The NYT has a feature on former NY Ranger Brian Leetch, who is in sort-of semi-retirement from pro hockey. The story also talks to three of his former teammates -- Mike Richter, Adam Graves and Mark Messier -- about making that difficult decision that it was time to quit something they loved doing and that had defined them as persons.
Brian Leetch remembers sitting on his couch, watching his children play. He had no energy in his tired body to join them, and his mind would stray to hockey. He was home, resting with his family between games and practices, but not really there at all.
Now, Leetch makes lunch for his 6-year-old son, Jack, and takes him to school. He gets down on the floor to play with all three of his children. He plans activities for his family, and some days, the only skating he does is with Jack on an outdoor rink in Boston Common.
“It’s been great,” Leetch said in a recent telephone interview from his home in Boston. “I used to always be thinking about the game. It’s a big weight off my shoulders. I get to enjoy being a dad.”
This is semi-retirement for Leetch, a defenseman who spent the first 16-plus seasons of his career with the Rangers. He has decided not to play this season, so far, although at 38 he has not yet called it a career. He and his wife, Mary Beth, have stayed in Boston, where Leetch played last season.
He said he still received calls from teams with offers to play, but none had felt quite right, including a possible return to the Rangers.
As it is for many athletes, the decision to retire is difficult, fraught with issues of identity and with planning a future that is almost impossible to envision.
Fortunately for Leetch, he has three friends to lean on — Mike Richter, Adam Graves and Mark Messier — cherished teammates from the Rangers who have already navigated this rough stretch of life.
Richter was a goaltender who was forced to retire in 2003 after a series of concussions. Graves, a left wing, realized in 2003 that his battered body could not withstand another season. And Messier, a center, wrestled with the decision until 2005, when at 44 he finally admitted he was done.
“I don’t think there’s ever a good way to say goodbye, to call it the end,” Messier said. “I’d been playing hockey since I was 3 years old. Every memory I have is with the game. When the time comes to say it’s over, it’s never easy.” ...
For Leetch, the transition from his years as a Ranger has been difficult. He was stunned when the team traded him to Toronto on March 3, 2004, his 36th birthday, and acknowledged that he still harbored hard feelings. He struggled with his return to Madison Square Garden as an opposing player — last season as a member of the Bruins.
He said that he had discussions about returning to the Rangers this season, but that he could not overcome his lingering bitterness about the way he left. He said he still saw himself as a full-time player and was concerned that teams would use him in a lesser role. “I don’t want to diminish what I did in my 16 years there,” Leetch said.
When Leetch returned to the Garden last season, his three closest hockey friends watched from a luxury box upstairs. Messier said it was painful, knowing how uncomfortable Leetch was to be in that situation. Messier and Graves had each returned to the Garden as an opponent — Messier in the three seasons he played for Vancouver between stints with the Rangers, and Graves in two seasons with the San Jose Sharks to finish his career.
Richter remembered how hard it was even to step on the ice when the Rangers retired his number in 2004.
The three of them silently hoped that Leetch would be back on a better occasion, that the Rangers would sign him again and that he would end his career where it began.
“I wanted him to be where his heart really is,” Messier said. “I hoped he could come back and play another two years, and finish his career with a sense of fulfillment.”
The three retired friends know how difficult it is to end a career, no matter how it happens. The years they spent as teammates are a hard act to follow. Life is less intense, less focused on one goal.
“You’d like a storybook ending,” Richter said. “But sometimes it doesn’t happen. Then you have to find a new career, and you hope it feeds your soul like the last one did.”
And sometimes, when stuck in between, you spend a little time skating with your kids.