Jan Rutta

On the road between Chomutov and Kadaň, you can see the power plant in Prunéřov. It is a concrete monster with three cooling towers that spew vapor nonstop. On your right, this colossus, on your left, some pipes, and at the bus stop the same prostitute all of the time. Before you turn left from the main road, you have to go through a place where the morning fog is as thick as milk. You can see two meters ahead of your car, max. Driving this road every day drives you crazy. Insane. The scenery alone can give you depression.

I regularly drove through this scene to an old-school, first-league stadium where it’s always minus-20 degrees Celsius and the fans are few. I was 23. I was sent here without any obvious reason from Chomutov to the backup team, despite ending the previous season as one of the best defensive players and despite feeling like I had added a lot to our team's success.

It was a time when I hated my life. I was devastated. That was the lowest point of my career and I was seriously thinking about quitting hockey. It didn’t seem like it was worth it.

Chomutov had no idea what they were doing. Once again, they had bought a ton of new players and started the season all wrong. They kept trying it with new guys, even from our team in Kadaň. Although they’d drawn some defensemen, they never picked me. I wasn’t worse than any of them but I never got my chance.

I worked so hard. I really did. All the frustration with my situation and the feeling of injustice turned into anger and a great need to prove myself; to show everyone how wrong they were and how big of a mistake they had made. At first, I felt hopeless, but with it all behind me now, I can honestly say I played really well. That was the only thing that could have earned me a return ticket to Chomutov -- and eventually a ticket to the NHL.

I didn’t know the reason why my club treated me that way. From the very first second I stepped on the ice in the summer, the coaches shouted at me, told me how bad I was, what things I was doing wrong, and how inexperienced I was. 

I’m the type of guy who, if he gets shouted at, plays much worse.

I did my best, I really did. At the end of the previous season, we got a new coach, Mr. Čelanský, and I finished the season among the top three defenders under his leadership. I was counting on finally having a stable position on the A-team the next season. But after two weeks back on the ice, he called me in for a talk. He told me how he expected me to fit in one of the top three positions but he just didn't feel it was happening. I had to go to Kadaň.

If my pay had been insanely high, I would have understood why they had to get rid of me, but it wasn’t that. My pay was average for a player my age, and management had just added a bunch of new players who were paid much better than me, even though my performance was better than theirs.

My world ended. Everything crumbled. It was unthinkable to call my biggest fan, my dad, and tell him what had happened. That alone scared me.

My agent at the time was an absolute joke. He didn’t even pick up my calls. Suddenly, I felt like I was back at the beginning, back where I was my first three years in Chomutov. I was a lost soul.