I remember my dad asking me one time, and it's something that has always stuck with me: 'Why not you, Russ?' You know, why not me? Why not me in the Super Bowl?
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I had to get some things right in my personal life. And once I got my family on the same page, to understand who I am and what I do for a living, I asked my oldest daughter, 'What do you think about Daddy coming back?' And she said, 'I didn't think you were done. I want you to win the Super Bowl.'
When you're 0-2 in the Super Bowl, they say unkind things about you. They say, 'He can't win the big one.' And that's the worst thing that can be said about you.
I've seen fathers criticizing their sons the moment a game's over. Not my dad. It doesn't matter if I threw an interception or a Hail Mary, he always says, 'Good job, son, I'm proud of you.' Then he shakes my hand and gives me a hug. Every time.
I was kind of smart enough when I was young, 14 or 15 years old, to realize that if you're ever going to do anything and step out of the shadow of your own dad - not only in hockey, but in life itself - you're going to have to learn you're Brett and not 'Bobby's son.'
I am a diehard Seahawks fan because I'm born and raised in Seattle.
My dad never really played basketball, but now he's my biggest critic. I come home, and he says: 'Why didn't you shoot there? Why didn't you drive?'
My father wasn't around when I was a kid, and I used to always say, 'Why me? Why don't I have a father? Why isn't he around? Why did he leave my mother?' But as I got older I looked deeper and thought, 'I don't know what my father was going through, but if he was around all the time, would I be who I am today?'
You remember driving your kids to Little League, and they're nervous about making the team, and you're encouraging them. Forty years down the road, we're having the same conversation. Only it's about the Ravens and Steelers, or Stanford and Cal.
If you think back to the first sporting event you went to, you don't remember the score, you don't remember a home run, you don't remember a dunk. You remember who you were with. Were you with your mom, your dad, your brother, on a date?
My father has never once asked me a question, any question. There's a freedom that came from that. It allowed me to create my own way of thinking.