got even better. Graham went on to compliment me on my play. He told me to put this one game aside and learn from it. He let me know that he was aware of my ability and successes and that he thought that I had a future in the game if I kept progressing in the right direction. He said that he was prepared to help me, that he had some thoughts on things that could help me, but he definitely did not want to interfere with my current coaches (who, he thought, weren’t that good but must be respected) so we would have to keep this between us to avoid causing offense. Same with my dad—don’t tell him, as my coaches would eventually find out. Keep this to myself, at least for the next little while, and we’ll see what we can do. He said he would get in touch when we were back in Winnipeg. And with that, we agreed to speak when back in Winnipeg.
I remember getting on our team bus to head back to Winnipeg not caring one bit about the fact that we had lost the regional finals. Instead, all I could think about was that one of the leading figures in our hockey world thought I had a future in the game and was prepared to work with me.
That was the random event that caused our paths to cross. Those were the random words uttered by me in frustration that changed my life. Some might assume that I would wish I had never apologized to him. But I see it differently: it was my fault and I wish I had never been rude to him. In the end, nothing mattered. I was nobody to him, just an opportunity, a potential victim.
Not too long after we were back in Winnipeg, Graham started following my team around and showing up at games. Seeing him there, knowing he was watching me, I felt flattered. In those days before email, texting, cell phones, even voice mail or home recording machines, he could have just called my house and asked for me. But he never made direct contact with me anywhere other than at a hockey rink. He was always surrounded by other coaches or kids in hockey jackets, near the canteens at the rinks that everybody passes on the way in and out of arenas. It provided him with a perfect opportunity to grab a quick minute of conversation with me while my dad was waiting for me in the car. If he ever needed to get in touch with me, he could always easily find me.
Eventually, Graham suggested that we get together at a local restaurant. I was so excited that somebody of his stature in our hockey community wanted to meet with me, and I could hardly wait until the day came.
THE DAY FINALLY came. I had just turned fifteen and didn’t yet drive, so I had to walk there, about a fifteen- or twenty-minute walk. I was so excited. I wanted to make a good impression, and I most definitely didn’t want to be late, so I arrived very early. Because I had very little money with me, I sat drinking several glasses of water while I waited for him. The waitress asked if I was going to order something or just sit there. I was quiet and nervous. Eventually Graham showed up.
“Greg, sorry, Gil, sorry I’m late.”
He wasn’t late. Graham can be very charming. He was just less early than I was and wanted to put me at ease for being a dork who showed up way too early for our meeting. He immediately made me feel like the most important, successful young person he had ever come across. He gushed with praise about my hockey talents as well as my success at school.
“So, I hear you’re a bit of a genius. What’s your favorite subject?”
“Yeah, right. I don’t know. Math, English, stuff like that.”
I was clearly a brilliant conversationalist.
It was apparent that he had done his research, as he seemed to know more than I thought he would about who I was and what I had already done. He said that he had seen me play a game at a tournament the year before and was amazed at my talent. He complimented me on how others spoke of me, both as a player and as a person off the ice, saying I was well known as an intelligent, well-mannered, respectful, and very hard-working young man.
Besides flattering me, Graham started digging for more about me.
“You know, I think that a strong family upbringing can be helpful in developing character. Most of the guys on my team have great parents. But it’s also possible that coming from a tough family background can make you into an even stronger person. What’s your family like?”
I gave him a bit of information, but not the whole story. “We’re OK, I guess.”
He told me about his team, shared some hockey secrets, asked about my school, and touched on current affairs. Our discussion was very exciting for me, and I felt as if I were being brought into the inner workings of the local hockey community. Knowing about my success at school and my interest in academics, he played up his position as a teacher and let on that he was highly educated. And he immediately homed in on the potential issues that might be at play.
“I know what it’s like to be very smart and good at school while also playing sports. The other guys can sometimes make it hard on you. It can be a lonely place. I understand.”
By engaging me, adult to youth, as somebody who mattered, by listening intently to my every word without dismissing me or yelling at me, Graham instantly became somebody I thought I could talk to, somebody I wanted to talk to, somebody I respected and admired for the simple reason that he made me feel that I finally had a meaningful voice outside of the classroom. It was the first time my intellectual side had been respected and encouraged outside of school, in the real world. I didn’t have that at home. And all it took was this one conversation to make me feel good about myself.
I don’t remember things like what he was wearing or what we ate, the kind of things you think would be etched in my memory. I do remember looking down as he went on and on about me, breaking eye contact with him out of embarrassment, and seeing a stain on my hockey team jacket next to the team crest and worrying that he would see that stain and think I was a slob for having spilled milk on it earlier and not cleaning it properly.
Mostly, I remember getting up from the table and feeling almost dizzy, slightly removed from the situation while thinking that this couldn’t be happening. How lucky was I? How cool was this? It was amazing.
And of course, I had a long time to think about it because I walked home. It wouldn’t be right, he said, for us to be seen together. And he told me to keep our contact secret—something he would reiterate at each of our meetings.
I thought it had been one of the best days of my life.
WE CONTINUED TO meet at the same restaurant every few weeks or so for a few months.
Over time I became increasingly at ease discussing things with him. From answering with a simple “OK” when he asked about my relationship with my parents at our first meeting, I increasingly opened up when he later circled back to the issue. I slowly, gradually let him in on the isolation I was experiencing at home and divulged how difficult it was no longer having my best friend around all the time.
He would tell me that I was better than the rest of my teammates and that I deserved better coaching, coaching that respected both my physical skills and my brain. He would go on and on about hockey strategy, stressing that a goalie should know more than anybody else on the team about how the patterns of the game work because goalies have to participate actively in a team’s own defense while at the same time responding to the other team’s offense.
“You know, traditionally, goaltenders in minor hockey have been ignored when it comes to teaching hockey theory. Do your coaches teach systems of offense and defense?”
“Well, they run drills for us with the guys having to be in different places in different situations.”
“But do they give
