Not long ago a friend of mine walked into a place I was at, and most won’t be surprised that it was a bar, carrying what was obviously an old magazine.
He said he and his mother have been collectors of things for all of his life and, that week, had been going through some boxes where they discovered a program from the then newly-formed Calgary Canucks of the Alberta Junior Hockey League. He thought I might be interested, if only because, on an inside page there was a column written by a then disgustingly-handsome Billy Powers of CKXL fame. I say that in all modesty but insist, you remember, that in those days they did not have the magic they do today of touching up photographs. I jest of course.
Anyway, it was a 1972-73 season program and included a column by the late Ed Whalen and a message from the then Calgary Mayor Rod Sykes. But it was another column by an unknown, to me anyway, local writer who had talked about the early years of the Canucks and their success.
This one proved to bring back a memory of one of the saddest stories I’ve ever written.
The writer in the program mentioned that as a result of the Canuck success, several players had received scholarships to American universities. One of those was a goaltender who will not be named in this space, and with good reason as you are soon to find out.
This netminder was an early Canuck and showed incredible talent, enough to be told by some scouts that he might one day play in the National Hockey League.
He was told that he’d won, what they call in the business, a “free ride” at the University of Denver. So with hopes as high as the sky, he and a buddy jumped into a car and drove to Colorado. A free education was in the offing and a chance to show off his goaltending skills on a top-rated college team. And even back then NHL scouts could see that college hockey was not something you didn’t pay attention to.
Saskatchewan-born Billy Hay was a prime example. He went to Colorado College in the late-50s, was discovered and turned professional with the Western Hockey League Calgary Stampeders before joining the NHL’s Chicago Blackhawks. And, while on a line with Bobby Hull and Stan Mikita, helped the club win a Stanley Cup title back in 1961.
In other words, dreams can come true, and our goaltender was thinking along those lines.
Tragedy struck early, though, as on arrival at the university the coach, who will also remain nameless, asked him what he was doing there. He explained he had a scholarship but was told there had been a mistake and his was taken away and given to another goalie that would one day play in the NHL in the future. He too will go unnamed, but a claim to fame for this guy was he was Wayne Gretzky’s best man when “The Great One” tied the knot with Janet in the late 80’s.
Anyway, our man was devastated. His hopes of an education were dashed. His hopes of playing with the best of the world were down the drain.
Now, some people might have been able to bounce back from such sad news. Our guy was not one of them. In fact, while he did try a shot at playing out his junior career in Medicine Hat, the damage was done. He had found beer as his best friend. And the two have been partners ever since.
He calls me every once in a while, almost always in a state that he is not easy to understand. In fact, he called not long ago to tell me it was his birthday and that no one had called him to wish him the best.
I wrote his story in a Calgary Sun piece several years ago and have had to get him many copies because he wears them out showing them to people. He was so proud of that article, even if it told the real story of a life that didn’t go the way it was supposed to. He lives in subsidized housing and is on welfare with most of his extra money going for beer. He tried working several times, mostly as a salesman, but the jobs just never lasted and for obvious reasons.
It’s my personal hope that one day he stops drinking, at least to the extent he does today, and turns his life around. That is, before he drinks himself to death.
I think most will understand why today I’m not finishing this column with a joke.
