Thirteen years ago, Rick DiPietro was the hottest thing in American hockey. As a freshman, the Winthrop, Massachusetts native fast became the biggest man on Boston University's campus, having arrived by way of the U.S. National Development Team, a prestigious high-school-type program in Ann Arbor, Michigan, that looks to churn out our next great hockey pro much in the way that baseball-crazy Caribbean nations fund specialized academies for elite prospects. He was skilled, photogenic, a rising American star in a sport that could always use a few more. After just one season at BU, one that ended in a heart-breaking loss in the NCAA Tournament, he declared for the NHL Draft and the New York Islanders made him the first goalie ever taken No. 1 overall.

Now, at only 31, DiPietro may have already played his final game in the NHL. Two weeks ago, still smack in the middle of a 15-year, $67 million contract that's dogged him since he put ink to paper, DiPietro was waived by the New York Islanders and eventually sent away to their minor-league affiliate. He told a local TV reporter he felt the Islanders had "ripped my heart out, stabbed it, set it on fire and flushed it down the toilet." He struggled mightily in his first two starts in the minors, allowing 11 goals on 64 shots. It looks like a miserable coda (in all likelihood) to a professional sports career that once held limitless promise.

When I heard about DiPietro's demotion, I couldn't help but feel for him personally. My sophomore year was his freshman season, and as the hockey beat writer for the student paper, I spent more time with the team than almost anyone who wasn't actually on it. I'd call him in his dorm room. He'd chat with me after games. I wrote an extended profile of him, one that focused almost exclusively on the bravado and tenacity that made earned him the conference's Rookie of the Year Award. Some wünderkinds might wash out because they never really like playing that much in the first place, pushed into playing by overzealous parents and coaches because of their natural athleticism and skill. That wasn't Rick.

The end of DiPietro's career is not a surprise — the player I'd seen the last 12-plus years rarely matched with the one frozen within the sliver of my brain labeled "2000" — but the drama surrounding his demotion made me ponder the person I once knew (or thought I knew) and how he could have possibly arrived at this point.