One of My Former Teammates Coaches in the NHL, One of My Former Teammates Coaches in the AHL, and I... Coach in the PJHL
- Edward Garinger
- Apr 4
- 11 min read
Updated: Apr 7
There’s a sentence that’s been rolling around in my head for a while now: “One of my former teammates coaches in the NHL, one of my former teammates coaches in the AHL, and I... coach in the PJHL.”
That’s not a complaint, and it’s not self-deprecating. It’s just a reality that’s been on my mind more and more lately—especially when I reflect on the journeys each of us has taken in hockey, and how they align with where we are now as coaches.
All three of us—myself, David Bell, and Curtis Sanford—are now coaching at the highest levels we played at. And that’s kind of poetic in its own way. We’ve all ended up exactly where our experiences, development, (and perhaps even our ceilings), led us.
But the paths we took to get here? Very, very different.
The Prodigy: David Bell
Let me start with Bellsy.
David Bell, now the head coach of the Belleville Senators, AHL affiliate of the Ottawa Senators, is a year younger than me and was a teammate of mine in minor hockey and a classmate in elementary school. From the earliest days, we all knew he was special. That sounds like something people say in hindsight, but with Bellsy, we knew back then. Everyone did.
He was a prodigy.
In our system, age groups were split into two-year bands. Bellsy was always playing up a level, and usually affiliated even higher. When he was a U14, he played U16 full-time and affiliated with the U18s. That meant he was regularly on the ice against kids who were physically, mentally, and emotionally years ahead—and still dominating.
At 13, he was offered a Junior C roster spot. At 14, he was full-time in Junior B. These days, the rules wouldn’t even allow that, but back then, if you were good enough, they made room.
And Bellsy? He was more than good enough. At 16, he was offered an underage, undrafted spot with an OHL team. But another team filed a protest, arguing that Bellsy didn’t technically live within that team’s city limits, which made him ineligible under the league’s residency rules. As a result, he ended up playing a third season of Junior B instead.
I still remember his shot. It wasn’t just hard—it was heavy. When Bellsy let it rip with that custom 'Branches' twig, the puck didn’t just travel—it thundered. It came off his stick like a sledgehammer wrapped in black tape—low, heavy, and with a thud that echoed off the boards like a warning shot. It wasn’t just a release—it was a punch to the chest from across the ice. Minor hockey goalies didn’t just stop it if they were lucky; they survived it.
He wore a letter on his jersey in just about every league he played in, Junior and Pro. He wasn't a dominant offensive force, but he was a very tough defensive defencemen who you definitely did not want to antagonize, for fear of receiving his brand of punishment.
In our grade school yearbook, Bellsy wrote that he’d one day send me tickets. And he actually did.
In March 2023, he left me a pair of Belleville tickets at will-call. But he didn’t stop there. He let my son and me in through the side door and gave us a behind-the-scenes look at the Senators' gameday skate before their evening tilt with the Utica Comets. We toured the facilities, visited the coaches' office, and got a glimpse of what pro-level coaching life really looks like.
It wasn’t the first time he’s done something like that. When he was with the OHL’s Barrie Colts, Bellsy invited me down into the coaches’ room and even brought me out onto the ice in the summer to work with junior prospects and OHL regulars. He’s generous with his time, his access, and his knowledge—and he’s never let the title change who he is.
He even came out as a panelist for a Q&A during a prospects camp I was running, alongside another former teammate of mine, Curtis Sanford.
The Quiet Force: Curtis Sanford
Curtis Sanford and I were teammates in Junior C. He was only 15. I was 18. Sometimes we were seatmates on the bus. Even though he was much younger than the rest of our team—which ranged in age all the way up to 21—we knew there was something different about him.
And I’ll be honest, we hung him out to dry more nights than I care to admit. We left him facing odd-man rushes, backdoor plays, and flurries in the crease with minimal help. But Curt never complained. He never got rattled. He just kept showing up, kept battling, and kept making saves he had no business making. It was clear, even back then, that there was something special about the kid.
He didn’t skip levels. He climbed each rung of the ladder with grit and quiet focus. From Junior C, he worked his way through all levels of junior hockey. At one time, he was the all-time wins leader for the OHL's Owen Sound Attack/Platers franchise—until some guy named Jordan Binnington came along and bumped him off the top. He's still the all-time playoffs wins leader for the Owen Sound Attack/Platers franchise.
Curt went undrafted. That would’ve been the end of the road for a lot of goalies. But he just kept going. He earned his way through the ECHL (Second Team All-Star), then the AHL (Second Team All-Star), and eventually the NHL, where he played for St. Louis, Vancouver, and Columbus.
And when his NHL days were done, he took his game overseas—to Lokomotiv Yaroslavl in the KHL—helping them rebuild their franchise after the tragic plane crash that shook the entire hockey world. Not only did he help bring stability and leadership to that locker room, but he also earned KHL Goalie of the Year honours and a First Team All-Star selection.
And just like his playing career, his coaching journey has followed the same steady, relentless climb.
He started with minor and junior players, moved into the AHL in the Vancouver Canucks organization, and now serves as the goaltending coach for the Toronto Maple Leafs.
But no matter how high he’s climbed, he’s never forgotten his roots—or the people he came up with.
A couple months before landing his AHL job, Curt took a two-hour early morning drive from his home to get on the ice for an 8:30 AM skate with my students in a Hockey Canada Skills Academy. No fanfare. No appearance fee. Just Curt, wearing a helmet as Minor Hockey coaches are supposed to do, and a willingness to help young players chase their dreams the same way he did.
That’s the kind of guy he is—humble, selfless, and always willing to give back to former teammates, players, and family.
And Then There’s Me
I didn’t play pro. I didn’t play Major Junior. I didn’t have scouts showing up to games with clipboards or people whispering my name (in a good way) in the stands. I was a member of a team at a decent level, had fun, learned a lot—and now I coach (and General-ly Manage) in the PJHL, the Provincial Junior Hockey League.
On paper, it might seem like the difference between us is a gap. But here’s the thing: all three of us are coaching at the highest level we truly understand.
Bellsy understands pro hockey and pro development leagues because he played it. Curt understands the pressure cooker that is the NHL crease because he lived it. And me? I understand Junior hockey at the PJHL level—the battles, the recruitment, the budgets, the bus rides, the beauty of helping a 17-year-old learn to kill penalties for the first time, or teaching a 20-year-old how to be a leader before he ages out.
And I love it.
Yes, I’ve had opportunities to move on and coach at what many would call “higher” levels. But the truth is, the PJHL is primarily a weekend league, with later-in-the-evening practices, and that schedule allows me to keep my full-time career and still be present with my family. That matters to me. Coaching is part of my life, but it’s not all of it.
That said, when I do eventually retire from my full-time career, I hope there will still be opportunities waiting for me in the coaching world at those higher levels. I’d love the chance to take everything I’ve learned, everything I’ve built, and bring it forward. But I’m not in a rush. I’m proud of the work I’m doing right now.
The "Why" Behind This Reflection
I’m writing this for players, parents, and coaches who are trying to navigate where they fit in this sport—and maybe struggling with what it all means.
There’s this idea in hockey culture that unless you make it to “the top,” you’ve somehow come up short. We need to stop that. Hockey is a big sport with a wide landscape, and success wears different jerseys for different people.
My former teammates are successful coaches at the highest levels. I’m proud of them. But I’m also proud of what I do. I’ve helped players develop enough to move on to Pro, University, Major Junior, and Junior A. I’ve coached some kids through the lowest points of their lives and watched them come out stronger on the other side. That matters. It all matters.
You don't have to be in the NHL to be in the right place.
For Players
If you're reading this and you're not on the “top team” or being followed by scouts, don’t let that define your hockey journey. Yes, David Bell was a prodigy when he was younger—some players are. But not everyone will take that path. And that doesn’t mean you’re doing something wrong. Keep showing up. Keep learning. Your ceiling might look different—but that doesn’t make it any less valuable.
Curtis Sanford wasn’t drafted to the NHL. There were no agents knocking on his door at 15. He started in Junior C as a 15-year-old and, on many nights, we hung him out to dry. But he never complained—he just kept getting better. Quietly. Steadily. He climbed the ladder one step at a time—from Junior C to Junior A, then to pro, the NHL, and even the KHL, where he earned Goalie of the Year honors. Today, he’s part of the coaching staff for the Toronto Maple Leafs.
You don’t have to dominate early. What matters is that you keep developing. Stay patient. Keep pushing. Be the kind of teammate and person that coaches and organizations want to believe in. That’s how Curtis made it. And that’s how you can, too.
So ask yourself: Are you maximizing what you do have? Are you growing every season, every month, every week? That’s what separates the players who move on from the ones who stall out. Not just talent—but commitment to growth.
For Parents
Your child might not be the next Sidney Crosby—and that’s okay. It doesn’t make their hockey experience any less meaningful or valuable. Whether your kid is playing Junior A, B, C, or not playing junior at all, your support matters just as much.
David Bell was a prodigy—always playing up, always excelling. But even with all that talent, he didn’t make the NHL as a player. (Mark my words though—he’ll be there as a coach.)
Curtis Sanford didn’t come from a high-profile program. He went undrafted. What he did have were parents who believed in him, drove him to rinks, supported his decisions, and helped him stay grounded and focused—no matter what level he was at. That foundation didn’t just help him succeed in hockey—it helped him thrive in life.
As a parent, your job isn’t just to chase the next level. It’s to help your child build good habits, strong character, and emotional resilience. If they’re learning those things through hockey, then the game is already paying off in ways that go far beyond the scoresheet.
Encourage development, but also encourage perspective. Teach your kid that hockey is about teamwork, accountability, discipline, and growth. If they’re learning those things, they’re winning—even if they never touch the NHL.
For Coaches
Coaching in the PJHL isn’t glamorous. But it is important.
We’re not just drawing up power plays—we’re teaching life skills. We’re helping players prepare for the next level of hockey—or for life beyond the game. For many of them, this league is the final stop before adulthood. That’s a responsibility I take seriously.
Curtis Sanford is a great example of what belief and mentorship can do. He never skipped levels, but he always moved forward. At every step—Junior C, Junior A, ECHL, AHL—there were coaches who saw something in him, helped him develop, and gave him chances to grow. Now, as the goaltending coach of the Toronto Maple Leafs, he’s paying it forward.
David Bell’s coaching journey is another model worth learning from. He didn’t just land in the AHL overnight. He spent years building his foundation—grinding in minor roles, coaching in the OHL, staying late, studying the game, developing his voice. And even now, coaching at a high level, he’s never lost touch with where he started. He’s opened doors for coaches like me—welcoming me into dressing rooms in the OHL and AHL, inviting me onto the ice with junior prospects, and treating me like a peer, not someone from a “lower” league.
Be that coach. The one who helps a kid believe in themselves when no one else does. The one who supports fellow coaches and stays connected to the grassroots. The one who makes space for others to grow. You might not realize the impact you’re having today—but one day, that player you mentored or that coach you shared a drill with could be behind a pro bench, remembering you.
I may not be coaching under the bright lights or in front of 20,000—or even 5,000—fans. But I’m coaching with heart, and I’m doing it in a league that truly needs good people.
And here’s something else: coaching at this level makes you accessible. My players can text me. They can grab a coffee with me. They can ask real questions and get real answers. That kind of connection is a luxury they might never experience at higher levels.
Full Circle
Sometimes I watch a Bellsy post-game interview on the Belleville Instagram feed or see Curt in the background of a Sportsnet report from Leafs' practice and I smile. Not out of jealousy—but out of genuine pride. I knew those guys when they were still figuring it out, just like me. We were just kids with skates and dreams.
And I still remember that yearbook message: “I’ll send you tickets one day.”
Bellsy did. But he’s also sent me something better—perspective.
You don’t need to be behind a pro bench to be making an impact. You don’t need a national spotlight to be doing important work.
You just need to care about the game, care about the people, and never forget why you started.
So yeah—One of my former teammates coaches in the NHL. One of my former teammates coaches in the AHL. And I... coach in the PJHL.
And I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Further Reading:
Ed Garinger is a seasoned hockey coach, mentor, and educator with over two decades of experience. A native of the Bruce Peninsula, he played minor and junior hockey before earning his BA and BEd from Nipissing University, where he also competed in varsity volleyball and extramural hockey.
Coaching since age 14, Ed has balanced his teaching career with an extensive coaching and development portfolio, working with players at all levels. He has coached in the Provincial Junior Hockey League, led youth and high school teams, and served as a learning facilitator for the OMHA. His experience includes elite programs like the OHL/OHF U15 and U16 camps, U17 Regional Camps, and Hockey Canada’s Skills Academy.
A Hockey Canada HP1-certified coach, USA Hockey-certified coach, and Chartered Professional Coach (ChPC), Ed is committed to ongoing professional development and continually seeks to expand his knowledge to better serve players and coaches. Now based in Orillia, he enjoys passing on his passion for hockey to the next generation.
