Hockey Confidential (33 page)

“They know each other, they had an association a long time ago because of their hockey school businesses, but they've never had a relationship the way some people perceived it to be,” Keefe said. “Jon knew very little about what our relationship was like with Frost, and [as for] what Jon did know, he served as an adult voice of reason to let Frost know that the isolation that existed around us was not normal. It's so unfair to make Jon any part of this. I think anyone who knows Jon knows that he's his own man. He's also a very good goalie coach.”

Indeed, Elkin has an impressive hockey resumé. He's worked for the Calgary Flames and numerous OHL franchises, as well as with countless individual goalies. When the Greyhounds called to do a background check on Elkin, they found a goalie coach/consultant with solid references from previous employers. And maybe most important of all, when the Hounds decided to hire him, Elkin was already the personal goaltending coach of Greyhound goalie Matt Murray.

“I know Jon to be the best goalie coach in North America, he had a previous relationship with Matt Murray, and we felt he could really help Matt,” Keefe said. “We interviewed a number of people, and when it came time to make the decision on the best candidate, I separated myself from all of that and let Kyle handle it. There's been no issue—not with any of the teams Jon has worked with in the past, and not with the Greyhounds, either. None. Jon has been a tremendous addition to our staff.”

The other connection to Frost, though, was a much thornier one for Keefe. It's his younger brother Adam. Even though Adam never had the same type of all-consuming relationship with Frost as Sheldon, Adam Keefe remained friends with Frost—and for that matter, with Danton, too. It was a source of some friction between the brothers.

“I have only selfish concerns,” Sheldon Keefe said, “[about] how it affects me. Adam knows I'm not thrilled about it. I have no relationship with David Frost. None. My brother does. It doesn't impact Adam negatively. You have to understand, Adam's relationship with Frost was never anything like mine. Adam's was very casual. He got to know Frost and his family, and on occasion, from time to time, maybe once a year Adam will see them. I don't feel great about that relationship, and when I bring it up to Adam, he comes back with he wasn't around for all of my stuff and his own experiences have been positive.

“My brother is a quality guy, and I have to respect that with him. My parents know all about it. When Adam comes home from playing overseas in the summer, he lives with my parents. He's very much his own man, he makes all the decisions in his life. Adam still also speaks with Mike Danton. Adam did support Mike in prison when I didn't. Adam is a very caring guy; he's sensitive to what Mike has been through. That's Adam's life, not mine. We don't talk about that [anymore]. It's nothing to do with me. It's out of my control.”

If someone wants to draw the inference that, because Adam Keefe occasionally consorts with Frost or Danton, Sheldon Keefe must be doing the same, Sheldon said there's nothing he can do about that.

“I can only control what I can control,” Keefe said. “So that's what I'm doing [in Sault Ste. Marie], one person at a time.”

If there's one thing that stands out above all others when
Sheldon Keefe tells you his story, it is how he's willing to take ownership of much of what he has done or said in his life. He's not blaming anyone but himself—not even Frost, really—for how things went. But if only briefly, Keefe did allow himself the forgiveness some others may not be prepared to offer.

“As a young guy, in many senses, I may have been somewhat more a victim than an accomplice,” Keefe said, “and I'm not sure anyone looked at it in that manner.”

That's as close as Keefe came to feeling sorry for himself or deflecting. He had no problem with those who have a problem with him, but if you listen carefully, there's also a message in there.

“If there is anyone who feels negatively toward me because of the player I was, because of what I did back then, if I see them now and they still feel that way towards me, I understand that,” he said. “I deserve that. If someone wants to live in the past, I fully understand why they would feel about me the way they do. But if they have contact with me now, if they have gotten to know me in Junior A or the OHL or even my last couple of years I played pro hockey, I think they would come away with a more positive experience, certainly not what my reputation was.”

Keefe certainly won over Mike Futa.

“I really believe he's found his way,” Futa said. “If I were asked, ‘Give me the name of someone we should be looking at for an AHL coaching job,' there's nothing in my mind anymore that would prevent me from saying, ‘You need to consider hiring this guy.' I believe this is a good story.”

Even though Keefe coached in the OHL, and stood on a bench across the way from Guelph Storm assistant coach Bill Stewart, as of 2014 the two had not spoken since Keefe played for Stewart.

“It's a strange dynamic,” Keefe said of the non-relationship with Stewart. “Bill has many reasons to be bitter at me, but I can say I'm happy to see him back in the league. He's an outstanding coach.”

In March 2014, just days after this interview with Keefe was conducted, Keefe finally met with OHL commissioner Branch in Thorold, Ontario, the first time they had been face to face since the 2000 Memorial Cup handshake snub.

Keefe extended his hand, shook hands with the commissioner and said to him, “I've been waiting a long time to shake that hand.”

They then shared some conversation.

“My view is that Sheldon was a young person, and young people sometimes make interesting choices or decisions,” Branch said. “But that's part of being young. We get older and we see things differently. Sheldon and I had a very good talk, a good discussion, and I am happy we had it.”

Symbolically, it was a big moment for Keefe.

“It was important for me to get some closure,” Keefe said. “The situation with Branch was one that really ate at me for a long time. It's not how I wanted to represent myself. It's a constant reminder of how messed up a time it was for me.”

The good citizens of Pembroke didn't just forgive and forget Keefe for those Frosty times in the fall of 2006, they honoured him like a conquering hero of the Ottawa Valley. On October 4, 2013, Keefe and his whole family, as well as a surprise appearance by the entire Greyhound team, were in attendance for a pre-game ceremony when the Lumber Kings, CCHL and city of Pembroke paid tribute to him in a banner-raising ceremony, listing his accomplishments there. He also received the key to the city from the mayor.

Keefe went from being shunned in Pembroke to getting legend status in the arena rafters.

Not everyone is sold on Keefe, though.

Simmons, the newspaper columnist and author of the Danton-Frost-Jefferson book, can't get there and maybe never will.

“I wish I could believe that Sheldon Keefe has completely turned his life around, and from everyone I talk to in the junior hockey world, he's a terrific coach, maybe an NHL coach one day,” Simmons said. “But there's a part of me deep down that wonders about him. Maybe I know too much about his past . . .

“Yes, all of that was years ago. And sometimes we change and grow up and leave our pasts behind. But if I was a parent of a player going to Sault Ste. Marie to play, I would have a boatload of questions for Sheldon before allowing my son to do so. I would want him to answer for some of the things he's never answered for. And despite all the good things I've heard about him from parents whose kids have played for him, I would want my own answers, I would want to look him in the eye and trust my instincts. Because I would never want to expose a child to the hockey life he grew up in. I've seen the damage that can be done to a family, and I wouldn't wish for anyone to ever experience that again.”

Keefe said he understands why some may feel that way about him.

“I wouldn't consider taking on such a role in hockey if I wasn't willing to spend time to put people at ease if that's what they need,” Keefe said. “I estimate I've coached over 200 players, and I would provide the names and phone numbers of every one of their parents to even my harshest critics.”

Keefe said one of the things he treasures most is a scrapbook full of letters from Pembroke players and parents he received at the City of Pembroke celebration.

“It's a reminder of how much things have changed,” he said. “It makes me feel good about the mark I've left on people's lives, one at a time. Ultimately, I can say whatever I want, but it's all irrelevant. The people I encounter, the experiences they have with me, determine whether I'm worthy. That's all I can control now.”

Keefe's thankful to be in a position to get the opportunity. He's even a little thankful, in a manner of speaking, to Frost.

“He's legitimately left me alone for these many years and stayed out of my life,” Keefe said. “I'm grateful he's allowed me to live my life with no intrusions.”

But what if? What if, one day, David Frost shows up at an OHL game being coached by Sheldon Keefe?

“I think about that sometimes—not a lot, but once in a while,” Keefe said. “In one sense, it wouldn't change anything. I don't have a relationship with him. That part is never going to change. But I would hope we let sleeping dogs lie. He's living his life, I'm living mine.”

If it should happen that all is not as it seems in Keefe's new and improved world, it's obvious who stands to lose the most.

“A lot of things in my life would fall apart if Frost were back in the picture, and my marriage is one of them,” Keefe said. “My wife doesn't understand the whole hockey culture, but I've explained enough of what went on for her to know it wasn't a good time in my life. Everything in my life that means something to me—my marriage, my kids, my parents, my career—would go totally south if things went back to the way they were. That can never happen. . . . I've got two sons, and if they ever want to know about my life growing up, there's plenty of documentation out there for them on that. But I'm hoping they will see me as I am, as someone who moved on to better things, and be proud of their dad.

“I know some people believe [Frost] is still there, pulling strings, calling shots, but he's not. To my knowledge, in my eight seasons as a head coach, he's never seen me coach a game. To anybody who knows Dave, to think I would be giving an interview like this, talking about him like this, that could never happen.”

The Professor likes to think he's finally figured things out. He's going about his business, living his life, doing the right things, he said, but also now doing them, maybe for the first time, for all the right reasons. Keefe's considered a rising star in the coaching ranks, someone who could end up behind the bench of Canada's national junior team one day, or maybe even an NHL club. He's well aware that any new appointment he gets will require him to answer for his previous life all over again. He said he's never been better equipped to do so.

“When I played, I only wanted to prove people wrong,” Keefe said. “I was small, I was the outcast. I was a bad teammate and won an OHL scoring title and championship. My motivation was always about proving people wrong. And even when I first started coaching, I was still doing that. I was the outcast who was proving I could succeed on my own, still trying to prove people wrong. But these last few years, I no longer care about proving people wrong. I'm more into proving people right. I have a lot of people in my corner now, a lot of people I have a positive relationship with, people who have gone out on a limb for me, helped me to get where I am. I am working now to reward their faith in me.

“I know there were a lot of days I used to wake up and I would constantly think about the way things were in my life. I would wonder, ‘What is David Frost thinking [about me]? What is he saying [about me]? What is the media perception [about me]?' Now, I have next to no days when any of that enters my mind. I wake up in the morning, I kiss my wife, I hug my kids, I take my son to preschool, I go coach hockey for a living and I just be me.”

Regrets?

Well, in October 2013, Keefe retweeted a message from a moti­vational/inspirational Twitter account. It read as follows: “No regrets. Just lessons learned. Accept your past with no regrets, handle your present with confidence, and face your future with no fear.”

Words to live by for Sheldon Keefe.

Steven Stamkos quite likely saved Jari Byrski's life.

Or, at the very least, the goal Stamkos scored for Team Canada at the 2008 World Junior Championship created a life-saving spark, a little ray of light into what was an otherwise dark, bleak and dangerous state of depression that had engulfed the normally ebullient skating and skills coach to the NHL stars.

It was January 2, 2008, another seemingly hopeless day in Byrski's luxurious 33rd-floor condo unit—the same place where, on June 15, 2007, the love of Byrski's life, his soul mate, business partner and wife-to-be, Ania, died after a long and difficult battle with cancer.

Jari's grief and guilt over Ania's death became too much for him to handle. So, a few months after her passing, in the fall and winter of 2007, he shut down in every way imaginable—physically, mentally and emotionally. He virtually locked himself away in his condo on Lake Shore Boulevard West. He rarely showered or shaved. He barely ate. He communicated with no one, not even with his dearest friends or famous NHL clients like Jason Spezza or Brent Burns or their families, whom he'd known since they'd come to him as young kids, age 11 for Spezza, age eight for Burns.

Jari Byrski just went off the grid and into a deep pit of despair.

“I went down, down, down,” Byrski said. “It was horrible. My guilt was overwhelming. I wasn't able to do anything, see anyone. There was too much pain to go back to the rink and talk about it, to talk about Ania. I just couldn't cope with the pain.”

There were many days in that fall and winter of 2007, during what amounted to a four-month moratorium on living, when Byrski thought he would be better off dead. He would go to the apartment's solarium, open the door to the balcony and look down the 33 floors to the ground below and wonder if that was all that was left for him.

“I can't tell you how many times I said, ‘This is it, I'm going to jump.' I already felt as though I had died. I already felt as though I had already landed on the ground. I was already dead inside. Ania meant so much to me. I was not comfortable with the guilt I had. All my love could not help her with the cancer. The doctors gave her three months to live; it turned out to be 13 months. But to see her suffer like she did, the last two or three months, it was awful. She wanted to die at home, but I did that all wrong. It was terrible. I had guilt about that. I worked too much when she was alive and healthy. I felt guilt for that. So much guilt, about everything.”

Byrski isn't sure why he didn't jump off his balcony to end it all, doesn't know exactly what held him back. He's not even sure why he happened to have the TV on that day after New Year's Day in 2008. But there he was, sitting in an almost catatonic daze on his leather couch, seemingly incapable of caring about anything. But then he heard a familiar voice coming from the television, an old friend, talking about Team Canada at the World Junior Championship and, in particular, a goal by Stamkos, who had first come to Byrski for skating and skill instruction when he was just 10 years old.

Something twigged inside him.

“I knew the person who was analyzing the game [on TV], I knew the boy who scored the goal . . . I don't know why, because I had no interest in anything, but I took some interest in this, so I kept watching, getting more interested,” said Byrski.

The Stamkos goal—scored at 2:20 of the third period, the third of Canada's four goals in a 4–3 quarter-final victory over Finland at the 2008 WJC—rekindled a fire within Byrski. Slowly but surely, he started to care again. He was actually inspired. He could feel energy returning to his body and soul. It was during the next few days of that tournament that he went back to one of his great passions in life: painting, expressing himself through art.

Byrski painted a picture of Stamkos, his arms aloft after scoring “The Goal,” set against a backdrop of a big Canadian flag, with a smaller inset depiction of Stamkos shooting the puck, a gold medal and the flags of the participating countries on little pucks.

On the reverse side of the painting, Byrski penned a deeply personal poem, not only as a tribute to Stamkos, who was months away from becoming the No. 1 pick in the 2008 NHL Entry Draft and bona fide pro hockey superstar, but as an expression of gratitude for the young man unknowingly saving a life, his life:

You stood at the top of the mountain,

Wrapped in a golden and joyful fountain.

Admired by the world around,

Bringing and sharing the moment with us so profound.

With a smile on youthful face,

Touching us all in your embrace.

Reaching with grace to your dream,

Being part of something greater than teams.

When your life with that spark,

Can bring the light to what was dark,

Can bring the feeling of being part

Of your talents, gift and open heart.

Giving your warmth to the world that became too cold.

Thank you . . . Jari.

Not long after he completed the painting and inscription, Byrski, back from the brink, met with Stamkos and gave him the painting.

“I gave it to him, I think it was in February or March,” Byrski said, “and it was at that moment I decided I'm going back to my life. That was the turning point. There was no looking back. . . . I decided then that's who I am, that's who I have to be.”

Stamkos was well aware his friend Jari had experienced difficulty dealing with the death of Ania, but never could have imagined the depth of it, how desperate and depressed Jari had become. Stamkos, at age 17, couldn't possibly have known how important the painting and poem were in restoring a shattered life.

“When I hear that [story] now,” Stamkos said, “I get chills thinking about it.”

Jari Byrski, at one time or another, has taught skating, stick
handling, shooting and skill development to upwards of 100 NHL players, maybe 200 by the time you factor in his work with NHL teams such as the Ottawa Senators and Tampa Bay Lightning, player agencies (the Orr Hockey Group) or the NHL Players' Association's All-Canadians Mentorship Program for Canada's elite-level 14-year-olds.

If asked which players he's worked with, Jari will casually scroll through his phone contacts . . . Bryan Bickell, Brent Burns, Mike Cammalleri, David Clarkson, Andrew Cogliano, B.J. Crombeen, Michael Del Zotto, Steve Downie, Trevor Daley, Cody Hodgson, Aaron Johnston, Manny Malhotra, Mike Kostka, Brian McGrattan, John Mitchell, Rick Nash, Jamie Oleksiak, Alex Pietrangelo, Jason Spezza, Jeff Skinner, Steven Stamkos, Raffi Torres, Antoine Vermette, Stephen Weiss, Daniel Winnik, Wojtek Wolski . . .

“It's hard to keep track,” Byrski said, “because some come and some go and some come back again. Some come a lot, some come a little. . . . I'm honoured to be involved with all of them. It's a privilege.”

There are a handful, though, who have special “favoured son” status—including, but not limited to, Spezza, Burns, Stamkos and Wolski.

Much of what Byrski has accomplished in terms of an NHL-level profile traces back to that long-ago Saturday night at Chesswood Arena in Toronto when an 11-year-old Jason Spezza first attended Byrski's SK8ON school.

Rino Spezza, Jason's dad, was coaching the Toronto Marlies team made up of players born in 1983 and had heard about this “European Jari guy” teaching kids skills and skating in an innovative and unusual way.

“I certainly wasn't equipped to teach the kids specific skill development,” Rino Spezza said. “So I took the whole team to Jari. Half the kids liked him, the other half didn't. That's how it is with Jari. Either you get him or you don't. Jason was in the group that did. Jason just took to him right away. The drills were tough, they were really challenging, but Jason liked that.”

“There were all these kids, and only one of them, Jason, was asking me questions I've never been asked before,” Byrski said. “He's 11 years old, he's asking me questions that are challenging for me to answer. I'm like, ‘Whoa, who's this kid?' And you could see he was very special, his skills and ability. I always remember Rino coming up to me after the first time, and he said to me, ‘My boy liked this, we'd like to come back, see you next week.'”

It was the start of a special relationship. Jason Spezza has continued to use Jari for skill development ever since, and that opened doors for Jari at every level.

“Jari really took me under his wing,” the Dallas Stars centre said. “I just enjoy him as a person, and he has such a positive outlook and tremendous energy. I owe him a lot.”

It was Byrski's relationship with Spezza that led to Jari working with Spezza's representatives, the Orr Hockey Group, at its annual summer development camps. It was the Spezza connection that led to Byrski working the Senators' summer prospect development camp since 2006. That resume paved the way for the NHLPA All-Canadians program. And so much more.

“My first meeting with Jari was when I was overseeing the summer development of a young Jason Spezza,” said Senators director of player development Randy Lee, who started as the team's strength and conditioning coach. “Jari's energy on the ice and passion for encouraging young players to develop their high-end skill left a huge impression on me. The level of energy he brings to every on-ice session is contagious. The players who worked with him over the years believe in him as a coach, but more importantly as a person. He's been a big part of our development camps and really created a strong bond with the players.”

It's a popular refrain. When Tampa Bay Lightning head coach Jon Cooper was coaching the Bolts' farm team in Syracuse of the American Hockey League, he was looking for someone to teach specialized skills. His assistant, former NHL player Steve “Stumpy” Thomas, told Cooper about Jari, with whom Thomas's son Christian had worked during his minor hockey days in Toronto. Byrski started by working for Cooper in the AHL and then moved up to conduct the skill side of the Lightning's summer prospect camp once Cooper was promoted to the NHL.

“Jari's energy level is off the charts,” Cooper said. “Guys just gravitate toward him. The problem is he's busy; he's a hard guy to nail down. Everyone wants a piece of him. Even now, we'll use Jari's drills at times when he's not here. But we do not have his lingo down, which is hilarious. He's unique, just a special person.”

Cooper and Stamkos will often marvel in practice at a player performing a beautiful toe-drag deke and roofing the puck for a goal. The two will look at each other knowingly, nod and simply say to each other, “Jari.”

Stamkos wouldn't think of ending any off-season without at least a few weeks of daily skill instruction from Jari.

“Once the [regular] season begins, there's basically no time for skill work,” Stamkos said. “None. It's all travel, play games, practice when you can, but the practices are not anything to do with skill development. It's great to get time with Jari, work on your hands and your feet.”

The only difference from the time when a 10-year-old Stamkos showed up to SK8ON is that it's now Steven, not his dad, Chris, who tells Jari what areas need to be worked on.

“Chris Stamkos came to me the first time we met,” Byrski recollected, “and said, ‘I know more about hockey than you, but you're going to teach my son because he won't listen to me.'” He laughed. “Chris would tell me to work on turns, that Steven was slow on the takeoff out of the turn, and I'd say, ‘Okay, Steven, your dad wants us to do turns,' and Steven would say, ‘That's so boring,' and I would say, ‘We'll do turns for a while and then do something else fun.'”

Now, in August, Stamkos will show up to Jari with a very specific list of things he wants to improve on.

“Typically, it's a 50-minute session,” Jari says. “Two stickhandling drills with momentum of movement. One drill for acceleration, hard feet and monster hard work and conditioning. One drill with just pure hands in a small space. One drill for dynamic shooting, one drill for stationary shooting.”

Jari will employ pylons and pucks and sticks and shooting boards and PVC pipe to go over the stick shaft on stickhandling drills. Whether it's Stamkos or Spezza or Skinner or Cammalleri, “the player will tell me he wants more of this or less of that. The players, they keep getting better; they want more speed in their drills, more complicated drills. We keep coming up with new gadgets and equipment, always pushing, always more, more of everything.”

The bond Byrski has formed with some of his players is beyond tight. The Spezzas and Stamkoses consider him a member of the family. With many of his clients, summer isn't officially over until Jari comes to their homes for dinner or a BBQ just before they leave for NHL camp.

“That's our tradition,” Chris Stamkos said. “We share laughs and stories. Jari is a special guy—a little eccentric, but special.”

“That's our ‘airing of the grievances,'” Steven Stamkos said, laughing. “Jari is so much fun.”

For many years, Rino Spezza actually used to get out on the ice and be one of Jari's helpers. And Byrski's eyes positively light up at the mere mention of Brent Burns's name. The hairy San Jose Sharks behemoth came to Byrski as an eight-year-old, and Jari instantly took to the lovable goofball in what's become an enduring relationship.

“He was so young, only eight,” Jari said. “Like a flamingo bird—passion in his eyes, so much desire, a smile on his face. I fell in love with this kid and his family. Now, he has all these animals he keeps in his house, all these tattoos . . . we're both a little crazy, maybe that's why we like each other. I worked in Minnesota with him and Derek Boogaard. I've had so many good times with Brent: his crazy military and Navy Seal training, his groomsmen, racing his bike Tour de France style, all those animals and snakes in his house. What's he got, like, 600 snakes? I don't like snakes. He tells me when I stay at his house not to worry, I'm in a safe room. Hah! There is no safe room in a house with 600 snakes.”