Volume 3: The People Who Carried Me Part 1

The People Who Carried Me Part 1

This is the start of a series I am calling The People Who Carried Me. The truth is I would not be here today without the people who showed up in my life. Some of them were teammates, some were coaches, some were friends, and some were complete strangers. Sometimes it was a big gesture, other times it was just a few words or a small kindness that came at exactly the right time. Those moments carried me. The first person I want to write about is Rob MacDougall.

On May 6, 2020, I got a message completely out of the blue from a man I had never spoken to before. Rob was an artist, a lacrosse coach, and a guy who had touched countless lives in Oakville and beyond. He had seen me posting about my love for The Tragically Hip and that’s what made him want to reach out. This is what he wrote to me, word for word:

“What’s your mailing address? I want to send you a print of my Gordie. When you get it, put it in the shitter. It’s a place you go every day. You will see it on the wall and it will remind you that you are ahead by a century.

Canada Post Tracking #: 0356492001253411. I did this for you because I like the fact that you are tackling your addiction like a warrior. Your opponent isn’t wearing skates. Every day is a new day. Some are tough and some are welcoming. As long as you maintain the steps and seek out people you love trust respect, you will succeed.

All the guests you have had on your podcast seem to have all the same ingredients that made them who they became. You are interviewing likeminded people. It’s great to match notes but quietly ask them how they are evolving to make themselves move forward. You don’t want to be that child actor that never gets another acting gig. The kid never shakes that character. You want to be new and amazing.

You know hockey. You know how quickly you can get tossed to the curb. One mistake. One disagreement can make a fringe player disappear. Not everyone is an Eric Lindros that is such a force the league puts up with his shit. What those two clowns just pulled the other day trashing NHL wives girlfriends just got themselves the kind of spotlight that every NHLer dreads. You just might want to get them on your podcast and see what’s really going on. Might be the white stuff doing their decision making.

I will be watching from afar looking for your updates and podcast. I may chime in from time to time but just remember that there are a lot of guys like me out there that are rooting for you. No dress rehearsals. This is our life.

PS I couldn’t edit or spellcheck for some reason.”

That Gord Downie print he sent me is still one of my most prized possessions. It hangs where I can see it every single day just like Rob wanted. But it wasn’t just about the picture. It was about what he was really giving me. Belief. Encouragement. A reminder that someone out there cared.

Over the months that followed we became close. Rob would send me long messages filled with encouragement, coaching stories, and advice that hit me exactly where I needed it. On June 18, 2020, he wrote to me again:

“You have good content Brady. Don’t get discouraged that Facebook isn’t providing you the impact. Utilizing all social media at this stage is important. I should be doing for my biz what you are doing for yours.

When I coached hockey one method I had was the theme win your shift. There is a game within the game. I sent every player out on the ice to play that forty five seconds like it’s a full game. If you take the face off and win the draw one nothing for you. If you lose the draw you are immediately down by one. You need to find a way to get that point back. It could be forechecking the shit out of the opponents. Chasing down that puck on a fifty fifty. Everyone on my team was on a mission to win their shift individually. When I began this I had my assistant coaches and doormen focus on one player each shift and tell me their score as they arrived to the bench. I would announce to each player if they won their shift or not. The players were now realizing that there are no holiday shifts. They were being monitored. Some thrived, some felt uncomfortable. I told my team to enjoy the uncomfortable because that’s the starting point to a new philosophy. No dress rehearsals. Full out balls out.

My message to you is just that. When you post keep consistent like you have. The results will show up on your own scoreboard. Your fan base will grow sometimes slowly but it will grow. The awareness is out there.”

He saw me. Not the mess of my past. Not just the guy trying to piece his life back together. He saw the fighter in me and he wanted to fuel that fire.

On December 13, 2020, I made the first of five trips down to stay with Rob in Oakville. At that time I was on welfare. I had no bank account, no license, no car. I was missing five teeth from junior hockey and I hadn’t been to a dentist since 2008. My mouth was in rough shape and so was my life. Rob made it his mission to change that.

The first time meeting Rob in person, he picked me up at the Brontë train station

My first day back in the dentist chair 🤢

He introduced me to Dr Grant Brown and his incredible dental team in Oakville. From the first moment I walked in they treated me with kindness and respect. No judgment, just care. On February 11, 2021, I finally got my smile back. For the first time in more than a decade I could look in the mirror and see something different. That moment changed my confidence completely. Rob was the first person to see me smile again, standing there grinning just as wide as I was. To this day I still drive down there for my dental care because of the connection Rob created.

The day I got my smile back!

I loved being at Rob’s house and looking at his art. He even did some of Don Cherry’s Rock’em Sock’em covers. Those tapes were such a nostalgic part of my childhood and it blew me away to see them in person. I loved being in Rob’s presence. He had this energy about him that made you feel comfortable, like you mattered. I wish I could just say thank you one more time and give him one more hug.

Those trips gave me some of the best memories of my life. Sometimes I would take the train and he would pick me up. We would sit at his favourite pub in Brontë or I would watch him create art in his studio. I was flat broke but Rob never made me feel small for it. He even paid me to help him out. I will never forget painting over weed leaves with white paint so that he could turn the canvas into a Bob Marley piece. Watching him work was incredible.

His kindness didn’t stop with me. Rob knew how much I struggled not being able to do for my kids what I wanted to. At the time my son out west and I weren’t speaking much. Rob knew that, and he also knew I had no money to give him anything special. Out of nowhere he sent Brode, who was living in BC, a signed print of a Bo Horvat piece he had painted. Bo was the captain of the Canucks and my son’s favourite player. Rob didn’t tell me ahead of time. He just did it, quietly, because that’s who he was. He wanted my son to have something that said your dad loves you even when I couldn’t say it myself.

A year later life came full circle. I was regularly on the ice with Bo Horvat at Muskoka Hockey. The same player Rob had painted for my son, as a way to bridge the gap between us, was now someone I was training alongside. Rob also used to tell me stories about coaching John Tavares year after year in lacrosse. Johnny is also a regular with Muskoka Hockey now. It feels like in some way Rob was always weaving these connections into my life before I could even see them.

The last time I ever saw Rob, the day I got my teeth.

Looking back I realize how much he poured into me. He made it all about me. He lifted me up, encouraged me, believed in me. I wish I had seen more of how much he might have been struggling himself. That is the thing about people like Rob. They give so much to others that sometimes their own pain goes unseen.

On October 1, 2021, Rob died by suicide. Writing that still doesn’t feel real. He passed away before I ever started working with Muskoka Hockey, before I began speaking events, before I finally got on my own two feet. Without him helping me get my smile back I honestly don’t know where I would be today. I looked horrible back then. Yes I lost those teeth playing hockey, but I looked like an addict. He gave me the chance to look like myself again. Don’t get me wrong though, I still love having the option to take them out. It’s a great party trick.

There is a heaviness I carry with that date. I have replayed our messages a thousand times and I keep thinking about the little things I missed. He made everything about me. He always asked about my chapters, my podcast, my posts, my kids. I loved that. It felt like a lifeline. But now when I look back I find myself searching for the signs I should have seen. The nights he sounded tired, the quiet pauses in messages, the things he brushed off as normal. I keep asking myself if I could have done more, asked different questions, sat with him longer. I wish I had been better at looking past my own mess and noticing his.

I know the truth and I have to remind myself of it often. He was generous to a fault. He gave and gave and rarely took. People like him can hide pain behind the kindness they hand out. I will never know all he was carrying and I can’t fix what happened. I can only hold the regret and let it teach me. I can let it make me show up harder for others, to check in without assuming everything is fine, to not let my self absorption be an excuse for inattention. I can be better at seeing the people who carry me and asking, are you okay, really okay.

In the summer of 2024 I was invited to play in the Rob MacDougall Memorial Lacrosse charity game. It was the first time I had ever played lacrosse and I was the only one on the floor who hadn’t played professionally, other than John Tavares who could have easily gone down as one of the greatest lacrosse players ever. I drove down in my Durango to play in his honour. To be out there surrounded by players he had coached and mentored was surreal. It didn’t matter that I was a hockey guy. What mattered was the love and respect that everyone carried for him.

I also got to meet Rob’s son that night and share with him what his dad had done for me. How he reached out when I was at my lowest, gave me back my smile, and believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. Rob never told anyone about any of this. He wasn’t about recognition. He just gave, quietly and powerfully.

Standing in that arena, with a full smile, a car parked outside, and a life still full of challenges but miles ahead of where I had been, I realized again what it means to be carried.

Rob MacDougall will always be at the top of the list of people who carried me. He may be gone, but his impact is still here. Rob carried me then, and in so many ways, he still carries me now.

And I can’t forget to say thank you to the two angel donors who helped foot the bill for my dental work. They wanted to stay in the background and they did, but their generosity is written all over my life today. Without Rob connecting the dots and without their kindness, none of it would have happened.

Love you Rob. Thank you.

Me with Rob’s son Dylan after the Rob MacDougall Memorial Lacrosse game.

If anything I’ve written here resonates with you, or if this hits a nerve and you need to talk, please reach out. In Canada you can call or text 9-8-8 to connect with a trained crisis responder 24 hours a day and get immediate, confidential help. 9-8-8 is available across the country and offers bilingual, trauma-informed support.

If you’re worried about someone, it helps to learn the warning signs and what to say. Being willing to ask directly, to listen without judgement, to help keep someone safe and connected to resources, and to follow up are simple things that actually matter. There are clear, practical steps you can learn to help someone in crisis.

If you need more information on how to help someone right now, or want guides for families and friends, Suicide Prevention Canada and similar national organizations have good practical advice on what to do and who to call. If someone is in immediate danger, call 911.