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Sunday, November 11, 2001
Bumstead's joy and pain
Popular former IceRay finding new meaning in life away from the rink and the game he loves
By Richard Tijerina

Caller-Times

Caller-Times file photo

Former IceRay Geoff Bumstead says that while he still loves hockey, he has no intentions of returning to the IceRays in the near future.

Geoff Bumstead's eyes, the same eyes that once looked so intense when he was menacing opponents on the ice at Memorial Coliseum, seem soft and warm when pressed up to his daughter's face.
   Two-month-old Danika Bumstead has done what no one else could. She has helped transform Bumstead - who captured a city's hockey hearts with his brash, rough and sometimes bruising play as a forward for the Corpus Christi IceRays - into a 29-year-old working man, husband and father who no longer spits and screams profanities on the ice, but instead talks . . .
   Baby talk?
   Yes. The enforcer who was the Western Professional Hockey League's unanimous choice for best fighter in 1999 loves his baby, and when she flashes him her baby blues, he melts.
   "She likes to watch hockey," Bumstead dotes, his daughter wearing a white bow around her bald head. Bumstead's wife, Shannon, refers to Danika's hairdo (or the lack thereof) as 'the Bummer hairline.'
   "She likes golf better," Shannon Bumstead says.
   "Good," he says. "That's a non-contact sport."
   This is the new Geoff Bumstead, the once - and possibly future, who knows? - IceRay.
   He has turned in his skates and stick for this, a world without hockey, without celebrity, a world that revolves around his wife and daughter, his 9-to-5 job and a Winnie the Pooh diaper bag.
   Life without the IceRays is a dream sometimes. And a nightmare. For Bumstead, these really are the best of times and the worst of times.
   Saying goodbye
   Bumstead, who was voted the Western Professional Hockey League's best fighter in 1998-99 and was a finalist for its Most Valuable Player award in 1999-2000 after leading the league in scoring, has decided not to play hockey for the IceRays.

Michelle Christenson/Caller-Times

Former IceRay Geoff Bumstead, with daughter Danika, is spending his time working at Vista Chevrolet and being a family man rather than punishing opponents on the ice.

   His reason? He still loves the game, he still loves the city, and he still loves the fans. But he is unhappy with the team's upper management, including former coach and now general manager Taylor Hall, and president Bill Davidson, so unhappy that it's enough to make him stop playing, he said.
   "I love the game of hockey. I could play five more years, very easily," Bumstead said. "But I won't put on an IceRays jersey again with Bill Davidson and Taylor Hall running this team. I'm at the point right now where I don't want my name associated with IceRays management."
   Nicknamed "Bummer," Bumstead's familiar No. 99 jersey and style of play are sorely missing from the Coliseum this year, some fans said.
   "No Bummer. Now that's a bummer," Adrian Gonzalez said. "It looks like the team needs him and I wish he were still playing. Even if the team wasn't doing good, watching him play and fight made it better."
   Another fan, Paul Sanchez, when asked at a recent IceRays game whether Bumstead's absence would hurt the team, said, "Please don't remind me that he's even gone. I just pretend that he changed jersey numbers sometimes."
   Leaving his mark
   Bumstead's name is peppered throughout the IceRays' record book. He holds individual season records for assists, points and game-winning goals, and a single-game record for assists.
   No one has played more games as an IceRay than Bumstead, who played in 196 games - 61 more than the next closest player, Kurt Wickenheiser, entering this season.
   He is the team's all-time leader in assists (153) and total points (238), and is tied for second all-time in goals scored (63).
   Still, Hall said, the IceRays no longer wanted him.
   "Sometimes the truth hurts, but we didn't really want Geoff Bumstead to play," Hall said. "We just didn't think he could get the job done anymore. Last year, his play dropped off from the year before. Sometimes, guys lose their hunger."
   Last year, Bumstead played in 60 games, scoring 19 goals with 34 assists.
   "You talk to any guys on the team," Bumstead said. "I don't think there'd be a bad word said about me."
   Bumstead's presence on - and off - the ice is missed, said IceRays defenseman Byron Pool.
   "The biggest thing about having Geoff in the lineup is the space he creates on the ice for you," Pool said. "Anytime you have one of the toughest guys in the league skating on your wing, it sort of gives the more finesse players a little bit more room to move out there. Geoff would look great in an IceRay uniform right now."
   But he refuses to wear one.
   "Today, I ate at Chili's. Four different people came up to me," he said. "One asked why I wasn't playing, and three asked me if I am ready for the game tonight."
   'I'm my own man'
   He hasn't been on the ice since the IceRays were eliminated from the Western Professional Hockey League playoffs in Tupelo. He still has two pairs of skates at home, but he doesn't use them. This is the first time in 25 years that he isn't playing hockey.
   "I'm my own man," Bumstead said. "I make my own decisions."
   He still looks much the same. He's still Geoff Bumstead. He's solid, whether he is in his pads and uniform with a stick in hand, bearing down upon you to slam you against the boards, or now, decked out in a dress shirt and slacks, talking about marketing and sales.
   His signature goatee and shaved head still are with him. And he's still tough - not because he gets into bloodied fights with opponents, but more because he has chosen family over the sport he loves.
   He now is in the world of marketing, not hockey. He's an opportunity development manager for Vista Chevrolet, putting his Cornell University education to good use.
   To the future
   All Bumstead wants - for now, anyway - is to be a father. A good one. Everything else, from the lawsuit against Davidson to this first season of the CHL to watching his former team go on without him, will take care of itself, Bumstead said.
   "The passion's still there. I went to one exhibition and I could barely watch," Bumstead said. "People kept coming up and I thought, 'Oh! They want to see me. Here they come for an autograph.' Instead, it was 'Where's your daughter?' It definitely changes your life, that's for sure.
   "I do have another life, but hockey still fires through my blood," he said.
   Bumstead's life has changed. He played here. He was married here. His daughter was born here. But will he play again here?
   Part of him may want to say yes, but Bumstead, at least for now, is saying no.
   And if you look into his eyes when he's saying it, you believe him.


Contact Richard Tijerina at 886-3745 or tijerinar@caller.com

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