We’ve seen these stories all play out before, haven’t we?
The buzzer-beater to win a title.
The clutch stop on fourth down.
A miraculous playoff run orchestrated by a crew of scrappy underdogs.
The years pass, rosters change, and sports evolve. And yet, these same narratives endure — played out in front of us through a movie screen, TV set or, if you’re lucky, on an actual diamond, court, field or sheet of ice.
But why hasn’t fatigue for such stories managed to set in yet, given the numerous others twists and turns that sports can take you through over the course of a lifetime, or a season or, a playoff series — or even a single inning, at-bat or shift.
It’s because these tried-and-true tales highlight the best in all of us — and appeal to the emotional core of why we invest so much of our time, minds and hearts into a couple of games.
They give us something — a team, a city, a coach, a player, a hero — to root for.
But with so many glorious championship runs, heart-racing rallies and on-ice triumphs to choose from, why does Oct. 20, 1995 — an evening cloaked in so much despair — still resonate with so many of us?
It was because Travis Roy was a hero worth rooting for.
Roy, who spent the previous 25 years serving as a beacon of inspiration and perseverance, passed away on Thursday from complications due to paralysis — a fate doled out to him on that October evening more than a quarter-century ago. He was just 45 years old.
Even before the events of that day transpired, Roy already had the makings of a local hero — a native New England son determined to make a name for himself out on the ice. The product of North Yarmouth, Maine, first began skating at just 2 years old, and rarely left the sheet for the next 18 years. His dreams, like many kids who fell in love with the game of hockey, were easy to map out — play in the NCAA, play in the Olympics and play in the NHL.
Like many goals set out before him, Roy knocked down the first of those three pillars in 1995 — joining the defending NCAA champion Boston University Terriers as a 20-year-old freshman.
But, in a cruel twist of fate, his NCAA career, his hockey career — and life as he knew it — came to a tragic halt in his first-ever game with BU.
https://twitter.com/E60/status/1318698963411795969
On Oct. 20, 1995, just 11 seconds into his first shift, Roy suffered a major spinal cord injury after crashing into the boards at Walter Brown Arena — paralyzing him from the neck down.
As he was stretchered off, knowing full well that life as he previously knew it was gone, Roy was comforted by his father, Lee, who made it out on the ice in front of a silenced and solemn crowd of spectators.
"He said something and I knelt down and said what's up," Lee Roy recalled in an interview with ESPN. "He said, 'I can't feel anything and my neck hurts.' And then he said, 'But Dad, I made it.'"
Travis Roy would never play the game of hockey ever again. It was a cruel hand that fate dealt him, one that would leave most individuals mired in rage and self-pity for the foreseeable future. But Roy was unlike most individuals — and this would only mark the end of one chapter in his extraordinary tale.
The concept of heroes, especially those who exist in the wide world of sports, can be quite subjective. For many of us growing up, heroes are often defined by either feats performed on the field, or the lofty (and oftentimes unrealistic) expectations we placed upon them.
Why did yours truly love Ken Griffey Jr. growing up? Mostly because I got to see him launch a couple of baseballs into orbit back in 1999. Me, a Michael Jordan fan? Frankly, I could've cared less about Craig Ehlo or Bryon Russell, I was enamored with how he carved up the MonStars in the second half. (I was born in 1993, cut me some slack).
And yet, what Roy accomplished took more heart than anything that could measured on a box score or stat sheet.
Rather than let his legacy be defined by Oct. 20, 1995, Roy sought purpose by helping others. A year after suffering his grievous injuries, Roy was back on campus at Boston University. That same year, while resuming classes at school (he eventually graduated in May 2000 with a degree in communications), he started the Travis Roy Foundation — designed to help fund research for spinal cord injuries and purchase much-needed equipment for those in need.
The foundation website’s mission statement reads. “It is the wish of every paralyzed person that one day their wheelchair will no longer be needed. ... For researchers and scientists, the most important question is basic: How can an injured spinal cord regenerate and reconnect the ‘wires’ from the brain to the muscles and nerves throughout the body? Researchers are working tirelessly on many different fronts to solve challenges related to paralysis, but the research is expensive and a cure is likely still years away. The more money we raise, the sooner a cure will be found.”
All of the energy and enthusiasm Roy harnessed during his days out on the ice were channeled into his foundation and his crusade towards the betterment of others. He delivered thousands of speeches to schools, foundations and other groups over the years, inspiring millions with his own story — one that, while wrought with sorrow, was defined by hope and fortitude.
He led numerous fundraising efforts over the years, with the Travis Roy Foundation awarding more than $4.7 million in research grants, along with additional grants to those suffering from spinal cord injuries. In recognition of his tireless efforts, Roy signed a one-day contract with the Boston Bruins back in 2015 — right around the 20th anniversary of a day that would decimate the spirit of many others.
Roy's crusade to make the most of the circumstances unfairly handed to him continued on through 2020, with a life broken down, rebuilt and then spent in the service of others tragically coming to an end.
But Roy's story doesn't end here.
Travis Roy is no longer with us. But his legacy remains.
His foundation endures, fixated on doing its part to carve out a future in which Roy's fate will not be experienced by future generations.
His "No. 24" jersey is forever immortalized with the Terriers. A banner bearing his name and number is strung high up in the rafters at Agganis Arena — in recognition of not just the hockey star, but of the advocate and inspiring pioneer he later became.
Like many others, my first introduction to Roy's story was brought on by sitting in on a Terriers game at Wally B way back when — my eyes scanning the action playing out on the ice before fixating on that solitary "24". What followed was a retelling of a story unlike those cliched tales we've all become accustomed to, but one still anchored by the spirit of an individual who accomplished more than any hero could have ever accomplished out on the ice.
The years pass, rosters change, and sports evolve. And as future generations return to Agganis Arena and spot that "24" hanging high above the ice, the story of Roy will continue to live on and etch itself into legend.
In a perfect narrative, Travis Roy would have gone on to become a great hockey player with the Terriers.
Instead, he became something that meant a hell of a lot more.
To donate to the Travis Roy Foundation, click here.