Kiss your families and girlfriends goodbye -- for you, the best road to stardom runs through the Western Hockey League, a tough circuit on which players aged 15 to 20 play 36 games away from home each season. We joined the WHL's Vancouver Giants on the longest trip in their history, a seven-game, nine-night swing that took their bus through three Canadian provinces and a U.S. state
For Jordan McLaughlin, who chases the NHL dream, it was one of those moments of total clarity.
It hit him unexpectedly, at 2 a.m., in the near-total darkness of Calgary's Saddledome.
Just hours earlier, there had been a tough loss down the highway in Swift Current. Now, while hockey equipment was being unloaded from the Vancouver Giants' team bus and stored for a morning practice, the 18-year-old goaltender found himself drawn to the visitors' bench.
He was tired. Five-games-in-six-nights tired. But stronger than his fatigue was his faith. Studies have shown that for every child playing minor hockey, the odds are just under 1,000-to-1 that they will play a game in the National Hockey League. Yet on this early morning, the dream seemed more real than ever.
"I had chills going down my spine," the Edmonton native would say the next morning over breakfast. "It was an eerie feeling. I was just kind of imagining what the place would be like with a Stanley Cup game going on. Then I thought about all the NHL guys that have sat at that bench."
There is no better place for McLaughlin and his teammates to chase the NHL dream and perhaps even the 2010 Winter Olympics than the Western Hockey League.
"Everybody that plays an Olympic sport dreams of playing for Canada, or wherever your home country is," said Giants' 17-year-old winger Mitch Bartley, a Maple Ridge native.
"It would be awesome to play for your home country, especially if it was here in Vancouver."
For the third straight year, the WHL had more players selected in the NHL entry draft than any other league in the world. Yet there is no tougher place to play than the 19-team loop -- stretching from B.C. to Manitoba and south into Washington and Oregon states -- that relies exclusively on bus transportation to play its 36-game road schedule.
By the time the Giants had completed the most ambitious trip in team history earlier this month -- a seven-game, nine-night odyssey that sent them through Cranbrook, Spokane, Wash., Lethbridge, Medicine Hat, Swift Current, Red Deer and Calgary -- they had logged 4,233 kilometres and a distinct lack of sleep to go along with three wins, three losses and a tie.
"There was a lot of gambling going on but we were just playing for raisins because we were kind of strapped for money," laughed 19-year-old vet Mark Ardelan, a farm boy from Avonlea, Sask., of the card games that are a part of life at the back of the team bus.
A new life
Players are drafted into the WHL at age 15 and they can play a limited number of games with their teams the first season. The best ones begin chasing the dream full-time at 16.
In almost every instance it involves saying goodbye to family, buddies and girlfriends. Yes, there is a huge adjustment skill-wise to the pace of the league. But the most challenging part of the learning curve is adapting to life without mom and dad.
On a Monday morning at Calgary's Corral, Cindy Bertram is sitting with other parents of a number of 15-year-old prospects who have gathered to skate with the Giants veterans. As the next season approaches, there comes the realization that her son, Daniel, will be leaving home to play in Vancouver.
The morning of the skate, mother and son sat together over breakfast reading the local paper. There were stories of all of the young people who had died in the recent avalanche tragedy. Immediately, Daniel Bertram, touted as perhaps the best 15-year-old player in Alberta, noticed that he had played hockey against one of those kids, Scott Broshko.
"Daniel went to his fifth birthday party," Cindy explained. "We took a minute this morning and we thought, 'Wow, this little guy was just 15 and now his family doesn't have him any more.' I know it hit Dan when he read it. And it does hit close to home. I just thought to myself, 'I cherish every moment I have with him.'"
Giants defenceman Mark Fistric, an Edmontonian playing full-time this season at age 16, can relate to the pains that must be endured to chase the dream. Mature beyond his years, Fistric says that the real growth comes when you're accepted into a new family of 20-plus players, all making the same sacrifices.
"I am very close to my family," Fistric says, standing in the hallway of his hotel room in Lethbridge, just before catching a pre-game nap. "But when you come down to Vancouver, it's kind of like your team becomes your family now. It's who we spend 98 per cent of our time with."
It's a series of seasons within a season, says the Giants' general manager, Scott Bonner.
"The first season is when the players come to training camp and they have to say goodbye to mom and dad, and that's tough on every kid. Mom is bawling and dad, as much as he's acting tough, it's crushing him, too.
"Then you go through the first road trip of the year before Christmas and you see mom and dad again. Then you have to say goodbye all over again. Mom's crying, dad's acting tough.
"Then you get Christmas break. The kids go home. They eat the whole turkey, they get out of shape and they struggle. Plus, mom's crying and dad's acting tough. Everyone loves their family and there's so many emotional highs and lows."
No glitz, no glamour
The NHL's Chicago Blackhawks finished a seven-game road trip around the same time as the Giants finished theirs. The Blackhawks did the trip in 17 days, the Giants in nine.
Small towns. Hectic schedules. Strict curfews. It begs the question: What keeps these guys busy when they're not on the ice?
"What do we do?" asks 17-year-old defenceman Mark Ashton while hanging out with teammates Mitch Bartley and Triston Grant amid half-packed bags and unmade beds during the first stop of the trip in Cranbrook.
"You're looking at it. We sleep. Sometimes we'll get a card game going. Or, depending on what kind of mood we're in, we'll take a walk down the street to the gas station."
A slice of road life, Giants-style?
Try Red Deer. In the hours before the game, there's 16-year-old Landon Jones ironing the dress shirt players wear on the bus.
"The hardest part," he says, "is getting that little spot right behind the collar."
Try Lethbridge. Adam Courchaine, the team's 18-year-old scoring ace, had not slept for two days after getting dental surgery following a stick in the mouth. Doctors told him he'd miss three games but he missed just one. When the rest of the team left for an evening function, Courchaine's company was trainer Colin Robinson, an ice pack and the Maple Leafs game on TV that night.
And for the younger Giants, there is also the reality of high school. The six Grade 11 and Grade 12 players on the team hit the road with their textbooks. In both Lethbridge and Calgary, the players are met by tutors who ensure that they are continuing to work on their assignments.
"When you have school and hockey to concentrate on, sometimes the two don't mix together," admits Bartley.
Bartley is then asked about his latest assignment, a tribute poem he wrote about Ashton, his teammate and friend. Someone grabs it and reads the first two verses:
Standing all alone
In a world of his own
There's one person who passes the test
A person of fire
One who's desired
And who rises above the rest
"I always try to look at school ahead of hockey, but sometimes I get off track," Bartley admits. "I've messed up. But I am trying to balance it all out."
And what about those girls, sometimes referred to as puck bunnies? The ones who seem to be waiting for the players after games on the road?
"There's girls everywhere we go, but we have to be responsible," says Ashton. "We're here to play hockey and curfew is strict."
Then the laughter breaks out. Pillows begin to fly.
The order of things
"Is it cuz they like my gangsta walk? Is it cuz they like my gangsta talk?"
No, Eminem isn't on the Giants' bus. Instead, Ardelan, Richard Hamula, Kevin Seibel and Darren Lynch are proving that hockey players from the Prairies can rap with the best of them, much to the amusement of a visitor seated in their midst during a drive to a team dinner in Calgary.
The Giants -- a collection of teenagers nearly exclusively from Western Canada -- are a little bit country and a little bit rock and roll most of the time. But when "Area Codes" by the rapper Ludacris is played over the stereo system, the card game of Texas Hold 'Em being waged at the back of the bus comes to a halt.
They are the veterans, the 19- and 20-year-olds who have paid their dues over four or five seasons for the right to sit at the back of the bus, where status means more leg room to sleep.
In the WHL, there is no such thing as random order. Hierarchy is king, and everyone has their place within the team order.
That much is apparent as the team's driver, ex-Delta cop Derek Holloway, pulls the bus into the parking lot of Joey Tomatoes restaurant.
When the doors swing open, none of the players at the front of the bus moves. Instead, a clear path is reserved for the veterans.
First, it's the 20-year-olds. Then come the 19s, the 18s, 17s and finally the 16-year-old rookies. When order is breached and an 18-year-old cuts in front, Lynch puts him in his place.
"It's just the way the team is policed," says Seibel, 19. "The way order is set. It just teaches you the respect factor."
As the team sits down to dinner, rookies Joe Logan, Landon Jones and Clay Turko see they're in fine company. Players from the NHL's Anaheim Mighty Ducks, in town to play the Flames, are being seated and the Giants are ordering off the menu just like them.
Sweatshop myths
There are critics of the WHL who have called the league a sweatshop that exploits the players for the good of its owners. Yet spend any time around the Giants and you see that they live life as well as any pro team outside of the big four pro leagues.
Their bus is equipped with the latest sound and video system. They stay at top-notch hotels and eat at restaurants like The Keg and Earls, ordering off the menu with a $25 spending limit. One night in Lethbridge, the entire team shot billiards under supervision of the coaching staff.
It's a lot different from the days when the Giants' 38-year-old head coach, Dean Evason, toiled with Spokane and Kamloops.
"We'd never eat at restaurants," Evason laughs. "We'd go to McDonald's and have burgers and fries or else we'd bring pizza on the bus, and the bus didn't smell very good. And we'd very rarely stay overnight anywhere ... and when we did stay overnight, it was always motels.
"But to be honest, I thought the Western League was luxurious ... and kids today should, too. Everybody sees the almighty dollar in the NHL but junior is a wonderful experience and to have that, regardless of where you stay or eat, it's tremendous."
But then, as always, it's back onto the bus, where bonds are developed, where chemistry is built. And there was no better indication of that than after each of the three road wins.
First, the hands start clapping. Then, as the early '80s hit "Come On, Eileen" begins to blare over the speakers, there's a unified chorus of: "Come on, Eileen-too-loo-rye-aye, Come on, Eileen too-loo-rye-aye ..."
It's their song. Their victory song. And with that, the boys on the bus head home, one step closer, they hope, to the dream they all chase.
GeneralPete@Hotmail.Com
For Jordan McLaughlin, who chases the NHL dream, it was one of those moments of total clarity.
It hit him unexpectedly, at 2 a.m., in the near-total darkness of Calgary's Saddledome.
Just hours earlier, there had been a tough loss down the highway in Swift Current. Now, while hockey equipment was being unloaded from the Vancouver Giants' team bus and stored for a morning practice, the 18-year-old goaltender found himself drawn to the visitors' bench.
He was tired. Five-games-in-six-nights tired. But stronger than his fatigue was his faith. Studies have shown that for every child playing minor hockey, the odds are just under 1,000-to-1 that they will play a game in the National Hockey League. Yet on this early morning, the dream seemed more real than ever.
"I had chills going down my spine," the Edmonton native would say the next morning over breakfast. "It was an eerie feeling. I was just kind of imagining what the place would be like with a Stanley Cup game going on. Then I thought about all the NHL guys that have sat at that bench."
There is no better place for McLaughlin and his teammates to chase the NHL dream and perhaps even the 2010 Winter Olympics than the Western Hockey League.
"Everybody that plays an Olympic sport dreams of playing for Canada, or wherever your home country is," said Giants' 17-year-old winger Mitch Bartley, a Maple Ridge native.
"It would be awesome to play for your home country, especially if it was here in Vancouver."
For the third straight year, the WHL had more players selected in the NHL entry draft than any other league in the world. Yet there is no tougher place to play than the 19-team loop -- stretching from B.C. to Manitoba and south into Washington and Oregon states -- that relies exclusively on bus transportation to play its 36-game road schedule.
By the time the Giants had completed the most ambitious trip in team history earlier this month -- a seven-game, nine-night odyssey that sent them through Cranbrook, Spokane, Wash., Lethbridge, Medicine Hat, Swift Current, Red Deer and Calgary -- they had logged 4,233 kilometres and a distinct lack of sleep to go along with three wins, three losses and a tie.
"There was a lot of gambling going on but we were just playing for raisins because we were kind of strapped for money," laughed 19-year-old vet Mark Ardelan, a farm boy from Avonlea, Sask., of the card games that are a part of life at the back of the team bus.
A new life
Players are drafted into the WHL at age 15 and they can play a limited number of games with their teams the first season. The best ones begin chasing the dream full-time at 16.
In almost every instance it involves saying goodbye to family, buddies and girlfriends. Yes, there is a huge adjustment skill-wise to the pace of the league. But the most challenging part of the learning curve is adapting to life without mom and dad.
On a Monday morning at Calgary's Corral, Cindy Bertram is sitting with other parents of a number of 15-year-old prospects who have gathered to skate with the Giants veterans. As the next season approaches, there comes the realization that her son, Daniel, will be leaving home to play in Vancouver.
The morning of the skate, mother and son sat together over breakfast reading the local paper. There were stories of all of the young people who had died in the recent avalanche tragedy. Immediately, Daniel Bertram, touted as perhaps the best 15-year-old player in Alberta, noticed that he had played hockey against one of those kids, Scott Broshko.
"Daniel went to his fifth birthday party," Cindy explained. "We took a minute this morning and we thought, 'Wow, this little guy was just 15 and now his family doesn't have him any more.' I know it hit Dan when he read it. And it does hit close to home. I just thought to myself, 'I cherish every moment I have with him.'"
Giants defenceman Mark Fistric, an Edmontonian playing full-time this season at age 16, can relate to the pains that must be endured to chase the dream. Mature beyond his years, Fistric says that the real growth comes when you're accepted into a new family of 20-plus players, all making the same sacrifices.
"I am very close to my family," Fistric says, standing in the hallway of his hotel room in Lethbridge, just before catching a pre-game nap. "But when you come down to Vancouver, it's kind of like your team becomes your family now. It's who we spend 98 per cent of our time with."
It's a series of seasons within a season, says the Giants' general manager, Scott Bonner.
"The first season is when the players come to training camp and they have to say goodbye to mom and dad, and that's tough on every kid. Mom is bawling and dad, as much as he's acting tough, it's crushing him, too.
"Then you go through the first road trip of the year before Christmas and you see mom and dad again. Then you have to say goodbye all over again. Mom's crying, dad's acting tough.
"Then you get Christmas break. The kids go home. They eat the whole turkey, they get out of shape and they struggle. Plus, mom's crying and dad's acting tough. Everyone loves their family and there's so many emotional highs and lows."
No glitz, no glamour
The NHL's Chicago Blackhawks finished a seven-game road trip around the same time as the Giants finished theirs. The Blackhawks did the trip in 17 days, the Giants in nine.
Small towns. Hectic schedules. Strict curfews. It begs the question: What keeps these guys busy when they're not on the ice?
"What do we do?" asks 17-year-old defenceman Mark Ashton while hanging out with teammates Mitch Bartley and Triston Grant amid half-packed bags and unmade beds during the first stop of the trip in Cranbrook.
"You're looking at it. We sleep. Sometimes we'll get a card game going. Or, depending on what kind of mood we're in, we'll take a walk down the street to the gas station."
A slice of road life, Giants-style?
Try Red Deer. In the hours before the game, there's 16-year-old Landon Jones ironing the dress shirt players wear on the bus.
"The hardest part," he says, "is getting that little spot right behind the collar."
Try Lethbridge. Adam Courchaine, the team's 18-year-old scoring ace, had not slept for two days after getting dental surgery following a stick in the mouth. Doctors told him he'd miss three games but he missed just one. When the rest of the team left for an evening function, Courchaine's company was trainer Colin Robinson, an ice pack and the Maple Leafs game on TV that night.
And for the younger Giants, there is also the reality of high school. The six Grade 11 and Grade 12 players on the team hit the road with their textbooks. In both Lethbridge and Calgary, the players are met by tutors who ensure that they are continuing to work on their assignments.
"When you have school and hockey to concentrate on, sometimes the two don't mix together," admits Bartley.
Bartley is then asked about his latest assignment, a tribute poem he wrote about Ashton, his teammate and friend. Someone grabs it and reads the first two verses:
Standing all alone
In a world of his own
There's one person who passes the test
A person of fire
One who's desired
And who rises above the rest
"I always try to look at school ahead of hockey, but sometimes I get off track," Bartley admits. "I've messed up. But I am trying to balance it all out."
And what about those girls, sometimes referred to as puck bunnies? The ones who seem to be waiting for the players after games on the road?
"There's girls everywhere we go, but we have to be responsible," says Ashton. "We're here to play hockey and curfew is strict."
Then the laughter breaks out. Pillows begin to fly.
The order of things
"Is it cuz they like my gangsta walk? Is it cuz they like my gangsta talk?"
No, Eminem isn't on the Giants' bus. Instead, Ardelan, Richard Hamula, Kevin Seibel and Darren Lynch are proving that hockey players from the Prairies can rap with the best of them, much to the amusement of a visitor seated in their midst during a drive to a team dinner in Calgary.
The Giants -- a collection of teenagers nearly exclusively from Western Canada -- are a little bit country and a little bit rock and roll most of the time. But when "Area Codes" by the rapper Ludacris is played over the stereo system, the card game of Texas Hold 'Em being waged at the back of the bus comes to a halt.
They are the veterans, the 19- and 20-year-olds who have paid their dues over four or five seasons for the right to sit at the back of the bus, where status means more leg room to sleep.
In the WHL, there is no such thing as random order. Hierarchy is king, and everyone has their place within the team order.
That much is apparent as the team's driver, ex-Delta cop Derek Holloway, pulls the bus into the parking lot of Joey Tomatoes restaurant.
When the doors swing open, none of the players at the front of the bus moves. Instead, a clear path is reserved for the veterans.
First, it's the 20-year-olds. Then come the 19s, the 18s, 17s and finally the 16-year-old rookies. When order is breached and an 18-year-old cuts in front, Lynch puts him in his place.
"It's just the way the team is policed," says Seibel, 19. "The way order is set. It just teaches you the respect factor."
As the team sits down to dinner, rookies Joe Logan, Landon Jones and Clay Turko see they're in fine company. Players from the NHL's Anaheim Mighty Ducks, in town to play the Flames, are being seated and the Giants are ordering off the menu just like them.
Sweatshop myths
There are critics of the WHL who have called the league a sweatshop that exploits the players for the good of its owners. Yet spend any time around the Giants and you see that they live life as well as any pro team outside of the big four pro leagues.
Their bus is equipped with the latest sound and video system. They stay at top-notch hotels and eat at restaurants like The Keg and Earls, ordering off the menu with a $25 spending limit. One night in Lethbridge, the entire team shot billiards under supervision of the coaching staff.
It's a lot different from the days when the Giants' 38-year-old head coach, Dean Evason, toiled with Spokane and Kamloops.
"We'd never eat at restaurants," Evason laughs. "We'd go to McDonald's and have burgers and fries or else we'd bring pizza on the bus, and the bus didn't smell very good. And we'd very rarely stay overnight anywhere ... and when we did stay overnight, it was always motels.
"But to be honest, I thought the Western League was luxurious ... and kids today should, too. Everybody sees the almighty dollar in the NHL but junior is a wonderful experience and to have that, regardless of where you stay or eat, it's tremendous."
But then, as always, it's back onto the bus, where bonds are developed, where chemistry is built. And there was no better indication of that than after each of the three road wins.
First, the hands start clapping. Then, as the early '80s hit "Come On, Eileen" begins to blare over the speakers, there's a unified chorus of: "Come on, Eileen-too-loo-rye-aye, Come on, Eileen too-loo-rye-aye ..."
It's their song. Their victory song. And with that, the boys on the bus head home, one step closer, they hope, to the dream they all chase.
GeneralPete@Hotmail.Com
