There was no denying the speed, the hands, the abrupt changes of direction. Johnny Gaudreau was impossible to miss inside a hockey arena, listed at 5-foot-9 yet one of the most terrifying forces in the NHL.
Loose in open ice, anything could happen. Even worse for opponents was how Gaudreau redefined what open was, what possible was — he was at his very best finding creases no one else saw, taking the puck into places no one else imagined — before so often depositing shots in the back of the net.
Johnny Hockey they called this blur from South Jersey, who played with a bliss built on possibility.
ESPN’s John Buccigross aptly compared him to Allen Iverson, someone whose seeming disadvantage — size — got turned into an advantage — impossible, glorious elusiveness.
Johnny Gaudreau, 31, and his younger brother Matthew, 29 and a ECHL player, were killed Thursday Night when a drunk driver hit them as they rode bikes in Oldmans Township, New Jersey. They were in town for their sister Katie’s wedding. They were to be groomsmen.
Johnny Gaudreau leaves behind his wife, Meredith, and his two young children, daughter Noa and son Johnny.
The tragedy — both in its senselessness and painfulness — is almost too much to recount.
Their father, Guy, was a former player and longtime coach who got his boys into the sport at the earliest of ages, focusing on the fundamentals of balance and speed and skating before anything else. Johnny was quickly a wonder — he often dazzled in the skill competitions during his seven NHL All-Star appearances.
Gaudreau netted 243 regular season goals and recorded 500 assists across 11 NHL seasons with the Calgary Flames and the Columbus Blue Jackets. He previously won a national championship and the Hobey Baker Award at Boston College.
The stats don’t even describe his impact on the league, or the thrills he gave fans when he’d pull some spin move or dart in a way no else in the building expected. He was whip smart on the ice. He was an edge-of-your-seat, hold-your-breath kind of talent.
“Johnny played the game with great joy,” the Blue Jackets said in a statement. “[It] was felt by everybody who saw him on the ice.”
That Gaudreau ever became a Blue Jacket was a microcosm of his career — an unexpected, last second zag that left the NHL stunned and went against the grain of how nearly every free-agent decision in professional sports was ever made.
It was seemingly also a window into his life — it was a decision based on what he and Meredith thought would be best for their future children more than just money or fame or personal interests.
In the summer of 2022, Gaudreau, coming off a 40-goal season in Calgary, hit the open market and was the most coveted potential signee in the NHL.
In the half century history of professional free agents, these moves are almost always based on A) money, B) a chance to play for a contender, C) a return to their childhood home/family, D) market size or weather.
Calgary offered him the most money to stay. Gaudreau’s home state New Jersey Devils, and nearby New York Islanders, offered a Brinks Truck as well, hoping the chance to come “home” would push their offers over the edge. Stanley Cup contenders, major market clubs or Sun Belt teams were all possibilities had he expressed the interest.
He was the No. 1 guy.
In Jersey, it felt like fait accompli, the return of the Prodigious Son. A brewery in Jersey City kicked in something extra, by offering him free drinks for life if he signed with the Devils.
Out in Ohio, Blue Jackets general manager Jarmo Kekäläinen made an offer as well. It was more of a formality, though.
The deal was $15 million less than Calgary, and Columbus wasn’t Gaudreau’s hometown, a big market or plush with beaches and cruise ship ports. Besides, the Blue Jackets’ history is pedestrian. They’ve won just a single playoff series ever and are overshadowed locally by Ohio State athletics.
This is a place top free agents tend to leave.
“We contact the people on the top of our list but [tend to] hear back that, ‘Yeah, you’re one of the teams …,” Kekäläinen said of how free agency tends to (not) work out.
Then just like that, Gaudreau said he was signing with Columbus. The move didn’t just stun the NHL as a whole. It even stunned Columbus.
Kekäläinen’s response: “Like, Are you serious about this?”
He was. Although Gaudreau knew he needed to explain himself.
“The first question is obvious,” Gaudreau was asked at his introductory news conference. “Why?”
To Johnny Hockey, to the product of a tight-knit family, to a man of priorities, to someone who on the ice always was looking for the unlikely path into a successful future and willing to boldly dart into it, the reason was simple.
Meredith was pregnant with their first child. The money was always going to be big and Gaudreau wasn’t thinking about what was best for him, but what was best for their soon to be growing family.
He’d been to Columbus on road trips and had walked the bustling downtown and even driven through the neighborhoods of a quickly booming and exceedingly pleasant Midwestern city.
This was where a kid should grow up, he thought. This is where his kids should grow up. This was home, even if it wasn’t his old home.
“Talking to my family, talking to Meredith, it was the right move for us,” Gaudreau said. “That is really all I can tell you guys.”
Plenty of hockey people didn’t understand, but Johnny Gaudreau didn’t need to say anymore; he’d just said it all, about who he is and what, now, sadly, he leaves behind.
Source Agencies
