Generation Health

Checking in with Shane Doan

By Aline Lindemann

What would Shane Doan have done if he hadn’t become a legendary hockey star? “I would have been a cowboy,” he says, smiling impishly. “But I’m not tough enough.”

The team captain of the Phoenix Coyotes—a man who’s ranked tenth in his league for power plays, who led his team in scoring for five consecutive seasons, and weighs in somewhere around 228 pounds—has got to be kidding. Not tough enough? In a sport where, as he puts it, “If you’re not getting hurt, you’re not really playing the game,” Doan is serious about taking care of himself, and those around him.

And there are always people around him, especially lately. The recent, seemingly endless press coverage of the Coyotes’ trip through bankruptcy court and the hasty exit of hockey icon Wayne Gretzky, whose iconic talent didn’t translate into success as a coach, have amped up the demand for Doan’s attention, making him the eye of the Phoenix Coyotes’ ongoing storm. He spends as much time these days at press conferences and fielding print interviews as he does on the ice. Yet Doan, an absolute giant when fully dressed in his uniform and skates, remains small of demeanor; measured and modest as he deals with a daily line of hungry reporters, who mill around the Coyotes locker room, waiting their turn.

It’s not what he was after when he became a pro hockey player. Ice, Doan claims, is in his blood; he always knew he would have a future on it. He was born into an athletic, close-knit family famous for their standings in the Canadian Rodeo Hall of Fame and spent his childhood riding and roping on his family’s dude ranch in Alberta, Canada. But hockey was Doan’s destiny.

“I just knew this I what I was going to do,” he says. “I love hockey—I really do. I’m blessed to have a job that I still love.”

Doan is the longest tenured player on the team and the last remaining player to have competed with the Winnipeg Jets before the franchise moved to Arizona in 1996 and was morphed into the Phoenix Coyotes. That move proved to be detrimental to the success of the team—the organization has reportedly lost nearly $400 million since their relocation to the desert. Still, Doan is consistently a top scorer and is known as one of the most supremely talented and most respected names in hockey.

But recent rumors that the team may be moved back to Canada have dealt a critical blow to this season’s ticket sales, and put the organization’s future—the Coyotes and Jobing.com arena, their home rink, account for 750 jobs and $30 million in wages—on shaky ground.

Doan doesn’t like to talk about any of this, and deftly turns a reporter’s attention away from financial woes and back to his team. He loves, he says, the Coyotes’ youthful new players. “We have some great young players coming up,” he says, steering talk from hardship to hard ice. “They’re going to be really good for this team.”

His role as team captain might have gone to his head, but Doan credits his wife, Andrea, with keeping him in check. The couple has four children between the ages of three and ten. “Family,” he says with a twinkle in his eye and a wide smile, “is at the center of everything. It all revolves around them.”

Now Doan is deflecting attention away from himself and talk of his life as a celebrity athlete. “Ninety-five percent of this country has so much, and I certainly have more than my share,” he says, gesturing emphatically, then shifting gears again to discuss the amount of down time he gives up for the various charities he supports. High on the long list of non-profits supported by Coyote Charities, the philanthropic arm of the team, is United Blood Services (UBS). Doan may hem and haw about what makes a sports superstar, but the mention of UBS gets his attention.

“It’s not necessary to have a big bank account or celebrity status to make a positive, life-changing impact on other people,” he says.

Doan likes to talk about how January is National Volunteer Blood Donor Month, and how, even in these tough economic times, most of us do have something to give. “The gift of a blood donation can dramatically affect another person’s life,” he insists. “Your blood could go to a mother of three children or to a teacher or to someone’s child. It’s such a simple gift but it means everything—in some cases, it means life to someone who needs it.”

Doan points out that, during the month of January, donations are low and the need for blood is greater than ever. According to Sue Thew, marketing manager at UBS, that’s because sixty percent of donations come from blood drives, and precious few of them take place between Christmas and New Year’s Day. Teens and young adults make up the largest donor group and, with high schools and universities on winter break and the flu season in full swing, the blood supply is scarce.

“The average daily need is 700 donors per day,” Thew says. To keep holiday blood donor numbers high, she and Doan are offering an incentive: throughout January, blood donors will receive a voucher for free admission to the FBR Open at Scottsdale’s Tournament Players Club.

“We have programs running all year long,” Thew says. “But we recognize that people are busy and we want to make this fun for them.”

Doan’s a fan of fun, too. But when he’s not talking about blood donation, the twinkle tends to leave his eyes. “There’s always room for growth,” he’s willing to say, his voice trailing off. Toward that end, Shane Doan offers his carefully planned New Year’s Resolutions. “For the team,” he says, “playoffs. I want to go to the playoffs! For my family, I don’t know if I would change a thing. I’d like to just keep doing what we’re doing. And for myself, well, I just want to be more thankful.”

The First Annual Coyotes Carnival, with proceeds benefiting Coyotes Charities, will take place on Sunday, January 10 at Tempe Town Lake Park.