Brad Tapper Story
Sept 21, 2006 8:31:00 GMT -5
Post by cigarviper on Sept 21, 2006 8:31:00 GMT -5
Flyers' Tapper keeps fighting the odds
Anthony SanFilippo, Of the Times Staff
09/21/2006
VOORHEES, N.J. -- Brad Tapper’s chances of making the Flyers roster out of training camp are slim at best. But then again, he’s faced impossible odds before. Tapper’s hope of standing out in a crowd of forwards battling for a precious spot or two is dim, but then again, he’s had to fight to stand out all his life.
And after hearing his story, a story he said is being told now for the first time, Tapper should never have to scratch and claw for the attention he deserves again.
Tapper, 28, grew up in a foster home in the Toronto suburb of Scarborough, Ontario. Not that he was a foster child. No, he was the youngest of four sons to Bill and Donna Tapper.
Instead, he played big brother to hundreds of children in need of a home.
While his father was a hard-working gas meter man, his mother was a homemaker -- for more than 300 children.
Working closely with the Catholic Children’s Aid Society, the Tapper family has been operating a foster home for children, most of whom were underprivileged, abused, or abandoned, for more than 30 years.
"My area back home is not the best area and you see a lot of kids on the street," said Tapper. "I grew up with the wrong crowd, but I found a way to get out of all that stuff, but you learn from your mistakes, you feel bad about the kids coming in and you help them along."
Tapper said there were five foster kids in his house at any one time, meaning mom was preparing meals for 11 every night.
Some of the children, who arrived in the Tapper household anywhere between the ages of 2 days and 7 years, stayed for a week, others for months, some as long as eight years.
"I was changing diapers when I was 7 years old," said Tapper. "We had kids who came in with broken limbs or abused, but my parents always seemed to find a way.
"We have two Philippine kids there right now and one of them still has cocaine in their system from their parents. It’s tough, but growing up we didn’t mind. We were raised on discipline and I didn’t mind. It was good. My dad made sure we called a spade of spade."
Tapper used his home experiences, as well as his passion for hockey, to avoid the dangers of the seedy streets of his hometown.
"A lot of my friends have not done anything in their lives," said Tapper. "I see them in the summers and they’ve done nothing. The one thing that’s kept me away from all that (stuff), smoking and drugs and stuff was that I was at hockey all the time. It protected me a lot. I lost a friend to drugs. One of my friends is in a wheelchair because he stole a car, but no one knows my story. No one asks so I don’t tell."
Until now.
But Tapper’s story doesn’t end there.
After signing with the Atlanta Thrashers as an undrafted free agent following a productive collegiate career at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, Atlanta sent him to their International Hockey League affiliated Orlando Solar Bears in 2000 where he became fast friends with another undrafted forward -- Daniel Snyder.
Together they won the Turner Cup with Orlando in 2001 and then moved to the AHL with the Chicago Wolves the next season, where they shared an apartment on the city’s North Side, a cross-ice pass from Wrigley Field, and went on to hoist the Calder Cup in 2002.
In the interim, both friends were getting cups of coffee with the Thrashers, and appeared headed toward decent NHL careers.
Then, Tapper had the worst day of his life Oct. 5, 2003.
In the span of several hours he learned that Snyder, his best friend, had died from injuries resulting from a violent car crash inside the Ferrari of then Thrashers teammate and current Ottawa Senator Dany Heatly and his former assistant coach and mentor at RPI, Bill Cahill, died from a massive heart attack.
"I lost two of my best friends in the same night," he said.
Tapper had an emotional breakdown. He cried all the time. Sometimes in bed. On better days, he made it around the corner before the tear ducts opened.
He even admitted to a reporter at the time that he found himself crying on the ice during games and seriously began contemplating retirement.
It became even worse when he was going through some boxes in the apartment they shared a couple nights before Snyder’s funeral, and found his friend’s championship rings from Orlando and Chicago.
For the first time in his life, hockey wasn’t his salvation, but was his personal hell.
In need of a change of scenery, Atlanta traded him to Ottawa in exchange for Daniel Corso (who is also with the Flyers in training camp this season), and Tapper began to flourish, posting 21 points in 29 games for the Senators farm club in Binghamton.
Then came the concussions. Two of them in fact, ending Tapper’s season. And, he thought, his NHL career.
Tapper went to Germany to play in their Elite League, and there he sat for two seasons, with nary an NHL nibble.
Until this summer, when the Flyers came calling.
He signed a one-year deal with the Flyers, with no promises, and he came to camp with one more chance at making it in the NHL.
But before he came to Philadelphia, he was visited by Snyder’s parents, with whom Tapper has kept in close contact with since the tragic death of their son.
"Mr. Snyder said, ‘Just go in there, it doesn’t matter how many guys they have on one-ways (NHL only contracts), just go in and make a point by yourself and you never know.’ He simply said, ‘You never know, you can go out and earn a spot,’" said Tapper.
"I’m hoping to earn a spot. I’ve been working my butt off for days and I’ll keep on doing that and make them have to make a decision. If I have to start with the Phantoms, I’ll start with the Phantoms but when I get that chance I’m going to try to thrive on it this time."
It’s a chance Tapper never thought would come again. It’s part of a story Tapper thought never would be publicized.
"I’ve always wanted to tell Oprah about my mom," he said. "No one ever asked about it, and I don’t have to tell them, but it’s an amazing accomplishment that I keep in here," he said, pointing to his heart.
An accomplishment that he rightly attributes to his parents, but also an accomplishment of resilience and survival that he should also recognize for himself
Anthony SanFilippo, Of the Times Staff
09/21/2006
VOORHEES, N.J. -- Brad Tapper’s chances of making the Flyers roster out of training camp are slim at best. But then again, he’s faced impossible odds before. Tapper’s hope of standing out in a crowd of forwards battling for a precious spot or two is dim, but then again, he’s had to fight to stand out all his life.
And after hearing his story, a story he said is being told now for the first time, Tapper should never have to scratch and claw for the attention he deserves again.
Tapper, 28, grew up in a foster home in the Toronto suburb of Scarborough, Ontario. Not that he was a foster child. No, he was the youngest of four sons to Bill and Donna Tapper.
Instead, he played big brother to hundreds of children in need of a home.
While his father was a hard-working gas meter man, his mother was a homemaker -- for more than 300 children.
Working closely with the Catholic Children’s Aid Society, the Tapper family has been operating a foster home for children, most of whom were underprivileged, abused, or abandoned, for more than 30 years.
"My area back home is not the best area and you see a lot of kids on the street," said Tapper. "I grew up with the wrong crowd, but I found a way to get out of all that stuff, but you learn from your mistakes, you feel bad about the kids coming in and you help them along."
Tapper said there were five foster kids in his house at any one time, meaning mom was preparing meals for 11 every night.
Some of the children, who arrived in the Tapper household anywhere between the ages of 2 days and 7 years, stayed for a week, others for months, some as long as eight years.
"I was changing diapers when I was 7 years old," said Tapper. "We had kids who came in with broken limbs or abused, but my parents always seemed to find a way.
"We have two Philippine kids there right now and one of them still has cocaine in their system from their parents. It’s tough, but growing up we didn’t mind. We were raised on discipline and I didn’t mind. It was good. My dad made sure we called a spade of spade."
Tapper used his home experiences, as well as his passion for hockey, to avoid the dangers of the seedy streets of his hometown.
"A lot of my friends have not done anything in their lives," said Tapper. "I see them in the summers and they’ve done nothing. The one thing that’s kept me away from all that (stuff), smoking and drugs and stuff was that I was at hockey all the time. It protected me a lot. I lost a friend to drugs. One of my friends is in a wheelchair because he stole a car, but no one knows my story. No one asks so I don’t tell."
Until now.
But Tapper’s story doesn’t end there.
After signing with the Atlanta Thrashers as an undrafted free agent following a productive collegiate career at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, Atlanta sent him to their International Hockey League affiliated Orlando Solar Bears in 2000 where he became fast friends with another undrafted forward -- Daniel Snyder.
Together they won the Turner Cup with Orlando in 2001 and then moved to the AHL with the Chicago Wolves the next season, where they shared an apartment on the city’s North Side, a cross-ice pass from Wrigley Field, and went on to hoist the Calder Cup in 2002.
In the interim, both friends were getting cups of coffee with the Thrashers, and appeared headed toward decent NHL careers.
Then, Tapper had the worst day of his life Oct. 5, 2003.
In the span of several hours he learned that Snyder, his best friend, had died from injuries resulting from a violent car crash inside the Ferrari of then Thrashers teammate and current Ottawa Senator Dany Heatly and his former assistant coach and mentor at RPI, Bill Cahill, died from a massive heart attack.
"I lost two of my best friends in the same night," he said.
Tapper had an emotional breakdown. He cried all the time. Sometimes in bed. On better days, he made it around the corner before the tear ducts opened.
He even admitted to a reporter at the time that he found himself crying on the ice during games and seriously began contemplating retirement.
It became even worse when he was going through some boxes in the apartment they shared a couple nights before Snyder’s funeral, and found his friend’s championship rings from Orlando and Chicago.
For the first time in his life, hockey wasn’t his salvation, but was his personal hell.
In need of a change of scenery, Atlanta traded him to Ottawa in exchange for Daniel Corso (who is also with the Flyers in training camp this season), and Tapper began to flourish, posting 21 points in 29 games for the Senators farm club in Binghamton.
Then came the concussions. Two of them in fact, ending Tapper’s season. And, he thought, his NHL career.
Tapper went to Germany to play in their Elite League, and there he sat for two seasons, with nary an NHL nibble.
Until this summer, when the Flyers came calling.
He signed a one-year deal with the Flyers, with no promises, and he came to camp with one more chance at making it in the NHL.
But before he came to Philadelphia, he was visited by Snyder’s parents, with whom Tapper has kept in close contact with since the tragic death of their son.
"Mr. Snyder said, ‘Just go in there, it doesn’t matter how many guys they have on one-ways (NHL only contracts), just go in and make a point by yourself and you never know.’ He simply said, ‘You never know, you can go out and earn a spot,’" said Tapper.
"I’m hoping to earn a spot. I’ve been working my butt off for days and I’ll keep on doing that and make them have to make a decision. If I have to start with the Phantoms, I’ll start with the Phantoms but when I get that chance I’m going to try to thrive on it this time."
It’s a chance Tapper never thought would come again. It’s part of a story Tapper thought never would be publicized.
"I’ve always wanted to tell Oprah about my mom," he said. "No one ever asked about it, and I don’t have to tell them, but it’s an amazing accomplishment that I keep in here," he said, pointing to his heart.
An accomplishment that he rightly attributes to his parents, but also an accomplishment of resilience and survival that he should also recognize for himself