Rodrigues wins hearts with ritual
There are about 30 pucks sitting on the kitchen counter, and Evan and Christie Rodrigues don’t know what to do with them.
The stockpile grows every time the Avalanche play a home game. Soon it’ll be a small hill. If the Avs make a deep playoff run, maybe it’ll blend in with the Front Range behind the Denver skyline.
Evan can’t secretly recycle the pucks. His oldest is getting too smart. Four- year- old Grayson Rodrigues organizes them by date, remembering the score of each game.
“I honestly think he’d know,” Evan said. “Definitely can’t do that.”
The kitchen counter is where the remnants reside from a new fan- favorite tradition at Ball Arena. Rodrigues has quickly earned Colorado’s admiration since signing a one- year contract last September — no easy task for a new guy who shows up right after the city has finished celebrating a Stanley Cup and mourning the free agents who signed elsewhere.
It helps to register 26 points in 42 games, as Rodrigues has. His role has ranged from top- line wing to middle- six center, helping the Avs fill any given gaps. But part of his presence in the Colorado consciousness has also been a result of his home pregame ritual, which is displayed on the jumbotron every night.
After line rushes, Rodrigues skates to the corner of the rink and attempts to shoot a puck through a camera hole in the glass. He tries up to three times. If none make it through his narrow target, he picks up the puck with his stick and passes it through the glass for Grayson, who gleefully accepts it on the other side. Then dad gathers another for his younger son, 2- year- old Noah. He sometimes high- fives them against the glass or blows them a kiss.
The resemblances are uncanny. Evan has a wide grin that matches his sons’ every night.
“I was really cold recently,” the 29- year- old forward deadpanned in January, reflecting on his shooting percentage. “I was pretty good at the beginning of the year. Like, I was really hot. Probably like 50%. And then when I came back from injury, I didn’t get one until three games ago. And now I’m 2- for- 3 in the last three.”
The tradition wasn’t always like this. In fact, the Ball Arena jumbotron has ended up cataloging the growth of the Rodrigues boys in real time for Denver to enjoy, homevideo style.
“It’s funny,” said Evan’s wife, Christie. “They’ve drawn a lot of attention, and it was totally accidental and organic.”
Evan has saucered pucks through the glass dating back to his time in Pittsburgh. It started as an independent routine and developed
into a souvenir giveaway for random fans. Grayson and Noah wouldn’t arrive at the arena with Christie until game time.
Grayson was born in Buffalo, where his dad started his NHL career from 2015- 20. Evan always told Christie he didn’t want to force hockey on their children — not even “gently guide” them. The couple hadn’t even expected to someday become a hockey family when they started dating at Boston University. They were both studying business and finance, and the extent of Christie’s hockey background was attending the Bruins’ 2011 Stanley Cup parade. Evan was never drafted; he signed with the Sabres and worked his way up. But Grayson eventually got hooked by osmosis. Evan was new in Pittsburgh when COVID- 19 arrived, halting the 2019- 20 season. “He was just about 2 and starting to socialize,” Christie remembers. Suddenly, socializing was taboo, and the only way to be around people was when the NHL started back up with no fans. Families were allowed.
“All his interaction was the workers at the rink, the other families on the team,” Christie said. “So he only consumed hockey.”
Rodrigues brought his camerahole tradition to Colorado as Grayson grew obsessed with the sport. Christie used to bring him to pregame once or twice every season, just for a photo. But one night, Evan ended his routine by passing Grayson a puck. His son beamed, and there was no turning back.
Grayson started wanting to go to warm- ups every game. His excitement was too cute to say no. The pucks started piling up. The
family has a mini- stick room in the basement, complete with boards and a rug that replicates a rink. Most days, Grayson chooses one of the warm- up pucks and brings it downstairs to play with Dad. Sometimes the boys go to the Avalanche’s practice rink to skate after the team is done.
“Pretty much all day, every day,” Evan said, “that’s all he really wants to do.”
When Christie turns on the television to watch Colorado’s road games, Grayson spends the entire 2 ½ hours sprinting in circles around the living room, “reenacting what he’s watching on TV,” she said. It’s similar to what Evan used to do when he was growing up in Toronto, running around the house with a stick. “Whenever there’s a TV timeout, ( Grayson) has a special area that equals the bench and the locker room,” Christie said. “He has it all.”
And now their younger son wants it all, too. As recently as three months ago, Noah had no interest in being near the glass while loud noises reverberated. But then he started to learn the critical human emotion of jealousy.
He recognized his dad on the ice. He realized Grayson was getting a present. So one night, he walked to his brother’s waiting spot, seeking equal treatment.
“They would fight over the puck in the stands,” Evan remembers noticing.
“It took one game, and Evan caught on,” Christie said.
So Puck Mountain is growing twice as fast now.
The team and league have taken notice. The NHL’S official Instagram account has posted video of
the routine twice this season. “It’s become a little ritual of mine,” Evan said.
He’s learning parenting lessons along the way, such as being careful to use the official warm- up pucks that have both team names printed on them. One night, the puck that ended up in Noah’s hands was accidentally a standard, blank puck. Grayson got an official one. Noah bawled.
“Nobody knew what was wrong, because he can’t really talk yet,” Christie said. She figured it out soon enough. “After the game, texting me, Evan’s like, ‘ What happened? Did he get hurt?'” Nope, she said. Blank puck.
When it’s executed correctly, the thrill is showing no signs of passing. Before the Avalanche’s game last Tuesday vs. Tampa, Grayson showed off his prize and declared, “I knew I would get one!” Both sons hoist their pucks like it’s the Stanley Cup. When they leave the warmup spot to go to their regular seats, they pass the same security guards every night, always letting them know, “We got another puck!”
“It has nothing to do with the fact that he’s playing in the NHL,” Christie said. “I think they’re still way too young to understand the significance of that. They’re so happy to see their dad.”
The limitations of their age are that they can’t stay the full game. Bed time calls after the second period. Grayson likes shootouts — his dad is Colorado’s leadoff man — so it stings to leave during close games.
But he and Noah bring home a new memory every time, waiting to be revisited the next day on the kitchen counter.