“It Will Always Be About RP74”: Roy Pejcinovski’s Legacy, Through the Eyes of His Friends
It was the afternoon of March 14th, 2018. The Toronto Marlboros and the Don Mills Flyers, two of the most storied franchises in the Greater Toronto Hockey League (GTHL), were entrenched in the heat of that year’s Under-15 AAA GTHL championship.
Anson Thornton, the starting goalie for the Marlboros, was riding shotgun alongside his mom in their family car. En route to the Canlan Sports complex in Etobicoke for practice, Anson spent the familiar commute scrolling through his phone and gazing out the window, doing his best to relax before hitting the ice.
After all, playoff hockey was upon him, and it had consumed most of his waking hours. He knew this wasn’t just any old playoff series.
For Anson, going toe to toe with some of the best players in the province meant something, but squaring off against his good friend and fellow netminder Roy Pejcinovski, only took his focus to another level.
His phone rang, interrupting his slew of passing thoughts. It was one of his coaches.
“Did you see the news?”, his coached asked.
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In truth, Anson had seen the news. Before he left his house, he saw the “breaking news” alert flash across his television screen. There had been a murder in Ajax, but he didn’t give it any more thought. “I didn’t think it would be that close to us”, he recalls.
Roy Pejcinovski, the starting goalie for the Don Mills Flyers, was murdered earlier that day. His mother, Krissy, and his 13-year old sister, Vana, were the other victims. Cory Fenn, Krissy’s ex-partner, has since been found guilty for all three counts of second-degree murder.
Anson’s life was no longer just about hockey.
He had first met Roy when they were kids. Before making the jump to the GTHL, they were still the same highly competitive, motivated goalies they are now. Anson grew up playing minor hockey in Oshawa. Roy, doing the same a few cities over in Pickering. Growing up so close to each other led the two to cross paths numerous times.
“We always had a good rivalry,” Anson says with a smile. The sound of pucks ringing off posts and crossbars echoed throughout Sadlon Arena. Practice had just ended, but a few of Anson’s teammates were still practicing their one-timers and shots off the rush.
Everywhere that hockey took him, Anson and Roy somehow ended up together. Whether it was the infamous Brick Invitational hockey tournament, a notable spring hockey showcase that brings some of the best players in the province together, or goalie camps in the offseason, their friendship grew beyond hockey.
“We would have sleepovers and we would go to each other’s houses all the time,” Anson recalls happily. “He was always the happiest guy around and he never had anything bad to say. We had a great bond.”
Despite never playing on the same team, Anson and Roy always found time for each other. Whether it was spending the night at each other’s houses or cracking jokes at the bench during intermissions, hockey kept them together. Anson admitted that he always tried to trash talk Roy, but his positivity quickly dismantled any attempt he made.
“Having a friend to play against on the other end made hockey more fun,” Anson said.
The day of Roy’s passing was a blur for Anson. Devastation and shock consumed him and all he could remember was his mom trying to calm him down. Somehow, he managed to hit the ice with his Marlboros teammates for practice. They didn’t do too much, he recalls, aside from playing music that they knew Roy would’ve liked.
Despite being on the other side of the series, the Marlboros organization knew how much Roy’s life impacted the hockey community. They grieved, as a team, and rejoiced in his memory.
“Nobody really wanted to be there, but nobody really had a place to go,” Anson remembers, slumping a little in his chair. His Arizona Coyotes hat, a nod to the team that signed him to his first NHL contract, is pulling back his curled hair.
In the seasons that came after, Anson made it a priority to engrave Roy’s memory everywhere he went. It started out as stickers on the back of his mask as he finished out his GTHL career. After he was drafted by the Ontario Hockey League’s Sarnia Sting, he painted the moniker “RP74” on the back of his mask.
Now with the Barrie Colts, he’s sporting a similar design, with the same “RP74” engraving. But this time, they’re accompanied by angel wings.
“Roy was a great goalie and I’m just trying to carry on his legacy,” said Anson. “Writing it on my helmet and always thinking about him is so important to me.”
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Ben West was just another kid. A high level goalie, yes, but a kid at heart. He loved video games, and between his training sessions and hockey games, he would often find himself in his room, chatting with friends while seeing who could hit the best trick shot.
Much like Anson, Ben knew Roy through hockey. They grew up together, with Ben spending his childhood in Whitby’s minor hockey league system. A city that sits in between Pickering and Oshawa, Ben found himself staring down the ice at Roy on more than one occasion.
After finally getting the chance to play together during the Brick Invitational tournament, Ben could tell that there was an immediate connection between him and Roy.
“We instantly became really good friends,” he recalls, flashing a big smile. “Roy would always want to hang out to do something. He was never in a bad mood.”
Bonding over both hockey and video games, the two progressed through the upper echelons of the sport together. Roy soon joined the Don Mills Flyers program, while Ben spent some time with a handful of notable GTHL teams.
On the day of Roy’s passing, Ben found himself in a familiar place. In his room, with the door closed, comedically yelling at his friends over a video game.
His dad’s contact name flashed across his phone.
“He didn’t tell me anything specifically,” Ben remembers, as he draws his hood of his sweater over his head. The sounds of pucks echoing off posts and crossbars had since been replaced by the steady hum of the zamboni.
“He just said he had bad news and that he wanted to tell me in person.”
Joining his dad in the kitchen, Ben still cringes when he thinks about the heartbreak he felt. “I couldn’t believe it. I was literally playing Fortnite with him the night before,” he recalls.
In the days and weeks that came after, Ben struggled accepting that Roy was gone. The two things that had originally brought them together is all that Ben had left, and letting go of a person he shared both with proved to be more difficult than he thought.
It didn’t feel real. The first week or so, I’d see his name on my phone and I didn’t feel like it had actually happened,” said Ben. “I’d look for his name whenever I played video games and I didn’t feel like it had actually happened. It was tough for a couple of months.”
The thought of Roy was still fresh with Ben when he hit the ice for the first time that summer. He returned to the same goalie camps that Roy would’ve been at, only this time, he felt there was something missing. A familiar face and a friendly smile soon turned into nothing but memories for Ben.
“At goalie camp, we’d often be in the same group, and because he caught with his left hand, we’d often switch gloves and try to play with our opposite hand,” said Ben, laughing at the mere thought of Roy’s goofy self. “It was just sad, not having him there. We’d sit next to each other, he’d come over to my house after. We couldn’t do that anymore.”
Now making up the second half of the goaltending tandem in Barrie, Ben pays tribute to Roy in a similar way, having the number “74” painted on the back of his mask.
“When I came to Barrie, the designer asked me about what design I wanted on my backplate. I didn’t really have anything specific in mind,” Ben explains. “All I knew is that I wanted the number 74 somewhere on there.”
It may seem like a small gesture, but Ben knows that it’s the little things that matter most.
“I always think about him. I’ve talked about him quite a few times to people,” he said. “And I always make sure to tell people that he was the nicest kid I knew.”
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“He was this small, goofy kid, who thought he was 6’2 all the time, even though he was only 5’7.”
That’s how New York Rangers first round pick and current Peterborough Pete Brennan Othmann would describe Roy Pejcinovski.
The two had first met when they were kids, becoming friends through the numerous hockey tournaments and summer camps they went to. Brennan grew up in the town of Brooklin, Ontario, a stone’s throw away from the Oshawa-Whitby-Pickering area that lay east of Toronto. While the pair enjoyed hockey the most, they also divulged in soccer and swimming, and, as Brennan remembers, Roy’s exuberant personality shined across everything they did.
“Roy was very fun. A really happy kid, someone who would always have a smile on his face. He would always joke around and try to piss other guys off in practice,” Brennan laughed. “That was his personality, on and off the ice.”
“Always goofy with that little kid mindset. Sometimes we’d joke that he needed to grow up a little bit.”
While Brennan joined the Toronto Marlboros for the first five seasons at the GTHL level, Roy sided with the Don Mills Flyers. And before the two joined forces when they were 14, it gave Roy plenty of opportunity to showcase just how good he was.
“We were playing against him and I was sitting right at the side of the net. I hit a one-timer but he did the splits and absolutely robbed me,” Brennan recalls with a laugh. “He had it all on video and he was giving it to me after that. If he was here, he never would’ve let it go.”
On the day of Roy’s passing, Brennan was in a place that he found comfort in. Sitting next to Shane Wright and Peyton Robinson, two of his new Don Mills teammates, the three sat and enjoyed the fast-paced action of that year’s OHL Cup. Brennan’s family was absent, with the fathers’ of both Shane and Peyton remaining with the three boys.
“We had these kids come up to us, asking if it was true,” Brennan explains, leaning against the headboard of his bed. The walls of his room were blank, except for the sculpture of an animal head with antlers, something he promised to ask his new billet family about. “We were confused. At the time, we had no idea what they were talking about.”
Soon after, Simon Wright and Paul Robinson guided the boys into an empty office at the rink. What Brennan heard next destroyed him. Silence followed, as the trio stood frozen in place, unsure of what to do next.
Brennan returned home in silence. He climbed the stairs to his room. He shut the door and drew the blinds, allowing the darkness to consume him as he sat, confused and heartbroken, on the edge of his bed. While others seeked counselling and conversation, Brennan longed for the opposite.
“I grieved in my own way,” he said. “When my door is closed and I have my four walls, that’s where the anger and the emotion comes out.”
Brennan knows that the “being alone” approach might not work with most people. He admitted that it might not even be the healthiest thing to do. But the key is that it works for him. Grieving in his own way, processing his emotions in his own way, has made him stronger.
In the months that came next, Brennan established new routines and practices, focusing on honouring Roy’s legacy in hockey.
“On all of my sticks since the incident, I’ve had RP74 on it. It’s right on my shaft, right at the top. It reminds me of him when I’m playing, so when I have a bad shift or bad game, I look down and remember that I can’t take that for granted,” he said. “The shift’s over, it’s done with, move on to the next one. Roy wishes he could play right now, his family wishes he could play right now, so just go out and be a little bit better.”
And for Roy, not taking anything for granted is Brennan’s new mantra.
“Regardless of what happens in my career, whether I play 15 years or not, I will always put RP74 on my stick.”
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Brandt Clarke is still getting used to the pro lifestyle. The former Barrie Colts captain has since moved on to the NHL, joining the Los Angeles Kings straight out of training camp and moving in with Jonathan Quick and his family soon after. The guest room is now his but between practices and team meetings, he hasn’t had much time to make it his own space.
“I haven’t decorated too much yet and it’ll be a process when I finally get that started,” he laughed.
Brandt and Roy met in a familiar place. The Brick Invitational tournament keeps coming up and for good reason. An Ottawa-native, Brandt was invited to the tournament and was one of the only non-GTA players rostered. He was intimidated, joining Toronto Pro Hockey barely knowing anyone. He had never seen this many talented players in one space.
But then, a friendly face emerged.
“Roy was kind of the icebreaker. He ran up to me and his excitement and happiness was glowing right off the bat,” Brandt explains with a grin. “He’s known for that huge smile he always has, he was always laughing. He wanted me to feel like I was a part of the team and that’s just the personality he exuded. He lived his whole life like that.”
The two soon joined forces on what would end up being a loaded Don Mills Flyers team. And, as Brandt tells it, Roy’s personality became infectious. Whether he had a bad night in net or a good one, he always wanted to make sure that everyone was happy. He was a positive spirit, and the team knew it.
“It started with him and then everyone else wanted to be in a good mood. It made our team gel together,” said Brandt. Other instances only proved what Roy meant to the Flyers organization.
“This one time it was Shane Wright, Brennan Othmann and myself in one corner, he was in the other corner, and whenever we’d make each other laugh, he would always run over and ask us to tell the story again, just because he wanted to know what was funny,” Brandt remembers, flashing a big smile as he takes a sip from his workout bottle. “That was his personality. He always wanted to be around, he always wanted to be in on the fun.”
The day of Roy’s death was an emotional one. Brandt was home, and he began receiving a slew of strange text messages. People were asking if Roy was ok, if the news was really true. Confused, Brandt turned to his mom for answers. After a couple of phone calls, the news spread.
“I didn’t really get a ‘hey, guess what’ text. I just heard it from my mom and my immediate thought was ‘that can’t be right’, said Brandt. But then I saw Ajax Tragedy on the news and realized it was real. It didn’t feel like I was awake.
He didn’t cry right away. The initial shock of hearing about it had pressed pause on his emotions. Brandt returned to his room and sat in the dark, desperately trying to process what he had just learned. Instead, the moment he thought about it, the tears came, and they didn’t stop. It went on for an hours.
“I had never felt anything like that in my life.”
Adjusting to the pro lifestyle on the west coast hasn’t been easy, but Brandt has brought Roy’s personality with him. Meeting some of his hockey heroes for the first time has reminded him of when he was that same scared kid, walking into a hockey tournament knowing nobody. But after meeting Roy, Brandt knows that bringing a positive attitude and a willingness to talk to new people will only improve his life away from home.
Roy doesn’t come up often in Brandt’s life anymore, but when he does, he makes sure that he’s reminded of him in only the best ways.
“He was the best and he wouldn’t want me to think about sadness when I think of him. He would want me to think about how positive he was.”