Sports saved my life. A response I gave after long reflections and soul searching, when asked about success.
Some ask, “How can a person who was born on an Indian reserve, sent to three residential schools and separated from family, love, and care, be expected to succeed?”
For six-and-a-half years on the world’s most unique Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada (TRC), I came to know about hope and possibility.
Our TRC was court-ordered to examine what happens to children when, by law, they are separated from their parents and placed in institutions. For me, it was 14 years “to be Christianized and civilized,” with the stated purpose “to kill the Indian in the child.” But what happens to the parents and grandparents?
Because of hockey, they did not kill my spirit.
The horrific testimonies of lived experiences of thousands of children who were abused in multiple ways revealed years of inter-generational trauma. We weren’t supposed to succeed, but for many, the power of sport was there to save lives, by offering structure, a purpose, an option to choose life and important for me, an escape.
Notwithstanding these challenges, I am so proud of schoolmates who survived through quiet prayer, courage and strength, taking care of each other, crying without tears.
When it was time to play, there was fun, language, laughter, and friendly — though sometimes tough — competition. There was also regimented school time. This background is the saddest, darkest, and most unknown chapter of Canadian history. But the bright light throughout it all was family and hockey.
Sport as survival is an essential story in this chapter, for the lessons and teachings it carries. We have sacred teachings fundamental to the joy of effort in sport and traditional games: respect, honesty, courage, strength and other grandfather teachings.
While I only found hockey at 14, or equipment found me at 14, it was such a lifetime blessing. In the evenings before called inside, I would go for a run — a circuit on a gravel road, about five miles — tempted to run away, to run home. It was such a winning feeling; I came to love it as an escape, a reprieve, a form of training in a way. But more so, because I came to say often: “I did not just run — to run away from my childhood abuse, to cry, to pray — it became a run toward sport.”
Hockey and other sports gave me a purpose in life, resilience in some ways and a reason to get up and to keep getting up — a reason to keep going.
Sport, as everyone knows, teaches discipline, one of our grandfather teachings. Through hard work, you begin to feel and believe in your own potential, fostering hope for the future. The lessons of a winning spirit and positive thinking from sport naturally carry over to education: practice hard, play hard, study hard, and good results follow. As a coach once said, “Look good, feel good, play good.”
These lessons carried over into my education, career, and leadership. From Indian residential school to the hall of fame. The formula for winning in life is balance.
For me and others whose testimonies I heard, as champions: physical, mental, cultural, and most importantly, spiritual balance is the formula for success. So, in response to the opening question at the outset, this became my response.
It is hard work to overcome challenges for families torn apart by legislation, but it is possible with the help of family support and positive thinking. It can lead to becoming an international lawyer, a member of Parliament, a grand chief, an international chief at the United Nations, a former commissioner for Judicial Reform and Canada’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission.
Thank you, hockey. My turning point was a skiing accident, my own fault really. It paused my hockey dream because one of my coaches did not allow us to ski during the season. I did not listen, went spring skiing after exams, and, true to the rules, broke my leg.
But Great Spirit works in mysterious ways. Coaching and exploring professional hockey management in two academies with NHL instructors actually led me into law school. As in hockey, the same fundamental principles are essential for advocacy and creating opportunities for others who sometimes just need a good pass, an assist or a helping hand.
For decades through international law, I have worked hard to create or expand opportunities for Indigenous athletes. Competing internationally taught me the value of sport as being much more than competition — it is about identity, community and pride. Knowing your spirit.
Today, with the greatest gratitude to the Edmonton Oilers, I carry those teachings into my role as an honorary board member of the Edmonton Oilers Community Foundation (EOCF). Through initiatives like the EOCF’s Every Kid Deserves a Shot program, funded largely by the EOCF 50/50 raffle, we focus on giving young people, including Indigenous youth, the same opportunities that shaped my life.
Success on the ice matters, but what happens off the ice is equally important for building strong and healthy foundations.
I am thankful for the important role of Every Kid Deserves a Shot as it also promotes and helps advance reconciliation in our territories where “Every Child Matters.” Sport has healing power. Recognizing history and cultural heritage is a true act of reconciliation.
With the Edmonton Oilers Community Foundation, we see firsthand how sport can heal and unite. It speaks a language children understand. Programs we support give children and youth not just the chance to play, but to build confidence, pride, and connection to their culture and community.
Not only does every kid deserve a shot, I believe they all have a right to be happy.
Chief Wilton Littlechild is an international lawyer specializing in Indigenous and international law. He is also an international chief, a former member of Canada’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission, and a former member of Parliament. He is also an honorary board member of the Edmonton Oilers Community Foundation.
