Between concussions and a stroke, Kris Letang missed 136 games over the past four seasons. Now he’s hoping to help the Penguins reach their true potential. By Ryan Dixon in Toronto

Photograph by KC Armstrong

iven the two men in the conversation, it was the kind of back and forth that begged for eavesdropping. Located about halfway between the ice surface and the dressing-room door at the MasterCard Centre in Toronto, Paul Coffey, a 54-year-old Hall of Fame defenceman who looks like he could still fill in on your top six, stood beside Pittsburgh Penguins blueliner Kris Letang, the latter leaning forward on his upright stick, still sweat-soaked from a peppery practice Coffey had dropped in on. For the better part of 20 minutes, they discussed whatever it is two all-world athletes who share a position talk about. It was fun to hypothesize, from 15 feet away, that what they were saying wouldn’t really be comprehensible to anyone but the handful of people who speak “elite defenceman.” Sure, you can listen to a pair of NASA engineers yak about launching a rocket, but how much can you really soak in? Eventually, the two men went their separate ways and a couple of hours later, Letang revealed that Coffey’s message to him was actually quite basic: “The main thing he wants me to do is shoot more.” It’s only natural the older party would pass on what he could to the junior guy. But had the chat taken place at a dinner table rather than a rink, and had it been about anything in life except hockey, Letang would be the rare 28-year-old who could tell a person nearly 30 years his senior a few things: Here’s what it’s like to enter your bathroom one morning, suddenly have your legs go wobbly and find out a couple of days later you were felled by a stroke. This is what it’s like when you get a phone call in the absolute prime of your life informing you that your cherished friend and fellow aspiring NHLer, Luc Bourdon, has been killed in a motorcycle accident. Letang has also dealt with conventional pro-athlete problems, namely the concussions that have sidelined him for chunks of his career. These days, Letang is doing all he can to quash chatter about his inability to stay healthy, which could help quiet some of the nagging questions about the true potential of his team. The conversation Letang had with Coffey that afternoon in Toronto was one of a few the pair have had in recent years. They first met in Mario Lemieux’s suite when Letang was sidelined long-term during the 2011–12 season. The year prior, the 23-year-old had established himself as a rising star, registering 50 points in 82 games. But in November 2011, in his hometown of Montreal, Letang was struck with a high hit from Canadiens left winger Max Pacioretty while cutting across the top of the offensive zone. The contact earned Pacioretty a three-game suspension and signalled the start of a four-season stretch in which Letang—who sustained his first of several concussions on the play—just hasn’t been able to stick in the lineup. From the fall of 2011 through the end of the 2014–15 campaign, Letang missed a total of 102 games—just over 30 percent of his club’s outings—due to various ailments. When he’s on the ice, Letang is as dangerous as they come, averaging 0.81 points per game during that time period, a mark that trumps every defenceman in the league save for Ottawa Senators whiz Erik Karlsson. But the production, no matter how prolific, tends to be a secondary storyline. “So many people think I’m fragile,” Letang says. On Jan. 29, 2014, the Penguins were scheduled to fly to Los Angeles for a game against the Kings. Letang’s house was a busy place that morning. His son, Alexander, was about 14 months old, and to help his then-girlfriend (now wife) Catherine care for him while Letang was gone, Catherine’s mom, Martine Landry, had come to town. Additionally, Letang’s mom, Christiane Letang, was in Pittsburgh to join the team on its cross-country flight as part of the Pens’ mothers’ trip. Shortly after waking up, Letang went into his bathroom and, out of nowhere, was overcome by a wave of dizziness. Though conscious, he required assistance from Catherine to exit the room. Nobody dialled 911 because Landry is a nurse. She figured Letang had likely experienced some kind of vasovagal episode. Essentially, that’s a fairly benign situation where the heart doesn’t pump at the proper rate for a moment, causing varying degrees of light-headedness before the body corrects itself. And when you’re looking at a 26-year-old pro athlete, even a medical professional is unlikely to think, “I wonder if he just had a stroke?” With the situation seemingly stabilized, Letang refocused on making his plane. The coming days were important to him because, as a child of divorce, he is close to his mom and desperately wanted her to both see him play and have a fun time with the other mothers. Their commute to the airport was a signal that those plans were in jeopardy. “I’m driving all over the highway,” he says. “I’m almost hitting the walls and the cars.” That harrowing experience aside, Letang was still feeling pretty much like himself after landing in L.A. The next day, following a conversation with team doctor Dharmesh Vyas, Letang was allowed to participate in the Penguins’ morning skate. “I let him go on the ice just to see how he skated around, and he was completely normal,” Vyas says.

Still, something wasn’t sitting right with the doc. Typically, the two men have a very relaxed relationship, but Letang seemed a little more stiff than usual. “That day, he was being somewhat formal with me,” says Vyas, “like, ‘Dr. Vyas’ this and ‘Dr. Vyas’ that.” Vyas told Letang he wasn’t going to let him play against the Kings. Then he called ahead to the Phoenix Coyotes—Pittsburgh’s next opponent on the road swing—to arrange an MRI. Vyas took Letang to the clinic then plunked down at a diner in suburban Scottsdale while his player was examined. Shortly thereafter, Vyas got a call from the radiologist, who told him Letang had sustained a stroke. The next conversation Vyas had to have was with a young man who, partially because of a language barrier, had pretty much no idea what the term even meant. “He asked me, ‘Am I going to die?’ and I said, ‘No, you’re not going to die,’” Vyas says. Despite the gravity of his question, it was only after Catherine broke down on the phone that Letang started to understand how much weight the word “stroke” could carry. Upon returning to Pittsburgh, Letang underwent a series of tests and was put on blood thinners. He was ordered to get plenty of rest and be mindful of small things like which type of lighting might agitate his condition. Under the watchful eye of Vyas and his staff, Letang began some light exercise and slowly ramped up from there. While his conversations with Vyas included understandable concern about the future, Letang largely kept a level head. “He had those moments, but I wouldn’t say they were in any way demoralizing for him,” Vyas says. “The whole time, he maintained a really strong perspective on what was going on, but also [remained] extremely optimistic that he was going to continue to play.” With three games remaining in Pittsburgh’s season, Letang—just a little more than two months removed from being helped out of his bathroom—returned to the Penguins lineup, then played 13 more playoff contests. Realizing the stroke easily could have sentenced him to a graver fate—including partial paralysis—Letang made a point to speak publicly about his experience before jumping back on the ice. “A lot of people want to keep their medical history to themselves,” he says. “As a 26-year-old, I was looking at it like, I’m an example of what can happen to a 13-year-old. I’m in a situation where I can actually send a message.” If the spring of 2014 was ultimately defined by healing, the spring of 2015 marked a frightening return to darkness. With just a couple of weeks remaining in the season, Letang caught his skate and was sent crashing to the ice and boards by Coyotes captain Shane Doan. With his previous concussions, Letang hadn’t felt any truly troublesome symptoms. This, however, was different. “That’s the one where I said, ‘This could be an issue, because the only thing I remember is waking up at the hospital,’” he says. Letang missed the rest of the season, including the playoffs. Though he returned this fall with a clean bill of health, an experience of that magnitude is impossible to completely shake off. “It’s always in the back of your mind,” Letang says. “Everybody is fighting for jobs out there. They’re not going to stop hitting you, even if you’ve had 10 concussions.” During Letang’s rookie season in 2007–08, Pittsburgh lost the Stanley Cup Final to the Detroit Red Wings. Twelve months later, the Penguins downed the Red Wings in a rematch to claim what many assumed would be the first of multiple championships. Now, more than six years removed from a title, Pittsburgh continues to search for the right mix. The blueline has been a soft spot for the squad, something that’s certainly less true when an ever-evolving Letang is there to anchor it. “The biggest thing for him is that he’s learned some patience,” says defender Rob Scuderi, now in his second stint with the Penguins. “The toughest thing for a defenceman with that much skill is learning that you can’t make a play every time. He’s gotten so much better at it.” He’s also had to make some off-ice alterations. Because of the stroke, Letang has to be extremely vigilant about getting more rest than the average person. The episode is frequently in his thoughts, especially during the weeks when he feels worn down for no specific reason. “I need to take care of myself more than ever if I want to last,” Letang says. The approach seemed to be paying off: No. 58 was in the lineup for every Penguins game through early December until an upper-body injury sidelined him temporarily. That’s still a good start for somebody who, despite all he’s been through, has never lost track of the big picture. “I don’t see myself as, ‘I went through everything in life,’” he says. “There’s always worse.” True, but he’s certainly entitled to hope for some better luck.