This article comes from the book Good Sports, Athletes your kids can look up to

Alan Muir, who contibuted the chapter featuring Adam Graves, is a senior editor for Beckett Publications.

Adam Graves Selfless Devotion

Adam Graves isn't the sort of guy who likes to talk about himself.

Ask him about scoring a franchise-record 52 goals in 1993-94 with the New York Rangers, and he says he wishes he could cut the puck used for the historic final goal into 25 pieces to thank his teammates. Ask him about helping the Rangers end their 54-year Stanley Cup drought in 1994, or his first Stanley Cup with the Oilers in 1990, and he immediately defers credit to those around him in the dressing room.

Ask him about his selfless devotion to community service, and he'll deflect praise as easily as he does a low, hard shot from the point. "I just consider myself fortunate," he'll say simply.

Adam Graves may be a great hockey player. But he's a far better person.

"I don't think he realizes how much people look up to him," former junior teammate and best friend Glen Featherstone told the New York Times. "Adam's the kind of guy that, if he picked up garbage for a living, he'd still be doing charity [work]. It's not about [feeling some kind of responsibility] as a hockey player. It's about what kind of a person he was.

Selflessness is a lesson Graves learned early in life. Growing up in North York, Ontario, a suburb of Toronto, Graves shared his home and his parents' love with more than 50 foster children.

"We were all treated the same," Graves told Sports Illustrated. "We shared everything. I never felt that my mum or my dad loved these kids any less than they loved me or my two biological sisters."

A lot of kids would have had problems with this arrangement. Not Adam. The newcomers, typically troubled children from abusive backgrounds, were welcomed as brothers and sisters. To this day, Adam thinks of every child who passed through the home as family.

Graves may be the perfect example of the nice guy finishing first. After being selected by the Detroit Red Wings in the second round of the 1986 NHL Entry Draft, Graves led his junior team, the Windsor Spitfires, to the Ontario Hockey League Championship and the Memorial Cup Finals in 1988.

Although he didn't flourish immediately upon entering the NHL the following season, Graves persevered. After brief stints in Detroit and Edmonton, he ultimately earned recognition as a Second-Team NHL All-Star in 1993-94 and appeared in his first All-Star Game that season.

If he were the sort of guy who took satisfaction in individual acclaim, he'd probably be prouder still of winning the King Clancy Award that season, for leadership on and off the ice and contributions to the community. If it were possible to win the award multiple times, there's no doubt his quiet heroism would have forced the league to create another trophy to let other players have a chance.

"People sometimes get the impression that any kind of community work is all show with athletes," says former junior teammate Peter DeBoer. "Not Adam. He's always the first in line whenever anyone needs help. He's so genuine. The amazing thing is, as much as you see him do, there's so much else he does that people never hear about. It's a priority with him."

Not that his on-ice efforts have suffered. After battling through a series of injuries and changing roles on the Rangers, Graves returned to the goal scoring charts in 1998-99, potting 38, good for 11th overall.

As pleasing as rediscovering his offensive touch ---and a new three-year, $12 million contract with New York --- must be, Adam remains refreshingly down to earth, and very cognizant of his responsibilities.

"I'm very fortunate," he told SI. "I had a mum and dad and a family when I was growing up. They taught me how to live. You try to teach others the same things.

"You know, I love hockey. I love to play the game, love everything about it, but it's not real [life] is it? Making sure kids feel wanted, making sure they grow up right, that's what 's important." We'd all be fortunate to remember that ourselves.