Ray Must Stay!

It’s been a kiddie roller coaster kind of week for me: going along kind of smoothly at first, then a sudden twist here, a brief high point there, and a then sickening drop which I’m too tall for this ride not to have suspected was coming. I thought I would survive my weekly case of the Mondays, when in the early evening I made the mistake of logging into Facebook and learned that my favorite hockey player, Ray Whitney, is unlikely to return to the Carolina Hurricanes next year.

I was instantly and totally dejected. Completely downtrodden, bummed, angry with the Universe, and deeply disappointed in humanity. As if a beloved pet had been killed by a hit-and-run driver. Only the pet’s not quite pushing up daisies, and I know who the driver is, so it’s more like time has stopped and I’m looking at the horrible accident before impact, hoping against the odds that a last-minute miracle will unfold before my eyes if I just hold my breath, utter the perfect prayer, and offer up just the right sacrifice to mollify the Hockey Gods.

Well, as I sat stunned on the sofa with the accursed computer still in my lap, my husband returned home from work and came in to the living room to greet me with a kiss.

“Ray Whitney’s leaving,” I said with a pale face.

“Ray’s leaving?” he repeated as he put down his gear. Then, acknowledging my panic and horror, he, like any good caring husband, tried sweetly but failed spectacularly to comfort and reassure his honey.

“It’s ok,” he said. “I’m sure the GM will find a replacement.”

“A REPLACEMENT?!!!!” I shrieked. “A REPLACEMENT? Who is short? With an easily rhymable name?! Who makes faces behind Tripp Tracy?!!!”

“Mm-maybe he’s just testing the waters as a free agent,” my husband tried again.

“Now you’re just feeding my denial stage,” I frowned.

“Wow, honey,” he said as he leaned in for a kiss, “You’re a real hockey fan! I’m proud of you.”

“Shut up! It’s not funny! I mean, it is, but it’s not,” I said with misty eyes.

I think I became a hockey fan on April 2, 2000 as 18,000 fans screamed “Primeau sucks!” at Raleigh’s Entertainment and Sports Arena. That’s another story, but that was 10 years ago. So this isn’t the first favorite player whose loss I’ve had to mourn. But I was a rookie fan then, and I didn’t understand that when Irbe was sent to the minors he’d never return.

You see, I have a thing for short players and goalies. Since Irbe was both, I was pretty helpless. I guess I like goalies because that’s probably the position I’d play if I played hockey. Goalies are weird and insane. They experience periods of relative boredom and solitude that are suddenly interrupted by bursts of intense activity in which gangs of thugs hurl projectiles at their heads. But the good ones react with unwaivering stoicism and mystical concentration (unless they just choose to knock you on your ass that day because you underestimated them).

Ray Whitney isn’t a goalie, but he’s short – at least by athlete standards. He’s officially listed as 5’10”. I like short guys in general. They’re just easier to kiss without straining your neck. But short athletes in particular – there’s just going to be something different about them. They don’t have the genes and the towering physical presence that facilitates stardom in a given sport. They have to cultivate other qualities, master unique skills and wield them as weapons: speed, agility, grit, intelligence, magic.

After 10 years, I don’t consider myself a hockey expert, but I have eyes, and Ray Whitney appears to have all those qualities and more. Did you see his highlight-reel, masterful undressing of the wookalar Zdeno Chara? (Speed, agility, grit.) You might look over Ray, but you shouldn’t overlook him. Not only does he have these qualities, but he exhibits them consistently. He scored over 20 goals in each of the last four seasons, making him one of the team’s top scorers each time. So, if he is older than the average player, it surely hasn’t made him any less productive. And age can only add to his smarts - a desirable quality in a player, but an invaluable quality in a leader.

I haven’t been in the Canes’ locker room (at least not in the last month. I mean, when players were in there. Okay, when more than two players were in there) so I guess I don’t really know what Ray’s like in the locker room. I can, however, plainly see in glorious digital HD that the man has a sense of humor. Remember the faces he’d make in the background behind Tripp Tracy, the Canes’ TV color announcer, as he tried to conduct relatively serious interviews with other players during the pregame skates? No matter how close the camera zoomed in, Ray managed to wiggle his mug into the shot, proving that irritating tenacity is a useful quality both on and off the ice.

I can only imagine that he’s able to bring that kind of levity into the locker room when it’s appropriate. But at the same time, you know he’s not a screw-up; he’s too good a player. Someone who does his job consistently and produces that many points while reminding others that hockey is a sport and, oh yeah, is kinda supposed to be fun – that’s pretty magical. Dare I say Wizard-like?

I hope that team management and Ray himself are keeping this in mind. I get that sports is a business and that winning is their business. Maybe it’s none of MY business – I’m just a fan – but I think it kind of is. You could argue about whether players and managers/owners love the game or the money more, but as a fan, I can tell you I’m definitely not in it for the money; I’m in it for the fun. Hockey doesn’t pay my paycheck, so I have the liberty to tell both JR and Ray to quit being stupid by trying to play it smart.

To Ray, I’d say, fine, go see what you’re worth. There’s probably some other team that will pay more for you. In some bitter climate where the press has nothing better to do than sort through your recycle bin, or in some bustling smoggy metropolis whose citizens love six other sports teams more than yours. Then you can decide to stay here in Raleigh anyway and be happy knowing you have integrity and priorities instead of another car.

To the team management, I’d say Ray Whitney is exactly the kind of player every team needs. No one is irreplaceable, but why would you give up this kind of consistency and leadership, which are all the more vital to maintain if and when Rod Brind’Amour leaves and the rest of the roster is soon populated with inexpensive young guys whose talents are a gamble? Ray is a well-loved player. What good does it do to continually piss off the fans? Just because the Carolina Hurricanes are the soap opera of the NHL, where even if a player seems dead, he can always come back to life again later in a future trade, this is no excuse to habitually play with our feelings. If you’re not going to spend lots of money on flashy stars to attract casual fans (thank you), you still might want to consider the value of less hyped players that earn the love and loyalty of regular, dependable fans who come to more than one game a year. Besides that, Ray Whitney won the Cup in Carolina, he wears the A, and he should retire here.

But what do I know? I’m a chick.

Well, for one thing, I know Ray is also the star of the hockey romance novel in my head. I’m pretty sure the A on his chest stands for Adorable, and that by saying so, I run the risk of ruining an otherwise perfectly logical argument for keeping Ray Whitney in Raleigh. But I’m willing to take that risk because those who brought hockey to Raleigh were taking a risk. They have been pretty successful in spreading the gospel of hockey to a Southern market with potential for growth. Guess what other demographic has potential for growth in hockey fandom? Chicks!

Chicks dig hockey players. So if you’re going to get rid of Ray Whitney, you’d better concentrate on getting some more handsome, funny, single boys. Winning, if you can do it on a shoestring, will surely attract more fans. But so will winning smiles!

Personally, I’d rather see more of Ray’s, especially when they’re hamming it up for the camera behind Tripp Tracy.