Jesus, Jocks, and the Jukebox

The Shero name is pretty prominent in the hockey world. Ray is a successful GM in the NHL, but it was his father (and my great uncle), Fred Shero who has had the most success. Fred died in 1990, one year before I was born, but I have spent a lot of time in my life reading up and researching what people thought of him, and from what I've found, he did some sweet things. But Fred was most well known for his stint as the Philadelphia Flyers head coach from 1971-1978, where he lead the Flyers to the Stanley Cup in the '73-'74, and '74-'75 seasons, and brought them to the finals two other years during his time as head coach. 

My great uncle Fred has made his mark in history with those Stanley Cup wins, and Ray Shero also has a Stanley Cup ring on his finger, but it is my grandfather, Victor Shero, who I will look up to for the rest of my life. 

My grandpa might have been the best man I'll ever know. One of my favorite memories of my life is looking back on the games of mini-stick hockey I played with him when I was a kid. Every time he came over, all I wanted to do was play mini-sticks with him. He would always use this wooden St Louis Blues goalie mini stick, and I would always give him a hard time because he couldn't shoot very well with it; it was as stiff as a board. He didn't care, he just loved playing with me.

As a kid, you think that adults always love playing with you no matter what you're doing. Now that I'm older, I realize that's probably not the case. But even today, I knew my grandpa loved it. He must've, since my grandpa would get down to his hands and knees and play mini-sticks with me and my endless supply of energy, even into his 80's. My grandma would warn him that he could hurt himself. But my Grandpa wasn't worried. He just wanted to play hockey with his grandson. 

Like most of the Shero's that I know of, my grandpa loved hockey. And I think the fact that I loved hockey so much too brought him a lot of joy. He would play hockey with me, watch hockey with me, and he loved watching me play hockey. When I first started out, he told me for every goal that I scored, he would give me a dollar (to this day, my Grandma keeps up my Grandpa's deal, and I love her for that). But as proud as my Grandpa was of me whenever he gave me a buck for a goal, I know the fact that he got to watch his grandson play made him even prouder. 

My Grandpa died in 2002, but I found myself laying in bed last night fighting back tears, thinking about how awesome he was, and how much he loved me. So, I thought I'd share a couple stories about my grandpa to tell about the kind of guy he was. I miss him a lot, and if your lucky enough to have a grandpa like mine, cherish every second of it.