ASU Hockey Players Demand Coach's Leave After Teammate's Coma

Seven Arizona State hockey players sat down with an attorney and wrote a 26-page letter to university president Michael Crow in late September, asking him to remove their head coach and his staff from their positions. The reason: a workout on August 20 that left their teammate Matthew Mayich in a coma on life support.

Mayich, a sophomore, collapsed during what the players describe as a grueling outdoor session conducted by an ex-U.S. Army Green Beret. The university had already completed an initial review of the incident, concluding that Mayich had not received adequate hydration and that medical care after his collapse was insufficient. But the seven players—writing anonymously because they feared retaliation from coach Greg Powers—disputed the university's account of what actually happened that day. They wanted Powers and his assistant coaches placed on administrative leave, arguing that remaining in their positions created an impossible situation: the coaches controlled playing time, scholarships, and roster decisions, yet the players were expected to speak truthfully about the incident without fear of consequences.

According to the letter, the water break came roughly 40 minutes into the 75-minute workout, not the 20 minutes the university's review had stated. And it was barely a break at all—just a few seconds at the bottles before players were ordered back to work. Only about eight players actually drank water, those who had finished a bear crawl drill first. Mayich was still crawling when his teammates were pulled away from the water. The ex-Green Beret, the players noted, later acknowledged he had forgotten about the need for a water break, then added that he didn't drink water during combat missions—a remark the players found both irrelevant and troubling.

Mayich showed distress early. He became disoriented during the bear crawl and could not carry a teammate during a buddy carry exercise. No one at the university monitored him closely during the workout, and no one intervened. When he finally collapsed, he lay in direct sunlight for several minutes before teammates carried him into the shade—a detail that contradicted the university's report, which stated he had sat upright twice. The cooling measures available were towels from a cooler, water from bottles, and a garden hose. This was August in Arizona, where temperatures regularly exceed 100 degrees. Mayich, who was from Ontario, had spent most of his free time in his air-conditioned apartment because the heat was too oppressive. Previous outdoor workouts had lasted about 15 minutes before moving inside.

When Powers first spoke to the players about Mayich's condition, he called it a "little heat stroke." He added that the workout had brought them "closer to making the Frozen Four"—the college hockey equivalent of the Final Four in basketball. The players wrote that Powers seemed not to grasp the severity of what had happened to their teammate. When asked about the incident weeks later, Powers declined to comment, citing the difficult time it had been for the program.

The letter laid bare a structural problem: the players who witnessed the workout and could speak to what actually occurred were entirely dependent on the people they were being asked to hold accountable. They could not separate themselves from Powers and his staff. Scholarship money, playing time, their place on the roster—all of it flowed through the same people whose conduct they were questioning. "We should not have to choose between telling the truth about August 20 and keeping what we have worked our whole lives for," they wrote.

As the letter circulated in late September, the Arizona State hockey program was preparing to begin its 2026-27 season on Friday against Lindenwood. Mayich remained in a coma, his condition unchanged. The university had not yet responded to the players' request for administrative leave.