I have a confession to make. An admission that might confuse my hockey buddies. Words so contrary to anything I previously believed. Words that I may one day regret, forcing me to say, "Forgive me Dale Hunter, for I have sinned." Words 19-year-old me could never have envisioned saying: I no longer despise Jaromir Jagr. In fact, I respect him.
Twenty-plus years ago, I hated Jaromir Jagr with a white hot fury that should be reserved for people that have actually wronged me. I hated him in the silly way that crazed sports fans hate people they have never met. Playing Robin to Mario Lemieux's Batman, Jagr and the rest of the Pittsburgh Penguins regularly systematically dismantled my beloved Washington Capitals throughout the 1990's. Mario with his loathsome cocky smirk and Mario Jr (an anagram of Jaromir, trivia buffs!) with his girlish mullet flowing freely down the ice. Two pricks in a pod. Those two responsible for so much of the Capitals hapless April mythology. Those two responsible for so many broken television remotes, flung in disgust at another Penguin goal or Penguin victory.
It was easy to hate Jagr. He was sooooo good. (Seriously, YouTube his highlights. They are amazing.) Often at the expense of my team. Hatred could not diminish the appreciation for Jagr's game, though. He was the total package. Big enough to protect the puck in traffic. Powerful strides to rush end to end, blowing by defenders. And those hands, bestowed by the hockey gods, enabling him to deke defensemen and goalies as well as any player ever. Statistically, and to the eye test, Jagr is one of the greatest goal scorers to ever skate. And my buddies and I cursed him for it every step of the way. We cursed him because we could only dream of our team having a player so great.
Then, suddenly, in the Summer of 2001, Jagr landed in Washington via a blockbuster trade. Fans did not know how to react. It is difficult to turn off the kind of loathing that I reserved for Jaromir Jagr. As my friend Rob eloquently put it, "Look out, the Devil's come to church." I remember writing an email to my hockey pals about the trade, but I can't remember my advice. I'm guessing it was something about rooting for the uniform not the player. I probably talked about giving the benefit of the doubt. Yeah, probably something stupid like that. Fans didn't want Jagr in Washington. The irony, of course, is that Jagr did not want to be in Washington, either.
Whether fair or not, Jagr was often tagged with descriptors like mercurial, brooding, and selfish. I would describe his two-plus years in Washington as underwhelming, wasted, and can-we-just-get-this-over-with. Jagr's play was not awful in Washington, yet he was not nearly the player he was in Pittsburgh. Was he unhappy? Was he better suited to be Robin than THE guy that a franchise pinned its hopes on? Were his skills diminishing as he reached age 30? Don't know, don't care. I simply know that the player who posted 121 points in his final season in Pittsburgh barely matched that total in his two full seasons as a Capital. By the middle of the 03-04 season Jagr was dealt to the Rangers in the beginning of the fire sale that led to the dark times. The forgettable pre-Ovechkin era. The failed Jagr experiment, including the fact that Caps owner Ted Leonsis had to continue to pay a large portion of Jagr's salary while with the rival Rangers, rekindled the hatred.
Now, fast forward a decade. After a stint in the KHL and multiple stops with multiple teams, Jaromir Jagr is enjoying a career renaissance. The once "mercurial" superstar is seen as one of the game's elder statesman. He is a solid, if unspectacular player regarded as a leader and mentor. I don't think he was ever regarded as either while in D.C. He seems to have grown up.
Witnessing this change in Jaromir Jagr, albeit from afar, has changed my attitude towards him. He is the last active player remaining from his 1990 draft class. He will soon be 44 years of age. The level of commitment and preparation required to be NHL- fit at 44 is admirable. That he has become a veteran mentor to his young Florida Panther teammates is equally commendable. Had it not been for the NHL's bungling of the John Scott situation, Jagr likely would have stolen the show at last weekend's all-star festivities. As it was, all of his teammates wanted to skate on a line with him. He smiled more in one tv interview than he seemingly did in his entire stay in Washington. Good for him and good for the league.
As for my change of heart about Jagr, have I softened with age? I hope so; that seems the mature thing to do. Just like I try not to get angry at the nitwit who can not properly navigate a four-way stop, there is no need for me to hate Jaromir Jagr. Hate is a seed better left unsown. I can not root for Jagr; his Panthers could be a formidable playoff roadblock for the Caps. I will always be unhappy about the damage Jaromir inflicted on the Caps from outside and from within. I will, however, appreciate his immense talents and be happy to have watched one of the best to ever play.
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