By Daniel Huss

Correspondent

Tuesday, Ryan Shuman and friends transformed the St. Andrew Lutheran Church into another Eden Prairie Community Center.

Hockey sticks littered the sanctuary, some red, some blue. Eagles jerseys and letter jackets pockmarked the packed house. The back row even featured a line-up of dads, dressed in leather jackets peering in as if they were about to question a call.

Beside the altar sat a goal, adorned with home whites and road blacks.

In front the altar lay Shuman’s body.

If you didn’t know better, you’d swear everyone had a cold.  Eyes were red and watery. Noses were wiped constantly, some even on sleeves.

And in front of the altar, lay the body of a 17-year-old, his life snuffed out by a form of cancer we can neither spell nor pronounce.

Rhabdomyosarcoma, it even sounds ugly.

But don’t feel sorry for Shuman; as he never felt sorry for himself.

“If anyone ever asked how he’s doing, he’d turn it around,” said his dad, “and ask how you’re doing?

“It wasn’t in him,” he adds, “to let anyone know how bad he really was or how much it really hurt.”

Ryan was the kid who begged for the next shift, the next brownie, or the next day.

His parents say he was the best of sons, his friends say he was the best of friends.

“He was as strong, as determined, and as courageous as anyone I’ve met,” said his dad.

Passion play

Shuman’s life, even when he was sick, revolved around sports.

According to his dad, he started to play hockey, just to get the jersey.

He made games out of math before making games out of math were considered cool. Bet you didn’t know that Bobby Orr (No. 4) plus Bobby Hull (No 9) equals Mats Sundin (No.13)? Or that Hull plus Slinden equals Ulf Dahlen (No.22), one of Shuman’s all-time favorite players.

The highest level of hockey Shuman ever achieved was Bantam A.

As a sophomore, he had spot on the Eden Prairie High School varsity team, but never had the opportunity to play.

Lee Smith, head coach of the Eden Prairie High School hockey team, remembers the determination, the phone calls, the e-mails, and the updates.

“If the doctor said he could skate,” said Smith, “I’d be the first one he’d call.”

There was a time, shortly before his sophomore year, that everyone, including his doctors, thought he had this cancer thing licked.

In July of 2005, he’d serve as the honorary chair for the Eden Prairie Relay for Life, even going on a survivor’s walk.

“We’ve thought he had it beat a couple times,” said John Kruse, one of best friends/hockey buddies; “that time for sure. We even started lifting together.”

Four months later, the cancer would return, this time with a vengeance.

But as sick as he was, he still wanted to be part of the game, so Smith crowned him team statistician.

Mr. Positive

In spite of having one setback after another, Shuman remained positive.

So much so, that even on Friday, the day he died, his friends still thought he was going to pull through.

“He always did,” said Adam Heimer, one his best friends. “That’s why when I woke up on Saturday, I thought it was all a dream.”

Kruse, who still shakes his head in disbelief, remembers how “good” his friend was just a week ago.

“We were there a week ago Sunday to bring him over a set team warm-ups,” he said. “He didn’t look great, but he was moving around and talking and laughing.

“I knew he was in pain,” he adds, “but I never thought he was that close to dying.”

And why would he? “I never heard him say he had cancer,” said Kruse. “And I never heard him say he was sick. He would say he was a little sick, but that’s it.”

Heimer said what his friend went through puts everything else in perspective.

“How ever hard I think I have it,” he said, “it’s nothing compared to what Ryan went through.”

Inspiration

Shuman was the poster boy for dogged determination.

“Ryan never gave up, his body did,” he said.

The tip off to the seriousness of Ryan’s condition was fact that he hadn’t attended a day of school of this year.

Still, he wanted to graduate with his class.

“He had goals of graduating from high school and then going off to college,” said dad. “He even had a tutor.”

As he says this, he comes to the realization that those things are never going to happen.

“I’ve spent 29 months thinking that this could happen,” he said. “Still, I never believed it would happen.

“If there’s good thing in any of this,” he adds, “it’s that he’s no longer in pain and no longer suffering.”

Smith, who sought the comfort of the elder Shuman’s shoulder when his son was seriously ill, remembers a phone conversation he had one winter night.

“We both told each other what was going on and then for the next 10 minutes we just cried,” he said.

Throughout out this, Smith said he has a better appreciation for just how precious life really is.

“If this can happen to a healthy 15-year-old,” he said, “we’re all susceptible.”

What do you do?

“Evaluate everything,” he said. “Hug your spouse, hug you kids and don’t ever take anything for granted.”

Ryan Shuman lived his life that way, begging for the next shift, the next brownie, and most of all, the next day.