In the quiet arithmetic of grief, Pittsburgh Penguins forward Andrei Kuzmenko has chosen the number 62 — his father's age at death, his mother's birth year — to carry on his jersey after Alexander Kuzmenko died in Siberia following a bear attack during a fishing trip. The gesture, announced ahead of a game against Montreal, is less a hockey decision than a human one: a son returning to his profession while refusing to leave his father behind. Across cultures and distances, athletes have long used the rituals of sport to hold what ordinary life cannot contain.
Kuzmenko honors slain father with jersey number change
I am here, I am playing, and I am carrying him with me
What strikes me most is that he came back at all. How much time did he actually take?
The source doesn't specify exactly how long he was away—just that he returned Friday after taking time following the death. It could have been weeks; it could have been less. But you're right that the fact of his return matters. He didn't disappear.
And we should be careful here: we know his father died in a bear attack in Siberia, and we know it happened last month relative to early October 2026. But the source doesn't give us the exact date of the attack, or the exact date of death, or even confirmation of where in Siberia. We have the outline, not the full picture.
The hour-plus fight with the bear—is that Kuzmenko's account, or is it documented somewhere?
It comes from what Kuzmenko told the media himself. He's describing what happened based on what he knows or was told. It's his version of events, which carries weight, but it's not a police report or a coroner's statement.
Exactly. And the two-day survival window—again, that's what Kuzmenko said. We don't have independent verification. It's credible, it's specific, but it's one source.
The number 62 is elegant, though. Father's age, mother's birth year.
It is. And it's the kind of detail that makes the story human. It's not just a tribute; it's a precise one. It tells you something about how he's processing this—by finding meaning in numbers, in connection.
Though we should note: the AP is cited as the source for the significance of 62. So the connection between the number and those two facts came from reporting, not necessarily from Kuzmenko himself explaining it that way.
Does the source say anything about how he's doing, beyond the composure he showed at the press conference?
No. We see him at one moment—composed, deliberate, ready to talk. But we don't know what he's like in private, or how he's managing the grief day to day. The jersey number is the only real window we have into his internal state.
And that's important to acknowledge. A press conference performance, even a genuine one, is still a performance. It tells us he's capable of showing up and speaking clearly. It doesn't tell us the full measure of how he's coping.
Il Polso
- Alexander Kuzmenko survived a bear attack that lasted over an hour during a permitted fishing trip in Siberia, only to die two days later from his injuries.
- His son Andrei, a seasoned NHL forward, faced the particular anguish of losing a parent to sudden, violent, and remote circumstances — the kind of loss that resists ordinary processing.
- Rather than return to the ice in silence, Kuzmenko chose to make his grief visible, abandoning his planned number 10 for 62 — a figure encoding both his father's age and his mother's birth year.
- Standing before reporters at the practice facility, composed and deliberate, Kuzmenko spoke plainly about the tragedy and thanked those who had supported him through it.
- His return to Pittsburgh signals resilience, but the jersey number ensures that every shift he skates becomes an act of remembrance as much as competition.
In the quiet arithmetic of grief, Pittsburgh Penguins forward Andrei Kuzmenko has chosen the number 62 — his father's age at death, his mother's birth year — to carry on his jersey after Alexander Kuzmenko died in Siberia following a bear attack during a fishing trip. The gesture, announced ahead of a game against Montreal, is less a hockey decision than a human one: a son returning to his profession while refusing to leave his father behind. Across cultures and distances, athletes have long used the rituals of sport to hold what ordinary life cannot contain.
Andrei Kuzmenko returned to the Pittsburgh Penguins last Friday with something to explain — not a trade, not a contract, but a number. The 30-year-old forward had been away from the team following the death of his father Alexander, who was killed in Siberia after a bear attacked him during a fishing trip. Alexander fought the animal for more than an hour, survived the initial assault, but died two days later from his injuries.
When Kuzmenko addressed reporters ahead of Saturday's game against Montreal, he was composed — the kind of composure that comes after the hardest facts have already been absorbed. He thanked the media for their patience and acknowledged that, even in grief, the work of others goes on.
Then he explained the number. He had worn 96 throughout his NHL career across Vancouver, Calgary, Philadelphia, and Los Angeles. When he signed with Pittsburgh, he had intended to wear 10. Instead, he chose 62 — his father's age at death, and the year his mother was born. In a single figure, he stitched together two lives into one permanent tribute, one that would travel with him onto the ice every time he played.
In 271 NHL games, Kuzmenko has accumulated 182 points — a record that speaks to his ability to perform under pressure. But no professional experience prepares a person for returning to work after a parent has been killed by a wild animal on the other side of the world. The number 62 is his answer to that impossibility: a way of saying he is present, he is playing, and he is not playing alone.
Andrei Kuzmenko stood before the Pittsburgh Penguins' media contingent on Friday, composed and deliberate, ready to explain a decision that had nothing to do with hockey strategy and everything to do with loss. The 30-year-old forward had returned to the team after an absence following his father's death in Siberia the previous month—a death that came not from illness or accident, but from a bear attack during a fishing expedition.
Alexander Kuzmenko had been on a permitted fishing trip with friends when the animal struck from behind. What followed was a struggle that lasted more than an hour. The elder Kuzmenko survived the initial assault and the hours immediately after, but died two days later from the injuries he sustained. When his son addressed reporters at the practice facility ahead of Saturday's matchup against Montreal, he spoke with the clarity of someone who had already processed the bare facts of the tragedy and was now ready to move forward—at least publicly.
Kuzmenko explained the circumstances plainly, his English carrying the weight of translation and emotion held in check. He thanked everyone for their support during the preceding weeks, acknowledging the role of the media even in grief, understanding that reporters had work to do and deserved his time.
Then he revealed why he had made a change to his uniform. Throughout his NHL career—with Vancouver, Calgary, Philadelphia, and Los Angeles—Kuzmenko had worn number 96. When he signed with Pittsburgh, he had planned to wear number 10. Instead, he would take number 62. The choice was not arbitrary. His father had been 62 years old at the time of his death. His mother had been born in 1962. In a single number, Kuzmenko had woven together two threads of his family's story, creating a permanent tribute that would appear on his chest every time he took the ice.
Kuzmenko had arrived in the NHL for the 2022-23 season after years in the KHL, and in 271 games across five franchises, he had accumulated 182 points—85 goals and 97 assists. He was a professional athlete with a track record, a man accustomed to performing under pressure. But no amount of experience prepares you for the kind of pressure that comes from returning to work after your father has been killed by a wild animal on the other side of the world. The jersey number change was his way of saying: I am here, I am playing, and I am carrying him with me.
Citazioni salienti
My father go permit fishing with friends, and he stayed in the water. And bear stand behind him and attack. And my father fight the bear one hour, 10 minutes and he still lived after two days.— Andrei Kuzmenko, describing his father's death to media