At the age of 29, Kurtis Gabriel died for the first time.
After bouncing between three teams in six years, Gabriel was over the moon, signing his first one-way contract with his hometown Toronto Maple Leafs. He then went on to have the best training camp of his NHL career, only to be sent down to the AHL.
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One year later, following a trade to the Chicago Blackhawks, he was forced to retire from the game of hockey after years of wrist injuries.
“My head imploded; I experienced some kind of death there,” he said. “I just got sucked so far into fear and this illusion that I’m a nobody now and I have no way to live a happy life.”
Photo credit: Kurtis Gabriel
It took a while, but four years removed from retirement, Gabriel has found his peace. Now, his days are filled with meditation, creating content and taking care of his mother’s Australian Shepherd, Piper.
But it wasn’t a straight path for Gabriel, who says his ego was directly tied to his identity as a hockey player — and not simply a hockey player, but a bruising, physical enforcer. In turn, his character reflected the rigid ideals reinforced by hockey culture.
Gabriel spoke openly about some of the more disturbing aspects of hockey culture in Rick Westhead’s book “We Breed Lions: Confronting Canada’s Troubled Hockey Culture.” He told Westhead that, with the Iowa Wild, players would take a lap at the end of practice to celebrate a sexual conquest, performing different actions such as skating backwards or taking their helmet off depending on the race of the woman.
“Honestly, when I was playing, I went and did the lap. I thought it was hilarious,” Gabriel said. “Did I feel this weird thing in my chest, like, would my mom like to see this? For sure, but I was one of the guys; I was a product of my environment, and I definitely leaned into that environment.”
“I think we have to educate and have players speak out about these stories,” he said.
Almost a decade later, Gabriel’s perception of masculinity has transformed.
“Back then, masculinity to me was like Bob Probert, the guy who could get any girl he wanted; he could do any drug. He’s the life of the party; he’ll beat you up; he’ll score — he could do it all,” Gabriel said. “Now, masculinity to me is being so in touch with your feminine side that you don’t give a s—. A grounded masculine man is someone who is balanced and vulnerable, and that’s what truly makes him strong.”
Gabriel was, at one point, the epitome of an enforcer. Standing at 6-foot-4 and 215 pounds, he spent most of his career physically intimidating his opponents, recording 153 penalty minutes in only 51 career NHL games.
While fighting was a foundation of his NHL career, it wasn’t always the path Gabriel envisioned for himself in hockey. Early on in his career, he chose to fight not because he wanted to, but because he wanted to prove one person wrong: his father, who took his life when Gabriel was 10.
Photo Credit: Kurtis Gabriel
“I thought it was a choice to take your own life. I thought it was a soft way out of life,” he said. “I don’t think I would have done that [fight] if he was still around. I would have lived a much more nonviolent life, but when you’re trying to prove to your cool father who you think chose to abandon you, you’re trying to show that he should have stuck around by making it to a very rare level of sport.”
Photo credit: Kurtis Gabriel
The first 13 months after his retirement marked a transition for Gabriel — from hockey player to human. After dropping the gloves with some of the toughest athletes in the world, he described sitting down with his thoughts as the most terrifying fight of his life.
“That voice in my head was terrifying. It was saying to me, ‘You’re not good enough. Your dad left, and you’re soft like him.’ All our minds cave in on us,” Gabriel said. “We are so scared to face ourselves, and it is a wild thing to do. But as you do it, you start to realize that you are not those thoughts, and that’s why it’s the hardest thing to do. Physical pain is one thing; psychological pain is on a whole other level.”
Now, Gabriel spends most of his time working on his training program, The Next Arena, which launches in October. He describes it as a community, “For athletes and anyone going through transition big or small.” In addition, he creates social media content about mindfulness, his personal journey and the occasional hockey post.
He also created a podcast titled The Fight Plan, focused on fights on the ice, but, more importantly, the fights in life.
In October 2025, he founded a “spiritual community,” Collective Memoria, which he describes as “a place for people to come together to remember who we all are.”
Front and center on his page are the words, ‘community of remembrance.’ Gabriel says the goal of his page and its corresponding community is simple.
“It’s a community of people helping each other remember the peace and happiness we all seek,” he said. “The happiness you’re seeking is not out there; it’ll only be found within yourself.”
Gabriel’s most challenging project post-retirement has been his memoir, which he calls the most transformative journey of his life. The memoir was originally supposed to release earlier this year, but has since been stripped of an official release date.
After suiting up for the Wild, New Jersey Devils, San Jose Sharks and Blackhawks during his career, Gabriel doesn’t want to be remembered donning a particular jersey. In fact, he doesn’t want to be remembered as a hockey player at all.
“I hope that I’m remembered as someone who truly sought his own happiness so seriously, so profoundly, that it freed him. Someone who just shone the light through him as much as possible, becoming a safe space for others to do the same.”
