When a beloved athlete retires, sportswriters who have crossed paths with them rush to share their favorite behind-the-scenes anecdotes.
I wish I had one specific story about my experience covering Pekka Rinne, who called it a career Tuesday after 15 NHL seasons, that encapsulates who he is. I certainly spent enough time around the guy, having followed him and the Predators for more than six years.
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There definitely are moments that leap to mind.
The irrepressible smile on his face inside the visitors’ dressing room on Jan. 9, 2020, at United Center in Chicago after he fulfilled his dream of scoring a goal.
The tearful acceptance speech he gave in Las Vegas after winning the Vezina Trophy on his fourth try in 2018.
The rare display of anger in Game 7 of the 2016 second round against the San Jose Sharks, smashing his stick against the post.
The awe on children’s faces when he greeted them outside the dressing room after home games, win or lose, bending his 6-foot-5 frame to get down on their level.
And of course, his last game May 10, which was straight out of a Disney movie. (Admittedly, I was verklempt as he took his lap around the rink.)
Pieced together, these tidbits tell the story of a fierce competitor who understood the responsibility of being the face of a franchise on and off the ice.
I spent most of Tuesday calling several of Rinne’s former teammates, hoping to uncover never-before-heard stories about him in his most unguarded moments. Rinne knew how to let loose, they assured me. But none were willing to go on the record with those tales, at least not yet.
In all of those conversations, though, a common theme emerged.
“He’s such a good dude,” former Predators forward Joel Ward said. “I know a lot of guys say, ‘So-and-so’s a good dude,’ but Pekka, he’s just the ultimate guy, man. I think my mother would trade me for him, to be honest with you.”
Former Predators goaltender Chris Mason, now the color analyst on the team’s television broadcasts, recalled a team dinner in San Jose during a 2013 road trip.
“Before the server came over, we say to each other, ‘It’s going to probably be a tough night for the server. Let’s try to make her night or his night by being extra polite and just take it to the next level, let the server know throughout the night that they’re doing a good job and make sure they feel appreciated because they’re going to have to deal with 20 guys yelling and screaming,’” Mason said.
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“That night, every time the server came over, we would talk to her and made sure we greeted her properly and just said, ‘If you have any problems with any of the guys, please let us know.’ And Pekka, the charm that he has, it’s such a genuine presence, and he’s just got this aura about him. You could just see as soon as he started speaking to her, she got at ease, because I’m sure it’s a little bit intimidating or maybe annoying when you have to deal with a table of 20 people.
“It doesn’t matter who you are. He will treat everybody the same. He’ll treat everybody with the utmost respect. That night sticks out to me because you could just see the impact that he has on other people. She didn’t know who he was. She didn’t know it was Pekka Rinne, the superstar goalie. It was just a guy being nice to people like he does every single day. … It’s not like it was something that he just decided to do one night. That’s the thing that’s special about him. It doesn’t matter if he’s going through a tough time or a tough stretch in hockey. His personality transcends anything that he does on the ice.”
When Rinne walked into the news conference room at Bridgestone Arena on Tuesday morning, he wrapped 26-year-old Nathaniel Bone in a hug. Bone, anointed “King of Smashville” last year, has brain cancer and befriended Rinne through the 365 Pediatric Cancer Fund the goaltender co-founded with former Predators captain Shea Weber.
“He made me feel really special as a cancer patient and as a fan,” Bone said. “You can’t say enough.”
Bone is right. There are not enough words, even in the endless expanse of the internet, to properly convey what Rinne has meant to Nashville. (When my wife told her 75-year-old coworker, a big Rinne fan, that he was retiring, she called her husband to break the news once the initial shock subsided.)
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We millennials have ruined the word “classy,” but it is the appropriate adjective to describe Rinne. It will be strange to enter the Predators’ dressing room next season and not see Rinne in his stall near the entrance. I will miss our near-daily conversations about hockey and life.
“Who’s not going to miss Pekka?” Predators general manager David Poile said.
Despite his immense popularity, Rinne has never been comfortable being the center of attention. As he fielded questions about his legacy, he fidgeted in his chair and smiled bashfully.
“There’s two sides,” Rinne said. “One is being a hockey player. I hope that people see me as a hard-working guy, team guy. That’s my wish. Off the ice, just an everyday man. Just a man of the people. I feel like that’s who I am.”
That is exactly who he is.
(Top photo: John Russell / NHLI via Getty Images)