People really should devote more time to appreciating hockey. I’ve wondered a little as to why the NHL has slipped in popularity amongst American sports fans, but don’t really dwell on the concepts because I want to enjoy the game.

But if I had to break it down to something basic, I’d probably lay my hat on this: No marketable stars.

There’s no one in the NHL to make a “Pro Stars” cartoon reboot possible right now. And how awesome would a new “Pro Stars” be? Kids today are getting robbed.

Marketability is a steep road with a lot of diverging paths, though. The most important thing, obviously, is talent. Not just ordinary talent, but an inimitable player who represents everything a league aspires to convey. (Think: Peyton Manning, Derek Jeter, Kobe Bryant and LeBron James.) The NHL had that with Wayne Gretzky.

Once irrefutable talent is established and recognized, accessibility to the American public has to be tangible. How does this athlete connect with American audiences?

Capitals star winger Alex Ovechkin has the flair and grace to be this generation’s Gretzky on the ice. That goes double for the Penguins’ Sidney Crosby, who’s a bit more accessible than Ovechkin because he’s Canadian. Sadly, talent doesn’t cross boundaries alone. As ignorant as it sounds, the reality is that its easier to commandeer commercial breaks like Peyton Manning does without a Russian accent.

All that said, if you’re not watching the Vancouver Canucks and Boston Bruins matchup in the 2011 Stanley Cup Finals, then you’re missing something exciting. You don’t need to be a hockey fan to appreciate great action and competition.

The Canucks are the favorite to win it but, if Vancouver’s Game 1 victory is any indication of things to come, it won’t be easy. Finding the net for the game-winning score with fewer than 20 seconds remaining in regulation is every bit of drama a sports fan desires.

If it was Game 7, Hollywood would bid for the movie rights, is what I’m saying.

Oh, and did you guys know that fist fights are allowed? Seriously, man, watch hockey.

The Canucks are one game closer to winning their first Stanley Cup in franchise history. MyFitteds.com can hold you down if you want to commemorate anything of note within the first 40 years.

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Shaquille O’Neal announced his retirement on Wednesday via Twitter with a video and an endearing smile — and the expected news hit me harder than I could have imagined.

There weren’t any assumptions that Shaq Diesel had another year of even half-decent basketball in him. Those thoughts were wiped away when Miami traded him to Phoenix in Feb. 2008. The writing was on the wall after his stint in Cleveland, but Boston ignored it, signing Shaq to a two-year deal good enough for about 37 games.

O’Neal was at the point where full seasons were impossible, but 30 games and a postseason for 10-15 minutes of action seemed feasible. The glory days were long gone, and that was fine. I was loaded with enough Shaq memories to endure a lifetime, all spanning a career that went from ferocious and dominant competitor to fun-loving dance machine.

But yesterday, my emotions flared up unexpectedly. I couldn’t really explain why until I sat down to write this. I grew up with Shaq’s 19-year career. He was a constant in my growth from innocent, starry-eyed eight-year-old kid to … less-innocent, starry-eyed 27-year-old writer.

To be honest, I was angry with Shaq for a long time. He sparked an unreasonable hatred within me for basketball. I was a jaded 12-year-old Magic fan who had no perspective on the business of sports. But his departure from Orlando to Los Angeles was more agonizing than the 1995 Finals sweep effortlessly administered by the Houston Rockets.

Penny Hardaway was my favorite player, the Orlando Magic my favorite team — despite appreciating my hometown Knicks — and Shaq Diesel was building his case for the “Greatest Big Man of All Time” debate. The Shaq-to-the-Lakers rumors swirled for months before it happened, and I refused to believe them. My father warned me, too, citing athlete selfishness and greed. I didn’t want to believe him, either, failing to realize he’d already experienced the jaded sports fan rage I’d soon feel.

See, as far as I was concerned, Shaq and Penny were already the duo Shaq and Kobe became. And I’m convinced that the Lakers’ Shaq-Kobe duo never scratched the surface of what a healthy Hardaway would’ve been with O’Neal in Orlando.

I’ll even argue that the injuries that plagued Penny’s promising career would’ve been avoided if he and Shaq split the weight of carrying a young franchise.

After Shaq made his move, I continued watching basketball, but with much less conviction. Michael Jordan’s first full season back in Chicago made things fun for a while, but I hate having to imagine how difficult Chicago’s second three-peat would have been if Orlando continued progressing around Penny and Shaq.

I moved on, though. Growing to understand sports and how players spurn towns and fans helped me fuse those jaded pieces of me into a fairly solid wall. It’s why I want Cleveland to get over LeBron James already. What I’m left with now is unfiltered appreciation and admiration for undeniable talent.

Shaq delivered that consistently, and with plenty of charisma. I don’t maintain a rosy outlook about Shaq’s personality. From what I understand, he’s just as vindictive as he is personable. But so was Jordan (lest you forget his Hall of Fame speech). That’s the duality of being a sincere man. If you’re only one thing, then you’re doing it wrong.

Now, I care only about what Shaq did well, and how entertaining he was in the process. Even in Steel.

Enjoy retirement, Shaq. And thank you for “Biological Didn’t Bother.” You weren’t a good rapper, but the sentiment resonated deeply for those of us who relate.

What I love most about the Magic logo is that even when subtle and simpliefied, it’s unmistakable. Not a lot of teams can get away with keeping the team name and city off a fitted and still keep their identity. Venture to CraniumFitteds.com for this Orlando fitted in traditional team colors.

*****

Angel Navedo is a New York-based sports writer with a tendency to inject sarcasm into his conversational prose. He enjoys fitted hats, sneakers, video games, and Vin Diesel movies. You can learn more about him at thatsangel.com, or follow him on Twitter because that’s what people do now.