Beginning at the End

As I recently made my second trip of the day from my office in Markham to the Powerade Centre in Brampton (approximately 30 minutes on the highway) to see my youngest play in the Barrie Sharks' second game in the Ontario Women's Hockey Association Peewee BB Provincial Championships (even typing that was exhausting); it occurred to me that I need to start documenting this major component of my life...my life as a hockey dad. When my relatively new colleague found out about my trips back and forth to the rink he said "Man you are hardcore", which added fuel to the fire.

This is something I probably should have started doing a long time ago both for its cathartic effect to counter the mental fatigue of being a hockey parent and to leverage a personal, but thus far untapped, passion for writing. I do not think it would be much of an exaggeration to suggest that I spend at least half of my waking hours on my way to or in a hockey rink. As a software salesperson, I often quip to whoever will listen that I can generally be found in one of three places; at home, at work or at a rink. I am still working on finding a way to get someone to pay me for watching my kids play hockey.

I in no way think my situation is unique, as I look around at the thousands of other parents who join me on the roads and in the arenas 5-7 days a week from September to May. I can not fathom how parents with the last name Sutter or Staal have survived physically, mentally or financially with four or more children playing at a competitive level - much less having them all make it to the NHL. I also have no illusions of seeing my kids make it to the show. I simply value the social and character building aspects of hockey and sports in general. Having my kids play hockey is a way of keeping them out of the malls and mostly out of teenage trouble (he says with fingers firmly crossed).

My two kids, heretofore referred to as the Boy and the Devil, have both been playing hockey since they were about 4 years old. Over the last 10+ years I have coached, guided, anxiously watched and cheered them through learn to skate, house league and rep level hockey now entering Minor Midget and Bantam age groups. Both have a love for the game inherited from their father. I actually stopped playing hockey when I was 15 primarily because of my diminutive stature, but also because I found Canada's other favourite past-time, curling, to be much more lucrative. No one ever gave me a clock radio, ratchet set or cash for winning a hockey tournament. But I digress and did get back into playing hockey in my late 20s as I started to introduce the game to my kids.

The 2009/10 season has just ended with a flurry as we've been at end of year tournaments in Mississauga and Brampton (about an hour from home) for the last three weekends. This translates into 13 games over 7 days, but could have been 17 over 9 days. Yup that's a lot of hockey after 2 forty game schedules, practices as least twice a week for each kid and three other tournaments each thrown in for good measure. So now that the season is over we have a whole week to rest before the tryouts for next season's teams start. A whole new season with new teammates, new parents, new coaches and above all new experiences.

As I start with this chronicle, my plan is to diligently and honestly record the events of the next year. I will also recount some of the hundreds of stories my kids, their teammates, coaches, parents, officials and others have left etched in the recesses of my memory. This is the other reason I want my kids to play the game. Hockey is a microcosm of life with all of the trials, tribulations, victories, defeats, politics and everything in between. They are living the life lessons and building the memories that will bolster their development as active members of society.

When I mentioned to the Boy that I was thinking of doing this he immediately started retelling one of his personal favourites...so why don't I start there. About three years ago we were in a tournament somewhere southwest of Toronto. Admittedly, after a while all of these tournament locations start melding together. At this particular tournament, our boys (Minor Peewee, I believe) had not played to their potential, but had made it to the semi-finals by the skin of their collective teeth.

In the semi-final game against an arch rival from East Gwillumbury the game was tied 2-2 at the end of regulation time. The format for breaking a tie was to be a 5 minute overtime of 5 on 5 hockey followed by 4 minutes of 4 on 4, 3 minutes of 3 on 3, 2 minute of 2 on 2 and yes, even 1 minute of 1 on 1 should it come to that. As it turns out we would be in a tournament with a similar format a couple of years later, but that is another story.

In this particular tournament, we went down to 3 on 3 for three minutes, but the Boy's team took a penalty so it would be 3 on 2. After a timeout, the Boy and a teammate stepped on the ice as our two representatives. I recall not quietly saying "Get my kid off the ice!" for fear of seeing him at least partially responsible for a potential loss. The teammate's father was standing right next to me and rolled his eyes in sympathetic agreement.

As luck would have it, the opposite turned out to be true. After winning a face-off at centre ice, three East Gwillumbury players charged hard into our zone, but the Boy somehow intercepted a pass and immediately went on the offensive. As his teammate darted forward he slipped a pass ahead and sent his teammate on a breakaway. His teammate made a fantastic deke leaving the goalie helpless and placed the puck in the back of the net. The teammates father and I high-fived and maybe even momentarily embraced in a combination of triumph and relief for our boys.

To be honest, I'm not sure how the Boy's team fared in the Finals of that tournament and in retrospect it really doesn't matter. That one shining moment is the memory the Boy can recall in a heartbeat that will last well beyond any trophy or medal won or lost. And I've only just begun.

imahockeydad