Excellent Adventure: Tanev

What a day. The quiet, calm, reserved Chris Tanev I once knew has been replaced with a funny, upbeat, optimistic 22-year-old who still can’t believe he’s playing in the NHL. He defied the odds, and the above sign around the corner from his house, and is now primed to make a real impact on Vancouver’ blueline.

We’ve got a ton of content to create based on our day touring Toronto with Tanev on Thursday and most of it won’t go up on Canucks.com until tomorrow, but here’s the photo gallery of our day to tie you over until then.

EXCELLENT ADVENTURE: TANEV

The one about…his two front teeth

Some people notice eyes, others lips, while another big draw is teeth.

Cory Schneider has nice teeth, the two front ones just aren’t real.

I know what you’re thinking: hockey accident – maybe a puck to the face?

Wrong.

Freak accident during his junior year in high school.

Schneider still doesn’t know exactly what caused the falls, blood pressure issues perhaps, but if he got up too quickly, he’d get extremely lightheaded.

“So one day, it was a hot day, I got up too fast and I started to get that lightheaded feeling and it turned into a blackout faint and I fell forward onto the hardwood floor and knocked my two front teeth out,” said Schneider, checking out his pearly whites in the rear view mirror between a visit to his hometown of Marblehead and an on-ice session.

“They put them back in and we knew one would stay, but the other had the root crack in half and we knew it wouldn’t. Literally for two years I had a wire bonded to my teeth, which was all that was holding them in place.”

Schneider had one tooth removed and a fake inserted during his freshman year and a short while later the other tooth turned grey and died, so that one was replaced as well. It wasn’t a permanent fix and he wore a retainer off and on before getting them redone, for good, two years ago.

“Not many people know that story. People always just assume I was hit by a puck. I wasn’t.”

The one about…swallowing a penny

Cory Schneider can be described in many ways, but penny pincher isn’t one of them.

Penny eater definitely is.

“I was like six or seven years old, I was little,” Schneider laughed Tuesday as Joey, Jory & Rory’s Excellent Adventure rolled into Boston. “I was just sucking on a penny because I was bored, I don’t know, I guess I thought it was a good idea at the time, and I swallowed it.”

Pardon me? It sounded like you said you swallowed it.

“I did,” he confirmed. “For most kids it probably would have gone right through them, but for me, it got stuck in my esophagus. My 10-year-old neighbour was looking after me so he called his house and his parents called 911 and they came and took me to the hospital.”

Schneider was knocked out and the penny was removed using long tongs that reached down his throat and grabbed the circular copper currency. He stayed in hospital overnight and as angry at his brother the entire time.

“My brother swallowed a nickel and a dime at one point and he was fine, it went right through him. Not me though. I don’t remember it hurting to be honest, it wasn’t like blocking my airway, but it definitely felt like someone was blocking my chest, which wasn’t a good feeling.

“That was the last time I put change in my mouth.”

The one about…being a Boston sports fan

If you can put your resentment towards a certain hockey team, one rhyming with ruin (as in a Stanley Cup dream), it’s impossible to deny that Boston is an unbelievable sports city with an undeniably passionate fan base.

The recent success of the Red Sox, Patriots, Celtics and that other team has raised all four franchises to new heights in Beantown, and that has inevitably attracted a few bandwagon fans here and there.

Cory Schneider isn’t one of them.

Tuesday he sported a Boson Red Sox hat and if you could wear four hats at once, he probably would have represented every Boston team – sorry, three of the four.

“I was a Bruins fan though,” Schneider admitted. “I was never a diehard fan, but we had season tickets growing up so I’d go to like five or ten games a year. I remember watching Ray Bourque and Neely and Adam Oates and those guys. My brother always loved Dave Reid, so I kind of did too because he did. Great penalty killer; longest stick in the league.”

If you want hardcore Schneider, bring up the Sox. You best pull up your sox as well because this man knows his stuff.

“I grew up more of a Red Sox fan than a Bruins fan. Even before I was in college and they finally won the World Series I was a diehard fan. I’m not anymore, I’m a fan, I just don’t live and die with every game. I mellowed out after a while. They are still my boys though. Go Sox.”

Rich Schneider, Cory’s father, was a big sports fan and if he and the boys weren’t at a game, they were watching it on TV. It didn’t matter who was playing, if a sporting event was on, dad and his two sons had their posteriors planted.

The New England Patrios were “terrible” when Schneider was young and yet he hung in with them as well and now has admiration for Tom Brady, both on the field and in Under Armour commercials.

Watching him live hasn’t happened yet, but it will someday.

“Foxborough (where the Patriots play) was about an hour and a half from our home, so it was just kind of a pain, so we never actually went to games, I might have gone once or twice, but we definitely watched them on TV a lot.”

The Celtics, oh those poor Celtics. Thanks to the actions of another Boston team they are at least third in Schneider’s heart and he admitted fandom, yet he simply doesn’t have much time for hoops.

“I don’t watch basketball, but when I do I drink Dos Equis,” he said, with a slam dunk of an answer. “That was a bad joke, don’t use that. Don’t put that one there. Sorry, where was I…oh, basketball. If I do watch basketball, I’ll watch the Celtics.”

Oddly enough Schneider didn’t wear the jersey of any Boston team on his back growing up, he supported the New York Rangers and specifically goaltender Mike Richter.

“He was my favourite goalie,” he said with pride. “My parents got me that jersey for Christmas; I liked him ever since the Cup Final in ’94 against Vancouver. He was one of the prominent American goalies at the time and an easy guy to like. I liked watching Richter play for Team USA as well.”

Wait a minute, slow down here.

Vancouver’s Cory Schneider, like Cory Schneider Cory Schneider, used to be a Bruins fan and he cheered for the Rangers and Richter in the ’94 Stanley Cup Final?

“Theoretically, I guess.”

Don’t expect this Boston sports fan to apologize.

Excellent Adventure: Schneider

Hey there sleepyhead! Nice of you to finally join us. Out here in Boston, the second stop on Joey, Jory & Rory’s Excellent Adventure, the day is half over, as is our time with Cory Schneider.

The Canucks goaltender puts new meaning to rise and shine as we met him for his daily workout at 6 a.m. - that’s 3 a.m. Pacific Time if you’re wondering. Starbucks wasn’t even open yet (more on that later).

We have a bit of a break now with Schneider tending to some personal matters before we travel to his hometown. During the trip we’ll have a Twitter Q&A, so make sure to be following @VanCanucks for the chance to get your questions answered.

And, as always, if you have a question, comment, concern or restaurant recommendation for Joey, Rory or myself, let us know.

The one about…finding the one

When you know, you know.

Natasha Zare knew Maxim Lapierre was the one from the first time she laid eyes on him.

“Well, maybe not the very very first time, but it didn’t take long,” Natasha laughed Sunday afternoon taking a break from the sun, sitting on the shaded patio in their backyard.

Lapierre was traded to Vancouver on February 28, 2011, and despite a hectic schedule for the Canucks, he tried his best to get out and explore Vancouver. That led him to Cactus Club Yaletown on Tuesday, March 15, 2011, for a bite to eat with a buddy. Natasha was their waitress. That was almost the end of the story.

Chris Higgins, also new to Vancouver, his brother and Kevin Bieksa joined Lapierre forcing a move to a larger table.

“He helped me with the menus and he helped do his own cutlery,” explained Natasha. “He’s the only person that has ever helped bring everything to the other table himself.”

And you thought chivalry was dead.

The small gesture from Maxim sparked a connection between the two, although Natasha admits she was hesitant to get into a relationship. A few days earlier she had given her notice to Cactus Club with a move to Florida on the horizon with Natasha preparing to accept a scholarship to law school.

Then Maxim called. Then he called again. And again. He kept calling until she gave him the time of day.

“He was persistent, let’s just say,” Natasha said smiling. “Do you remember he had that one game where he just kept going after the puck, kept going after the puck and kept going after the puck before he ended up doing a spin-o-rama for the goal? That is how I would describe us getting together. He did not stop trying.”

Maxim’s persistence paid off in this instance just as it did on November 25, 2011, when he put on a one-man show scoring the beautiful goal Natasha mentioned against the Phoenix Coyotes, and the two were inseparable weeks later. He proposed last December, December 18th to be exact, dropping to one knee moments after returning home from a lengthy five-game eastern road trip.

Natasha sees a side of Maxim that few others do; she describes him as a warm, caring man with “a big heart, the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met,” and would have continued showering him with praise if she hadn’t noticed he was now listening.

“What is that machine Derek, can you leave that for me? She speaks so nice about me into that thing,” laughed Maxim.

The chemistry between these two, who will be wed next summer in Montreal, is flawless. He’s feisty. She’s feisty. When talk of board games arises, things get heated. Scrabble isn’t just Scrabble, it’s war. Like two cats in a sock.

But that’s the only time Maxim ever displays even a glimmer of the Maxim Canucks fans see on the ice.

“Anyone who knows him, who actually knows him, knows that he’s nothing like he is on the ice in real life. He’s all gentleman.”

The one about…giving up the gift of gab

Things are changing for Maxim Lapierre.

He’s 27-years-old and maturing before our very eyes. Outwardly, he’s still Mad Max: talking a big game and backing it up in everything he does. Inwardly his actions tell a different story of how far he’s come during his time in Vancouver alone.

He’s found the one, Natasha, and is settling down. He wants to have kids, four to be exact. He bought a new house a few years ago and moved his parents next door to be close to family. All this, though, is nothing compared to the biggest change that will go down this fall when hockey returns.

“People don’t realize how much energy it takes being focused on talking to the other team all the time,” said Lapierre, hands on the wheel, foot on the pedal of his Range Rover. “It’s exhausting and I’m done with it.”

Re-read that last paragraph if you have to. I know I had to listen to the audio a few times to make sure I got it right.

One of the kings of trash talk is retiring from the yak game.

“I’d say I cut down to half of my regular talking last season,” he said. “But next year will be even better. I want to play a tough game, fight when I have to fight, and hit, but I’m done putting extra stress on the refs with my talking. I’m going to stop it. I can still play the same type of game, but the after the whistle thing, I’m totally done with that.

“It’s fun, don’t get me wrong, but at some point you have to realize it’s 82 games a year for seven years. I don’t even know what to say anymore to be honest, I’ve said everything.”

You could tell a guy that it used to be called a jumpoline before yo’ momma went on it, I thought to myself, chuckling, not realizing how serious Lapierre was.

“You should just compliment people instead,” quipped Rory, filming from the passenger seat.

Without hesitation, Lapierre jumped all over the suggestion.

“That’s what I’m going to do this year,” Lapierre stated. “‘Hey buddy, how was your summer?’ They’re going to be so confused. ‘I hope you had a great family summer!’”

Clearly Lapierre hasn’t lost his sense of humour all together. That’s a good thing. But he is a man on a mission in terms of cutting the gift of gab out of his game.

“At one point early on I realized that every player is good and to get into the NHL you have to do something to have the people’s attention and catch their eye. You’ve got to find a way to stay in the NHL and every player can shoot, every player can skate, so I started to talk. Now I’m done with that. For good.”

Talking the talk like never before.

The one about…the couch

Walk into Chez Lapierre, go past the twirly stairs that lead to the second floor and take a right. You’ll head down a staircase to a pimped out basement that is every guy’s dream. Jerseys on the wall, a remarkable home theatre setup, D-box seats, a trophy room – you name it, he’s got it.

One of the most comfortable couches my bottom has ever had the pleasure of meeting makes watching movies a dream for the couple, but as Lapierre explained, moving the large white leather beauty to the basement was a nightmare.

He lead me back up the stairs, bent down and pointed to a bruise in the wall that I somehow missed.

“Tasha and I decided we wanted to move the couch from upstairs to downstairs the other day,” he chuckled. “We got to this point on the stairs when we realized it’s a two man job, like for two strong men. That’s why there’s the big dent in the wall. The couch was actually stuck on the stairs for 15 minutes, with Tasha kind of stuck with it. I had to call Guillaume Latendresse to come help me move it. Thankfully he lives close by and was able to come help.”

Natasha was not injured in the couch incident.

The one about…how they almost died

The best story of our breakfast with Maxim Lapierre and Jean-Francois is one that dates back to the 2004-05 QMJHL season with the pair playing for the Prince Edward Island Rocket and Alain Vigneault their head coach.

“We show up for practice one morning,” began Jean-Francois. “It’s February in PEI, it’s very volatile weather down there and this one morning the sun was out, no snow on the ground, it was nice. We put on our team jackets and sweat pants and sneakers, light gloves, and go to practice for a few hours.

“We leave the rink and it’s hell out there. Cars are covered in snow; literally you couldn’t see the roofs. Max was driving a 1994 beat up Hyundai two-door, one of the best pieces of crap I’ve ever seen, and we can’t even see it. Alain pulled up in his shiny SUV ready to do donuts around everyone, and said he would give us a ride to our billets.

“We jumped in. Max’s billets had just moved to a new place on a farm and so Alain asked if the snowplow would have gone through the street there. Max said he didn’t know. When we got close, Alain said he didn’t want to take a chance at getting stuck, so he dropped us off nearby, but we still had a little walk. We start walking and it turns out we really misjudged how far of a walk it was, we were like a mile and a half away.

“Picture this: 30-mile an hour winds coming at you, ice falling off everywhere, snow coming up to your knees, you’re dressed lightly and tired from practice. I’m pretty sure I saw the light at the end of the tunnel at one point. It was crazy.”

Lapierre, laughing hysterically, added: “He just kept saying: ‘I’m cold, I’m cold, I’m cold.’ It’s like a line from the movies.”

Jean-Francois continued: “We finally got to the billets and I removed my gloves and they took 12 hours to thaw.

“Then the next day Alain fined us for not being dressed in proper winter gear. I’ll never forget that. I don’t think he knows that story.

“Alain, if you’re reading this, we almost died. We didn’t, so we were more than happy to pay that fine.”

The one about…the stinky tongue

Jean-Francois was ready when the question as asked.

“You want stories, oh I’ve got stories,” he laughed, moments after sitting down to join us for breakfast Sunday morning.

“We were playing junior together in PEI,” said JF. “We got creamed the night before by Rimouski and we weren’t supposed to practice the next morning, we were supposed to travel to Bathurst, but Alain Vigneault, he was our coach back then, wasn’t too pleased with our performance so he made us skate the next morning.

“He didn’t think we were tough enough the night before, so he made us do all contact drills in practice. We were doing this one drill and I was going up against one of our big goons and next thing you know I’ve got a puddle of blood in my mouth. I didn’t know what was going on so I went back to the line and Max told me I didn’t look too good. I opened my mouth to talk but I had bit through my tongue and I had no tongue left. They had to stitch it back together.”

The table fell silent.

Yuck.

Then Maxim Lapierre chimed in with the icky details.

“I used to pick him up for practice from his billets house and when we were driving in the morning, we had to put the windows down and put our heads out of the car because it was so stinky,” roared Lapierre.

“He couldn’t open his mouth because of the stitches and it was infected and he couldn’t brush his teeth. It was terrible. It was that stinky.”

Added Jean-Francois: “That’s a story for all you ladies at home.”