By George Johnson
Calgary Herald
The news rocked Juwan Simpson harder than Corey Boyd surging through the middle, shoulder lowered and malice aforethought.
“Whaaaaa…t?” came the screeching reply, his voice making its way through the scales in no time flat, low to high. “Geo? Are you (kidding) me? When? When did all this happen? You sure?”
Simpson craned his neck, looking to nearby teammates in futile search of verification.
“Doesn’t anybody tell me anything? Did I know about this? Does it SOUND like I know about this?
“Dang!”
As utterly absurd as this might sound, the guy with more right to the Ironman suit than Robert Downey Jr. will be out of the Calgary Stampeders lineup July 1, when the Montreal Alouettes visit on opening day.
After 39 seasons toting equipment bags, lugging gear, moving boxes and bins, packing, parcelling, hauling, pushing trunks, George Hopkins is sitting it out.
Not by choice, mind. Never by choice. He’s being confined to IR.
This is a loyal soldier, be aware, who’s missed one game on the job in four decades. One. Nineteen seasons ago, the day his daughter Jorde was born.
He long-ago received a gold star sticker for exemplary attendance.
“So, yeah,’’ Hopkins sighs, “it stinks. What can I tell you?”
A tear in the right shoulder, the cumulative effects of decades of heavy lifting, was diagnosed in February. He hoped to fudge his way through this season, if he “didn’t do anything stupid,” and then fix ’er up during the winter. But, typically, in a totally innocuous incident, a moment of horticultural zeal, something stupid happened.
“I was teaching my son how to use the lawn mower — how to dislodge grass — so that he could cut it because I wasn’t going to be able to,” he chuckles softly. “So I lifted the mower up, and when I set it back down, (the shoulder) just blew apart.”
Simpson shakes his head mournfully when informed of the details.
“See? See?’’ he admonishes. “He shouldn’t have been doing that. He should’ve been doing his job. Geo works all these hours up here, he should have somebody mowing the lawn for him.”
After working 673 regular-season games, 34 playoff contests and seven Grey Cups with the Stamps, this operation was inevitable.
“I’ve had surgery on both shoulders six or seven years ago, muscle tears. But I thought at five-foot-four, you’re not very far from the ground, so if you just lift ’em and waddle along it should be no big deal. The Weeble look, right? And wouldn’t you know it, it’s my right shoulder, the one I use for everything.”
Long snapper Randy Chevrier doesn’t believe that piddly detail will put someone as determined as Hopkins off for long:
“He can still chuck water bottles at us with his left hand.”
Surgery is set for June 25 and Stamps director of medical services and longtime Hopkins sidekick Pat Clayton estimates six weeks outfitted in a sling, followed by six months of rehab.
The Stamps have hired extra staff to fill the gap and Hopkins will continue with the administrative part of his job. So he’ll still be hanging around McMahon, in the dressing room, in his environment, but not actively involved during games or on road trips.
“This,” Hopkins concedes, “will be tough. I’ve been sick in the off-season with the flu and gone home. But physically, I don’t think I’ve ever been off a day during camp or the season. The beautiful thing is that I’ll be re-habbing at work. Seeing Patty every day. I’m still going to be around. I ain’t goin’ anywhere. At my age, where else is there to go?”
Hopkins concedes he’s apt to be a tad owly from time to time through the process, inactivity being something completely foreign to his nature.
“Oh, yes,” teases defensive line coach DeVone Claybrooks, “he will be cranky. Cran-ky. You small folk have Napoleon Complexes as it is, right?
“But, man, if I could have that kind of longevity in my workplace. He’s George. The epitome of a professional. I mean, if you weren’t doing an awesome job, after 40-some years, they would’ve found some way to replace you.”
No one can replace Hopkins. He’s an absolutely integral part of the Stampeder landscape, this small shotgun of a man with blond curly hair, deep reddish tan and inevitable sunglasses.
“The wear and tear over the years has,” he acknowledges, “taken its toll. I realized when I hit 50 that I wasn’t going to be able to carry six (bags) at a time anymore. That’s when I had the young guys help us carry more and more stuff. So I got smarter later in life. Maybe just not smart enough, soon enough.’’
It still seems utterly absurd, totally preposterous, but George Hopkins is officially out of the Stampeders lineup July 1, opening day, with an upper-body injury.
Within his particular milieu, this is the equivalent of Ripken taking a day off at short or Glenn Hall developing irresolvable back spasms after 502 consecutive goaltending starts in early November of ’62.
“Forty years?” marvels Simpson. “Shoot. Man, that is awesome. Especially having to put up with us players. I’m sure he’s dealt with some real beauties over the years.
“After all that time on the job, Geo probably needs a little rest. He’s owed. He’s got to get his business attended to. So we’re OK with him being off the job for a while. Just not for too long.”