Remembering Chris Snow: A man of resilience, courage and fight

CALGARY – They came from around the hockey world to say goodbye to a dreamer – a man who carved a path where there wasn’t one.

A promising young baseball writer for the Boston Globe who somehow managed to chase a career in the NHL’s upper management, why wouldn’t he believe he could be the first to beat ALS?

That was Flames assistant GM Chris Snow, the eternal optimist, a man of legendary resilience, courage and fight. 

All of it was detailed in stirring, measured eulogies at St. Michael Catholic Community Thursday afternoon, where local hockey luminaries like Jarome Iginla, Lanny McDonald, Brad Treliving, Brian Burke and Doug Risebrough and more than 1,000 others helped wrap the hockey community’s arms around the young family Snow left behind when he died Sept. 30 at age 42.

And as much as the crowd did to help wife Kelsie, daughter Willa and son Cohen get through a day they’d feared for years, it was the words of a 12-year-old that resonated most.

“He was my best friend,” was all Cohen offered up, before exiting the stage for Kelsie’s eloquent goodbye.

Despite emotional, beautifully crafted offerings from one of Snow’s college pals, Snow’s sister and former Flames GM Brad Treliving, it was Cohen’s powerful words that had many of the Flames players in attendance dabbing their eyes.

Nothing meant more to the man they call Snowy than family, making Cohen’s words the ultimate testament to the dad he was.

Treliving spoke of Snow’s character by citing the weekend of the 2019 draft in Vancouver where Snow first saw colleagues after informing them that he was given the same ALS diagnosis his father, two uncles and a cousin had died from.

“In typical Chris fashion, after getting this death sentence, and I saw this time and time again, he was there comforting us, making us feel better, saying, ‘it’s going to be okay,’” said Treliving, who marvelled at how hard Snow then worked the rest of the weekend.

 “It was at that time I saw Chris immediately not waste a free moment with his family. He said he wanted to drive back to Calgary instead of flying. He said, ‘Brad, I’m going to take every moment I can to enjoy every moment I can.

“He taught us the difference between being alive and living.”

 As Kelsie has long detailed in her brilliant writings, detailing their journey, Snow never took a day for granted, soaking in simple things like sunsets and sunlight on his face.

Remaining composed as she has throughout their very public fight, Kelsie said the day a doctor told him he had six to 12 months to live, Chris’s first question was, “What do I do now?”

His answer, “Do what brings you joy.”

“For the next four-and-a-half years that’s exactly what Chris did,” she smiled.

“He coached and watched and cheered Cohen and Willa in sports, he took us on adventures, both epic and simple.

“He revelled in the ordinary and he rested in the great comfort of knowing his bucket list contained one thing – spending every moment he could with people he loved.”

The second question he asked was to Kelsie: “Will you tell our story?”

She has, and she will continue to do so by honouring him and the tremendous grace in which he faced the inevitable, then went even further by donating his organs to save four lives.

Sitting in front of the Flames players, who had been bussed in after their practice, were Cohen’s U13 AA North Stars teammates, wearing team jerseys.

Scattered throughout the venue were scouts, media types, friends, family members, agents, the mayor and enough Flames alumni to host a pond hockey tourney – the type Snow would have loved, even with the modified glove he had made to keep his ailing right hand on his stick.

The way he saw it, every setback was a challenge he focused on overcoming.

Never did anyone hear him complain.

Treliving joked about how Snow taught him foreign concepts like “expected goals” through the analytics lens he brought to the organization a decade ago. 

His data-based approach caused more than a few passionate exchanges with now-GM Craig Conroy.

“They would go at each other, and it would usually end with Craig going, ‘you know what Chris - that's great what your numbers say but you just didn’t play the game and you just don’t know,’” said Treliving, who flew in from Toronto where he is now GM of the Leafs.

“Chris would then look at Craig and say, ‘the problem is, you played the game and you still don’t know.’”

Cue much-needed laughter, as part of Snow’s charm had long been a personality and wit few could resist.

He raised the profile of ALS and in doing so raised hundreds of thousands of dollars so that clinical trials like the one that prolonged his life can continue to help others afflicted by this fatal, motor neuron disease that shuts down different parts of the body like it did to his father six months before Snow’s diagnosis.

“The last line of Chris’s eulogy for our dad seemed perfect for all of us too,” recalled his sister, Colleen.

“He wrote: My dad may be here but he is not in there, he is out there, being anything, anywhere at any time. Know that he is okay, and because of it we will be, and you will be.

“If Chris were here, he would be assuring us once again that we will be okay. So we must carry on with the strength and resiliency Chris did every single day.

“Find joy in the little things, hug the people you love tightly, tell them you love them every chance you get and always show up when they need it most.”