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I've transcribed an hour long radio program that is called 'Sommar i P1' in Sweden (Summer in P1, where the P1 is the radio station). It's his own radio program so he sets the structure, decides what to talk about and does it freely. In between the talking he chooses the music that is played, the music is also linked in the text at correct time.
Summary:
Markus talks about his upbringing, Alexander Moginly, his wife, kids, religion, daycare mother, teammates, coaches, superstars, relationships and more.
Most interesting subjects according to me: Alexander Moginly, daycare mother and his view of a team.
If you see any reoccuring spelling mistakes please tell me what I did wrong and how I should have done it, so I can learn.
The text can't be posted on reddit since it's way too many words and an imgur link wouldn't do it since the youtube-links would die.
I asked around how I should post this, but since I haven't got any answers, this is the way I chose to do.
The most accessible way to post this (it's 18 pages long) is by posting it on the hfboards, direct link here:
You can also download the pdf if you rather do so.
Filedropper link: http://www.filedropper.com/markusnslund
My grandfather Alfons was a pastor in the Filadelfia church in Gottne, right outside of Örnsköldsvik. In the 50's when my father Sture was a kid and played hockey for the local team, the congregation thought that it wasn't suitable that the pastor’s son was active within sports. He had to quit with hockey against his will. I never got the chance to meet my grandpa, but for my dad it was important that I got the chance that he never got. So, I was signed into Järveds IF's kids’ hockey that played on an outdoor ice hockey rink. It was cold and fun. The limit for canceled training sessions was at -16 degrees Celsius. Often the games were interrupted in the middle of the period to shovel the ice, so we could see the puck. I was six years old and teammates cried during the pauses from the burning cold from when the cold and stiff feet started to thaw and the touch came back. It was a serious game from the start.
The decision about my future never had to be made, it was so obvious right from the start. In the first grade I got the question "What do you want to be when you grow up?". "Ice hockey player" was my honest answer. "No, what do you want to work with?" said my teacher, "A real profession" she continued. I felt like she didn't have to understand me, so I just said the only profession I knew "Safety engineer, like my dad". "There you go, that's nice." the teacher replied. To submit to the power of sports, the team’s greatness and the belief in miracles was not good enough for the congregation, but I saw the light. For almost 20 years I was a professional ice hockey player and I never doubted on my faith, hope and love for the sport. Even though I never won anything big.
Cats in the cradle-Harry Chapin
That was ‘Cats in the cradle with Harry Chapin’. I’m the host of today and my name is Markus Näslund and I have my first summer that isn’t between two hockey seasons.
When my daycare mother got sick for a while she was replaced with a woman named Elsie Gradin. Elsie was kind and understood that I loved hockey since it was the only thing I talked about. Between fish sticks, mashed potatoes and milk in different colored glasses she told me stories, “In the US and Canada they play ice hockey for a living, you work out during the days and play games in the evening”. Her son was named Thomas and was a hockey player and played for a team called Vancouver Canucks. Even though I hadn’t seen anything of this in the papers or on TV, it almost felt dreamy to be able to play hockey at work. She promised me to give me a photo of him so I could see how it was in the NHL which was the name of the league. I kept on working out hard, but this time with a goal.
Like for many other athletes my father meant a lot to my career. He taught me everything about working hard, pushed me, praised me and criticized me. But he always reminded me that the responsibility was with me. I was the one playing and therefor had to take on the responsibility. “All the time you put in, you do for yourself. If you want to cheat, you only cheat yourself.” he said often. “If you work out more than your teammates, you have the possibility to get in the range of the guys that are ahead of you. And increase the gap to the guys that are behind you.”. The words of wisdom were hailing over me and I was listening. My father was our coach and he was tougher against me than to the rest of the team. I was the only one that was taken off the ice during a game when I behaved badly on the ice or in the booth. I had to pack the big hockey trunk and walk home during the dark, full of regrets before the match was finished.
At home we made up equipment and methods that we believed could make me better. It was gear to improve the wrist strength. Hoses and sandbags, explosive jumps and barbells. Even after he quit as a coach of the team the coaching continued. When I played we had a sign language and to this day I remember the signs for skate more and shoot more. I loved scoring goals, regardless of the age, opposition or the context. I can still feel the rush you get from seeing the puck hit the frost covered green netting at the outdoor hockey rink or the drop net that was used during the 80’s. In my childhood boy room, I made my own goal out of cardboard and my sisters dolls had to act as goalies. The goal nets had a white cloth to make it look like a drop net that moved more when the puck or ball went in. The total liberation and the perfectness of seeing the puck hit the netting has always been joy in its most ineffable form.
I was brought up in a religious home with a lot of love and empathy. Where we never were allowed to forget about the weak or to be gratified for what we had. We went to church each Sunday, it was equally boring each and every time. I just sat there watching the clock until I was able to play hockey or soccer with my friends. At a big tent meeting when I was around 10 years old I was awakened by a religious revival preacher that made some people come up to the stage at the end of the meeting. It was a lot of people in the stands. The tent that had been set up in our little town was a big thing. We were placed next to each other on the big stage. My mum had dressed me nicely, my dad had combed my curly hair and I was unsure about the situation. The preacher passed every single one of us, stopped watched us in the eyes and said something that was personal but so everyone could hear. To me he said that he could see in front of him that I would get the opportunity to reach out to millions of people. “You will be noticed and you will be seen”. It was nothing that I thought that much about at the time, not later either unless when my mother reminded me plenty of times.
My replacement daycare mother Elsie kept her promise and I was handed a player card with her son on it, the ice hockey pro Thomas Gradin. And my dream got a face. On the card it said “I hope we play for the same club one day” signed Thomas Gradin #23. That was the ticket, it felt real. NHL existed, for real. When I 15 years later wanted to get away from my first NHL club Pittsburgh Penguins, where I was mostly on the bench. I heard the rumor about Vancouver Canucks in Canada seemed interested in me. The young Swedish guy that had barely played. The nowadays ex great player Thomas Gradin, at that time being the head scout with the task of finding new players. With enough poise to influence the leaders of the club “The guy Näslund from Sweden can become something”. My daycare mother Elsie’s son Thomas made them believe in me and we had 12 wonderful years together.
I believe in you – Amanda Marshall
Amanda Marshall with ‘I believe in you’. To be an NHL player is a fantastic privilege with a high salary and everything you want within reach. But if you don’t feel the love for the sport or if you don’t perform on the level that you want to the money is not worth as much. The circle needs to be drawn from happiness, if you focus on the money the circle will not close. The only one that was clear that he played for the money was Alexander Moginly. He had been forced to play ice hockey, been drilled since being a kid. Now he wanted to get payed for what the sport had taken from his life. How he managed to escape the closed Soviet system I will tell you about later.
Now we’re back in my three years of frustration in Pittsburg. Even though I made it here I felt frustrated because I wanted to prove that I was more than a bench player. I barely played and got sent down to the AHL during my first two seasons. An experience that reminded me of the movie Slapshot, an ice hockey comedy about three brutal brothers named Hanson that with violence started to win games for their Charlestown Chiefs. We had an incident in the corridor on our way from the dressing room where the reality surpassed the fiction. When their coach, an ex-hockey fighter with a bad suit and a crooked toupee started to argue with our smallest but toughest player whose father was a former boxer. It ended with a bang and chaos erupted, uproar and screams before we even started playing. I had to survive my first and what it felt like back then, my last contract. I had to endure until I could go back home and enjoy hockey again.
I left Sweden when I had just turned 20. Before I headed over the Atlantic Ocean I asked an experienced player if he had any tip for me about being new. The tip was as simple as the north part of Sweden “speak when you’re spoken to, otherwise be quiet”. I listened and was quiet. During my last year I had the privilege to play with two of my role models. Tomas Sandström from Fagersta and Mario Lemieux, maybe the best player of all time that had won the league ‘Stanley Cup’ two years in a row and was a superstar. He practiced without both helmet and shoulder pads because no one dared to touch him. During the games he decided himself when he wanted to play. He turned around and looked at the coach that always had an eye on the superstar. Made a distinct nodding motion and we knew that it was his time to play. Lemieux was outstanding, his whole aura was beaming with poise and power. At each home game he was waiting in the player corridor. When both teams had hit the ice, it was only him left. The speaker made a long presentation about Super Mario, the arena got dark and one spotlight lit up. Bombs and grenades, he made his entry. The same thing every time.
You’re simply the best – Tina Turner
When Mario was speaking you listened. At a practice when we stood waiting to warm up the goalies, Mario came and stopped on my side. He took my stick, bent it and hit the ice with it. “Kid, your stick is way too short. You need to increase the length at least 5 inches.”. Lemieux told me to swap sticks and so I did, in the middle of the season. At home in Sweden we were schooled not to stand out, be loyal and think of others.
Lemieux had won most of it and had more records than he could keep count on. On top of that he battled with the cancer Hodgkin’s disease. At the same time, he had back problems. He had to put his feet up on a foot stool to tie his skates. Even though he was 2 meters tall he had a technique that surpassed us who were normal sized. I’ve never seen any player with such a mental advantage on the goalies. It was like a cat playing with a mouse each time he came alone taking a shot. I was far from the master during my first years in the NHL.
I was lucky that my girlfriend Lotta moved with me to the United States, to support his mangled boyfriend. Whose dream was starting to slip away. Lotta was wise and balanced even back then. I’ve always been able to trust her judgement. The only time I questioned her was the first time we met. For some reason she was a linesman when we played a school district tournament in soccer during high school. I was playing forward and tore away on the pitch. I managed to get a breakaway and I’m running towards the goal trying to reach a perfect cross when she waves me off for offside. “Again? I can’t be offside all the time.” So I go to the linesman and she doesn’t react to me, she didn’t even give me a smirk of being superior or give me an explanation. She just looked at me and kept on staring. But a bit more questioningly when I told her that she just made another mistake and the reason for doing so is because she hadn’t seen anyone run that fast before. Cocky? Yes. Fun? Nah. Effective? Surprisingly yes. Despite my talent and social tactlessness, it was a start, a bit choppy to begin with. I followed up my linesman disagreement with biking to her house at Jägarvägen for our first date. On my pink bicycle, pulled up tube socks, white shorts and a t-shirt.
Lotta and I got engaged before moving to Pittsburg and we were set to marry the following summer. Yet, a letter from the Filadelfia church ended up in my mailbox. They issued that our relationship was unsuitable. Before I left home, there had been a lot of talk about me coming from a Christian home and my belief in God. When Peter Forsberg and I were successful with Modo and then with Tre Kronor (the national team) he got to talk about hockey. I had to answer questions about the church. “Does God exist?”, “Will you donate when you become an NHL-player?”, “How come there are wars if God exists?”, “How does being Christian and playing hockey come together?”, “How does it feel to get all these kind of questions about your faith?”. I feel uncomfortable with some parts of the church and its belief. But I played along to make it flow. I was only born into the Filadelfia church and therefor I didn’t have all the answers.
In North America no one thought it was strange with God in the locker room, but at home it was suspicious in way. My belief was about feeling safety. It was a part of my upbringing, but I was no spokesperson or missionary. I’m reading the letter sent from the pastor in the Filadelfia church. The message being that it is inappropriate for me as a public person and role model to live together with Lotta without being married. For some, that choose to interpret the bible in that way it might be correct. But for me, who was trying to get my reality to work with my wife, it was only provocative and foreign. I was thinking about my father that had to quit playing ice hockey because of the congregation at church where my father was a pastor. Since they found it inappropriate. How can a belief implicate prohibition? It was my soon to be wife that was my drive to continue. Together we made it through since we believed in each other. Without the church, that’s why I never lost my belief. Because it was mine.
Better as a memory – Kenny Chesney
Kenny Chesney- Better As A Memory
That was Kenny Chesney with ‘Better as a memory’. I’m Markus Näslund, your summer host for today.
The ice hockey’s clearest sign of spring is that Swedish ice hockey players are eliminated from the Stanley Cup playoffs. They get the chance to reimburse themselves with the national team during the WC. If you got selected, you chose yourself if you wanted to join the team or not. Depending on how damaged your body was and how your mental health is after 80 games in the hardest environment, where the only goal to win the Stanley Cup has been shattered. Either you go see the guys to play more hockey, otherwise you get vacation.
1989 the WC was played in Sweden. Tre Kronor was the reign champions at home after the feat of winning the gold two years earlier. The first one since 1962 when “The puck is gliding into the goal!”. I was playing division 2 hockey at the time being, hockey was nice. I was about to head over to the “big brother” club Modo. That I had been loving to beat, but now it was time to grow up with them. Life was joyful, and we were about to become big boys after winning the TV-puck (tournament for 15 year old’s in Sweden) for Ångermanland(district).
Announcer at TV-pucken: “Here we can see the happiness in the booth for Ångermanland as the game is ending. They had the big names, the big names made it happen for Ångermanland. Especially Markus Näslund, he gets the price for being the best player for team Ångermanland in the finals. Even though the goalie surprised and held a high standard throughout the game. The centers, especially Peter Forsberg and number 19 Magnus Wernblom had a heavy workload especially in the second period.”
The goalie by the way, who the commentator Ankan Palmström was talking about is named Magnus Powell. Who became a Swedish champion in soccer with Helsingborgs IF, before he became a pro in Norway. Everything was so enjoyable and fun. We competed in who could work out the most and enjoyed every breath in a life that was a gift.
During the WC that year in Sweden, the Russian player Alexander Moginly was the most promising player. The next big star up in the sky in the east. A lightning fast goal scorer. He was the one who developed the technique ‘quick release’. Instead of dragging the puck, he shot without any backswing which made it almost impossible for the goalies to see when he was going to shoot. It sounds easy but it’s incredibly hard. To win when playing ice hockey in Soviet was to prove that the communist system was the best. Sports were warfare. The sports were used as politics and the wins at the rinks scored propaganda points.
“Real men play ice hockey, cowards don’t play ice hockey” is said in the documentary film ‘Red Army’. About the compulsive conditions where the Russians were raised. But Moginly hadn’t been allowed to choose anything. He was born with a talent, was taken care off by the Russian system. The only possibility for a decent life was to score for the motherland in front of the world in the stands, to declare the super nations strength. If he chose to quit or stop developing all the advantages were gone.
The WC was the time when the Russian bear was supposed to rise on Swedish ground to bring back the gold. Moginly didn’t want to participate anymore, he decided to drop out. All the players behind the iron curtain was also soldiers in the Red Army. Therefor a drop out would count as a desertion, with a chance of being executed. He told his family goodbye without knowing if he would get to see them again or if they would get punished for his flight. For the nights when the team had been locked in, the humiliation when he missed the goal and for all the goals he had been snubbed on. He now wanted to become rich, free and take the power over his own life.
The gambler – Kenny Rogers
Kenny Rogers - The Gambler
That was ‘The gambler’ with Kenny Rogers.
4 months prior to the WC in Sweden Moginly had been playing in the WJC in Alaska. He was handed a business card by an American with the promise to “Call me if you ever need help”. The WC in Sweden became a triumph for the attuned and well disciplined CCCP, and with steady steps in the same pace they were reaching closer to the WC triumph. One night there’s a call from Sweden to the Buffalo Sabres head of development Don Luce in New York. A man is claiming to represent the Russian star and wonders if he can help them to drop out. Luce is awake, with the fear of the business card he handed Moginly to be in the wrong hands he first pretended to be unaware. He asks to talk directly to the player and the phone is handed over. Luce asks some specific questions about their meeting in Alaska. About the time, colors on the walls and the place. He judges the wish as sincere and the position they’re in is now sharp. He promises to try to help Moginly and gets on the first flight to Sweden. If Soviet won the WC as planned, they would be allowed to walk freely in a Swedish shopping center for a couple of hours. They were in a hurry, the map and plan had to be made while running. To smuggle hockey players had never been done before, so a lot of creativity and courage was needed. It was the player that would get punished if they didn’t succeed.
Soviet wins the WC and when their player bus rolls up to the shopping center the spring weather is nice and calm. Like a flock of sheep in sweatpants and sneakers, a bunch of Russian hockey players were carted off the bus by coaches and guards. The flock was moving slowly towards the entrance when a car headed up to the bus. Alexander Moginly never turned around when he ran towards the car where Luce was waiting. The KGB agents reacted too late and couldn’t catch up to their running diamond who escaped with a burnout. Everyone had seen what has happened, but no one had understood what was going on.
The chase is on and now the paperwork starts. Each drop out was a victory for the west world and a loss for the east. Also, a threat that more people might follow his steps. He was 20 years old and a futuristic hope for the nation and he had chosen the enemy over the motherland. The only one that was breathing calmly when hotels were changed in Stockholm hour after hour was the object himself, Alexander Moginly. You can’t regret something that can’t be changed.
The 7th of May 1989 the plane with Alexander Moginly finally landed at LaGuardia in New York. Two days later Moginly was applying for political asylum and let it be known that he was going to play for the Buffalo Sabres. Alexander Moginly played 17 seasons in the NHL, he was the first Russian star in the NHL and the first European to become a captain in the NHL.
We played together in the Vancouver Canucks. He had the number 89 on his back to always remember the year he got away and made it there. I had just left the coldness in Pittsburg for the yearning in Vancouver. I would make my dreams come true and do the only thing I wanted. Moginly was about to take back what was stolen from him by doing the only thing he had been taught. For me, ice hockey was about my self-esteem, identity and person. He only did what was needed, no love. We built our lives around ice hockey but with different reasons. My fortune was unfortunate for Moginly, I got the chance when he got injured.
Good riddance (Time of your life) – Green Day
Good Riddance (Time of Your Life) - Green Day with Lyrics
Green Day with ‘Good riddance’.
My first time in Vancouver was shaky. The GM in charge of the team and the coach that believed in me got sacked. In the middle of the season, the veteran Swedish-hater Mike Keenan took over the team. I got a lump in my stomach when I was informed about who our new coach was. The rumors about his love for mind games and punishment methods would prove to be true. Mike thought that “Hockey is a North American game” for tough guys and not for nice Swedish guys. He was called ‘Iron Mike’ just like the boxer Mike Tyson, but he never used his fists to knock down people. It was worse than that, his punishments were silent and well-aimed. He took me into his office sometimes just to small talk. He both sounded like and looked like Jack Nicholson, with the thin hair going backwards wheezing out his coded language. He alluded to make me believe that my time with the team would be short and that it was probably best for me to go home. He reckoned I was lazy, a coward, fat and untrained. It went so far that I looked away when we passed each other in the corridors or in the locker room. It was no war, it was no hate, it was worse, it was silence and implications.
This would be a long season. I decided to only concentrate on what I could control. Which was training hard on practices and make use of the little ice time I got. I couldn’t cope with wasting energy on predicting his next move, provocation or punishment. When he got sacked for not winning enough games, we parted as friends. The game was over, and it was time to move on, the swift changes within sports. So important and life changing at one time and a handshake later everything is forgotten.
What saved me during the time with Keenan was that our first daughter Rebecca was born, and the sports frustration was gone. My will to succeed and total dedication had become a dead weight instead of a help, it froze. Sports are no longer fun when you get a cramp. After becoming a dad, I both became a professional athlete and a social person. All the time I previously spent on thinking about details and doubting myself, I now spent on my cute little daughter. A little kid gave me a bigger perspective than I knew was possible. I had the pride in hockey, but the foundation was the wellbeing for the family, it gave me security. I didn’t take it poorly when Keenan used me as a bully victim. I could methodically move on and prepare myself for the unforeseen. As long as I was still there I could get the chance.
When the Russian scoring machine Pavel Bure was at home with stranded contract negotiations and Alexander Moginly had back problems and was going to be gone for a while. Our captain and star Mark Messier had to be surrounded with offensive talents. Coach Keenan was forced to take a gamble, putting me next to Messier. After our first game together, we were never separated from each other until he left our team for New York Rangers. After our last game together, he took off his jersey, signed it and gave it to me as a thank you for time we spent together on the ice. That jersey is framed and on the wall in my house in Örnsköldsvik.
The season 03/04 (I believe he says the wrong season here), a Swede could win the NHL scoring title for the first time ever. We were two guys battling for the title. It was me and my childhood friend Peter Forsberg, both born in the summer of 73 but he was born 10 days prior to me. We had competed with and against each other in all kinds of sports during the years. He was always the one taking a gamble to succeed, you probably remember the Olympic shootout in 94. There’s probably a lot of guys that can do the same kind of penalty shot, but only he has the chill to do it in an Olympic final. I think I played it too safe.
In the same way he lacked consequence thinking and not making any risk analysis on the ice, he was sly off the ice. He came with the ideas and I got the blame. We worked together during a summer, mowing the lawn and planting bushes for a wealthy family in their big garden with big lampposts over the coast. “Macke, I bet you can’t climb all the way up to the top of the lamppost” Peter said. I knew that he didn’t know that I had experience from climbing and therefor I took the bet. This will be done with finesse, “Are you totally sure no one is at home?” I asked him on the way up the lamppost. “Absolutely, they’re away, totally sure. Don’t you dare?” he said while hiding in a bush without me noticing. I climbed the lamppost methodically while being concentrated and I was almost at the top when the house owner comes out and yells “I haven’t payed you to climb!”. I made my way down to the ground, apologized for my behavior and promised it wouldn’t happen again. As soon as my buddy came back I was told to tell him that climbing was strictly forbidden.
When I led the points scoring race in the NHL, Peter was chasing me. I came second the previous year, so the pressure was all on me. Peter had a fantastic ability to excel when it mattered the most. Before the last game, I was one point ahead of him. Ice hockey is a team sport and is dependent on its surrounding. I had all the possible back up and nothing to blame it on when he passed me and won the scoring title as the first Swede. Of course, I wanted to win. But it was nice that it was him, because I indulge him that. Without his success and totally unique career, I wouldn’t have been able to push myself or be inspired in the same way. Without him, I wouldn’t have had the same great start to my career. He’s worth all the success he’s had.
Next Swedes to win the scoring title were the Sedin brothers. First Henrik, then the next year Daniel won it. The year I was made captain in Vancouver, a pair of twins made their debut. From the same cold outdoor rink as me. The Sedin twins are now 15 years later the greatest players that have played for the Vancouver Canucks. When they retire, their jerseys will be raised to the rafters as a sign of honor for their contribution. When the jerseys with Sedin on their backs are raised they will be the fifth and sixth player to have this honor in the team’s 50-year-old history. Two out of these six are Canadians, one from Russia and three of us come from Järved(part of Örnsködsvik). It means that half of the six jerseys belong to players from the cold outdoor rink at Modo, Örnsköldsvik. Unbelievable, no one dared to believe that.
Where the streets have no name – U2
U2 Where The Streets Have No Name
‘Where the streets have no name’ with U2.
It’s as simple as complicated to try to describe the thing about higher power, destiny and God. Even harder to defend something you believe in, but not sure how it works. I haven’t been to church for over 10 years, but my childhood faith remains. The sensation about being able to ask for help. Like when I was a kid and my mum had a headache, then I could pray for her and put my hand on her head, hoping for the better. As an adult being alone in the forest being delighted. I try to be thankful for what I got, the freedom, the smells along the trails in the woods of Bonässkogens firs and the utter silence. Me and my family is healthy, everything is so big that I can’t describe it, believe that I deserve it or imagine that it’s mine forever. I can only make a humble bow for the experience that is giving me strength. Call it luck if you want to, coincidence or spiritual as long as you give it a name. The unbelievable exist even though you don’t know what it is.
The story about my mother’s brother Harry has always been with me. When Harry was three years old he told his mother, my grandma that “I’m going to meet Jesus and the angels today”. His mother waved off what he was saying as an adult does when children philosophize and had other things to do. Harry went out and played and left his mother alone in the kitchen. My grandma later looked out through the kitchen window and Harry could not be seen, he didn’t answer when they yelled his name. Later that day, my grandma found him. His feet were pointing up in the air from inside of a barrel that was collecting rain water that was dripping down from the house. He had drowned while trying to reach for some sugar cubes that he had dropped, and they had sunk to the bottom of the barrel.
It was Harry that I thought about during a night in Anaheim when I got the call. A hockey season is to always be in a routine. You don’t want things to be in other ways than it usually is to awake questions, create worry or other things that might interrupt the concentration before the game. The long distance, that you have arrived early the day before to be able to practice before the game and have a nap before the game starts. The private jet with arranged seats, food and drinks onboard, bus to the hotel, dinner in the room or at the restaurant. I had just eaten and called back home at the usual time before I went to sleep. Spent time with the family, checked that everything was ok. Our life was lived in short periods between my travels.
It’s dark in the hotel room in Anaheim, passed midnight with the curtains closed. I’m sitting in bed with my feet on the ground, my elbows against my thighs and stair into the carpet. “Everything good?” I ask wonderingly when Lotta picks up the phone on the first signal when I call as expected to small talk without having anything new to say. She talks about the weekday, tells me that the children are sleeping and about a cute thing happened during the evening. One of our daughters woke up in Lotta’s bed and said, “The angels want to dance, do you see them mum?”. I’m reminded about the story about Harry and it twists my heart. Our house in Vancouver is 200 miles away, I’m away and powerless. I beg, I beg that I can cope with this and that nothing will happen to my child.
We are and have been really spared from the bad things. As a player I was also spared from major injuries, except for one time. During an away game vs Buffalo my skate got stuck in the ice and I fell over my foot that was in the wrong angle. My right leg had been broken, I felt that something was wrong. I couldn’t feel the pain at first but when I looked down and saw that the foot was pointing in the wrong direction, I understood that it was bad. Before the pain took over I felt the bone pipes rub against each other. Then it hurt. Instead of having the operation in Buffalo, the doctor chose for me to be transported home to Vancouver and have a titanium plate that holds my bones in place.
I got a cask from the foot up to the hip, so the injury doesn’t become worse during the trip. I was filled up with morphine and was put in the backseat of a car. It was winter, snowstorm and probably around -10 degrees. I was laying in the backseat with a t-shirt, high on morphine, with the windows down and I was sweating. The physiotherapist that was driving was dressed warm but was freezing. The last part of the trip home was a six-hour long flight from Toronto. We survived the trip, but a six-month long way back was waiting for me.
Rehab is always difficult. An athlete without games gets restless, in a vacuum, time that doesn’t go towards a game felt useless. The year before, the soccer player Henrik Larsson had come back and was playing on the same high level after having both his bones in one leg broken. He was back six-months later and could play in the Euro championship. It was from him that I felt inspired during the boring half year with rehab.
When the rumors about my leg reached the press, a local newspaper called home to my wife that was preparing for the children to go to sleep. Unaware of my injury she said, “Lucky it wasn’t the head”, more is needed to rattle her. It has impacted the whole family. We have a good time and leave no space for worry or whine unless it’s warranted. She and the kids gave me a distance to the hockey. It was important but not essential.
I was sitting in my wheelchair at the kitchen table, with my leg just out of surgery and ate lunch with my three-year-old daughter Rebecca. Lotta was in the city and we were eating leftovers, some of it was small grilled chicken wings. We ate the chicken down to the bone and she got glaze all over her mouth. Suddenly she started to cough, the mouth was open, and she was trying to get something out of her throat. She kept on coughing. I tried to get her attention, but she didn’t hear me. I yelled her name and got up instinctively to help my child. I moved the wheelchair out of the way and support myself on my leg and I fell to the ground. I laid in a pile on the ground and tried to get back up. I turned myself towards Rebecca who was looking down on me with a smile on her face and she told me that she was just joking. I was still down on the floor, partly under the table when I told her that you don’t joke about things like that.
Soldier – Gavin DeGraw
Gavin DeGraw - Soldier Lyrics on screen
Gavin DeGraw with ’Soldier’. Summer in P1 with me, Markus Näslund.
The clock is ticking, and the seasons come and go. Suddenly I was alone playing with a wooden stick. I didn’t have a slapshot that the new composite sticks was developed for. When I played with sticks from a manufacturer that wanted to market their new composite sticks I was grumpy, so I ended up playing with wooden sticks. So the manufacturer had to cover up the sticks to make it look like I played with modern sticks.
The younger guys in the league laughed at my gear. Once when I was setting up to take a draw, the opposite center looked at my blade and kept on looking upwards on the stick till he watched me in the eyes and says, “Are you that f***ing old?”. I’ve played with many hundreds of players during the years. The worst thing about never winning the Stanley Cup is not the feeling about not being the champion. It’s the bounds to the teammates that doesn’t last forever.
You can’t fool your teammates, your colors will be seen when you go out to battle together. Actions and details that happen during a game reveals if you are a genuine person or not. Younger guys that are promoted learn the hierarchy. The rookies had to learn to respect. It’s been good for me. As a captain it’s a narrow balancing. You don’t want to push people down just because you can. It’s good to have other guys around that can be tougher, something you have to learn for things to work out within a team.
As a senior I didn’t win any trophies. Never got to raise the cup in the NHL, WC, Olympics or SHL. I was unfortunately never satisfied with my contribution with Tre Kronor. When I had been forced to decline to participate in the Olympics in Turin, where Sweden won the gold. I understood that it was probably my last chance at winning something with Tre Kronor. As a hockey player in the NHL you want to win the Stanley Cup most of all. You live extremely close to each other and build bonds to people that come from other places than yourself. When it’s going well, you trust each other deeply. And if you were to reach all the way to win the Stanley Cup, that team will forever be bonded with each other. A legendary family that would be brought together for reunions. It’s quite a few guys that I can handle to keep the contact with. People move and disappear in their own destinies.
Gino Odjick that was not allowed to name one of his eight children Pavel after Pavel Bure, but he managed to negotiate so the son could be named Bure as his first name.
Dana Murzyn that became a butcher after his career, is he still standing there?
Donald Brashear with 223 fights in fifteen seasons, that always lived on his own in small, spartan apartments. A lone wolf that didn’t trust no one except for his teammates. He was actually in Modo for a short period this winter and seemed to be doing well.
Peter Zezel passed away in a blood disease.
Luc Bourdon died in a motorcycle accident.
Rick Rypien took his own life.
How did it go for Brian Noonan? That managed to reach all the way to the NHL despite a rough childhood in bad neighborhoods without support from home.
Todd Bertuzzi a monster on 115kg. My best friend and all the worlds best hockey player for a time. When we played our best together, we didn’t have to look towards each other when we made passes. We found each other on the ice almost like the Sedin twins do. Our line was named ‘West coast express’ after the railroad track that heads to Canada on the west coast.
Poor Brendan Morrison who was the center between us, he got way too few passes. He asked loudly if someone had sprayed him with transparent coloring. He even tried to learn Swedish with the hopes of getting his message through, “Passa då, din lilla råtta” (Pass, you little rat).
Todd and I were inseparable until it snapped for him during a game when he knocked a player from behind from the archrivals Colorado Avalanche. He got suspended for the rest of the season. The reason for the attack was to avenge me for being tackled by a player that ended in me getting a concussion. I had to remain in the hospital for observation and I ended up missing out on some games. The chemistry was never the same, the spell was broken.
When my career as a player nowadays is over. It’s more important for me that my former teammates think that I’ve been a good person, a friend, rather than being a good player. It’s very few players that I didn’t get along with. Even though we are so different and come from different upbringings, cultures and countries.
Small town – John Mellencamp
John Mellencamp - Small Town
‘Small town’ with John Cougar Mellencamp.
The sound of silence when I landed back home for a couple of months of vacation is still with me. Not the muffled, pumping traffic and the big city sirens. Just the calmness, birdsong, solo cars driving slowly in the wind swish.
Örnsköldsvik is a small county by the water in the northern parts of Sweden with only 55 000 people. It’s world wide famous for producing ice hockey players. It’s as hard as pronouncing the city’s name for English speaking people as it is hard to answer why we create so many ice hockey professionals. Happily enough they tend to move back after finishing their careers. By counting the number of player exports to the NHL, Ö-vik (Örnsköldsvik) should statistically be a town with 12 000 000 people.
Anders Hedberg was the first guy, back in 1974 he migrated to the smaller and tougher rinks. At one time during my career we were 11 players from back home in North America. The ones who live here are proud and supportive, ice hockey is important. The town is so small that everyone has a connection to some player. Among us players, the bonds between each other was stronger than between our teammates over there. But when we faced each other in the league, that didn’t matter. Just as when we were kids and competed in the practices. Both players and locals are glad for each other’s success.
It’s not until you’re making your comeback with Modo that you have to be alert. To shine in the sparkles in front of thousands of players in the ice hockey’s home country, then to return and skate only using one leg, no one dares that.
I ended my NHL-career in New York Rangers. I always wanted to see and live in the talked about New York. My contract was for two years but I chose to end it after half. I’ve felt during my whole career that I wanted to quit on my terms and not because I was forced to. I’ve had way too many friends that have had long and successful careers, but not knowing when to step down. They’ve been forced away. That means that a lot of people leave the hockey feeling bitter and hurt with a sour taste from all the memories. I wanted to leave with the right feeling. Me and the family were ready to swap the big apple for Ö-vik.
To no longer have to leave my wife and kids anymore created a new family situation. The divorces after travelling-heavy careers are almost a rule rather than exception and I had to find a new place in the house. Since I was free, we could finish the drawing of the circle in Modo. We were a full Modo-line during the WJC in 1993 that were back home again and ready to play together one last time. We had grown up together in a different time. Left the country and the childhood for the big adventure. After thousands of games, millions of dollars and endless life experience, everything was back as it used to be. We would play together again, we still belonged together. 1 by 1 we were supposed to be presented on the ice. When we were young we used to “play” hockey and announced our own names or pretended to be one of the stars. Now we were the old guys, the foxes. Supposed to show what we knew and give back for everything we’ve gotten.
TV-commentator: “It’s time for the three big ones. It’s 16 years ago they played together.”
Announcer: “Forward, number 21, Peter Forsberg. Welcome back, Niklas Sundström. Finally, ladies and gentlemen a big welcome back to number 19, Markus Näslund!”
TV-commentator: “What a feeling. Incredibly huge for Örnsköldsvik and the Swedish hockey”.
Even though I didn’t win any titles, I’ve won a lot as a human being. Learned to give back, be a part of the system and realize the meaning of doing the right things.
Our chairman in Modo at this time was named Göran Eriksson, he didn’t have any hockey background but understood what the team meant for the surroundings. Sports is the biggest thing connecting all of us. You believe in your team, suffer and are happy during the darkness during the winter. He first got me onto the board and made me General Manager later on. It was only because it was he who asked that my answer was yes. I was kind of full on ice hockey, but I didn’t want to say no to Göran. His kindness and humanism affected me, there were only goodness and no enemies. He could make things happen and he was kind. It was Göran who drove my father to the hospital when he got cerebral haemorrhage. Grumpy Sture didn’t think it was necessarily but Göran insisted and thanks to his speedy decision-making the rehab went fairly simple, since the timeframe is decisive.
Göran got leukemia. The best one got the worst. The doctors tried everything, they even tried to reset him with a new healthy spinal cord. Even the immune system broke down and he was out at the smallest infection. We kept in touch with SMS and phone during the tough treatments. I met him when he’s at home during a short leave. Göran was talking so lightly about what he had experienced, even though that it had been a struggle and he was on the brink of not being able to do more treatments. He described his worst days with details and I shivered even though I couldn’t understand what he had been going through. A short time after, he had to give in. There’s something really pointless about him being 52 years old with a wife and two kids having to leave this earthly living when there’s so much left to do. You have so many options in life, but what is predetermined? Göran this song is for you, because I know you’re listening together with your parents. Maybe on a summer field and giggling about my taste in music, that you always thought was a bit wimpy. You would have chosen something different, rock. Me, I’m very satisfied, I think of you when this one is being played, Alter Bridge with ‘Loving memory’.
In loving memory – Alter Bridge
Alter Bridge - In Loving Memory (With Lyrics)
They’ve said I’m like my grandpa (mothers father), a bit introvert, artistic and have troubles opening up. I think a lot about my role as a father to a son that wants to play hockey. It’s important to set boundaries and even more important to give love. I heard a lecturer say that my generation did things to get appreciation from our parents. But we do the opposite as parents, we do things to get appreciation and approval from our kids. At the same time, one of the biggest problems with youth sports is the parents. Dads are calling the coaches and managers in the evening or wanting to talk about ice time and team selection in the grocery store. The kids are usually chill and understands that sports are tough. It’s important to find the joy and friends in a climate where it’s all about winning over each other.
To all the parents that are listening, don’t use me or my dad as a reference for your run. Let the coaches decide and the kids contest. Support and comfort, do not steer. Don’t try to patch up your broken dreams with the children’s uncertain future. As an adult you need distance to playtime, that’s the whole difference. You won’t be able to sweep all the obstacles out of the way to Tre Kronor or the NHL. It has to be the children that are acknowledged by the adults.
In front of myself, I can be self-critical. I can only state that I got it all, but won nothing. I didn’t have enough impact in the end. Sure, I won some individual awards that I’m proud of. Most flattering was when my teammates and opponents chose me as the best player, I appreciate that. But individual awards in a team sport is only a bonus. The core is what the team manage to accomplish and what you do for the team. The team is bigger than you. An outstanding athlete can’t only belong to himself, said by the Russian Anatolij Tarasov. You must subject to things that are bigger than you, the team. Deserve the group, deserve your spot.
My dad didn’t get to play hockey, his asphyxiated force was put on me. And I had a stand in daycare mother who showed me the American dream on a hockey card picturing her son. The Russian Alexander Moginly managed to escape and got his revenge on the system that he hated. Harry drowned when he was going to get sugar cubes out of a barrel. Göran got cancer. And now I’m here. The ball is round, the puck is flat and there’s small margins in sports as we tend to say when we try to explain things we can’t affect.
Turn the page – Bob Seger
Bob Seger- Turn the Page
That was ‘Turn the page’ with Bob Seger. I know that hockey players should play the Metallica version of this song, but Metallica is always played when it’s hockey. We’ll see how we figure that out.
My name is Markus Näslund and I am like everyone else, a human being from coincidence and inexplicable connections. If we hadn’t moved from Härnösand to Örnsköldsvik because of my father getting a new job. And if my mum hadn’t survived the accident when she was run over and was placed in a coma for nine days. Or as a 19-year-old, if the iron skewer had done more than just rip my shirt and went one cm deeper when I fell three meters from a light post. What would I have become? And where would I have been? Something else, somewhere else is the simple answer.
I’m a retired hockey player with a lot of possibilities. The rest of my life is not the life after hockey. I move on and can spend a lot of time with my three kids and they are most important I’ve ever gotten. On top of that I help the local business Fjällräven with expanding in the US. Above all, I’m helping out with building a village in Åre. Living, shops, work, infrastructure and people need space. My expectations and ideas will have to coexist with others. What’s that going to become? What will determine, we don’t know. But what you believe in and what you fight for you decide yourself. I’m convinced that I believe in that.
Turn the page - Metallica
Metallica - Turn The Page (Song And Lyrics)
Summary of songs:
1 Cats in the cradle-Harry Chapin
Cats In The Cradle-Harry Chapin
2 I believe in you – Amanda Marshall
I Believe In You - Amanda Marshall
3 You’re simply the best – Tina Turner
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mNU3aIJs88g
4 Better as a memory – Kenny Chesney
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ZK1gq2qQWc
5 The gambler – Kenny Rogers
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gDwCMxPwJ_4
6 Good riddance (Time of your life) – Green Day
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DyLOkbW9yCI
7 Where the streets have no name – U2
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qurpep6ue-M
8 Soldier – Gavin DeGraw
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2DLo__cMCaY
9 Small town – John Mellencamp
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0CVLVaBECuc
10 In loving memory – Alter Bridge
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qcQ3iegpZTc
11 Turn the page – Bob Seger
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3khH9ih2XJg
I've transcribed an hour long radio program that is called 'Sommar i P1' in Sweden (Summer in P1, where the P1 is the radio station). It's his own radio program so he sets the structure, decides what to talk about and does it freely. In between the talking he chooses the music that is played, the music is also linked in the text at correct time.
Summary:
Markus talks about his upbringing, Alexander Moginly, his wife, kids, religion, daycare mother, teammates, coaches, superstars, relationships and more.
Most interesting subjects according to me: Alexander Moginly, daycare mother and his view of a team.
If you see any reoccuring spelling mistakes please tell me what I did wrong and how I should have done it, so I can learn.
The text can't be posted on reddit since it's way too many words and an imgur link wouldn't do it since the youtube-links would die.
I asked around how I should post this, but since I haven't got any answers, this is the way I chose to do.
The most accessible way to post this (it's 18 pages long) is by posting it on the hfboards, direct link here:
You can also download the pdf if you rather do so.
Filedropper link: http://www.filedropper.com/markusnslund
My grandfather Alfons was a pastor in the Filadelfia church in Gottne, right outside of Örnsköldsvik. In the 50's when my father Sture was a kid and played hockey for the local team, the congregation thought that it wasn't suitable that the pastor’s son was active within sports. He had to quit with hockey against his will. I never got the chance to meet my grandpa, but for my dad it was important that I got the chance that he never got. So, I was signed into Järveds IF's kids’ hockey that played on an outdoor ice hockey rink. It was cold and fun. The limit for canceled training sessions was at -16 degrees Celsius. Often the games were interrupted in the middle of the period to shovel the ice, so we could see the puck. I was six years old and teammates cried during the pauses from the burning cold from when the cold and stiff feet started to thaw and the touch came back. It was a serious game from the start.
The decision about my future never had to be made, it was so obvious right from the start. In the first grade I got the question "What do you want to be when you grow up?". "Ice hockey player" was my honest answer. "No, what do you want to work with?" said my teacher, "A real profession" she continued. I felt like she didn't have to understand me, so I just said the only profession I knew "Safety engineer, like my dad". "There you go, that's nice." the teacher replied. To submit to the power of sports, the team’s greatness and the belief in miracles was not good enough for the congregation, but I saw the light. For almost 20 years I was a professional ice hockey player and I never doubted on my faith, hope and love for the sport. Even though I never won anything big.
Cats in the cradle-Harry Chapin
That was ‘Cats in the cradle with Harry Chapin’. I’m the host of today and my name is Markus Näslund and I have my first summer that isn’t between two hockey seasons.
When my daycare mother got sick for a while she was replaced with a woman named Elsie Gradin. Elsie was kind and understood that I loved hockey since it was the only thing I talked about. Between fish sticks, mashed potatoes and milk in different colored glasses she told me stories, “In the US and Canada they play ice hockey for a living, you work out during the days and play games in the evening”. Her son was named Thomas and was a hockey player and played for a team called Vancouver Canucks. Even though I hadn’t seen anything of this in the papers or on TV, it almost felt dreamy to be able to play hockey at work. She promised me to give me a photo of him so I could see how it was in the NHL which was the name of the league. I kept on working out hard, but this time with a goal.
Like for many other athletes my father meant a lot to my career. He taught me everything about working hard, pushed me, praised me and criticized me. But he always reminded me that the responsibility was with me. I was the one playing and therefor had to take on the responsibility. “All the time you put in, you do for yourself. If you want to cheat, you only cheat yourself.” he said often. “If you work out more than your teammates, you have the possibility to get in the range of the guys that are ahead of you. And increase the gap to the guys that are behind you.”. The words of wisdom were hailing over me and I was listening. My father was our coach and he was tougher against me than to the rest of the team. I was the only one that was taken off the ice during a game when I behaved badly on the ice or in the booth. I had to pack the big hockey trunk and walk home during the dark, full of regrets before the match was finished.
At home we made up equipment and methods that we believed could make me better. It was gear to improve the wrist strength. Hoses and sandbags, explosive jumps and barbells. Even after he quit as a coach of the team the coaching continued. When I played we had a sign language and to this day I remember the signs for skate more and shoot more. I loved scoring goals, regardless of the age, opposition or the context. I can still feel the rush you get from seeing the puck hit the frost covered green netting at the outdoor hockey rink or the drop net that was used during the 80’s. In my childhood boy room, I made my own goal out of cardboard and my sisters dolls had to act as goalies. The goal nets had a white cloth to make it look like a drop net that moved more when the puck or ball went in. The total liberation and the perfectness of seeing the puck hit the netting has always been joy in its most ineffable form.
I was brought up in a religious home with a lot of love and empathy. Where we never were allowed to forget about the weak or to be gratified for what we had. We went to church each Sunday, it was equally boring each and every time. I just sat there watching the clock until I was able to play hockey or soccer with my friends. At a big tent meeting when I was around 10 years old I was awakened by a religious revival preacher that made some people come up to the stage at the end of the meeting. It was a lot of people in the stands. The tent that had been set up in our little town was a big thing. We were placed next to each other on the big stage. My mum had dressed me nicely, my dad had combed my curly hair and I was unsure about the situation. The preacher passed every single one of us, stopped watched us in the eyes and said something that was personal but so everyone could hear. To me he said that he could see in front of him that I would get the opportunity to reach out to millions of people. “You will be noticed and you will be seen”. It was nothing that I thought that much about at the time, not later either unless when my mother reminded me plenty of times.
My replacement daycare mother Elsie kept her promise and I was handed a player card with her son on it, the ice hockey pro Thomas Gradin. And my dream got a face. On the card it said “I hope we play for the same club one day” signed Thomas Gradin #23. That was the ticket, it felt real. NHL existed, for real. When I 15 years later wanted to get away from my first NHL club Pittsburgh Penguins, where I was mostly on the bench. I heard the rumor about Vancouver Canucks in Canada seemed interested in me. The young Swedish guy that had barely played. The nowadays ex great player Thomas Gradin, at that time being the head scout with the task of finding new players. With enough poise to influence the leaders of the club “The guy Näslund from Sweden can become something”. My daycare mother Elsie’s son Thomas made them believe in me and we had 12 wonderful years together.
I believe in you – Amanda Marshall
Amanda Marshall with ‘I believe in you’. To be an NHL player is a fantastic privilege with a high salary and everything you want within reach. But if you don’t feel the love for the sport or if you don’t perform on the level that you want to the money is not worth as much. The circle needs to be drawn from happiness, if you focus on the money the circle will not close. The only one that was clear that he played for the money was Alexander Moginly. He had been forced to play ice hockey, been drilled since being a kid. Now he wanted to get payed for what the sport had taken from his life. How he managed to escape the closed Soviet system I will tell you about later.
Now we’re back in my three years of frustration in Pittsburg. Even though I made it here I felt frustrated because I wanted to prove that I was more than a bench player. I barely played and got sent down to the AHL during my first two seasons. An experience that reminded me of the movie Slapshot, an ice hockey comedy about three brutal brothers named Hanson that with violence started to win games for their Charlestown Chiefs. We had an incident in the corridor on our way from the dressing room where the reality surpassed the fiction. When their coach, an ex-hockey fighter with a bad suit and a crooked toupee started to argue with our smallest but toughest player whose father was a former boxer. It ended with a bang and chaos erupted, uproar and screams before we even started playing. I had to survive my first and what it felt like back then, my last contract. I had to endure until I could go back home and enjoy hockey again.
I left Sweden when I had just turned 20. Before I headed over the Atlantic Ocean I asked an experienced player if he had any tip for me about being new. The tip was as simple as the north part of Sweden “speak when you’re spoken to, otherwise be quiet”. I listened and was quiet. During my last year I had the privilege to play with two of my role models. Tomas Sandström from Fagersta and Mario Lemieux, maybe the best player of all time that had won the league ‘Stanley Cup’ two years in a row and was a superstar. He practiced without both helmet and shoulder pads because no one dared to touch him. During the games he decided himself when he wanted to play. He turned around and looked at the coach that always had an eye on the superstar. Made a distinct nodding motion and we knew that it was his time to play. Lemieux was outstanding, his whole aura was beaming with poise and power. At each home game he was waiting in the player corridor. When both teams had hit the ice, it was only him left. The speaker made a long presentation about Super Mario, the arena got dark and one spotlight lit up. Bombs and grenades, he made his entry. The same thing every time.
You’re simply the best – Tina Turner
When Mario was speaking you listened. At a practice when we stood waiting to warm up the goalies, Mario came and stopped on my side. He took my stick, bent it and hit the ice with it. “Kid, your stick is way too short. You need to increase the length at least 5 inches.”. Lemieux told me to swap sticks and so I did, in the middle of the season. At home in Sweden we were schooled not to stand out, be loyal and think of others.
Lemieux had won most of it and had more records than he could keep count on. On top of that he battled with the cancer Hodgkin’s disease. At the same time, he had back problems. He had to put his feet up on a foot stool to tie his skates. Even though he was 2 meters tall he had a technique that surpassed us who were normal sized. I’ve never seen any player with such a mental advantage on the goalies. It was like a cat playing with a mouse each time he came alone taking a shot. I was far from the master during my first years in the NHL.
I was lucky that my girlfriend Lotta moved with me to the United States, to support his mangled boyfriend. Whose dream was starting to slip away. Lotta was wise and balanced even back then. I’ve always been able to trust her judgement. The only time I questioned her was the first time we met. For some reason she was a linesman when we played a school district tournament in soccer during high school. I was playing forward and tore away on the pitch. I managed to get a breakaway and I’m running towards the goal trying to reach a perfect cross when she waves me off for offside. “Again? I can’t be offside all the time.” So I go to the linesman and she doesn’t react to me, she didn’t even give me a smirk of being superior or give me an explanation. She just looked at me and kept on staring. But a bit more questioningly when I told her that she just made another mistake and the reason for doing so is because she hadn’t seen anyone run that fast before. Cocky? Yes. Fun? Nah. Effective? Surprisingly yes. Despite my talent and social tactlessness, it was a start, a bit choppy to begin with. I followed up my linesman disagreement with biking to her house at Jägarvägen for our first date. On my pink bicycle, pulled up tube socks, white shorts and a t-shirt.
Lotta and I got engaged before moving to Pittsburg and we were set to marry the following summer. Yet, a letter from the Filadelfia church ended up in my mailbox. They issued that our relationship was unsuitable. Before I left home, there had been a lot of talk about me coming from a Christian home and my belief in God. When Peter Forsberg and I were successful with Modo and then with Tre Kronor (the national team) he got to talk about hockey. I had to answer questions about the church. “Does God exist?”, “Will you donate when you become an NHL-player?”, “How come there are wars if God exists?”, “How does being Christian and playing hockey come together?”, “How does it feel to get all these kind of questions about your faith?”. I feel uncomfortable with some parts of the church and its belief. But I played along to make it flow. I was only born into the Filadelfia church and therefor I didn’t have all the answers.
In North America no one thought it was strange with God in the locker room, but at home it was suspicious in way. My belief was about feeling safety. It was a part of my upbringing, but I was no spokesperson or missionary. I’m reading the letter sent from the pastor in the Filadelfia church. The message being that it is inappropriate for me as a public person and role model to live together with Lotta without being married. For some, that choose to interpret the bible in that way it might be correct. But for me, who was trying to get my reality to work with my wife, it was only provocative and foreign. I was thinking about my father that had to quit playing ice hockey because of the congregation at church where my father was a pastor. Since they found it inappropriate. How can a belief implicate prohibition? It was my soon to be wife that was my drive to continue. Together we made it through since we believed in each other. Without the church, that’s why I never lost my belief. Because it was mine.
Better as a memory – Kenny Chesney
Kenny Chesney- Better As A Memory
That was Kenny Chesney with ‘Better as a memory’. I’m Markus Näslund, your summer host for today.
The ice hockey’s clearest sign of spring is that Swedish ice hockey players are eliminated from the Stanley Cup playoffs. They get the chance to reimburse themselves with the national team during the WC. If you got selected, you chose yourself if you wanted to join the team or not. Depending on how damaged your body was and how your mental health is after 80 games in the hardest environment, where the only goal to win the Stanley Cup has been shattered. Either you go see the guys to play more hockey, otherwise you get vacation.
1989 the WC was played in Sweden. Tre Kronor was the reign champions at home after the feat of winning the gold two years earlier. The first one since 1962 when “The puck is gliding into the goal!”. I was playing division 2 hockey at the time being, hockey was nice. I was about to head over to the “big brother” club Modo. That I had been loving to beat, but now it was time to grow up with them. Life was joyful, and we were about to become big boys after winning the TV-puck (tournament for 15 year old’s in Sweden) for Ångermanland(district).
Announcer at TV-pucken: “Here we can see the happiness in the booth for Ångermanland as the game is ending. They had the big names, the big names made it happen for Ångermanland. Especially Markus Näslund, he gets the price for being the best player for team Ångermanland in the finals. Even though the goalie surprised and held a high standard throughout the game. The centers, especially Peter Forsberg and number 19 Magnus Wernblom had a heavy workload especially in the second period.”
The goalie by the way, who the commentator Ankan Palmström was talking about is named Magnus Powell. Who became a Swedish champion in soccer with Helsingborgs IF, before he became a pro in Norway. Everything was so enjoyable and fun. We competed in who could work out the most and enjoyed every breath in a life that was a gift.
During the WC that year in Sweden, the Russian player Alexander Moginly was the most promising player. The next big star up in the sky in the east. A lightning fast goal scorer. He was the one who developed the technique ‘quick release’. Instead of dragging the puck, he shot without any backswing which made it almost impossible for the goalies to see when he was going to shoot. It sounds easy but it’s incredibly hard. To win when playing ice hockey in Soviet was to prove that the communist system was the best. Sports were warfare. The sports were used as politics and the wins at the rinks scored propaganda points.
“Real men play ice hockey, cowards don’t play ice hockey” is said in the documentary film ‘Red Army’. About the compulsive conditions where the Russians were raised. But Moginly hadn’t been allowed to choose anything. He was born with a talent, was taken care off by the Russian system. The only possibility for a decent life was to score for the motherland in front of the world in the stands, to declare the super nations strength. If he chose to quit or stop developing all the advantages were gone.
The WC was the time when the Russian bear was supposed to rise on Swedish ground to bring back the gold. Moginly didn’t want to participate anymore, he decided to drop out. All the players behind the iron curtain was also soldiers in the Red Army. Therefor a drop out would count as a desertion, with a chance of being executed. He told his family goodbye without knowing if he would get to see them again or if they would get punished for his flight. For the nights when the team had been locked in, the humiliation when he missed the goal and for all the goals he had been snubbed on. He now wanted to become rich, free and take the power over his own life.
The gambler – Kenny Rogers
Kenny Rogers - The Gambler
That was ‘The gambler’ with Kenny Rogers.
4 months prior to the WC in Sweden Moginly had been playing in the WJC in Alaska. He was handed a business card by an American with the promise to “Call me if you ever need help”. The WC in Sweden became a triumph for the attuned and well disciplined CCCP, and with steady steps in the same pace they were reaching closer to the WC triumph. One night there’s a call from Sweden to the Buffalo Sabres head of development Don Luce in New York. A man is claiming to represent the Russian star and wonders if he can help them to drop out. Luce is awake, with the fear of the business card he handed Moginly to be in the wrong hands he first pretended to be unaware. He asks to talk directly to the player and the phone is handed over. Luce asks some specific questions about their meeting in Alaska. About the time, colors on the walls and the place. He judges the wish as sincere and the position they’re in is now sharp. He promises to try to help Moginly and gets on the first flight to Sweden. If Soviet won the WC as planned, they would be allowed to walk freely in a Swedish shopping center for a couple of hours. They were in a hurry, the map and plan had to be made while running. To smuggle hockey players had never been done before, so a lot of creativity and courage was needed. It was the player that would get punished if they didn’t succeed.
Soviet wins the WC and when their player bus rolls up to the shopping center the spring weather is nice and calm. Like a flock of sheep in sweatpants and sneakers, a bunch of Russian hockey players were carted off the bus by coaches and guards. The flock was moving slowly towards the entrance when a car headed up to the bus. Alexander Moginly never turned around when he ran towards the car where Luce was waiting. The KGB agents reacted too late and couldn’t catch up to their running diamond who escaped with a burnout. Everyone had seen what has happened, but no one had understood what was going on.
The chase is on and now the paperwork starts. Each drop out was a victory for the west world and a loss for the east. Also, a threat that more people might follow his steps. He was 20 years old and a futuristic hope for the nation and he had chosen the enemy over the motherland. The only one that was breathing calmly when hotels were changed in Stockholm hour after hour was the object himself, Alexander Moginly. You can’t regret something that can’t be changed.
The 7th of May 1989 the plane with Alexander Moginly finally landed at LaGuardia in New York. Two days later Moginly was applying for political asylum and let it be known that he was going to play for the Buffalo Sabres. Alexander Moginly played 17 seasons in the NHL, he was the first Russian star in the NHL and the first European to become a captain in the NHL.
We played together in the Vancouver Canucks. He had the number 89 on his back to always remember the year he got away and made it there. I had just left the coldness in Pittsburg for the yearning in Vancouver. I would make my dreams come true and do the only thing I wanted. Moginly was about to take back what was stolen from him by doing the only thing he had been taught. For me, ice hockey was about my self-esteem, identity and person. He only did what was needed, no love. We built our lives around ice hockey but with different reasons. My fortune was unfortunate for Moginly, I got the chance when he got injured.
Good riddance (Time of your life) – Green Day
Good Riddance (Time of Your Life) - Green Day with Lyrics
Green Day with ‘Good riddance’.
My first time in Vancouver was shaky. The GM in charge of the team and the coach that believed in me got sacked. In the middle of the season, the veteran Swedish-hater Mike Keenan took over the team. I got a lump in my stomach when I was informed about who our new coach was. The rumors about his love for mind games and punishment methods would prove to be true. Mike thought that “Hockey is a North American game” for tough guys and not for nice Swedish guys. He was called ‘Iron Mike’ just like the boxer Mike Tyson, but he never used his fists to knock down people. It was worse than that, his punishments were silent and well-aimed. He took me into his office sometimes just to small talk. He both sounded like and looked like Jack Nicholson, with the thin hair going backwards wheezing out his coded language. He alluded to make me believe that my time with the team would be short and that it was probably best for me to go home. He reckoned I was lazy, a coward, fat and untrained. It went so far that I looked away when we passed each other in the corridors or in the locker room. It was no war, it was no hate, it was worse, it was silence and implications.
This would be a long season. I decided to only concentrate on what I could control. Which was training hard on practices and make use of the little ice time I got. I couldn’t cope with wasting energy on predicting his next move, provocation or punishment. When he got sacked for not winning enough games, we parted as friends. The game was over, and it was time to move on, the swift changes within sports. So important and life changing at one time and a handshake later everything is forgotten.
What saved me during the time with Keenan was that our first daughter Rebecca was born, and the sports frustration was gone. My will to succeed and total dedication had become a dead weight instead of a help, it froze. Sports are no longer fun when you get a cramp. After becoming a dad, I both became a professional athlete and a social person. All the time I previously spent on thinking about details and doubting myself, I now spent on my cute little daughter. A little kid gave me a bigger perspective than I knew was possible. I had the pride in hockey, but the foundation was the wellbeing for the family, it gave me security. I didn’t take it poorly when Keenan used me as a bully victim. I could methodically move on and prepare myself for the unforeseen. As long as I was still there I could get the chance.
When the Russian scoring machine Pavel Bure was at home with stranded contract negotiations and Alexander Moginly had back problems and was going to be gone for a while. Our captain and star Mark Messier had to be surrounded with offensive talents. Coach Keenan was forced to take a gamble, putting me next to Messier. After our first game together, we were never separated from each other until he left our team for New York Rangers. After our last game together, he took off his jersey, signed it and gave it to me as a thank you for time we spent together on the ice. That jersey is framed and on the wall in my house in Örnsköldsvik.
The season 03/04 (I believe he says the wrong season here), a Swede could win the NHL scoring title for the first time ever. We were two guys battling for the title. It was me and my childhood friend Peter Forsberg, both born in the summer of 73 but he was born 10 days prior to me. We had competed with and against each other in all kinds of sports during the years. He was always the one taking a gamble to succeed, you probably remember the Olympic shootout in 94. There’s probably a lot of guys that can do the same kind of penalty shot, but only he has the chill to do it in an Olympic final. I think I played it too safe.
In the same way he lacked consequence thinking and not making any risk analysis on the ice, he was sly off the ice. He came with the ideas and I got the blame. We worked together during a summer, mowing the lawn and planting bushes for a wealthy family in their big garden with big lampposts over the coast. “Macke, I bet you can’t climb all the way up to the top of the lamppost” Peter said. I knew that he didn’t know that I had experience from climbing and therefor I took the bet. This will be done with finesse, “Are you totally sure no one is at home?” I asked him on the way up the lamppost. “Absolutely, they’re away, totally sure. Don’t you dare?” he said while hiding in a bush without me noticing. I climbed the lamppost methodically while being concentrated and I was almost at the top when the house owner comes out and yells “I haven’t payed you to climb!”. I made my way down to the ground, apologized for my behavior and promised it wouldn’t happen again. As soon as my buddy came back I was told to tell him that climbing was strictly forbidden.
When I led the points scoring race in the NHL, Peter was chasing me. I came second the previous year, so the pressure was all on me. Peter had a fantastic ability to excel when it mattered the most. Before the last game, I was one point ahead of him. Ice hockey is a team sport and is dependent on its surrounding. I had all the possible back up and nothing to blame it on when he passed me and won the scoring title as the first Swede. Of course, I wanted to win. But it was nice that it was him, because I indulge him that. Without his success and totally unique career, I wouldn’t have been able to push myself or be inspired in the same way. Without him, I wouldn’t have had the same great start to my career. He’s worth all the success he’s had.
Next Swedes to win the scoring title were the Sedin brothers. First Henrik, then the next year Daniel won it. The year I was made captain in Vancouver, a pair of twins made their debut. From the same cold outdoor rink as me. The Sedin twins are now 15 years later the greatest players that have played for the Vancouver Canucks. When they retire, their jerseys will be raised to the rafters as a sign of honor for their contribution. When the jerseys with Sedin on their backs are raised they will be the fifth and sixth player to have this honor in the team’s 50-year-old history. Two out of these six are Canadians, one from Russia and three of us come from Järved(part of Örnsködsvik). It means that half of the six jerseys belong to players from the cold outdoor rink at Modo, Örnsköldsvik. Unbelievable, no one dared to believe that.
Where the streets have no name – U2
U2 Where The Streets Have No Name
‘Where the streets have no name’ with U2.
It’s as simple as complicated to try to describe the thing about higher power, destiny and God. Even harder to defend something you believe in, but not sure how it works. I haven’t been to church for over 10 years, but my childhood faith remains. The sensation about being able to ask for help. Like when I was a kid and my mum had a headache, then I could pray for her and put my hand on her head, hoping for the better. As an adult being alone in the forest being delighted. I try to be thankful for what I got, the freedom, the smells along the trails in the woods of Bonässkogens firs and the utter silence. Me and my family is healthy, everything is so big that I can’t describe it, believe that I deserve it or imagine that it’s mine forever. I can only make a humble bow for the experience that is giving me strength. Call it luck if you want to, coincidence or spiritual as long as you give it a name. The unbelievable exist even though you don’t know what it is.
The story about my mother’s brother Harry has always been with me. When Harry was three years old he told his mother, my grandma that “I’m going to meet Jesus and the angels today”. His mother waved off what he was saying as an adult does when children philosophize and had other things to do. Harry went out and played and left his mother alone in the kitchen. My grandma later looked out through the kitchen window and Harry could not be seen, he didn’t answer when they yelled his name. Later that day, my grandma found him. His feet were pointing up in the air from inside of a barrel that was collecting rain water that was dripping down from the house. He had drowned while trying to reach for some sugar cubes that he had dropped, and they had sunk to the bottom of the barrel.
It was Harry that I thought about during a night in Anaheim when I got the call. A hockey season is to always be in a routine. You don’t want things to be in other ways than it usually is to awake questions, create worry or other things that might interrupt the concentration before the game. The long distance, that you have arrived early the day before to be able to practice before the game and have a nap before the game starts. The private jet with arranged seats, food and drinks onboard, bus to the hotel, dinner in the room or at the restaurant. I had just eaten and called back home at the usual time before I went to sleep. Spent time with the family, checked that everything was ok. Our life was lived in short periods between my travels.
It’s dark in the hotel room in Anaheim, passed midnight with the curtains closed. I’m sitting in bed with my feet on the ground, my elbows against my thighs and stair into the carpet. “Everything good?” I ask wonderingly when Lotta picks up the phone on the first signal when I call as expected to small talk without having anything new to say. She talks about the weekday, tells me that the children are sleeping and about a cute thing happened during the evening. One of our daughters woke up in Lotta’s bed and said, “The angels want to dance, do you see them mum?”. I’m reminded about the story about Harry and it twists my heart. Our house in Vancouver is 200 miles away, I’m away and powerless. I beg, I beg that I can cope with this and that nothing will happen to my child.
We are and have been really spared from the bad things. As a player I was also spared from major injuries, except for one time. During an away game vs Buffalo my skate got stuck in the ice and I fell over my foot that was in the wrong angle. My right leg had been broken, I felt that something was wrong. I couldn’t feel the pain at first but when I looked down and saw that the foot was pointing in the wrong direction, I understood that it was bad. Before the pain took over I felt the bone pipes rub against each other. Then it hurt. Instead of having the operation in Buffalo, the doctor chose for me to be transported home to Vancouver and have a titanium plate that holds my bones in place.
I got a cask from the foot up to the hip, so the injury doesn’t become worse during the trip. I was filled up with morphine and was put in the backseat of a car. It was winter, snowstorm and probably around -10 degrees. I was laying in the backseat with a t-shirt, high on morphine, with the windows down and I was sweating. The physiotherapist that was driving was dressed warm but was freezing. The last part of the trip home was a six-hour long flight from Toronto. We survived the trip, but a six-month long way back was waiting for me.
Rehab is always difficult. An athlete without games gets restless, in a vacuum, time that doesn’t go towards a game felt useless. The year before, the soccer player Henrik Larsson had come back and was playing on the same high level after having both his bones in one leg broken. He was back six-months later and could play in the Euro championship. It was from him that I felt inspired during the boring half year with rehab.
When the rumors about my leg reached the press, a local newspaper called home to my wife that was preparing for the children to go to sleep. Unaware of my injury she said, “Lucky it wasn’t the head”, more is needed to rattle her. It has impacted the whole family. We have a good time and leave no space for worry or whine unless it’s warranted. She and the kids gave me a distance to the hockey. It was important but not essential.
I was sitting in my wheelchair at the kitchen table, with my leg just out of surgery and ate lunch with my three-year-old daughter Rebecca. Lotta was in the city and we were eating leftovers, some of it was small grilled chicken wings. We ate the chicken down to the bone and she got glaze all over her mouth. Suddenly she started to cough, the mouth was open, and she was trying to get something out of her throat. She kept on coughing. I tried to get her attention, but she didn’t hear me. I yelled her name and got up instinctively to help my child. I moved the wheelchair out of the way and support myself on my leg and I fell to the ground. I laid in a pile on the ground and tried to get back up. I turned myself towards Rebecca who was looking down on me with a smile on her face and she told me that she was just joking. I was still down on the floor, partly under the table when I told her that you don’t joke about things like that.
Soldier – Gavin DeGraw
Gavin DeGraw - Soldier Lyrics on screen
Gavin DeGraw with ’Soldier’. Summer in P1 with me, Markus Näslund.
The clock is ticking, and the seasons come and go. Suddenly I was alone playing with a wooden stick. I didn’t have a slapshot that the new composite sticks was developed for. When I played with sticks from a manufacturer that wanted to market their new composite sticks I was grumpy, so I ended up playing with wooden sticks. So the manufacturer had to cover up the sticks to make it look like I played with modern sticks.
The younger guys in the league laughed at my gear. Once when I was setting up to take a draw, the opposite center looked at my blade and kept on looking upwards on the stick till he watched me in the eyes and says, “Are you that f***ing old?”. I’ve played with many hundreds of players during the years. The worst thing about never winning the Stanley Cup is not the feeling about not being the champion. It’s the bounds to the teammates that doesn’t last forever.
You can’t fool your teammates, your colors will be seen when you go out to battle together. Actions and details that happen during a game reveals if you are a genuine person or not. Younger guys that are promoted learn the hierarchy. The rookies had to learn to respect. It’s been good for me. As a captain it’s a narrow balancing. You don’t want to push people down just because you can. It’s good to have other guys around that can be tougher, something you have to learn for things to work out within a team.
As a senior I didn’t win any trophies. Never got to raise the cup in the NHL, WC, Olympics or SHL. I was unfortunately never satisfied with my contribution with Tre Kronor. When I had been forced to decline to participate in the Olympics in Turin, where Sweden won the gold. I understood that it was probably my last chance at winning something with Tre Kronor. As a hockey player in the NHL you want to win the Stanley Cup most of all. You live extremely close to each other and build bonds to people that come from other places than yourself. When it’s going well, you trust each other deeply. And if you were to reach all the way to win the Stanley Cup, that team will forever be bonded with each other. A legendary family that would be brought together for reunions. It’s quite a few guys that I can handle to keep the contact with. People move and disappear in their own destinies.
Gino Odjick that was not allowed to name one of his eight children Pavel after Pavel Bure, but he managed to negotiate so the son could be named Bure as his first name.
Dana Murzyn that became a butcher after his career, is he still standing there?
Donald Brashear with 223 fights in fifteen seasons, that always lived on his own in small, spartan apartments. A lone wolf that didn’t trust no one except for his teammates. He was actually in Modo for a short period this winter and seemed to be doing well.
Peter Zezel passed away in a blood disease.
Luc Bourdon died in a motorcycle accident.
Rick Rypien took his own life.
How did it go for Brian Noonan? That managed to reach all the way to the NHL despite a rough childhood in bad neighborhoods without support from home.
Todd Bertuzzi a monster on 115kg. My best friend and all the worlds best hockey player for a time. When we played our best together, we didn’t have to look towards each other when we made passes. We found each other on the ice almost like the Sedin twins do. Our line was named ‘West coast express’ after the railroad track that heads to Canada on the west coast.
Poor Brendan Morrison who was the center between us, he got way too few passes. He asked loudly if someone had sprayed him with transparent coloring. He even tried to learn Swedish with the hopes of getting his message through, “Passa då, din lilla råtta” (Pass, you little rat).
Todd and I were inseparable until it snapped for him during a game when he knocked a player from behind from the archrivals Colorado Avalanche. He got suspended for the rest of the season. The reason for the attack was to avenge me for being tackled by a player that ended in me getting a concussion. I had to remain in the hospital for observation and I ended up missing out on some games. The chemistry was never the same, the spell was broken.
When my career as a player nowadays is over. It’s more important for me that my former teammates think that I’ve been a good person, a friend, rather than being a good player. It’s very few players that I didn’t get along with. Even though we are so different and come from different upbringings, cultures and countries.
Small town – John Mellencamp
John Mellencamp - Small Town
‘Small town’ with John Cougar Mellencamp.
The sound of silence when I landed back home for a couple of months of vacation is still with me. Not the muffled, pumping traffic and the big city sirens. Just the calmness, birdsong, solo cars driving slowly in the wind swish.
Örnsköldsvik is a small county by the water in the northern parts of Sweden with only 55 000 people. It’s world wide famous for producing ice hockey players. It’s as hard as pronouncing the city’s name for English speaking people as it is hard to answer why we create so many ice hockey professionals. Happily enough they tend to move back after finishing their careers. By counting the number of player exports to the NHL, Ö-vik (Örnsköldsvik) should statistically be a town with 12 000 000 people.
Anders Hedberg was the first guy, back in 1974 he migrated to the smaller and tougher rinks. At one time during my career we were 11 players from back home in North America. The ones who live here are proud and supportive, ice hockey is important. The town is so small that everyone has a connection to some player. Among us players, the bonds between each other was stronger than between our teammates over there. But when we faced each other in the league, that didn’t matter. Just as when we were kids and competed in the practices. Both players and locals are glad for each other’s success.
It’s not until you’re making your comeback with Modo that you have to be alert. To shine in the sparkles in front of thousands of players in the ice hockey’s home country, then to return and skate only using one leg, no one dares that.
I ended my NHL-career in New York Rangers. I always wanted to see and live in the talked about New York. My contract was for two years but I chose to end it after half. I’ve felt during my whole career that I wanted to quit on my terms and not because I was forced to. I’ve had way too many friends that have had long and successful careers, but not knowing when to step down. They’ve been forced away. That means that a lot of people leave the hockey feeling bitter and hurt with a sour taste from all the memories. I wanted to leave with the right feeling. Me and the family were ready to swap the big apple for Ö-vik.
To no longer have to leave my wife and kids anymore created a new family situation. The divorces after travelling-heavy careers are almost a rule rather than exception and I had to find a new place in the house. Since I was free, we could finish the drawing of the circle in Modo. We were a full Modo-line during the WJC in 1993 that were back home again and ready to play together one last time. We had grown up together in a different time. Left the country and the childhood for the big adventure. After thousands of games, millions of dollars and endless life experience, everything was back as it used to be. We would play together again, we still belonged together. 1 by 1 we were supposed to be presented on the ice. When we were young we used to “play” hockey and announced our own names or pretended to be one of the stars. Now we were the old guys, the foxes. Supposed to show what we knew and give back for everything we’ve gotten.
TV-commentator: “It’s time for the three big ones. It’s 16 years ago they played together.”
Announcer: “Forward, number 21, Peter Forsberg. Welcome back, Niklas Sundström. Finally, ladies and gentlemen a big welcome back to number 19, Markus Näslund!”
TV-commentator: “What a feeling. Incredibly huge for Örnsköldsvik and the Swedish hockey”.
Even though I didn’t win any titles, I’ve won a lot as a human being. Learned to give back, be a part of the system and realize the meaning of doing the right things.
Our chairman in Modo at this time was named Göran Eriksson, he didn’t have any hockey background but understood what the team meant for the surroundings. Sports is the biggest thing connecting all of us. You believe in your team, suffer and are happy during the darkness during the winter. He first got me onto the board and made me General Manager later on. It was only because it was he who asked that my answer was yes. I was kind of full on ice hockey, but I didn’t want to say no to Göran. His kindness and humanism affected me, there were only goodness and no enemies. He could make things happen and he was kind. It was Göran who drove my father to the hospital when he got cerebral haemorrhage. Grumpy Sture didn’t think it was necessarily but Göran insisted and thanks to his speedy decision-making the rehab went fairly simple, since the timeframe is decisive.
Göran got leukemia. The best one got the worst. The doctors tried everything, they even tried to reset him with a new healthy spinal cord. Even the immune system broke down and he was out at the smallest infection. We kept in touch with SMS and phone during the tough treatments. I met him when he’s at home during a short leave. Göran was talking so lightly about what he had experienced, even though that it had been a struggle and he was on the brink of not being able to do more treatments. He described his worst days with details and I shivered even though I couldn’t understand what he had been going through. A short time after, he had to give in. There’s something really pointless about him being 52 years old with a wife and two kids having to leave this earthly living when there’s so much left to do. You have so many options in life, but what is predetermined? Göran this song is for you, because I know you’re listening together with your parents. Maybe on a summer field and giggling about my taste in music, that you always thought was a bit wimpy. You would have chosen something different, rock. Me, I’m very satisfied, I think of you when this one is being played, Alter Bridge with ‘Loving memory’.
In loving memory – Alter Bridge
Alter Bridge - In Loving Memory (With Lyrics)
They’ve said I’m like my grandpa (mothers father), a bit introvert, artistic and have troubles opening up. I think a lot about my role as a father to a son that wants to play hockey. It’s important to set boundaries and even more important to give love. I heard a lecturer say that my generation did things to get appreciation from our parents. But we do the opposite as parents, we do things to get appreciation and approval from our kids. At the same time, one of the biggest problems with youth sports is the parents. Dads are calling the coaches and managers in the evening or wanting to talk about ice time and team selection in the grocery store. The kids are usually chill and understands that sports are tough. It’s important to find the joy and friends in a climate where it’s all about winning over each other.
To all the parents that are listening, don’t use me or my dad as a reference for your run. Let the coaches decide and the kids contest. Support and comfort, do not steer. Don’t try to patch up your broken dreams with the children’s uncertain future. As an adult you need distance to playtime, that’s the whole difference. You won’t be able to sweep all the obstacles out of the way to Tre Kronor or the NHL. It has to be the children that are acknowledged by the adults.
In front of myself, I can be self-critical. I can only state that I got it all, but won nothing. I didn’t have enough impact in the end. Sure, I won some individual awards that I’m proud of. Most flattering was when my teammates and opponents chose me as the best player, I appreciate that. But individual awards in a team sport is only a bonus. The core is what the team manage to accomplish and what you do for the team. The team is bigger than you. An outstanding athlete can’t only belong to himself, said by the Russian Anatolij Tarasov. You must subject to things that are bigger than you, the team. Deserve the group, deserve your spot.
My dad didn’t get to play hockey, his asphyxiated force was put on me. And I had a stand in daycare mother who showed me the American dream on a hockey card picturing her son. The Russian Alexander Moginly managed to escape and got his revenge on the system that he hated. Harry drowned when he was going to get sugar cubes out of a barrel. Göran got cancer. And now I’m here. The ball is round, the puck is flat and there’s small margins in sports as we tend to say when we try to explain things we can’t affect.
Turn the page – Bob Seger
Bob Seger- Turn the Page
That was ‘Turn the page’ with Bob Seger. I know that hockey players should play the Metallica version of this song, but Metallica is always played when it’s hockey. We’ll see how we figure that out.
My name is Markus Näslund and I am like everyone else, a human being from coincidence and inexplicable connections. If we hadn’t moved from Härnösand to Örnsköldsvik because of my father getting a new job. And if my mum hadn’t survived the accident when she was run over and was placed in a coma for nine days. Or as a 19-year-old, if the iron skewer had done more than just rip my shirt and went one cm deeper when I fell three meters from a light post. What would I have become? And where would I have been? Something else, somewhere else is the simple answer.
I’m a retired hockey player with a lot of possibilities. The rest of my life is not the life after hockey. I move on and can spend a lot of time with my three kids and they are most important I’ve ever gotten. On top of that I help the local business Fjällräven with expanding in the US. Above all, I’m helping out with building a village in Åre. Living, shops, work, infrastructure and people need space. My expectations and ideas will have to coexist with others. What’s that going to become? What will determine, we don’t know. But what you believe in and what you fight for you decide yourself. I’m convinced that I believe in that.
Turn the page - Metallica
Metallica - Turn The Page (Song And Lyrics)
Summary of songs:
1 Cats in the cradle-Harry Chapin
Cats In The Cradle-Harry Chapin
2 I believe in you – Amanda Marshall
I Believe In You - Amanda Marshall
3 You’re simply the best – Tina Turner
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mNU3aIJs88g
4 Better as a memory – Kenny Chesney
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ZK1gq2qQWc
5 The gambler – Kenny Rogers
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gDwCMxPwJ_4
6 Good riddance (Time of your life) – Green Day
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DyLOkbW9yCI
7 Where the streets have no name – U2
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qurpep6ue-M
8 Soldier – Gavin DeGraw
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2DLo__cMCaY
9 Small town – John Mellencamp
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0CVLVaBECuc
10 In loving memory – Alter Bridge
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qcQ3iegpZTc
11 Turn the page – Bob Seger
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3khH9ih2XJg
