Former Bruin Geoff Courtnall was saved, and now he wants to save others too - The Boston Globe
what a read!
VANCOUVER — The gold mine that Geoff Courtnall sits on is real. The former Bruins winger struck it rich in Peru, as the lead partner/investor in a mine some five hours north of Lima, where production currently remains at a standstill because of a tussle with nearby villagers who want their piece of the motherlode.
“We’ve got a great deposit, which is obviously why they are blocking us,” a fit and relaxed Courtnall, 56, said here recently, sounding not the least bit frustrated over his stalled riches. “They know it is a good deposit and now they want their pound of flesh. So we’re trying to work it out.”
Time, said an assured Courtnall, will resolve it all. A lifetime of staring down the clock, a clock once blurred by alcohol until a call from Cam Neely helped get his life back in focus, has given him that confidence, that faith.
Courtnall’s life of learned patience began in earnest, and pain, as a 16-year-old when his father took his own life. Suffocating in depression, the father of four refused to seek the kind of mental health services that Geoff and his siblings since have helped bring to their hometown of Victoria, British Columbia. Today, patients at risk of suicide can walk into the Archie Courtnall Centre at the Royal Jubilee Hospital and receive mental health care.
Then the most important and hardest lesson of all came on that day in February 2010 when Neely called to say that he was concerned about his longtime pal’s drinking. Perpetually surrounded by an abundance of friends, gregarious and witty and successful in myriad post-career ventures, Courtnall had drifted into alcoholism during his 10 years out of the game.
Neely, his former Bruins roommate and friend for nearly a quarter-century, saw it, sensed it, felt compelled to pick up the phone. Not an easy call to make.
“Cam was the only one who had the guts to say it to me,” said Courtnall. “Lots of other people probably thought it — I know lots of my friends thought it. A lot of my friends here would say, ‘C’mon, man, you gotta come drink with us, you are so much fun.’ Where Cam was thinking of it as, ‘Holy [expletive], man, if you keep up this pace, things aren’t going to be good.’ ”
what a read!
VANCOUVER — The gold mine that Geoff Courtnall sits on is real. The former Bruins winger struck it rich in Peru, as the lead partner/investor in a mine some five hours north of Lima, where production currently remains at a standstill because of a tussle with nearby villagers who want their piece of the motherlode.
“We’ve got a great deposit, which is obviously why they are blocking us,” a fit and relaxed Courtnall, 56, said here recently, sounding not the least bit frustrated over his stalled riches. “They know it is a good deposit and now they want their pound of flesh. So we’re trying to work it out.”
Time, said an assured Courtnall, will resolve it all. A lifetime of staring down the clock, a clock once blurred by alcohol until a call from Cam Neely helped get his life back in focus, has given him that confidence, that faith.
Courtnall’s life of learned patience began in earnest, and pain, as a 16-year-old when his father took his own life. Suffocating in depression, the father of four refused to seek the kind of mental health services that Geoff and his siblings since have helped bring to their hometown of Victoria, British Columbia. Today, patients at risk of suicide can walk into the Archie Courtnall Centre at the Royal Jubilee Hospital and receive mental health care.
Then the most important and hardest lesson of all came on that day in February 2010 when Neely called to say that he was concerned about his longtime pal’s drinking. Perpetually surrounded by an abundance of friends, gregarious and witty and successful in myriad post-career ventures, Courtnall had drifted into alcoholism during his 10 years out of the game.
Neely, his former Bruins roommate and friend for nearly a quarter-century, saw it, sensed it, felt compelled to pick up the phone. Not an easy call to make.
“Cam was the only one who had the guts to say it to me,” said Courtnall. “Lots of other people probably thought it — I know lots of my friends thought it. A lot of my friends here would say, ‘C’mon, man, you gotta come drink with us, you are so much fun.’ Where Cam was thinking of it as, ‘Holy [expletive], man, if you keep up this pace, things aren’t going to be good.’ ”
