Ryan Miller Forever

Ryan Miller was never my favorite player. Some of that was just him not being the kind of player I'm generally drawn to. Too noticeable and too popular. But if I'm being honest, I didn't really particularly like Ryan when I first started watching the Sabres. His play was kind of streaky, he was so emotional and a little bit fragile, and sometimes a bit prickly. But every once in a while, if you're really lucky, you get to watch an athlete become something while wearing your team's jersey. I think that's half the fun of Josh Allen, and it's the thing I treasure most about Ryan Miller. 

At the end of the day, a fan base simply cannot ask an athlete to be more and do more than Ryan Miller was and did during his time in Buffalo. He was never anything less than thoughtful and honest in even the most run of the mill post-game interviews. Most players answer questions like "What was going on in your mind?" with cliche upon cliche, but Ryan would respond with what angles he was looking at and percentages and shooter tendencies and what his frame of mind was. He often seemed to be thinking through situations that happened on the ice out loud in real time, something that a lot of athletes can't do - I think it's just so natural to them that they genuinely can't explain it - and something most athletes just wouldn't risk doing. There were times that those honest, unfiltered think-alouds annoyed or upset fans, but it didn't stop Ryan from doing the same thing the next game. It's just who he was. He wore his heart right there on his sleeve every night. 

I was flipping through old blog entries last night, and I don't know if you remember this, but we were hard on Ryan. Here's a blog post I wrote, in entirety:

But here's what else I'd forgotten: Ryan absolutely dragged an underperforming team through the 2007 playoffs. Chris Drury and Daniel Briere will probably always get the most credit for those couple of years of success, but Ryan is *the* reason that team didn't go out embarrassingly early. He deserved to advance to the Finals with Ottawa while all the rest of the Sabres went home. There will always be people who complain that Ryan never led a Sabres team to a Cup, but the list of goalies that can single-handedly carry a team that far is pretty, pretty short if not non-existent. Ryan not being on a Cup winner doesn't take away from the fact that he took his play seriously, was always fiercely competitive, and seemed to be deeply disappointed in himself and his teammates when their play wasn't at the level needed to succeed. If he was occasionally still a little overly emotional over the years, it was because he cared a lot. 

And then, of course, there's just how deeply embedded Ryan was in Buffalo. He made his home here, the Steadfast Foundation did oodles of good work, the Catwalk for Charity was a local institution. He spoke glowingly about the city in a way that made it clear that he did actually know, understand, and love it. Professional athletes and their families are people with preferences and interests just like the rest of us, and it shouldn't be a surprise that athletes sometimes end up in a city that just doesn't fit them for whatever reason. But sometimes an athlete ends up in a city that's just right, the match like peanut butter and jelly. That's how Ryan always felt. Sometimes you can just feel that an athlete is especially happy to be wearing the jersey he's wearing. That was Ryan. He loved the Sabres organization, he loved his teammates, he loved the city, and he loved us. It's kind of a dumb thing to be happy about, right? At the end of the day, professional athletes are just normal people who are weirdly good at skills that aren't even particularly important in the grand scheme of things. It shouldn't really matter if they love us. But it does. It's one of those weird, illogical things about being a sports fan. 

I was so happy to hear that so many former Sabres were going to be at Ryan Miller's number retirement ceremony because, like a lot of people, I think about that period of time with a deep and genuine fondness. I grew up a sports fan, but I'd always been a fan from afar. The Pittsburgh Pirates, my number one team for most of my life, had a few good years in my youth, but I lived in Birmingham, Alabama, pre-MLB TV and sports streaming. I was completely removed from the atmosphere. That era of Sabres hockey was the first time I'd ever experienced what it was like to live in a city when a team was lighting it up, when you could have a conversation about last night's game or the next series or playoff chances with almost literally anyone around you, man, woman, or child. I'd been in Buffalo for five or six years at that point and while I wasn't unhappy here, it wasn't home yet. The Sabres made it home. Those Sabres brought so many wonderful people into my life. When I sit in the arena tonight, I'll be thinking of other bloggers and other fans, some still friends, some I've lost touch with, but all people I think about often and warmly. Shoot, I might even raise a glass to Bucky Gleason, wherever he may be. That was just such a magical time to be a Sabres fan in Buffalo, at least for me. I'm pretty sure I'm not alone there.

None of that happens without Ryan Miller. If you asked who my favorite players were from that era I'd name Hank, Toni, and Jochen, but I can look back and know that Ryan was the heart of that era. He was the connective tissue that held the good years together as long as possible. When other players chose to leave - and they all chose, one way or another - Ryan was the one who stayed. He's the one who really wanted to win a Cup while wearing a Sabres jersey. He wanted that for himself, and he wanted that for us. I believe that to my core. There's no other professional athlete that I'm more thankful I got to root for. What a gift it was to watch that fragile, emotional kid turn into a thoughtful, generous man who also turned out to be pretty darn good at playing goalie. He gave his best for us, in every possible way, every night year after year, and I can't wait to watch him fall apart while we cheer his number into the rafters. 

You're the best, Ryan. Thanks, buddy.