Former Oilers Star Opens Up About Addiction and Depression That He Hasn't Spoke About Publicly
Former Edmonton Oilers star Ales Hemsky had a very good NHL career after being drafted 13th overall by the Oilers back in the 2001 NHL Draft.
The 39 year-old retired from NHL back in 2020 and has decided to open up about a concerning topic of late and that's addiction in the NHL.
"It's morning skate and I thought I'd much rather not go; just rest instead. I should have said I wanted to take the morning off; that I'd be there for the game. It's quite common nowadays and like I said, everything felt off.The hockey stick in my hand suddenly felt alien. My skates felt as if they were not properly sharpened. Every hockey player has experienced this sensation � you don't feel comfortable in your own gear without any objective reason. It's just a hunch. But this hunch can become a problem in the back of your head. Especially for me. I've always been a gear freak.I frustrated the Edmonton Oilers equipment managers. I needed my skates sharpened differently, based on that specific arena's ice. I'd customize my skates and try out different fits. I'd send about 70 adjustments to the hockey-stick manufacturer and yet still before the game, I'd file the blade or shorten it at the top, simply because I felt it wasn't right.That's why it's sometimes better to skip the warm-up and come straight to the game. You avoid distracting thoughts about sharpening your skates or preparing three new hockey juststicks.Or four.Or two.This was on my mind all day. I was not in the right mindset to play.And then we lost game 7 of the Stanley Cup Final against Carolina that day.But I was young. So much had happened during that year and a half in my career that I didn't care that much. I was 22 years old and everything had happened so fast. I had a fresh Czech title with Pardubice during the NHL lockout season. I had a gold medal from the World Championship with the Czech national team where I had the opportunity to play with the guys from the so-called «Golden generation.» And in the middle of the season � which for me ended with the latest possible Stanley Cup game � I had a bronze medal on my neck from the Olympics.I thought that we'd win the Cup with the Oilers some other time. Never mind, let's move on. I was tired from that intense period but I thought it would go on like this for my entire career. I felt untouchable; I could do whatever I wanted.It wasn't like that.Early in the summer of 2006, as a world champion, Olympic medallist and Stanley Cup finalist, I didn't realize that it was probably going to go downhill from there. There isn't much more a player can achieve in the hockey world.I didn't realize that apart from the successful playoff with Pardubice, where the coaches let us play our own way, I didn't contribute that much to the other teams with which I had success. I was too young to add anything apart from a few goals and assists; to make a difference.I was maturing more and more with each year and in my eyes, I was improving, but it didn't lead to any success. The season after the finals we didn't even make the playoffs with Edmonton.Okay, shit happens, I thought. But we didn't make it in the next season either. Even in the third one. Suddenly, nine years had passed and my last NHL playoff game was still a Game 7 loss to Carolina.
I didn't give the situation much thought. In one of the games back in Edmonton, I got hit by a loose puck on the bench. Somewhere between the temple and the ear.It hurt but I finished that game.But during our flight home, I began to feel as if I was sailing on a ship in rough seas. I felt sick as if I were to puke. My eyes were darting back and forth and I was losing my balance. I almost didn't make it to the stadium in the morning. I didn't think it was a good idea to sit behind a wheel and drive a car while the whole world around me was spinning, but somehow, I managed and once I got to the dressing room I rushed to the doctor.By then, I already had some experience with concussions. Getting ambushed on the ice was nothing exceptional in the NHL at that time. Even though it was annoying, I could at least recognize the symptoms and knew when to take a break and skip a game. But this was different.This was really weird.
The old Edmonton arena had nothing around it. The hotel in which I was staying stood right in front of it so you just had to cross the parking lot.I spent the days in my room, getting VHS tapes downstairs at the front desk. My food was all crap.I was 19 years old, I had just signed a contract with the Oilers and I thought this was what my life in the NHL would be like. Shortly after, however, general manager Kevin Lowe called me and said they wanted me to live with the owner of the club.At first, I didn't want to do it. I felt like it was just because they wanted to keep an eye on me because I was young and wild, but I agreed to at least go check it out.What I saw amazed me. The house was a regular castle. It even had a little tower.There was a pool in the basement, a jacuzzi, a bar, fridges full of drinks and food. We were greeted by an assistant and Bruce Saville himself, a philanthropist and a former owner of the Oilers, welcomed me into his office where he had memorabilia from Wayne Gretzky on display. He gave me a tour of the house.«This floor would be yours,» he told me.And so I said yes. I was a little worried about all the luxury, but then again, who wouldn't want to try it? I figured I'd give it a try and it was one of the best decisions in my life. Bruce became like a second dad to me. He did absolutely everything for me. I could ask for anything I wanted. I didn't pay rent or food. I felt at home and my only concern was playing hockey. If not for that, I'm sure I would never have become the player I was. I would have struggled alone in the group of older players, trying to fit in. But Bruce created an environment for me that felt like home.Just like when I was a kid. All I did was focus on hockey. I was lucky.At the same time, I never felt any pressure from Bruce to behave a certain way or repay his generosity on the ice. He has a good heart. He saw a shy European boy and tried to help him feel comfortable on his team.More than anything, Bruce was a fan. All he cared about was how the game went. Whenever we talked, it was always about every-day things. He even tolerated my occasional parties. If it was too much, his assistant would throw us out, but it was all good. Even that one time we woke him up with noise from the garden and he got out, sleepy and in his bathrobe, and thought that the guy riding the bison statue was his son who lived somewhere else.«Kennedy, what are you doing?» he said as he squinted into the darkness.
«Bruce, it's alright, it's one of ours.»
«Oh, alright. Have fun then, boys»When the NHL banned owners from housing their own players due to violations of the salary cap, Bruce still asked me if I wanted to stay at his place; that we would figure something out. I thanked him, but I knew that I needed to start taking care of myself so I could grow as a person as well.It should be no surprise that I never wanted to leave Edmonton.The club was a family. Bruce, general manager Kevin Lowe and coach Craig MacTavish raised me. Literally raised me. They were handed a boy with maybe some hockey skills who was scared of everything around him and they protected me. I'm not sure if there ever was someone as lucky as me in such a position at the start of their career.I'll never forget how Kevin, who won six Stanley Cups as a player, called me into his room before my first playoff. We sat down and talked for an hour about what was to come so I'd be ready. It was as if he was talking to his son. He didn't try to force something on me; to tell me that they expected goals from me when they drafted me in the first round. He told me because he cared about me playing my best game. He cared about me feeling good.I know that's how he worked with everyone on the club. He was a good leader.When you read the news about how bad things were with the Oilers, you thought, 'Those people have no idea what it's really like.'I should have left anyway. Five years before I left. I should have done it like Ryan Smyth, who just decided to go and left. I could have. The options were there, but I told myself I couldn't do this to them. I was grateful to all of them for helping me in the beginning and making me happy. It was my first club. I didn't know anything else.To be such a good guy in the NHL is not a good thing. Not when you're playing a lot of games which don't really matter and you know that you need something else.
Team doctors had no other explanation than that it was another concussion. They tried and tried but couldn't figure out any other explanation for why my whole world was spinning. We were flying to New York where our doctor knew a specialist. I travelled with the team and paid him a visit.Just one examination was enough for him to know what was wrong. I laid down, tilted my head backwards and just as my eyes started spinning, he knew.Vertigo.It was indirectly connected to my concussions because the constant hits had affected a centre in my head which coordinated the sensations of sight, hearing and touch. To this day, whenever I'm sitting on a plane with headphones on, I feel weird. As soon as I turn off one of the senses, the rest don't work together and I get sick.Back then, I rested for some time and once the acute problems disappeared, I played again. But I never managed to shed this strange feeling. It was as if it was still back there somewhere in my head like I was still one blow away from being in huge trouble.In the end, trouble found me.
I've been like this since I was a child. Wherever they put me, I would play quietly with no complaints or worries. My brother is just a year and a half older and he always brought me along with his friends. I grew up among older guys which made me feel like I was somewhere safe because those guys always took care of me. I had my path where no one could hurt me. They were protecting me. Protecting little Hemy.It was like that until I turned 16 and showed up for the A-team.Suddenly, in the dressing room, I was afraid to even say a word. One reason was that my dad was the assistant coach and I didn't want to give anyone a chance to say that I earned my spot unfairly. But mainly because back then young players were expected to be nice, greet everyone and then sit down and wait for the older guys to tell them what to do.I felt that I had to act this way and show no initiative.Guys like me were common in professional Czech hockey at that time and I'm sure this is the exact reason why they got stuck in one place. Simply because they were afraid. If you, as a coach, could choose players from a pool of 50, someone always stood out, but the rest simply didn't make it because no one helped them. Even though there were good players, they simply didn't get the chance to mature mentally. No one invested their time in them.From a hockey perspective, it was an incredible experience. I watched at practice what all the older guys could do. I'll never forget Tomá� Bla�ek passing underneath his opponent's stick. He always waited for the right moment and passed the puck perfectly. You can bet I was trying to do the same.However, I'm pretty sure I could have learned that by watching it on TV or from the stands. If you like something, just by watching it you can learn a lot. I'm sure my hockey growth would have progressed the same even if I hadn't made the A-team back then.The issue was that I and many more needed mental help. We needed someone from the older generation to accept us; to ask how we were doing and to give us some simple advice so we could feel like part of the team. A few words would have been enough just to join them. «Don't just sit there, come join us.» Little gestures that would help our self-confidence.But that's not how things worked back then in Czech hockey. I'm not saying the players were bad or mean. That's simply how it was. Show you can make it or bye-bye. It's up to you, kid.How different it was in Edmonton!But I was hesitant there at first. Everything was fine at the rink. I could be myself, but everything around it annoyed me.Even before the first playoff game as a junior in Hull, when he handed out some papers and I didn't understand them, the coach yelled at me about what kind of idiot I was that I still didn't know the language after one year. All I could say was, «sorry» and it almost made me cry. I felt stupid, it was embarrassing, and I thought to myself that maybe I was that dumb. Even an experience like that marked me and added a piece to the mosaic that caused me to be afraid of speaking up.A great example of this was interviews in English. I was terrified of them. I focused so hard on not making a mistake. I didn't want to look like an idiot so I didn't say anything at all.Thanks to my therapist, I recently found out I'm dyslexic. I had no idea when I was a kid, but at least now I know why I had all the problems. I struggled in school. Whatever I read I couldn't remember. Back then, no one really cared. I was simply not very bright. Fortunately, my parents were amazing and didn't push me to do something unnatural to me. They let me focus on hockey. I finished elementary school and didn't even pursue further education.I see that it could have backfired. As a father myself today, I realize what a risk it was for my parents. But I'm looking at it from the angle that they knew what made me happy. So what? I eventually learned English in Canada and travelled throughout the world thanks to hockey. The lack of education didn't limit me. My nature did. I was a small vulnerable kid tossed into an environment that didn't go easy on me.It didn't concern me until I learned in Edmonton that there are other ways to do things.Even in my junior year in Hull, I didn't play at first. They were testing me and I had no idea what was going on because I was the only Czech there. There were no mobile phones, just telephone cards with $5 which usually ran out of money in the middle of the call and that was it. That was my only connection to home. It wasn't until my dad flew over about a month later and stayed with me for a while that things started to improve and I started playing more and better. But I was still kind of an outsider to my teammates.All I needed was my one small suitcase of clothes. I kept changing three shirts and two pairs of pants. I never cared about clothes, but others thought I had no money and started to bring me their own stuff so I could wear something else. I tried to explain that I could buy something, but I didn't need it.I felt like a beggar, but they meant well.It was because of these beginnings � and how different it was in Edmonton � that I later focused on helping younger players and made sure no one had to go through the same troubles that I had experienced. Luckily, there were more of us. The environment that Kevin, Craig, and Bruce built with their co-workers was set up so it helped the most vulnerable ones.We tried to take the young ones into our group. As soon as we saw one of them struggling, we took him out for dinner. We involved him. Not everyone of course. If someone didn't care then you might have advised him once or twice and watched his reaction. If he didn't want to be helped then we let him handle it himself. But guys like that didn't last long.It was interesting to watch boys who reminded me so much of myself when I was 18. Take Ryan Nugent-Hopkins for example. He was such a nice and quiet boy that it was actually bad for him. We needed to show him he belonged with us to make him feel better so he could play his best.It's entirely different with us Czechs. More experienced players who came to the Oilers were a huge help, especially Radek Dvořák. From the moment he appeared in the dressing room, he did exactly what I needed from him. The man didn't know what a bad day was. Even if World War III was raging outside, he would come with a smile on his face and an attitude that all was going to be well. And then Jaroslav �paček joined us after the trade deadline. We were going out for beers together and I could go to their homes where they cared for me like their own son. They became my safety net in an environment in which I had no parents or friends close by to show me the things I didn't know yet. They supported me so much that I could go to them whenever, whether to talk about a bad game or just life.Later, when I accommodated young Radek Faksa in my home in Dallas, I was only repaying what I had learned from my young days; what I learned in Edmonton and what helped me grow as a person
I didn't give the situation much thought. In one of the games back in Edmonton, I got hit by a loose puck on the bench. Somewhere between the temple and the ear.It hurt but I finished that game.But during our flight home, I began to feel as if I was sailing on a ship in rough seas. I felt sick as if I were to puke. My eyes were darting back and forth and I was losing my balance. I almost didn't make it to the stadium in the morning. I didn't think it was a good idea to sit behind a wheel and drive a car while the whole world around me was spinning, but somehow, I managed and once I got to the dressing room I rushed to the doctor.By then, I already had some experience with concussions. Getting ambushed on the ice was nothing exceptional in the NHL at that time. Even though it was annoying, I could at least recognize the symptoms and knew when to take a break and skip a game. But this was different.This was really weird.
The old Edmonton arena had nothing around it. The hotel in which I was staying stood right in front of it so you just had to cross the parking lot.I spent the days in my room, getting VHS tapes downstairs at the front desk. My food was all crap.I was 19 years old, I had just signed a contract with the Oilers and I thought this was what my life in the NHL would be like. Shortly after, however, general manager Kevin Lowe called me and said they wanted me to live with the owner of the club.At first, I didn't want to do it. I felt like it was just because they wanted to keep an eye on me because I was young and wild, but I agreed to at least go check it out.What I saw amazed me. The house was a regular castle. It even had a little tower.There was a pool in the basement, a jacuzzi, a bar, fridges full of drinks and food. We were greeted by an assistant and Bruce Saville himself, a philanthropist and a former owner of the Oilers, welcomed me into his office where he had memorabilia from Wayne Gretzky on display. He gave me a tour of the house.«This floor would be yours,» he told me.And so I said yes. I was a little worried about all the luxury, but then again, who wouldn't want to try it? I figured I'd give it a try and it was one of the best decisions in my life. Bruce became like a second dad to me. He did absolutely everything for me. I could ask for anything I wanted. I didn't pay rent or food. I felt at home and my only concern was playing hockey. If not for that, I'm sure I would never have become the player I was. I would have struggled alone in the group of older players, trying to fit in. But Bruce created an environment for me that felt like home.Just like when I was a kid. All I did was focus on hockey. I was lucky.At the same time, I never felt any pressure from Bruce to behave a certain way or repay his generosity on the ice. He has a good heart. He saw a shy European boy and tried to help him feel comfortable on his team.More than anything, Bruce was a fan. All he cared about was how the game went. Whenever we talked, it was always about every-day things. He even tolerated my occasional parties. If it was too much, his assistant would throw us out, but it was all good. Even that one time we woke him up with noise from the garden and he got out, sleepy and in his bathrobe, and thought that the guy riding the bison statue was his son who lived somewhere else.«Kennedy, what are you doing?» he said as he squinted into the darkness.
«Bruce, it's alright, it's one of ours.»
«Oh, alright. Have fun then, boys»When the NHL banned owners from housing their own players due to violations of the salary cap, Bruce still asked me if I wanted to stay at his place; that we would figure something out. I thanked him, but I knew that I needed to start taking care of myself so I could grow as a person as well.It should be no surprise that I never wanted to leave Edmonton.The club was a family. Bruce, general manager Kevin Lowe and coach Craig MacTavish raised me. Literally raised me. They were handed a boy with maybe some hockey skills who was scared of everything around him and they protected me. I'm not sure if there ever was someone as lucky as me in such a position at the start of their career.I'll never forget how Kevin, who won six Stanley Cups as a player, called me into his room before my first playoff. We sat down and talked for an hour about what was to come so I'd be ready. It was as if he was talking to his son. He didn't try to force something on me; to tell me that they expected goals from me when they drafted me in the first round. He told me because he cared about me playing my best game. He cared about me feeling good.I know that's how he worked with everyone on the club. He was a good leader.When you read the news about how bad things were with the Oilers, you thought, 'Those people have no idea what it's really like.'I should have left anyway. Five years before I left. I should have done it like Ryan Smyth, who just decided to go and left. I could have. The options were there, but I told myself I couldn't do this to them. I was grateful to all of them for helping me in the beginning and making me happy. It was my first club. I didn't know anything else.To be such a good guy in the NHL is not a good thing. Not when you're playing a lot of games which don't really matter and you know that you need something else.
Team doctors had no other explanation than that it was another concussion. They tried and tried but couldn't figure out any other explanation for why my whole world was spinning. We were flying to New York where our doctor knew a specialist. I travelled with the team and paid him a visit.Just one examination was enough for him to know what was wrong. I laid down, tilted my head backwards and just as my eyes started spinning, he knew.Vertigo.It was indirectly connected to my concussions because the constant hits had affected a centre in my head which coordinated the sensations of sight, hearing and touch. To this day, whenever I'm sitting on a plane with headphones on, I feel weird. As soon as I turn off one of the senses, the rest don't work together and I get sick.Back then, I rested for some time and once the acute problems disappeared, I played again. But I never managed to shed this strange feeling. It was as if it was still back there somewhere in my head like I was still one blow away from being in huge trouble.In the end, trouble found me.
I've been like this since I was a child. Wherever they put me, I would play quietly with no complaints or worries. My brother is just a year and a half older and he always brought me along with his friends. I grew up among older guys which made me feel like I was somewhere safe because those guys always took care of me. I had my path where no one could hurt me. They were protecting me. Protecting little Hemy.It was like that until I turned 16 and showed up for the A-team.Suddenly, in the dressing room, I was afraid to even say a word. One reason was that my dad was the assistant coach and I didn't want to give anyone a chance to say that I earned my spot unfairly. But mainly because back then young players were expected to be nice, greet everyone and then sit down and wait for the older guys to tell them what to do.I felt that I had to act this way and show no initiative.Guys like me were common in professional Czech hockey at that time and I'm sure this is the exact reason why they got stuck in one place. Simply because they were afraid. If you, as a coach, could choose players from a pool of 50, someone always stood out, but the rest simply didn't make it because no one helped them. Even though there were good players, they simply didn't get the chance to mature mentally. No one invested their time in them.From a hockey perspective, it was an incredible experience. I watched at practice what all the older guys could do. I'll never forget Tomá� Bla�ek passing underneath his opponent's stick. He always waited for the right moment and passed the puck perfectly. You can bet I was trying to do the same.However, I'm pretty sure I could have learned that by watching it on TV or from the stands. If you like something, just by watching it you can learn a lot. I'm sure my hockey growth would have progressed the same even if I hadn't made the A-team back then.The issue was that I and many more needed mental help. We needed someone from the older generation to accept us; to ask how we were doing and to give us some simple advice so we could feel like part of the team. A few words would have been enough just to join them. «Don't just sit there, come join us.» Little gestures that would help our self-confidence.But that's not how things worked back then in Czech hockey. I'm not saying the players were bad or mean. That's simply how it was. Show you can make it or bye-bye. It's up to you, kid.How different it was in Edmonton!But I was hesitant there at first. Everything was fine at the rink. I could be myself, but everything around it annoyed me.Even before the first playoff game as a junior in Hull, when he handed out some papers and I didn't understand them, the coach yelled at me about what kind of idiot I was that I still didn't know the language after one year. All I could say was, «sorry» and it almost made me cry. I felt stupid, it was embarrassing, and I thought to myself that maybe I was that dumb. Even an experience like that marked me and added a piece to the mosaic that caused me to be afraid of speaking up.A great example of this was interviews in English. I was terrified of them. I focused so hard on not making a mistake. I didn't want to look like an idiot so I didn't say anything at all.Thanks to my therapist, I recently found out I'm dyslexic. I had no idea when I was a kid, but at least now I know why I had all the problems. I struggled in school. Whatever I read I couldn't remember. Back then, no one really cared. I was simply not very bright. Fortunately, my parents were amazing and didn't push me to do something unnatural to me. They let me focus on hockey. I finished elementary school and didn't even pursue further education.I see that it could have backfired. As a father myself today, I realize what a risk it was for my parents. But I'm looking at it from the angle that they knew what made me happy. So what? I eventually learned English in Canada and travelled throughout the world thanks to hockey. The lack of education didn't limit me. My nature did. I was a small vulnerable kid tossed into an environment that didn't go easy on me.It didn't concern me until I learned in Edmonton that there are other ways to do things.Even in my junior year in Hull, I didn't play at first. They were testing me and I had no idea what was going on because I was the only Czech there. There were no mobile phones, just telephone cards with $5 which usually ran out of money in the middle of the call and that was it. That was my only connection to home. It wasn't until my dad flew over about a month later and stayed with me for a while that things started to improve and I started playing more and better. But I was still kind of an outsider to my teammates.All I needed was my one small suitcase of clothes. I kept changing three shirts and two pairs of pants. I never cared about clothes, but others thought I had no money and started to bring me their own stuff so I could wear something else. I tried to explain that I could buy something, but I didn't need it.I felt like a beggar, but they meant well.It was because of these beginnings � and how different it was in Edmonton � that I later focused on helping younger players and made sure no one had to go through the same troubles that I had experienced. Luckily, there were more of us. The environment that Kevin, Craig, and Bruce built with their co-workers was set up so it helped the most vulnerable ones.We tried to take the young ones into our group. As soon as we saw one of them struggling, we took him out for dinner. We involved him. Not everyone of course. If someone didn't care then you might have advised him once or twice and watched his reaction. If he didn't want to be helped then we let him handle it himself. But guys like that didn't last long.It was interesting to watch boys who reminded me so much of myself when I was 18. Take Ryan Nugent-Hopkins for example. He was such a nice and quiet boy that it was actually bad for him. We needed to show him he belonged with us to make him feel better so he could play his best.It's entirely different with us Czechs. More experienced players who came to the Oilers were a huge help, especially Radek Dvořák. From the moment he appeared in the dressing room, he did exactly what I needed from him. The man didn't know what a bad day was. Even if World War III was raging outside, he would come with a smile on his face and an attitude that all was going to be well. And then Jaroslav �paček joined us after the trade deadline. We were going out for beers together and I could go to their homes where they cared for me like their own son. They became my safety net in an environment in which I had no parents or friends close by to show me the things I didn't know yet. They supported me so much that I could go to them whenever, whether to talk about a bad game or just life.Later, when I accommodated young Radek Faksa in my home in Dallas, I was only repaying what I had learned from my young days; what I learned in Edmonton and what helped me grow as a person
That was very brave by Hemsky to share his story, we forget that hockey players are humans also and can get addicted just as easy as you or myself.
Credit: https://twitter.com/jasongregor/status/1633888050374914
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