CLINT MALARCHUK IS IN HIS BARN SOUTH OF RENO, NEVADA. BIRDS ARE CHIRPING AND THE SMELL OF FRESH HAY IS PUNGENT IN THE MORNING AIR.

Sunlight filters through the open door and as he thinks ahead to the day’s chores, Malarchuk is transported half a century and 2,500 km to a ranch near Grande Prairie, Alberta. There, on the southern portion of Peace River Country, is where he cultivated his singular, solitary dream. Malarchuck, more than anything in the world, wanted to be a goalie in the National Hockey League.

“I had one goal, being an NHL hockey player,” he said. “That was all I thought about.”

As such, when he wasn’t on the ice practicing, the young Malarchuk incorporated workouts into his farmwork. Whether it was carrying milk buckets to the pigs, fixing fences, hauling manure or baling hay, Malarchuk was constantly figuring out ways to improve his fitness and flexibility.

“I obsessed about hockey,” he said.

In fact, he obsessed about a lot of things. He described himself as an anxious, insecure kid. Later in life he’d be diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder but at the time there was no such prognosis. He was a bundle of nerves. He hardly slept.

But it gave him laser focus. Soon he was rising above the crop of young goalies coming out of Alberta and eventually, he got picked up by the Fort Saskatchewan Traders of the AJHL, then by the Western Hockey League’s Portland Winterhawks. In 1981, he signed with the Quebec Nordiques.

“I looked up to Bernie Parent in those Broad Street Bullies years, and during the Summit Series, Vladislav Tretiak really got my attention,” Malarchuk said.

Malarchuk himself had been bouncing back and forth from the NHL to the AHL, but in 1988, while he was playing for the Washington Capitals, his second NHL club, he learned that Tretiak was hosting a goalie school in Montreal. Malarchuk attended and his netminding took another leap forward, in part, because Tretiak taught him pre-game meditation exercises which he used to keep his anxiety at bay.

It was not long after one of those visualization routines, in Buffalo, where he was playing for his third and final NHL team, that Malarchuk’s life was changed forever. On March 22, 1989, while playing against the visiting St. Louis Blues, two players crashed hard into the goal crease. As they collided, Tuttle’s skate came up towards Malarchuk’s neck. The razor-sharp blade severed Malarchuk’s carotid artery. It was a horror show.

“A stream of blood gushed out with every beat of my heart,” he said.

He lost 1.5 litres of blood. Doctors put 300 stitches in his neck to close the six-inch wound. 

Somehow, Malarchuk lived. Even more remarkable, was that he insisted on getting back on the ice as soon as possible. Ten days later, he was gearing up.

“My thinking was the longer you wait the more the fear will set in,” he said.

Thirty years ago, there was no de-briefing after stressful incidents. There was no counselling offered. And Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?

“That wasn’t even a set of words back then,” Malarchuk said.

The hockey fans in Buffalo embraced his back-on-the-horse mentality. He buried the incident deep within him. His play on the ice actually improved. The Sabres were winning.

But Malarchuk was suffering alone.

“No one knew,” he recalled. “As a goalie in the NHL you’re supposed to be the mentally toughest, the strongest.”

The following season Malarchuk was struggling even more. His OCD symptoms were off the chart (“I’d be cleaning the house at 3 a.m.”) and his panic attacks made his heart race. He couldn’t sleep at all, and when he did nod off, it wouldn’t be long before he’d bolt straight up in bed, stricken by nightmares, reliving his accident.

“I’d see it so clear, the skate coming up right at my neck,” he said.

His hockey career started to decline. Soon, Malarchuk decided to leave the NHL. He continued to coach lower-tier hockey but his mental health was deteriorating. To bury his demons, Malarchuk took to alcohol. He’d drink dozens of beer each night trying to ward off the night terrors. But the booze only made things worse.

“I was suffering in silence,” he said.

Then, in 2008, coincidentally again in Buffalo, Florida Panthers forward Richard Zednick suffered an injury similar to Malarchcuk’s. Zednick’s neck was cut, causing immediate massive blood loss. The media, naturally, wanted Malarchuk’s take. While Malarchuk made himself accessible, the incident triggered a deep depression, the culmination of which was a suicide attempt. On October 7, 2008, Malarchuk shot himself with a .22 calibre rifle. Somehow, again, he lived. The difference this time was that he admitted he had a lot of healing to do. Six months later, he checked out of a rehab centre.

“That’s when my life really changed,” he said.

What followed was Malarchuk telling his story. Piece by piece, then more completely in his book, A Matter of Inches—How I Survived In The Crease And Beyond. Writing his story was cathartic for him, but more importantly, it helped Malarchuk realize he wasn’t alone. 

“I had no idea how many Clint Malarchuks were out there,” he said. “I had no idea how many people struggled with PTSD.”

Readers reached out to Malarchuck and Malarchuk reached right back. He heard from military veterans, emergency responders, athletes and artists. He heard from men and women. He heard from people of all ages. Making those connections helped him get into public speaking.

And they also helped him hone his message: if you’re struggling, you aren’t weak. You aren’t flawed. And you’re not alone.

“If you’re not alone and you don’t feel like it’s a weakness, you can start helping others,” he said. 

Now, helping others is where Malarchuk spends his energy. Helping others is what he obsesses over.

“Life is tough,” he said. “But we push through, never talk about it and think we’re the only ones.

“But we’re not alone. It’s important for people to hear that.”

Clint Malarchuk is speaking in Jasper on Saturday, June 8 at 5 p.m. at The Jasper Legion (400 Geikie Street). Tickets are $30 (Group Pricing: $300 for 15 tickets) and are available at The Jasper Brewing Co or by contacting Jasper Victims Services, jaspervsu@telus.net or 780 852 2275. Invitation extended to guests 15 years and older.

Bob Covey // https://bob@thejasperlocal.com