As coach of the Avalanche, he’s stuck with the worst job in the NHL. So what’s the only upside to being Jared Bednar, enduring the pain of a franchise that can’t win for losing? He’s as invisible as a ghost in Denver.

In a strip mall barely 600 yards north of the rink where the Avalanche practices, I walked into a hot dog stand on Friday, and in honor of this gosh-awful hockey team, ordered a lunch of the absolute wurst. While deciding whether to add a side of fries, I conducted an unscientific survey of four hungry guys behind me in line. There was only one question in my poll:

Can you name the coach of the Avs?

The response was three blank stares from three men so stumped for an answer you could hear the “Jeopardy!” theme song playing in their heads. Then their buddy bravely stepped forward from the back of the pack to venture a guess.

“Well, I know it’s not Patrick Roy,” declared Dusty, whose last name has been withheld to protect an innocent bystander ambushed by a smart-aleck columnist looking to prove how far the Avs have fallen out of the local sports conversation. “To tell the truth, I don’t know the name of the coach. Who’d they get?”

The sad truth: The Avs are now defined primarily by what they’re not. They’re not any good on defense. They’re not loved. They’re not where classy veteran Jarome Iginla wants to finish a distinguished professional career.

And the Avs certainly are not healthy for the job security of Bednar, a likable 44-year-old former defenseman who traveled the back roads of the minor leagues all his adult life, before finally earning a shot to work in the NHL.

The Avalanche gave him the keys to his dream. Now his dream is a five-alarm fire. With a record of 14-33-2, Colorado is a hot mess.

“I take it personally,” Bednar said. “I want to win.”

None of this mess is Bednar’s fault, of course. He signed a three-year contract to replace Roy on the bench, and general manager Joe Sakic would look foolish to scapegoat the coach for the struggles of the Avalanche, which could not have a worse record if they were an expansion team stocked by rivals’ rejects.

Firing Bednar would be heartless and gutless. But, fair or not, the future of everybody on a bad hockey team is day to day.

“It’s not easy for anyone: the management, the coaches or the players, especially approaching a trade deadline, when there’s rumors and all that kind of stuff. Everybody’s minds can kind of scatter,” Bednar said.

“My philosophy on it is: We know where we’re at, we know what kind of season we’ve had. But the funnest part of the game is the competition, right? … We have to have a short memory and continue to move on. Because it’s not like we have a week to go in the season. There’s a lot of hockey to be played and we have a lot of improving to do.”

Bednar has walked into the middle of a crisis at the Pepsi Center, where the Kroenke sports empire goes to crumble. On one night, the arena is half empty for basketball, despite the presence of rising Nuggets star Nikola Jokic. On the next afternoon, a sparse crowd for the Avalanche tries to keep the faith for a hockey club so desperate that Mark Barberio, recently cut by Montreal, started on the second defensemen pairing against Winnipeg.

This hockey town looks good wearing a smile, though. The rarest sound of the season was heard Saturday. There was laughter in the Avalanche dressing room, after Colorado beat Winnipeg 5-2 to end a nine-game losing streak. “It’s not just laughs and giggles, but you’ve got to have some fun,” said Iginla, who opened the scoring in the first period with a wicked wrist shot that froze Jets goaltender Ondrej Pavelec.

More than two decades ago, when Avs were fresh to Colorado and any hockey dream seemed possible, the team made a bold trade for Roy, who brought his legendary status as a goalie with him to the Rocky Mountains from Montreal. Within hours of arriving in Denver, he suggested we get to know each other over lunch, at a restaurant within shouting distance of the team’s practice facility. Roy was confident he would not be recognized by the diners in a Broncos-crazy town.

Wrong. Within five minutes of ordering our food, a man walked up to the table and declared: “You look just like Patrick Roy!”

“Thank you,” Roy replied. “You are not the first person who has told me that.”

We can only hope Bednar gets the chance to make a name for himself in Denver.