Some sad news from the "back home" front. Dr. James Ross, the father of two brothers I played hockey with in high school, passed away Monday in hospice care in Cheektowaga, N.Y., at the age of 66.
As a 15-/16-year-old, I generally didn't know the parents of my teammates too well, but what I did know was that Dr. Ross was a very good man and probably an even better father, if his sons were any indication.
John Ross was one of our best defensemen, a quiet on-ice leader by example, while Jim, my first-line center and team captain, was by far the most outspoken leader both in the locker room and on the ice with respect to his determination and tenacity. Whether they ever knew it or not, Jim and John made a tremendous impact on how I approached the game of hockey, whether in terms of sportsmanship, camaraderie, or simply never taking a shift off.
As a sophomore, it was quite a challenge for me to play at the high school level with the big boys -- especially on those days when we'd face off against the top Buffalo teams or, heaven forbid, the Canadian squads in regional tournaments. I was hardly the third-best forward on the team, especially my first year, but I recall Jim fighting for me to be on his wing because he wanted to play with someone willing to go into the corners and take a pounding in front of the net. I still struggle with confidence to this day, so you might imagine how fragile my ego was when I was only 15. But any self-regard I acquired at all as a hockey player was in large part due to the confidence Jim Ross had in me.
By the time I was a junior (Jim was a senior), our line, which included Brent Cygan (also a senior), had developed the type of chemistry you can only understand by being a part of it. We were friends on the ice and off, and this was the year I really realized that sports (especially hockey, in my opinion) can be so much more than merely playing a game. It creates bonds that last a lifetime, even after everyone has gone his own way afterward. At least that's what it was like for me.
I'll never forget one Thursday night practice my junior year. The coach split the lines up for a scrimmage and I found myself opposite Jim for the first time in a while. Jim had the puck and was carrying it behind my net with his head down when I just leveled him. It was a clean hit but I immediately felt a pit in my stomach and aplogized for what I'd done. I'd just clocked the team captain (and my game-day linemate, no less). What the hell was I thinking?
Jim popped right up as he adjusted his helmet a bit, and I'm pretty sure I was just standing there waiting for him to punch me. Instead, like the true leader he was, he tapped me on the head and said, "You did exactly what you should've done. I should've had my head up." You don't remember stuff like that verbatim if it doesn't mean anything.
Why do I bring all of this up in a blog post about John and Jim's father? Well, for one, because while it's unlikely these guys will ever read this, I'm pretty sure I never told them just how much I thought of them, so I suppose there's no time like the present. And secondly, you usually don't turn out to be a top-notch person without some top-notch guidance from your folks along the way. And I know for a fact that all the Ross kids were beneficiaries of that.
Dr. Ross, while we've long been apart, I've always remembered and appreciated what you and your wife gave to me. My thoughts are with you and your family at this difficult time. RIP.