Remembering Ryan Bradford

By Dallas Hansen, 13 April 2007

On Wednesday I got an email from Neil Valka, a school chum from sixth through twelfth grades, whose message was shocking.

"It's with deep sadness that I pass this information on to you guys," Neil wrote. "The legend we know as RB passed away 2 days ago."

It seemed impossible. Ryan, more than anyone else, was the living embodiment of the word "mellow." Reserved, easygoing, perpetually uplifting, Ryan's large brown eyes, curly blond hair, wide smile and slight spare tire made him seem like a six-foot-tall real-life Teddy Bear.

Back in 1991, Ryan was one of the first persons with whom I had ever ridden a skateboard. Outside Samuel Burland elementary in south St. Vital, we used to practice after school, and I recall the board Ryan rode at the beginning of that spring, a Powell Ray Barbee with a ghostly character shuffling cards, a red cap with the letters "RB" atop its head. "RB—Ray Barbee and I have the same initials, so that worked out good," he said, and the abbreviated moniker stuck with him throughout the next sixteen years of his life.

Ryan brought colour to the dull suburb where we lived. He had a love for hip-hop and punk rock music, snazzy clothes, and good jokes. He was a always a welcome asset to the weekend parties Dave Young hosted throughout high school, his always-positive aura and benign giggle subtly, unfailingly lifting all our moods.

About a year ago, in a nostalgic moment, I had been thinking of RB and the rest of the Burland skate crew—Team Snob, we called ourselves, because unlike the duct-taped skaters of the day we prided ourselves on having fresh boards and sneakers. Through some sleuthing, I found Neil Valka's phone number and made an attempt to organize a reunion. But RB, he had told me, had joined the military and would thus be unavailable. It wouldn't be a proper reunion without him, so I decided to postpone things until RB was discharged.

Back in '91 it seemed as though we could never run out of time. Even in '07 I thought there would be plenty of opportunity for a Team Snob reunion: Dave Young, Dave Beckel, Neil Valka, Chonrad Bautista, Pat Reid, Jason Unger, Kevin Fraser, and Ryan Bradford—all of us together again, shredding at Burland, or Firestone, or McDowell, maybe even Library Park, or just pushing around the streets of River Park South and enjoying all the sensations of gliding through smooth, newly paved suburban streets. We felt like rebels then, delinquents, but in retrospect it was such an innocent thing, riding up and down the sidewalk in front of Burland practicing our ollies, or jumping down the three stairs (which have since been barricaded to preclude skateboarding) off to the side of the school. It was a great era in my life, and Ryan Bradford made it so.

www.dallashansen.com

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