After the fight was broken up, Lowry was still incensed and challenged Podein to fight again, because the referees quickly left them and were preoccupied with the large pile of players in the center of the ice. Because Lowry didn’t have a jersey on, Podein did the honorable thing and removed his own so that Lowry wouldn’t have a disadvantage. Podein tossed the jersey aside, and the two locked up again in their pads. Paul Laus, the Panthers’ enforcer, saw what was happening and quickly jumped in. A dogpile ensued, after which Podein was escorted off the ice, buting his grand exit the entire Flyers bench stood up and applauded him for his ef- forts.
“Lowry shit-kicked me, just like most everyone else did,” Podein says now. Podein played five seasons and more than three hundred games with the Flyers, including their run to the Stanley Cup Finals in 1997, which they lost to the Detroit Red Wings. In 1998, in an effort to increase scoring, the Flyers traded Podein to the Colorado Avalanche for Keith Jones. Although Podein was heartbroken to leave Philadelphia, he stepped right onto another team that was prepared to make deep runs in the playoffs. The Avs at the time were loaded with world-class players such as Joe Sakic, Peter Forsberg, Milan Hejduk, Patrick Roy, and Chris Drury. Podein provided the grit on the third line and formed great chemistry with Stephane Yelle and Eric Messier. Once again, Podein laid his body on the altar of hockey.
Podein leans back on his stool in the ice rink lobby and curls up the inside of his lip to show me something.
“See how the inside of the lip hangs down low? That flap of skin is scar tissue,”
Podein says. “I was in Montreal and was taking a slap shot. I was falling to the ice and a guy slashed me right in the face, and I chipped my tooth and cut open the whole lip. Later on in the game, I fought the guy who did it, and he hit me again and busted it wide open a second time.”
Podein pulls up the top lip a second time and exposes a tooth that is shorter than the others in the row. Then a crazed look comes into his eyes. The second part of the story comes to life, and he lets out a chuckle to himself. A cluster of children parades through the lobby, bags lugged over their shoulders as they trash- talk each other. Podein lets them pass by and then begins the story.
“Well, I’m in Colorado,” Podein says. “My wife and I are fostering dogs. One of our foster dogs tries to kill my dog, so I run in to stop it. I’ve read that you’re sup- posed to pull their tail and legs to get them off, and I do that, but nothing hap- pened. Then I spray water. The foster dog still won’t let go. So I go ahead and bite the dog in the neck. I bite as hard as I can, and I chip the same tooth again. The foster dog finally let go. I was so mad I ended up throwing the dog over a fence.
“I got the tooth fixed,” Podein continues casually, as if a grown man biting a ca- nine is an everyday event. “Then in Game Seven in the 2001 Stanley Cup Finals ver- sus the Devils, I run into Devils defenseman Sean O’Donnell. It’s a quick chip out and I’m going by him. Sean winds up and punches me right in the mouth and knocks the same tooth out again. I tell myself that I’m not going to get this tooth fixed anytime soon. I bust my lip, chip the tooth. I bite a dog and chip my tooth. Then I get the same one knocked out in Game Seven. Not bad.”
The Avalanche won Game 7 and the Cup against the New Jersey Devils, and one of Podein’s childhood dreams was achieved. Soaked in blood, sweat, tears, and beer inside the locker room after the win, Podein took a moment remember all the people who had helped him get there. He thought of Frank Serratore, the Rochester USHL coach who stuck his neck out and secured practice time for him with the UMD team that initially rejected him. He laughed about his days with Craig MacTavish, the longtime NHL veteran who mentored him and ensured the Flyers that Podein wouldn’t be a problem if he joined the team. He thought of the 3M Line—him, Joel Otto, and Trent Klatt—and all their battles in the trenches to- gether, three Minnesota boys playing on the same line in the NHL, and how sweet that was.
He looked around the locker room at current teammates like Joe Sakic and Peter Forsberg, two of the best players to ever play the game, who had helped him realize that because he was a mucker, his role on the team was invaluable. He thought of his wife and his parents and his brothers. He remembered all the kids he’d helped over the years when he volunteered. He remembered his ’78 Vega and those long, snowy drives in the dead of a Minnesota winter with no heat and nothing but the bawdy old radio show Sex Talk to keep him company. He stood there in the Avalanche locker room soaked in memories—and a lot more and took it all in and wanted to stay in that moment for as long as he could.
So that’s what he did. After Shjon Podein won the Stanley Cup, he stayed in his sweaty pads and jersey and skates for a full twenty-five hours after the game. He at- tended the postgame party in his pads and even danced on the dance floor in his skates. Note: This is not an NHL tradition.
Podein’s son’s practice session comes to a close under a barrage of whistles in the suburban Minneapolis hockey rink. Shjon helps his son get out of his pads, but then has to head to another anonymous ice rink with his teenage daughter for her hockey practice. More than likely, no one will ask him about his scars and the stories behind them. But that’s okay with Podein. He knows he earned them the hard way, with honor and pride, and did it all for the team. He’s just happy to be here in one piece, able to take his kids to practice and watch them play the game he loves. As a gesture for taking the time to talk, I give Podein a six-pack of some local craft beer. His eyes light up, the scar tissue widens, and a chipped tooth is ex- posed, two small markings from his past life.
“I will give these six soldiers a good home in my belly,” Podein says. When he opens the lobby doors, the summer sun greets his face while the frigid ice-rink air bids him farewell. He lets fly another giant smile, because life is good for the Mayor of Muckerville.
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