The Life: Did you play hockey growing up?
Drake: Yeah, I did. I played for the Weston Red Wings.
The Life: Were you pretty good? What position did you play first of all?
Drake: Right wing.
The Life: A fast little guy?
Drake: Yeah, I was all right. I ended up making it to Upper Canada College hockey camp, which is where good kids get sent.
The Life: And then what happened?
Drake: And then I got cross checked in the neck and my mother wouldn't let me play anymore.
The Life: And then you went into acting and played a guy that ended up in a wheelchair, so it was bound to happen eventually.
Drake: There you go, in a wheelchair one way or the other.
Perfect. So perfect. Why did Drake end up saying goodbye to such a "promising" hockey career at such a young age? His prototypical Jewish mother, Sandi, thought it was too dangerous. If there's one thing I know about coming up in the Graham household it's that there was an emphasis on avoiding pain - whether it be physical variety caused by a crosscheck or the mental anguish caused by the loving of a women. Anything that hurts poor Aubrey is immediately off limits. Is there any doubt that Drake went awkwardly into the boards and his mother already had one foot on the ice screaming his name before he even had a chance to pick himself up? No doubt that Drake's mother was about two decades ahead of the NFL on concussion protocol. Probably dragged him off the ice by the back of his jersey multiple times to make sure her baby had a 100% clean bill of health.
Honestly, I have the sneaking suspicion that our boy Drake was one of those kids that was always hurt. I remember growing up there was always that one guy on the team. The guy that couldn't hit the ice without it turning into some sort of full scale production. The guy that would stay down, and his teammates instantaneous reaction would be to roll their eyes. Think about it. The dude is a millionaire a hundred times over. He's sleeping with diva after diva. Model after model. Living one of the most lavish lives on the Planet Earth. Then you turn on his music and you'd swear he's endured more collective heartbreak than every chick on a Spanish soap opera since 2003. If that exaggeration of misery isn't characteristic of the type of fragile dude that required an ice pack and the sympathy of every parent in the building every time he blocked a wrist shot then I don't know what the hell is. Just look at the kid in that picture and tell me he didn't show up to every single practice with a limp and a doctor's note. That's the only attitude I can think of that results in someone growing up to become a lovesick superstar singer that's embraced the role of the victim while fucking Rihanna in 'Marvin's Room'.