You've been in Montreal long enough to know that it's Canada's hockey capital. Playing hockey here is a prestigious honour, until you have a bad season. When that happens, everyone becomes a critic, and no player is spared. But I could care less about the game.
I'm writing today about your off-ice personality. As you know, you're by far the best marketed player on the team. You're young, talented, charismatic (still in debate), with a pretty substantial social media following. With that heightened awareness, paired with living in the Hollywood of hockey, you're clearly idolized!
So, when you were spotted out at a popular restaurant yesterday afternoon, you'd assume there'd be fans. Although no one was bothering you, we were happy to see you. After all, you're the guy that brings so much joy to kids and we've got kids! That being said, we had no intention of behaving like groupies. However when we saw you sitting casually, staring at your phone, we thought it'd be a good opportunity to approach you. My friend's eight year old son, who's a diehard fan, was anxiously waiting to see you through Facetime. When we came closer, asking you to simply say 'hi' to her son, you lifted your arm up, clearly disinterested. Needless to say, we were shocked. We understand you want your privacy and when the cameras are off, so are you. But perhaps you missed the fine print when you signed on to be part of this historical organization; you always have to be 'on' for kids.
The Habs are glorified in this city. Every player is admired and adored by fans, especially children. While you were staring at your phone, perhaps researching brand-building tactics, you failed to meet the expectations of a mom and her child. After she pleaded for you to simply greet her visibly eager son on Facetime, you just waved and turned away. Clearly, it was your day off! No media was present, your PR team was on break, and you were uninterested in giving ten seconds of joy to a huge fan.
Expectations are the root of all heartache, yet as fans, we can't deny our excitement when we see players. You're more than oversized skaters with a number on a jersey. To fans, especially children, you're heroes. You give them hope that any goal is achievable and that off the ice, you really do care. Needless to say, you left a mom bruised with disappointment in your reaction (or lack of) towards her son.
In my opinion, the PK Subban brand is overrated. The fact remains that a hockey player is also a public figure. Every smile, wave, autograph is equally as valuable as scoring a winning goal. I'm not sure what was going in your life that day, but if you were having a bad one, you still needed to show your game face. Acknowledging a kid with a smile, a wave and possibly echoing his name, was all we hoped for. Do you not see the worth in your branding power? To sustain your brand value, I suggest you pause your social media feed, look in the mirror, and reboot your human chip.
Perhaps we're at fault for investing financially and emotionally in your brand, losing sight of the inconvenient truth that you're simply that - a brand. Your social media content holds evidence that you're motivated to help sick children. Those very posts are what touch parents and children alike, making you a hero. Yet after our confrontation yesterday, I agree with the comment you made in your Valentine's Day video, "Too much love for one person." I'm not sure you're so deserving of all this love, given your weak return policy. Hoping that the next fan is spared the same disappointment, I leave you with this simple truth:
As a yoga practitioner, I can't end on this sour note. I believe there is light within all of us and yesterday, yours was dim. My intention in writing today isn't to piss you off, start shaming you, or open the platform to hate messages. My intention is to simply bring light to the fact that your actions hold much more significance than you may care to know. Be kind...that's what makes a true all-star.Namaste,
Marisa
