If I Ever Make It Back: Coaching Hockey in North Korea

By Francois Lemay

I've always been fascinated by North Korea and always knew that if I had the opportunity to visit some day, I'd be all over it. Little did I know that many years later, I'd be standing at my hotel window in the border town of Dandong, China, staring at the darkness that laid across the Yalu River. I was a stone throw away from the most mysterious and unpredictable country on the planet: North Korea.
"They have hockey in North Korea?" many asked.
They sure do.
The North Koreans have a saying: "The first time you visit North Korea, you are a stranger. The second time, you are a friend. The third time, you're family." Little did I think that two weeks after setting foot in the DPRK for the first time, I'd be returning home leaving behind a group of hockey players, men and women, that I already considered as friends, people that I dearly care for, people that I've shed tears over.
Here are some of my stories about spending time with local Koreans, the real people, the forgotten ones. This is about the North Korea no one talks about and its resilient, humble, shy and down to earth athletes who love and play the same game as you and me, but in some of the most difficult conditions imaginable. This is about a group of young men and women who deserve your compassion because just like you and I, they have friends, families and want to live their lives to the fullest. Just like you and I, they have dreams, goals, and are always looking to improve their lives. But unlike us, the entire world seems against them.

They furiously play a game that is so pure and raw at the same time, without any foreign influence. They play a game that fascinates me, a game that makes me want to do more. With barely any knowledge of the modern game, what the North Koreans lack in knowledge and abilities, they try to make up with discipline and heart.
This is about the North Korea you never knew existed, and about its people who make you appreciate your way of life so much more than you ever have.
It's true, no one walks from the DPRK unchanged.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Apr 30, 2020
• ISBN: 9780228826491

Francois Lemay

Francois Lemay lives and breathes hockey. Feeling more and more disconnected with professional hockey, he found a need to reconnect with the game that he profoundly loves through his travels. Of all the places in the world where hockey is played, the ones that ignited his passion the most are some of the most obscure, unlikely places. On the top of that list: the DPRK, North Korea.He has been coaching goalies for a living for over a decade. Hockey has brought him to countries such as France, Switzerland, Slovenia, the Czech Republic, China and North Korea.His wife Laura unconditionally supports him in all his projects, as crazy as they may be. He is also the father of three young daughters, all hockey players, and a two-year old son who is already addicted to the game.Combining both his passions of coaching and traveling, it opened-up the doors to a world of opportunities for this "nobody" coach wanting to make his mark on the world stage.

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If I Ever Make it Back

Copyright © 2020 by Francois Lemay

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Tellwell Talent

www.tellwell.ca

ISBN

978-0-2288-2648-4 (Hardcover)

978-0-2288-2647-7 (Paperback)

978-0-2288-2649-1 (eBook)

Table of Contents

Preface

Raised Under the Iron Fist of Hockey

Closing the Gap

North Korea: The Secretive Nation

China: Just Like I Remembered It

Pyongyang

Walking the Streets

Windsor

Hockey in the DPRK

The North & The South

The Domestic League

The DPRK Men’s National Team

The DPRK Women’s National Team

Su-hyon Jong, the Face of North Korean Hockey

The Rising Stars of the DPRK

The Masked Men of the Bingsangwan

The Canadians are Here! The Canadians are Here!

The NHL

Hockey in China

Some Fishy Stories

NoKoade

The $21 Massage

The Golden Lanes

The Badge

Shredding Tears & Drinking Beers

Moving Forward

Preface

It’s not every day that a team lines up in front of you and bows after practice. This was common practice in North Korea, and one of many overwhelming moments I was experiencing only a few days into my trip. At the end of practice, the players would gather around me, listen to my post -p ractice spiel and then form a line. They’d bow as a sign of respect and appreciation to the coach. I had never experienced anything like this, it was a powerful gesture. They would then fist pump me before exiting the ice.

The level of respect we received from the athletes was unprecedented, to me anyways. The women’s team quickly became my favorite group to work with—in my entire coaching career. They were a lovely group: they’d smile and giggle a lot. They paid attention, asked questions, and embraced every moment we had together. The kids were the same. When I blew the whistle, everything stopped instantly. They’d gather around me and take a knee, with all eyes on me. They were eager to learn.

I was the only on-ice coach at my first North Korean youth hockey practice. I was accompanied by my translator, Jin-A, who didn’t skate. She stood on the outside of the boards, translating. Jin-A was my only way of communicating with the kids since I spoke no Korean and them, no English. The kids gathered around me as I introduced myself. All eyes were on me and for many, this was their first ever interaction with a Westerner. Some of the kids looked at me as if I was from another planet, which it actually felt like sometimes. Jin-A carefully listened to my directions and then translated them to the kids. As she was speaking, most of the kids would still stare at me, probably trying to figure out how the heck I ended up there.

We finished the introductions, and it was time to get to work. As I got ready to demonstrate the drill, I noticed the drawing board was hung to the glass on the other side of the rink. Being unable to skate across the ice, Jin-A started making her way around the rink to meet me there. She instructed the kids to follow me across, so off I went. As this was our first day on the ice, quite a few curious parents, grandparents and siblings were in attendance. Not often does a coach come from Canada to teach your kid, so they wanted to see and experience it with their own eyes. They were all sitting in the stands on the opposite side behind the drawing board. I noticed the group of about fifty people staring at me as I skated toward them with the kids trailing behind. I took my left glove off and saluted the crowd. Then the best moment of my entire coaching career happened: everyone stood up, in unison, and waved back at me, smiling.

It was an overwhelming moment for me because I felt like it was a huge icebreaker. Their curiosity brought them there. At that moment, I believe, we broke barriers. I had been in Pyongyang for a few days only, and yet I was wondering if I’d ever be accepted by the people. Who knows what they think of us Canadians, Americans, Westerners, whatever. At that moment, I felt accepted and felt like we got that much closer to each other. They all waved, smiled and some of them clapped. I remember a small group of kids running in the stands toward where I was heading; they were jumping, and waving. It was a fantastic moment, it brought me so much happiness. It was such a fun moment that I will forever remember. It made me smile and brought me so much peace, if that makes sense.

As the practice went on, I’d smile, wave and wink at the kids watching from the first row of seats when I’d skate by. I once skated by, sat on my stick and waived as I glided in front of them. They thought it was hilarious. I also kept flicking pucks into the seats just to have them run to it and throw it back on the ice. We did that all practice long and they were having a blast. Making those kids laugh made me feel like a million bucks.

I’d like to quote one of my favorite musicians, Dave Grohl, frontman of the Foo Fighters and former drummer of Nirvana. Not only is he a fantastic musician and songwriter, but a magnificent human being. This guy knows how to enjoy every single minute of life. He’s a huge rock star but it clearly doesn’t get to his head. He’s got to be one of the most genuine and down-to-earth celebrities out there.

In 2015, the Foo Fighters released the Saint-Cecilia EP. The album included a letter written by Dave to the fans, talking about the making of the songs, how the album came alive and discussing the mind-boggling grandiosity of the band worldwide. He wrote about living in the moment and appreciating every single moment as they come. A few lines really struck home for me:

I must admit, I never looked at our schedule. I was too scared. I knew that this was it. This was the big one. There was talk of stadiums, and anniversaries, and TV shows. South Africa, Korea, Colombia. Letterman and Glastonbury. It all seemed too good to be true! But, as always, we kept our heads down and tried to appreciate every single moment as it fled. Because, you realize, none of this was ever supposed to happen. Ever. As we approached our twentieth anniversary, it was hard not to look back on all those years and smile while shaking our heads in wonder and disbelief. From the Mike Watt van tour of 1995, to RFK stadium in Washington DC (my hometown gig) July 4th, 2015…those dots don’t necessarily connect in real life, you know? It still boggles the mind. But, the spoils of these blessings are not lost upon us. We count every last one.

As I’m reading this, it hits me. Every single day I think about North Korea and still wonder how the heck it even happened. Of all people, why would I go to North Korea? It wasn’t supposed to happen. I still can’t grasp the fact that I got to set foot in the DPRK for the purpose, of course, of hockey. What’s even cooler is that you’ll probably never meet anyone again that’s been.

A string of events and encounters over several years led to this opportunity. What I still can’t understand is, why me? How did I get so lucky? When I catch myself wondering, I stop and go back to thinking about Dave Grohl’s letter. I need to stop asking myself why and accept the fact that I did all the right and wrong things that led to this opportunity. Live in the moment. Stop looking for answers because sometimes there are none. Live in and appreciate every moment.

You went to North Korea? people ask with this look of disbelief.

Or Wait, what? North Korea??? That’s incredible!

People are in awe, and so am I, every day. My daughter’s teacher told her she was confusing North and South Korea because there was no way I was headed to North Korea.

Oh sweetie, your dad isn’t going to North Korea. South Korea maybe, but not North Korea, she said.

No, no, she said, North Korea.

The stupefaction on the teacher’s face when she saw my interview on television a few days later.

I got a kick out of telling people where I was going, I couldn’t wait to announce it. When you announce to your close ones that you’re headed to North Korea, you get a melting pot of reactions. Everyone’s caught off guard at first. Then it sinks in and people fear for you.

But…what if you never make it back??? someone asked.

It’s dangerous out there, you can get killed!

(Long silence)

Are you f***ing crazy???

It’s a fact, people in general know very little of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea. For most people in the Western world, those two words—North Korea—resonate with mystery and fear. Every time the country is mentioned, unfortunately, it’s in a negative way. There’s very little detail of everyday life there, and information isn’t easy to find. Everyone wonders why I would even go there, and how? How does this happen? A few people genuinely thought I may never come back. Of course, I was going to make it back home; getting in trouble never even crossed my mind.

Why would you even want to go there? people asked.

Why not? I’d ask. Aren’t you fascinated by it?

What if something bad happens to you???

North Korea is the unknown, the epitome of all trips. And that really turned me on. Although it’s slowly opening up to tourism, the DPRK is still nearly inaccessible and remains mysterious. The places that fascinate me most are more often the places less visited. I’m willing to give those places a try. Although I have one rule: there must be hockey. If there’s hockey, I’m there. I’d go just about anywhere they play hockey. Heck, if they played hockey in hell, I’d probably want to check it out as well.

The word was out, I’d be traveling to the DPRK, and people around me were losing their minds. Like I said, people have a lot of mixed opinions about it, which is normal. The way I see it, North Korea can be either the safest or the most dangerous place on earth, and that’s up to you. North Korea has strict laws and you need to stay mindful of cultural expectations. Just like everywhere else, if you follow the rules, you’ll be fine. Those rules range from non-severe social missteps, such as forcing an interaction or taking pictures of locals without permission, to potentially serious infractions such as tampering with propaganda or disrespecting past and present leaders. If you’re touring the country as part of a group, which you’ll most likely do, you’ll be clearly briefed about the do’s and don’ts of traveling to North Korea. The rules are loud and clear, and you’re very aware of them. It’s up to you to not screw up. I know it’s hard for some people who have absolutely no traveling etiquette, but go with the flow, be respectful, keep your opinions to yourself and enjoy the moment. It’s their home and their culture, so you need to be culturally sensitive.

Once the word was out, I saw this coming from miles away: some people started criticizing me. Let’s set something straight right away: there was absolutely nothing political about these trips (because I’ve been more than once). I was there for the sole purpose of developing the great game of hockey in a place that just happens to be overwhelmingly provocative and a complete mystery to most of us. It is beyond politics; this is real. It’s about real people, real life and an understanding of each other that could lead to a much better relationship between our countries and our people. Sports bring people together.

I did get some backlash, but I didn’t let it get to me. I just thought it was sad that some people couldn’t realize the immensity and rareness of this opportunity.

Was it because it was North Korea? F**K it! It didn’t matter—I was ecstatic.

Surprisingly, at no point were any sensitive topics brought up, either by our crew, our guides, or the locals we had the pleasure to mingle with. We respected their customs and beliefs. Even though they generally don’t understand our Western mindset, they respected us for who we were as well. They asked us questions about ourselves, about our lives. They asked me about my wife, my kids, hockey, traveling and, of course, about what I thought of my trip and their country. They genuinely wanted to get to know us. Absolutely nothing was staged either; every interaction was genuine. The table was set for us to have a fantastic time in Pyongyang and, of course, to make friends, which we did. I dearly care for my new friends. I can’t wait to see and work with them again.

I hope you enjoy the read. It was incredibly hard for me to put my thoughts on paper. I never even thought I’d write something like this. Heck, I barely read. It’s something I’ve never done and quite frankly, I never meant to write this. But here it is.

Cheers to you and the Foo Fighters, to hockey, and to my friends in North Korea!

Chapter 1

Raised Under the Iron Fist of Hockey

My life has never been easy, still isn’t. I can’t complain though, I have a great wife, four fantastic and healthy kids, and I come from a great family. Growing up, we didn’t have much. We had enough for what we needed. My parents bent over backwards for us to play sports. We never ate out, we didn’t go on vacation, we used second -h and hockey gear, we didn’t own anything fancy, and never once did we go on a shopping spree. Everyone in my family is relatively normal, which is phenomenal considering today’s soc iety.

I can’t say we’re a close-knit family though. With time, we’ve grown closer, but I’m clearly the odd one. Even though my parents, brother and sister live minutes away from each other, it wasn’t always like that. All three of us kids used to live far away from our parents. I was in Texas, my brother in British-Columbia, my sister in Alberta, and my mom and dad in Quebec City. No one ever got homesick. A decade later, everyone’s back home now, in Quebec City, with their growing families while my family and I are the only out of towners, living in Grand Forks, North Dakota—one of the best hockey towns in America—after spending seven years in Ottawa and Windsor.

I’ll talk to everyone once in a while, and my parents would come visit a few times per year. I’m not the kind of guy to miss my family. I’ll leave for Europe (or North Korea) for a week or two at a time a few times during the year and of course, I’ll miss my wife and kids. I’ll miss them and think of them a lot, but when I’m away, I’m busy and working and that’s where my mind is. I’m a loner, I’ve always been, I enjoy my time alone. It doesn’t make me a bad husband and father. I’ve always needed my own space and that’s it. I’m sure most of you can relate.

I don’t think anything I do surprises my parents anymore. I’ve always been the adventurous type. I’d travel impulsively and seek some weird places to travel to. Somehow though, I survived traveling by myself without getting in too much trouble. I traveled to places such as Slovenia and China by myself, knowing absolutely nothing of what would be waiting for me there. I didn’t have a worry in the world.

I was young, dumb and fearless! Maybe I had the biggest balls ever, or maybe I was just naïve or straight up stupid, I don’t know. I’d always come back in one piece. No one in my family was surprised the day I decided to leave for Texas. They may have been surprised by the location (not quite a hockey hotbed) but it wasn’t anything they hadn’t seen before. At least I was staying on the continent. No matter what, they always supported me, and I could never thank them enough for it.

Family aside, I was raised under the iron fist of hockey. Hockey owned me and has for as long as I can remember. And I owe everything to it. I’ve always had a tremendous respect for the game. It kept me out of trouble and taught me a lot about life and dealing with people and issues arising in different situations and with different personalities. Growing up, my parents never felt the need to sit me down to have a serious conversation. I never really gave them a reason to either; I understood if I ever crossed the line doing something dumb, I’d be immediately pulled out of hockey. I lived in fear of losing what I loved the most. I was a good kid. Far from perfect, but I can honestly say I’ve never done anything morally wrong or to purposely hurt anyone.

I’m a sane guy, from a sane family.

It’s my field of work that isn’t easy. Even though I know I am very good at what I do and enjoy it a lot, I often doubt myself when I start thinking about the future, about where I want to be in a year or two, or five. I think that’s normal. I don’t really enjoy those moments where I feel like I’m not moving forwards. Then I put things in perspective and realize that no matter what, I’m lucky to be me. If people knew, they’d want my life! I get to travel all over the world, go to all kinds of cool places, be part of all kinds of very neat projects, meet the most fantastic people and I have a wife that basically lets me do whatever I need to do. That’s priceless—she’s a rock star.

Life is all about opportunity. Nothing happens by accident, especially success. Successful people see the opportunities and seize them. Am I that successful? Meh. But in my own way, yes, I am. Sometimes, you don’t realize what you’ve got in front of you and it just passes you by. And unfortunately, sometimes seizing opportunities means leaving some people you really care about behind and making drastic changes. I’ve done that before, and it’s not fun. But that’s when you realize who genuinely cares about your well-being and your family. I’ve lost friends every time we moved. People get upset and cut the cord because you serve them no purpose anymore. It is what it is. If people are like that, so be it. I do wish they would make a better effort understanding though.

I’ve been making a living coaching goalies full time for a little more than twelve years. I’ve moved my family three times to places where we didn’t know anyone, that we’ve never been to before, and where I had no guaranteed work. Each time we’ve risked it all and moved hoping for the best. Not too many wives would sign up for that lifestyle. Even though there were some ups and downs, the journey in general has been a fantastic one.

A dozen years ago, I decided to start over, start fresh. I was living in the Gatineau-Ottawa area and I was miserable. I hated it. I didn’t enjoy work and even though I worked with great people, I couldn’t relate to any of my co-workers. It got to the point where every day got more painful than the last one. The day-to-day small talk and listening to people share every single little detail of their lives made me want to run. I couldn’t relate to any of it or anyone there. I wasn’t happy and could hardly find a reason to get up in the morning. All I wanted was to play and coach hockey. No one understood that.

We used to have Friday afternoon meetings at the office. They were a drag, I hated them. Late Friday afternoons, I’d go play pick up hockey on Ottawa’s east side with a great bunch of guys, mostly teachers. I had to rush out of the office after our weekly meeting and sit in traffic, which I hate doing. But those two hours of hockey were worth it; they were the highlight of my week. A co-worker ratted me out one day and my supervisor ripped me a new one. That was the last straw, my mind was made, I was getting out of there. So many people have told me so many times I wouldn’t achieve anything with hockey. I simply couldn’t connect with the people around me.

You tell me I can’t do something anytime you want, but I’ll turn around and do it even better to stick it in your face. I love when people doubt me. There’s nothing more satisfying than sticking it to someone who underestimates and looks down on you. Getting up in the morning and going through the day backwards isn’t my definition of living. Things had to change. But that was solely up to me.

I knew what I wanted. I did some research, made some phone calls, ditched work, quickly said bye to everyone and decided head south to Dallas, Texas. I was going to become the only thing I wanted to be: a goalie coach. It was far from a popular move with my close ones, but they knew better than anyone that my mind was made. I take chances and have never been afraid of change. I’ve always been sort of a loner so I wasn’t afraid of packing up and leaving. My roommate got mad that I was ditching the lease and that relationship suffered from it. She didn’t know what I was going through, she didn’t know I was lost, she didn’t know I was about to pursue the only thing I wanted to do with my life.

Whatever. I was finally figuring things out.

My parents probably shook their heads thinking Where and what now again? but still supported me like they always did. I had no money, borrowed a few dollars from my brother and drove south to start a new life. My obsession with hockey and doing things differently drove my parents nuts. I remember a long time ago when I was fascinated by hockey in Romania for some reason. There’s no money (at the time anyways) for hockey in Romania and most clubs there had to fight through thick and thin to stay alive or to even keep their rink functioning. I had a contact there, a sports journalist. At first, he invited me to come out and watch some games, hang out. Then he asked me if I was interested in playing. Plans were in the works when my mom caught wind of it. She called my Uncle in France, who’s no stranger to European hockey, to ask him about it. It went something like this:

Is he crazy? It’s super violent out there, he said.

My mom turned white as a sheet. Of course, I knew it was wild out there. The previous season, some team (I forget which one) was playing a road game in Bucharest, against Steaua (Sta-wa), the Army team. Things got out of hand on the ice and a few players got ejected. The players skated off, hit the showers and sat in the stands for the remainder of the game. Later-on, some Steaua fans confronted them. Words were exchanged and people started shoving each other until another group of fans came to break it off. The handful of Steaua fans then left, but that wouldn’t be the end of it. The Steaua fans came back a few minutes