An Asian-American athlete’s story

LOS ANGELES — His Caucasian features conspire to keep a secret. But get him on the ice rink and the legacy of his ancestors is revealed.

Caricatures of Asian dragons grace his helmet. The Japanese flag, with its simple red orb, hangs off the back of his uniform. Underneath his head gear are Katakana symbols for his name. On his right arm, more Japanese characters, the name of his son, Tyson. Former Carolina Hurricanes goaltender Jamie Storr wants to make sure you know that he is a descendant of a warrior aristocracy in Asia. His mother was born in Japan and had lived there until she was 28.

"When my mother passed away on my second year in the NHL, I wanted to do something out of respect for the dedication and sacrifice she gave to me," he says about the dragons on his helmet. "I feel very strongly about my heritage. I feel it’s something to be proud of, as opposed to being scared by it or inferior of it." Along with the Japanese flag on his uniform, Storr also bears the initials of his mother, Keiko. Her great grandfather, Storr’s great-great-grandfather, was a samurai.

While Storr, one of the four Asian-Americans in the NHL, appears to be very comfortable with his roots, this hasn’t always been the case. "I remember wishing I was just white. I look white, but I’m not just white," admits Storr who grew up in Brampton, Ontario. "Racism obviously appears regardless of age," he says, recalling an incident in school when he and another classmate were singled out by a thoughtless remark from a teacher that the class was not "all-white" because of them.

It may have taken him a while to accept the fact that he is half-Japanese, but it was his mother who continuously reminded him of the samurai blood that ran through him. "My mother always told me and my brother, ‘When negative things happen, you shouldn’t get upset. When anything seems tough or bleak, you realize that you have an extra special gift inside you, the strength of my mother’s grandfather,’" says Storr.

In every play off or face off on the ice, the samurai blood in him shines. He holds the hockey stick like a samurai holds his sword: with fierce determination to overcome adversaries. And this was evident even as he was growing up. Soon after he entered his first competitive league at the age of five, his young mind grasped the idea that hockey was more than just a winter sport. He could one day make it to the pros, but he had to be ready to give up some comforts and pleasures in his adolescent years. When other kids went out on group activities, socialized and partied, Storr was on the rink, practicing slap shots and goaltending. The only thing that made the sacrifices bearable was the support he got from his family. Growing up, he recalls how his parents had to make financial adjustments to buy his equipment.

"One choice I made early on in my life was to play hockey, to dedicate myself to the game and to getting better, into moving upward and onward," says the Wayne Gretzky fan.

Countless playoffs after, Storr made it to the ultimate destination of hockey stardom. In the1994 NHL draft, he was picked seventh in the first round by the Los Angeles Kings, the highest drafted goalie in Kings’ history, and was signed to a reported three-year, $2.6 million contract. "The reward is the financial freedom you get. It [hockey] has allowed me at a younger age to get some of the finer things in life. It’s basically given me everything I have in life," says the 28-year-old Storr.

He started as a superior backup with a potential for greatness. In a reserve capacity during his first eight seasons, he backstopped the hockey club to 73 wins, 59 losses, and 19 ties. When given the chance to start, he posted an 8-2-2 record in 12 games, with an impressive 1.82 goals against average. Like a samurai who would never bow down to defeat, this netminder simply refuses to lose, even when he faces not-so-cool times in his hockey career.

He held the longest tenure of any King, 1994-2003. But it was a period marred by inconsistencies, injuries, and disappointments on his part, as well as the Kings’ management’s. In the 2001-02 edition of The Sports Forecaster, it was noted: "The Kings’ first-round pick in 1994 has a golden opportunity to establish himself as the organization’s undisputed No.1 goaltender last season. But he failed the task miserably."

Storr admits there was a point in his career where he "stopped" playing. Although he was making a lot of money, he wasn’t doing anything during games. He just accepted the responsibilities he was being given, and there wasn’t much, save for a seat on the bench. That didn’t help his game one bit. The following year, The Sports Forecaster came out with the same observation: "Storr didn’t get much of an opportunity to finally meet expectations last season but posted excellent backup numbers. He has battled inconsistency throughout his pro career and tends to get down on himself after giving up soft goals. The Kings need to make a decision on Storr in the near future. While he likely won’t challenge Felix Potvin for the starting gig, he may finally find a new home with someone who’s willing to give him a shot at the No.1 job."

And the position of the No.1 goaltender is what Storr has now — albeit in the minors. When the Kings let him go in October, 2003, the Carolina Hurricanes signed him up as a free agent. But instead of playing back up to Kevin Weekes, the 6’ 2" netminder was sent down to the Lowell Lock Masters last February to play in the minors. "Realistically, you don’t want to step down just in case you can’t get back up," he once said about returning to the minors. Now his long-time fear stares him in the face, but he’s still playing it cool. "Sometimes when your biggest fear happens, you realize it’s not so bad. You can get over it." He says he’s just excited to play again and adds that it’s all about being part of the success of the team.

For Storr, ice hockey has been a lifelong, bittersweet love affair. Since age two, he trained to skate and shoot on the ice. In Canada, hockey is a big thing, and playing with the puck machine in the basement of his house was bonding time for Storr and his dad, Jim.

Amid disappointments, Storr recalls the most rewarding thing he ever got from playing the game. He recounts the incident in Los Angeles six years ago when he suited up for his first Stanley Cup playoff game. He played in front of 16,500 people at the Great Western Forum, and every time he made a save, the crowd rose to its feet and began chanting his name. "It was the best feeling I’ve ever had on ice. Even if you may only experience it once in your life, it gives you the satisfaction as well as the motivation to make it happen again," he describes.

Until then, he is enjoying the time he has now to raise a family. He says not even getting his name chanted by thousands of fans nor playing in the NHL will ever compare to the feeling he gets when he goes home and sees his kids smiling at him . And for Storr, none of his professional experiences would be worth anything if he didn’t have his wife, Nikki, to share it with. "If there’s no one to see you through memorable events," he says, "it almost seems like it didn’t happen. In the end, when everything has surpassed you, everything else has passed you by, the only things you’ll have are memories and your family."

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