EDDIE O’S BIGGEST FIGHT
Former Black hawks star feeling‘ whole’ despite grueling rounds of chemotherapy in colon cancer battle
It’s 11:21 p.m. Friday, and a long day is ending for Blackhawks broadcaster Eddie Olczyk as he nears his home in the northern suburbs.
This was a great day. This was a hockey day.
Olczyk called the Blackhawks’ 3- 2 overtime victory against the Sabres.
Even better, sons Nick and Tommy called during his long, snowy drive home with good news from their own games.
Nick, who plays at Colorado College, detailed the Tigers’ 5- 4 double- overtime victory against Denver that ended a 14- game losing streak against their rival. Earlier, Tommy had called to say he scored a goal for the Indy Fuel— a Hawks affiliate— in a 3- 2 victory against the Wheeling Nailers in the East Coast Hockey League.
‘‘ A good night for Team Olczyk,’’ Olczyk proudly said as he pulled into his driveway.
Olczyk, 51, seemed to sense it would happen, too. Hours earlier, while relaxing in his family room, he spoke of feeling ‘‘ whole’’ despite his painful, sometimes debilitating fight against colon cancer.
‘‘ I sprung out of bed today,’’ he said. ‘‘ I knew I was feeling good. I don’t get many of those.’’
‘‘ I don’t think it was easy for him to kind of put himself out there. I think we all want to be in denial at some point. But I also think it’s just therapeutic for he and the fan or the person that he touches. Cancer doesn’t discriminate. It will come after any of us.’’ — Olczyk’s wife, Diana
It’s 7: 36 p. m. at the United Center. Just as the roar begins before the national anthem, a fan yells hello to ‘‘ Edzo,’’ who is standing next to Hawks play byplay man Pat Foley in the broadcast booth.
Olczyk is ready to work; it feels great to work. First, however, he offers that fan a wave and thumbs- up. It’s a gesture he will repeat throughout the night.
Everyone is excited to see ‘‘ Eddie O’’ or ‘‘ Edzo,’’ whose 16- year NHL career started when his hometown Hawks drafted him third overall in 1984.
The enthusiasm starts when he arrives to work and jokes with ‘‘ Frankie’’ at the loading dock. It’s apparent when Olczyk fist- bumps security guards in hallways and says hello to star- struck vendors in packed elevators.
It’s a big hug from former Hawks goalie Tony Esposito, or Olczyk tapping the shoulder of a reporter in the press box, then walking away in jest. It’s talking shop outside the locker rooms with Sabres coach Phil Housley, an old friend and a Hall of Famer.
Olczyk has an open invitation from Hawks president John McDonough to work whenever he’s able. The team loves when he’s around. But Olczyk can’t be there as much as he wants because chemotherapy calls every other week. And that wears on him. Treatments typically start every other Monday morning at Northwestern Memorial Hospital and end when a nurse comes to his house Wednesday to remove a portable pump that supplies another 48 hours of therapy.
By Sunday, he finally starts to feel like Eddie O again.
‘‘[ The chemo is] with you,’’ Olczyk said. ‘‘ You taste it. You smell it. You reek of it. And it just knocks you right down. [ The taste is] probably like licking a fence post 24/ 7. That’s what it is. That’s the only way I can describe it.’’
‘‘ It’s very uplifting to have him around here. I’ve known Eddie for a long time before I came to the Black-
hawks. To me, he’s part of the fabric of this franchise. He’s very positive. He’s a very, very, very positive person to be around. He’s uplifting.’’ — McDonough
It’s 4: 37 p. m. at the United Center, and Olczyk is back in the booth. He takes out his notes and eyes the youth game on the ice. Foley arrives not long after, and their playful banter begins.
‘‘ I’m really, really glad that a few of these games are mixed in,’’ Foley said. ‘‘ I know it’s really helpful for him. It’s great for me. I love it.’’
Of course, no one is more ecstatic than Foley that Olczyk is back. But the man who makes his living by talking goes nearly speechless when discussing Olczyk, a dear friend. Foley fights off his own emotions.
‘‘ I look forward to [ these games],’’ Foley said.
Olczyk works as much as he can. As wife Diana said, ‘‘ No grass grows under his feet.’’ He wants to be next to Foley, in the studio at NBC Sports Chicago or on ESPN’s airwaves with host David Kaplan, a close friend.
But Olczyk also knows what he can and can’t do. ‘‘ Live and learn,’’ he said. Back- to- back games are too taxing now. Attending a morning skate makes a game day too long. Hopscotching from city to city isn’t as easy these days.
One game— the Hawks’ 7- 5 loss Nov. 12 to the Devils— stood out. Olczyk should have stayed home. Foley knew it.
‘‘ I walked into the booth, and Pat right away says, ‘ You don’t feel good do you?’ ’’ Olczyk said. ‘‘‘ Nah, I’m not.’ ‘‘ ‘ Tell them.’ ‘‘ ‘ Let me grind it out.’ ’’ And he did. Having 12 goals to analyze turned out to be a godsend.
‘‘ That kind of helped me feel a little bit better,’’ Olczyk recalled.
In the booth, the chemistry between Olczyk and Foley is tangible. And it’s more than just on- air banter and inside jokes. It’s Olczyk chuckling as Foley tries to swat a pesky gnat while never missing a beat of play- by- play.
‘‘ You OK there, partner?’’ Olczyk said with a smile. ‘‘ I thought maybe I missed something.’’
‘‘ From my seat, after he found out what he had and he was able to come to terms with it, he’s a different person. He has decided that he is going to try and affect as many lives as he possibly can, whether that’s encouraging someone through their own battle or getting people to get a colonoscopy and a physical. Whatever it takes.’’ — Kaplan
It’s 3: 06 p. m. It’s time for Olczyk to leave for the United Center. He has a winding route that takes him through a string of suburbs and Chicago neighborhoods.
‘‘ I’m not one for much sitting,’’ he said.
The thick traffic is fine; it’s expected. Sometimes he’ll do a radio interview. Other times he’ll switch off his phone. And sometimes he’ll listen to WGN.
Occasionally, one of his children will call. His daughter, Zandra, is graduating from Alabama in a week. He beams with pride.
But his mind often wanders. And wanders.
In this case, he thinks about the Hawks’ matchup against the Sabres, then the favorable schedule that awaits the team. He knows the Hawks’ season can change.
Of course, his fight with cancer comes to mind, too. He knows he’ll return to chemotherapy Monday. He knows more treatments darken his calendar.
‘‘ It doesn’t consume me, so to speak, as much as it did,’’ he said.
The game he’s headed to alters his outlook. When the United Center pops into view, Olczyk can feel and hear old Chicago Stadium. Happens every time.
Olczyk, a Brother Rice graduate who grew up in Niles before moving to Palos Heights, smiles at the memories, recalling attending games with his father, Ed. He remembers being a young hockey player with dreams.
‘‘ I grew up there as a kid,’’ he said. ‘‘ That old building, that’s where I grew to love the Hawks, coming to the games with my dad and parking under the L.
‘‘ Sadly, time goes so fast. I can still remember coming to some of those games withmy dad and being so upset when the Hawks would lose and dreaming about, maybe, I could play here someday. I was lucky enough to live that dream.’’
‘‘ There’s only one thing that he loves more than being around the rink, and that’s his family. It’s gold and silver. There is nothing between that.’’ — Foley
It’s 2: 30 p. m. in Olczyk’s home. Puck drop is five hours away, but his tie is on. He’s ready to go. It’s a game day— his day.
‘‘ I’ve had enough quiet time to last me a lifetime,’’ Olczyk said. ‘‘ I’m in a good place. I’m in a really good place.’’
The day after Christmas, he will undergo his eighth chemotherapy treatment. After New Year’s Day, there will be four left.
He’s winning this fight, which started when a tumor the size of his fist was removed from his colon in the summer. Doctors also took 23 lymph nodes and 14 inches of his colon.
Since then, Olczyk has dealt with persistent bloody noses and a blood clot in his leg. His dosages were changed after neuropathy set in on his fingers, pain so intense that buttoning his pants became a problem. His sense of taste never will be the same.
Yet he’s still the same Olczyk, just with a different message.
‘‘ It’s important for me tell my story,’’ he said. ‘‘ When I see people I haven’t seen in a while and let people know how I’m doing, I’m hoping that somebody, if they don’t feel good, they say something.’’
He’s raising awareness by being in the broadcast booth.
‘‘ The games are normal,’’ Olczyk said. ‘‘ I like to think I’m doing the same job that I did before I was sick, as far as doing what I do and everything else.’’
He’s not. He’s doing them better.