Sean Avery shares his thoughts on the Transition Season

I always liked Sean Avery as a player.  Sure, he was controversial.  But he was a straight shooter.

Sean came into the league with the Red Wings.  He also played with Los Angeles and Dallas.  But spent most of time in two tours with the New York Rangers.

Beyond his off-ice antics and comments, he is most well know for The Avery Rule.  (Basically, after face-guarding Brodeur like an NFL safety blanketing a receiver, the league came out with guidance that you couldn’t obstruct the goalie while facing him and not participating in the play in progress.  It is now a minor penalty.)

Avery retired in 2012.

And he has now written a great article about the Transition Season.

Here is a snippet.  You can read the rest here.

In my 11 years in the NHL, I cannot recall a single season when two teammates didn’t fight each other at practice. I mean full-on taking swings. Then, when it was over, without fail, they would hug and skate away. The next day, they’d be laughing together. It was the best thing that could’ve happened. In pro hockey, you can settle small disagreements and bad energy with your fists. In the real world, everything is much more complicated. Imagine two State Farm insurance salesmen passing one another in the hallway, dropping their laptops and just going at it right there, all because one guy wasn’t giving it his all in the morning meeting.

This isn’t a joke. It’s the reason why athletes have a hard time with their second act.

At the end of every season, professional athletes have two realities: we’re either celebrating a championship, or we’re saying, “wait until next season.” But there eventually comes a third reality called “Transition Season.” You hang up your skates, and call it a day. There won’t be another season. There’s just the rest of your life. Even if you retire with $20 million in your bank account (and hardly anyone but a major-superstar-endorsement-deal-king does that), you still have to reckon with the fact that when next season starts, you’ll be watching from the stands. Or on TV. Or in the worst case scenario, closing your eyes and covering your ears, and pretending that it’s not happening without you.

But it is, and it will. So the question is: “How do you make the transition from the game that defined your life to a life that will keep you moving forward, and not wallowing in nostalgia for who you used to be?”

I decided to retire in 2012 because the game was no longer fun for me. Sure, I loved being on the ice, making a great play, putting the puck in the net — and winning. I did not love the abuse I got from my coach. I did not love sitting around in the locker room talking about cars and wives and girlfriends — or about hiding your girlfriend from your wife. And difficult though this may be for fans to understand, some nights, I did not love all the thumping music and swirling lights announcing “The New York Rangers!” as we skated out to play Game X in our 82-game season. Some nights, you just can’t find that extra gear no matter how loud the arena is.

Image courtesy of Bridget Samuels.