Ironic, the lead in the NHL.com hit like one of his hooks.
“Royal Canadian Mounted Police in Alberta have confirmed that Winnipeg Jets forward Rick Rypien, 27, was found dead…”
The Rick Rypien? Dead? There was no way.
No, that can’t be. Not when he was going to become a folk hero on another team, just like he did with his last three. The guy who’d never back down from a fight, who excelled at the nitty-gritty, who got by on gumption, heart and hard work…he was dead?
It couldn’t be.
After all, he was heading to Winnipeg, one of those places that was almost tailor-made for the Coleman, AB-native. It was going to be him, Tanner Glass and Chris Thorburn on that fourth line. The three would channel the Hanson brothers by beating the holy hell out of everyone, scoring sporadically, and sending the crowd into hysterics.
There was no way that the greatest fourth line constructed wouldn’t see the light of day.
Sure, he had some issues over the past year. Who could forget the Minnesota incident, where Rypien went after a fan and Vancouver coach Alain Vigneault had to restrain Rypien from receiving a homicide charge?
But Rypien had taken the leave of absence, gotten the clean bill of health from the doctor, and gone back to doing his thing with the Manitoba Moose.
Now he was dead?
I threw on the two videos of Rypien that were his best representation. Introducing Rick Rypien, and Verison 2.0, 16 minutes worth of the best that #37 had to offer.
And then I broke down.
See, as a reporter, I’m not supposed to admit that I had a modicum of emotion towards this guy. I’m supposed to stand here and say something about what Rypien’s death means to the game, and how it affects the NHL and why fighting should or shouldn’t be allowed in hockey.
I can’t do that. It’d trivialize what Rypien’s career meant. Besides, there are a million other people out there who are looking at this stuff. Let them figure out what the heck this means.
The only thing it means to me is that my hero is dead.
The first time I saw Rick Rypien was his fight against Hal Gill. Gill, a defenseman for the Montreal Canadiens, stands something like 6-foot-7 and weighs near 240 pounds.
Rypien? He was listed at 5-foot-11, but there was no way he topped 5-foot-9. And he might have weighed 180 pounds soaking wet.
Yet here was the guy from Vancouver, trading blows with Gulliver, holding his arm over his head so that he wouldn’t get crushed by one of Gill’s blows.
I can still hear Gord Miller’s famous line, “Somebody get him a ladder.”
Despite the disadvantages, Rypien left the fight with all of his faculties intact. In fact, the smaller man controlled the fight, never allowing Gill to utilize his spectacular reach advantage.
Which left one question. Who was this guy?
Rypien had played a little before that season, appearing in 41 NHL games for the Canucks. Other than that, he had spent most of his time with the team’s minor league affiliate, the Manitoba Moose. Before then, he played for the Regina Pats, a team in the Western Hockey League.
But it was the stories about the kid that painted a picture of a person who had clawed and scrapped to get to where he had gotten, a person who would do whatever was necessary to make it to the highest level.
Like how Rypien went undrafted to not only the NHL, but to the WHL as well.
No matter. He went on to become a hero in both leagues, even captaining the Pats during the 2004-‘05 season.
How he profusely thanked the Pats for giving him an opportunity to play the game, to the point that he posted a letter on the team’s website, thanking the fans for their support.
It was as if he couldn’t believe how much people loved to see him play.
How Rypien’s conditioning and work ethic were legendary, to the point that he completed a drill so quickly that none of his peers could believe it.
The drill? Running up Grouse Grind, a 2.9 kilometer trail known as “Mother Nature’s Stairmaster.”
From there, Rypien became an important addition to the Canucks, a fourth-line center who could provide a physical force, play the penalty kill, and, yes fight.
Boy, could he fight.
Rypien could and would routinely fight bigger, stronger players. He’d take on all comers, fighting known tough guys, like Chris Neil, Brad Staubitz and Matt Carkner. And using the boxing skills from his family, Rypien would go to work.
Did he always win? Of course not. No enforcer is that good.
But Rypien always showed up. Even if the opponent outweighed him by 50 pounds and was known for knocking people unconscious, he showed up.
Because of that, he managed to parlay minimal talent and size into a career in hockey.
There are plenty of athletes with more size and skill who wished they could repeat that phrase.
Unfortunately, that’s not how most people will remember him.
The way most non-hockey fans will remember Rypien is that earlier-mentioned event in Minnesota.
To be honest, that’s the saddest part of this whole debacle. Millions of people will remember Rick Rypien for the moment where he lost control. He’ll never get the chance to redefine his career, like Joe Corvo or Terry O’Reilly.
The defining moment of Rypien’s career is his attacking someone in the stands.
Not his battle against depression, which led to two separate stints where Vancouver granted him a leave of absence.
Not his stretching minimal talent, making NHL despite being smaller than the average NHL player and possessing nearly no skill with the puck.
Not his scraps with Brandon Prust, a series of battles that made every hockey fan’s hair stand on end.
To be perfectly honest that’s what made me break down. Not that I’d never see another Rypien fight, or that he’d never lace them up again.
That his career would be defined by his mistake.
I promise this last bit will all make sense at the end.
I love the Winnipeg Jets. I’ve been calling for them to come back for years.
Yes, it’s a franchise that’s had few Hall-of-Famers, and has won exactly two playoff series in it’s history.
And sure, Winnipeg isn’t the prettiest city in the world.
But the fans are passionate and loyal, and care about the city.
So when I heard the franchise was coming back, I was excited. When I heard that they were bringing back the Jets, I was even happier.
Originally, I was going to drive to the first game, but little things like “classes” and “graduating on time” got in the way.
And then the Jets went out and signed Rypien. Not only that, but he was going to wear 11…which, coincidentally, happens to be my favorite number.
So, to review: My favorite current player was about to wear my favorite number for my second-favorite team.
Not only was I driving to Winnipeg, I was definitely buying a Rypien jersey when I got there.
Now?
Well, there’s no chance that I’m going to the first Winnipeg game, but I’ll certainly watch it somewhere.
As for the Rypien jersey? It’s still coming. I’m ordering it as soon as I can.
Hopefully, when I see it, I won’t break down again.
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