Nine years after Cup win, Brent Sopel has become a dyslexia champion and political activist

Ten times in his NHL career, Brent Sopel went to Washington.

He went for hockey. He went because his team — which, for three years, was the Blackhawks — had a road game against the Capitals. He flew in, played the game, and left.

He never thought trips to the Capitol itself would eventually become a key aspect of his post-hockey life purpose. Yet, it has.

“You talk about ‘going to Capitol Hill,’ and obviously that’s historic, being in there, having conversations with people that are representing each of the states,” Sopel said. “Twenty years ago, if you told me I was going to be doing that, I would’ve laughed at you.”

There’s no laughing now, though there is plenty of pride.

Diagnosed with dyslexia and dysgraphia shortly after the 2010 Stanley Cup-winning season, Sopel has overcome lifelong self-esteem issues and late-career alcoholism and devoted himself toward raising awareness about dyslexia.

The learning disability, symptomized most prominently by difficulty reading and writing but disabling in other ways as well, affects an estimated 43 million Americans and eight million Canadians. That’s about 20 percent of each country’s population.

It still affects Sopel, too, and it always will. But through the recently formed Brent Sopel Foundation and the encouragement of countless affected children — who reached out in the aftermath of his heartfelt 2017 Players’ Tribune article — Sopel’s campaign to spread awareness has evolved into a campaign for political change.

In July, Sopel headlined a panel discussion in Washington hosted by Bruce Westerman (R-Ark.), co-chair of the U.S. House of Representatives’ dyslexia caucus. Westerman saw a man bringing all the passion of a professional hockey player to a far less in-the-spotlight subject.

“The thing that comes out almost immediately, and it probably goes back to his hockey-playing days, is his passion to work in this area,” the congressman said. “It was great having him on the panel because we had researchers and educators and people talking about the science and the theory and all of that, and then Brent brings in this down-to-earth, real-life experience of ‘this is what happened to me.’”

Sopel and Michael Sanow, a documentary producer and close friend, returned to D.C. in September to meet with numerous additional politicians, including Illinois senators Dick Durbin and Tammy Duckworth. They have another trip planned in November, with more meetings scheduled.

Everything remains in the talking phases, but two key ideas have emerged: requiring all aspiring teachers — not just aspiring special education teachers — to have a semester on learning disabilities; and offering funding for schools to provide classes that teach Wilson Reading, a sensory-based alternative learning method.

Although most education legislation is passed in state governments rather than in Washington, Westerman cautions, Congress does apportion some special education funding, and can play a key role in getting topics such as dyslexia discussed in individual states.

“No two dyslexics learn the same way, even though there’s similarities, so you’ve got to do what works best for these children,” Sanow said. “For people in the middle- to low-income bracket, sometimes that’s not an option, because it’s $100 to $200 an hour for a specialist to sit there with this child.”

That was the way it was for Sopel. Growing up in a rural area in western Canada, he read at only a fourth-grade level in high school. He was branded as stupid, rather than dyslexic, by teachers.

With a program like Wilson Reading, he believes, things could have been different.

“Telling me that ‘Stan drove six miles…,’ you’ve already lost me,” Sopel said. “The Wilson learning program helps you unwire your brain a little bit so you can read and be successful in life.”

Hounded by insecurities about his educational issues, Sopel focused on hockey, a sport in which he was not only physically talented but also mentally well-suited. Most coaching and teaching was done visually, through videos or whiteboard sketches.

And while his dyslexia also prevented him from knowing his right from his left, he could make do.

“Through drills and things like that, so I always tried not to go first and paid attention to what was going on in front of me,” he said. “Just not knowing I had it pretty much my whole NHL career, I was just trying to figure out ways to manage and cope.”

He more than managed, playing 659 games as an NHL defenseman from 1998 to 2011. His bruising playing style and disheveled shoulder-length hair made him an instantly recognizable player on the United Center ice.

Sun-Times file photo

Those black locks are shaved close now, but when walking into the U.S. Capitol, Sopel still stands out. For years, he dreaded the inevitable coming end of his hockey career; now that he’s long since passed that point, the platform and stature that being an NHL player gifted him continues to aid his new endeavors.

“It’s definitely a conversation starter,” he said, chuckling. “As I walk through the door, I don’t look like your typical politician, so we definitely talk about that and I give them a little background and history.”

Sopel and Sanow have found receptive voices on all ends of the political spectrum. Westerman’s fellow dyslexia caucus co-chair, Julia Brownley (D-Cal.), missed the July event but met with Sopel in September — and he’ll meet with her again this fall.

“Dyslexia does not discrimate: It’s not a Republican issue, it’s not a Democratic issue, it’s a bipartisan issue,” Sanow said. “The conversation is happening and the ideas are being collected — and it’s not just coming from Brent Sopel. It’s coming from parents, educators, politicians and scientists around the country.”

The process is still rather awe-inspiring, Sopel admits. On every trip into D.C., he still half expects to end up at Capital One Arena, not the Capitol.

Yet he remains driven by a cause that he’s realized is a lot bigger, in many ways, than hockey.

“Everytime you go up there, it’s something new, and it’s still kind of mind-blowing that I am there,” Sopel said. “But in the same breath, my story and what I’m about, it’s not about me. It’s about everybody else that is struggling with this.”