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Ecw Press - Terry Ryan

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101 pages

English

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Terry Ryan was poised to take the hockey world by storm when he was selected eighth overall by the Montreal Canadiens in the 1995 NHL draft, their highest draft pick in a decade. Expected to go on to become a hockey star, Ryan played a total of eight NHL games for the Canadiens, scoring no goals and no assists: not exactly the career he, or anyone else, was expecting. Though Terry's NHL career wasn't long, he experienced a lot and has no shortage of hilarious and fascinating revelations about life in pro hockey on and off the ice.

Sujets

Hockey sobre hielo

Ice hockey

Informations

Publié par	Ecw Press
Date de parution	01 mai 2014
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781770905047
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0500€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Terry Ryan

ecw press

This book is dedicated to my family and each and every one of my past teammates.

Foreword
by
Arron Asham

When Newf asked me to write a piece for his book, I wasn’t sure where to start. (I call TR “Newf,” by the way — that’s what we all called him back in our Western Hockey League days.) I haven’t done one of these things before, but Newf and I shared some great experiences and he’s a good pal — so here we are. We were roommates on team road trips playing junior hockey for Red Deer, and when we made the transition from junior to pro we remained close as members of the Fredericton Canadiens and eventually the Montreal Canadiens. We spent a lot of time with the Habs as “black aces” — players who practised with the team as fifth-liners and wouldn’t get into the lineup unless there was an injury to one of the veteran players. They were great times because the Habs were bringing us along slowly and giving us some experience with the big club. We had no pressure on us and could still claim we played for the Habs, so let’s just say we had a lot of fun with that kind of status. Nearly every day, whether we were shopping for clothes, eating a meal, or having a beer, Newf would make eye contact with me and whisper, “Ash . . . can you fucking believe we play in the NHL ?” I’m not exaggerating, either. On the road, when we hit some random pub, within a half an hour Newf would be on the mic, singing songs with the band while trying his hand at stand-up comedy between sets and talking about his hockey stories to anyone who would listen. He loved life and meeting new people. Newf’s energy lit up the room, and I must admit I needed his incredibly honest, unique brand of humour sometimes. Pro hockey isn’t as easy as you think. Sure, it comes with fame and glory, especially at the NHL level, but there’s always pressure to perform, and you are only ever as good as your last shift. Even now, after more than a decade in the NHL , I can honestly tell you I never felt my job was safe. Probably because it never was. I learned what it took to be a good teammate from my buddy Newf, and it paid off. I am not taking anything away from my own accomplishment at all, I just think you need to pick things up along the way from your close friends, and Newf is a guy I shared a passion for hockey with and also an appreciation for our place in the game. I am not sure if we taught each other anything new, but we share similar characteristics on and off the ice and we’d usually bring out the best in each other. From the minute he came sauntering into our Red Deer Rebels dressing room in 1997 in his snakeskin cowboy boots, rambling on about his crazy experiences, I knew we’d get along.
During the 1998 – 99 season, we both played on the same line for Fredericton of the American Hockey League. Myself, Newf, and Scott King had pretty good seasons that year, and Newf and I got into more than our fair share of fisticuffs. We played in a tough division and were always ready to tangle because it usually meant giving the team a spark and showing the big club we were determined. Sometimes we were just pissed off, though; we both play with a bit of a temper!
We were in Hershey on one particular evening, playing in their old barn, the Hersheypark Arena, which had been around since the 1930 s. I got into a few fights on the trip, and in one of them I had injured my right hand hitting a helmet. My hand was fractured but I could still shoot and pass. Getting into another fight would have been stupid, but once the game started I had words with Jeff Buchanan — a big, tough defender who was hard to play against. A few shifts into the second period, I told Newf I was gonna ask him to go. “Fuck that Ash, we are playing well, man. Don’t hurt your hand. One more period and this road trip is over, and we can currently call it a success,” Newf said. “Moose (Dave Morissette, our toughest player) will go talk to him and settle things down. If you get into a tilt, you could be done for the year.”
I agreed with Newf, but when we took the ice for the next shift, I still wanted a piece of Buchanan. We chirped a little more, but then out of nowhere Newf came storming in to save the day. The thing is, Jeff Buchanan was not only a big dude but he was a lefty — and neither of us realized that. Newf went into the fight blind figuratively and came out blind literally. The two combatants wailed away on each other, with Newf taking some real haymakers, nearly swelling both of his eyes shut at once. He also ended up fracturing his own hand in the fight. In the dressing room after the game, as blood still seeped out of one of the wounds around Newf’s right eye, he looked up and asked me, “Did I go down, Ash, or did I stay up the whole fight?” I assured my buddy he stayed on his feet and as Newf undid his skates, half groggy, I saw him grin with pleasure. Ironically, I got called up a few days later, while Newf missed some time due to his broken hand.
That one story says a lot: Newf was a great teammate and sometimes people forget how good a player he was. He could score and fight with the best of ’em, and was one of the most underrated passers I’ve ever seen. Unfortunately, players who go hard tend to get hurt frequently, and after a while his body just couldn’t take the rigours of playing 100 games a year. Hell, I’m surprised mine has held up this well.
Now Newf has written his book (I always encouraged him to do it but never thought it would actually happen). I promised him if this day ever came, I’d be there for him — just like he has been there for me, so many times, over the years. I am not sure what lies ahead in this book, but I can guarantee it’ll be honest and interesting. Whenever I run into another ex-teammate of Newf’s, the first thing we do is start trading “ TR ” stories, and I haven’t heard a bad one yet. Finally, the hockey world is about to see what all the fuss is about.
Congrats, Newf, and thanks for always being a good pal.

Foreword
by
Jim Cuddy

To those of us who love the game of hockey, the lives of NHL ers are unfathomably fascinating. We want to know everything: the way they were as kids, how early they knew they had a chance to play in the NHL , when they made it up to the Show . . . everything. We soak up all the details and compare them to the normal lives we know. This is the way we treat our heroes in Canada, and believe me, anyone who has played in the NHL , even for a single game, is a hero to us.
However, the true stories are rarely told. What we end up knowing is a small portion of the whole tale — the Coles Notes version, if you will. We get the highlights but none of the substance. What is excised is the real-life part: how they handled being told they were special, how they dealt with their first abusive coach, how they took their first demotion. If life is in the details, these are the details worth knowing.
Terry Ryan was a true prospect. He was drafted eighth overall by the historic Montreal Canadiens, and for a member of the great nation of Newfoundland, there could not be a better place to play hockey (well, maybe the Bruins, but that is another story). Terry was fast and talented, could score and fight, and the way ahead appeared bright indeed. He looked like a sure thing, so what could go wrong?
Well, we all know the path ahead can be thorny, and it certainly was for young Terry. Throw in a series of injuries, some ill-timed antics, Michel Therrien, and numerous other humorous setbacks, and you are no longer on track to be the next Gretzky. What starts out as “boy realizes his dream of playing in the NHL ” soon becomes a morality play.
But the real story is one of a man with steely character, who plays hard and dangerously for his teammates. A young man who tells his story with honesty, humility, and a keen sense of humour no matter how ill-timed. We get the whole story here: no blemish removed, no Photoshopped memory, all in. It is a life laid bare, and we are left to draw our own conclusions about the career of one young Terry Ryan.
It is a rollicking story and, true to his word, Terry never holds back. He is, as are many of his Newfoundland brethren, a master story teller. The reader is swept along by the vivid detail and remarkable memories. We are grateful for the honesty.
It is not easy to lead a public life and feel you have failed in the eyes of others. However, I believe the reverse is true. Terry Ryan has lived a life of fascinating possibilities, and he comes out a man of integrity and wisdom.
We should all be so lucky.

Introduction

I have two separated shoulders, an ankle that’s been damaged beyond repair, and unstable knees. Irritating the elbows they were once attached to, numerous bone chips float inside me. The outside part of my right hand has been numb since 2001 , when a skate lacerated my forearm’s tendons. On cold days most of my joints hurt — especially my knuckles, and even more specifically the ones on my right hand. To date I’ve absorbed over 150 stitches, and my nose is crooked from being broken a half dozen times. Sometimes it hurts to breathe, and I am pretty certain it is due to the fact I once broke my ribs — collapsing a lung — and played through it. Scars line my body and pain lives under them.
I am a former professional hockey player, an eighth overall pick in the NHL Entry Draft. I am also the answer to this “Useless Sports Trivia” classic: What Montreal Canadiens first-rounder went three picks ahead of Jarome Iginla in 1995 ?
My name is Terry Ryan, Junior. And I am what would be considered in hockey circles — hell, in any sports circle — a first-round “flop.”
I currently play senior hockey for three figures a week.
Why, you ask? For the same reason I wrote this book. I love the game: the team concept,