Suffering the most gruesome injury in hockey history was just the beginning.
For Okotoks Oilers banquet guest speaker Clint Malarchuk what followed a 12-year NHL career was a tumultuous battle with mental health from obsessive compulsive disorder, post-traumatic stress disorder, depression, anxiety, alcoholism to a suicide attempt.
Yet he’s still here to talk about it.
“I always thought my purpose was to be an NHL hockey player, it was my dream, my goal, my passion,” Malarchuk told a captivated audience at the Foothills Centennial Centre on June 23. “The two most important days in your life is the day you were born and the day you figure out why you were born.
“This is why I was born. Yes, the NHL gives me an avenue. Yes, all those demons I conquered gives me something to talk about and hopefully gives people hope.”
Self-admittedly not the most talented player to wear a goalie mask, Malarchuk pushed his way through to the professional ranks on sheer hard work and an obsession with the craft.
He credited his OCD for getting him to the NHL.
“I was training like a professional athlete when I was 12, 13 years old,” he said. “I was already doing things obsessively. Later on it overtook my life, but there were some good things with obsessive-compulsive disorder.”
By the early 80s he was living the dream in the NHL.
Through the decade he established himself as a regular in the league with stops in Quebec City and Washington before arriving on the Buffalo Sabres in the 1998-89 season.
In the rustbelt city, Malarchuk sustained arguably the most famously grisly NHL injury captured on television.
While in goal, Malarchuk had his jugular vein cut by a skate blade causing blood to gush all over the ice and hysteria to break out in the arena as he fought for his life.
With the quick help of Sabres medical staff including team trainer Jim Pizzutelli, the goaltender survived the incident. Had the skate blade gone a quarter of an inch further, he would have died instantly.
Just 10 days after having his jugular cut, Malarchuk was back in goal for the Sabres.
Growing up rough and tumble, all the goaltender knew was to cowboy up, to get back up.
“I was everything that Buffalo, a blue-collar sports town epitomized – they love that grit,” he said. “I didn’t have any counselling. I was offered, I didn’t think of it. You get bucked off a horse, what do you do? You get right back on so you don’t get scared. That’s what I did.”
The Grande Prairie native privately battled severe OCD and enormous depression, panic attacks and nightmares for three years after sustaining the injury.
“No one knew the hell I was going through at that time,” he said.
The hard-nosed netminder finally sought help and steadily improved with medication for nearly a decade.
Until it didn’t.
When Montreal Canadiens forward Richard Zednik suffered a similar neck cut injury in 2008, Malarchuk spiralled out of control with a nervous breakdown after watching the incident. He became a recluse and self-medicated with alcohol the drug of choice.
It culminated in a suicide attempt at his ranch in Nevada. Somehow, he survived a gun shot to his skull — where the bullet is permanently lodged — and was sent to a rehab centre in San Francisco.
“I carried a lot of guilt after I shot myself. Was I a coward? My kids, what was I leaving,” he said. “I didn’t really know what I was doing at the time.
“Mental illness had me and I saw no way out. I very impulsively picked up a gun, put it under my chin and shot.”
At the rehabilitation centre for six months, Malarchuk was insulted when given the diagnosis of PTSD from his jugular vein incident.
“That macho guy from Buffalo? Call anyone in Buffalo, they will tell you,” he said. “I was insulted because of the stigma.
“Society tells us be tough, never cry, don’t show emotion. You’re good.”
Eventually the treatment got through to the now 55-year-old who got in touch with his emotions as he finally accepted the PTSD, the mental illness, the alcoholism.
He’s learned he has to check in with doctors, to check in with his network of support, to take his medication, to meditate, to be of service and talk about his trials and tribulations.
As Malarchuk put it, he’s landed on his feet.
“My story is a little extreme,” he said. “I like to think when we really look into our hearts we’ve all struggled, we can all relate. Kids, family, job, economy, it’s tough.”
Proceeds from the fundraising banquet went towards sending Oilers players to workshop programs for amateur sport athletes put on by the Canadian Mental Health Association.
For Oilers president Brad Robson mental health education in hockey is personal.
“Clint has been called the cowboy goalie,” Robson said. “He’s much more than that today. To our family he’s a hero to all of us.
“Clint’s Stanley Cup of life really is to tell his story so all those suffering can find the strength to follow Clint.”
The former Dallas Stars scout knew a number of NHLers who lost the battle on a personal level including Rick Rypien, Wade Belak, Steve Montador and Derek Boogaard.
“The time for mental health awareness for our young hockey players and other sports athletes is today,” Robson said. “This initiative should have been in place years and years ago. Is it too late? No.
“All we have to do is listen tonight to Clint. That with love from your family and resources now available to athletes we can now win this battle together.”
