Tag Archives: concussion

Tony O in Chicago with bro Phil and CTE

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Tony’s still wearing the same shitty equipment I was wearing playing pick-up in Guelph in the early 2000s.

And that mask. I try to describe what goalie masks were like when I started playing in 1967, and the best description I can come up with is, they were plastic Halloween masks; at least Tony’s had some wire on it.

He also used to cover his body in Vaseline so the pucks would hurt less.

He still holds the record for single season shutouts, set in 1970.

I have an autographed picture of Tony tucked away somewhere.

Not bad for a couple of boys from the Sault (Ste. Marie).

Tony’s taken a lot of pucks to the head; so have I.

Tony seems fine, me not so much.

Today I (almost) finalized the paperwork to donate my brain to the Sports Brain Bank in Sydney upon my death. They’re affiliated with the U.S. branch and do research on chronic traumatic encephalopathy (see the movie Concussion). They’ve asked us to post a picture with our brain donor card.

Awareness of concussions and how special our brains are has come a long way since 1967, but there is still much that is unknown.

#MyLegacyPledge

Falling down

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First I started falling on my hockey skates and the was the end of my 50-year hockey career.

Then I fell off my bike a couple of times and that was the end of cyclying.

Then I started falling while walking.

My wife thinks I’m a drunk, I think I’ve taken too many pucks to the head as a goaltender in ice hockey since 1967 (the last time the Leafs won the cup), 4 years as a linebacker in North American football, the car crash and everything else.

Amy took me to emergency yesterday a.m. because she’s solid like that.

Three stiches in the ear, a couple in my forehead.

Yes, it fucking hurt.

FML.

Check out my new web site,dougsdeadflowers.com.

‘Goalie/poet’ Gord Downie dies

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It was Sept. 1989, when this 26-year-old first heard the opening chords of Blow at High Dough on a kitchen radio at 5 a.m. in Galt (Cambridge, Ontario), featuring the vocals of 24-year-old Gord Downie.

I was hooked.

The 1980s were a wash-out for rock-and-roll inventiveness, and when the five friends from Kingston Ontario, The Tragically Hip, splashed onto the national scene with their first full album, Up to Here, it felt like something special.

Up to Here became my running companion for the next six years.

I saw the Hip many times over the years, but the best was in a small bar in Waterloo, Ontario, about April 1990, with my ex who was about 7 months pregnant with Canadian daughter 2-of-4.

I remember every moment of that concert.

Gord died yesterday of complications from glioblastoma, a terminal brain cancer.

We humans know so little about the brain.

PTSD, chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE), cancer, addiction, bad wiring, and yet we continue to bash our heads around, in sports as little kids, in cycling and falls around home construction sites. The three concussions I’ve had in the past three months, along with a lifetime of pucks to the head, have made me slow down, be more careful, and try to take care of my brain a bit better.

The best we can do, as Gord said, is try to lift up those around us.

Two of my favorite videos are below.

The first is from a song about North America, although the video was shot near Melbourne in Australia while the band was on tour.

May Ry Cooder sing your eulogy.

A gift from down under.

The second, here’s hoping for peace on Fiddler’s Green.