Michael Abelson: A Tribute

By Walter Cicha, Ph.D.

When I joined the UHF and the NY Blues mid-season (January 16^th to be exact) in a game against the Bruins, one person in the dressing room almost immediately went out of his way to make the “the new guy” feel welcome.  His cheerful appearance and hilariously self-deprecating demeanor made it impossible not to like him and our broad ranging chat almost made me miss the opening face-off, as I am the world’s slowest dresser at the best of times.

We won my inaugural game, during which my “mentor” was as likeable on the ice as off, intensely keeping he Bruins’ forwards at bay while never hesitating to pass the puck to a Blues teammate as soon as it came his way.  His commentary on the bench kept the game in perspective, never letting the rest of us forget that we were there for fun.

A week later, our pre-game discussions continued.   I learned that my mentor was a serious hobby photographer, as am I, and thus our friendship was sealed.  It was in the middle of this game against the Blues’ nemesis, the Red Ants, that Mr. Abelson managed to get himself into a fight, which I never would have predicted from my first game and locker room impressions.  I had a front row seat to the scuffle, keeping a couple Red Ants at bay as Mike and his foe briefly slugged it out.

The third game was played without Mike -- the slight and seemingly highly uncharacteristic disagreement the week prior had earned him a one game suspension.  Being who he was, he spent the game taking exceptional photographs of the action, which I will forever treasure.  The league was very lucky to have Mike the player/photographer on board.

I returned on March 7^th from a two-week trip to Europe and to my horror learned from another friend on the Blues, Bruce Thompson, that Mike had suffered heart failure during a friendly game at Albany Airport Rink on March 2^nd and passed away.  I am still in disbelief.  Having lost another young friend tragically on June 29^th of last year-- the 32-year old cyclist/physicist Dr. David T. Ryan, who was killed by a speeding motorist in Clifton Park – I could not help hearing Billy Joel’s words in my head: only the good die young…     

I am now the oldest player on the NY Blues, being three months younger than was Mike, who would have turned 43 in a few days.  We joked about this quite a bit, he and I, the old men.  Mike was one of those rare people who unflinchingly stood by what he believed, even in the face of adversity.  The easiest road was not the best road, he would concur.  Our friendship had quickly developed enough mutual trust that we had already discussed these and other such topics, mostly electronically, in a span of just over a month.

Mike, you will be dearly missed by many…  You are surely in a beautiful place.

March 10, 2005