National Post (National Edition)
HUMBOLDT’S comeback
A GRIEVING TOWN, A BROKEN HOCKEY COMMUNITY AND A NEW COACH TRYING TO PULL THE TEAM BACK TOGETHER
‘It’s a sad story, but I think there’s a story to be told.’ — ForMer huMboldt Mayor MalcolM eaton
Nathan Oystrick says he’s not a religious man, but the former NHL player has the entire Lord’s Prayer tattooed on his back, in Ukrainian.
During his playing days, he’d recite that prayer in the nervous interlude before puck-drop. Perhaps Oystrick’s old ritual will come in handy in Humboldt. Perhaps it won’t. There’s no blueprint for what he’s trying to accomplish in this small, hurting city. But he’s putting his back into it, pushing towards recovery, one hollered command and one quiet conversation at a time.
Oystrick is a stranger in Humboldt. He’s also the new head coach and general manager of the hometown Broncos, a storied Saskatchewan Junior Hockey League franchise with deep ties to the community. They don’t know him, and he doesn’t know them. When they announced his name on July 3, locals dashed to Google.
Some people had their favourite candidate, this guy or that guy, and Oystrick was on none of those lists. One of his tasks is to bust barriers and build relationships, five months after an April 6 crash claimed 16 lives on the Broncos bus.
It just might be the single toughest job in hockey.
“I’m excited to be here,” Oystrick says. “But there’s been some stressful times.”
He walks into a Humboldt story that’s gone global, a tale the town is working to protect and honour, even as they grieve.
This story has boys on a bus, coaches, a radio guy, an athletic therapist, a stats man, a driver. They trade barbs, don dress shirts, listen to music, send Snapchats as a truck hauling peat moss moves closer, closer, closer.
The story is about a crash between that bus and that truck, and everything that happened after. It’s about 16 people dead and 13 injured, some more seriously than others, and how the world, the country and the town reacted.
It’s about the people on that bus, lives they lived, families they either left behind or re-joined.
“It’s absolutely critical,” says devoted Broncos fan and former Humboldt mayor Malcolm Eaton, “that however we move forward in the days and the weeks and the months and the years ahead, that we have to always be thinking about how we are honouring the legacy of the Humboldt Broncos in terms of these boys. I don’t know what that looks like. I don’t know how we’re going to do that. But I know a lot of people feel like that, and want to move this forward — want to make sure we tell the story. There’s a story here. It’s a sad story, but I think there’s a story to be told. We need to tell the story accurately.”
It’s a tale that shifts, depending on where you sit in relation to the storybook.
Surviving players have their story, shared by nobody else in the world, and you can see the unspoken interplay of that story when they’re together. Families have their story, too, and they’ve realized it’s a forever thing.
“Chris Joseph (the father of deceased Bronco Jaxon Joseph) says, ‘We’ve got to get along, because we’re going to be locked at the hips for the next 50 years.’ That’s Chris’s quote, and I use it all the time,” says Toby Boulet, whose son, Logan, died in the aftermath of the crash and — because he had the foresight to sign his organdonor card prior to the accident — gifted a heart that beats today in the body of another person.
Oystrick is in this story too, of course — jumping into its core after starting at the furthest periphery.
He heard about the crash from Colorado, where he was living and coaching high school hockey. A few months later, he applied for the vacant coach and GM position at the urging of friends who know him. Oystrick spent his entire adult life playing hockey around the globe, including 65 games in the NHL, before launching a coaching career in Denver.
He didn’t think he’d get the job, but the Broncos liked him. They liked the way he carried himself, they liked his Saskatchewan roots (Oystrick grew up in Regina), they liked the fact he chose to play junior-A hockey, and then college, instead of taking the Western Hockey League route. They liked that he’s worn letters on many of his jerseys, and that he’s won a couple of championships. They liked his enthusiasm for coaching.
“Right when this came up and Humboldt decided to play again, we were working together,” says Oystrick’s friend and former teammate Mark Popovic. “He was helping me train some players, and I said, ‘You’d be perfect for that job.’
“I just know who he is as a person, and from a hockey standpoint … he is a great coach. Ten years from now, we’re going to look back and see what his career is. It’s going to be special. Obviously, this is a unique job that requires a lot of compassion and strength.”
Nobody knows how he’ll fare in this toughest of tasks, but the Broncos saw what Popovic sees, for better or for worse. They hired him on the spot, at a meeting in Saskatoon, which is why Oystrick, wife Lindsay and dog Wiley uprooted their lives and moved to Humboldt.
They rented out their Colorado townhouse, stowed most of their personal belongings in a crawl space, packed their small SUV. The morning they were supposed to leave, Lindsay discovered a puddle of water under the sink, and a plumber diagnosed a problem with the garbage disposal.
That glamorous hockey life.
They didn’t leave Denver until 5 p.m. “I don’t know if you’ve ever been to Denver,” says Oystrick, “but trying to get through the city at 5 o’clock on a Saturday is probably the stupidest move you can do.”
On top of that, Wiley has a physical ailment that makes him urinate, a lot, and that’s how their trip went — to Cheyenne, Wyoming, to Miles City, Montana, to Regina, then to Humboldt, where they moved into a furnished apartment, made runs for groceries and cleaning supplies, and settled into this new place in this new country.
Lindsay is an American. She’s never lived in Canada, and immigration laws won’t let her work here, yet. The hockey life is a suitcase life, a driving life, and both parties to the marriage have an intimate knowledge of those upheavals. Oystrick has chased pucks from Portland to Prague, after all.
Out in Ukraine, he once recited the Lord’s Prayer before a game and scored a goal, which led to a steady ritual, and a tattoo. It’s a travelling man’s hockey story, one of thousands.
“During my playing career, I was the type of guy who usually signed a oneyear contract,” Oystrick says. “We’re used to driving. The year I played in Portland, Maine, (Lindsay) drove for 23 hours straight — I flew to Phoenix for NHL camp, and once I got released, she got in the SUV and did the drive. She’s a little crazier than me. She stopped at a rest stop for three hours, had a nap, and got the heck on the road. We’re pretty good at packing and driving.
“We’re used to driving. We’re used to picking up and moving. It’s nice to have a multi-year contract right now, to hopefully be in one spot for a few years and get to know the community, and try to help this organization.”
While Oystrick works at the local arena, in the office that previously belonged to deceased head coach and GM Darcy Haugan, Lindsay walks the dog, cleans the apartment, does the things that need taking care of.
Every morning, she writes a note for her husband, prioritizes his day. Call this person first, or that person. Go here, then here. Oystrick says he was stressing for a while, forgetting things, and that list kept him grounded.
“We’re kind of homebodies,” he says. “We don’t really go out to eat a lot or go on big shopping sprees. We make dinner at home. We’re quiet people, I guess. We fit in everywhere we go, because we’re quiet. This time it was a little different, with everyone knowing we were coming in, but nothing’s really changed with us.
“We went for supper with the neighbour once, and we’ve been invited to about seven different suppers. It’s finding the time to go and do that with everyone. It being Saskatchewan, and where I grew up, has made it easier for both of us. This is Lindsay’s first time living in Canada, so for her it’s a little different. It’s not much different, but money’s different.
‘I’m committed, Iwanttobehere, Iwanttolearn.’
“The way the banks work is different. The way the vets work is different.
“There’s some similarities, and some things she isn’t used to. But her biggest thing is as long as we’re together, and we have our animal, then she’s happy.”
So Oystrick drove into a town where he knew nobody, eyed a roster filled with names he’d never seen, and pondered a team sapped by a crash that ensured — from a raw, cold hockey perspective — that just a couple of players would be physically ready to play for the team in 2018-19.
During his first day on the job, Oystrick — who describes himself as an emotional, from-the-heart guy — broke down during an interview when he talked about walking into this place as a freshly-minted employee. A small office, battered by time, sits under the concourse. It’s his now.
“There’s a lot of things in there that other people used, who aren’t with us anymore,” Oystrick said.
Talk turned quickly to spinning wheels and Saskatchewan highways, and emotion spilled for a second time.
“I think about our first bus trip, you know?” he said. “How are the players, the families, going to handle that? How is the community going to handle that? How is my wife going to handle that?
“There’s going to be some times where emotions are going to come out, and that’s OK.”
One of his first introductions was to assistant general manager Jason Neville, who, amidst the shock and grief, was tasked this spring with putting a hockey squad together while the team sought a new coach and GM.
An equipment order had to be placed by the end of April, and they knew the hockey world wouldn’t stop for them. There were players to sign, drafts, an evaluation camp to run.
Neville met with Broncos head scout Luke Strueby, and they formulated a course of action.
“We went through all the memorials, and those kinds of things, and you get back, wondering where you go from there,” Neville says.
“And naturally for me, because of what I did for the organization before, it fell back to the hockey part: What are we going to do going forward?”
Neville had worked closely with Haugan for three seasons. After the accident, something would pop up and his first instinct was to call Haugan, to ask for his advice, to run an idea past him, just from sheer habit.
Neville was still grieving when the team held a closeddoor evaluation camp in Saskatoon in late May. He put it together, and had on-ice help from NHL head coaches Jared Bednar and Mike Babcock, who he says treated prospective Broncos like their own players.
Neville threw himself into his work, and other people around the team did the same thing. He felt like he was doing it for a bigger reason.
“You’re running on adrenaline,” he says, “and making decisions with your heart.”
And he built, and built, and built, using whatever resources he and other members of the organization could scrape up.
“There’s always players out there you can trade for. But when you don’t have anyone to trade, that becomes challenging,” he remarks simply.
“Saying that, we’ve had a lot of players reach out to me who want to play for the Humboldt Broncos — and some of them, I’m sure, didn’t even know who the Humboldt Broncos were before April. That’s been kind of neat. We’ve got a lot of young guys who are going to get some opportunities, and it would have been a year down the road before they were given as much ice time as they’re going to get, or put in a place they’re going to be. For me, that’s exciting. Who knows what some of these guys are going to do, who maybe wouldn’t have had that opportunity?”
Neville thinks the team can be competitive this season. It might take some time, he says. But he figures they have a good coach, and some good players at their core, including returnees Brayden Camrud and Derek Patter, who both have a clean bill of health.
So now the team is in training camp, and a season’s on the cusp. Oystrick — glad to finally be on the ice — blows his whistle, shares his vision, digs those hands into this meaty, impossibly unpredictable hockey job.
The day he was hired, then-Broncos president Kevin Garinger talked about tightropes and pressures.
“We know he’s not going to be Darcy Haugan, because nobody will be Darcy Haugan,” Garinger said. “But he will be Nathan Oystrick, and he will bring his own elements to the team and to success as an organization.
“He’s got lots of moving parts, and he has to understand exactly how they’re all moving. It’s very much a big step for him. But I have zero question he will put everything he’s got into it, and that’s all we can ever ask from someone.”
At that same press conference, Oystrick — looking nervous in front of the massive bank of cameras and recorders, the questioning reporters, the roomful of people he didn’t know — offered a glimpse of his early thought process.
“I want to succeed at everything I do, so when Kevin and the board offered me the position, the preparation started right then,” he told the room. “I’m committed, I want to be here, I want to learn. I want to make the Humboldt Broncos organization and the community proud of not only me, but of our team. It’s a work in progress, and I’m going to have a lot of work to do, obviously, still. That work won’t ever stop.”
A few months later, Oystrick sits in the stands at Elgar Petersen Arena, looking more comfortable, his eyes scanning the place that’s slowly becoming a second home.
Sometimes people recognize him, he says. It’s a development he welcomes.
“More at the grocery store — people look at you a couple times, and then say, ‘Hey, are you Nathan?’ ‘Yep — how are you? Nice to meet you.’ And you kind of have a five-, 10-minute conversation with people,” he says. “It’s all about building relationships. Every person you meet kind of tells you a new little tidbit about Humboldt. That way, you learn a lot about the town and the community and how things work.”
Oystrick is also aware that not everybody in the town thinks he should be the head coach. He has no prior ties to the SJHL. He’s an unknown commodity. But after a decade and a half of professional hockey, Oystrick knows the best way to win people over is to perform.
“Everyone I’ve met has been very welcoming and supportive,” he says. “Any organization in the world, any sports organization in the world … people are going to second-guess who they hire as the new boss, or the coach, or the CEO — whoever it might be. Do I take that as an offence? No, because it’s hockey. And I’ve been around this sport long enough to know that you can’t make everyone happy.
“There’s going to be people who are going to question every decision I make, but as long as I’ve thought about it and I feel that’s the best decision for the team and for the organization, and I’m good with it, then that’s all I can really do.
“I’ve got to trust my instincts. I’m open to advice, and I’m open to help. Does that mean I’m going to use that advice? Maybe. Maybe not. But at the same time, and I’ve said it time and time again, my door’s open.
“I’ve had some local people already come and knock on the door, sit down and introduce themselves. That’s part of me getting out in the community, too. The more people I can meet and they can understand who I am, it gives them a better understanding as well.”
As a player, Oystrick tallied five NHL goals. He remembers three of them vividly, including the first one, a “slap pass” where he tried to hit Ilya Kovalchuk in front of the net, and it eluded goaltender Olaf Kolzig. For a few very long minutes, the goal went unannounced because it was unclear who had last touched the puck.
“I’m sitting on the bench,” he recalls, “and finally, honestly, seven minutes had probably gone by in the game, and they’re like ‘Atlanta goal, scored by No. 7’ ….”
Nothing comes easy in hockey, not even your first NHL goal, and Oystrick is now tackling a task that dwarfs those seven minutes of suspense.
The “why” seems elusive. Why take this job? Why now? Why walk that tightrope between past and present? Why not take a job with a smaller emotional investment, one that’s not steeped in rows of crosses and a spotlight that’s relentless?
Because, he says, it’s still hockey.
“When it comes down to it,” Oystrick says, “this is what I know. This is what I’m good at.”
The Broncos’ season begins Sept. 12 at home against the Nipawin Hawks, the team with which they were locked in a tight playoff battle when the bus crashed.
That game will be televised nationally, reflecting widespread interest in the Broncos, and everything that’s happened since April 6.
— Nathan Oystrick
TV screens across the country will show players with a Bronco stitched on their chests, and a coach calling the shots, with the Lord’s Prayer inked on his back.
Hockey season has returned to Humboldt, and it’s the way things should be, in this story, at this time, in this town.