The song quoted in this column is called "Big League," from Tom Cochrane & Red Rider. At least part of the inspiration for this song is a former NHL prospect named George Pelawa, a 6'4" 240-pound giant who was Mr. Hockey for the state of Minnesota in 1986. He had a full scholarship to North Dakota and was the 16th overall pick in the NHL draft. There was no doubt that Pelawa would be playing in the NHL for the Calgary Flames before the decade was out.
(George Pelawa could have been a star)Unfortunately, he never had a chance. Pelawa was killed by in a car crash before he ever started at North Dakota, in an accident involving two drunken drivers(Pelawa was a passenger in one of the vehicles) His hockey career was over before it could be truly realized.
It's the exact same for this player, Derek Boogaard.
“Real fast and tough is the only clear lane to the Big League”
Derek Boogaard was not fast in any sense of the word. He looked like a man who had been picked out of the stands moments before the game started, completely unaware that he actually had to skate in order to move around on the ice.
But anyone who played against or with him knew he was tough. Heck, Boogaard was the toughest guy in a league full of guys who will play through torn ACL’s and broken bones.
In fact, Boogaard was so tough that there was a good chance that he could have killed a man on the ice. Being 6’7”, weighing somewhere in the vicinity of 260 pounds and having fists that broke helmets tends to turn someone into Martin Riggs.
Which is why, despite scoring a grand total of three goals in his NHL career, Boogaard managed to play 227 games. There’s a good chance that the big man would have played near 500 games had he made it through the next few years injury-free.
But he didn’t. Derek Boogaard died at age 28.
“My boy’s gonna play in the Big League. My boy’s gonna turn some heads. My boy’s gonna play in the Big League. My boy’s gonna knock ‘em dead.”
Boogaard turned some heads when he went to the WHL, the roughest junior league in Canada. Being his size probably did some of that, especially since players that large are usually moved to defense before they ever get a chance.
Not Boogaard. He stayed at wing, where he could dole out punishment to any unfortunate soul playing against him that night. Plus, if Boogaard fought, the team would only lose a fourth-line forward for five minutes, not the more-necessary sixth defenseman.
And Boogaard would fight. A lot.
Witness this KO of Todd Fedoruk, a 6’2” 232-pound behemoth who decided it was time to challenge the big man. Things were going well, until Boogaard actually landed a few punches and Fedoruk crumples, due to his now broken cheekbone.
Or this KO of Trevor Gillies, a man who’s now notorious for smashing the 6’4” Eric Tangradi into the boards, then taunting him from the runway as a trainer made sure that Tangradi still knew he was in the United States. He took Boogaard for about thirty seconds, before he was hit with an uppercut.
It was so vicious that Boogaard had already released his grip and was skating to the penalty box before Gillies hit the ice.
And there’s this fight against Jody Shelley, where Boogaard hits Shelley’s helmet with his bare fist and breaks the thing.
Try doing that without breaking your hand.
It’s probably the reason Boogaard was nicknamed “the Boogeyman.” There’s no doubt that with just one punch, he could knock you into a coma.
Ironically, that might be why he opened up that camp for kids.
“Not many ways out of this cold northern town. You work in the mill and get laid in the ground. If your gonna jump, it will be with the game.”
People said that the camp was the two brothers(Deryk ran it with his brother Aaron, also an enforcer) teaching children to beat each other up. After all, what else were they supposed to say? That it made sense for two guys who were paid to fight teaching a group of kids from 12-18 how to fight?
(Here's a guarantee that this is the only camp where you learn these skills)On paper, it looks ludicrous.
In reality? It might be a little different.
Fighting is a major part of hockey. It’s somehow become ingrained in the culture over time, to the point that movies have been made about it.
It’s also a major role in the game, and needs to be filled by someone so that everyone else can do their jobs. An enforcer in hockey is like a shot-blocker in basketball, a slot receiver in football or a long reliever in baseball.
Don’t have one? Good luck winning anything.
And then there’s that term, enforcer.
These aren’t mindless robots sent on seek and destroy missions. They’re more like police officers, forcing everyone to play nice or face the wrath of God that will bear down upon them.
So, in some sense, the Boogaards might have been teaching these kids how to get a job as a team's policeman. After all, if you can outfight the guy on the other team, someone will take a chance on you, regardless of your actual ability. Look no further then Boogaard, who was a 7th round pick despite the fact that he’s never had a point total in double figures. Ever.
(He was more effective without that stick than with it.)There’s another aspect to this, though. The kids at this camp would, in almost every case, continue their career in the rough and tumble WHL.
It’s a necessity that one knows how to fight if you’re heading to location like Swift Current or Kootenay or Moose Jaw. Otherwise, an overager(one who is at or above 20 years of age in the Canadian Hockey League) will attempt to intimidate you through pugilism.
Knowing how to throw could be the difference between playing the next day and spending the next four weeks sounding like Kanye West in “Through the Wire.”
In a way, teaching these kids to fight is just like all of Boogaard’s charitable contributions.
“So do right to others like you do to yourself. In the Big League”
After Boogaard’s death, stories began to pour out about “the Boogeyman” off the ice. How he’d take time to make sure everyone left the rink with a smile, no matter how long he had to stay. How he went out of his way to make sure that everyone had a good time.
(Sure, he's still intimidating as all hell, but he tried to be friendly.)There was also his dedication toward the troops. “Boogaard’s Booguardians” (For some odd reason, every marketing department feels that it needs to match words with the name) was an organization that allowed military members and their families to attend Rangers’ games. Boogaard also was a major player for the Defending the Blue Line Foundation, a non-profit that helps the children of military families experience hockey.
It was how the warrior on the ice gave to the ones off of it. And make no mistake, Boogaard was a warrior on the ice, first for Minnesota, than for New York.
How else to explain why all his teammates loved him?
Sure, some of it comes with playing with these athletes for months at a time. Camaraderie in a dressing room cannot be manufactured and for most of the players he played with, he became like a family member.(So much so, that the Rangers will either have a great season next year or be horrendous. There’s no chance that they stay in mediocrity.) There’s a reason he had an impact on guys like Prust and Boyle, players who finally took the next step for a franchise that will need them to be major parts of the organization's success in the coming years.
(Prust still is in shock over his roommate's death. This is them in happier times.)But a larger part of it how hard his job actually is. Imagine being told that, every two weeks, you had to pummel a large random man across the ice. If you lost even a little bit of ground, you’d either be traded, sent to the minors, or released. That's if you didn't get injured, which could range in severity from a gash on the head to a broken orbital bone.
To say it’s stressful is an understatement. But more than that, it’s out of character for the players who have to do it. After all, these are regular people who have been thrust into this situation as a way to play the game they love for a living.
(Just ask Matt Hendricks. Or that right eye of his.)That’s probably why most of the players talked about how Boogaard was a gentle giant off the ice, completely different from the violent person who roamed between the boards.
Unfortunately, we’ll never get to see either side of him again. Because the Boogeyman was discovered by his family in his Minnesota apartment on Friday.
Derek Boogaard, the toughest guy to ever grace the NHL, is dead at 28.
“Never can tell what might come down. Never can tell when you might check out. Just don’t know, no you never can tell.”
–Pete Gegick
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