Leg Amputation Doesn't Stop Hall-Southington Hockey Coach

WEST HARTFORD, CT — Following a game-winning goal by Hall-Southington in the final minute of overtime Monday at the Enfield Twin Rinks, the postgame handshake line at center ice featured all players and coaches from the Warrior Knights and their hosts from the Enfield-East Granby-Stafford co-op team. That is, all but one, as Hall-Southington head coach Brian Cannon remained at the gate to the players' bench, awaiting the arrival of Eagle coach Frank Genovese and the referees to sign the official game report.

Cannon was by no means exhibiting snobbery; rather, staying off the ice is a concession he has been forced to make following a major medical setback this summer, which resulted in the amputation of his right leg.

Now in his 10th season at the helm of the high school co-op team, a stretch in which his team made seven straight state tournament appearances and played in the 2017 Division III finals, the lifelong West Hartford resident ("I've moved about two blocks in my life") and 1980 Hall graduate began experiencing pain in his right hip about two years ago, causing him to stop skating in pickup games and filling in with a men's league.

"I skated for about a year in pain, and then it got to be too much and I couldn't do it anymore," Cannon said in an interview with Patch prior to Monday's game. "I just eked through the last two seasons, and was on the operating table within a week of the end of each season because I had so much hip pain."

In early April, he underwent an arthroscopic surgery procedure, and a biopsy yielded a diagnosis of Synovial Osteochondromatosis, a rare disease which causes calcified cartilage to form in the joints.

"That basically means instead of my joint producing synovial fluid, it was filling up with cartilage," he explained. "As soon as they cleaned it out, the process started back up, and as far as I know, they don't know what causes it. My hip joint was just grinding and tearing away constantly with that condition."

Hip replacement surgery was scheduled for July 26, but doctors abandoned the procedure when a tumor was discovered which had not been seen during previous arthroscopes.

"I woke up and saw a concerned-looking surgeon talking with my wife and sister, then I got a glimpse of an X-ray that didn't have a lot of shiny new hardware in it, so I knew I was screwed," Cannon said. "They had already cut off the head of my femur, so I spent a week in the hospital and three weeks at home with no hip joint, which was brutal. I had basically a dead leg; I couldn't even get in and out of bed on my own."

During that time, Cannon got second opinions from specialists at Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston and the Sloan Kettering Cancer Center in New York. When told his leg would need to be amputated to save his life, Cannon and his family reacted in highly unlikely fashion.

"When the surgeon gave us the news, my son immediately asked if we could make a lamp out of my leg," he recalled. "The doctor just folded his arms, put his head down and shook his head. I think he was stunned, because most people would be screaming and flopping on the floor, yet my family and I were laughing hysterically and making jokes." (A "leg lamp" mounted on a hockey skate was eventually created and given to Cannon; it is pictured below).

Following removal of his leg, hip joint and part of his pelvis, Cannon continued his gritty determination to make the best of his situation by working doggedly with physical therapists and other medical staff. "They figured I'd be in the hospital about a month, but I was out in two weeks," he said.

Gail Cannon, Brian's sister-in-law, organized a GoFundMe campaign to help make his house handicap-accessible and to create first floor living accommodations, as well as aiding his family with extensive medical bills. A goal of $50,000 was set; to date, the campaign has generated $92,550.

Cannon said numerous people, including former and current players, came to visit him during his recuperation period. He recalled, "A lot of people were afraid to come visit me because they thought I was going to be this pathetic Count of Monte Cristo curled up in a corner. It's just me - I just couldn't move right."

An alumni game took place Nov. 30 at Veterans Rink, bring together more than 60 former players ranging from the late 1970s through recent graduates. The idea was originally proposed as a fundraiser for Cannon, but the coach nixed that notion.

"I said it doesn't have to be a benefit, let's just have fun and have a great alumni night," he said.

The outpouring of support has furthered Cannon's already-strong will to keep moving forward.

"I have yet to even shed a tear for myself or my situation, because it's unproductive," he said. "I wanted to get over it, move forward and do the best I can. The only tears I've shed have been at people's generosity and support. I feel an obligation to them to do my best, to not let this stop me or slow me down any more. I can't let them down, I can't let my family down and I can't let myself down."

The decision to return to coaching this winter came with just a tiny smattering of doubt in Cannon's mind.

"After about a week, it was pretty apparent I was only going to be hobbled by this, but it wasn't going to completely transform me," he said. "It's transformed the way I have to go about things, but I'm still me. I can do what I have to do; it's just far more difficult now to make a meal, to take a shower, whatever. It just takes me forever, but I've learned a lot of patience through this."

Not being able to take the ice is clearly a big disappointment to the lifelong hockey devotee. Still, despite his limitations, he has helped guide his team to four straight victories following a season-opening overtime loss to Tri-Town. During the winning streak, the Warrior Knights have outscored opponents by a 20-7 margin.

"I do feel a little bit irrelevant here because I'm not out on the ice at practice and not on top of the bench during games," he said. "I have two great people coaching with me and carrying the load, and I'm more of an auxiliary piece. I'm there, but I'm not there like I'd like to be."

He has come to terms with his situation, and what might have been.

"The last two years, all I looked forward to was getting out on the ice and making a few hard strides. I thought with a hip replacement, most people are two to three months from getting out there, so I figured I was six weeks away from being at public skating, trying out my new hip.

"The whole plan changed."