Stick tap to Moose Richards. Almost 25 years ago Bemidji High School classmates lost a good friend, an awesome teammate, a great guy. George was three sport Letterman in Hockey, Football and Baseball, he was very good at all three sports, probably could have played division one in all of them. I had the pleasure of playing football with Big George in 1985 at Bemidji High School, when our football team won the conference title. Tom Cochrane and Red Rider from the album Victory Day dedicated the song
the Big Leagues to George.
Summer of 1986: I was stationed in Stuttgart Germany and I remember getting a letter from an old friend Sean Sace who informed me that Big George had been killed in a car accident. My father sent me the Hockey News magazine in the mail that covered George's funeral. George's funeral made the front page of the hockey news. It was a tragic ending to young life. [
Link to a tribute to big George]
Since they’ve been asked to pose at their son’s gravesite, they pose.
Four pucks neatly lined up on the headstone don’t surprise the parents. Happens all the time. They cannot explain how pucks get there. They just appear.
“Kids. Friends,” says Winnie, shrugging.
Restless, the Pelawas pick at the sap on the headstone. The camera clicks.
George Dale Pelawa, six foot three and 245 pounds, had been approaching Paul Bunyan’s dimensions, literally and figuratively. The broad-shouldered teen was threatening the mythical lumberjack’s poster-boy status in these parts.
But the burgeoning
legend, a three-sport
standout, died in a car crash, Aug. 30, 1986.
“Many think of the wasted career, but he’s been our shining star for years,” Lyman Brink, assistant coach at Bemidji High School, said a week after the accident. “We now have to think of his wonderful past.”
First, though, came grief for a future flattened.
Fans in Minnesota mourned — George had been named Mr. Hockey as the best high-school player in the state.
Fans in North Dakota mourned — George had accepted a scholarship to the UND, which was loading up for a national-title run.
Fans in Calgary mourned — George had been selected by the Flames in the first round of the National Hockey League draft.
But there is no mourning like a family’s.
“It was a long time ago, pretty near a quarter-century,” says Frank, wiping his eyes, “but still . . . .”
When a stranger phoned on a spring-day afternoon, the Pelawas had listened patiently to the rambling request.
Boiled down — would they be willing to talk about their dead boy?
They were more than willing, as it turns out, but barely able. The collision that ripped the artery off George’s heart had irreparably crushed theirs.
“It’s like yesterday in many ways,” says Winnie. “If somebody has a disease or something, you’re prepared. But when it’s sudden like that. . . . Your children aren’t supposed to go before you.”
If the topic is so painful, so wrenching, why extend the invitation into their home?
Simple.
Because they want people to remember George, their George.
When Flames prospect Mickey Renaud died suddenly of a heart condition eight months after the 2007 NHL draft, the Pelawa story got retold. Similarities between the barrel-chested forwards — bright futures, sudden ends — were jarring.
But, given the passage of time, many in Calgary had been unaware of the 1986 tragedy.
Frank understands.
“It rolls over so much, you know, one year turns into . . . ” he starts, before succumbing to tears and, for not the only time, leaving the kitchen table to grab a breather in the living room.
Whispers Winnie: “Since the stroke, Frank gets so emotional.”
Which becomes the day’s rhythm — reporter apologizing for the intrusion, parents apologizing for the sorrow.
It makes for frequent pauses, with only the coffee pot’s gurgles filling the silence. Told numerous times the interview can be delayed, Winnie and Frank shake their heads.
They’re dedicated to this cause — a tribute for their son. So they answer all questions.
They keep alive the George Pelawa Memorial Scholarship. The Flames honoured their 20-year commitment to the award, but that ended in 2007. Since then the parents have quietly and happily shelled out $1,000 for the annual prize.
“Calgary carried it . . . which is very nice,” says Winnie. “When that quit, we picked it up, continued it. We never thought much about it, then, all of a sudden, the 20 years were up. So we just decided to carry it through.”
But that’s a lot of money, isn’t it?
“Well, it’s worth it,” she insists, despite the couple’s modest income — Frank, 67, is a retired mechanic; Winnie, 61, works for Beltrami County Public Health. “Till we die or we can’t afford it . . . we’ll keep it going.”
This came as news to Flames president Ken King, who says the team plans to revisit the legacy program “based on what we now understand to be the current situation. We’ve talked to the people down there and we think there’s something we can do.”
Meanwhile, George’s childhood chums — determined not to let the parents foot the bill — have begun raising funds.
“Maybe in 20 years,” says Keith Dahl, “there’ll be a whole new group that’s heard of him . . . if you keep the scholarship going.”
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