Former Flames goaltending coach Clint Malarchuk opened up about the traumatic neck slash he survived in 1989 following the death of Adam Johnson.While goaltending a home game for the Buffalo Sabres, Malarchuk’s neck was cut open by a Steve Tuttle’s skate blade, in an injury comparable to the tragic episode in England last week where former NHL player Adam Johnson was fatally slashed in the jugular by the skate of Matt Petgrave.Malarchuk, tending goal in the Zamboni end of the rink, lost so much blood after the goalmouth collision that he nearly bled to death and doctors speculated if the injury had occurred at the other end of the ice, he would not have made it, according to Flames Nation. “The surgeon who performed emergency surgery to close the wound told Malarchuk that he’d narrowly escaped death.”Malarchuk not only survived the terrible injury, but was miraculously back on the ice in 10 days. He played as a professional goalie until 1997 before becoming a coach. The Flames acquired him in 2011, where he coached for a few years before hanging up his hat for personal reasons. Now, the hockey legend has returned to the spotlight to respond to the flood of calls and messages he’s received from friends checking in and media looking for comment on Johnson’s death. Johnson, 29, died from a jugular slash similar to the injury Malarchuk suffered, while playing for the Nottingham Panthers in the Elite Ice Hockey League (EILT). He was killed by the blade of Matt Petgrave’s blade, who plays for the Sheffield Steelers.Malarchuk is reliving the experience, which he said caused him PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder),” according to The Athletic’s Dan Robson, who co-wrote Malarchuk's 2014 memoir, The Crazy Game. Malarchuck suffered from OCD, depression, severe anxiety and panic attacks, and addiction to alcohol in the years following the accident, and it was difficult for him to open up to friends and family about it to seek support. In 2008, he attempted suicide. Afterwards he was diagnosed with PTSD.“Malarchuk’s personal life unraveled that year and he reached a point where panic, suspicion, and paranoia overwhelmed him,” according to The Athletic article.The adrenaline kicked in all over again when Malarchuk scrolled through his phone on the morning after Johnson’s death. At first he didn’t want to know the details, but then he leaned in. “It’s big, big anxiety,” Malarchuk told The Athletic. “But I didn’t go into panic mode, which I guess is a testament to the work I’ve done.”“People are texting me out of concern,” Malarchuk explained. “I go from ‘Thanks for thinking of me’ — but as these texts keep coming in, I’m like ‘Would you guys leave me alone — you’re making it worse.’”“I have to be really conscious of what’s going on,” Malarchuk said. “The PTSD is real. It definitely triggers. But I have my tools.”The feeling that overrode the rest was compassion. The hockey great recalled the trainers, the fans, the other players, his own mother, watching the traumatic slash when he played for the Sabres. “I really feel just terrible for (Johnson’s) family,” he said, commenting that the injured player wasn’t the only one to suffer trauma when something like this happens. He pointed out there will be many people in Johnson’s life impacted by his death who will still have to process it. This isn’t the first time Malarchuk has relived the traumatic event that nearly killed him. The former goaltender was hit with a barrage of texts and calls in February 2008, when Florida Panthers forward Richard Zednik suffered a neck slash by the skate of teammate Olli Jokinen while playing against the Buffalo Sabres. Jokinen, tangled up with Sabres forward Clarke MacArthur, lost control of his leg and his skate blade cut through Zednik’s external carotid artery. Malarchuk responded to reporters at the time, who brought up the gruesome details from 1989. “I was reliving that accident over and over,” he said. “I had no tools then.”“I never processed anything,” Malarchuk says. “I never told anybody about my fears or what I might be feeling.”When the news cycle fades, the grief for those who lost someone irreplaceable will remain. And the trauma of what many people witnessed will linger, Malarchuk worries, even if it’s not at the forefront.“What I hope is that maybe people will get some counseling,” he says. “PTSD is real. Don’t go undiagnosed for 20 years, like me.”
