Hockey is more than a game for Mark DeMontis.

After more than a decade of dreaming about a career in pro hockey, a sudden diagnosis transformed DeMontis into a different kind of player.

As a result, the sport evolved into a way for him to break down barriers and create a community for people with disabilities.

“I used to picture hockey as a high-performance sport that was preparing me for a career,” says the 26-year-old. “Now I look at it as a game that we as Canadians celebrate and use as a way to learn more about people.”

Nearly 10 years ago, DeMontis was a 17-year-old playing Triple-A hockey and dreaming of an NCAA scholarship. He had a driver’s licence and was voted student council president.

Then he was diagnosed with Leber’s optic neuropathy, a rare eye condition where central vision is lost. Today, DeMontis is legally blind and has only peripheral vision.

“It’s like playing with a very foggy half-visor. It’s very difficult to see through,” he explains.

The diagnosis was devastating. The young athlete’s dreams of playing pro were over.

“I went from being a very confident, athletic individual to someone with low self-esteem, someone who gained a lot of weight, was eating unhealthy,” DeMontis said.

The Weston native went off to university, studying media at Western, but he continued to struggle with his diagnosis, falling into depression.

“I didn’t know how to handle it,” DeMontis said.

Eventually he decided he could do more than sit around and feel sorry for himself. He decided he wanted to make a difference in the world — and he wanted to do it through hockey.

Recognizing there was no organization geared toward getting blind and partially sighted people on the ice, skating and playing hockey, DeMontis decided to create one.

But first, he needed to fundraise.

In 2009, DeMontis strapped on some inline skates and started a cross-Canada trek to raise money for his new charity, Courage Canada. He skated 5,000 kilometres from Toronto to Vancouver, through bad weather, across rough roads and battling mental exhaustion.

“Every kilometre I skated felt like I was one stride closer to the dream coming true,” DeMontis said.

But the finish line in Vancouver was just the beginning.

Next, DeMontis and his Courage Canada team had to get to work setting up programs where blind and partially sighted kids could learn to skate and play hockey.

Over the past five years, about 500 kids coast to coast have taken part in the clinics. For many, it’s the first time they’ve ever put on skates.

“It gets emotional for me, when I see a kid who gets told every day by their peers that they can’t accomplish anything, to see them get on a pair of skates and have the courage to get on the ice for the first time,” says DeMontis, who today lives a fairly normal life.

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The two things he says he can’t do are read or drive. But he still plays hockey with his sighted friends and joins them to cheer on his beloved Maple Leafs.

Creating friendship is a huge part of Courage Canada, DeMontis says, smiling as he talks about a young girl who had trouble making friends when she came to a Courage Canada program recently. Soon after hitting the ice, she struck up a friendship with another visually impaired girl her age.

Each child who attends a clinic gets a Courage Canada jersey, making them feel like they’re part of a team, working alongside other kids their age who are facing the same obstacles.

“We don’t put these programs on to prepare players for the NHL,” DeMontis says. “We put these programs on because it gives kids an opportunity to interact with each other.”

Courage Canada is also trying to get adults on the ice, spearheading the spread of blind hockey.

Several Canadian teams have been playing blind hockey for decades, with a large noise-making disc replacing the traditional puck so players can use their hearing instead of sight. Players with very little or no vision usually play defence or goalie, and goals can only be scored in the bottom three feet of the net.

To someone watching from the stands, blind hockey looks very similar to sighted hockey, DeMontis says.

“A lot of players like myself had vision and lost it at some point,” he explains. “So it doesn’t affect their skating, they still have their mechanics.”

Courage Canada is bringing the formally separate teams together and helping to standardize the sport, with one set of rules and equipment. The organization will show off their work when they host their second blind hockey tournament March 21-23, featuring 65 players from across the country.

“All we’re trying to do is bring together people who face the same situation, who love the game, to realize that they’re not alone,” says DeMontis, who also hosts a sports show on Accessible Media Inc.

But his dreams for blind hockey aren’t confined to Canada’s borders. He wants to see the sport in the Paralympics one day, and plans to lead the way by sharing his own story and inspiring other people with disabilities to do the same.

“I think the more I can share with Canadians and people around the world about what I’ve personally dealt with, it’s a good thing,” DeMontis said.

“There are so many other people out there that deal with the same issues, and if I don’t speak up about it, who will?”