Bratten: Thank You and Farewell, Smashville

For the first time ever, I feel like Pekka Rinne.
I'll never win a Vezina Trophy or have a banner raised to the Bridgestone Arena rafters in my honor, and I surely won't be stopping pucks in the National Hockey League anytime soon, but recently, I've been resonating with Nashville's favorite son.
As I've sorted through my feelings on all of this over the past few days, weeks and months while trying to determine if I really wanted to say goodbye to the only full-time "job" I've ever known, I often found myself taking solace in a 12-word statement uttered by the Finn as he announced his retirement from hockey last year.
"I know I can still do it, but my priorities have changed," he said regarding his decision.
Indeed, I now feel like Pekka.

After eight seasons, 617 regular season games worked - and 75 more in the playoffs - two Central Division championships, one Presidents' Trophy, two outdoor games, one NHL All-Star Weekend hosted, three more All-Star Weekends attended, seven NHL Drafts, one run to the Stanley Cup Final, 174 podcasts and more written stories than I can count, my professional journey with the Nashville Predators has come to an end.
The decision is mine, and it's one that wasn't easy to make, but I know in my heart the time has simply arrived for something different.
In a way, I'm just as surprised as everyone else I've told over the past couple of weeks, but I'm quite excited to go back to viewing the sport in the manner that first got me way back when.
I grew up in Pittsburgh, and I remember attending a Penguins game back in 1998 (I think?) at the old Igloo, but I consider December 27, 2000 - the night Mario Lemieux came out of retirement - as the evening I became hooked.
Every hockey fan has a story similar to this - a special game, player or moment that no longer made it possible to ignore the greatest sport on earth - and my fandom only grew from there.
My first introduction to hockey in Nashville was seeing a virtual Bridgestone Arena on a video game. I don't consider myself an architecture aficionado, but I always thought the two giant pillars in the bowl were cool. Fifteen years later, I was staring at them inside an empty building, dressed in an oversized suit in the midst of an in-person interview while trying to convince the Predators I was the right person for the job.
That three-day visit in July of 2014 was the first time I had ever stepped foot in the Music City, and one month later, I was sitting down at my desk in the front office of an NHL hockey club, something I never thought possible at the age of 23.
Over the next eight seasons, I had the coolest "job" in town.
I became acclimated rather quickly when I was hit in the head by an errant puck at practice just two months into my tenure and required three staples to seal the wound. I was named employee of the month shortly thereafter. Totally worth it.
Riding on Ryan Johansen's pontoon in Vancouver with Colton Sissons was a highlight. So was seeing Rinne win the Vezina Trophy in person. Dinners on the road, relishing the victories and beaming with pride when I told people I worked for the Preds were all pretty great, too.

Coworkers ask me from time to time why I have my packages shipped to 501 Broadway instead of my home address, and my answer is always some form of: "Because I'm here more than I'm home." But Smashville did become my home, as is the case with so many of you, and there's simply nothing else in hockey that compares.
But it's not the games or the practices or the road trips - and certainly not the morning skates - that I'll miss the most.
I had always heard hockey people were the best people. Well, it's true.
I'll miss asking questions of players, coaches, management and the like, especially after the wins that made us all feel like we were on top of the world. I'll miss learning more about the game from Peter Laviolette, John Hynes and David Poile. I'll miss Matt Cullen making me feel welcome in my first season; James Neal and Johansen chirping me for my loud suits; Mattias Ekholm for his insightful answers; Mark Borowiecki for his unending kindness; Roman Josi for his willingness to be interviewed over and over again, and I'll miss Rinne always making sure to acknowledge me and say hello each and every time he passed by.
I'll miss the moments when you, the readers and listeners, stopped me on arena concourses or sidewalks all over the continent to tell me you enjoyed a story or hearing the podcast every week. Those interactions were always my favorite, by the way. They showed me my work was worth something, and you kept me going time and time again.
Jim Halpert was right.
Well, mostly.
As John Krasinski, the actor who played the fictional character on the television series, "The Office," recited his final lines of the show, I related to him, too.
"Everything I have, I owe to this job," he said. "This stupid, wonderful, boring, amazing job."
I say he was mostly right, because this job was anything but stupid or boring. But otherwise?

When I moved to Nashville eight years ago, I didn't know anyone. Just three days into my run, however, I met Thomas Willis, who's now my best friend. And then in the fall of 2019, someone new sat at the lunch table.
I can't wait to marry my fiancée, Amy - who I just happened to meet in the break room inside our offices - in September. If you're single, bring your lunch to work. You never know.
I've called Nashville home for eight years now, and although I've attended every Predators home game over that time - except for a few last season when I got a break from being in "the Bubble" - I've never been to Bridgestone Arena as a fan. I'm looking forward to that experience for the first time ever more than I can describe.
I hope I've helped to grow the game, made some of you bigger fans, taught you something new along the way or helped you feel closer to your favorite team. I can assure you the pleasure has been all mine.
You've heard it before, but I'll leave you emphasizing this one more time. As someone who has been to an NHL game in every other market, there really is no place like Smashville. The atmosphere, the chants, the standing ovations - they make a difference, and there's nothing else like it in the entire League.
I can't wait to join you in one of those standing ovations sometime next season.
Until then, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.
Yours in hockey,
Brooks