“Are you Henrik or Daniel?”
“Look! It’s Dendrik!”
“You know who you look like? Those Sedin guys.”
These are just three examples of comments and questions I’m constantly plagued with. Life as a Sedin is a little less glamorous than one would think, especially when you’re not a real Sedin.
That’s me on the right, photoshopped, and pretty much a perfect fit. Here’s a brief history behind my experience as the third Sedin.
Much like the Sedin twins, who only seem to grow more popular with time, the comments regarding our similarities are constantly on the rise. When they were first drafted by the Vancouver Canucks, clean-shaven and smiling, nobody said a thing to me. Maybe it was the lack of their beards, maybe not – I’ll get back to that later. Either way, when the fall of 2010 arrived, so did the comments. Granted, it was a hot season for the twins, and the Canucks for that matter, so perhaps their popularity was finally reaching the demographic of geniuses who specialize in spotting look-a-likes and just have to say something. Either way, that was the period in my life when I was awarded the nickname, ‘Dendrik.’
When the winter hit, and 2010 said goodbye, the comments exploded. In January, I began to notice they were occurring daily, and by the time spring rolled around, I was counting at least three Sedin comments per day. At work, in the grocery store, in the gym – it didn’t matter. And what made matters worse, was the repeat offenders. When people would ask, or throw out a less than clever Sedin jab, I would typically revert back to the, ‘Dendrik,’ explanation and claim I was the third, and less athletic Sedin. Thankfully, ‘Dendrik,’ was usually something the observer couldn’t outwit(with the exception of the one member of Mensa who stuck with calling me Heimlich), so they would chuckle and continue on their way. Tragically, if I saw that person again, I was undoubtedly greeted with, “Hey, it’s Dendrik!” Each time, I died a little more inside.
And since the Sedins aren’t considered hunks, my appearance didn’t become any more appealing to the opposite sex. The worst part was some women would actually say, “The Sedins? They’re ugly,” right in front of me after somebody had noticed the resemblance. In one situation another woman stuck up for the gingers, claiming they were attractive men, but the first woman, who thought they weren’t, stood her ground and protested that they were in fact less than handsome gentlemen. And right on cue, I died a little more inside.
Of course the Stanley Cup was a nightmare. I’m sure the twins were exhausted, but there were times when I would have gladly taken that big hit Tim Thomas delivered to Henrik, over the witty remarks I was battling whereever I went. When the Canucks lost in game 7, I stayed in for the night…and the next day.
For the first week or so after their loss to Boston, I put up with the inquiries and theories about my brothers’ performances in those final playoff games (all were side-splitting, naturally) and before I knew it, things had died down to the standard three a day.
Around that same time, when people were moving forward with their lives and looking towards the next season, a man pointed at me and said, “You look like one of those hockey guys.”
I nodded and replied, “Yep. Ryan Kesler.”
His eyes widened and he asked with amazement, “You’re his brother?”
Now getting back to the beard theory. In the fall of 2011, I shaved my beard and hypothesized the comments would cease. Afterall, it must have simply been the ginger beards that caught people’s eyes. Right?
On day three of being clean-shaven and Sedin comment free, when I was working at new job, a question was raised about who could help out with a certain task…one man, who I’d never met before piped up and said, “Give it to Sedin over there,” and gestured to the very spot I was standing. Everybody laughed, a single tear fell from my eye, and once again I died a little more inside.