TORONTO – Jason Spezza has referred to the National Hockey League — paradoxically, the cushiest and most ruthless circuit in his favourite sport — as “an adapt-or-die league.”
So, the trick, Spezza tells all those young up-and-comers who pick from his wisdom and only dream of lasting 1,248 games, is being honest.
Even when it hurts.
Number 19 has a tip for those who wish to last 19 years in the NHL: Constantly assess how you’re playing. Ask yourself what you can do to improve. What you’re doing right. Where you can push further. How can you fit in better to help the greater good? Then wake up the next day, lace ’em up, and reassess all over again.
Be critical before the coach — who has 22 other imperfect players to fret about — gets around to being critical of you. Because by the time he pulls you aside, you’ve probably already slipped for a week. And it may be too late.
Announcing his retirement and immediate shift to the Toronto Maple Leafs’ front office Sunday, Spezza leaves the roar of the crowd with the 94th-most points scored all-time (995).
The 38-year-old has prided himself on a candid ability to evaluate his own game, when he’s contributing, when he’s not, and being able to covert negative momentum on the ice into positive.
Now, fittingly, Spezza has done the same thing in swiftly and respectfully transitioning from meaningful depth forward to a valued member of the Leafs’ executive branch, where he’ll serve as special assistant to general manager Kyle Dubas until he zeroes in on an off-ice area to pour his expertise. (Player assessment and development is a smart bet.)
What allowed Spezza to excel equally as a young playmaking phenom for the Cup-contending Ottawa Senators and a sage veteran fourth-line checker in his hometown is the same look-in-the-mirror approach that prompted this painful decision, just five points shy of 1,000 and one Cup shy of his fiercest wish.
“I still don’t know that I’ve come to grips with it,” Spezza says Sunday.
“I’m a pretty realistic guy. I think. You know, as time went on, I knew that I wasn’t going to do this forever. I also want to leave the team in a good spot. I know you don’t want to overstay your welcome as a player, either. I think there’s a lot of respect that people have for me, and you don’t want to use that and take advantage of the situation.”
Healthy scratched frequently down the stretch and into the Leafs’ frustrating seven-game loss to the wagon Tampa Bay Lightning, Spezza admitted the handshake line felt different this month.
Because he believed harder, the sting of defeat burned in a way it hadn’t since those door-knocking Sens came three wins short of lifting Lord Stanley Mug in 2007.
In its jarring wake, Spezza admitted he was “a little lost.” He turned inward for questions first.
“Did I do enough? Did I help push the right buttons? Did I do everything I could do to help the team get over it?” wondered Spezza, ever his harshest critic. “It’s just hard. It’s just these chances, they don’t come very often.
“I don’t know if I’m even fully OK with it. But I’m really excited about being able to stay with the organization. It’s gonna make me feel like I’m still part of the team, which I am, and it’ll help my retirement process.”
Reflection, scrutiny, and heartfelt conversations with teammates past and present followed over the ensuing days, as the hockey carried on without him.
Mom and Dad, wife Jennifer and their four daughters, dear friends, teammates past and present, coach Sheldon Keefe, Dubas, club president Brendan Shanahan — Spezza talked over the decision with them all.
One former NHLer in Spezza’s inner circle gave some insight that stuck.
“[He] told me that I’ve had the best job in hockey for the last 20 years and being a player is something you never going to really be able to replicate. But there are other roles out there. And there are other ways to feel that excitement for the game,” Spezza says.
“But there’s no doubt that being a player is special. It’s the greatest job you can possibly have. I don’t think people will ever understand the daily grind. Just waking up on a game day and not feeling your best after having a nap and getting your body prepped by 7 p.m. to play. And you have a great night. You win a game, and you leave there on a high. That’s the kind of stuff you’re never gonna get back.”
What Spezza cannot get back he’ll pay forward, the way he always has.
Like the time he used his hands not to pump-fake a vintage slap-shot but to knuckle up and launch at Dean Kukan’s face when he felt the Leafs needed to literally fight back against the Columbus Blue Jackets in the 2020 playoff bubble.
Or when, during the pandemic, he passed the collection plate around and gathered financial contributions from his fellow multimillionaire NHLers to help offset the salary-slashed AHL Marlies.
Or when his desperate intermission speech helped rally Toronto’s most recent victory, an inspired comeback against the Lighting in Game 5.
Or when contract negotiations would roll around and Spezza happily signed on for minimum wage, an act, Dubas says, helped encourage Mark Giordano to accept his discount $800,000 salary last week.
Dubas speaks of summer workout sessions at Ford Performance Centre, where rink rat Spezza would share his knowledge and childlike laugh with virtually everyone in the organization.
“He treats nobody differently and was willing to do everything he could to help them,” Dubas said. “If you’re a player coming in on an ECHL deal or an American League–ECHL two-way contract, and Jason Spezza — who’s obviously someone they’ve all grown up watching and think very positively of — is just willing to donate and give his time when no one would expect it. That was pretty remarkable.”
So, too, were Spezza’s quiet actions during the Leafs’ pre-game meal in Pittsburgh on Feb. 18, 2020.
The team had just laid a 5-2 stinker in Buffalo. Injuries were mounting, the group was playing poorly, and heads were sunk heading into the sluggish half of a back-to-back.
Dubas recalls Spezza hopping up from his plate and making his way around the room, speaking individual encouragement to every Leaf who needed a boost. The act wasn’t for show; Dubas caught wind that Spezza’s mini pep talks continued after the GM had left the room.
On the day he leaves the dressing room for the front office, Spezza considers the impression he’s made on his peers.
“I would hope they recognize that I love the game. I think I just tried to be myself every day. I don’t think I ever put on an act. I don’t think I ever tried to be someone that I wasn’t. I think you if you can be vulnerable to your teammates and show them who you truly are, I think that creates a stronger bond and stronger friendships. And my best friendships are through hockey — and that’s no mistake,” Spezza says.
A shameless hockey nerd, Spezza feels proud today, of all that he gave. Rightly so.
Yet, if he’s being honest, that pride is spiked with the bitterness of disappointment. A dream unrealized.
“I don’t think I can ever put into words how much it means to me to try to win the Stanley Cup. There’s definitely a huge void in my heart and my career,” Spezza says.
“I’ve had many sleepless nights over the course of my career, wondering what I need to do differently and how I need to change to win a Stanley Cup. And to not be able to win a Stanley Cup as a player is very difficult. It’s my life’s work, hockey. And to not be able to be a champion in it is hard.
“But I think that will help me drive towards wanting to stay in the game too. I think it’ll never feel maybe the same as being a player. But I’m going to try to win a Stanley Cup as an executive and as part of the organization now. And that will keep me driven.”
No, Jason Spezza’s hockey career hasn’t died.
It has simply adapted.
