The bus was an hour away from Weyburn before a critical playoff game. The boys were nervous. Then someone turned on the cult hit "Hey Baby" and you could feel the tension float away into the canola fields as the whole team hollered along.
"I wanna know, will you be my girl?"
The bus. It's where junior hockey teams bond. It's where 23
teenagers with 23 different backgrounds become brothers. In
Saskatchewan, which has more miles of highway than anywhere in the
country, there's endless time to make lifelong friendships while
riding frozen roads in the middle of nowhere.
Card games, movies, music, laughter. You pass the time any way you
can. Over the course of a long season, the bus is your second home.
You get on that bus and you entrust your safety to the driver.
While the boys have their fun, the driver carries the burden of making
sure they all get home alive.
The Humboldt Broncos didn't make it.
They played their hearts out all season to get this far. They
travelled to 34 road games without incident. This trip was pretty short
by Saskatchewan standards.
And yet less than half an hour from Nipawin for Game 6 of the
Saskatchewan Junior Hockey League semifinals, a tractor trailer on a
grid road plunged the Broncos into hell on earth.
Of the 29 guys on the bus, 14 lost their lives in the blink of an
eye. Another died in hospital. Others were critically injured.
SJHL president Bill Chow summed it up: "The worst nightmare has come true."
Anyone who has played competitive team sports, any parent, any
coach can relate. That's why Canadians from Saskatoon to Shediac feel a
collective punch to the gut.
Every team knows it could have been them, but it's the small town of Humboldt now carrying a weight heavier than anyone could be expected to cope with.
Any reporter who's hopped on the bus can relate, too.
I covered the SJHL for seven seasons - first the Kindersley
Klippers, then the Estevan Bruins. It's a league of 12 community-owned
and community-driven teams. Each of those clubs is the beating heart of
their respective town.
It takes many selfless people giving of themselves to make it work.
The billet families who take these young men into their homes and treat
them like sons. The board members who embrace the task of keeping the
club financially sustainable. The game day
volunteers. The rink workers. The season ticket holders. It goes on and
on.
So when the Broncos are hurting, every team and every community is
hurting. I saw it in friends and former colleagues from every corner of
the province.
Saskatchewan has never been smaller, or more brokenhearted.
The horror that unfolded April 6, 2018 on Highway 35 near Tisdale
will take a long, long time to process. Lives have been forever altered.
The grief seems unbearable.
But if anyone can hold on to a shard of hope to carry them through, it's the people of Saskatchewan.
The players, families, fans and first responders will need support
from the rest of Canada and the rest of the hockey world long after this
tragedy disappears from the news cycle.
But they will persevere. I know they will. The Prairies are full of strong, good people.
For years, the Humboldt Broncos have been synonymous with success. Now they are inextricably linked with disaster.
We can only offer a desperate plea that this never happens again.
