Gary Shopek — the Ultimate Walk-On
By John Gilbert
There were a lot of pictures at the Church of St. Bridget in North Minneapolis for the memorial service for Gary Shopek. The most significant was on the cover of the small funeral program, showing an ever-alert Gary Shopek facing the camera wearing his No. 25 University of Minnesota hockey uniform.
Gary Shopek
That picture should serve as inspiration for every young hockey player who spends hours practicing and learning to love the game of hockey, all the while worrying and wondering if he’ll ever get the chance to play at an elite level. Gary Shopek is evidence that dreams can come true.
Back in the 1970s, Minneapolis had a strong high school hockey conference, surpassing St. Paul and even the developing Lake Conference as the premier league in the Twin Cities. Southwest was the first, and only, Minneapolis Conference team to win a state title, and the Indians (in those days) were outstanding every year, but they were challenged every year by Washburn, Roosevelt, West, Patrick Henry, South, and Edison, all of whom rose and fell with the fluctuations of their youth programs.
I remember going to the Minneapolis Auditorium — now the Convention Center — to watch four or five games in a row on Monday nights. Henry’s best teamcame along, led by two players — a big, lanky defenseman named Tom Hirsch, and a wiry and quick centerman named Gary Shopek. Hirsch was recruited to the University of Minnesota by Brad Buetow, while Shopek went off to try to find someplace to play hockey.
Junior hockey was in its infancy in Minnesota back then, with a league-full of “Junior B” teams and the Bloomington Junior Stars who tried to establish Junior A and subsequently the U.S. Hockey League. My older son, Jack, had the skills to move up to the next level, and he made that rag-tag group of Junior Stars. So did Shopek, and others, such as John Brandt from Edison, Mark Loahr from St. Anthony, Mike Brodzinski from Blaine, Scott Conger, who played with Shopek at Henry, Tom Almquist from Benilde, Kyle Kranz from Bloomington, and goaltender Steve Kudebeh from Breck. I had been impressed watching Shopek at Henry, and quickly became more impressed by his versatile skills with the Junior Stars. He was one of those tenacious kids who backchecked ferociously from center, and his great agility made me wonder how he might use his skills as a defenseman..
Anyone who gets into hockey joins a giant fraternity. A family, really, with kinship among teammates that even carries over to opponents. I got to know Gary Shopek as a humble, unassuming young man who weighed under 170 pounds, but it was all muscle. He was quick, highly skilled, and extremely honest, both as a player and a person. His dad had died while he was in school, and his brothers and sister had moved on, while Gary lived at home, with his mom. He slept on the couch, and he had nothing, but never asked for more than that. And he was fiercely proud of going home to North Minneapolis.
“Gary’s birthday and mine were on the same day,” said Brandt, recalling those old Junior Stars days. “We became good friends and drove to and from practice and games together. He dropped me off one day, and I invited him in because we were having a little birthday party for me. He said no, and I figured he probably was having his own party. But he said he wasn’t, but he thought he’d go home and make himself a cake.”
While writing about hockey at every level for the Minneapolis Tribune in those days, I also coached youth baseball and hockey, and I started coaching summer hockey, rising to the Midwest League, a well-organized college-age league where top college players from throughout the Twin Cities convened every summer at Roseville Arena. Coaches drafted players from a week of tryouts, and the teams were well balanced and intensely competitive. I told Shopek to try out, but to not show up after one tryout, then I picked him, eagerly. I also talked Skeeter Moore, who starred at Duluth East and UMD, into driving down from Duluth to play
He was quiet, and maybe lonely, but as with all young hockey players, I figured he’d wind up with a nice girlfriend who would care about him, and everything would fall into place. When I got the chance to see his skills close up from behind the bench in the Roseville league, I stopped over at the University of Minnesota occasionally that summer and urged coach Brad Buetow to come out to the summer league to watch him, just once. Shopek was our quarterback, a free-thinking, free-spirited competitor, whose instincts and spontaneous ability to improvise was unerringly right on, just what any smart coach might wish for. On the bench or in the dressing room, I always enjoyed sharing tidbits with Shopek, just to see his eyes sparkle, accompanied by that faint little grin. I played him at defense, but with complete freedom — and urging — to join the offense. Some coaches allow defensemen to rush; I made it mandatory.
We did well in the league that summer, and in the playoffs, we won, then we won again, to reach the championship game. As we prepared to take the ice for that final game, I spotted Dean Talafous in the stands, and he came down to exchanged pleasantries. On the final day of competition, Buetow had finally sent his assistant to watch Shopek.
It was one of those nights when fate did not smile on our team. We won the opening faceoff, with the puck squirting back to Shopek. Always plotting, he started to retreat, intending to lure an aggressive forechecker toward him so he could make a slick pass, but he stumbled and fell on his backside. The puck popped free, of course, and the forechecker grabbed it and skated in to score on a breakaway about 8 seconds seconds into the game. It didn’t get better. We rallied and made a run, but ultimately got hammered. Shopek, trying too hard to make up for the bad start, played what might have been his worst game ever.
When it was over, I was walking toward the dressing room to thank the players who had made it a special summer, despite the final game, when Talafous came down from the seats. “I see what you mean about Shopek,” he said. “We’ve got to get him.”
I was incredulous. But I concealed my surprise. I walked into the dressing room, and despite the dispirited group awaiting me, I addressed the players, thanking them for a thoroughly enjoyable season despite the final result. Then I singled out Shopek.
“Gary, how do you think you played tonight?” I asked.
“Are you kidding?” he said, “That was the worst game I’ve ever played in my life.”
“You’re right,” I said, “but the Gophers were here scouting you tonight, and based on this game, they want you. Just think how good they’ll think you are when they see the real Gary Shopek!
Everybody in the room got a good laugh out of it, but it wasn’t long before the Gophers did get a chance to see the real Shopek. Giving full credit to Talafous, it was impressive that he saw enough potential in Shopek that night to be impressed.
Brandt, a skilled centerman, recalled talking with Shopek about friends and foes who were heading off for Division I colleges with full scholarships while they were ignored and wondering where they would end up. “We were listening to a Styx song, about waiting for a pot of gold, and Gary asked me, ‘Where’s our pot of gold? How long do we have to wait?’
“One day we were wondering where we might play, and a couple months later I was going to Gopher games and watching Gary play the point on the power play as a freshman,” said Brandt, who had an outstanding Division III career at St. Mary’s.
As a freshman, in the 1983-84 season, Shopek won the Gophers’ Frank Pond rookie of the year award. After Shopek’s sophomore season, and a run to the NCAA tournament, Buetow was relieved of his command, and Doug Woog was hired as coach. It wasn’t always smooth sailing, because Shopek always trusted his instincts on the ice, and Woog was often agitated and frustrated and chirped at his players. A friend recalled teammates recalling the time Woog started in on Shopek, and Gary, cornered but never trapped, said, evenly, “Get a real job, Woog.”
Butters recalled that scene, which happened more than once, and said, “That was the ‘church’ version.”
Shopek’s play never wavered. In his junior year, 1985-86, he won the Mike Crupi award, voted by his teammates as the most determined Gopher, and he won the Crupi award again as a senior, in 1986-87. He was never more than 170 pounds, but he was still lean and quick and incredibly smart and competitive.
Over four years, Shopek played 173 games — a record for the Gophers at that point, before season schedules became expanded. Over four years, he had 24 goals, 93 assists, for 117 points, including 12-31–43 his senior year. That ranked him fifth in team scoring, behind Corey Millen, who led with 36-29–65, Steve MacSwain 31-29–60, Dave Snuggerud 30-29–59, and Todd Richards 8-43–52. Remarkably, Shopek’s 12-31–43 gave him more assists than Millen, MacSwain or Snuggerud.
When I covered the North Stars, and the Fighting Saints, and the Gophers, and the high schools, it was gratifying to get to know a lot of outstanding young players. I knew and liked every player on those Gopher teams, but Shopek was special. It was frustrating that with all the scholarship and partial aid packages being thrown around, Gary Shopek was still living at home, sleeping on his mom’s couch in North Minneapolis. But he was living his dream, and he never asked for more than the chance to be the ultimate walk-on.
“I think Shopek might have been the most-skilled guy I ever played with,” said my son, Jack. “At Junior Stars practice, we’d play keepaway and nobody could get the puck from Shopek. After a while, somebody would tackle him, but he’d still have the puck.”
I lost track of Gary Shopek over the last 30 years. He played a little minor league pro hockey, and he tried it in Europe, but he always came home to Minneapolis. I heard he had a lot of problems in his life. Substance abuse problems, and problems finding a good job, or making enough of a commitment to that girlfriend I had always anticipated he’d find. John Brandt had reconnected with Shopek several times in the last few years, and offered him friendship and guidance, and Bill Butters, who had been assistant coach and ran the defense at Minnesota during Shopek’s last two years, had also tried to help Shopek get beyond his personal demons.
A couple months ago, I heard Gary was seriously ill. He had been stricken with esophageal cancer. Butters contacted some of his old Gopher teammates, who visited him after he entered hospice care. John Brandt was the closest of all.
Shopek died on Easter Sunday, 2014, at age 51. The picture they ran in the Minneapolis Star Tribune obituary column showed him in his Gopher uniform, taken during the time he always said were the best years of his life. That familiar picture, wearing No. 25 with the big “M” on his chest, was the only identification Shopek needed.
It’s going to take a while to get over this one. If I had known about his situation, I would have dropped everything to help those who rallied to his side. Gary had the help of friends and relatives to straighten out his life, and I believe he really wanted to, even while those demons seemed to have the upper hand. He still had time to win that battle, and I’ll remain an optimist that he could have — if it hadn’t been for the cancer.
Butters, and a few close friends, spoke at Gary Shopek’s funeral. His sister, Laurie Modeen, and brothers Tim and Ralph were there, close friend Steve Michaud, and other friends, relatives and North Minneapolis neighbors. Former Gophers attending were Jason Miller, Steve Orth, Craig Mack, Corey Millen, Tom Chorske, Mike Guentzel, and of course Butters, who now works for Hockey Ministries and aids former players from all levels.
Former Gopher Todd Richards sent a nice note that he regretted not being able to attend, but remembered “No. 25” as his defense partner with the Gophers, and how he was the perfect partner because he was always dedicated and ready to go all-out. Richards couldn’t be there, because later Saturday night I watched him on satellite television, behind the Columbus Blue Jackets bench, coaching against the Pittsburgh Penguins in the NHL playoffs.
Brad Buetow also sent a nice message, although it would have been nicer had Brad not recalled how he and his staff had watched Shopek so closely all through high school that they were “unanimous” about recruiting him. I got a chuckle out of Buetow’s revisionist history, and I know Gary would have, too.
Shopek was special enough that the people who conducted a fund-raiser in his behalf are using the money to seed a scholarship fund, in his name, which would go to help a young Gopher prospect who makes the Gopher varsity as a walk-on. I know Gary would be proud of that, and if you concentrate hard enough, you can see it in the twinkle in his eyes, and that sly little grin that always signified that he got the message.
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About the Author
John Gilbert is a lifetime Minnesotan and career journalist, specializing in cars and sports during and since spending 30 years at the Minneapolis Tribune, now the Star Tribune. More recently, he has continued translating the high-tech world of autos and sharing his passionate insights as a freelance writer/photographer/broadcaster. A member of the prestigious North American Car and Truck of the Year jury since 1993. John can be heard Monday-Friday from 9-11am on 610 KDAL(www.kdal610.com) on the "John Gilbert Show," and writes a column in the Duluth Reader.
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