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By Patrick Tepoorten
When I was 15 my hockey coaches, despite my diminutive stature, decided I’d make a better defenseman than forward, and I was paired with a young man named Pat Schafhauser.
Pat was one of those kids that defied stereotype. Everyone knew he had a future in hockey, including (probably) Pat himself. But the talent he possessed never became a trapping. He was nice to everybody, never lorded his talent, and was always available to help out. He embodied the saying “If you can’t think of anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all,” never uttering a harsh word about a teammate.
Everyone has likely known someone like Pat at some point, the kind of person others are drawn to because of their quality.
Being at an age where the next level of hockey would be high school, we went our separate ways after that season, he to Hill-Murray, me to Roseville High School, and we haven’t spoken since.
Then again, many of us took it for granted we would be hearing from Pat often over the years. No one was surprised when he became a starter at Hill-Murray, a hockey powerhouse, and we were equally unsurprised when he was recruited by, and played two seasons for, Boston College. Along the way he was drafted by the NHL’s Pittsburgh Penguins. No one was shocked.
What shocked all of us though, was the catastrophic injury that ended his playing career. It happened in 1995 while he was enjoying a stint with the Swiss national team. He tripped, slid into the boards head first, and was paralyzed.
I got the call from my mom, also a great admirer of young Mr. Schafhauser. It was devastating to hear that the career of someone so talented and so deserving was over on a fluke. I cried for what could have been.
The next time I saw Pat was a few years later, when I spotted a familiar face on the bench while watching the state tournament. My thought at the time was that he had a personality perfectly suited to coaching high school hockey.
Last Saturday night the Hill-Murray Pioneers won state. By now, seeing Pat in his customary place was old hat, and when the buzzer sounded and equipment went flying I hardly gave it a second thought.
But then something wonderful happened. One by one, players began making their way to the bench to embrace their assistant coach. I don’t know any of those players, nor would I pretend even to know Pat anymore, yet I perfectly understood the expression of affinity that was taking place. Back in the day, Pat was the first person I looked for on the ice or the bench to share the joy of a moment. Apparently his players feel the same way.
Most of us never get a chance to play in Minnesota’s mythical hockey tournament. Fewer still get a second chance. Perhaps one in a million could overcome the challenges Pat had to, to enjoy that unique moment Saturday night.
Like most young hockey players, Pat and I dreamed of a state title. As I sat on my couch Saturday, choking back tears, I couldn’t help note that Pat finally got to realize that dream. It was 25 years tardy, and the road was longer and more arduous than any of us could possibly imagine, but, by God, there he was.
Then again, perhaps I should have always seen it coming. “One in a million” always described Pat.
I would like to offer my congratulations to the Hill-Murray Pioneers for a great tournament. Much more importantly though, I would like to offer them to assistant coach Pat Schafhauser.
The title “champion” is rarely more aptly applied.
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