Alfredsson’s finest moment happened off the ice
His efforts helped start a mental-health discussion
Of all the thrilling, remarkable and spectacular moments that Daniel Alfredsson has created for the people of Ottawa, there is one that stands out above all the others.
It’s not the overtime winner against Buffalo in the 2007 NHL playoffs that sent the Senators to their first Stanley Cup final. It’s not when he checked Darcy Tucker into the boards, skated to the net and scored the game-winning goal in a playoff game against the Toronto Maple Leafs in 2002.
Those and many other highlights from a splendid career will be replayed in the days ahead as Alfredsson prepares to announce his retirement from hockey. For me, however, the most powerful moment of his career came not on the ice but in a boardroom, when he stepped forward in June 2008 to lead the public awareness campaign of the Royal Ottawa Foundation for Mental Health.
The effect of Alfredsson’s action was immediate. I had been volunteering for the Royal for about five years at the time. Before Alfredsson, the foundation toiled valiantly in obscurity, without significant philanthropic interest, corporate sponsorship or awareness of the cause and an annual budget that was minuscule compared to those of other hospitals.
Suddenly, thanks to Alfredsson, people started talking about a taboo subject. After interviewing Alfredsson that day on my radio program, I received calls from several people with mental-health challenges who felt empowered to speak about their struggles for the first time. One of them was an Ottawa firefighter suf-
Suddenly, thanks to Alfredsson, people started talking about a taboo subject.
fering from post-traumatic stress disorder. He had kept his struggles largely a secret but soon became a public advocate for the cause.
The impact was also transformative and immeasurable. Many of the Royal’s recent successes and significant milestones can be traced back to the Alfredsson Effect. Among other things, his involvement allowed the foundation to create a very successful annual fundraising breakfast, which he co-chaired and — if the NHL schedule allowed — attended.
In the first six years since, I’ve talked to dozens of people who have felt comfortable speaking about their battles with depression and other forms of mental illness because they felt validated and supported by Alfredsson’s actions. For the first time, they disclosed their experiences to their employers, co-workers, friends and families. And some of the people hearing their stories likely reacted with more of an open mind because of Alfredsson.
Despite the local mythology about him, Alfredsson has never demonstrated a big public persona. He was never the kind of captain who confronted his teammates or gave inspiring pre-game speeches in the locker-room. He led by example on the ice; likewise, in the community, he chose to make a difference in an area where few people of his stature had dared to tread before.
Today, Ottawa is a leading community in battling the stigma of mental illness and the Royal is a pioneer in research into the causes of depression and other debilitating diseases. A big reason for that is that when it wasn’t cool to talk about depression and other maladies, when many were attaching their names to other worthwhile causes like cancer research, the man with the most currency and celebrity in the city invested his considerable public capital into this one.
We’re fortunate to have witnessed the great moments of Alfredsson’s playing career. He’s earned his unique place in the city as the first legend of the modern Senators.
But I’ll always be most grateful to him for changing the course of mental health awareness. There are plays that produce thrills and lasting memories. And then there are the moments that are truly game-changing: those that build a stronger, healthier community, transform lives and create hope in place of despair.