Thanks so much Sarah for pointing me in the direction of this very inspirational story. It was a wonderful read - very moving and insightful. So much so in fact, I decided to re-post it in its entirety here on my blog for those who may have missed it in the paper.
I will admit that I don't watch hockey and have no idea who Ryan Johnson is but this is a story & lesson that transcends sports, the ice-rink and even Ryan himself ...
As I read the words I felt many emotions and grew misty eyed & thoughtful - as I am sure - did most who have read it .
What an amazing story to share with us - after reading it I spent a great deal of time just thinking about family, friends, children and all the ties that not only bind but also serve as my tether to keep me from drifting too far off course in life but, you are right Sarah, it is the lesson about facing your fears and not letting them stop you or slow you down as you chase your dreams that brings this story to life for most of us.
Today - Katy is facing one her biggest challenges & fears - today she is interviewing with the Veterinary College Admissions Board to try and 'sell' them on why they should pick her as one of the 'chosen few' who is selected to begin Vet school in September (it's very competitive)
And as I wait to hear back from her, I think on what Ryan Johnson wrote about his father and I understand what he meant - I am proud of Katy today because , win or lose, accepted or not, she has become a person who is brave enough to face her fears, stay the course, do the work, and go after her dreams with all her might ...
Again Sarah, thanks for sharing.
Words to inspire & reminders of what matter most ....
For a kid growing up in Thunder Bay, Ont., my
upbringing was what one might expect. Being one of four children --
three boys and a girl -- more hours were spent weekly being carted
between hockey arenas in our family station wagon than were spent in
the comfort of our own home.
What at the time seemed completely
normal now seems like an incredible test of patience and sacrifice that
my parents endured. Never mind the expense of four children playing and
practising nightly, but trying to manage meals, homework and everyday
life must have felt like a neverending race. So, fittingly, it was
through the great Canadian pastime that many of our morals, values and
lessons were taught to us.
My father Jim, a lawyer by trade, was
a passionate hockey fan from a young age. He played at the university
level, but found his true calling in not just coaching, but building
programs and arenas that would help change the lives of Thunder Bay
kids for decades to come. The Thunder Bay Minor Hockey Program,
Lakehead University Thunderwolves, and the Thunder Bay Tournament
Centre were just a few of his accomplishments that stemmed from his
passion for the sport and what it could do for the people of our city.
But it wasn't about how good a hockey player one could become, it was
how good a person one could become through the game of hockey.
My
Dad and I were very different people, yet very much the same. Where he
enjoyed discussing politics, I enjoyed talking horses. Where he liked
to build with a hammer and nails, I wanted to create with a guitar. But
through our differences, there was always respect, and the courtesy to
listen and learn about each other's loves.
Thankfully, hockey
brought us a common ground that we could watch, play and discuss for
days at a time. From the earliest of memories, along with family and
friends, it was the one constant for us. I loved the afternoons of
games on the outdoor rink in the backyard with my brothers and friends,
but dreaded the evenings of skating figure eights around the garbage
cans. I longed for the games at the community centre with the older
kids, but wondered why I was stickhandling around pylons after the game.
As
I got older, I slowly started to come to some realizations. Every
discussion we had on the hockey rink had nothing at all to do with the
game itself. Hockey was just the canvas that my father used that could
pertain to all areas of life in general.
I can't explain how
lucky I am to be able to say that my mentor, leader and best friend
just happened to be my father. After battling cancer courageously, he
passed away on June 7, 2008. Not a day goes by that I don't reflect on
or refer to his guidance, and amazingly still find myself digesting or
understanding new lessons from years ago. I can only hope that in
sharing a few of these, you are able to relate to them in your own way
with your father/mother or son/daughter.
After being drafted in
the second round by the Florida Panthers as a 17-year-old, my focus was
quickly directed on what I could accomplish, the opportunity I had just
been given, and not on what being drafted entitled me to. Throw in the
fact that I was poised to leave home for the first time to become a
freshman at the University of North Dakota, and obviously there was a
lot running through my mind.
As the days
quickly came closer for me to leave, the thought -- "Am I ready for
this?" -- came even quicker. Sensing some hesitation in my body
language, my father approached me in my room while I had my head in my
hands. He asked me a couple of simple questions that I will never
forget. "Where do you think the best musician in the world is right
now? What do you think the smartest scientist in the world is doing?"
As I mustered some sort of reply, my Dad interrupted with a response
that relieved me of any hesitation from that point on. "They are not
playing to sold-out stadiums around the world, or sitting in labs
finding the cure for cancer. They are sitting somewhere flipping
burgers or scrubbing toilets because they didn't have the courage to
put themselves out there. They weren't brave enough to succeed if it
meant facing some failure, and for that, they will live with regret for
the rest of their lives." He proceeded to pat me on the back and leave
me to my thoughts.
It quickly registered that the safe and easy
thing to do would be to stay at home another year, play junior hockey
for a second season, and be comfortable in the surroundings of my
family and friends. But I was not in search of safe and easy things for
my life. Early the next morning I left for what would be two of the
greatest years of my young life.
My oldest brother Greg played 13
seasons in the NHL. Unfortunately, he was forced into retirement
because of a heart ailment known as Cardio Myopythy. As a precaution,
my whole family was advised to run the gamut of testing to make sure we
didn't have the same condition.
After a slight irregularity in my
basic testing was reported, I was advised to attend the Mayo Clinic in
Rochester, Minn., in order to be able to be cleared to start the season
with the St. Louis Blues. The doctors concluded I was fine, but needed
to go through one last procedure before being cleared. It was a
simulated heart attack that would determine how quickly my heart would
recover from any irregularities in the beating of the heart.
As
much as I was assured the test would go fine, they did warn against
possible risks of putting the heart through such a test. We all know
what that means. As much as I tried to downplay the situation, my
father knew how not only the procedure could affect me, but what the
result of it might mean for the rest of my career and future. He was on
the first flight out of Thunder Bay to be with me at the Mayo.
As
we sat in a tiny Italian restaurant the night before the procedure, it
was hard not to think of the whatifs. I could see in my Dad's eyes that
he wasn't even sure I should be going through this test all.
Nonetheless, we discussed what I might do if I was advised to end my
career and move on. I thought the obvious thing would be to go back to
school and finish my university education that had escaped me because
of the fact I turned pro after two years.
His
response caught me a little off guard. He emphatically stated, "Why
would you waste your time going back to school? Look what you have
accomplished by making it to the NHL. You had no blueprint to follow.
The only reason you made it there was because you made a decision in
your mind that that's what you wanted, and you did everything you
possibly could to get there. If you apply that to any other endeavour
in life, you'll be just as successful."
I look at most success
stories in sports, business, entrepreneurialship, etc, and there really
isn't a blueprint for success. The one common denominator is that they
all had the willingness to work, and to sacrifice regardless of the
hand they were dealt. I survived the procedure and received the results
I was hoping for. I said bye to my Dad at the airport, and returned to
St. Louis to continue to do the little things that allowed me to have
the greatest job in the world.
Me or we?
I don't have
enough fingers to possibly count how many times I, or any professional
athlete for that matter, has gone into what most would call a slump. It
is as natural a part of the game as tying your skates or taping your
stick. To the surprise of most, the duration or severity of these
struggles often lies not in how one sees themselves, but how they see
others. Odd, I know, but my father taught me at a young age the
old-school cliche that a person's true character shines true when they
are down and out. To take it a step further, as my professional journey
progressed, it was made clear to me that I could have my greatest
influence on others when I was not at my best.
There are two
different roads one can travel when things aren't going their way. One:
Hang their head in hopes that everyone knows they aren't happy with
themselves. In doing so, creating a negative energy that can become
contagious and draw attention to their displeasure. Misery does indeed
love company.
Or, two: They can direct their attention to a
teammate or co-worker that might be having a tough time as well.
Encouraging them as if they were the most important conversation you
will have that day. Odds are, the two will dig themselves out of a hole
together, rather than dig a deeper hole.
In the summer of 2007,
my sister was to be married. As my Dad continued to weaken due to his
chemotherapy sessions, the question of whether the wedding should go on
was in all of our minds. Of course, Dad would not allow a thought of
any postponement to exist. As the wedding ceremony began and moved
through the evening, he sensed a hesitation of smiles and celebration
due to his condition.
When it came time for Dad and my mother
Judy to speak about my sister and brother-in-law, he took the time to
challenge all who had been invited. He asked anyone who felt sorry for
him, or thought of this as a mournful occasion, to please get up and go
home. People instantly sat up straighter in there seats. Tears turned
to smiles. He promised he would be the first person to the dance floor
and the last to leave the festivities. He was right.
In the toughest of times, my father saw solutions, not problems.
A 'final moment' awaits
I
spend part of my offseason back in Thunder Bay. I have a small lake
house that is about 20 minutes from town, that feels like 20 hours from
civilization.
It was maybe my Dad's favourite place in the world.
It was there we spent many hours piddling around doing odd and ends,
sipping wine and arguing over the music being played, and breaking
bread over the hockey season that was, and the one that would soon be.
Soon
after his passing, a tree was planted in his memory on the crest of a
grassy knoll that overlooks the water. A bench sits in front of the
tree with a view through a split of trees that offers the best of
sunsets every evening. His presence can be felt everywhere through the
water, sun and land.
Like any great teacher-student relationship,
that student usually must achieve his final triumph without his/her
mentor. So this is how I have digested the events of our family's loss.
I am convinced that somehow, someway, the 32 years of our journey
together, will culminate into one final moment -- that moment being the
day I can take Lord Stanley's Cup back to that grassy knoll on Oliver
Lake in Thunder Bay.
There I will sit surrounded by his presence
in the water, sun and land, and know that he is proud. Not proud of the
fact that I am sitting with the Stanley Cup, but the person I became in
my pursuit of it.
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