What's the point of star players as team presidents?

There are not many walks of life in which a president is removed from office and not replaced, unless it involves a coup or a civil war.

And yet, the end of Brendan Shanahan's 11-year run at the helm of the Toronto Maple Leafs last week was followed by the news that his duties would be taken over by no one in particular.

Had MLSE developed a droid to carry out his functions? Would someone in the executive suites ask ChatGPT to evaluate potential trades? No. Instead, Keith Pelley, the Maple Leaf Sports and Entertainment boss who is just into his second year on the job, said he would deal with general manager Brad Treliving and coach Craig Berube more directly.

It was an indirect indictment of Shanahan's day-to-day responsibilities that they could be absorbed by someone who already had a full-time job. But it also illustrated something that is unique to professional sports. In what other business is the person at the very top of the organizational chart sometimes hired into that role with almost no relevant experience?

Shanahan had never been in hockey management before taking over his hometown Leafs. He had a Hall of Fame playing career and spent some time in the NHL's front office, but in Toronto, he learned on the job while also leading the entire operation. He brought in Lou Lamoriello, the longtime Devils executive, as a mentor of sorts and had Mark Hunter, the successful junior hockey executive, to help on the scouting side; both men eventually left after Shanahan had gained some experience.

It remains unclear what drove former MLSE boss Tim Leiweke to hire Shanahan other than the fact that he's a respected Hockey Guy. But sometimes, with former players, that's all that's required on the resume.

The Vancouver Canucks brought in Trevor Linden to lead their franchise in 2014 after the team had missed the playoffs for the first time in five seasons. The job interview must have been interesting.

"What are your qualifications for the job?"

"I am a Canucks legend."

"Any management experience?"

"No."

"Great. See you Monday."

Linden was evidently empowered to make changes, firing coach John Tortorella not long after taking the job and bringing in his former teammate, Jim Benning, to be the general manager.

It was not a rousing success. Linden departed four years later with the Canucks having made one postseason appearance in which they won two games.

There are countless examples of former players who become successful executives, but they usually follow a familiar pattern: a couple of seasons in a front office in some capacity, then a move to take over a team's hockey operations. What remains unusual is the Linden-Shanahan path of going straight to the top. What kind of business puts a neophyte in charge of everything? (Nepotism examples are obviously excluded.)

Even Cam Neely, perhaps the best current example of a franchise legend turned president, spent a few seasons in the Boston Bruins' front office before he was handed the top job.

Neely won the Stanley Cup in his first season with the team he inherited and has had the good sense to mostly keep the operation ticking along. He's had just two general managers in 15 seasons - he replaced Peter Chiarelli with Don Sweeney - and his only losing season was the one just completed.

That's where the question of exactly what a team president does gets interesting. The Bruins were a playoff team when Neely took over, and he didn't have to make a big call until firing Chiarelli after five seasons. If ever there was an example of a franchise that could manage with a relatively inexperienced guy at the top, it was probably those Bruins.

And now, after so much success while in charge, Neely faces what counts as his first real crisis. Does he replace Sweeney after the Bruins finished last in their division and were sellers at the trade deadline? Ironically, Neely, after 15 seasons, now has to do the kind of thing that hockey executives are usually tasked with doing when they first take over a team - build from a position of weakness.

It's worth pointing out that hockey is not the only sport where franchise icons are sometimes parachuted straight to the top office. John Elway had a successful stint running the Denver Broncos, and Magic Johnson was briefly team president of the Los Angeles Lakers, a tenure that included landing LeBron James in free agency. But in both cases, the main goal in making them executives appeared to be putting someone in charge of a struggling team who would be less likely to be yelled at by the fan base.

And sometimes that's all that's needed. The Pittsburgh Penguins, for example, haven't won a playoff series for seven seasons.

Jaromir Jagr, your suit and tie are calling.

Scott Stinson is a contributing writer for theScore.