Gregg Sutch played in the Ontario Hockey League for five seasons (2008-09 to 2012-13). He finished his career with the Saginaw Spirit, where he was one of Terry Trafford’s linemates. Sutch, 22, was a first-round draft pick in the OHL and a fifth-round pick of the Buffalo Sabres in the 2010 NHL entry draft. He is currently retired from hockey and will be writing on occasion for Yahoo Sports. – Ed., SS

It's been a few days now since Terry Trafford was found dead in his truck, and the tragedy has been replaying over in my head day in and day out. We all know the story of Trafford by now, but that's not what I'm here to write about. What I want to discuss is how we react to this tragedy.

It's pretty clear hockey needs a serious overhaul:

The face of major junior needs major reform.

The way we view hockey players needs to change.

Hockey players need to change the way we see ourselves.

For many of us, the words “I am a hockey player” have become a social stigma. Hockey has become so overwhelming and blown out of proportion that it consumes our lives. We grow up playing hockey and after a while we allow hockey to define us. Hockey becomes who we are. Everything about us is related to hockey - the way we carry ourselves, the way we dress, the way we act and talk. It's become so prevalent that people can pick out hockey players in a crowd. Is that really good anymore?

Stereotypically, a hockey player is supposed to be a man’s man and as tough as nails. If you're a hockey player, you don't want to speak out if you need help. Why? Because you're supposed to be tough.

A hockey player's biggest fear is for someone to call us a "baby" or "soft." Our biggest fear is that if we admit we need help with something or, if you don't want to play hockey anymore, we will not longer be viewed as that tough hockey player. When you grow up that way, there's no way you're going to face those fears. A hockey player will suck it up and drag it out for as long as they can, playing minor hockey in remote cities making very low pay, because sometimes that's all you know.

I've been there.

It was one of, if not my main fear, when moving on from the game. I was scared people would say I was “soft” because I didn’t want to play hockey anymore. This needs to change. If you continue to be overwhelmed and live with that fear, it'll eat you up. You won't ask for help when you really do need it, and the problem will grow.

I know too many guys who continue playing hockey well into their late 20s, early 30s, toiling in remote leagues, because hockey is all they know. At some point, though, we all have accept the reality that there is life after hockey.

Five years ago, I was in Los Angeles in a room with NHLers John Tavares, Cam Fowler, and Adam Larsson. In a seminar conducted by former actor and leadership consultant, Steve Shenbaum, we were asked to write down five things we valued. The trick? We weren’t allowed to write hockey, family or friends. After 20 minutes, I had nothing on my paper. It was something so simple, yet so alarming. I couldn't think of one thing I valued aside from the obvious. That day I vowed to grow myself as a person and value more than just the obvious. Fortunately, that's what helped me move on from the game because I knew I was more than just a hockey player.

Shenbaum called these five values "your coins" and told us to always carry them with us. He told us not to talk solely about hockey when meeting people because it was our values that made us special.

We see too many kids now who grow up playing the game, and that's all they know. In the event hockey is ripped away – say a career ending injury or being cut from a team – and you no longer know who you are. That's what scares me. Kids, grow yourself as a person away from the rink because one day, you will have to hang up the skates and be more than hockey; it's inevitable.

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