Hurricanes coach Rod Brind’Amour sets priorities before Game 7 against the Bruins

The swish-swash of Rod Brind’Amour’s wind pants and jacket echoed off the concrete walls to the beat of his distinct gait as he lumbered down the arena-level hallway in PNC Arena on Friday.

Some of the Carolina Hurricanes skaters remained behind on the ice to work on individual drills, but the head coach’s work with the team — on the ice, at least — was done for the day.

Brind’Amour sidled up to the podium. He appeared … taller.

His demeanor and cadence were consistent with his many previous meetings with the media: stoic yet conversational, polite and soft spoken.

The questions — and Brind’Amour’s answers — ran the gamut from mundane to insightful. If you didn’t know better, you might have thought Saturday’s Game 7 against the Boston Bruins was instead a random Thursday game in November.

In some ways, Brind’Amour said, it really is.

“At the end of the day, it’s a game, you have to play your best,” he said.

But, he added, there’s a heightened finality.

“There’s nothing different in the game, it’s just, obviously if you don’t win it, you’re done,” Brind’Amour said. “But nothing changes. Preparation is the same, just everything matters that much more.”

Preceding Brind’Amour to the podium Friday was goaltender Antti Raanta. Following him was Andrei Svechnikov, who dubbed Saturday’s festivities “Saturday in Raleighwood” to a round of laughter. The whole parade took less than 20 minutes.

As Brind’Amour left his portion of the availability, an added sound, audible before but unplaced, joined the echoes.

Clomp. Clomp.

“Wait, was he still wearing skates?”

Eagle-eyed reporters miss nothing. That’s why he seemed taller.

Maybe he was in a hurry to finish his media responsibilities to go study film, or talk power-play strategy, or maybe have lunch.

He was gone by that point though, so no more questions.

But the answer was: None of the above.

The room emptied, one by one, people filtering out of the arena and into the bright sunshine outdoors, a solid spring day by most measures.

On the way out of the building, another familiar sound: Clack-clack-ping!

Stick hitting ice, blade thwacking puck, puck striking iron. Someone was getting extra work in on PNC Arena ice, and with no one else in a building designed to hold 20,000 people, even with rally towels already draped across every seat in the house, the echoes were spectacular.

Clack-clack-silence — the puck hit the netting of the goal cage and fell with a dull thwack into the blue paint.

The busy shooters? Skyler and Brooks Brind’Amour, the coach’s sons, drilling each other under the watchful eye of their father.

Never mind the age gap — Skyler is 22, a 2017 NHL draft pick by the Edmonton Oilers who just finished playing at Quinnipiac University, and Brooks is 10, a 2011-born member of the Junior Canes program — the brothers, under the watchful eye of their father, ran the same drills. Quick passes to two points with quick lateral movements and crossovers in between, followed by a pass along the boards and a quick move toward the net with a finishing shot past an imaginary goaltender.

That explains the skates during the news conference.

It also explains a whole lot more.

Here is the fourth-year head coach of the Carolina Hurricanes — a team on the eve of a Game 7 that, should they lose, would bring to an end a bitterly disappointing playoff run following the best regular season in franchise history — on the ice not with his power-play unit, but with his family unit.

Priorities.

And, perhaps, Brind’Amour’s method of keeping things in perspective. Remember, he did start to say Game 7, “At the end of the day, it’s a game,” before adding later, “everything matters that much more.”

It’s that perspective everyone needs now and again, some more than others.

As Brind’Amour rimmed pucks along the boards to his sons, he barked instructions, using his stick to point to locations on the ice where each skater should be. He was effusive in his praise of young Brooks, who on one pass toward the net finished with a stick-between-the-legs wrister to the top corner. He was equally supportive of Skyler, who missed a few in a row from point blank range and was getting audibly frustrated. (It appears the passion for perfection is an easily-passed genetic trait.)

Much like he’d been in practice earlier in the afternoon, Brind’Amour was firm in direction, and supportive in correction.

There are some who will look at what was happening on the day before one of the biggest games in the franchise’s recent rebirth and feel like Brind’Amour was being too callous, too nonchalant, perhaps too confident knowing Game 7 is at home, where the team had yet to lose this postseason.

He should be reviewing video, right? Searching for a way to stop Boston’s suddenly potent power play? Figuring out his matchups?

Some coaches would. Some wouldn’t sleep. Others would gnaw their way through four packs of gum while sullying white board after white board.

Some might even work on a pregame speech. But, as Brind’Amour wryly said during his availability, “I don’t have to say too much. You don’t have to say much this time of year.”

It’s a balance that creates a levelheadedness that permeates the locker room. It’s part of what makes Brind’Amour so different from his predecessors, and what helps him relate so well to his players. Yes, his job is important, and it requires commitment well beyond normal working hours. But that’s not all there is to life.

Skyler and Brooks? That pair is a far greater raison d’être than coaching in the NHL, so much so that there’s a sense that, if he ever left his job with the Hurricanes (or was asked to leave), he’d probably be done coaching at the top level altogether. After his trade to Raleigh from Philadelphia during the 1999-2000 season, Brind’Amour put down roots here. He played out his career here. He won a Stanley Cup here. And he’s raising a family here.

Saturday afternoon, the sounds in the rink would be far different: Click-clack-ping or click-clack-silence replaced by bodies smacking, skates crunching, horns and sirens sounding, fans roaring.

But on Friday, while Hurricanes players cooled down after an off-day practice, foraged for lunch, broke down video assignments or received treatments from team therapists, Brind’Amour fulfilled his media obligations and casually returned to the ice for some family R&R, a moment of balance amid a cacophony of hockey-related distractions.

As the doors clicked closed behind the final members of the media to leave on this day, the clack-clack-thuds faded into the background.