Blackhawks resign Byfuglien

“Hockey Is Life’’ reads a banner hanging at the Memorial Arena in Dustin Byfuglien’s hometown of Roseau, Minn., 10 miles south of the Canadian border.

The statement isn’t hyperbole for the 20-year-old Norfolk Admirals rookie, who has skated out of a difficult childhood and is on the cusp of an NHL career.

Raised by a single mother battling unpaid bills and factory work, Byfuglien (pronounced BUFF-lin) all but grew up in Memorial Arena. If the ice wasn’t available or he couldn’t talk his way into the play, he’d sit in the stands for hours, watching alone.

The boy was not interested in school, and academic ineligibility meant he never played for the storied Roseau High Rams. They’ve won six state championships since 1946, including a 1990 title run against bigger schools that is Minnesota’s hockey version of “Hoosiers.”

Left with all his pucks in one bucket, Byfuglien at age 17 took the only shot he had, leaving home for Canada and major junior hockey.

In Roseau, a city of about 2,800, there was skepticism about the kid’s future. If he couldn’t be bothered to make passing grades back home, how likely was he to apply himself up North?

But Byfuglien’s move panned out. The Chicago Blackhawks made the 6-foot-3 defenseman an eighth-round pick in the 2003 NHL entry draft, and two years later handed him a $300,000 bonus and a three-year contract and shipped him to Scope. In 25 Admirals games, he has five goals and 10 points and is rated a plus-2 .

With a few years of toil and a second contract, Byfuglien could be financially set for life. His childhood poverty means he pinches a penny harder than most Admirals, and his simple tastes run toward outdoor recreation and time with friends.

“I think he knew hockey was his salvation,’’ said Dale Smedsmo, a former Roseau High standout and pro player who has dated Byfuglien’s mother for three years. “School wasn’t easy for him, and he knew he had to make it in hockey. When he signed that contract, it was a personal victory because he’s worked very hard.’’

There’s plenty more work to come. Although a gifted skater, passer and shooter, Byfuglien needs to rid the baby fat from his 246-pound frame , play with consistency and refine his mental approach.

Simply put, the big youngster needs smarts and experience to go with eye-popping physical skill. It’s a common situation for rookies, who can either vault to the NHL or wither in the minors.

“We’re going to give him every means of getting better — skating coaches, personal trainers, nutritionists,’’ Admirals coach Mike Haviland said. “ If he wants it, and I think he does, Dustin could have a long NHL career.’’

Byfuglien’s mother, Cheryl, is a Roseau native and one of nine children. After high school, she headed to St. Cloud, Minn., to attend a beauty academy .

There she met Rick Spencer, a St. Cloud State University football standout. Cheryl Byfuglien, who is white, and Spencer, who is black, conceived Dustin but never married. Their son said he sees his father, a resident of the Minneapolis suburbs, occasionally and mainly in the summer.

Cheryl later married and divorced another man, but most of Dustin’s formative years were spent living alone with her in a trailer 40 yards behind his maternal grandparents’ Roseau home.

Cheryl’s father, Kenny, owned and drove for his long-distance hauling company, Byfuglien Trucking. Kenny’s house and Cheryl’s trailer were on the same property as the firm’s headquarters, 5 miles outside town on Minnesota Route 11.

As a teenager, Dustin often rode a snowmobile into Roseau proper . But in elementary and junior high school, he would beg for rides to Memorial Arena.

If practice started at 7 a.m., Dustin was waiting on the rink’s steps in the dark and bitter cold when it opened at 6. After school, he spent so much time in the 50-year-old building, which resembles a Quonset hut, that he had a concession-stand charge account.

If hot dogs and hot chocolate weren’t enough, the youngster would scoot across the street to the American Legion, where his grandmother, Crystal Byfuglien, ran charitable gambling games and worked in the kitchen.

Dustin got himself up most mornings, Cheryl having already left for her 5:45 a.m. shift as a forklift driver at the Polaris snowmobile plant, where she worked for 15 years. There was no money for nice clothes or cars or even a second-hand VCR.

“It was just hard, not to have a dad,’’ said Dustin, who credits his grandfather for showing particular interest in him. “After work, Mom was in a bowling league or snowmobiling or she had other stuff to do. I had to find rides and things to occupy myself. I was on my own.’’

Said Cheryl: “He’d ask for something, and all I could say was, 'Wouldn’t that be nice?’ We had some tough times, but I made sure he was taken care of before me.’’

There’s no charge for ice time at 2,500-seat Memorial Arena . However, the cost of hockey equipment can be daunting, and Cheryl usually needed a short-term bank loan to outfit Dustin. She rented his skates from a sporting goods store about 100 miles away in Grand Forks, N.D., the nearest town of any significant size.

Dustin thrived in hockey, garnering attention in a town where patrons of Nelson’s Cafe and the Guest House restaurant sometimes critique the town Peewee teams along with the high school squad.

On talent alone, Byfuglien seemed a lock to lead Roseau High to further glory. But academic ineligibility meant he never got to add to the legend of a program that has produced seven U.S. Olympians, seven NHL players and numerous college and minor league participants.

“After ninth grade, I really didn’t think about it anymore,’’ Byfuglien said. “Teachers were always yelling at me to pay attention, and I just kind of sat there. I wouldn’t participate or give an effort in nothing.’’

But hockey is life in Roseau and Byfuglien wanted to live, even if he couldn’t play for the Rams. He hooked on with a Chicago-area midget team and was spotted by Canadian junior scouts.

“The sad thing about Dustin and school is he’s not dumb, he just didn’t have the patience,’’ his mother said. “But when juniors drafted him, I told him it was time to fish or cut bait.’’

Young Americans playing Canada’s game on Canadian soil get a lukewarm reception at best, and Byfuglien’s skin tone made him a curiosity. But phone conversations with Smedsmo, his mother’s new boyfriend, helped him survive. He earned his G.E.D. diploma while away from home.

“I was one of the few people here who knew what he was going through,’’ said Smedsmo, a pro from 1971-79 who played for three World Hockey Association teams and four games with the NHL’s Toronto Maple Leafs. “He took a giant step and his complete demeanor changed. He was very quiet and withdrawn, but now he’s very social.’’

Mellow and pleasant, Byfuglien won’t be the one firing up the Admirals. But he’s working at becoming more intense and strives to improve his game and physical condition.

That means heading from practice to the weight room or the exercise bike, and eating salads and sensible sandwiches instead of junk food. After playing two seasons ago at an astonishing 276 pounds, Byfuglien has lost about 30 pounds and could stand to drop another 15.

“In terms of raw potential, he’s one of the best guys in the Chicago organization,’’ said Admirals assistant coach Rick Kowalsky. “But when he’s on, he’s really on and when he’s off, he really struggles.’’

Norfolk veterans have learned to get by on nights when their game goes south. They’re helping Byfuglien understand that end-to-end rushes and risky passes rarely work in the pros. At times, it’s almost an icy chess match, and the wrong move can lose a game.

That was apparent Oct. 29 against visiting Albany, when Byfuglien coughed up the puck at center ice, surrendering a shorthanded breakaway that produced the River Rats’ winning goal with less than two minutes to play.

“It took a couple days to finally get over that,’’ said Byfuglien, who wouldn’t answer Smedsmo’s calls on his cell phone for a week. “The game’s more compact in the pros; you can’t just run around.’’

Fans looking at Byfuglien’s size often expect him to steamroller opponents or hammer them in fights. But the defense-man plays more of a finesse style, combining extraordinary awareness and anticipation with mobility, passing and a rocket shot.

“There are nights he has to play 6-foot-3,’’ said Haviland, who wants the rookie to punish opponents in the corners. “We have to figure out what kind of player Dustin Byfuglien is going to be. A pure skill guy? Or a stay-at-home defenseman who can make a nice first pass but also knows when to send it off the glass and out of his end?’’

The progression is watched diligently by Byfuglien’s family in Roseau. Admirals game nights mean Cheryl and her parents converge on D & E Sports, an outdoor recreation store owned by Smedsmo. A pie from the nearby Pizza Ranch and some Diet Cokes often serve as dinner, with chocolate-covered peanuts for dessert.

One of the four counter-top computers is connected to streaming video of Norfolk’s game. Smedsmo, a former high school and college hockey referee, occasionally disagrees with the others over calls and jokingly moves 15 feet down the counter to watch another monitor.

“I know what we did was right, sending him off to do something with his talent,’’ said Cheryl Byfuglien, who cuts hair two days a month and lives with Smedsmo on a 258-acre island on Lake of the Woods, an hour northeast of Roseau. “Otherwise he was going to be stuck here in Roseau, stuck at the factory.’’

Instead, Dustin Byfuglien is trying to make the most of himself. Hockey is life. And for now, life is good.

Man I wish I had His card(hahahahaha just kidding but I am moving next month)