We were losing to Pittsburgh three games to one in the second round of the 2014 playoffs and were flying into Pittsburgh for Game 5. As we were beginning our descent, my phone rang. In all the travel I had done throughout my career, my phone never rang while I was still in the air. It was the worst phone call I have ever received.
It was my father calling to tell me that my mom had suffered a heart attack and had died. She was only 63.
She was always my biggest fan even though she didn’t know much about hockey. Very little, actually — there were times when she’d watch a game and have no idea that I’d even scored until my father told her. What she did know was how important hockey was to me, so she did everything in her power to support my pursuit of it.
Most men make this assumption that they take after their father. I recognize many traits I have that come from my dad, like my work ethic and athleticism, but when I look deeper inside, I see just how much of me and my success can be attributed to my mom. To become a professional hockey player, you absolutely need to be able to shoot and skate at a world-class level, but that’s not enough. What my mom gave me was the mental toughness to not let anything stand in the way of my dream.