedian was one of the funniest guys I ever played the game with. To this day, I can think back to our times as a team in the Pilots dressing room and at the team parties, and laugh. After winning the regular season title that year, we advanced to the PIJHL finals where we were upset in double overtime of the seventh game by the Richmond Sockeyes. I was kicked out of the game in the second overtime for kicking, yes kicking! I was in the corner behind the net and the puck was in my feet while I battled with Sockeyes defenseman Brodie Henderson. Henderson must have been tired at the end of a shift as he tried to lay out and dive on the puck to cover it up, just as I went to kick the puck over to my line mate Peter Bogdanich. I connected with Henderson's helmet instead of the puck and the ref had no choice, a real unlucky play. It was a tough loss that taught me a lot about what it takes to show up for your team in the hard times of playoff hockey. By the time I realized that I really wanted to win that series and not just go home to Abby to hang out with the high school girls and enjoy my senior spring break, it was too late. Our off ice fun may have cost us that title that year, along with a bad trade by our GM at the end of the season that upset the great chemistry we had in the room. Overall, I had a successful season in Abbotsford, scoring 17 goals and 24 assists for 41 pts. in 40 games. I was also the MVP of the PIJHL prospects game that was played at MSA Arena.
Shortly after the conclusion of that season, the Abbotsford Pilots were struck by two horrific tragedies. Derek Matty, a local kid and fan favorite (one of the funniest, most lovable guys I ever played the game with) was struck by a truck on the Lougheed Highway and died instantly. Shortly after Derek's death, our teammate Gary Graber of Mission, BC was killed during a dirt-biking trip with his friends when a tree branch that had been bent by a windstorm caught him in the chest. I can still remember the funerals of those guys to this day, two of the saddest days of my life. I remember seeing all of the Pilots players and staff, past and present, gathered around Derek's grave as we each took a turn shoveling dirt into the grave. I can also remember listening to Gary's mother speak at their house to a huge crowd including again, past and present Pilots. We all cried together as she played Gary's song, Welcome to the Jungle by Guns n Roses. I was the only fool in the crowd who didn't have sunglasses on, with tears running down my face. Both of those players had been good to me, even though I was much younger than them. The Pilots team really was like a family. I still think of Derek and Gary to this day, with a smile on my face. They are remembered so well by so many.
After the hockey season I was able to focus on finishing up my senior year and enjoying time with all of my high school buddies. Graduation and the parties that followed were also some of the best times of my life. Just like the Pilots, my senior class was a hilarious group, always partying and sharing good times. Our end of the year grad party was like Woodstock. We held it out in the Sumas flats at our buddy's farm. A few of the other fellas and I put the shaker together for our class. We sold tickets and rented a huge circus tent for a dance floor and even paid for some pricey Dj's to come out from Vancouver and do the music. Everyone set up tents out in the backfield, it was an all night rager. There are a lot of stories from that night that might not be suitable for print, but we sure had a great time. I knew that that spring and summer would probably be one of the last times I was at home for such a lengthy period of time so I made the most of it. I always enjoyed heading up to Shushwap Lake for a weekend at the cabin or givin' er on the river at the annual gong show known as the Merritt Mountain Music Festival. Luke Skrzyniarz, Sterling Mckay, Greg Regier, Tyler Hamade, Steve Kucharski, Brandon Maier, and Ross Kramer - we sure had some epic moments. Cheers to those boys wherever they are.
The following season I again signed with the Langley Hornets of the BCHL, but this time I stuck. My rookie season in the BCHL was full of ups and downs. The team was owned by two men who thought it appropriate to place their own sons on the team, unheard of at that level of hockey. This situation really dragged down the organization as a whole. The coach, Mike Cameron, was a good guy who meant well but really had his hands tied behind the scenes. He gave me an opportunity to play every night and earn my ice time and role. I played a physical, third-line role on a low scoring team. We struggled in our own division, against the powerful Chilliwack Chiefs, Surrey Eagles, and Coquitlam Express, all of which had talented rosters full of future NCAA and even NHL players. We did do very well against the rest of the league, however. There were some great guys on that team that went on to have great careers. Rob Pritchard, our captain that year, was a tremendous worker with a great snap shot who went on to have a successful career at Dartmouth College. Rob was a great guy who I respected and learned a lot from. Andrew Sarauer was the star of our team, leading us in scoring. A Saskatchewan kid with tremendous talent, Sarauer was drafted by the Vancouver Canucks in the 4th round that year. He went on to play for Northern Michigan. One of my favorites, Matt Pope was a local kid who also had a ton of talent and a smoking hot girlfriend rotation. Pope went on to have a successful career at Bemidji State. Other guys who went on to play NCAA hockey from that Hornets team were Sean Weaver with Western Michigan, Rob Skinner with Northern Michigan, Darren Olson with RIT, Derek May with Northern Michigan, and Aaron Berman with Wisconsin-Superior. After my rookie season with Langley where I amassed 15 pts. and 210 pims I was contacted by Princeton University. My SAT scores were good enough for Ivy Hockey and they were interested in me. If I had a successful season the following year, they would take me. I had also decided that I wanted to move organizations and asked for a trade. It was a tough move to make but I felt that Langley was headed for hard times with the current ownership. Mike Cameron traded me to Powell River. Powell River was a good club with a strong coach who had a reputation for moving players on the next level. Ultimately I was happy with the move and began preparing for a big season on the Sunshine Coast.
That summer I trained with Mike Thompson (twisted steal and sex appeal) of TommyFit Hockey. Mike runs a good program, having trained numerous NHL, minor pro, NCAA, and Junior players. I worked extremely hard that summer, perhaps a little too hard. I developed Osteitis Pubis (A pelvic stress fracture) that ended up costing me the first two months of the season in Powell River and so much more.
I was able to come back from the injury and finish the season in Powell River. The injury had definitely slowed me down a step in terms of speed and skating. I still had a pretty good season considering, scoring 10g-20a-30pts in only 45 games. I had lost the interest of Princeton though. For the second season in a row I was fortunate enough to play in the Global Scouting NCAA Prospects games in late June. Before the prospects games, I had been living in Victoria with my then steady girlfriend, enjoying the summer and not stepping on the ice more than twice. I showed up for the prospects game out of game shape and I am sure it cost me an opportunity. Between the Osteitis Pubis and a poor performance at the NCAA Prospects game I feel I blew my D1 hopes. Good looking young women can often have a profound impact on a young talented hockey players' career. The girlfriend often causes a player to lose a bit of his fire and drive, or worse. I witnessed many examples of this over my junior career, including my own.
Powell River ended up making a coaching change that summer as Terry Perkins left for a position in the WHL with Regina. I did not want to be there if Terry Perkins would not be returning and so once again I asked for a trade. The new coach , Jamie Leach, dealt me to Merritt and I was crushed. My future seemed to do an about face in a matter of hours however when I received a phone call from Harvey Smyl, GM of the Chilliwack Chiefs, telling me that I had been acquired from Merritt. I was overjoyed. I would get to play my final year in the BCHL for my hometown team (Chillwack is 15 minutes from Abbotsford). Chilliwack was a perennial powerhouse in the BCHL and I felt certain that I would still be able to attain my D1 Ivy dream.
I had asked for a trade after both of my first two seasons in the BCHL. It is not an easy thing to do to tell a 40 year old man that you no longer wish to play for him but I felt in both cases I was doing the right thing for me and handled it with class. I turned out to be right too, as both Langley and Powell River had horrible seasons after I had left their team, not that it had to do with my absence.
I had an unbelievable camp that summer with Chilliwack and seemed destined for that great year in the BCHL I had always hoped for. As the season started, I was plagued by a number of minor injuries including a terrible hip pointer bruise from being hit, innocently going into the boards the wrong way. I also came down with a horrible stomach virus that cost me another missed weekendof games. I was playing on the third line behind a lot of talented kids and only had 1g, 3a through the first 12 games of the season. I was devestated to find out that after only 12 games in to my final season in the BCHL, Harvey Smyl had traded me to the Quesnel Millionaires. They were the worst club by far, year after year. The town was depressed economically and did not support the team which was publicly owned by a board of community members, always a bad sign. Once again I put on my hard hat and made the 7 hour drive north with my dad to Quesnel. I was determined to see my career to the end and not give up on my dream of playing NCAA hockey at a great academic school. The coach there was Gary Kozak. 'Kozy' was a young guy with a lot of energy and a great heart, but he was directing a lost cause. Quesnel could simply not attract enough talented players to ice a competitive line up. I met with Kozy upon arriving at the old barn in Quesnel, "The Vault." He told me that I would have a chance to play as much as I wanted in all situations and lead the team, a role I had never had before in the BCHL. I embraced the opportunity and decided to make the most of my last months in the league. I played on a line for most of that season with Steve Cameron and Joel Leonard. Both were great guys off the ice and we had a lot of fun together in the locker room and on the bus. Cameron was traded to Penticton at the deadline and went on to play NCAA hockey at Mercyhurst. He was a great kid and I enjoyed our time together in the Q. I scored 15 goals that season which after Cameron's departure lead the Mills, even if 15 goals would have been the 4th or 5th highest total on any other team in the league. I learned to love the game again in Quesnel. Knowing that every night we had nothing to lose, I just went out and played the game for fun, trying to do things I would not normally try, knowing that on such a miserable team I could get a way with it. I played as a leader, and I had fun. After two weeks in Quesnel, when I had finally committed to a school for the following year, I was able to just have fun and relax without the stress that almost every player in the league carries with them: worrying about securing their future in the NCAA. Who would have thought that my BCHL career would end in Quesnel, on an 8-win team (we played 60 game seasons).
The best weekend of my BCHL career came late in the season when we made our road trip down to the coast to play Surrey and Chilliwack (my old team) on the same weekend. I was secretly dreading this trip as I thought we would be embarassed in front of all my piers (former teammates), friends, and family who would certainly be out to watch me play. For many of my family members and friends, this would be the last time they saw me play the game. Friday night in Surrey the Mills brought it together for one rare occasion and battled hard. We kept it close and with a few minutes remaining were only down by one goal. I had already drawn an assist on a Joel Leonard goal and was playing well. With about two minutes left there was a face-off in the Surrey end. We put out an extra attacker to make one final push. We won the draw back out our point man, Nicholas Rioux (who went on to play for St. Cloud). I was playing on the wall off the draw and hesitated as a cluster of guys crashed towards the net. I bid my time well and darted towards the crease at the last minute. Rioux's shot came out of the pile right to my stick and I jammed it in at the side of the net. Over time! You have to understand that for a lowly club with only 8 wins, overtime was itself a blessing as it guaranteed a point and saved face for a night. We eventually lost in overtime after both teams traded many chances. Oh well, I had played well in front of my family for the second last game they would see me play.
The next night in Chilliwack would be the true test. Kozy let me skip the bus trip from Surrey to Chilliwack and I rode home with my parents to spend the night at their place, an extremely rare occurance in the BCHL. I enjoyed my family and ate well. The next day I prepared with the team for a tough game. Chilliwack must have been a little off and we were certainly still on from Surrey the night before (which rarely happened) because we kept it close through the third period. On almost the exact same play from the night before I again jammed one in at the side of the net late in the third period to make it 2-1 with minutes to go. The game ended with that score but it was a great moment for me personally. I had represented myself well for the last time in front of the hometown family and friends, as well as many others who had watched me play over the years.
A few weeks after I had arrived in Quesnel, Kozy gave me a package that had been forwarded to me in the mail from Chilliwack. It was from Amherst College. It turns out that Darren Reaume, the assistant coach at Amherst had seen me play while I was still with Chilliwack. He was impressed enough with my play and knew that my grades and SAT's were good enough to get me into Amherst, a 'little ivy' division 3 NCAA school. My first reaction was indifference. It was always nice to hear from schools as a player in the BCHL but everyone in that league wanted to play at a D1 school. In reality, many academically gifted players in that league including me were willing to sell their soul to play D1 hockey at the worst academic school in the United States in the worst conference in D1 hockey. They (myself included) were completely oblivious to some of the amazing opportunities at some of the best academic institutes in the United States, including Amherst and Williams, two of the best schools in the nation. Amherst would be my fate.
I committed to the school without even visiting the campus. Amherst College, like every other D3 school in the nation does not pay for athlete visits. I figured that between my thorough Google search and a phone call from the coach I had enough information to make the right decision. Sign me up! Before hearing from Coach Reaume during that final season in the BCHL, I had never even heard of Amherst. I also spoke to one of the players on the hockey team who had come to Amherst via the BCHL the year before me. 'Burnsy' told me that the education was first class, the opportunities were incredible, the guys on the hockey team were a great bunch, and that there were a ton of good looking rich girls running around the campus. Three of the four claims were truthful it turned out. US Newsweek ranked Amherst as the #2 liberal arts college in the nation (behind only arch-rival Williams) and that was good enough for my parents, not that it really mattered as I wasn't exactly beating back the offers. When you can't have Princeton, a little-ivy ain't bad. And so I was off.
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