Pages

Tuesday, November 20, 2018

Ian Edmondson doubles as blueliner and breadline anchor at Canisius

Photo Credit: Joe Van Volkenburg

Ian Edmondson is at his Sunday best when the bridge to downtown Buffalo connects his leading and listening sides.

The former gets its fill in his role as captain of the Canisius College men’s hockey team and as a student spearhead in the campus ministry. But through the Jesuit school’s Sandwich Ministry, the week’s traditional day of rest yields a refreshing, active change of pace.

The Sandwich Ministry is geared toward feeding Buffalo’s impoverished or otherwise less fortunate residents. As Canisius’ community-service officer on the Student Athlete Advisory Committee, Edmondson rose to a senior spot on the signature initiative.

This means overseeing a cluster of 15 students, with almost all of the personnel except Edmondson himself and graduate assistant Alex Tubridy changing each week. It also entails a dramatic turn of the page, punctuating the ever-busy college hockey weekend.

Between the first week of October and the start of March, the 2018-19 Golden Griffins have 12 regional Saturday games. That is, they are home at the HarborCenter or visiting crosstown rival Niagara or regional rival Rochester Institute of Technology.

Those are all close enough that Edmondson should have no trouble lending his presence to Sunday’s proceedings. It is always a timely diversion when he can make it.

“Participating actually helps you get away from your sport for a few hours and think about some of the bigger things in life,” he told Pucks and Recreation via phone this past week. “You kind of start facing a greater appreciation for your life.”

One moment almost did not grant Edmondson’s mind a thorough escape from hockey. During one mission when he was a junior, he came across a man ready to accept a beverage at the end of the line. Subsequent small talk began with queries as to the Golden Griffins’ season.

But then the man opened up about his employment struggles and the impact on his family. Dry eyes were all but a lost cause long before the parties dispersed.

“It got pretty emotional,” Edmondson recalled. “For him to share the troubles that he’s having with people that are caring for him, it was pretty moving.”

Coming to Canisius via Toronto, Edmondson brought comparable curriculum vitae of captaincies and community service. He frequented Habitat for Humanity projects with his family and joined fundraisers with his junior team, the St. Michael’s Buzzers. His four-year tenure with the Buzzers culminated with the “C” over his heart in 2014-15.

Upon bestowing the same responsibility to Edmondson this season, Griffins coach Trevor Large stated on the program’s website, in part, “Protecting our culture is everything.”

The broader Canisius culture leaves little separation between student, athlete and servant. Undergraduate enrollment sits barely below 2,600, and this year’s sports teams combine for 365 players.

That amounts to roughly 14 percent of the student body representing the brand in Division I competition. If the jocks are the true toast, one is rarely left in the dark from the stars’ radiant company.

“It’s all kind of part of the college experience,” Edmondson said. “At Canisius, student-athletes make up a big part of the school.”

Tubridy is anything but oblivious to the bonus that comes with spreading that celebrity wealth beyond campus. “Community members love to see college students with an interest in volunteer work,” he told Pucks and Rec via email. “Especially student-athletes, as they know how busy their schedules are.”

If no other aspects of the Canisius culture typify that notion, the Sandwich Ministry does. In any given week, the program’s one constant among student-ministers uses his SAAC connections to enlist eight representatives from a select sport. The rest of the roster consists of non-athletes pursuing required service hours, sometimes as part of a syllabus.
 
Photo courtesy of Canisius Athletics
 
The team convenes at 3 p.m in the campus chapel’s basement, where they devote 45 minutes to assembling the edibles. Ham or peanut butter and jelly are the common fillers, and cookies and hot chocolate are go-to side staples.

Tubridy says the average gathering awaiting the ministry ranges between 30 and 35, though Edmondson estimates 50. With that many recipients, the spread usually proves substantial enough to give everyone a variety pack of four sandwiches. Longer lines can hover around 75 locals, which still leaves an appreciable bounty to go around.

Beyond preparation in the chapel, 75 minutes typically take up the round bus trip and downtown distribution. At least a full hour is thus reserved for precious pleasantries.

Afterward, the bus doubles as the Sandwich Ministry locker room. Edmondson and Tubridy will trade feedback with the week’s team to inform their game plan going forward.

“There’s a lot of similarities in those two jobs,” Edmondson said of captaining the icers and orchestrating the meal drives. “You have to be very direct that there are certain expectations to be met. Making sure people are showing up on time and things run along smoothly.”

Naturally, out-of-state road trips on the hockey schedule will render Edmondson a healthy scratch on some Sundays. But he always makes a point of establishing the lineup and schedule for those on tap for Tubridy.

“This is an experience that many of these students could easily miss out on if not for Ian’s efforts to coordinate them,” Tubridy remarked.

In that sense, Large could have been speaking for the Sandwich Ministry when he prophesied Edmondson’s on-ice reliability.

“Ian will lead the way as captain,” Large stated in the press release unveiling the Canisius captains, “and he will lean on the rest of the team to lead when they are called upon.”

There is even a friendly gravy-drizzled stake for the hockey team. Edmondson is up for the 2019 Lower’s Senior CLASS Award, and his candidacy page alludes to the Golden Griffin Cup. The Canisius sports team that logs the most community-service hours in the academic year earns the bragging rights.

“Ever since my freshman year,” Edmondson said, “we’ve had a very strong push for being involved in the community.”

Then again, with the weekly enlistment of non-skating Griffins for the Sandwich Ministry, he helps his competitors as well. But it is all still in the name of Canisius, and Edmondson is expressly trying to uphold the standards of a man locals have called “Mr. Canisius.”

When Edmondson was a sophomore, senior associate campus minster Joe Van Volkenburg garnered the One Buffalo Community Award. The monthly prize bequeathed by Sabres owners Terry and Kim Pegula and yields a donation to a charity of the recipient’s choosing.

Before shifting his focus to local high schools, Van Volkenburg worked at Canisius, his alma mater, for almost a quarter-century. During his overlap with Edmondson, he oversaw the Sandwich Ministry and equivalent projects built on burritos and soup.

Edmondson joined fellow pucksters on Van Volkenburg’s shuttle to Buffalo soup kitchens, and learned from him to “be there mentally.” That aspect is the key to ensuring the volunteers nourish psyches as well as stomachs in need.

“This is important for these people’s lives,” Edmondson said. “You need to engage and talk with them. They may be going through a tougher time than you think.”

Tuesday, November 13, 2018

Meet the Press: Mark Binetti goes from bands to booths


Photo by Mike Wolforth, submitted by Mark Binetti
 
Mark Binetti did not stay in his first sports-related trade long enough to experience ludicrous geographic misnomers. Nor did he come to his new calling in time for the most outlandish of the same in another game.

In South Dakota since 2013, he joined the rest of the Rapid City Rush in transferring from the Central Hockey League to the ECHL in 2014. By then, it had been 11 years since their new abode ceased to answer to the name East Coast League. Although, the sport’s topmost “Double-A” entity had stopped living up to that exclusive-sounding moniker ages prior.

Come what may, the former pep-bander and current play-by-play broadcaster is living his share of carry-overs. He is living the bus life for 12 of the 26 weeks on the 2018-19 regular-season docket. The majority of those road trips are the culmination of a week’s worth of preparation.

The Rush’s destinations for 2018-19 are Idaho, Indiana, Kansas, Michigan, Missouri, Ohio, Oklahoma, Texas and Utah. They will also entertain visits from the Atlanta Gladiators and Florida Everblades, but not reciprocate the journey.

Travel-wise, this regimen evokes Binetti’s football marching-band days at the University of South Carolina. Besides his school’s own state, he saw action in seven others: Alabama, Arkansas, Florida, Georgia, Kentucky, Mississippi and Tennessee.

Entertaining the throngs of the sinewy Southeastern Conference, he made it to eight of 11 opposing stadiums. (He graduated two years before Missouri and Texas A&M upped league membership to 14.) He only missed out on Auburn, Louisiana State and Mississippi State.

“It was a blast,” he told Pucks and Recreation with maximum emphasis. “Seeing how different stadiums and bands did things was eye-opening. And as long as the Gamecocks didn’t have a rough go, the football wasn’t bad either.”

By comparison to what Binetti has now, neither was the mileage. Spared the SEC’s spill beyond the Southeast proper, he joined the Rush for what proved an unexpected CHL swan song.

But barely being in the Mountain, Rapid City itself was one of the circuit’s exceptions to its title time zone. Its 10 teams ranged as far east as Brampton, Ont., for that 2013-14 campaign.

Today’s 13-member ECHL Western Conference boasts a similar geographic spread. Being the third-farthest west, the Rush cannot help charging up four-figure miles one way on some trips.

Contrast that with the 764 miles separating USC from its most distant Binetti-era SEC rival, Arkansas. Or with the fact that the Rush take twice as many annual rides as the Gamecock footballers.

But as with his belated entry into broadcasting as a whole, Binetti benefited from starting small.

“Looking back on it, it really prepared me for what I do now,” he said. “The travel in college football isn’t nearly as rigorous as what we go through in Rapid City. But we bus everywhere with the Rush, and there’s a routine on the road you need to get into to prepare and such. So it prepared me quite well, I think.”
Photo submitted by Mark Binetti
 
Timely crossovers

Binetti was born in New York, the second of three brothers, and lived in the metropolitan area through eighth grade. For the bulk of that time, music was his extracurricular lifeblood.

The piano, which his mother and maternal grandfather both mastered, was a mandated starting point. Two years of that spawned a web of skills, which Binetti transferred to self-taught clarinet lessons.

“It was a release,” he said. “It was something that allowed me to be a part of something bigger in a band, and was just so much fun.”

In his final year living in New Jersey, Binetti was an all-state musician in his newfound specialty. When his family moved to North Carolina, the accolades snowballed at Charlotte Catholic High School. As a sophomore, he cracked the 2004 South Central All-District Band.

He followed that with repeat appearances on the Charlotte Youth Wind Ensemble as an upperclassman. As a junior, he attended the 2005 Winthrop University Invitational Clinic just south of the state border.

Back at Charlotte Catholic, he broadened his horizons and attained the marching band’s drum-major position. In between, he built on his appetite for more of the same in college with another trip to South Carolina.

On Nov. 12, 2005, Binetti accompanied a friend to the Gamecocks football game against 12th-ranked Florida. His first live look and listen at USC’s legendary “Mighty Sound of the Southeast” sweetened a 30-22 upset.

“After that,” he said, “I did my research into the band, and talked to an old high school friend that was there. After meeting with some of the graduate assistants, and taking a tour of the university, I was hooked.

As one of 360 students in the Carolina Band, and specializing in the trombone, Binetti devoted nine hours to rehearsal in a typical school week. At the Saturday culmination, preparation would start as early as 6 a.m., depending on kickoff time.

Binetti would rise to be the captain of his instrument’s section. He also had his major in biological sciences to think about. But the literal payoff for his musical dedication substantially alleviated the cost of the curriculum.

Concomitant with Binetti, Dr. George A. Brozak arrived at USC in the autumn of 2006. A former Star Trek TV writer, Brozak assumed the position of director of athletic bands, and instituted a wave of scholarships and stipends. Among other perks, Binetti garnered a scholarship specific to the clarinet in the university’s concert band.

“Doc’s mindset behind it was to grow the base of the band simply by rewarding them for their sacrifice,” Binetti said. “It seems easy to say that, but to actually follow through with it meant a good deal to those of us in the program in his three seasons.” 

Brozak has since moved on to other institutions, but Binetti attests to his long-lasting mark at USC. Ditto the late Jim Copenhaver, who directed USC’s band program at large for 35 years, retiring the year Binetti graduated.

Copenhaver’s tenure transcended the university’s rise to prominence among pigskin pep bands. To that point, in September 2017, USA Today ranked the “Mighty Sound” third among its top 10 college football introduction shows.

“Mr. Copenhaver was an incredible individual who just loved music, and loved teaching it,” Binetti said. “So many of the people I was in the band program with went to USC just because of him. They knew they’d be world-class musicians or music educators simply because he was the director of bands. He was loved by everyone in the music community.”

Copenhaver died at age 71 in November 2014, Binetti’s sophomore season as the Rush announcer.

“The impact of his passing was felt nationally,” Binetti said.

Besides his collegiate family, Binetti’s bloodline savored finales of their own during his senior season. For his final performances at Williams-Brice Stadium, his grandparents traveled from New Jersey for their first live glimpse of college football.

Business-like as usual that day, Binetti now admits he sacrificed a little enjoyment of family antics at the pre-game tailgate. With a noon game time, it was one of those 6-a.m. last-minute tune-up sessions.

“Sadly, I was blissfully ignorant to my grandfather roasting my dad for everyone cooking in trailers and on mini-grills with these gigantic spreads,” he said. “But hearing my dad recap it all was absolutely hilarious. My grandfather passed away four years after that game, so it was definitely special to look back on.” 

As it happened that day, the Gamecocks doubled up on intrastate rival Clemson, then ranked 15th in the nation, 34-17. Their other home win over a ranked team (No. 4 Mississippi) that year marked the beginning of South Carolina’s “Sandstorm” custom.

In the decade since, the stadium DJ has routinely given the band a breather and aroused a rave-like rally with the Darude classic. The ensuing visual, complete with white towels for every spectator, is not unlike that of a professional hockey playoff crowd.
 
Photo submitted by Mark Binetti

Invincible ambition

Hearing Binetti summarize the story of his rise to the Rush booth vaguely evokes Vince Papale.

Like the unlikely NFL walk-on immortalized in cinema by Mark Wahlberg, Binetti logged a little time on a gridiron. But to crack the competitive ranks of pro hockey play-by-play, one might assume, he must have called action in college.

Yet if someone asked him where he called his college puck, he would say he didn’t call college puck. In fact, he called no athletic action whatsoever as an undergraduate. That is how mighty a commitment the “Mighty Sound” was.

The Carolina Band was also expected to be the grand finale of Binetti’s involvement of sports. After he graduated in 2010, he was supposed to pursue medicine. After all, his mother, both maternal grandparents and one uncle have all worked in the field.

But then there was Jason Shaya, his fellow transplant from the northern U.S. to the Carolinas. While Binetti was a senior in Columbia, Shaya was in his third year broadcasting the ECHL team in Binetti’s adoptive city of Charlotte.

Hailing fron Michigan, Shaya had also gone to a hockey-free university (Madonna in the Detroit suburbs). After working as a sports producer with his local NBC affiliate, he enjoyed play-by-play stints with short-lived Detroit- and Chicago-area teams in the now-defunct United League. With more bountiful offerings at the de facto Double-A level in “non-traditional” markets, he found the Charlotte Checkers in 2007.

Binetti had been in town since 2002, and had taken an easy shining to the Checkers. For the better part of their 17-year ECHL run, they were affiliated with his beloved New York Rangers.

Acting on a belated craving for a sports-oriented career, Binetti reached out to Shaya in 2010. Their initial discussion left him disillusioned, and he turned to Chicago, where his brother works as an anestheologist. But a lack of openings up his presumed alley turned him back to Charlotte and, for a time, back to college football.

“My brother had a friend that was a production assistant at ESPNU,” he said, “and said they needed loggers to watch games and help them cut highlights. After about two weekends on the job, I realized that I loved it too much to not try and see it through in sports.”

By this point, the Checkers brand had been promoted to the AHL. One of the few personalities to withstand the overhaul, Shaya accepted Binetti’s bid for a rebound.

The Checkers’ younger broadcasting brother started as a statistician and storyline builder. He then broke onto the air by filling in pre-game, post-game and intermission segments. From there, he started taking cracks at play-by-play, applying lessons he had absorbed through up-close observation during ESPNU football productions, during the second periods of home games.

“Once I got the opportunity at ESPNU, and got my first air time with the Checkers, I just knew this is what I needed to do for the rest of my life,” he said.

After two years under Shaya’s wing and a slew of go-nowhere applications to teams in Junior A, major junior and minor pro, Binetti received Shaya’s greatest assist for their last shift in Charlotte. While working at a Wells Fargo bank to supplement his income, he heard of Rapid City’s vacancy from his mentor.

In less than a month, he dished up his demos, pressed with continued interest, got the job and moved back north. He arrived in his new South Dakota home the day 2013 training camp commenced.

“The rest, as they say, is history,” he said.

Photo by Mike Wolforth, submitted by Mark Binetti
 
‘…the same between both worlds’

All of the crowds surrounding Binetti have plummeted in sheer volume since he shot up to South Dakota’s Mountain edge. He is apt to note that, at a capacity eclipsing 80,000 spectators, Williams-Brice Stadium at USC could more than fit Rapid City’s population, which is estimated at under 75,000.

The difference between those figures almost amounts to the Rushmore Plaza Civic Center’s capacity of 5,119. Naturally, Binetti’s audience is not in that seating bowl, but an unquantified figure beyond the building.

Regardless, the number of people standing by his side has drained from 359 to one. Only a rotation of color commentators will blend another voice in with his output for the listeners.

That aside, he says, “I’d argue that there are more parallels than differences” between the band and the booth.

“If there’s one difference, it’s that you can’t really rehearse broadcasts,” he continued. “Sure, you can have meetings on what you’re going to say and how you’re going to say it, storyboarding pregame shows and such. But you can’t ever really script and practice anything.

“Plus, if you do, it comes across as inauthentic, and it kills your credibility as a broadcaster. So much of what we say, how we react, and the emotion that goes into and comes out of broadcasting is spontaneous.”

Even a reprise of old patterns can catch Binetti off guard. His two years as Shaya’s intern in Charlotte marked an instant immersion in AHL-caliber hockey. Unlike the lower levels, nearly every player is a protected prospect, and arguably matches the skill of overseas major leaguers.

Granted, the preceding Checkers had just logged 17 seasons in Double-A before giving way to the new edition. But Binetti had not seen as much of them since going to USC. While he was there, he was so absorbed in bands and biology that he also missed out on another ECHL team, the neighboring Columbia Inferno.

The Inferno would fold in 2008, after Binetti’s sophomore year. He partly regrets failing to catch their games because their mascot, Blaze, was portrayed by one of his fraternity brothers. In addition, defenseman Justin Sawyer played in Columbia during Binetti’s freshman year, then on the first Rush team Binetti worked with.

About that team: Rapid City granted Binetti a blast back to Double-A, albeit in the Central League to start. He figured he was in for a spectacle a little closer to Slap Shot than the “A” will ever produce.

“I thought I was in for a huge change in pace and speed,” he said, “and was surprised to see how wrong I was. The CHL was very physical, very veteran-laden. But it was a great league to break into the professional ranks with.”

Nonetheless, it was on thin ice at the time. Membership whittled from 10 teams to nine early in the 2014 offseason. Arizona and Denver’s teams, both languishing in the ever-pivotal attendance column, then withdrew for the approaching campaign.

With only seven active chapters to speak of, the Central League gave out and latched on to a welcoming ECHL. The Rush, who had always stayed within the 4,000 attendance range, were properly rewarded by the rescue. And a mere 10 days after the late-coming merger was announced, Binetti was back behind their mic.

Upon stretching his Rapid City tenure to five years this past spring, he has stayed at the same base longer than anywhere else since his days as an all-state middle-school musician and long-term in-the-making medicine man in New Jersey.

In that span, he has discovered gratifying quantities of leisure time and attractions to fill it with. He has taken up adult-league hockey and softball, joined Knights of Columbus and kept his voice sharp in the summer via American Legion baseball broadcasts.

But he has yet to add pure-sport percussions or winds to that mix. “It kills me that I haven’t been able to,” he admits. “I dust off the instruments every now and then and practice, but it’s really been a long time.”

That does not, however, mean he is letting his inner musician log mothballs. His second-nature instincts from the metropolis and the Carolinas get ample new use in his vocation.

“I liken calling a game to sight-reading music,” he said. “The pressure of people listening to you, the amount of preparation needed to be successful at both music and calling a hockey game and the performance ‘game-face’ mentality are all the same between both worlds.”

Friday, November 9, 2018

Clair DeGeorge to the third power: School, sport and Rubik’s on the side


Clair DeGeorge, who likes to take a minute before game time to align a Rubik’s Cube, has also translated her ceberal prowess in more meaningful ways.

(Photo courtesy of BSU Photo Services)
 
It all started when Clair DeGeorge sought a much-needed time-killer.

Fast-forward five years, and open season on her agenda is a distant memory. Free moments are now an endangered species, as they are wont to become for a Division I student-athlete.

Fortunately, the Bemidji State women’s forward and U.S. national team prospect who cites the Rubik’s Cube as her top hidden talent has struck a regulatory compromise. Knowing her limits, she has mastered her personal ceiling with a 58-second completion.

Even on the relatively relaxed 3-by-3-by-3 variant she prefers, that pales in comparison to the world record. This past May, Australian prodigy Feliks Zemdegs revised his Guinness entry by ordering the six colors in 4.221 ticks.

Still, it makes for a perfect pregame routine, one that gives her sticks a longer breather before ice time arrives. When others might squeeze in some last-minute dryland puckhandling rehearsal, DeGeorge organizes the color-coded nine-member teams.

“It’s more to get my wrists a little bit warmed up,” she explained to Pucks and Recreation. “At this point I usually just do it based on supersitition.”

Given the time of the Rubik’s Cube’s arrival in her life, its lasting side role explains itself. An Anchorage, Alaska, native, DeGeorge first came to Minnesota to enroll as a ninth-grade student at Shattuck-St. Mary’s School. There she would test her on-ice potential in the program that produced four gold-medal Pyeongchang Olympians in Brianna Decker, Amanda Kessel, Jocelyne Lamoureux and Monique Lamoureux.

She would also undertake an upgrade in academic rigor at the state’s sole boarding school. And yet, she recalls, “I had a lot of time on my hands” in that 2013-14 school year.

All of SSM’s hockey teams (five boys’ and two girls’) function as a travel program. This entails a six-month schedule split between home dates and coach bus trips to action-packed weekends.

While on the 16-and-under team, DeGeorge found her new road-trip and general downtime diversion. “A couple of my teammates taught me their ways of being able to get the patterns down,” she said. “After a lot of practice, I just got to doing it pretty fast.”

Not that she is prepared to sprint head-on into her boundaries. The conventional variants on a Rubik’s Cube range in six sizes, all classified by cubes per row and column. To date, DeGeorge has mastered the de facto Level II out of six.

The highest basic size, 7-by-7-by-7, is an admitted reach. Moreover, she resists the playful pushing of fellow BSU Beavers who send her viral videos of stunt speedcubers.

“I never want to try it blindfolded,” she said in reference to one of the most common challenge upgrades. Ditto tackling a cube under water, using a single hand, using one’s feet or juggling the toy in the process.

But concomitant with her cubing discovery, DeGeorge found more meaningful ways of translating her cerebral prowess. With SSM running its middle school through ninth grade, she was in contention for that level’s top grade-point average in 2013-14. She was taken aback upon learning she had retained the highest mark at year’s end.

“It was never really on my mind,” she said. Nonetheless, the achievement did impel her to “reevaulate” her capabilities.

By the time she was a high-school junior, the same year she made Team USA’s 18-and-under select squad, DeGeorge was on SSM’s cum laude list. As a senior, she collected one award apiece in academics, athletics and service and citizenship.

Those were all payoffs for substantial investments and sacrifices of time, mind you.

“Balancing the two is the hardest,” she said. “It’s hard to be studying and working on your athletics and knowing that all your friends are out having fun. When the day is done, you realize you haven’t had time to talk to everyone you wanted to.”

Ice-wise, DeGeorge caught her biggest break on the heels of her holiday respite from school in 2016-17. Making the cut for the 18-and-under national squad at the World Junior Championship, she went to the Czech Republic for the first half of January.

She would chalk up five assists in as many tournament games, including the primary helper on the icebreaker in a 3-1 win over Canada for the gold. But with a winter trimester fast folding back at her home away from home, reality waited to hit hard.

“I spent the rest of the semester in the library,” she said. “You just have to pick and choose what your priorities are and figure out the rest.”

Within four months of that whirlwind, DeGeorge was summoned to the stage three times at SSM’s year-end awards ceremony. Among her accolades, the academic jewel came for attaining the highest marks in science. She has carried that credential over to a concentration in nursing studies at BSU.

Since she moved upstate and enrolled in college, a little of “the rest” is the Rubik’s Cube once again. And DeGeorge is not ruling out a future crack at the four-by-four-by-four variant.

“Maybe someday,” she mused, “if I can get a lot of time on my hands.”