In
the world of high stakes athletics nothing seems more important than
statistics.
The
numbers an athlete posts can provide a quantifiable answer to the
pertinent question,
“What
have you done for me lately?
It
may seem cruel and a bit callous, but spots on teams are often earned
and lost primarily based on the stats an athlete produces. Countless
hours on sports talk radio and cable tv are dedicated to endlessly
rehashing the statistics athletes put up. The obsession with the
sports stars and the numbers they produce can be mind boggling to the
point that I rarely, if ever, even follow those radio and tv shows
anymore. There’s just too much over-analyzing and rampant
speculation to hold my interest.
What
is the point?
A
mock draft?
Who
cares?
Trade
speculation?
Why
not wait until an actual trade is made?
Second
guessing the manager of your favorite baseball team?
Sure,
that’s pretty easy Jethro, from the comfort of your Barcalounger,
armed with very little of the experience and information the manager
had at hand.
I
guess maybe I just believe that different numbers should be looked at
to make more valid analysis of athletes.
I’m
not referring to the new analytics that are taking over baseball with
sabermetrics, and PECOTA, as described in the book, MONEYBALL, by
Michael Lewis, and depicted in the movie of the same name, starring
Brad Pitt.
Many
proponents swear by those methods.
I
prefer looking at the figures in a different way of my own.
Perhaps
mine might be a better way of taking the measure of the man.
As
a kid growing up in Minnesota in the 60’s and 70’s I skated on
our backyard rink and rooted for Gopher hockey, the NHL’s North
Stars, and the Fighting Saints in the WHA.
The
guys who played on those teams were my heroes, and what I aspired to
become.
Unfortunately
I never made it there.
Far
from it.
But
some of those guys still remain heroes to me.
One
of those heroes is a fellow named Ted Hampson.
Late
in his career Hampson played two seasons for the North Stars and then
4 with the Fighting Saints. As a fan I really liked Ted because, like
me he is a smaller guy, standing 5 foot 8 inches tall (just a little
bit taller than me).
Ted
could score goals, provide assists, and do whatever the team needed.
In
1969, as a North Star, he won the Masterton Trophy, which is awarded
to the National Hockey League player who best exemplifies the
qualities of perseverance, sportsmanship, and dedication to hockey.
In 1973, while playing for the Fighting Saints, he won the Paul
Deneau Trophy as the WHA’s most gentlemanly player.
Winning
those awards was quite an accomplishment for Ted. More impressive
though may be the fact that at the end of Ted’s career the United
States Hockey League (a midwestern junior hockey league) named their
award for perseverance and sportsmanship the Ted Hampson Award.
A
good friend of mine named Tom won that award the year he played
juniors.
If
memory serves me correctly the award came with a plaque and a small
scholarship check since junior hockey players primarily play to catch
the attention of college hockey scouts and coaches in hopes of
earning scholarships and a spot on a college hockey roster. Tom
earned a college scholarship, had a successful college hockey career,
graduated, and went into coaching for many years, at a lot of
different levels and locations.
A
big part of coaching in juniors and college is scouting and
recruiting players.
At
any high school game there is invariable a cadre of scouts and
coaches in the upper rows of the stands evaluating the talents and
potential of the kids giving it their all on the ice down below. The
coaches could rely solely on the players’ statistics to evaluate
talent, but there’s really no substitute for watching an athlete do
their thing in person.
Spending
so much time in rinks evaluating the same pools of kids means that
many of these scouts and coaches get to know each other fairly well.
Conversations are struck up, old tales are retold, and friendships
are formed.
A
couple of years ago, attending a high school hockey game with Tom, my
friend who had won the Ted Hampson Award, we ran into the actual Ted
Hampson, who now scouts for the Vancouver Canucks. Tom and Ted had
become friends over years of scouting in a myriad of rinks across
North America.
There
is a school of thought that says you shouldn’t meet your heroes.
You’ll
only be disappointed.
I've never believed that.
I
was honored to meet Ted. He was a pretty nice guy but we only had the
opportunity to chat for a short while. You see Hampson was at the
game with his wife and he was going to get something to eat and
needed to get back to his seat beside her before the next period
began.
We
saw Ted’s son Gordie sitting in the stands with his mom, so Tom
pointed out Gail Hampson, Ted’s wife, to me. He then explained to
me that Gail suffered from dementia so Ted pretty much cares for her
full time except when he has a game to attend. Occasionally Ted could
bring her along, but increasingly more often he now needs to arrange
to have a nurse come care for her while he is busy evaluating hockey
players.
Tom
also told me that early on in his friendship with Ted Hampson,
decades after Tom won the Ted Hampson Award, he told Ted about how
honored he had been to win the award, and that the fact that
Hampson’s name, one of the hockey players Tom admired the most, was
attached to it, made it so much more meaningful.
Tom
Hanks, as manager Jimmy Dugan, in the movie A LEAGUE OF THEIR OWN,
famously said,
“THERE’S
NO CRYING IN BASEBALL!”
Well
there’s none in hockey either, except on occasion the combination
of Zamboni fumes and fluorescent lighting can cloud up your contact
lenses and make the eyes of some in the stands to water a bit.
I’m
told that that night, when Tom shared that story with Ted, it was one
of those eye-watering occasions.
Even
though neither of them wear contact lenses.
That’s
their story though, and they’re stickin’ to it.
Sadly,
on January 14th of this year, Ted’s wife, Gail Hampson passed away.
I
heard about it a few days later through social media.
The
next Saturday Tom and I went to watch a high school game.
I
asked if he had heard that Mrs. Hampson had passed.
He
hadn’t, but he knew that another friend, Frank, who scouts with
Ted, and meets him for coffee every Wednesday, would probably have
first-hand information.
After
that period we sought Frank out.
He
filled us in on the details and shared a touching story with us.
Gail
died peacefully on a Tuesday.
The
final arrangements were made and the funeral was planned for a Monday
two weeks later.
Ted
had done all he could do for Gail, for the time being, so when Frank
offered to take Ted to watch a high school game the Saturday after
Gail passed, Ted agreed to go.
As
Frank told the story he was glad to get Ted back in an arena and
doing something he really enjoyed. After a time though Ted developed
a bit of a preoccupied expression, a thousand mile stare. Finally Ted
told Frank that he had been wracking his brain, he had a nagging
feeling he had forgotten to do something. It finally occurred to Ted,
he had forgotten to arrange a nurse to stay with Gail.
But
then he remembered that Gail was gone.
There’d
be no more nurses for Ted to arrange.
After
61 years of marriage Gail is now gone.
61
years of marriage.
61
years as a devoted husband.
In
my view THAT is the most important stat, and the greatest
accomplishment, that Ted has yet achieved.
It’s
also why he remains one of my heroes and I’m glad I was fortunate
enough to meet him. .
The
numbers don’t lie.
