Read here for Part I.

Under normal circumstances writing this column is one of the highlights of the hockey season for me. After three months of living without the NHL and the New York Rangers, my primary source of entertainment away from the mediocrity of my own life, I always feel this cathartic rush of excitement every September when training camps open. Fans of any sport can understand this sensation: the return of daily newspaper columns on your favorite team, planning out evenings around preseason games, preparing for fantasy drafts, reading preview guides, predicting which players will have breakout years and which will lose their edge, and finding a dozen or so reasons why, with a little hope and a lot of luck, their team could have a chance at championship glory. And I like to think that all my columns, written for fans by a fan, touch on these same things, no matter who you are, where you are, or how you feel.

But, as stated already, I'm having a tough time getting into this coming season. I feel very alienated from the sport itself, thanks in part to the corporate officers that laugh off my complaints about the game, the media that cheapens the experience, the ownership that treats my loyalty as commodity, and certain star players that mistakenly feel their value as individuals far outweighs the value of the team. All these things will virtually assure that professional hockey comes to a screeching halt in the summer of 2004, with an uncertain future looming beyond. These things have been on my mind for months, and when it came time to push past them and focus on writing this column, on generating a slow buzz among my fellow fans, the words came only sporadically, if at all. I'm not all that excited about this coming season. Let me clarify with use of font: I am excited, but just not that excited. And then Dan Snyder died on Sunday night and made writing this column a moot point.

I didn't know Dan Snyder. I know almost nothing about his career, couldn't pull his face out of a line-up, couldn't properly name his skills or weaknesses, can't tell you a distinctive play I remember him making or a big game he had in which he was a deciding factor. I'm not a Dan Snyder fan. All I know about him is that he was a 25-year-old professional hockey player that succumbed to injuries suffered in a car accident about a week ago.

I'd like to think that Dan Snyder was living his dream, but I honestly don't know if that's true. Perhaps he was frustrated by his role with the team, perhaps frustrated with the limits of his talent. Maybe injuries and years spent in the minor leagues had disillusioned him, or maybe he didn't even like hockey altogether and was just merely good enough at it to make it a career while his true passions lingered in the back of his head, now left tragically unfulfilled. I'm hoping that none of these things are true. I'd like to think that Dan Snyder was living his dream and never took a single second of his life for granted, proud of all his accomplishments, on the ice and off, even the ones that may seem insignificant to you and I.

The story of Dan Snyder's death becomes even more tragic in that driving the car, as all hockey fans know at this point, was Dany Heatley, perhaps the brightest young star the NHL has to offer. Heatley, 22-years-old, is the kind of kid that fans feel an instinctive need to root for: talented but unassuming, tough and hard working, a distinctive smile and a seeming joy for the game. He looks like a hockey player. He was poised to lead a budding franchise to future glory, perhaps to lead the entire post-lockout league to greener pastures. Now he faces a potential 15-year prison sentence for killing his teammate, for ending the life of his good friend.

People concern themselves with the issue of Heatley's recovery, the effect it may have on the future of this star player, the effect it will have on the immediate and long-term success of the Atlanta Thrashers. This isn't a concern to me. Money will be spent to ensure Heatley's mental stability; Heatley's own character that made him a young star in the league will take care of the rest. Agents and PR people will script his words to once again make him the type of person that fans need to root for. Too much is at stake here to let things fall as they may. Heatley's situation is metaphoric of the league itself, its image tarnished and its future uncertain. Both of these situations are frustratingly out of the hands of the casual fan; all we can do is merely react as we see fit, cheer or boo, watch or don't watch. Thinking beyond this is pure speculation.

What concerns me is that one 22-year-old made a tragic mistake that cost the life of his 25-year-old friend, and now I'm expected to write a column about how enthusiastic we fans are supposed to feel about the coming NHL season. I don't feel like it. Not today. I'd love to make jokes about Jacques Martin's ears, or the fact that Boston hired a guy named "Sully" to be their coach, or that Mike Keenan can't do enough to get himself fired in Florida. But I don't feel like it. Today I feel like writing a column about Dan Snyder, a player I don't even ever remember watching, and telling anyone that cares to hear that life is too short to make light and judgmental comments about something that should otherwise break your heart.

This column isn't meant to depress. In many ways I'm hoping it has the opposite effect. I'm hoping it inspires. I'm hoping that it reminds all the participants involved in the sport of hockey, be they owners, officials, players or fans, that what they are watching is just a game, meant to be enjoyed on many levels, but not enough to overshadow life itself. I'm hoping that it doesn't cast a pallor over the season but instead renews hope that the various disagreements clouding the game's future can be put aside before irrevocable damage is done. Tragedy unfortunately is not unique to sport--Bobby Phills, Korey Stringer, Darryl Kile, to name a recent few--and now the name of Dan Snyder is added to that list. The 2003-2004 NHL season starts in 24 hours, and undoubtedly before the first puck is dropped the league will remind you to save a moment of your thoughts for this young life ended too early. I'm asking that the league itself do the same as well.

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