The first time Nick Pastujov ever saw snow, he
was five years old. As a kid from Bradenton, Fla.,
snow was a foreign concept to him.
Sure, it existed on TV where kids would build
snowmen and have snowball fights, but to him, it
was more of an illusion. Movies were the closest
he ever got to it. Then he got his chance.
For the Silver Sticks International Tournament
over Christmas, Nick traveled to Michigan,
and there he saw it: the powdery white flakes.
Naturally, when he got back to Florida, he told
everyone about his encounter, especially his
younger brother, Mike.
So when Mike was eligible for the same
tournament the next year, he had certain
expectations. It would be his turn to see snow
now. But when his flight touched down at Detroit
Metropolitan Airport and the pilot announced
the weather conditions, reality hit hard — it was
warmer in Detroit than Florida. Snow would be
hard to find.
Unfortunately for Mike, the Pastujovs didn’t
hunt for snow like one of his teammates’ family
had. When the tournament was over, and the
Pastujovs were headed back to the airport, Mike
let his feelings show. He started to bawl.
He cried out to his mom, Janis. His only
opportunity to see snow was gone. Wasted. It was
so unfair Nick had seen snow before him.
At five years old, Mike could never have
dreamed all the chances he’d have in the years
to come. He and Nick had no idea hockey would
eventually lead them to Michigan. Hockey hadn’t
yet cemented its place in their lives.
In fact, it was just a few years before the great
snow encounter that the Pastujovs had learned
to skate.
Hockey was still new to Florida when Nick was
born — there wasn’t even a rink nearby his home.
All that changed when he was three, though, and
a rink was built at the next highway exit.
When Nick and Mike’s dad, Gueorgui (George),
heard the news, he was overjoyed.
Born and raised in Russia, hockey was
everything to him. George knew he’d never be
able to teach his sons football. Or baseball. Or
even basketball. But he could share hockey with
them. And so, as soon as the rink was finished,
the family toured it, and George signed Nick up
for lessons.
At just three years old, Nick didn’t have much
say in the matter. Even if he had been old enough,
it’s unlikely his opinion would’ve mattered.
George wanted his sons to play hockey.
“Looking back, I have to take responsibility,”
George said, laughing. “I pushed them as a parent
more towards hockey than anything else. Now
I’m laughing but I was, they didn’t have much
choice. Basically, ‘That’s what you’re doing guys,
you’re playing hockey.’ … At the beginning, I
didn’t really give them many choices.”
The next year, when Mike turned three, he
joined his brother at skating lessons. Unlike their
father, Nick and Mike didn’t fall in love with
hockey instantly. In fact, it was the total opposite
reaction — they hated skating.
Outside of lessons, they’d attend open skates
with their dad. Sometimes their grandpa, or their
cousin when he was in town, would join. On the
ice, the brothers weren’t shy about showing how
they felt about skating. They’d scream. They’d
cry. They didn’t want anything to do with it — to
the point where grandpa had to intervene.
“My grandpa would be up in the stands yelling
at him to take me off the ice and stop, and my dad
wouldn’t stop,” Nick said. “He kept us out there.
At this point, I’m obviously glad he did.”
Eventually, the brothers warmed up to skating,
and the next step was getting hockey sticks in
their hands. Once that happened, Nick and Mike
were sold.
If they weren’t at the rink practicing, they were
in the street. They’d throw pucks against the
house until it was so dark outside they couldn’t
see anything.
If street hockey wasn’t a viable option, they
moved things indoors. In the designated play
area — a space between two of the bedrooms
in the family’s home — Nick and Mike played
mini sticks. They played with their friends. They
played with their youngest brother, Sasha, when
he was born. And every once in a while, Janis
came home from work and saw her mother in the
net, blocking her grandsons’ shots.
While hockey was the priority, it was far from
the only thing the brothers did together. Janis
and George would take them to the YMCA and
they’d play basketball or soccer or go swimming.
But there was one other activity Nick and Mike
tried, their mother’s passion — dance.
It was a bargaining tool. Her sons could spend
all the time they wanted at the rink playing
hockey with their dad, if she could have them at
the dance studio where she taught lessons. Plus,
it was convenient after-school care. So Nick and
Mike took ballet. They didn’t enjoy it, but it kept
them flexible. Once they ventured beyond ballet,
they discovered an affinity for hip-hop.
“I don’t remember ever being any good at it,
but I remember my buddy picked the song,” Nick
said. “It was the basketball song from the first
High School Musical. That’s what we did our
recital to. Thankfully, we outgrew that. I kind of
wish I was better at it now.”
Added Mike: “I mean, I don’t regret it. It’s
different. People made fun of me for it, but I
thought it was cool.”
Eventually they hung up their dancing shoes
and laced up their hockey skates. Holidays were
spent at the rink or traveling to tournaments.
Like the year the Pastujovs spent Thanksgiving
in Niagara Falls, Ontario at a tiny little buffet
place. These trips provided the perfect
opportunity for bonding over long car rides and
seeing the world outside of Florida.
The only holiday hockey didn’t affect was
Halloween, and in the Pastujov household it
became a rite of passage.
The family had a huge bin brimming with
costumes. Every year when October rolled
around, Mike would search through it. The
bin had exactly what you’d expect for a family
with three sons. There’s Batman, Spiderman,
Frankenstein, Dracula, Power Rangers. The list
goes on.
The decision of what costume to pick was
never difficult for Mike. He was just whatever his
brother was the year before.
Usually, Mike didn’t want to copy Nick. Like
all brothers, they competed against each other.
Not just in hockey, in everything. When Nick got
Velcro shoes, Mike seized his opportunity to be
the first one to learn how to tie shoes. And rather
than copying his older brother’s style, Mike was
the one giving Nick tips on how to dress and pick
clothes that complimented each other.
“I never had too good of style,” Nick said.
“There’d be times where I’d get dressed for
church or Christmas dinner, something like that,
and he’d make me go change and he’d pick out a
different outfit for me.”
Growing up, Nick and Mike were inseparable.
That changed in seventh grade when a coach
from a program in Michigan approached George
and Janis about the possibility of Nick joining the
team and moving. Ultimately, they weren’t quite
ready to let Nick go. But the next year, Mike and
Nick’s team started to fall apart. It was the only
triple-A program in Florida. If they wanted to
continue playing hockey, it was going to involve
relocating.
This time, when Honeybaked Hockey — a
different club team than the previous year —
approached the family, Janis was willing to
entertain the idea. They took a visit to Michigan
to get a better feel for what life for Nick would
be like if he moved. Leaving Florida would mean
he’d have to get a billet family.
“He really wanted to do it,” Janis said. “I used
to say I put on my big-girl pants and let him
go do what he wanted to do. As long as he was
happy it was fine. We would come up for all the
tournaments and everything.”
So, he went.
While Nick was in Michigan adjusting to living
with a new family, Mike was adjusting to life
without his older brother. The distance was good
for Nick and Mike’s relationship, too — it helped
them build a more mature, deeper bond. Being
close despite separation proved that the brotherly
connection wasn’t just because of hockey or
proximity, but because they chose to be.
Ultimately, the separation didn’t last longer than
a year. Mike occasionally traveled up to play with
Honeybaked during Nick’s first year. In many
ways, Nick was the family guinea pig. When
Janis and George saw Nick’s billeting experience,
letting Mike do the same was an easier decision.
So, the following year, Mike moved to Michigan.
For Mike, the jump from one state to another
was less jarring because he had Nick to turn to.
He’d ask for advice on feeling comfortable asking
his billet parents for something. Or getting along
with his billet siblings. Or learning to take no for
an answer.
Plus, there was the added benefit of seeing
snow whenever he wanted.
While they lived with different billet families,
Nick and Mike were reunited in every other
sense. They played on the same team, most of the
time on the same line. Every practice, they saw
each other. Sometimes on the weekends, Nick
would go visit Mike at his billet family, or Mike
would go to Nick’s.
“I saw him every day pretty much,” Mike said.
“It wasn’t bad, but it was always weird saying
bye to him at the rink and then going home to
different houses. That was kind of strange.”
Two years after moving to Michigan, the
brothers had a defining moment. After a long
season, their Honeybaked team found itself
playing for the 2013 USA Hockey Tier 1 U14
National Championship game. With under one
minute remaining, Honeybaked was trailing by a
goal to Shattuck St. Mary’s.
After Honeybaked pulled its goaltender, an
extra attacker skated on — Mike. He joined the
attack alongside Nick, who was already on the
ice. Moving back and forth across the blueline,
Nick acted as a bumper to keep the puck in
the zone. He swung the puck back into traffic.
Positioned at the front of the goal, near the edge
of the crease with his stick readied was Mike.
When the puck came his way, he tapped it in.
Raising his arms in celebration and a
combination of running and jumping on skates,
Mike made his way towards Nick. When the
distance got close enough, Nick launched himself
onto his brother.
***
It was Mike who was by Nick’s side when he got
drafted.
That day started the exact opposite of how a
normal day for Nick would go. Anxious about his
chances, he didn’t want to be anywhere near a
TV. He didn’t even want to have cell reception.
And so he and Mike ended up on a deep sea
fishing boat off the coast of Miami. Back on land,
George and Janis watched and waited, hoping for
their son’s name to be called.
Just as the seventh round was starting, the boat
was docking and Nick’s phone was regaining
reception. By this point, he’d given up hope of
being drafted, resigning to the optimism that
there’s always next year. Then out of nowhere,
he got a text welcoming him to the New York
Islanders. He’d been drafted, 193rd overall.
Right by his side when everything was
unfolding was Mike, and he couldn’t have been
prouder of his older brother.
Through the years, they’ve shared countless
other moments, good and bad.
Like the time they both sustained shoulder
injuries that required surgery. Mike had his
during his U17 year with the USNTDP, and Nick
during the summer before his freshman year.
When they needed someone who understood
the process of being injured — the pains of being
sidelined from hockey and rehabilitation — they
didn’t have to look far.
When they arrived at Michigan, Nick and Mike
faced a similar setback. In their respective first
games at the University, neither of them even
laced up their skates. Instead, they remained
in their suits and watched from a section of
the press box designated for the non-dressing
Wolverines.
Having experienced the disappointment
of being scratched the year before, Nick gave
Mike tips and suggestions on how to handle the
situation. It made Mike’s transition to college
hockey a lot less like the fish-out-of-water
experience it is for some players. He had Nick to
guide him.
Five years after their big goal for Honeybaked,
the Pastujovs combined in another monumental
moment — the Frozen Four.
Nick assisted Mike’s late tying goal that
breathed life into the Wolverines against Notre
Dame.
“That was probably the coolest hockey
moment we’ve had,” Nick said. “ … We knew we
had to score. … It’s tough to describe just how
elated and happy (Mike’s goal) made me. Being
able to see him (celebrate) and just be right
behind him was awesome.”
Nick is set to graduate this semester, which
means his days on campus and his games
dressed in a maize and blue sweater are
fleeting. But that means the clock’s running
out on something else, too — the brothers’
time together. This is likely the last year the
Pastujovs will be on the ice, on the same line,
together.
Next season, when Mike enters the offensive
zone along the boards, Nick won’t be trailing
behind, knowing his brother will eventually
cut back and feed him the puck if he gets there
in time. There won’t be a Pastujov celebratory
hug when Nick nets a goal off a pass from Mike,
or vice versa, the way there was last weekend
when the brothers combined for two goals
against No. 6 Penn State.
The most noticeable difference will be the
back of Mike’s jersey. He’ll no longer be “M.
Pastujov.” For the first time in three years, he’ll
get to just be “Pastujov.”
It’s undeniable that hockey has contributed
a lot to the bond Nick and Mike have, but it’s
not solely because of the sport. Their years
together at Michigan have proved that. They’ve
lived together — by choice — the last two years.
Sometimes they cook together. Mike prefers
grilling while Nick sticks to the basics like pasta
and pesto. They’ll watch TV together. On
Sundays, it’s football. Occasionally, they’ll play
it, and sometimes throw a ball in the stands of
Yost Ice Arena during warm-up time. When the
weather allows it, they’ll play golf.
Beyond their hockey dreams, they’ve got a
dream as brothers to own a lake house. In the
northern part of Michigan, where they could
bring their families when they’re older.
And through all the hockey, dance recitals
and fashion advice there’s something glaringly
obvious about the brothers’ bond. Mike and
Nick are much more than brothers.
They’re best friends.
Photos courtesy of the Pastujov Family | Design by Jack Silberman
Sports
8 — Friday, January 24, 2020
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
MOLLY SHEA
Daily Sports Writer