Donning the mustard yellow: What it’s like to be a Day 2 NHL Draft pick

The intrigue of the NHL Draft is real. Teams can improve instantly, and it’s the time of year when scouts are really able to make their mark on an organization. Fans are usually excited and management is optimistic about the coming season. No one expects their favorite team to get worse at the draft – even though it can happen.

For hopeful draftees, the entire experience can vary widely. Being drafted is an honor. So few players actually get the opportunity to hear their name announced from the stage. And I think every young athlete that is selected realizes that putting on an NHL team’s jersey at the Draft represents the first step towards a career in professional hockey.

But that’s all it is. A chance to further oneself in hockey. Because no matter what round a player is selected, there is no guarantee of a contract offer down the road. Sure, first-rounders have some clout. They almost always get signed. But not all. Ultimately it’s up to the player to continue to improve and create value within the organization that selected him.

There’s really no hiding it: the earlier you are drafted, the better chance you have of making it to the NHL. Organizations have entire staffs devoted to scouting amateur players, and they want them to succeed.

I say this often: teams will make excuses for early Draft picks. Money has been invested in the player, and there’s always a belief that potential never goes away. But for later Draft picks, it’s a much tougher road. NHL teams don’t give them nearly as much leash.

I was a late draft pick in the 2002 NHL Draft, going in the sixth round, No. 172 overall, to the Nashville Predators. And despite having a solid – but not great – college career at St. Lawrence University, I wasn’t offered a contract. The Predators decided to sign some guy named Pekka Rinne instead. You might have heard of him.

But as for the draft experience itself, it was so cool. My agent at the time, Anton Thun, was confident that I’d be selected somewhere between the fourth and sixth round. So with that assurance, I flew to Toronto to be in attendance at the then-Air Canada Center.

I knew that I wasn’t going to be drafted in an early round. I didn’t attend the NHL Draft Combine, and the Predators were the only team I had spoken with. The chance of a surprise selection in the first couple rounds was non-existent.

But what if I traveled all the way to Canada and didn’t get drafted? Oddly enough, the thought never really entered my mind. Maybe I was naive. But I felt safe. And it turned out that being there in person was the right decision.

Back then, in 2002, the first three rounds were done on Day 1. And I think that made it really easy – even enjoyable – for me. It would have been a shock for me to get drafted on the first day. So I was able to sit back and enjoy the event. I saw management working the phone, draftees walking up to the stage and donning a jersey from the team that just selected them.

It gave me a chance to envision what it would be like. How I wanted to carry myself. Who I would call from the suite. It was 2002 after all. I didn’t own a cell phone. And even if I did, there was no chance my plan would have included international roaming.

I remember showing up for the second day and being a little anxious. In the next few hours, I was supposed to be an NHL Draft pick. Coming from St. Louis, we’d only had four previous draftees from our city. And in 2002, there was a chance of up to five of us being chosen by an NHL team.

It was almost surreal. Just three years prior I didn’t even know how to get to junior hockey, much less NCAA Div. I competition. Yet there I was, at 19 years old, sitting in the Air Canada Center waiting for my name to be announced.

Why 19? Because back then, NCAA athletes had to wait a year to be draft eligible. I don’t know why. It’s just how it was. But that rule was probably good for me – it’s doubtful that any team would have selected me out of the NAHL as an 18-year old.

But after freshman year at St. Lawrence University, I was ready. And I was on Central Scouting’s radar. Cornell University’s David Leneveu was the No. 1 ranked NCAA goaltender. I was No. 2. Leneveu went in the second round to the Phoenix Coyotes.

I was told before the Draft that a run on goaltenders typically happens sometime in the fifth or sixth round and that I would likely be a part of it. Sure enough, nine goalies were selected in the fifth round. And just ahead of me, at No.1 171, Bobby Goepfert was selected by the Pittsburgh Penguins.

Nashville was up next. And I had a sneaking suspicion that they might select me. Everything was lining up. And then it happened.

I was officially an NHL Draft pick of the Predators. I remember standing up, hugging my parents, and feeling slightly overwhelmed. And I wasn’t entirely sure where to go. So I walked down to ice level, where the NHL had someone waiting to be my chaperone.

We headed over to the Predators table, where I received my draft jersey. It was mustard yellow and didn’t have a nameplate on it. Truthfully, it might have been the ugliest jersey in hockey history. But it was my draft jersey. And I was so proud to wear it.

I was ushered from station to station, meeting everyone in the Predators organization. My parents joined for pictures in my draft jersey. And I did get to make a few phone calls to the important people in my life at the time.

The furthest I got with the Predators was attending four development camps in Nashville. It was an exciting time for the expansion franchise. There was a boatload of young talent. I was there with Scottie Upshall. Vern Fiddler. Scott Hartnell. Jordan Tootoo. Dan Hamhuis. Ryan Suter. Alexander Radulov. Shea Weber. Brandon Segal. Rinne. To name but just a few.

Even though I never had the chance to sign with Nashville, I met some amazing people. The experiences at those development camps left a lasting impression on what it takes to make it in pro hockey.

I’ve been able to reconnect with quite a few members of the Predators organization from that era in the past few years, either through my work in media or simply through being in a rink at the right place, at the right time.

Probably the coolest involved Pete Rogers, the longtime equipment manager of the Preds. For some reason, it had always bothered me that my draft jersey didn’t have a nameplate on it. It looked naked without one. Two phone calls later, my jersey was on its way to Nashville.

Pete was able to scrounge up enough leftover material and fashion a nameplate for my mustard draft jersey – over a decade later. And several years after that particular sweater had been (mercifully) retired by Nashville.

I was so thankful to Pete. My Draft jersey finally felt complete.

I know it’s a mixed bag for every player at the draft hoping to be selected. Some will be happy while others will be disappointed. We all have a different story from our own experience. But I think years later, most everyone that’s ever been an NHL Draft pick realizes this: it’s special. And it’s something no one can ever take from you.

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Donning the mustard yellow: What it’s like to be a Day 2 NHL Draft pick

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