Any player would take this highlight reel: a Stanley Cup, a Hart Trophy, two Olympic gold medals, and an induction into the Hockey Hall of Fame. But when Chris Pronger reflects on his 18-year career in the National Hockey League, including his time from 1995 to 2004 with the St. Louis Blues, he thinks first of the things that don’t appear on his résumé.
In Earned: The True Cost of Greatness from One of Hockey’s Fiercest Competitors, his new memoir out today from Mission Driven Press, the former Blues defenseman traces a path that was anything but linear. In Pronger’s telling, there would have been no success without the setbacks—from the early struggles to develop his game, to stretches of intense scrutiny in St. Louis, to the challenge of meeting and enforcing the relentless standards of mentors and coaches, including former Blues bench boss Mike Keenan. That perspective serves the book’s thesis that anything worth it has to be earned the hard way.
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Pronger, a native of Canada who currently lives in St. Louis, will discuss the book and his career tonight from 6:30–7:30 p.m. at Stifel Theatre ahead of the Blues’ final home game. He sat down with SLM to discuss his motivation for writing the memoir and the lessons he believes can be applied to a career on the ice and beyond.
When you started working on this book, was there anything that surprised you about your career when you looked back on it?
How much adversity I faced at every turn. Early on, it was trying to find myself and figure out who I was and how I needed to play. Then it was injuries, trades, contract negotiations—all the way to how it ended. At every turn, there was some piece of adversity, something in the way, or something I had to fight and battle through. But as I’m looking at writing the book, and looking at my career arc from pre-NHL to post-NHL, it’s clear that we’re never done evolving. We’re never, ever done learning.
In the book, you make it clear that fighting through adversity is something to embrace. Why was that such an important takeaway for you?
I talk about it a lot in my speeches and various talks, or just to people in general. Adversity is a gift. You need to challenge yourself. You need to face adversity. And, oh, by the way? You need to fail. That means you’re challenging yourself and you’re trying to level up. It means you have big goals and dreams. You hear people all the time set big, audacious goals. How are you going to reach them if you don’t push yourself?
When you were a young player, you obviously had those big goals yourself. But it took you a few years to really figure out how to reach them. Your book touches on the importance of developing standards and structured habits. Was there anything you had to unlearn before you could develop what you needed to get where you wanted to go?
I had to get rid of the victim mentality that I had. It was always somebody else’s fault. It was the fans’ fault, or it was the coaches being mean, [or] expectations are too high. Until I took ownership and accountability for myself, my play, and my actions, I wasn’t going to go anywhere. For me, it was a combination of developing a stronger mindset and a set of non-negotiables that I could adhere to every single day.
Can you give me examples of those non-negotiables?
They can be simple things. You can be the hardest worker in the room. That doesn’t take anything other than effort. When I look at my standards, it was about developing a more powerful mindset, leaning into adversity, and constantly challenging myself. That’s something you can do every day. Taking care of your health and wellness is something you can do every day. There’s all kinds of things that seem too simple, but when you add them all up, they’re not.
As a young player, which guys in the dressing room helped you start developing better habits and standards?
That’s another important factor, having mentors. Brad McCrimmon in Hartford was integral, even though I didn’t necessarily understand it at the time. A lot of his teachings and a lot of what he was preaching to me would ultimately rub off on me. Then, coming here to St. Louis and having Al MacInnis, and seeing how he prepared, how he handled the media, and how he handled the scrutiny and showed up consistently and played every single night. When you’re able to learn from those types of people, you’ve got to be a sponge. You’ve got to be willing to soak up the information and then utilize it in a manner that fits you.
Who else helped push you?
Mike Keenan. I think, No. 1, he believed in my talent. But, No. 2, he pushed me, as he had done with a number of other players in the different cities where he coached, because he found somebody that he could ride, control, poke and prod, and push to find their ceiling. You need people like that. You can’t be deterred by feeling like they’re picking on you. When you have a victim mentality, it feels like that. Ultimately, you learn that they actually have your best interest at heart. They’re trying to push you to reach that ceiling. But you also have to challenge yourself at every turn. Every goal—every dream—starts with challenging yourself and leaning into the adversity that you will face.
The subtitle of the book is The True Cost of Greatness. You were a polarizing guy. What do you think it actually cost you, personally, to play and lead the way you did?
With everything I dealt with early on—the pressure, the weight of expectations, the booing, the fan scrutiny, the media scrutiny—it all hardened me. It also forced me to look in the mirror and ask myself: How good do you want to be? Then it becomes, Alright, if I’m the guy and I’m showing up and doing all this stuff, then I need to drag everybody else along. I need to push your buttons to get you to play good. Because I’m the one that’s going to take the media hits, right? I’m the one who’s going to get the fan scrutiny. Everybody’s looking at me.
How much did that come into focus for you during your time with the Blues?
If you look at the arc of my career in St. Louis, in the beginning I was booed. Then I was beloved. Then, [people said], ‘Well, you can’t win with that guy.’ There was a lot of scrutiny from the media, probably the last three or four years of my time here. Can you win with him? Is he really the guy? I had to leave to then prove that. People look at all kinds of players, trades, and organizations and wonder why a guy leaves and wins elsewhere. You could look at every franchise and find guys like that. Sometimes you need a change. Sometimes you need to change the scenery. Sometimes you need a new opportunity. Sometimes it’s not the right fit. There are a multitude of reasons why it doesn’t always work. Sometimes it does. Sometimes a team isn’t patient enough or a team hasn’t come together. I mean, look at the Blues in 2019 with Alex Pietrangelo. I’m sure people were saying, ‘Oh, you’re never going to win with this guy. You’re never going to do this or that.’ The next thing you know, they win. Unfortunately, patience is not something that fans, or media, or a lot of teams are good at. It’s a what-can-you-do-for-me-now league. The lifecycles for coaches, GMs, management—everyone—is very short.
Is it fair to say the years you spent with the Blues, and all that you endured, shaped how the latter half of your career unfolded?
I’m a firm believer that everything happens for a reason. My time in St. Louis helped prepare me for Edmonton. My time in Edmonton helped prepare me for Anaheim, and my time in Anaheim helped prepare me for Philadelphia. All of those moments are incredibly important to who I was, who I became, and how I led. We continue to evolve, adapt, and grow constantly. I always told people that the moment I stop learning on the ice—the moment my game stops evolving and I stop getting better—is the moment I need to retire. Everybody else is getting better. If I’m not improving, whether that’s on the ice or as a leader, then it’s time to hang them up.
The book feels like it is as much about helping people become the best versions of themselves as it is a look back at your career. Whether it’s a young hockey player or someone in the middle of a career outside of sports, what are the things you hope they take away from your journey?
You need to bet on yourself. You need to own the fact that it’s your life and your path. You can’t be afraid to fail. But you also have to recognize that you’re going to make mistakes. We all do. I’ve made some doozies. Own them. Learn from them and move on. That goes for whether it’s sports, life, business—whatever. Too often, I think we get scared to make mistakes and feel paralyzed. But you’ve got to take advantage of your opportunities. You do that by being prepared, being the hardest worker in the room, and getting away from any sort of victim mentality. Ask yourself: How badly do I want to achieve this? What am I willing to sacrifice? How dedicated am I? It’s easy to quit. But can you take the hard path of not quitting, of pushing through and finding a way after you fail? Being able to do that, I think, speaks volumes to me.
