"Hey Erik, my name is Salim Valji. I'm going to be a sports writer when I grow up, so you'd better start kissing my ass right now."
Once upon a time in February, I sat in my usual spot in the athletics building of MacEwan University in Edmonton, Tim Hortons and Twinkies in hand, chatting with the many friends I currently miss dearly who happened to walk by, and hammered out a French cover letter and resume. After about three hours, my work was complete, an application was sent, and a cautious optimism formed. I was happy. I knew that even if the fruits of my labour were ultimately for naught, I saw an opportunity and seized it. I threw a Hail Mary, so to speak. I went for it.
The above quote is one of my favourite stories to tell people. I was 14 years old at the time. The Edmonton Oilers were having an autograph session at West Edmonton Mall. I had waited for three hours to get my jersey signed by someone, anyone. NHLer Erik Cole, an Edmonton Oiler at the time and suffering through arguably the most trying season of his career, obliged. I said my piece; Cole laughed and wished me adieu.
The story doesn't end there though. I wrote a newspaper article about the experience (Cole had stayed an extra half hour to sign autographs). The column was published in the Edmonton Journal. A week later, a lady whom I had never met wrote me a beautiful card saying how much she loved the article. I still have the card, which was handmade. It is one of my most cherished possessions.
Sometimes we define ourselves too much by our careers and salaries and our plan to achieve corporate greatness. I once read a cartoon by Bill Watterson, the genius creator of the Calvin and Hobbes cartoon strip. Waters could have made millions off his two characters if he had licensed the brand. He didn't. In the strip, the final caption reads:
" To invent your own life's meaning isn't easy…but it's still allowed…and I think you'll be happier for the trouble."
As a young guy who had achieved a fair amount of success in a tough industry, there is no doubt that I fell victim to the previous thought. All of us do at some point. Whether it's a career in engineering or sports journalism or hospitality, society fetishizes 'The Plan' and where we see ourselves in five, ten years. We're told to never be complacent and to strive for the pinnacle of our professions. To put it another way (and to those who have seen the outstanding Al Pacino/Matthew McConaughey film Two for the Money), I was slowly but surely turning from Brandon Lang, the kid who was happy to be there and down to Earth, to John Anthony, the artificial, suit wearing, fast talking 'Million Dollar Man with the Billion Dollar Plan.'
It is impossible for someone to have undergone the experiences I have had over the past few months and not have changed in some way. And that is part of the reason why I knew moving out of Edmonton was my only option. Not being surrounded by others and their expectations is really the best way to gauge who you are and what you want. As a varsity athlete (and great friend) I had the pleasure of covering for two years said (he himself having immigrated to Canada from another continent): "When you're in a new town, you're free. No expectations or worrying about what others think. You get to be you."
In Edmonton, I'm likely known as the guy who loves sports. Going to Montreal and knowing that I wouldn't run into a single person who knew me; that I had so many first impressions to write, was incredibly liberating.
Changes? It's hard for me to objectively say how I have grown since inheriting this freedom. I do think I'm much more confident and open minded; I am incredibly thankful to have had hundreds of experiences that would have otherwise been impossible to have in Edmonton.
The reality is that I'm not 14 year old 'NHL General Manager or Bust' Salim anymore. Maybe the passion and desire for that life is going down.
"There is something pretty cool about getting a phone call from your grandma in Edmonton while you're drinking a Belgian beer, in an Irish pub, in Paris, with Americans."
There's more to life than just hockey. I'm slowly figuring out what exactly that is.
