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Lessons Learned – Part Deux

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We were able to all sleep in some on Saturday morning; if you consider 7:30am after hitting the hay at 2:00am sleeping in. Some fathers simply did not apply the lessons they had learned the previous mornings.

Following the now traditional breakfast buffet, the boys had a quick team meeting before loading their gear back into the bus, which would take us all to their first of two games against local counterparts in Oswego.

When we arrived at the arena, which we were warned would be a cold old barn, a couple of fathers astutely noticed a few things.

First off, the blackboard announcing the dressing room assignments indicated Oswego was in Room 1 and Canada..not a town, city or province, but representatives of the entire country, was in Room 2. Our coaches were told to let the team know the hopes and dreams of the nation’s hockey fans were resting on their shoulders.  And so the stereotypical notion that Americans lack basic geographical knowledge continued in tact.  If this team are ever to visit us back home we will be sure to label their room, “The Contiguous United States of America”. But I digress.

We then noticed that at least two of the players on the opposing team drove themselves to the game in what were apparently their own vehicles. Note – our Minor Midget team still has some players who have yet to celebrate their 15th birthday.  We all started wondering about the make-up of the “under 16” team our boys had been scheduled to play.  Some wondered if the local laws allowed 15 year old drivers or if there were indeed some 16 year olds on the team; there were certainly some large players…who drove their own vehicles to the rink.

Once the boys hit the ice the trepidation subsided as there was an ample mix of big and small players on the home side. We had obviously only paid attention to the former group on their way into the arena.  The boys and we would then find out that player size did not translate into player skill or speed.   The visiting Canadians came out quick and dominated the play for the most part, scoring first but then giving up a goal to finish the first period knotted at ones.  The second and third periods were similar in tone, though signs of frustration started to show on the home side as they took a few unnecessary penalties.

One thing our boys did have to get used to was an automatic offside call, which was reinstated in the U.S. some time ago. They were caught a couple of times trying to simply dump the puck over the blue line as they are accustomed to doing north of the 49th parallel; but soon adapted. I recall the Boy’s team encountering the same at a tournament in New York last year and taking quite a bit longer to adjust. 

At the end of the first cross border clash the scoreboard read Visitors (i.e. Canada) 5 – Home (Oswego) 1.

Victorious the team bus pointed itself towards nearby fast food joints where fathers and sons alike loaded up on meals, combos and super-sized sodas (that American for pop).  Back at the hotel the boys were given some free time to swim or find other distractions before we headed to the SUNY Oswego hockey game that night. Several fathers used this time to catch up on their poker.

The hockey game we were going to at the University was billed as an exhibition between the SUNY Osewego Lakers and an “All Star” team from an “Outlaw Tier 3 Junior A League” from our region up in Canada.

The Oswego team had a couple of cuts to make in their pre-season which had only begun the night before. The NCAA has some stringent rules on when you are allowed to practice and the team had literally started at midnight before we arrived then practiced again at 5am that same early morning.

We would quickly find out that an all-star Tier 3 Junior A team is no match for a perennial NCAA Division 3 finalist.  When we walked into the rink, a couple of minutes into the game, it was already 1-0 and the fans were raucous to say the least.  Perhaps the most memorable part of the whole weekend for me was the atmosphere in that building and the antics of the fans who were among the most passionate hockey fans I have ever seen.  I suppose mixing university student pride with hockey can have that affect.  The fan pointed and chanted emphatically “It’s All Your Fault!” and “Die Die Die…You Suck!” at the beleaguered opposition goaltender every time a goal was scored by their beloved Lakers. If a penalty was taken by a player on the visiting team he would be escorted to the sin bin with the chant “Ahhhhh, sit your ass down bitch!” On this night, the fans would have plenty to chant about as the Lakers skated to an almost embarrassing 17-0 win. Shots on goal favoured the Lakers 76?-14, with 12 of the “all stars” shots coming from outside the blue line. In short, this was no contest.  

You couldn’t blame the Oswego players for running up the score as some of them were fighting for one of a couple of spots on the team.  And you couldn’t blame the fans who were attending their first game of the year. They had no doubt pent up an off-season’s worth of anticipation just waiting to burst forth.

From a hockey perspective, it wasn’t much of contest, but for pure atmosphere and entertainment value it was well worth the $7 ticket price.  Having attended this game, I would love to have been at any of the playoff games that have been played in that rink over the last several years; and particularly for a 4-3 overtime win in the championship final back in 2007. It must have been pure bedlam. The players on the ice must draw pure adrenalin from a crowd like that. The experience has stuck with our boys too; who were heard chanting “Ahhhh, sit your ass down bitch!” at one of their opponents in their first regular season game back in Canada.

The post-game trip back to the hotel was relatively quiet as was the night in the hotel as it seemed the previous nights finally caught up with us. There were some pizzas ordered, cuz boys are forever hungry and arena food just didn’t cut it, but most hit the hay in preparation for the rematch with the “under 16” team.

Game two, against who we eventually found out was actually a midget team comprised of players aged 14-17, was similar to game one. The boys dominated. They built a 5-1 lead by the end of the second period. Team Canada was the recipient of several powerplay opportunities cued by Oswego frustration in the third period. The coaches reported the referees actually asked them if they wanted to work on 5 on 4 or 5 on 3 situations. The invaders from the north finished with a 9-1 win over the home team. They had represented Canada well.

It was time to pack up, pick up 17 pre-ordered Little Caesar pizzas and start the six hour journey back to anxiously waiting moms. It was a quiet ride home.  Bleary eyed they had left and now bleary eyed they would return.  

A well organized four days provided our young men with many solid life/sport lessons and memories, which for some, may last a lifetime. Many of those memories may have nothing to do with hockey. That’s just fine. As always, hockey simply provides the backdrop upon which these lessons can be laid, interpreted and applied to the benefit of the learners. Commitment, dedication, team work, loyalty, perseverance, education and respect were prevalent themes of the weekend.  The members of this team should certainly be thankful for the opportunity they were given.  I’m quite certain they increasingly will be as they encounter new situations in their evolving student careers and lives where the lessons learned can be brought to bear.

#imahockeydad

Lessons Learned – Part Deux

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We were able to all sleep in some on Saturday morning; if you consider 7:30am after hitting the hay at 2:00am sleeping in. Some fathers simply did not apply the lessons they had learned the previous mornings.

Following the now traditional breakfast buffet, the boys had a quick team meeting before loading their gear back into the bus, which would take us all to their first of two games against local counterparts in Oswego.

When we arrived at the arena, which we were warned would be a cold old barn, a couple of fathers astutely noticed a few things.

First off, the blackboard announcing the dressing room assignments indicated Oswego was in Room 1 and Canada..not a town, city or province, but representatives of the entire country, was in Room 2. Our coaches were told to let the team know the hopes and dreams of the nation’s hockey fans were resting on their shoulders.  And so the stereotypical notion that Americans lack basic geographical knowledge continued in tact.  If this team are ever to visit us back home we will be sure to label their room, “The Contiguous United States of America”. But I digress.

We then noticed that at least two of the players on the opposing team drove themselves to the game in what were apparently their own vehicles. Note – our Minor Midget team still has some players who have yet to celebrate their 15th birthday.  We all started wondering about the make-up of the “under 16” team our boys had been scheduled to play.  Some wondered if the local laws allowed 15 year old drivers or if there were indeed some 16 year olds on the team; there were certainly some large players…who drove their own vehicles to the rink.

Once the boys hit the ice the trepidation subsided as there was an ample mix of big and small players on the home side. We had obviously only paid attention to the former group on their way into the arena.  The boys and we would then find out that player size did not translate into player skill or speed.   The visiting Canadians came out quick and dominated the play for the most part, scoring first but then giving up a goal to finish the first period knotted at ones.  The second and third periods were similar in tone, though signs of frustration started to show on the home side as they took a few unnecessary penalties.

One thing our boys did have to get used to was an automatic offside call, which was reinstated in the U.S. some time ago. They were caught a couple of times trying to simply dump the puck over the blue line as they are accustomed to doing north of the 49th parallel; but soon adapted. I recall the Boy’s team encountering the same at a tournament in New York last year and taking quite a bit longer to adjust. 

At the end of the first cross border clash the scoreboard read Visitors (i.e. Canada) 5 – Home (Oswego) 1.

Victorious the team bus pointed itself towards nearby fast food joints where fathers and sons alike loaded up on meals, combos and super-sized sodas (that American for pop).  Back at the hotel the boys were given some free time to swim or find other distractions before we headed to the SUNY Oswego hockey game that night. Several fathers used this time to catch up on their poker.

The hockey game we were going to at the University was billed as an exhibition between the SUNY Osewego Lakers and an “All Star” team from an “Outlaw Tier 3 Junior A League” from our region up in Canada.

The Oswego team had a couple of cuts to make in their pre-season which had only begun the night before. The NCAA has some stringent rules on when you are allowed to practice and the team had literally started at midnight before we arrived then practiced again at 5am that same early morning.

We would quickly find out that an all-star Tier 3 Junior A team is no match for a perennial NCAA Division 3 finalist.  When we walked into the rink, a couple of minutes into the game, it was already 1-0 and the fans were raucous to say the least.  Perhaps the most memorable part of the whole weekend for me was the atmosphere in that building and the antics of the fans who were among the most passionate hockey fans I have ever seen.  I suppose mixing university student pride with hockey can have that affect.  The fan pointed and chanted emphatically “It’s All Your Fault!” and “Die Die Die…You Suck!” at the beleaguered opposition goaltender every time a goal was scored by their beloved Lakers. If a penalty was taken by a player on the visiting team he would be escorted to the sin bin with the chant “Ahhhhh, sit your ass down bitch!” On this night, the fans would have plenty to chant about as the Lakers skated to an almost embarrassing 17-0 win. Shots on goal favoured the Lakers 76?-14, with 12 of the “all stars” shots coming from outside the blue line. In short, this was no contest.  

You couldn’t blame the Oswego players for running up the score as some of them were fighting for one of a couple of spots on the team.  And you couldn’t blame the fans who were attending their first game of the year. They had no doubt pent up an off-season’s worth of anticipation just waiting to burst forth.

From a hockey perspective, it wasn’t much of contest, but for pure atmosphere and entertainment value it was well worth the $7 ticket price.  Having attended this game, I would love to have been at any of the playoff games that have been played in that rink over the last several years; and particularly for a 4-3 overtime win in the championship final back in 2007. It must have been pure bedlam. The players on the ice must draw pure adrenalin from a crowd like that. The experience has stuck with our boys too; who were heard chanting “Ahhhh, sit your ass down bitch!” at one of their opponents in their first regular season game back in Canada.

The post-game trip back to the hotel was relatively quiet as was the night in the hotel as it seemed the previous nights finally caught up with us. There were some pizzas ordered, cuz boys are forever hungry and arena food just didn’t cut it, but most hit the hay in preparation for the rematch with the “under 16” team.

Game two, against who we eventually found out was actually a midget team comprised of players aged 14-17, was similar to game one. The boys dominated. They built a 5-1 lead by the end of the second period. Team Canada was the recipient of several powerplay opportunities cued by Oswego frustration in the third period. The coaches reported the referees actually asked them if they wanted to work on 5 on 4 or 5 on 3 situations. The invaders from the north finished with a 9-1 win over the home team. They had represented Canada well.

It was time to pack up, pick up 17 pre-ordered Little Caesar pizzas and start the six hour journey back to anxiously waiting moms. It was a quiet ride home.  Bleary eyed they had left and now bleary eyed they would return.  

A well organized four days provided our young men with many solid life/sport lessons and memories, which for some, may last a lifetime. Many of those memories may have nothing to do with hockey. That’s just fine. As always, hockey simply provides the backdrop upon which these lessons can be laid, interpreted and applied to the benefit of the learners. Commitment, dedication, team work, loyalty, perseverance, education and respect were prevalent themes of the weekend.  The members of this team should certainly be thankful for the opportunity they were given.  I’m quite certain they increasingly will be as they encounter new situations in their evolving student careers and lives where the lessons learned can be brought to bear.

#imahockeydad

Cmon Stripes

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Now I don’t want to sound like a whiner, but there has been the odd occasion when I’ve disagreed with a call or calls made by a ref in a game.  From time to time, I have questioned, admittedly out loud, the abilities of certain officials. I will even admit to taking some pleasure in yelling a particularly witty remark following a questionable penalty or missed call.  Hockey mom most often lowers her gaze in feigned embarrassment; though I think she’s used to my comments.  Rarely are they lobbed with any real malice.  But at least a couple of times I’ve wished that I was the best friend of a ref so I could ask him or her after a game what they were thinking when they made what was an obviously incorrect call.

Refereeing is a critical part of the game.  Referees can certainly have an impact on the flow and tone of a game.  I would never outright blame a ref for a loss or praise a ref for a win; but their calls or non-calls can have a distinct effect on team morale and eventual outcomes.

These thoughts are rather fresh in my mind as last night I witnessed some questionable calls against the Boy’s team, including a fairly significant non-call on a tying goal against scored late in the game. The non-call in question occurred when the opposing team put a puck in the net after a scramble out front, which saw one of their players tied up with the goalie in the crease (a definite no-no for those non-hockey fans).  After the goal was scored the offending player actually looked deliberately, nay sheepishly, at the referee, assuming the goal would be disallowed; as did many other onlookers both on and off the ice. But no such call was made despite the pleading of the Boy’s coach. Earlier in the game the same ref made a couple of questionable penalty calls against the Boy’s team leaving them shorthanded. The game would end in a tie. The tie wasn’t completely attributable to the actions of the ref, but they certainly didn’t help.

Hockey is fast. I understand it’s often difficult to keep up.  Just ask Fox Sports who decided they needed to create a glowing puck a few years back so uneducated U.S. hockey fans could figure out where it was on the ice.  Hockey is probably the most difficult game to officiate.  I don’t expect or assume a ref will see every play or make every call.  I have, however, oft wondered about a ref’s eyesight, their perspective or a seeming lack thereof on those plays where the action is not frantic or the offense occurs directly in front of them.  Just like there are players who are strong and those who are weaker, the same is true of referees.  I’ve witnessed both as a fan in the stands and as coach on the bench.  

One of my favourite referees regularly officiated girls’ games a few years back who I met as an assistant coach on the bench.  He was an older gentleman who was in exceptional condition for his age and you could just tell took a great deal of pride in his work.  He always made a point of addressing and conversing with the coaching staff before a game.  In working with younger girls, he also made a point of getting down to their level when he made blew his whistle or made a particular call.  Post-game he would regularly comment on the quality of the game; indicating that he was truly involved and not just going through the motions.  On more than one occasion he made the wrong call and was either able to admit to the same after the fact or at least provide a reason for his actions. I haven’t seen this ref in a few years, most likely because as my kids have gotten older he has lost a step and realizes he is no longer able to effectively keep up with the speed of the game. 

Two years ago on the other hand, both the Boy and the Devil had regularly assigned referees in our hometown who were firmly in the latter bucket from a quality perspective ; referees who many would agree made consistently poor calls both for and against.   Before long we parents would ask each other before and after games if anyone was monitoring the quality of these referees. 

Hockey, as particularly older boy’s hockey, is physical game. Non-calls or inconsistent calls can sometimes lead to players getting overly aggressive with sticks, body checks or post-whistle scuffles.  Such was the case in one of the Boy’s games last year overseen by one of the aforementioned referees.  From the stands, we could all see the game bubbling to a fever pitch; but the head official seemed either ignorant or uninterested.  As the last shift of the game ended a scuffle in one of the corners erupted into an all out brawl. Thirteen and fourteen year old boys paired up throwing haymakers and uppercuts wildly as the referee stood idly by writing notes in a book he pulled from his pocket (we would later find out he was jotting down offending players’ numbers).  No one moved in to stop the melee for well over a minute.  Some would say this is all part of hockey, but this particular situation never would have or should have happened had the game been controlled by the official in the first place.

Some situations on the other hand are downright comical. When I was manning a door on the bench for one of the Devil’s games I made the mistake of emphatically pointing out what I felt was a blatantly missed off-side call by young referee.  As I was running the door, I pointed over the boards at the offending player on the other team and yelled “OFFSIDE”. The ref wheeled, looked at me with a distinct level of disgust, raised his arm and abruptly blew his whistle. He skated over and shouted “TWO MINUTES FOR GRABBING A PLAYER ON THE ICE.”  

I simply said, “Pardon me?”

“YOU HEARD ME.  YOU GET TWO FOR REACHING OUT AND GRABBING THAT PLAYER AS SHE SKATED BY.”

First off, I would never attempt such an idiotic move. Secondly, my arm would have needed to be at least 10 feet long for me to be able to reach the closest opposing player. Nonetheless, I was assessed a two minute bench minor for my apparent indiscretion.  In my further defence, if the official had made the call he intended I would have been assessed a game misconduct and a possible further two game suspension.  Either the ref didn’t know what he was calling or he simply wanted to punish me for calling out the off-side he missed. My guess is it was a little of both.  All of this being said, I am to this day, the infamous coach who grabbed a player from the ice; because that’s so like me.

Last, but certainly not least in the list of referee stories, is the seemingly happy go-lucky guy in stripes who officiated one of the Boy’s games during the holiday season.  The entire game we watched this ref waltzing around the ice, flipping the puck in the air like a circus juggler before each face-off and singing some rousing song or other to himself.  Post-game the Boy said the ref was chuckling at something and blurting out nonsense the whole game.  I determined, I believe correctly, that this particular official was under the influence of some foreign substance.  As such I labeled him “Mr. Happy”.  As we visit the same town from time to time we’ve seen him again, but he’s never been quite so animated as he was that game; thereby solidifying our suspicions.

In minor hockey, it’s important to keep in mind that most refs, like most players, are not NHL calibre and as such should all be given some leeway by fans, coaches and players.  Some referees receive too much abuse, while other bring it upon themselves.  Those officials who put forth their best efforts to make fair and accurate calls; those who strive to maintain a safe and positive environment for the players; are important participants in the game whose contributions should never be overlooked or under-appreciated.  

#imahockeydad

Cmon Stripes

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Now I don’t want to sound like a whiner, but there has been the odd occasion when I’ve disagreed with a call or calls made by a ref in a game.  From time to time, I have questioned, admittedly out loud, the abilities of certain officials. I will even admit to taking some pleasure in yelling a particularly witty remark following a questionable penalty or missed call.  Hockey mom most often lowers her gaze in feigned embarrassment; though I think she’s used to my comments.  Rarely are they lobbed with any real malice.  But at least a couple of times I’ve wished that I was the best friend of a ref so I could ask him or her after a game what they were thinking when they made what was an obviously incorrect call.

Refereeing is a critical part of the game.  Referees can certainly have an impact on the flow and tone of a game.  I would never outright blame a ref for a loss or praise a ref for a win; but their calls or non-calls can have a distinct effect on team morale and eventual outcomes.

These thoughts are rather fresh in my mind as last night I witnessed some questionable calls against the Boy’s team, including a fairly significant non-call on a tying goal against scored late in the game. The non-call in question occurred when the opposing team put a puck in the net after a scramble out front, which saw one of their players tied up with the goalie in the crease (a definite no-no for those non-hockey fans).  After the goal was scored the offending player actually looked deliberately, nay sheepishly, at the referee, assuming the goal would be disallowed; as did many other onlookers both on and off the ice. But no such call was made despite the pleading of the Boy’s coach. Earlier in the game the same ref made a couple of questionable penalty calls against the Boy’s team leaving them shorthanded. The game would end in a tie. The tie wasn’t completely attributable to the actions of the ref, but they certainly didn’t help.

Hockey is fast. I understand it’s often difficult to keep up.  Just ask Fox Sports who decided they needed to create a glowing puck a few years back so uneducated U.S. hockey fans could figure out where it was on the ice.  Hockey is probably the most difficult game to officiate.  I don’t expect or assume a ref will see every play or make every call.  I have, however, oft wondered about a ref’s eyesight, their perspective or a seeming lack thereof on those plays where the action is not frantic or the offense occurs directly in front of them.  Just like there are players who are strong and those who are weaker, the same is true of referees.  I’ve witnessed both as a fan in the stands and as coach on the bench.  

One of my favourite referees regularly officiated girls’ games a few years back who I met as an assistant coach on the bench.  He was an older gentleman who was in exceptional condition for his age and you could just tell took a great deal of pride in his work.  He always made a point of addressing and conversing with the coaching staff before a game.  In working with younger girls, he also made a point of getting down to their level when he made blew his whistle or made a particular call.  Post-game he would regularly comment on the quality of the game; indicating that he was truly involved and not just going through the motions.  On more than one occasion he made the wrong call and was either able to admit to the same after the fact or at least provide a reason for his actions. I haven’t seen this ref in a few years, most likely because as my kids have gotten older he has lost a step and realizes he is no longer able to effectively keep up with the speed of the game. 

Two years ago on the other hand, both the Boy and the Devil had regularly assigned referees in our hometown who were firmly in the latter bucket from a quality perspective ; referees who many would agree made consistently poor calls both for and against.   Before long we parents would ask each other before and after games if anyone was monitoring the quality of these referees. 

Hockey, as particularly older boy’s hockey, is physical game. Non-calls or inconsistent calls can sometimes lead to players getting overly aggressive with sticks, body checks or post-whistle scuffles.  Such was the case in one of the Boy’s games last year overseen by one of the aforementioned referees.  From the stands, we could all see the game bubbling to a fever pitch; but the head official seemed either ignorant or uninterested.  As the last shift of the game ended a scuffle in one of the corners erupted into an all out brawl. Thirteen and fourteen year old boys paired up throwing haymakers and uppercuts wildly as the referee stood idly by writing notes in a book he pulled from his pocket (we would later find out he was jotting down offending players’ numbers).  No one moved in to stop the melee for well over a minute.  Some would say this is all part of hockey, but this particular situation never would have or should have happened had the game been controlled by the official in the first place.

Some situations on the other hand are downright comical. When I was manning a door on the bench for one of the Devil’s games I made the mistake of emphatically pointing out what I felt was a blatantly missed off-side call by young referee.  As I was running the door, I pointed over the boards at the offending player on the other team and yelled “OFFSIDE”. The ref wheeled, looked at me with a distinct level of disgust, raised his arm and abruptly blew his whistle. He skated over and shouted “TWO MINUTES FOR GRABBING A PLAYER ON THE ICE.”  

I simply said, “Pardon me?”

“YOU HEARD ME.  YOU GET TWO FOR REACHING OUT AND GRABBING THAT PLAYER AS SHE SKATED BY.”

First off, I would never attempt such an idiotic move. Secondly, my arm would have needed to be at least 10 feet long for me to be able to reach the closest opposing player. Nonetheless, I was assessed a two minute bench minor for my apparent indiscretion.  In my further defence, if the official had made the call he intended I would have been assessed a game misconduct and a possible further two game suspension.  Either the ref didn’t know what he was calling or he simply wanted to punish me for calling out the off-side he missed. My guess is it was a little of both.  All of this being said, I am to this day, the infamous coach who grabbed a player from the ice; because that’s so like me.

Last, but certainly not least in the list of referee stories, is the seemingly happy go-lucky guy in stripes who officiated one of the Boy’s games during the holiday season.  The entire game we watched this ref waltzing around the ice, flipping the puck in the air like a circus juggler before each face-off and singing some rousing song or other to himself.  Post-game the Boy said the ref was chuckling at something and blurting out nonsense the whole game.  I determined, I believe correctly, that this particular official was under the influence of some foreign substance.  As such I labeled him “Mr. Happy”.  As we visit the same town from time to time we’ve seen him again, but he’s never been quite so animated as he was that game; thereby solidifying our suspicions.

In minor hockey, it’s important to keep in mind that most refs, like most players, are not NHL calibre and as such should all be given some leeway by fans, coaches and players.  Some referees receive too much abuse, while other bring it upon themselves.  Those officials who put forth their best efforts to make fair and accurate calls; those who strive to maintain a safe and positive environment for the players; are important participants in the game whose contributions should never be overlooked or under-appreciated.  

#imahockeydad

Notes from the infirmary

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The Devil didn’t play in the first game of her tournament tonight because of an injury. It seems she (or someone) dropped a hunk of wood (a plank or board or sheet of plywood for all I know) on her foot at school.  The ankle was black, blue, at least twice its normal size and was in no way being coaxed into a skate.  Added to this accidental injury was the loss of a defenceman to a sprained ankle from a misstep in a Terry Fox Run and the team headed into their game shorthanded. Still one other player would be trying to make a go of it with an injured and tightly wrapped elbow. She would succumb to the pain, taking a seat beside the unarmoured Devil on the bench before the end of the second period.  

My good wife, the team trainer, has been kept on her toes early this season and has already run out of ice packs.  It seems the older the kids get, the more prone they are to sustaining these bumps, bruises, scrapes, scratches, sprains, fractures and contusions.  Over on the Boy’s team, they entered game two of the regular season down three players due to a concussion and two bum legs.

I suppose most of us have suffered a sports-related injury at one point or another.  I recall a game when I was about 14, playing forward and on the attack in our opponent’s zone. I remember having the puck, dropping a pass back to our defenceman on the point and moving forward towards the net.  I heard the slap of the defenceman’s stick on the puck. I then felt the puck seemingly wedge itself shockingly between my shoulder blades. I surely must have resembled Jesus on the cross as I flung myself forward spread eagled and hollering like I’d been shot. I believe I laid on the cold hard ice for a good several minutes while our coach (because we didn’t have trainers back then) checked to make sure the puck hadn’t lodged itself betwixt my lungs.  I’ve never forgiven Brian Bukoski for that errant shot. He was most likely and quite rightly cursing me for getting in the way.

A similar, but slightly scarier, incident occurred during one of the Boy’s games several years ago; only this time it was the Boy rushing towards a defenceman from the opposing team as he was setting up to take a shot on net.  The defenceman fired the shot which hit the Boy’s oncoming stick and then ricochet up towards the Boy’s neck; or so it seemed. The Boy dropped to the ice like a stone.  Mom jumped up from her seat in the stands in terror; fearing the worst. Hopefully the prescribed neck guard (mandatory equipment and rightly so) had done its job. The trainer dashed immediately to the Boy’s side as his view echoed ours. He knelt down next to the Boy lowering his face close to the ice with all the precaution he could. After several agonizing minutes the trainer ushered the Boy to his knees, then to his feet and led him slowly to the bench.  We would learn in short order that the puck hadn’t actually struck the Boy’s throat, but had smacked flat on his chest under his arm. In fact, when he removed his pads and undershirt he revealed a welt shaped exactly like a puck.  We all chuckled nervously in light of having dodged what appeared to be something much more severe.

I believe it was in the same year that the same trainer was summoned to the ice by a 9 or 10 year old player who was doubled over and apparently having difficulty breathing.  As the trainer related the story, he approached the player, who had a history of asthma, with a puffer in hand. The crowd watched, heavy with anticipation.  But the player, who was indeed gasping for air, quickly reported that the issue was not asthma related.  Rather he told the trainer, “I got hit in the balls.”  Those were all the words he was able to muster. The trainer had to fight back a giggle, but wasn’t sure exactly how to address the injury, other than to suggest that the player take deep breaths, which was the thing he was having the most trouble doing.

The last several years we’ve been witness to all manner of minor and major mishaps.  Two years ago, in the final tournament of the year, we saw one boy suffer a spiral fracture of his leg, which put him in an ambulance bound for a nearby hospital.  He was in a cast for nearly six months and he missed a full year of hockey. That same cursed tournament claimed another player with a broken wrist. He would likewise sport a cast for a few months and miss tryouts for the following season’s teams. The same boy would unwittingly break the same wrist in a season-ending tournament the following year.  The Boy himself had a near miss in the tourney as a mostly beaten opponent dangerously stuck out his leg as the Boy skated by him. The two players knees struck, which can often be disastrous. The Boy had to be carried gingerly from the ice, while the offender was banished to his dressing room. The knee was luckily only bruised, but it could have been much worse.

Hockey is a fast game played on an extremely slippery surface, which lends itself to crashes, falls and collisions. Even the girls, who play non-contact are at risk as they hurtle themselves headlong up and down the ice. The boys on the other hand play full contact with the added boost of adrenaline and testosterone for good measure.  Many young players are fearless; their brains not yet fully developed with the necessary on and off switches to help them avoid reckless situations. If there is any upside, it is the fact that these kids can push their young bodies further and heal much faster from the minor injuries; injuries that would put us old guys on the shelf for weeks.

Protective equipment today has vastly improved over what we had when we were kids.  For instance, a recent heightened awareness of concussions in particular has seen more attention paid to the construction and role of the helmet. Mouthguards are also required, not to protect the teeth, but to quell the brain jarring impact of teeth on teeth.  While more protection is good and necessary, I wonder if it might add to the sense of invincibility, enabling some young athletes to play with more reckless abandon.

The Devil’s team lost game one of their tournament 4-0 last night. The Boy’s team tied regular season game two against a team they should have beaten.  Both surely could have used all those players they were missing. Of course, dealing with injuries and pulling together as a team to make up for those who are missing is yet another part of the game and learning experience.

Thankfully, I’ve less girls’ hockey injury stories to tell. I hope I haven’t jinxed anything simply by stating that here. My wife, the trainer, is stocking up on ice packs and bandages just in case. 

#imahockeydad

Notes from the infirmary

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The Devil didn’t play in the first game of her tournament tonight because of an injury. It seems she (or someone) dropped a hunk of wood (a plank or board or sheet of plywood for all I know) on her foot at school.  The ankle was black, blue, at least twice its normal size and was in no way being coaxed into a skate.  Added to this accidental injury was the loss of a defenceman to a sprained ankle from a misstep in a Terry Fox Run and the team headed into their game shorthanded. Still one other player would be trying to make a go of it with an injured and tightly wrapped elbow. She would succumb to the pain, taking a seat beside the unarmoured Devil on the bench before the end of the second period.  

My good wife, the team trainer, has been kept on her toes early this season and has already run out of ice packs.  It seems the older the kids get, the more prone they are to sustaining these bumps, bruises, scrapes, scratches, sprains, fractures and contusions.  Over on the Boy’s team, they entered game two of the regular season down three players due to a concussion and two bum legs.

I suppose most of us have suffered a sports-related injury at one point or another.  I recall a game when I was about 14, playing forward and on the attack in our opponent’s zone. I remember having the puck, dropping a pass back to our defenceman on the point and moving forward towards the net.  I heard the slap of the defenceman’s stick on the puck. I then felt the puck seemingly wedge itself shockingly between my shoulder blades. I surely must have resembled Jesus on the cross as I flung myself forward spread eagled and hollering like I’d been shot. I believe I laid on the cold hard ice for a good several minutes while our coach (because we didn’t have trainers back then) checked to make sure the puck hadn’t lodged itself betwixt my lungs.  I’ve never forgiven Brian Bukoski for that errant shot. He was most likely and quite rightly cursing me for getting in the way.

A similar, but slightly scarier, incident occurred during one of the Boy’s games several years ago; only this time it was the Boy rushing towards a defenceman from the opposing team as he was setting up to take a shot on net.  The defenceman fired the shot which hit the Boy’s oncoming stick and then ricochet up towards the Boy’s neck; or so it seemed. The Boy dropped to the ice like a stone.  Mom jumped up from her seat in the stands in terror; fearing the worst. Hopefully the prescribed neck guard (mandatory equipment and rightly so) had done its job. The trainer dashed immediately to the Boy’s side as his view echoed ours. He knelt down next to the Boy lowering his face close to the ice with all the precaution he could. After several agonizing minutes the trainer ushered the Boy to his knees, then to his feet and led him slowly to the bench.  We would learn in short order that the puck hadn’t actually struck the Boy’s throat, but had smacked flat on his chest under his arm. In fact, when he removed his pads and undershirt he revealed a welt shaped exactly like a puck.  We all chuckled nervously in light of having dodged what appeared to be something much more severe.

I believe it was in the same year that the same trainer was summoned to the ice by a 9 or 10 year old player who was doubled over and apparently having difficulty breathing.  As the trainer related the story, he approached the player, who had a history of asthma, with a puffer in hand. The crowd watched, heavy with anticipation.  But the player, who was indeed gasping for air, quickly reported that the issue was not asthma related.  Rather he told the trainer, “I got hit in the balls.”  Those were all the words he was able to muster. The trainer had to fight back a giggle, but wasn’t sure exactly how to address the injury, other than to suggest that the player take deep breaths, which was the thing he was having the most trouble doing.

The last several years we’ve been witness to all manner of minor and major mishaps.  Two years ago, in the final tournament of the year, we saw one boy suffer a spiral fracture of his leg, which put him in an ambulance bound for a nearby hospital.  He was in a cast for nearly six months and he missed a full year of hockey. That same cursed tournament claimed another player with a broken wrist. He would likewise sport a cast for a few months and miss tryouts for the following season’s teams. The same boy would unwittingly break the same wrist in a season-ending tournament the following year.  The Boy himself had a near miss in the tourney as a mostly beaten opponent dangerously stuck out his leg as the Boy skated by him. The two players knees struck, which can often be disastrous. The Boy had to be carried gingerly from the ice, while the offender was banished to his dressing room. The knee was luckily only bruised, but it could have been much worse.

Hockey is a fast game played on an extremely slippery surface, which lends itself to crashes, falls and collisions. Even the girls, who play non-contact are at risk as they hurtle themselves headlong up and down the ice. The boys on the other hand play full contact with the added boost of adrenaline and testosterone for good measure.  Many young players are fearless; their brains not yet fully developed with the necessary on and off switches to help them avoid reckless situations. If there is any upside, it is the fact that these kids can push their young bodies further and heal much faster from the minor injuries; injuries that would put us old guys on the shelf for weeks.

Protective equipment today has vastly improved over what we had when we were kids.  For instance, a recent heightened awareness of concussions in particular has seen more attention paid to the construction and role of the helmet. Mouthguards are also required, not to protect the teeth, but to quell the brain jarring impact of teeth on teeth.  While more protection is good and necessary, I wonder if it might add to the sense of invincibility, enabling some young athletes to play with more reckless abandon.

The Devil’s team lost game one of their tournament 4-0 last night. The Boy’s team tied regular season game two against a team they should have beaten.  Both surely could have used all those players they were missing. Of course, dealing with injuries and pulling together as a team to make up for those who are missing is yet another part of the game and learning experience.

Thankfully, I’ve less girls’ hockey injury stories to tell. I hope I haven’t jinxed anything simply by stating that here. My wife, the trainer, is stocking up on ice packs and bandages just in case. 

#imahockeydad

They’re Certainly Not All Fair and Even

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Tonight the girls played a relatively weak and decidedly shorthanded team.  It was only an exhibition game, so apparently half the players from the other side opted to play in a soccer match, which probably carried more weight.  The Devil’s team had a full complement of fifteen skaters and a goalie, while the opposition was only able to field eight meaning one spare defenceman and two spare forwards.  Compounding the lack of numbers was the fact that this team is likely to be designated a B team.  Our girls will be rated BB putting their general skill level slightly higher.  Our girls burst out of the gate and scored their first goal within a minute.  They would tally four more in the opening frame, while their opponents struggled to get a shot on net. After two more unanswered goals in the second period you could start to feel piercing stares from a couple of parents at the other end of the bleachers in response to muted cheering. Proud parents, particularly early in the year are eager to clap and raise their voices following a Summer break.  But the final two goals received but a smattering of praise and the players likewise scaled back their post goal celebratory head patting.  One has to question, knowing the circumstances, why the opposing coach would even schedule such a game; what benefit could his charges have received from being trounced.  It’s one thing to be challenged and quite another to not have a chance.

One of the Boy’s teams a number of years ago entered a Major level tournament meaning the majority of teams were from the 2nd year of a two year age division.  However, in one of their games they were put up against a Minor level American team from a non-hitting league. Our boys, some of which were almost two years older, over a full head taller and upwards of 50 pounds heavier had been playing contact hockey for a couple of years.  It was not pretty, but the tournament format counted goal differential so the boys were not instructed to ease up.  I believe the final score of this game was in the 13-1 range and I found myself apologizing to some of the parents of the other team; who were in turn none too happy with their coach having entered such a mismatched tournament in the first place.  This team had traveled over six hours to get there and I’m pretty certain their other games had similar results.  Placed in their shoes, I’m quite certain I would have had more than a few well chosen words for our coach and manager.

But then there are, of course, those other occasions when the tables are turned or fate intercedes to command the outcome of a game. One such game occured when I was assistant coach for one of the Devil’s former teams. In yet another tournament, we faced a small town team who came into our game having narrowly lost their previous two encounters. We’d been told they had a “hot” little goaltender who had kept those matches close. In the first period of our game, the girls were dominant firing shot after shot on or narrowly by the net.  The opposing forwards and defence, on the other hand, did not manage to make it out of their half of the ice. The fabled little goalie held true to her billing and kept the puck from reaching the waiting mesh behind her. The lopsided trend continued into the second period until about four minutes in when one of our defenders fell down and one of the other team’s forwards found herself on a breakaway; a breakaway which resulted in the opponents’ lone shot and unwittingly, a goal.  As we approached the end of the second period and the little goalie continued to “stand on her head”; I looked over to the head coach and silently mouthed “We’re not going to score.”  He nodded in equally silent agreement. The rest of the game would see the girls have several more shots on net and equally as many near misses, but none of which would serve to pull us even. The final unofficial shots on net, as reported by one of the parents maintaining stats in the stands, were 30 to 1. And the final score was indeed 1 to 0.  

While not quite a David and Goliath scenario, the game certainly proved why all games need to be played to their conclusion.  Sometimes one player or one set of circumstances can make all the difference and level the ice rink so to speak. We can only hope for more of the last example as it was truly a game worth remembering; while the other two are better forgotten.

#imahockeydad

They’re Certainly Not All Fair and Even

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Tonight the girls played a relatively weak and decidedly shorthanded team.  It was only an exhibition game, so apparently half the players from the other side opted to play in a soccer match, which probably carried more weight.  The Devil’s team had a full complement of fifteen skaters and a goalie, while the opposition was only able to field eight meaning one spare defenceman and two spare forwards.  Compounding the lack of numbers was the fact that this team is likely to be designated a B team.  Our girls will be rated BB putting their general skill level slightly higher.  Our girls burst out of the gate and scored their first goal within a minute.  They would tally four more in the opening frame, while their opponents struggled to get a shot on net. After two more unanswered goals in the second period you could start to feel piercing stares from a couple of parents at the other end of the bleachers in response to muted cheering. Proud parents, particularly early in the year are eager to clap and raise their voices following a Summer break.  But the final two goals received but a smattering of praise and the players likewise scaled back their post goal celebratory head patting.  One has to question, knowing the circumstances, why the opposing coach would even schedule such a game; what benefit could his charges have received from being trounced.  It’s one thing to be challenged and quite another to not have a chance.

One of the Boy’s teams a number of years ago entered a Major level tournament meaning the majority of teams were from the 2nd year of a two year age division.  However, in one of their games they were put up against a Minor level American team from a non-hitting league. Our boys, some of which were almost two years older, over a full head taller and upwards of 50 pounds heavier had been playing contact hockey for a couple of years.  It was not pretty, but the tournament format counted goal differential so the boys were not instructed to ease up.  I believe the final score of this game was in the 13-1 range and I found myself apologizing to some of the parents of the other team; who were in turn none too happy with their coach having entered such a mismatched tournament in the first place.  This team had traveled over six hours to get there and I’m pretty certain their other games had similar results.  Placed in their shoes, I’m quite certain I would have had more than a few well chosen words for our coach and manager.

But then there are, of course, those other occasions when the tables are turned or fate intercedes to command the outcome of a game. One such game occured when I was assistant coach for one of the Devil’s former teams. In yet another tournament, we faced a small town team who came into our game having narrowly lost their previous two encounters. We’d been told they had a “hot” little goaltender who had kept those matches close. In the first period of our game, the girls were dominant firing shot after shot on or narrowly by the net.  The opposing forwards and defence, on the other hand, did not manage to make it out of their half of the ice. The fabled little goalie held true to her billing and kept the puck from reaching the waiting mesh behind her. The lopsided trend continued into the second period until about four minutes in when one of our defenders fell down and one of the other team’s forwards found herself on a breakaway; a breakaway which resulted in the opponents’ lone shot and unwittingly, a goal.  As we approached the end of the second period and the little goalie continued to “stand on her head”; I looked over to the head coach and silently mouthed “We’re not going to score.”  He nodded in equally silent agreement. The rest of the game would see the girls have several more shots on net and equally as many near misses, but none of which would serve to pull us even. The final unofficial shots on net, as reported by one of the parents maintaining stats in the stands, were 30 to 1. And the final score was indeed 1 to 0.  

While not quite a David and Goliath scenario, the game certainly proved why all games need to be played to their conclusion.  Sometimes one player or one set of circumstances can make all the difference and level the ice rink so to speak. We can only hope for more of the last example as it was truly a game worth remembering; while the other two are better forgotten.

#imahockeydad

Tournament Play

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The first test of the new season for the Boy’s team is an early bird tournament that started this evening about an hour from home. Tournaments are generally good because teams have an opportunity to play against teams they wouldn’t play during the regular season.  Pre-season tournaments are good because there are fewer expectations and less pressure to win. Of course, the GOAL is still to WIN.

Every tournament is a little bit different in the way its structured.  Some differ in the way they assign points for games won, periods won, goals for or goals against. Sometimes the criteria for advancing beyond a preliminary round can be a little confusing.  The myriad of tie breaking scenarios is quite often enough to make one’s head spin. 

I immediately recall two tournaments in particular where the scoring formats produced some curious results.  

In one instance, the Boy’s team was able to advance to a playoff round despite having recorded no wins (one tie and two one-goal losses) in a three game round robin preliminary format.  It seems they were able to amass enough points by having won or tied individual periods to beat out two other teams; one of which actually had a round robin victory.  To make matters worse, this was the Boy’s teams home tournament and onlookers undoubtedly raised a Spockian eyebrow at the home teams good fortune.  How could a team with no wins advance? A final rusty nail in the proverbial coffin would find the Boy’s team going on to win the entire tournament as they managed to play progressively better from match to match all the way to a victory in the championship final.

The other odd situation I recall found the Boy’s team on the opposite end of a wonky points per game won/points per period won situation.  In this tournament, the Boys came out strong in each of their three round robin games and built up commanding leads in the first period of each. However, in two of those three games, although the Boy’s team won, the opposition came back hard and won or tied the second and third periods.  As fate would have it, one of these two opponents would win their other two games and a majority of the periods in each; thereby vaulting them over the Boy’s team on the basis of aggregate game plus period points.  What seemed to be a very successful tournament ended with a bewildering THUD.

If this all sounds confusing that’s only because it is.  There will always be groups of fathers, coaches and tournament officials huddled around the posted game results, which are usually prominently displayed on a main arena wall, trying to figure out all of the permutations and who the potential playoff opponents will be.  If Team A beats Team B by 3 goals but then loses to Team C by 2, ties Team D and mercies Team E; what’s the square root of Pi and Who’s on First?

Last season the Devil’s team was playing in a tournament, which was run at multiple arenas (as most are). Early on we were told game results were being dutifully updated on a tournament Web site. Going into their final game, the Devil’s coach knew there were a couple of events that needed to occur in order for the team to advance to the playoff round.  First off, the Devil’s team needed to produce a convincing (at least four goal) win against a tough opponent. Secondly, a game starting 30 minutes earlier at one of the other rinks had to have a specific winner.  With this in mind, I was asked by the coach to check score of the other game on a laptop out in the arena lobby, so he would be able to determine whether or not they had a legitimate shot to progress.  Halfway through the second period of the Devil’s game, I was given the secret signal from her coach to go out to the lobby and check the score of the other game. Of course, we were not dealing with real-time results and I spent the better part of 15 minutes hitting <REFRESH> and ultimately coming up with nothing in the way of a score.  When I returned to the action a fellow spectator promptly reported that the Devil had scored a superlative goal and had a fine assist to go with it – both of which I missed during my fruitless sojourn to the arena lobby. Post-game I had to tell a white lie and say that, “Of course I saw the beautiful top-shelf goal.” The Devil’s team did surprisingly win their game quite handily and the right team did also claim victory at the other rink; thereby allowing the Devil’s team to move on. However, moving on meant a third game in a 12-hour span for a bunch of dead-tired 12 year olds. So that’s where that tournament ended.

The Boy’s first game this evening was a white-knuckled, edge-of-your-seat, 2-1 victory.  The team looked pretty good in their first official game as a team. We’ll hope they fare as well or better in their next two outings.  I’m not sure whether or not periods won has any bearing on the tournament standings, but I’m sure coaches and parents will eventually be huddled around the bristol board covered wall, pulling out scientific calculators or multi-colored abacuses to see which teams will face off in the quarter finals.

Did I mention that I love spending my weekend on my way to or in a rink? Which is fortunate because the Devil has three exhibition games of her own in the next three days. We should be drawing straws at some point tomorrow to figure out exactly who is going where and when.

#imahockeydad

Tournament Play

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The first test of the new season for the Boy’s team is an early bird tournament that started this evening about an hour from home. Tournaments are generally good because teams have an opportunity to play against teams they wouldn’t play during the regular season.  Pre-season tournaments are good because there are fewer expectations and less pressure to win. Of course, the GOAL is still to WIN.

Every tournament is a little bit different in the way its structured.  Some differ in the way they assign points for games won, periods won, goals for or goals against. Sometimes the criteria for advancing beyond a preliminary round can be a little confusing.  The myriad of tie breaking scenarios is quite often enough to make one’s head spin. 

I immediately recall two tournaments in particular where the scoring formats produced some curious results.  

In one instance, the Boy’s team was able to advance to a playoff round despite having recorded no wins (one tie and two one-goal losses) in a three game round robin preliminary format.  It seems they were able to amass enough points by having won or tied individual periods to beat out two other teams; one of which actually had a round robin victory.  To make matters worse, this was the Boy’s teams home tournament and onlookers undoubtedly raised a Spockian eyebrow at the home teams good fortune.  How could a team with no wins advance? A final rusty nail in the proverbial coffin would find the Boy’s team going on to win the entire tournament as they managed to play progressively better from match to match all the way to a victory in the championship final.

The other odd situation I recall found the Boy’s team on the opposite end of a wonky points per game won/points per period won situation.  In this tournament, the Boys came out strong in each of their three round robin games and built up commanding leads in the first period of each. However, in two of those three games, although the Boy’s team won, the opposition came back hard and won or tied the second and third periods.  As fate would have it, one of these two opponents would win their other two games and a majority of the periods in each; thereby vaulting them over the Boy’s team on the basis of aggregate game plus period points.  What seemed to be a very successful tournament ended with a bewildering THUD.

If this all sounds confusing that’s only because it is.  There will always be groups of fathers, coaches and tournament officials huddled around the posted game results, which are usually prominently displayed on a main arena wall, trying to figure out all of the permutations and who the potential playoff opponents will be.  If Team A beats Team B by 3 goals but then loses to Team C by 2, ties Team D and mercies Team E; what’s the square root of Pi and Who’s on First?

Last season the Devil’s team was playing in a tournament, which was run at multiple arenas (as most are). Early on we were told game results were being dutifully updated on a tournament Web site. Going into their final game, the Devil’s coach knew there were a couple of events that needed to occur in order for the team to advance to the playoff round.  First off, the Devil’s team needed to produce a convincing (at least four goal) win against a tough opponent. Secondly, a game starting 30 minutes earlier at one of the other rinks had to have a specific winner.  With this in mind, I was asked by the coach to check score of the other game on a laptop out in the arena lobby, so he would be able to determine whether or not they had a legitimate shot to progress.  Halfway through the second period of the Devil’s game, I was given the secret signal from her coach to go out to the lobby and check the score of the other game. Of course, we were not dealing with real-time results and I spent the better part of 15 minutes hitting <REFRESH> and ultimately coming up with nothing in the way of a score.  When I returned to the action a fellow spectator promptly reported that the Devil had scored a superlative goal and had a fine assist to go with it – both of which I missed during my fruitless sojourn to the arena lobby. Post-game I had to tell a white lie and say that, “Of course I saw the beautiful top-shelf goal.” The Devil’s team did surprisingly win their game quite handily and the right team did also claim victory at the other rink; thereby allowing the Devil’s team to move on. However, moving on meant a third game in a 12-hour span for a bunch of dead-tired 12 year olds. So that’s where that tournament ended.

The Boy’s first game this evening was a white-knuckled, edge-of-your-seat, 2-1 victory.  The team looked pretty good in their first official game as a team. We’ll hope they fare as well or better in their next two outings.  I’m not sure whether or not periods won has any bearing on the tournament standings, but I’m sure coaches and parents will eventually be huddled around the bristol board covered wall, pulling out scientific calculators or multi-colored abacuses to see which teams will face off in the quarter finals.

Did I mention that I love spending my weekend on my way to or in a rink? Which is fortunate because the Devil has three exhibition games of her own in the next three days. We should be drawing straws at some point tomorrow to figure out exactly who is going where and when.

#imahockeydad