VANCOUVER / TENNESSEE: (David and Bud Poile) Preds GM Balances Team Success With Family Turmoil
By JOHN GLENNON - Staff Writer

Monday, 05/03/04

They sat one beside the other, father and son watching hockey on television as they had for so many decades.

Only this time, something was wrong.

The father had always been the world's biggest Nashville Predators fan — a man who'd believed they would make the
playoffs in their first year of existence, a man who thought nothing of taking journalists to task when they wrote
negatively about the team.

So why was he rooting for the other guys tonight?

Why was he pulling against the Predators, who were in the midst of a fierce struggle to gain their first playoff berth?
Why was he cheering the hated Detroit Red Wings as the teams battled into overtime?

David Poile manages a small, sad smile when he recalls that March evening six weeks ago.

It was the night he fully realized how much a 15-year battle with Parkinson's disease, a bout with pneumonia and a
debilitating stroke had taken from his father, Bud, an NHL Hall of Famer and former league general manager.

In its own way, the moment also encapsulated what has been without question the most trying — along with one of the
most rewarding — 15 months of Poile's life.

On the ice, the Predators general manager had finally begun to see the fruits of more than half a decade of patient
labor, as the team he built from scratch matured into a playoff contender.

But instead of being able to completely enjoy the transformation, Poile found himself trying to cope with a series of
jarring family setbacks that occurred in Vancouver.

He lost his mother, Margaret, in January 2003 after making the decision to take her off life support. He lost his
sister and only sibling, Margo, 11 months later, when she unexpectedly died in her sleep.

And less than two months ago, Poile lost the special relationship he shared with his father. The stroke stole almost
all of Bud's memory, leaving Poile with no choice but to place the man who'd given him his love for hockey in full-
assistance living.

It should come as no surprise that Poile is currently taking a bit of time to himself, but before leaving his office,
he reflected upon the arduous stretch of months.

It was a time in which he not only shouldered new responsibilities and discovered untapped energy reserves, but also
learned much more about three generations of his very own family.

''I think certainly when your parents get older and when they pass away or are near death, you become very reflective
of your own life,'' Poile said. ''It's been a difficult time in a lot of ways, but I'm hoping in my own way that it
makes me better prepared for future things — that it makes me as good a person as I can be, a better husband, a better
father, better at whatever I do.

''I don't want to say that it should weaken me. I miss my mum, my sister and I miss my relationship with my dad. But I
had a good relationship with all of them, which no one can take from me.''

Caught off guard

Those who know Poile best know him as the consummate planner, a man who's always thinking two steps ahead. But even
Poile couldn't plan his family's fate.

He'd always figured his father would be the first to pass, a result of the many health issues, especially Parkinson's,
that Bud had faced over the years.

Instead, it was news regarding his mother that began to change Poile's world just before Christmas 2002, when he
learned that Margaret, 79, had fallen and broken a hip for the second time in two years.

It's not good, Poile's father told him at first, but it's not too bad.

That optimism soon faded. Complications arose following surgery. Margaret fell into a coma. Pneumonia followed.

When Poile and his wife, Elizabeth, arrived in Vancouver, Margaret was already on life support.

''That was an awful feeling and an awful sight,'' Poile said. ''We spent seven days going to the hospital, listening to
the doctors tell us about what could happen, what the chances were.

''In reality, there was no chance. We had to take her off the life support.''

An hour later, Margaret died, bringing an end to a marriage of nearly six decades and creating a fresh set of
challenging circumstances.

Could Poile's sister, Margo, adequately take care of Bud?

Margo had been born with a hole in her heart and suffered minor brain injuries during the subsequent operation. She'd
attended special education classes as a child. She'd never left home, always worked at the hair salon down the street.

''But it was unbelievable how she rallied to be in charge, after all these years having been so dependent on my parents
for their care,'' Poile said. ''I hired a caretaker to help my dad get dressed and shaved and get him going in the
morning, and then Margo would come home from work for him. Everything seemed good.''

Until a few days after Thanksgiving last November, when Bud awoke to find that Margo, 52, had apparently died in her
sleep. Her heart had failed.

''There was this empty, hollow feeling,'' Poile said. ''I thought I was in a nightmare. There was no illness, no
sickness, no warning.''

Dealing with dad

In a week's time, Poile found himself attending his sister's funeral and placing his father in assisted living, finally
convincing the spirited Bud he needed to move from the family's condominium of 33 years.

Bud didn't exactly settle quietly into his new home. Then again, who thought he would?

This was a man who'd touched all he knew with his passion for life.

He'd played seven years in the NHL, and won a Stanley Cup in Toronto. He had coached in the minors for a decade, and
served as general manager of the Philadelphia Flyers and Vancouver Canucks. He had presided as commissioner of both the
International Hockey League and Central Hockey League.

His personality was magnetic, his charm endless.

He knew the kid who washed towels at the condominium pool, the shoe-shiners at the golf course, the boys who caddied
there. He flirted with the ladies and waitresses at the club.

He lived for hockey, golf and people.

Sure the Parkinson's slowed him, but he never complained. He'd brought tears to Poile's eyes one year earlier, when he
smiled his way through a round of golf despite stiff and shaking limbs.

It was no surprise that just a few days into Bud's stay at assisted living, a handful of his hockey buddies took the 80-
year-old man out on the town, bringing him back to the home at 2 in the morning.

And only a few weeks into his stay, once nurses discovered Bud's celebrity status, they had their children and
grandchildren lining up at his room for autographs.

Sure I'll sign for you, Bud would tell them, as long as you drive me to the next Canucks home game.

The stroke came in March, after Bud's defenses had been further weakened by a cold that had turned into pneumonia. It
damaged Bud's mind more than his body, stealing decades of memories and stripping him of the ability to process
information.

Bud recognized his son when Poile made his first visit following the stroke, but couldn't grasp the fact Poile was also
Nashville's general manager.

All the late-night calls Poile had placed to his father following games, to swap strategies or share opinions, came to
an end.

''I tried to do it a few times, but I guess I realized that really, there's nobody to call,'' Poile said. ''He was my
go-to guy. I think in your life and in your business, you have to have a mentor, somebody to go to when you can't go to
anyone else. That's the missing link in my life right now.''

Finding focus

It didn't help matters that Poile was based thousands of miles away from Vancouver, nor that like all general managers,
he was consumed with the job of trying to steer his team into the playoffs.

One hour of the day he'd find himself wondering if his father's medication was correct. The next, he'd be trying to
decide whether to ship two draft picks to Chicago for Steve Sullivan.

''Sometimes people fail to realize that those involved with all the pressures in sports still have the responsibility
of their families,'' said Brian Burke, Vancouver's current general manager.

''You need to have big-time focus to be able to keep those two sides distinct. I saw David quite a bit during his
visits to his father, and I thought he did a terrific job with that.''

Poile's reward came the night of April 3, when the Predators clinched their first postseason berth. But as coaches and
players made champagne toasts in a Denver hotel room, Poile couldn't help but think what the moment might have been
like to share with his father.

Living in the now

Bud remains in his full-assistance living home, where a steady stream of friends and relatives keep him in good
spirits, especially when they bring him favorite snacks like chocolate and marshmallows.

Poile plans another visit next month.

Doctors have told Poile that Bud isn't likely to see much improvement, but Poile realizes that he himself has changed
over the last several months.

He has learned to become a parent to the man who raised him, a planner for the man whose path he'd always followed.

In addition, the passing of two family members appears to have strengthened already close ties to those still with him.
Poile won't forget the tenderness his wife, Elizabeth, showed Bud during their trips to Vancouver, nor the eloquence of
his children, Brian and Lauren, during the funerals.

''My dad has always made it very clear that what's most important to him are my mom, myself and my sister,'' Brian
said. ''But I think everything that's happened has made him a little more sensitive, and maybe slightly reprioritized
some things.

''He's probably been making a few more phone calls to me and my sister these days. I think he's realized that life is
short.''

John Glennon covers the Predators for The Tennessean. He can be reached at [log in to unmask] or at (615) 259-8262.

SOURCE: The Tennessean, TN
http://tinyurl.com/yqnob

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