From the Archives: The Calm In The Desert Storm

THE PHONE RANG at Bernie Doan’s home that night and the voice at the other end was asking him to go save a drunk in a back alley in town. Bernie had seen this movie before. The man had been at his house many times previously as Bernie and his family tried to help him recover. The guy’s marriage was destroyed and he was in the process of losing his farm, and now he was lying in a gutter.

Bernie Doan took his nine-year-old son Shane with him to the back alley that night. The two of them picked the guy up, brought him to his trailer and cleaned him up a little bit. Bernie doesn’t think Shane has ever forgotten that day.

Not only did that experience teach Shane Doan about the reality of alcohol abuse, it also helped instill in him a deep-seated sense of compassion and charity.

“Whatever you sow, you reap,” Bernie said. “So what are you sowing? What are you reaping? If you sow anger and frustration, you’ll reap the results of it. You sow strife and bitterness, you’ll reap the results. But if you sow forgiveness and gentleness and kindness, you get to reap those, too.”

Fast forward more than two decades later and Shane Doan, with his own son in tow, is standing in the lobby of the Children First Academy in inner-city Phoenix, the largest school for homeless students in the United States. Out of the corner of his eye, Doan spots a five-year-old girl wearing dirty jeans that are ripped from the pocket all the way down to the cuff.

“She was embarrassed because they were dirty and torn up and ripped and she was holding them together,” Doan said. “I had to put my sunglasses on because you get all emotional and choked up.”

More on that later.

IS OUR “No Money” issue, the one time of the season where we vow to not bog you down in the financial minutia that often casts its long shadow over the game. You won’t read about the almighty dollar in this issue. You won’t be subjected to anything about contracts, arbitration, collective bargaining agreements, salary caps or hockey-related revenues. Instead, you’ll read about Shane Doan of the Phoenix Coyotes, who is generally acknowledged as one of the most decent people in the NHL and the captain of an up-and-coming team that might be up and leaving if they don’t start getting more than announced crowds of 6,899 for home games.

“You won’t meet a better guy in the game of hockey, or the world for that matter,” said former NHLer and Coyotes radio analyst Tyson Nash, whose time with Doan dates back to their junior days together in Kamloops. “At least I haven’t.”

Yes, it is difficult to find anyone in hockey with more redeeming qualities than Doan. If he didn’t already exist, the NHL probably would have invented him. His wife could have been a professional model, but the lifestyle didn’t fit the template for what she wanted in her personal life. He has four kids, doesn’t curse (much) or drink, has a deep and abiding belief in God and works tirelessly for a number of organizations in the Phoenix area. In fact, he and his wife Andrea won the Pat Tillman Community Leadership Award in 2007 for their work in the community.

Doan has scored at least 20 goals in nine consecutive seasons, including a career-high 31 last year. Those numbers indicate Doan is a straight shooter on the ice, but off the ice, there is no one who navigates the straight and narrow the way he does. The only time he has been associated with any sort of controversy was in 2008, when an accusation of an ethnic slur against a Francophone referee in Montreal touched off a national firestorm. Doan vehemently denied (and still does) that he said anything insulting; an investigation by the NHL came up with no evidence to the contrary.

If Doan were to hit his finger with a hammer, he would probably say “fudge.” Seriously. He might come up with “son of a birch tree,” just to mix things up. That’s not to say he doesn’t curse, but let’s say he picks his spots just a little more than your average NHLer, most of whom operate in a vernacular that would have a longshoreman leafing through his Thesaurus of Blue Language.

“There are times when I swear,” Doan said, “but my theory on that is if I swear all the time and then I get really, really mad, where do I go from there? You know what I mean?”

Hard to argue with that logic.

To understand what shapes Shane Doan, you have to go to Halkirk, Alta., to the home of Bernie and Bernice Doan. They own and operate Circle Square Ranch, a Christian summer camp that serves 1,400 kids each year.

It was in that environment where Shane spent his most formative years before going off to play junior hockey in Kamloops at the age of 15.

Bernie was a hockey player once, too. Good enough to be drafted 80th overall by St. Louis in 1971. In fact, Bernie is just one branch of a family tree constructed of hockey sticks. His uncles, Calvin and Dallas Ellerby, both played in the Western League. Montreal goalie Carey Price is Doan’s second cousin and Keaton Ellerby, Florida’s first round pick in 2007, is a first cousin. Cousins Justin Hocking and Dwayne Zinger also played in the NHL, if briefly.

Doan’s younger sister Leighann set provincial records in the 100 meters and shot put, a rather odd combination, and played professional basketball in Europe after a career at the University of Calgary during which she was a four-time all-Canadian and national rookie of the year. She’s the only woman in history to be named Canadian Interuniversity Sport player-of-the-year twice and the only one to average a double-double through her hoops career.

Doan’s great uncle, Urban Doan, is in the Canadian Pro Rodeo Hall of Fame and other members of his family have been regulars on the North American rodeo circuit for decades. Two-time Olympic speedskating gold medalist Catriona Le May Doan is married to Doan’s cousin Bart, one of the cowboys.

“If you’re a Doan, you’re either a hockey player or a cowboy,” Doan said, “and I wasn’t tough enough to be a cowboy.”

After being drafted, Bernie Doan played one year in the minors, then left the game to go to Bible college. It was an easy decision. His chances of making the NHL were not great and the lifestyle of a pro hockey player conflicted with his value system.

“I walked away from hockey when I was 20,” Bernie said, “but I made a commitment to the Lord when I was 12.”

Not surprisingly, Doan is a product of his environment. His faith is very personal to him and while he’s not embarrassed by it, he’s not about to go screaming about it from the mountaintops, either. He believes the greatest person to ever walk the face of the earth is Jesus, followed closely by his father. He is not the least bit conflicted by the fact that he has been in 36 career NHL fights, saying he knows a little how King David felt when he wanted to build a temple for God, and God said he couldn’t because he had too much blood on his hands.

“There are some people who will never accept that I can play hockey and fight and consider myself a Christian,” Doan said. “I understand that and that’s their prerogative. And for those people I have nothing to say but, ‘I’m sorry.’ ”

When told that notorious fighter and devout Christian Adam Burt justified his on-ice actions by quoting a Bible passage that suggested anything you do in God’s name, you do with all your vigor, Doan responded: “In everything you do, do heartily as to the Lord, not unto men.”

Yeah, that’s it.

THIS The Children First Academy in downtown Phoenix is one of the most unique schools in North America. Eighty-five percent of its students are homeless.

“And if I took you to where the 15 percent who are not homeless live, they’re pretty darn close,” said Dina Gerdon, the school’s community development director.

More than anything, it provides the resources for homeless kids to go to school and removes the stigma attached to it.

The school regularly supplies free medical and dental care for the students and once a month allows them to pick out new clothes. Families are given food and there is a washer and dryer and shower on site, which lessens the excuses for not attending.

Doan got involved with the school after he and Teppo Numminen went there once to deliver free tickets for a Coyotes game. He was dumbfounded by what he saw in that first visit.

“I didn’t realize the average age of a homeless person in Phoenix is nine years old,” Doan said. “That surprises a lot of people. You view the homeless as people you see on the streets, not the children of people you see on the streets.”

When the school, which was formerly known as the Thomas J. Pappas School, was running a large deficit and its founder was indicted on criminal charges, the state ordered it to be closed in 2008. The state also cited that students were performing poorly on standardized tests. Gerdon acknowledges most students are one or two grades below where they should be for their age.

“They were saying their marks weren’t good enough and I’m like, ‘How can you compare the marks these kids get? Most are just trying to get through the day,’ ” Doan said. “I don’t need to tell you this. I get really fired up about that school.”

During the crisis, there was one point when the teachers hadn’t been paid in three weeks. Gerdon said Doan showed up unannounced and made a contribution to each teacher in the school. He helped fund the clothing room and this year made a donation that allowed a physical-education teacher to be brought in two days a week. He takes students for a pizza-and-skating outing every year and holds a family night for the school at a Coyotes game.

But it was when the place was about to close its doors that Doan made his most significant contribution. He passionately advocated for it, appealing to both the governor of Arizona and the mayor of Phoenix to keep the school open. Last year, it received charter school status and re-opened as Children First Academy.

“He was saying to these people, ‘I can’t stand to see this close,’ and had tears in his eyes,” said Gerdon, who describes Doan as a quiet angel for the school. “He just kept saying, ‘What can I do? Tell me what I can do.’ ”

Doan became heavily involved with the United Blood Service when he discovered his blood type was O-negative, which is the universal donor type. He is the point man for the Coyotes’ efforts with the Phoenix Children’s Hospital, and he and Andrea often show up at the hospital unannounced to visit with patients. When he visits, he often volunteers to spend time with the kids in intensive care – ones who have undergone spinal fusions or have a brain tumor, severe trauma or some form of cancer.

“He gets it and when he walks into a room, he knows exactly what’s appropriate and what’s not,” said Wendy Pauker, a child life specialist at the hospital. “I can just go in and introduce him to the family and the patient and then I can just step out and let him do his thing. I don’t need to stand there and be part of the conversation because he knows the right things to say. He’s very genuine and when he’s here interacting with the kids, you can tell he’s really connected.”

Through all of this, Doan is trying to stickhandle his team through the most tumultuous time in franchise history. Its off-ice woes have been well-documented and since this is the “No Money” issue, we won’t get into all that. The team received a reprieve for this season and after attracting a sellout crowd for its opener with obscenely cheap tickets, the Coyotes had an announced crowd of fewer than 7,000 for their second home game.

Things are dire and the players have no idea where they’re going to be playing long-term. But that didn’t stop them from coming out of the gate rather impressively this season. The stated objective is to make the playoffs, something the Coyotes haven’t done since 2002. Doan was named captain of the team before the 2003-04 season and the Coyotes moved outside Phoenix to Glendale midway through that year.

“Don’t tell anyone, but I think we’re pretty good,” Doan said. “But let everyone think we’re not.”

Doan had a chance to leave for a contending, more stable team when he became an unrestricted free agent a few years ago. And he insists the Coyotes had plenty of chances to move him, too. More than that, though, he feels a personal responsibility to contribute to some good times on the ice.

“As long as I’ve been captain we’ve never made the playoffs and you kind of take that personally,” said Doan honestly. “Say want you want, but what it comes down to is I’ve kind of been the common denominator.”

He makes people wait. Yup, that’s about it. According to Nash, Doan will think nothing of striking up a half-hour conversation with a stranger, and if there’s a kid involved, there’s no telling how long he’ll be gabbing. He and Nash billeted at the same home in Kamloops for three years and it was common for Doan to leave Nash idling in the driveway for 20 minutes waiting to take him to school.

“He’s so laid back, it’s painful,” Nash said. “I don’t want to say he’s clueless because he’s a smart guy, but he’s just like, ‘doh-dee-doh’ all the time.”

And he’s a bit of a big kid sometimes. He can usually be found on the Coyotes’ charters playing video games with the 19-year-olds. During the lockout, Doan, Nash, Jarome Iginla and Darcy Tucker played in a charity game and checked into their rooms about 1 a.m. Nash recalls a knock on the door and before he could open it, Doan had burst in and tackled him. Iginla and Tucker soon joined in on a tag-team match that resulted in a busted TV and broken coffee table.

Yes, and Nash has one parting shot to deliver Doan’s way.

“Tell him with all the limelight and TV exposure he’s getting, he should start using whitening strips instead of nicotine strips on his teeth,” Nash said.

Nobody ever said Shane Doan was perfect.