Rink of dreams: the on-ice death of 12-year-old Quinn Connally was an unimaginable nightmare for his family; yet drawing from that tragedy, the family has found the strength to build a lasting memorial honoring Quinn's love of the game - Quinn Connally Memorial Sports Facility

Hockey Digest, Summer, 2003 by Chuck O'Donnell

LIKE MANY KIDS COMING UP ON their 13th birthday, Quinn Connally struggled to find his place in this world. His body-turned-science-experiment became as awkward as the word "adolescent." Overnight, he discovered he didn't have feet anymore--he had size-12 flippers.

Trying to make sense of all this was hard. Inside his head he contemplated the great mysteries of the teenage world: parents, friends, girls, and school.

Now school, that was a big problem. He almost wanted to quit because dyslexia made completing his classwork as impossible as breaking a left-wing lock.

Hockey offered Quinn a refuge from his struggles in school. On the rink, he could harness his body into one cohesive force. There he could shut out everything else in his life; the only thing he had to read was a developing play.

Quinn died playing the game he loved on December 4, 2000. Skating with his teammates at practice, Quinn went down to block a shot and the puck struck him in the back of the head, crushing two arteries that carry blood to the brain.

You can imagine the range of emotions Quinn's parents have gone through since the on-ice accident took their son from them. You might think the Connallys would be angry at the sport that claimed their son's life. That, however, is not the case.

The Connallys decided that if they can't have their son, they're going to make sure that a part of him--his spirit--lives on. They know there are many kids stumbling their way through adolescence who have found their way and their passion on the ice--the same way Quinn did.

Stephen and Ann Connally are trying to give those kids in and around Pittsfield, Mass., the same chance to pursue their dreams. Their goal is to break ground on the Quinn Connally Memorial Sports Facility--a twin ice rink--this spring and have it up and running by the fall. While the only rinks in the area close up shop half the year, this facility will not only have ice year-round, but a floor that can be laid down and used for everything from indoor soccer games to school dances.

"Everybody needs to find their thing," Stephen says. "It's all about giving them the opportunity. Look at all the kids across the country who don't get a chance to put the skates on. At least here, everybody will have a chance to skate. If you can't pay, we're going to figure out how you can get out on the ice. If you want to play, well figure it out.

"It's so wonderful that both of our kids--we have a daughter Tessa who is 13--have found their passions early on. It just gives back to them so much. They have a real sense of joy. Tessa rides horses and she snowboards. It just makes your heart sing when you see your kid out there, enjoying themselves and having a good time and learning things all the while."

Quinn discovered hockey on his very first trip down to the local rink when he was four or five. Stephen can still remember the excitement on Quinn's face.

"My thoughts were 'Well if he likes it, great. If he doesn't, so be it. Maybe well look into something else,'" he says. "After that first Saturday trip to the rink, he came in on Sunday morning jumping up and down and waking us up and shouting, 'Come on, let's go! We have to go to the rink! We're going to be late!' That was pretty much it."

Quinn went on to play defense in his town's league, molding his game after two of his favorite players: Detroit Red Wings' Vladimir Konstantinov and Darren McCarty. And like his favorite players, Quinn--always one of the bigger kids in the league--wasn't afraid to throw his weight around a little. "His body was going through a lot of changes," Ann says. "He was going through an awkward stage. I mean, his feet were huge. He really hadn't grown into his body yet. His hands and feet were huge. He was just hitting puberty. Mentally, he wanted to be there, too. I think he was getting there."

And he was developing, what Stephen calls, "a good head for the game." Like in a big playoff game, with his team trailing 1-0, he knew when to jump in and join the play. Quinn's team was trying to kill a five-on-three situation when the opposing team didn't clear the puck and got caught in a change. One of Quinn's teammates had a breakaway.

"I was coaching at the time," Stephen says. "I see Quinn joining the play. I'm jumping up and down yelling, 'Quinn, stay back! Get back!'" But Quinn kept going, got the rebound, and scored. "He skated over to the bench," Stephen says. "What am I going to say now? He looked at me and smiled, sat down, never said a word. We went on to win that game, 2-1."

Quinn didn't just dedicate himself on the ice, but he was forced to buckle down in the classroom. The Connallys' only rule of the house: Quinn had to maintain a B average in order to keep playing. Although dyslexia made it difficult, Quinn found a way.

"Homework time was very difficult around here" Ann says. "It was dreadful. Unfortunately, we as parents were at a loss on how to proceed to get him in the right mode to learn. Hindsight is 20-20. He expressed a lot of rage because he was dyslexic. Often times he would say, 'Oh mom, I feel so stupid. I can't read this.' Sometimes as a parent, you do get very frustrated with him. Sometimes you think, 'He's not doing his hardest. He just doesn't want to do this.' But in fact, they're wired differently. Their brains are wired differently. They really perceive the written word differently.