AS I SEE IT COLUMN: A Jets season that began with so much promise, ends with so much heartache

“Ah, cruel fate, how swiftly joy and sorrow alternate!”― Raimbaut de Vaqueyras

When the Jets were heading into game seven against the St. Louis Blues, some people – myself included – thought that game would be a defining moment for the Jets franchise.

We were wrong.

The gut-wrenching, impossibly sad game six against the Dallas Stars, was the game that will define the Jets for many, many ears.

As everyone knows by now, Mark Scheifele found out only hours before the game that his father had just passed away. This forced him to make an impossible decision: Go be with his family and miss the game or play the game and not be with his grieving family. There was no right or wrong decision, just an impossibly difficult one.

Scheifele summoned the courage to play in game six, to be with his hockey family.

He scored the Jets only goal but was in the penalty box in overtime when the Stars scored a power play goal to end the series. Immediately after he scored, the announcers wondered what Mark’s reaction would be. To his credit, he had a huge smile on his face.

The idea that announcers were concerned how Mark would react revealed just how emotional that moment, that goal and indeed the entire game, would be for Scheifele.

To their eternal credit, his teammates put in a gutsy performance for their star centre. A save here or a break there and they could have won the game.

The scene of Mark slumped over in the penalty box, was difficult to watch. It’s safe to say that many Canadians watching the game were brought to tears. There were many other scenes that Jets fans will remember for a very long time. Captain Adam Lowry going into the penalty box to console Scheifele; the Jets players lining up to show their love and support for their hockey brother; and the longest post-game handshakes you will ever see, as every player and coach on the Stars wanted share their sympathies.

If you’ve played hockey and if you were or are lucky enough to have had a dad who coached you, supported you, taught you, cheered for you, drove you to games and practices, bought your equipment and watched hundreds of your games, you know exactly what that special bond of a hockey dad and a hockey son is. You’ve laughed together, cried together, celebrated wins, struggled through disappointing losses, spent endless hours in the car, and all along your dad was by your side.

And then, suddenly, he’s gone. You no longer have a dad.

At press time it was unclear how Mark’s father passed. If he was ill, Mark would have had to make the agonizing choice between leaving Dallas to be at his dad’s bedside, or stay and try to force a game seven. If he died suddenly and unexpectedly, the shock would have been unimaginable. Either way, the overwhelming grief and anguish could have consumed Mark and his teammates. Upon hearing the shocking news just hours before puck drop, nobody would have criticized anyone had the Jets got blown away.

But they rallied for their hockey brother. They played one of their best games of the playoffs. It was as gutsy and brave an effort you will ever witness. They fought to the bitter end.

And bitter it was.

Fate can be cruel and fate was brutal to Scheifele. To be sitting helplessly in the penalty box, watching Dallas score and the Jets season come to a highly emotional end when he had played so well in honouring his father, must have been excruciating.

To his teammates who summoned the resilience and emotional strength to play so well under such devastating circumstances, we can only tip our hat in amazement.

And to Mark, who showed such extraordinary courage in the face of such unspeakable grief, you have our heartfelt sympathy.

There will be plenty of time to analyze what the Jets need to do to be successful in the playoffs, but now is not that time.

Now is the time to honour and respect the indescribable grief and the inspiring bravery Mark showed in not just playing in game six, but for being the best Jet on the ice under such heartbreaking circumstances.