Healing the flames' bodies and souls - Crew Corner - Morris Boyer, athletic trainer - Brief Article

Hockey Digest, March, 2002 by Bryan Ethier

Name: Morris Boyer

Team: Calgary Flames

Positions: Senior Athletic Trainer

ITS 7:30 A.M. ON GAME DAY, AND Morris Boyer, the senior athletic trainer for the Calgary Flames, has arrived at his sanctuary, a world of whirlpools and tables, strains and sprains, fears and secrets.

Welcome to the Flames' athletic training room.

For much of the next 12 hours, Boyer will prepare his players to do their jobs. He'll tape the wrists and pad the tender spots of the walking wounded: he'll usher players to the hot tubs and cold tubs to soothe stiff and sore muscles, tendons, and ligaments. Other players will avail themselves of ultrasound machines, strengthening drills, range of motion exercises, and cardiovascular workouts. Boyer even ensures that the players have enough water bottles during their morning practice.

During the course of the day, Boyer will review the more serious injuries: sprained joints, contusions, groin pulls, and so on. Then he'll provide the coaching and management staff with status reports on all the injured players. Some will be scratched; others will play through the pain.

"Our primary responsibility is taking care of the athletes, looking at injury prevention, injury assessment, and care and rehabilitation," Boyer says. "The ultimate goal is a safe integration and return to the sport."

How the training staff accomplishes that integration, and whom it integrates back into the lineup, remains one of club's most jealously guarded secrets.

"It's been the team policy that the trainers don't talk to the media about injuries," Boyer says. "Any injuries go through the GM and then to the public relations department where they are released to the media. I see all the secrets and how everything is a secret I think it's because they don't want to give opponents an advantage on knowing certain things about the players and what they're thinking about certain players."

In addition to dealing with the muscles and bones in a player's body, Boyer often heals the player's soul.

"Every day it seems to be emotional in the dressing room. Now, some of the worst injuries, I guess, would be seeing players with significant injuries that jeopardize their career, and they realize it. We take a team approach to explain to the athlete what's going on and what they can expect. We know from experience that these players are at a fragile moment when they're in that position emotionally."

So fragile, that a player may consider playing with a substantive injury rather than report it to a trainer and risk losing his job. Boyer solves that communication dilemma by developing an affinity with each player.

"That's player-trainer confidentiality, and it's part of the trust we've built up over the years. They're not afraid to be open with us, and say, `Listen this is what's going on.' They know we're going to keep it under our hats. The more you work together, the more you've talked to one another, we get to develop an idea of how they're thinking."

Virtually all of the convalescing players are thinking, "Let me get back on the ice."

"You never want to pull a player off the ice, because they're probably feeling the same as you are: They're loving it, they're playing."

Boyer feels that same innocent love of the game every time the Flames play. For him, this is a 24/7 job that deprives him of as much family time (he travels with the team) as it does the players. A "vacation day" is a short day when Boyer can bring his sons to the office.

"I still love game day, walking out when the national anthem is playing," Boyer says. "It's a real challenge because you have to keep your real emotions in check. Sometimes you have to make decisions on the bench, and you try to make it as objective as possible, without the emotion component. But you can't help get emotional when you love it."

What's the toughest part of the job?

"I hate losing," says Boyer, who played organized hockey as a youngster.

"When your team's in a slump, and all the players around you are disappointed and maybe angry or confused as to why they're losing, you tell them things are going to get better, and you're losing it; it drags you down. I think it's frustrating because I've always got to stay optimistic."