Heading into the tail end of training camp, the team I was under tryout contract with in the French Division 1 league had scheduled an exhibition tournament with teams in the region. Nantes was approximately a 5-hour bus ride from Paris, a beautiful historic city not far from the Atlantic Ocean on the west coast of France.
I had moved out of my coach and general manager's townhouse and into my own apartment. I settled into my studio apartment and happened to have one of my teammates living next door to me, a guy by the name of Steve Kaye from London, Ontario. He was 36 years old at the time. I was 24, and I looked up to him as a big brother in a way for the short time I knew him, someone to talk to who was a fellow countryman with experience playing professional hockey in Europe. He was a good confidant. He grew up in the Toronto area and was someone I felt comfortable with, especially with my health struggles. Steve played in the French league, among other European leagues, throughout his career. He was a 9-year pro. He played NCAA hockey and ventured overseas to pursue a European experience, having retired a couple of seasons prior and deciding he wanted to come back for another season because he missed the game.
Steve took me into Paris on one of our off days, and we met one of his ex-teammates. He was from Sweden and lived in downtown Paris. They played together for a few seasons when Steve played in the top league in France. We went to his apartment for a beer in the city centre. Steve's ex-teammate lived close to the Champs-Élysées, a famous tourist street in the centre of Paris. After we spent some time at the apartment of Steve's friend, we went to a famous pub on the Champs-Élysées called "The Great Canadian Pub." This pub was started by a francophone from Quebec who is a hockey fanatic. The bar is filled with Quebec Nordiques and Montreal Canadiens memorabilia, along with French league championship hockey memorabilia. Pretty cool. Any hockey fans, players, coaches, or anyone else involved in the hockey community who plan on travelling to Paris in the near future should definitely stop by for a few Kronenbourg Blancs! You will have a lot in common with the bar owner!
Steve and I walked to the rink every day during the short time I lived as his neighbour. The day we were leaving for the exhibition tournament, we were walking to the arena, and I remember an incident dropping to one knee as a sharp shooting pain went down into my hip and groin area that would bite and then suddenly vanish. As mentioned in Part 4, these pain episodes would surface periodically. During my time with the team, I continued to be ignorant and much too proud to acknowledge the real underlying issue of my condition. I really wanted to play pro hockey, as this was my chance. I always had aspirations of living in Europe, seeing the world, and playing since I left junior hockey and went on to college. Young and naive at the time, no matter the health repercussions, I wasn't giving up my dream.
That day, we boarded the bus and headed out to Nantes. We played a round-robin tournament and stayed in dorms. I actually managed to put up a couple of apples (assists) in limited ice time over the 3-game weekend tournament, having ups and downs with my energy levels.
The team departed back home at the end of the weekend, and naturally we had a day off the next day after the tournament. We resumed practice the following day, and I was called into the coach's office. They were going to let me go. We had a meeting with the team and announced it was best for me to head home. They didn't want to be responsible for my health, and at the same time I was not performing up to the standard an import player should. They gave me two options: one being to send me on a flight home to Vancouver the following day, the second option being to head to another team on the other side of Paris on a tryout. This team was in the league below, and they needed a 4th import. The contract was to play for the club and teach English comprehension at French elementary schools with the other imports. They asked me if I wanted to go home on a flight the next day or go have a tryout with another team and continue. I decided to take the tryout and head to another part of Paris. I packed my bags, and the general manager from the new club came and picked me up at the train station in Paris.
My time in France was not over, and I settled into my new team. I again found myself in a situation living with the GM and his family until I made the team. Ironically enough, it was time for my appointment with the Crohn's specialist. Prior to my appointment, I was unaware of the extent of my illness, although it was getting progressively worse. I had not disclosed to any representative of the team that I was battling health issues until the extent of my condition was confirmed.
Some days I felt great, others not so good. In retrospect, it was odd the amount of hours I would sleep. My system was in survival mode. I was sleeping close to 16 hours a day, falling asleep anywhere from 11 PM to 1 AM and waking up at 2 PM the following day. Some mornings I woke up in a pool of sweat on the bed sheets. All I ate on most days until practice was bread and Nutella, which I found in the pantry at the manager's family home. As they said I could help myself for breakfast, all I craved was sugar. It was a bizarre craving, and in hindsight I still cannot explain the reason behind my odd appetite. Perhaps it was the easiest on the stomach. I was on corticosteroids, which allowed me to keep my weight on but, finding out later, was the worst thing you could put your body through fighting an infection. Given the fact that Crohn's disease is autoimmune, your organs are working overtime to absorb and detoxify the steroid while fighting an infection.
After settling into the team, there were a couple of francophones and anglophones from Quebec, while the other imports were from Latvia and the Czech Republic. The coach of the team was also a francophone from Quebec and had been a former player in the American Hockey League, and had come over here to play and coach to finish his career. I believe this coach is still with the club today. We had the same schedule planned for the duration of the season, as we were all offered similar contractual terms where we would play for the team and teach English at private schools to young French students. The imports were around my age, all with common interests, as it was a good setup and environment. After my first practice, I was set to have my first exhibition game the following night. More importantly, leading up to my debut, my long-awaited Crohn's appointment was finally here. I took the metro into the city centre. It took me forever to find the hospital. By the way, for any travellers who have ventured to Paris, the Paris metro system is the most complex system one could imagine. Very easy to get rerouted or, worse, end up in an entirely different spot than intended, as many of the lines cross one another. I had no phone plan, only an iPad to navigate. Not very prepared mind you but an adventure nonetheless. Having said that this was almost 15 years ago, and communication and instant messaging were not as sophisticated as they are today. The journey was a battle and a never-forgotten experience, navigating the streets of Paris and then finding my way home.
I finally arrived at the hospital for my appointment. I will say, in my case, the French health care system definitely proved how renowned they are for the care I received. Dealing with health issues in a foreign country can be quite overwhelming, but between pre-wait times and seeing the specialist, it went by relatively quickly. I can't speak for today, but 15 years ago the health care system was efficient and smooth. Zero wait times. During the appointment, we talked about the corticosteroids, the medication I was prescribed back home, and the specialist instructed me to get off this medication immediately. The reason for this is that the doctor took a look at my MRI and CT scans from Canada and revealed to me that I may have an infection which could potentially require surgery. Corticosteroids, although effective in reducing inflammation for Crohn's disease, if an infection is present, weaken the immune system, making it difficult for the body to fight off the infection. He told me I must wean myself off the drugs by reducing my intake each day until finally I cut them altogether. I asked him if we could wait until after the season and if I could still play out the season. I remember his facial expression as if it was yesterday. He was very shocked and confused that I was serious about even continuing to play. This experience made me come to terms that it was maybe time to head home and put my aspirations of playing overseas on hold. I was approaching critical condition.
As I said, I had ups and downs, good days and bad days. The next day I had my first exhibition game with the team and played extremely well, chipping in with another import for the majority of the goals as we handily beat a team in our division. The league quality was not the best, but it was fun to have some success . The organisation brought me into the coach's office after the game and were quite happy to offer me the contract. The league was a regional league, so all the teams were quite close in travel, none more than 2 hours away. The following night we had an away game, and I had an episode where my energy level was not up to par. I had a terrible performance, and the club questioned my consistency. As an import player in this league, you had to be a certain degree above the French players to be in consideration. Hockey is a business. Decisions change from game to game, especially in shortened seasons overseas in semi-professional and professional European leagues. Quite cutthroat.
The GM was not happy. The language barrier was tough as I tried to explain my condition. Through modes of translation, it was best that I returned home to Canada. They organized a flight home. After a long talk with my parents, for the first time in 6 weeks, I was actually relieved to return home and tackle my illness...
What a whirlwind .
Back home to Canada.....
The Crohn's Athlete.