"It's been overwhelming," said Jill. "Stan would have thought this was too much. Playing hockey was his job, and he did it well, but he didn't go around acting like a star. I mean, if he had to at home, he washed the floors. So he wouldn't have wanted all this fuss."
Exactly. Stan was more than an icon in skates. He was a pillar of the community, and a beloved figure in a city he called home after leaving his native Czechoslovakia as a child.
Stan never forgot his humble roots, and as the soul of the Blackhawks, urged young teammates to give back to worthy causes. Many of Stan's finest contributions occurred as a civilian, in street shoes, away from cameras. He didn't just dabble in charitable endeavors, he surrounded them.
Jill dropped the puck for a ceremonial faceoff between Blackhawks' captain Jonathan Toews and John Tavares of the Toronto Maple Leafs, an Original Six member Stan knew only too well. Most of their games were of a truculent sort, but as Hull praised, the diminutive Mikita was "pound for pound, the greatest hockey player ever." No. 21 vexed opponents with skill, creativity and toughness.
"I wish I could hear his voice one more time," concluded Jill. "I wish I could hear that laugh again. We had a wonderful life together, but I have to let go."