Mario Lemieux: The Life Story Behind Hockey's Magnificent One

Mario Lemieux played hockey as if the ice belonged to him and the puck was simply waiting for his permission to move. He was tall, calm, and almost slow-looking at times, until the moment he decided to go, and then no one could catch him. Defenders who had played against the fastest players in the world found themselves reaching for air when Lemieux turned, because his reach was so long, his hands were so soft, and his mind was so far ahead of the play. People called him the Magnificent One, and also Super Mario, and both names fit, because he made the hardest parts of hockey look easy, and he did it while carrying pain, illness, and the weight of a whole team on his back.

He was born on 5 October 1965 in Montreal, Quebec, into a working-class French-Canadian family. His father Jean-Guy worked in construction, his mother Pierrette kept the home, and Mario grew up with two older brothers, Alain and Richard, in a small house where hockey was played in the basement as much as on the ice. His father built a rink in the basement, with a net and a puck, and the boys played there for hours, learning to handle the puck in a tight space, to shoot quickly, and to protect it with their bodies. That basement rink became famous in hockey stories, because it explains so much about Lemieux. He learned his skills in a small room, where there was no space to waste, and where every touch had to be perfect.

What makes his story different from almost any other hockey story is that he did not just save a team on the ice. He saved it off the ice too, by buying it when it was bankrupt, and then he came back to play for the team he owned. He retired, he returned, he won Olympic gold, and he built a foundation that has helped families facing cancer. He also fought Hodgkin lymphoma in the middle of his career, missed a season for treatment, and came back to score at a level that amazed doctors as much as fans. His life is not just a story of goals. It is a story of a man who kept coming back, in every sense, when most people would have stopped.

He was also a quiet man in a loud sport. He did not shout, he did not show off, and he did not seek attention. He spoke softly in French and in English, he answered questions simply, and he let his play speak for him. That quietness made him easy to underestimate, until you watched him play. Then you understood. He was not quiet because he had nothing to say. He was quiet because he did not need to say it. The puck said it for him, every night, in every rink, for more than twenty years.

A Basement Rink In Montreal And Three Brothers

The Lemieux family home in Montreal was not large, and it was not rich, but it was full of hockey. Jean-Guy Lemieux worked hard in construction, and he wanted his sons to have a chance to play the game they loved. He cleared space in the basement, he put down a surface, he hung a net, and he gave his boys a place to play all year, even in the coldest Montreal winter. Mario, the youngest of the three brothers, spent hours there with Alain and Richard, playing one against two, learning to keep the puck away from bigger boys, and learning to shoot in a space where a mistake meant hitting a wall. Those hours in the basement built his hands, his balance, and his patience.

At school, Mario was a quiet boy who loved hockey more than anything else. He played on outdoor rinks, he played in local leagues, and he quickly stood out because of his size and his skill. He was taller than most boys his age, and he used that height well, reaching around defenders with a stick that seemed too long for a child. His coaches noticed that he did not just score goals. He made his teammates better, because he passed the puck at the right time, and because he drew defenders toward him, leaving space for others. That unselfishness stayed with him for his whole career, even though he was one of the greatest scorers in history.

His brothers were important to him, not just as playmates, but as rivals and protectors. Alain and Richard were older and stronger, and they did not go easy on their younger brother in the basement. They hit him, they took the puck from him, and they made him fight for every inch. That toughness helped him later, when NHL defenders tried to intimidate him. He had already learned, in his own basement, how to play through contact, how to keep his balance, and how to stay calm when someone was trying to push him around. The basement was his first school, and it taught him lessons that no coach could teach.

As a teenager, he joined the Laval Voisins in the Quebec Major Junior Hockey League, and his scoring there became famous. In one season, he scored 133 goals and recorded 282 points, numbers that are still talked about in junior hockey today. Those numbers were not just about talent. They were about a young man who had spent thousands of hours in a basement, on outdoor rinks, and in practice, learning to do things with a puck that other players could not do. He was ready for the NHL, and everyone in hockey knew it. The only question was which team would get the chance to draft him.

Laval, 282 Points, And The Draft That Changed Pittsburgh

The 1983-84 season with Laval was the season that made Mario Lemieux a legend before he ever played in the NHL. He scored at a rate that seemed impossible, and he did it while being the player every other team tried to stop. Opponents put two players on him, they hit him late, they tried to frustrate him, and still he scored. He finished the season with 282 points, a total that remains one of the great junior records in hockey, and he won the scoring title by a huge margin. Scouts came from all over North America to watch him, and they all left with the same report. He was the best junior player they had ever seen, and he was ready to change an NHL team on his own.

The Pittsburgh Penguins, who had the first pick in the 1984 draft, chose him first overall, and the city hoped he would save a team that was struggling badly. Pittsburgh had not won much, its rink was old, and its fans were losing hope. Lemieux arrived in 1984, and in his very first NHL game, on his very first shift, he scored a goal. It was a perfect start, and it told Pittsburgh that the wait was over. He won the Calder Trophy as the best rookie in the league that season, and he gave the Penguins a star to build around, a player who could fill the rink and give the city a reason to believe again.

His early years in Pittsburgh were not easy, because the team around him was weak. He scored many goals, but the Penguins still lost many games, and he had to learn how to lead a losing team without losing his own belief. He played through back pain even then, a problem that would follow him for his whole career, and he learned to manage his body, to rest when he needed to, and to play through discomfort when the team needed him. He was not a loud leader, but he led by example, by working hard in practice, and by scoring when the game was close. His teammates respected him because they saw how much he gave, even when he was hurt.

In the late 1980s, the Penguins began to build a better team around him, bringing in players who could help him, and Lemieux began to reach the heights that everyone had predicted. In the 1988-89 season, he scored 85 goals and recorded 199 points, coming close to the 200-point mark that only Wayne Gretzky had reached. He won the Hart Trophy as the most valuable player, and he became the clear rival to Gretzky as the best player in the world. That season showed what he could do when he was healthy and when he had help, and it set the stage for the championships that would follow.

Back Pain, 199 Points, And The Rivalry With Gretzky

Mario Lemieux’s back was a problem for most of his career, and it shaped his story in ways that fans do not always see. He had a bad back from a young age, and the pain grew worse as he played more games against bigger, stronger men. He missed games, he had surgery, and he learned to live with pain that would have stopped many players. He did not talk about it much, because he was a private man, but his teammates knew, and his coaches knew, and they marvelled at how he could play so well while hurting so much. His back forced him to play smarter, to use his reach and his vision instead of his speed, and that made him even more dangerous in some ways.

The rivalry with Wayne Gretzky was the great rivalry of hockey in the late 1980s. Gretzky was the Great One, the record holder, the player who had changed the game with his passing and his vision. Lemieux was the Magnificent One, the bigger, stronger player who could score in ways Gretzky could not. They were different in style, different in personality, and different in background, but they respected each other deeply. Gretzky has said many times that Lemieux was the most talented player he ever played against, and Lemieux has said similar things about Gretzky. Their rivalry made hockey better, because fans could argue about who was best, and both players pushed each other to be greater.

In the 1988-89 season, Lemieux came within one point of 200, finishing with 199 points, and he scored five goals in one game in a way that showed his full range. He scored at even strength, on the power play, short-handed, on a penalty shot, and into an empty net, all in the same game, a feat that no other player has matched in quite the same way. That game, against New Jersey on New Year’s Eve in 1988, is still talked about as one of the greatest single games in NHL history, because it showed every part of his skill in one night. He could score in any situation, against any defence, and he did it with a calm that made it look easy.

He won the Hart Trophy that season, and he won the Art Ross Trophy as the league’s top scorer, but the team prize still eluded him. The Penguins were getting better, but they had not yet won a championship, and Lemieux knew that his legacy would not be complete without a Cup. He kept working, he kept playing through pain, and he kept believing that Pittsburgh could win. That belief would be tested in the years that followed, by illness as well as by injury, but it never left him.

Two Stanley Cups And The Best Team Pittsburgh Ever Had

The early 1990s brought the best years of Mario Lemieux’s playing career, and the best years in Pittsburgh Penguins history. The team had built a strong group around him, with players like Jaromir Jagr, a young Czech star who would become one of the greats himself, Paul Coffey, a fast defenceman who could pass the puck beautifully, and Mark Recchi, Bryan Trottier, and others who knew how to win. The coach, Scotty Bowman, was one of the greatest coaches in hockey history, and he knew how to use Lemieux’s talent without wearing him out. The pieces were in place, and Lemieux was ready to lead them to the top.

In 1991, the Penguins reached the Stanley Cup Final against the Minnesota North Stars, and they won the series in six games, bringing the first Stanley Cup to Pittsburgh. Lemieux was the best player in the playoffs, scoring many goals and setting up many more, and he won the Conn Smythe Trophy as the most valuable player of the playoffs. The city celebrated for days, and Lemieux, the quiet boy from Montreal, became a hero in Pittsburgh. He had saved the team when he arrived, and now he had brought it a championship, and the two achievements together made him a legend in the city.

The next season, in 1992, the Penguins did it again, beating the Chicago Blackhawks in the final in four straight games. Lemieux won the Conn Smythe Trophy again, becoming one of the few players to win it in back-to-back years. Those two Cups were the peak of his career as a player, and they showed what he could do when he was healthy and when he had a strong team around him. He was not just a scorer. He was a winner, a leader, and a player who rose to his best when the games mattered most. His teammates said that he made them believe they could win, simply by being on the ice with them.

Those Cup wins also changed Pittsburgh. The city had a hockey team to be proud of, the rink was full, and young fans grew up watching Lemieux and Jagr, dreaming of playing like them. He had come to Pittsburgh as a teenager, and he had grown up there as a man, learning the city, marrying, raising a family, and becoming part of its life. He was no longer just a player from Montreal. He was a Pittsburgher, and the city adopted him as one of its own, a feeling that would matter greatly in the years that followed, when the team faced its hardest test off the ice.

Cancer, A Season Away, And A Return That Amazed Everyone

In January 1993, in the middle of a season in which he was playing brilliantly, Mario Lemieux was diagnosed with Hodgkin lymphoma, a form of cancer that affects the lymph system. The news shocked hockey, because he was at the peak of his powers, and because he was only twenty-seven years old. He had to stop playing, he had to undergo radiation treatment, and he had to face a fight that was far harder than any game. He handled it with the same quiet courage he brought to the ice. He did not seek pity, he did not make a show of his illness, and he focused on getting better, one day at a time.

He missed the rest of the regular season for treatment, but he returned for the playoffs that spring, playing in a way that amazed everyone who watched. He was still weak from treatment, he had lost weight, and he was not at full strength, yet he scored goals and led his team with a determination that seemed almost impossible. The Penguins did not win the Cup that year, losing to the New York Islanders, but Lemieux’s return was a victory in itself, a sign that he would not let cancer define him. He had faced a life-threatening illness, and he had come back to play the game he loved at the highest level.

The years after his treatment were hard, because his back pain grew worse, and he missed many games. He took a full season off in 1994-95 to rest his back and to recover, a decision that was difficult for a player who loved to play, but one that showed his wisdom. He knew that his body needed time, and that pushing through pain without rest would end his career early. He came back in 1995-96 and won the scoring title again, proving that he was still the best player in the world when he was healthy. He also won the Hart Trophy again, and he showed that a player can return from illness and from injury and still be great.

He retired for the first time in 1997, at the age of thirty-one, because his back pain had become too much to bear. He was inducted into the Hockey Hall of Fame immediately, without the usual waiting period, a rare honour that showed how great he was. Most people thought his playing career was over, and they were grateful for what he had given the game. Yet his story was not over, because the team he loved was in trouble, and he would soon be called back, not just as a player, but as an owner who could save it from disappearing.

Buying The Penguins And Coming Back As Player-Owner

In 1998, the Pittsburgh Penguins filed for bankruptcy, and the team faced the real risk of leaving Pittsburgh or folding altogether. The players were owed money, the team owed money to many people, and the future looked bleak. Lemieux, who was owed a large amount of money by the team from his playing days, agreed to take ownership of the team in exchange for the money he was owed, and he became the owner of the Penguins in 1999. It was an extraordinary step for a retired player, and it showed how much he cared about the city and the team. He did not want Pittsburgh to lose its hockey team, and he was willing to put his own money and his own name on the line to save it.

As owner, he worked to stabilise the team, to pay its debts, and to keep it in Pittsburgh. He was a quiet owner, like he had been a quiet player, but he was a determined one. He met with city leaders, he worked with the league, and he made sure the Penguins had a future. He also learned about business, about running a team from the office instead of from the ice, and about the hard choices that owners have to make. It was a different kind of work, but he took it seriously, because he knew that the fans of Pittsburgh were counting on him.

Then, in December 2000, he did something that no owner had ever done before. He came back to play. At the age of thirty-five, after more than three years away from the game, he put on his skates again and returned to the ice for the Penguins, as a player-owner. The first game back was a moment of pure joy in Pittsburgh. He scored a goal, he set up other goals, and he showed that he still had the hands, the vision, and the calm that had made him great. He played for five more seasons, and he helped the team through a rebuilding period, mentoring young players and showing them what it meant to be a professional.

In 2002, he also played for Canada at the Winter Olympics in Salt Lake City, and he helped Canada win the gold medal, its first Olympic hockey gold in fifty years. He was the captain of that team, and he led a group of NHL stars with the same quiet leadership he had shown in Pittsburgh. That gold medal was a fitting achievement for a player who had won almost everything in hockey, and it gave him a chance to represent his country on the biggest stage, as a veteran who had come back from retirement and from illness to play again. He retired for the final time in 2006, after a heart problem made it unsafe for him to continue, and he left the game as a player for good, but he remained the owner of the Penguins.

The Foundation, The Family, And A Legacy In Pittsburgh

After his playing career ended, Mario Lemieux stayed in Pittsburgh as the owner of the Penguins, and he helped build a new arena for the team, ensuring that hockey would stay in the city for many years. The Penguins won more Stanley Cups in 2009, 2016, and 2017 under his ownership, with Sidney Crosby as the new star, a player Lemieux mentored and supported. He was proud to watch Crosby lead the team, because he saw in Crosby the same dedication and humility that he had tried to show in his own career. The team he had saved as a player and as an owner was now winning again, and that was a reward for all the years of work.

He also built the Mario Lemieux Foundation, which supports cancer research and helps families with children who are sick. The foundation grew out of his own experience with cancer, and out of the experience of his son Austin, who was born prematurely and spent time in hospital. He and his wife Nathalie, whom he married in 1993, have four children, and they have worked together to help other families facing hard times. The foundation has raised money for research, for hospital rooms, and for support for parents, and it has become one of the most important parts of his life after hockey.

His health remains a part of his story, because he lives with the effects of his back problems and his cancer treatment, but he has handled those challenges with the same quiet strength he showed on the ice. He does not complain, he does not seek sympathy, and he focuses on his family, his team, and his foundation. He is a private man who has given a great deal to the public, and Pittsburgh has honoured him in many ways, including retiring his number 66, a number that no Penguin will ever wear again, and building a statue of him outside the arena.

Today, Mario Lemieux is remembered as one of the greatest hockey players of all time, a player who could have been the best ever if he had stayed healthy for his whole career. Many people in hockey believe that, and they say it with respect for Gretzky as well. He is also remembered as a man who saved a team, who beat cancer, who came back to play, and who used his fame to help others. That combination of talent, courage, and kindness is rare, and it is why his story is told to young players in Pittsburgh and across Canada as an example of what a great athlete can be, on and off the ice.

My Take:

I think Mario Lemieux is the most talented hockey player I have ever watched, and I say that knowing how great Gretzky and Ovechkin and McDavid are. Gretzky was the smartest, Ovechkin is the greatest scorer, and McDavid is the fastest, but Lemieux had something that none of them had in quite the same way. He had size, hands, vision, and calm, all in one player, and he made the game look slow when he played it. I have watched old clips of him, and I still shake my head at some of the goals he scored, because they look impossible until you see them, and then they look easy, because he made them look easy.

What I admire most about him is his courage. He played through back pain that would have stopped most people, he faced cancer in the middle of his career, and he came back to play at the highest level. He did not talk about his pain much, he did not ask for sympathy, and he did not use his illness as an excuse. He just worked, he recovered, and he played. I think that takes a kind of strength that is hard to understand unless you have faced something similar. He showed that a person can be sick, can be hurt, and can still be great, not by ignoring the pain, but by living with it and by refusing to let it define him.

I also think about the basement rink his father built, because it is such a simple and beautiful image. A father, a basement, a net, and three boys playing hockey for hours. No fancy training, no expensive coaches, just a family that loved the game and a father who wanted his sons to have a place to play. That basement built one of the greatest players in history, and it reminds me that greatness often starts in small, ordinary places. You do not need a perfect rink or a perfect life to become great. You need a place to practice, people who love you, and a willingness to work.

His decision to buy the Penguins is another thing I think about a lot. He was owed money by the team, and he could have taken that money and walked away. Instead, he took the team, he took on its debts, and he saved it for Pittsburgh. That is not a business decision. That is a decision made by a man who loves a city and a team, and who does not want to see them lose something that matters. I respect that deeply, because it shows that he cares about more than himself. He cares about the fans, about the city, and about the future of hockey in Pittsburgh.

I also admire his quietness. He is not a loud man, he does not shout, and he does not seek attention. In a sport that is often loud, he was quiet, and his quietness made his play even more powerful. When he spoke, people listened, because he did not speak often, and because what he said was honest and simple. I think there is a lesson in that for anyone who is quiet by nature. You do not have to be loud to lead. You can lead by example, by work, and by calm, and people will follow you because they trust you, not because you shouted at them.

The comeback in 2000 is one of my favourite moments in sport. He was thirty-five, he had been retired for three years, he was the owner of the team, and he came back to play. Most people thought he would be slow, or that he would get hurt, or that it was a publicity stunt. He scored in his first game back, and he played brilliantly for five more seasons. That comeback showed that he still loved the game, and that he still had something to give. It also showed that age is not always a barrier, if you have skill, if you have wisdom, and if you take care of yourself. He was not the same player he had been at twenty-five, but he was still one of the best, because his hands and his mind had not aged.

I think about his Olympic gold in 2002, because it was a perfect ending to a part of his story. He had won Stanley Cups, he had won scoring titles, and he had beaten cancer, but he had never won an Olympic gold. In Salt Lake City, as captain of Canada, he led a team of stars to gold, and he did it with the same calm leadership he had shown in Pittsburgh. That gold medal mattered to Canada, because it had been fifty years since the last one, and it mattered to Lemieux, because it showed that he could still win on the biggest stage, even after everything he had been through.

His foundation is another part of his story that I respect deeply. He did not just talk about cancer. He built a foundation to fight it, to help families, and to support research. He did that because he had lived through cancer himself, and because his son had been sick as a baby, and he knew what families go through in hospital. That work is quiet, like he is, but it has helped many people, and it will keep helping people long after his playing days are forgotten. I think that is the best use of fame, to help others who are facing the same hard things you faced.

I also think about what might have been, and I want to be honest about it. If Lemieux had stayed healthy for his whole career, if his back had not hurt him, if he had not missed seasons for cancer treatment, he might have scored more goals than anyone, and he might have won more Cups. Some people say he could have been the greatest player ever, better than Gretzky, if he had stayed healthy. I do not know if that is true, and no one can know, because we cannot replay history. Yet the fact that people say it, and that Gretzky himself has praised him so highly, tells me how talented he was. He did not need a full, healthy career to be great. He was great even with all the time he missed, and that is remarkable.

His relationship with Sidney Crosby is also worth thinking about. Lemieux mentored Crosby, he supported him, and he helped him become the next great Penguin. He did not feel threatened by a younger star. He welcomed him, he taught him, and he was proud when Crosby won Cups for Pittsburgh. That generosity is rare in sport, where older stars often feel jealous of younger ones. Lemieux did not. He wanted the team to succeed, even if it meant another player took the spotlight. That is a sign of a great leader, and a great man.

If I were talking to a young player, I would tell them to watch Lemieux’s hands, not his speed. I would tell them to practice in small spaces, to learn to protect the puck, and to use their reach. I would tell them to be patient, to pass when they should pass, and to shoot when they should shoot. I would also tell them to be humble, to work hard, and to take care of their body. Lemieux’s career shows that talent is not enough. You need health, you need patience, and you need a team around you. He had all of those things at times, and he lost them at other times, but he never stopped trying.

I also think about his family, and about his wife Nathalie, who has stood by him through illness, through retirement, through ownership, and through all the hard parts of his life. A great career is never built alone, and Lemieux’s career was built with the support of his family. His children grew up watching their father play, watching him fight cancer, and watching him save a team. That must have taught them a great deal about courage, about work, and about love. I think his family is the quiet centre of his story, and I am glad he has them.

In the end, I think Mario Lemieux’s story is about coming back, again and again. He came back from back pain, he came back from cancer, he came back from retirement, and he came back to save a team that was dying. Each time, he could have stopped, and no one would have blamed him. Each time, he chose to come back, because he loved the game, because he loved Pittsburgh, and because he believed he still had something to give. That is a powerful lesson for anyone who faces a hard time. You do not have to come back quickly, and you do not have to come back perfectly. You just have to come back, in your own time, in your own way, and keep going. Lemieux did that, and his story will be remembered for as long as hockey is played.

I also think about the five-goal game on New Year’s Eve in 1988, because it is a perfect picture of his range. He scored in every way a hockey player can score, in one night, against one team, and he did it calmly, as if it were normal. Most players never score five goals in a game in their whole career. Lemieux did it and made it look like a lesson in how hockey should be played. I keep that game in mind when people ask me why he is called magnificent, because that night he was magnificent in the simplest sense of the word.

Another thing I admire is how he handled being compared to Gretzky for his whole career. It would have been easy to feel bitter, to feel that he was always second, or to try to copy Gretzky’s style. He did not. He played his own game, with his own size and his own hands, and he let people make the comparison if they wanted to. He respected Gretzky, and Gretzky respected him, and that mutual respect made their rivalry a good one, not a bitter one. I think young athletes can learn from that, because comparison is a part of sport, and the best answer is to be yourself, not a copy of someone else.

I think about his back pain, too, and about how he learned to play through it without complaining. He missed games, he had surgery, and he rested when he had to, but he never used pain as an excuse for a bad game. He played, he scored, and he moved on. That is a hard way to live, because pain wears you down over time, and it affects your mood, your sleep, and your family life. He carried that pain for years, and he still played at the highest level. That tells me he is tougher than most people realise, in a quiet and private way.

His work as an owner also teaches a lesson about responsibility. He could have been a famous former player who lived quietly and enjoyed his money. Instead, he took on a bankrupt team, he learned about business, and he worked to keep hockey in Pittsburgh. That work was not glamorous, and it did not bring him goals or applause, but it mattered to thousands of fans and to the city. I respect a person who uses his success to take responsibility, rather than to walk away from a problem.

I also want to say something about his children and his wife, because a career like his is never built alone. Nathalie stood with him through cancer, through retirement, and through the hard years of owning a team. His children watched him fight, recover, and return, and they learned from that example. I think the best legacy a parent can leave is not a trophy, but an example of courage, and Lemieux gave his children that example every day.

Finally, I think his story reminds me that greatness is not always about being the fastest or the loudest. Sometimes it is about being the calmest person on the ice, the person who sees the game clearly when everyone else is rushing. Lemieux saw the game clearly, he played it beautifully, and he left it better than he found it, as a player, as an owner, and as a man who helped others. That is why I will always think of him as magnificent, not just for his goals, but for his life.

Frequently Asked Questions

Where was Mario Lemieux born and how did he learn hockey?

Mario Lemieux was born on 5 October 1965 in Montreal, Quebec, in Canada. He learned hockey playing in a basement rink his father built at home with his two older brothers, which helped develop his close puck control and balance.

What junior scoring record did Mario Lemieux set before the NHL?

With the Laval Voisins in junior hockey he recorded 282 points in one season, including 133 goals. That remarkable season made him the clear first choice in the 1984 NHL draft for the Pittsburgh Penguins.

How many Stanley Cups did Mario Lemieux win as a player?

He won two Stanley Cups as a player with Pittsburgh in 1991 and 1992, winning the Conn Smythe Trophy as playoff MVP in both years. He later won more Cups as owner of the Penguins, including in 2009, 2016 and 2017.

What illness did Mario Lemieux face during his playing career?

He was diagnosed with Hodgkin lymphoma in January 1993 and underwent radiation treatment, missing much of that season. He returned for the playoffs that spring and later took time off to rest his back before returning to win another scoring title.

Why did Mario Lemieux buy the Pittsburgh Penguins?

The Penguins filed for bankruptcy in 1998 and were owed money to Lemieux from his playing days. He agreed to become owner in 1999, taking the team in place of the money owed, to keep hockey in Pittsburgh and save the franchise.

Did Mario Lemieux really return to play after retiring and becoming owner?

Yes, he returned to the ice in December 2000 at age thirty-five, more than three years after retiring, as a player-owner. He played five more seasons and also captained Canada to Olympic gold at Salt Lake City in 2002.