On my first road trip to Chicago I went with my teammates to this men’s fashion joint called Zegna, which I thought was pronounced Zeg-na (it’s Zeh-nyah — Italian). I found a pair of pants I wanted to buy, and the nice saleslady told me I owed $750.00. I thought she meant $75.00, but no, she did not, and this was not the kind of place where you bargained. I was too choked to ask the guys if we could go to Banana Republic so I could buy what I could afford, and more importantly, what I wanted. So I paid more than 5 percent of my first NHL paycheck on a pair of pants.

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