Every once in a while, you get a glimpse. A small sliver of what this sport means beyond the games being played, the impact it can have on the lives of the people intertwined in the small world of hockey.

One of those glimpses emerged on the ice in Traverse City, Michigan during Red Wings training camp last week. The practices were over, the efforts to catch the eyes of management and coaches had passed. Everybody had cleared off the ice except two skaters – Red Wings forward Riley Sheahan and a nine-year-old boy named Zack.

It was hockey in its purest form. A couple of friends on the ice, having fun, smiling. Sheahan along the wall, setting up Zack for easy tap-in goals. Or Sheahan lobbing pucks up the ice so that Zack had to enter a full-on stride to chase it down for a breakaway on the other end.

Red Wings forward Riley Sheahan and Zack Stonehouse, 9, pause for a moment after skating together on the ice. [Photos courtesy of the Stonehouse family]

Watching, there was no way of knowing Zack shouldn’t have been on the ice in the first place, at least not holding a hockey stick. A few days earlier, he’d made an ill-fated leap on the monkey bars according to his mom, one rung too far before he came crashing to the ground. His wrist snapped. He was in a cast.

But he wasn’t going to miss this. Skating with Sheahan, who in this session taught him how to make plays with one good hand, was now a yearly ritual he looked forward to more than anything else.

It’s a tradition Sheahan and Zack enjoyed even before tragedy struck Zack’s young life, changing it in a way he has no way of comprehending, even as the months have passed from the moment that changed everything.

***

Sheahan, at 25 years old, has gone through more trials than the usual NHL player. Last year, he became a national story when he went nearly the entire season without scoring a single goal. It was painful to watch. He still was doing all the things that made him a 14-goal scorer the previous season. He plays an honest game on both ends of the ice. He gets his big 6-foot-3 frame in front of the net regularly enough that a puck was bound to go in.

Finally, in one of the great stories from an otherwise lost Red Wings season, Sheahan scored two goals in the final NHL game ever played at Joe Louis Arena.

It was a fitting finish for a young player who deserved better throughout the season, the hockey gods rewarding him for putting his head down and quietly enduring a nightmarish season without complaint.

The historic goal drought was the second time Sheahan had become a national story in his career. The first was of his own making.

As a 20-year-old Red Wings prospect Sheahan was arrested on Oct. 29 during a traffic stop in Grand Rapids where he twice registered a blood alcohol level of .30. He was in full Halloween costume. It was inexcusable, dangerous and made headlines well beyond the small hockey world.

It was around this time Sheahan first met Russ Stonehouse. Zack’s dad.

The guy everybody called ‘Stoney’ was a corrections officer in the Kent County Sheriff’s department. He was a diehard sports fan. He loved the Tigers. He loved Michigan State. But it was hockey that was his biggest love.

Stonehouse and his father had season tickets to the Grand Rapids Griffins since the AHL team’s inaugural season. He’d make road trips to see the Red Wings . He especially loved his job in Traverse City, where he worked security at both the annual prospect tournament and Red Wings training camp.

“He would help anybody,” said Brad Thompson, the Grand Rapids Griffins equipment manager who grew up five doors down from Stonehouse. “You know that fireman mentality? You’re going to look after somebody? If I’m over here helping out with something, he’s not afraid to step in and say, ‘Let me get that for you.’”

It’s how he was wired. If someone was struggling with anything, he’d step in to help. And Sheahan was struggling as a young professional hockey player making poor life decisions when he first crossed paths with Stonehouse. Stonehouse helped walk him through the process, explaining exactly what to expect.

“He did a lot when I was going through some tough times,” Sheahan told The Athletic. “It was a down point in my career. He helped make it a little easier… he did a lot in a spot where I didn’t want to be in.”

The two struck a bond. Eventually, that bond led to Sheahan meeting Stonehouse’s hockey-playing son, Zack.

“We hit it off,” Sheahan said. “His son is awesome.”

So whenever he could, Sheahan made time for Zack. They’d skate together. They’d chat when the Stonehouse family attended games. Sheahan enjoyed getting texts and calls from Stonehouse updating Zack’s youth hockey accomplishments. Zack was turning into a good little goal-scoring defenseman.

“He made sure he was still playing the right way,” Sheahan said, smiling.

Stonehouse was so proud of his son and the player he was becoming.

“100 percent,” Sheahan said..

All of that made the text Brad Thompson had to send Sheahan last May one of the hardest he’s ever had to send.

***

Deputy Stonehouse died on Sunday, May 7 in a single car accident when he lost control of his car. The car flipped and rolled over at 2:05 a.m. on U.S. 131 near M-82. Investigators said neither alcohol or drugs were involved in the accident.

Months later, there’s still no explanation of what happened. Just a huge hole in the lives of those closest to him.

“We’re not quite sure what happened,” his wife Kerri Stonehouse said in a recent phone conversation with The Athletic. “Maybe he saw a deer and swerved to miss it. We don’t know.”

Stonehouse was 13 days away from retirement.

At 6:30 a.m. on the morning Stonehouse was killed, Thompson walked his dog down to the Stonehouse residence to see if he could provide a grieving family with a glimmer of comfort. He saw the front door was open, took a deep breath and approached it. He was shaking.

Kerri answered the door and let him in. Zack was still in his pajamas and immediately started playing with Thompson’s dog. He loves that dog.

That’s when the what-ifs began. What if he was wearing a seat belt? What if he took a different route? What if he had been driving at a different time?

Just a couple nights earlier they were all at a Whitecaps game together as a family. They caught a foul ball from Cam Gibson. Life was so good.

“They all had their dad,” Thompson said. “A day later…”

Everything was different. That afternoon, Thompson started sending texts to Griffins and Red Wings players with the news. By now, Russ and Zack had formed close relationships with players beyond just Sheahan.

Stonehouse’s last post on Facebook was of one of his favorite little traditions within the game. After Griffins warmups, Grand Rapids forward Eric Tangradi would skate over to the glass and find Zack watching. Tangradi, in full gear, moments away from playing in an AHL game, would play a quick game of rock, paper, scissors. If Zack won, Tangradi would flip the puck over the glass as a souvenir.

The rock, paper, scissors match usually extended long enough for Zack to win.

So Thompson sent out the texts.

Stoney was gone.

“Right away, Riley asked me for the phone number for Kerri so he could console her,” Thompson said. “It was a tough couple weeks.”

A relationship that started under conditions Sheahan would rather forget has deepened into one he never would have imagined.

Zack got to drop the puck at the Red Wings annual celebrity game in Traverse City last weekend. Sheahan is eager to invite him to see the new arena in Detroit. They’re filling in where they can for his dad. Thompson has taught Kerri the proper way to tape a hockey stick, something she didn’t have to worry about when her husband was alive. She consults with them on the proper hockey equipment to buy her son.

“To be a nine-year-old kid, when you need your dad the most, it’s going to be tough,” Sheahan said.

So he spent a little extra time on the ice with him this year in Traverse City. Fed him a few more passes than usual.

“He looked happy,” Sheahan said.

It’s the great thing about hockey. Everything else can come crashing down around you, but step on the ice and it disappears. Even if for a moment.

Along the way, bonds are formed. Some between teammates. Some between fans and players.

The last text Sheahan remembers receiving from Stonehouse was him relaying a story about a video game Zack was playing. In the game, Zack collects hockey cards of players from all eras to form a team to play hockey. Zack had assembled a team with Wayne Gretzky, Sidney Crosby, Connor McDavid and, of course, Sheahan.

Teasing his son, Stonehouse asked how Sheahan made that powerhouse hockey team. Zack didn’t miss a beat.

“Dad,” Zack answered, “we put friends first.”