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Road Trip for a Hockey Fix

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It’s been a little over a year since we watched the Boy’s last minor hockey game and I gotta tell ya, it’s kinda tough to suddenly just stop doing something you’ve been doing 5-6 times a week 8 out of 12 months of the year for over 12 years. I’m sure any respectable addict, regardless the drug, will tell you the same. And yes, my kids’ hockey has been my drug of choice. That being said, we’ve still been plenty busy with the Devil and her schedule to which posts over the last six months or so will attest. However, in a coupla months she too will be entering her swan song season and then what? I’m just not going to worry about it for now and focus on enjoying each and every opportunity I get to see her play. I recently shared emails with the father of a another girl on the Devil’s three-age Midget team who is/was in her final year, which we are in the process of wrapping up (with just a couple of relatively meaningless “practices” and a year-end team party left). He was all but begging me, as the head coach, to consider putting our squad into one more tournament because it as he emphatically emailed, “Freekin breaks my heart – I really wanted to see her wear the Shark one more time.” Another addict, among many others I know (a few of which are no doubt reading and nodding), since we tend to travel in packs.

Speaking of travelling, the point of this recollection Sturdy Wingsis a little road trip Momma, the Devil and I decided to take the earlier this week to quell our hockey jonesing. Ok, not so much for the Devil, but she came along as a show of support for her big brother and perhaps out of curiosity. You see the Boy has been playing intramural rec hockey in University with a bunch of his residence mates, many of whom are coincidentally former minor hockey foes, on a team called The Sturdy Wings (an homage to the Youth Help org from the movie Role Models). Being rec and University hockey, in that order, most of his games start sometime after 11pm. We generally receive next day reports of his squad’s progress and his personal exploits via text – hardly an ample fix for a hardcore addict. The last couple of texts and then follow up calls told tales of quarter and semi-final victories. To add salt to already slightly festering wounds, the Boy detailed a last minute come from behind tying goal, which sent their quarter-final game intto overtime. In four-on-four overtime hockey, as he told it, his side gained a man advantage, during which he sent a slap shot from the point over the flailing glove of the opposing goaltender for the win. At the height of his excitement, the Boy reported performing a Teemu Selanne-esque goal celebration (which I had selfishly requested repeatedly during his last minor hockey season to no avail).

 

Apparently, the gravity of the Intramural Recreational Championship Game prompted a semi-respectable 9:30pm start time, which led us to consider making the roughly 90 minute trek after work to get a Boy's 19th BDay Beertaste. We rationalized the somewhat spontaneous journey by likening it to any other away game the Boy or the Devil have played in recent years where the return home arrival time is somewhere around midnight. Never mind that we had made the same trip only a week earlier to celebrate the Boy’s 19th birthday with a lunch and ceremonial alcoholic beverage (surely the first he’d had over his last five months at school #roflqtm). We also followed the Boy’s lead who was all for having us come down to see the Sturdy Wings go for recreational hockey Gold. Boy Pre-GameWe arrived at the rink where both the Boy and the Devil had played in tournaments past, flashing a few memories through my head. The arena bar would be the site of our pre-game meal and we were granted a brief audience with the lad before he and the Sturdy Wings took to the ice. Having grown up as respectable rep hockey players and taking cues from the pros, the Boys showed up at the rink in nappy attire. As the team arrived at their bench, we took note of the three-man coaching staff, likewise dressed to the nines (suits, ties, etc.) and fully equipped with clip boards and water bottles. Momma and I were curious to know what sort of detailed hockey strategy was scrolled on the clip board during a recreational university game. The Boy would later report it’s mostly gibberish and gobbledygook. For instance, during one critical break in play the coach shared a picture of dog he had drawn. A lovely dog to be sure, but little help where the game was concerned. Then again, from this point forward, I’m going to imagine professional coaches doing the same and might even pull something like this out when I’m on the bench next year. A lot of times players likely aren’t really listening anyway. One other obvious pre-game note was the disparity in players between the Sturdy Wings (9) and their recreational championship final opponents (15) whose name we were not aware of. The Boy would be one of only three Sturdy Wings defenders, a decided challenge knowing he’s likely lost a some of his conditioning while living the university student life. Where the good guys did have an advantage was in the cheering section as their fan base dwarfed that of the other side. And not surprisingly, there did not appear to be any other Momma and the Deviloverly-devoted families in the stands. The game began and in relatively short order we noted the pace was not quite the same as the competitive hockey we were formerly used to; not that we should have expected it would be. The Devil, for her part, surmised she and her teammates could give these crews a run for their money; a stretch, but ya never know. In only his third shift, the Boy filled a familiar role, driving an opponent into the boards. Shortly thereafter he took his place in another familiar place as he was assessed a penalty. Penalties, in addition to being short benched, would prove to be the Sturdy Wings undoing as they fell behind by a goal. After a couple more shifts the Boy made a return to the sin bin after having words with an opponent in front of his net. Momma said he better not get another after we drove all this way to watch him play. The bad guys would score two more goals and despite some pressure with a few good scoring opportunities, the Sturdy Wings would come up short of their quest for university recreational intramural hockey supremacy. What the game certainly did not lack was passion as one of the frustrated Wings smashed his stick against a stanchion busting it into a few useless pieces as the clock ticked down under the 2 minute mark and the outcome was obvious.  As I know from my own rec hockey experience, there is no taking the competitive drive out of most hockey players, regardless the level at which they are playing. The game ended and “We Are The Champions” rang out through the arena speakers; alas for the other side to bask in.

Boy in da Bin
Post-game we retired to the lobby to wait for the Boy and his teammates, who would no doubt be dejected after the loss. I was a little concerned we would be partially blamed for the defeat after hearing of the squad’s prior exploits. We were assured by members of the waiting entourage the team had played much better in games leading up to this one, which didn’t much help to assuage my fears. But when he arrived, the Boy didn’t seem too disappointed in not having pulled out the victory as he said this we the first time they had played a team with so many players (a common function of rec hockey) and one of their key members had been in bed all day with a fever but played anyway; further testament to my thought above on persistent competitive drive. We couriered the Boy’s and some of the players’ gear back to their residence, then left them to lick their wounds and/or drown their sorrows as university students are wont to do. We’ll be back to pick him up for the Summer break in a couple more weeks. And so, our little adventure which encompassed driving three hours to watch a 50-minute game did not have the storybook finish. Yet, from my perspective, the night was successful as the little bit of hockey sated the appetite and should hold me over until the Devil’s or Boy’s next game. More so, the true value of the endeavour was echoed in a Tweet posted by the Boy as we made our way home, “And one last thanks to my awesome fam for driving down from Barrie to watch the game !! #luvya”. He was happy to have us there and we were likewise happy to be there. Mission accomplished.

#imahockeydad

p.s. Momma points out in hindsight she wished she brought her real camera to snap a few more pics (which has been her deal through 12+ years of hockey), but she was a little worried about da Boy being embarrassed. Go figure, one of his first questions was “Where’s the camera?” More, high quality action photos promised next time round seeing as there are three more years worth of intramural recreational hockey games for us to choose from, whenever the addiction strikes particularly hard.

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

Lessons Learned – Part 1

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The Boy’s team (and fathers, which was a bit of a touchy subject for some mothers) were treated to a unique hockey experience over the weekend that started with all boarding a charter coach bus bound for Oswego, New York on Thursday morning at 6am.  Bleary eyed boys and dads loaded suitcases, sticks, equipment bags, coolers, a few boxes of Tim Horton’s coffee and a few more boxes of Timbits into the waiting underside and overhead compartments of the idling vehicle. The coach and manager had prepared a very detailed itinerary, which included a practice at the SUNY Oswego campus hockey rink, a campus tour, two games against a local under 16 team, two team dinners, a SUNY Oswego university exhibition hockey game and several team-building exercises. The latter activities were a primary focus of the trip. The importance of being a part of a team and putting the team first were underlying themes for the entire weekend.

The bus ride was about six hours in total so some hunkered down to catch a snooze on the way to the border.  Some seats were faintly lit by iPods or cell phones screens.  Not an hour into the trip I was alerted by the Boy’s mom that he had left his hockey stick in the van in his early morning haze.  I’d already planned on maybe looking for a deal on a stick south of the border, but it seemed that was now a certainty.  Ah well, at least we didn’t forget his skates (see a few posts back covering another trip to New York about a year ago – ohhh, yes we did).

First stop before the border was the duty free where some boys hit the Tim Horton’s and many fathers took advantage of discounted alcohol and tobacco products as an intended means to pass the time while the boys took part in their team-building functions.

At the border, all bus riders were required to disembark to vouch for their citizenship and attest to their father-son relationships.  Mom’s had, of course, already signed affidavits granting permission for their sons to travel into the U.S. with just one parent.  After a few juvenile snickers about who should have been interrogated more vigorously, we jumped back on the bus to continue our journey.

We arrived at the hotel just north of Syracuse after a quick stop for lunch.  Team roommates were assigned and father’s partnered up to share accommodations and room costs for the weekend. Boys being boys dispersed to check out their rooms, declare dibs or wrestle for the most comfortable beds and find out what trouble they could get into without getting caught.  But this was short lived as there would be an initial team meeting before dinner at Dinosaur BBQ. Dinner was generally regarded as awesome. I, for my part, made relatively short work of Tres Hombres; an array of bbq’d pork parts, mashed potatoes, baked beans and corn bread to die for.  The Boy thought his meal left a little to be desired, which left me wondering where I went wrong in his upbringing; though he is more of a beef guy by nature.

Post-dinner we headed back to the hotel where the boys and some fathers caught a movie; while other fathers broke out the cards, poker chips and duty free purchases. The team had a curfew as there was a practice early the next morning. The 7am wake-up call came a little too early for some of us fathers. But awaken we did; trudging down to the breakfast buffet before re-boarding the bus on our way to the university.

Side note – it had not yet stopped raining since we left Canada over 24 hours earlier and would not stop for another 24; which was one of the only negatives of the weekend.  

SUNY Oswego is a very well regarded Division 3 NCAA hockey school and the facilities we entered for practice were quite impressive.  We were told later that they were an upgrade from an old airport hangar, which served as the home rink only a few years ago. The team practiced for about an hour and a half; looking like they had woken up early following a 6 hour bus trip, a visit to a BBQ restaurant and a night in a hotel.  Father’s hoped the spaghetti legs and stiff arms would leave prior to their date with the under-16 team.

After practice, the boys were treated to a guided tour of the part of the campus from the Assistant Coach of the university hockey team (rain and wind cut short any possibility of a fuller tour to the relief of many dads). The tour began with a brief speech on how Division 3 university hockey works. In short, there are no athletic scholarships and all players were there as students first and hockey players second.  Some would have opportunities to pursue semi-pro or pro hockey careers, but academics were of utmost importance; a good message for impressionable 15 year-old boys to hear methinks.

The tour ended in the university team locker room; replete with its history, symbolism and messages about hard work and teamwork.  The Assistant Coach reinforced the prominent themes and gave several real-world examples of how SUNY Oswego measured and realized success. Though they are 15 years old boys, with the intermittent attention spans of 5 year olds, I don’t believe the message was lost on this group. Evidence of that fact has since been seen on and off the ice.

Back on the bus and off to a nearby Subway to quell the hunger of our growing young men and a few starving fathers; before heading to a hockey store which was reportedly just on the way back to our hotel.  Just on the way back was definitely a relative phrase as we drove a fair bit farther than expected to find the fabled location. In the U.S., unlike in Canada, you cannot just go into any sports store to find hockey gear; you have to go to a hockey-specific store.  As our bus load of eager Canadian hockey shoppers pulled up, the store owners most assuredly must have said a brief prayer of thanks for their impending windfall. Most every player left with some new piece of equipment, the Boy a new stick of course, and fathers left with lighter wallets.

The unplanned stop-off at the hockey store meant only a short hotel visit as formal dinner plans were made at Delmonico’s Italian Steakhouse.  The boys were required to wear a dress shirt and tie; to look the part of an organized and respectable team.  Dinner again was awesome; enhanced by the general atmosphere of the steakhouse and a talented roving magician who captured the nearly undivided attention of the team. His crowning feat saw a card, inscribed with the words “Barrie Colts OMHA Champs”, magically attach itself to the ceiling of the restaurant; a trick which will not soon be forgotten by any of the witnesses, young or old.

With bellies and brains full we ventured back to the hotel where the boys curfew and the dads’ poker chips awaited.  We fathers apparently forgot how early the wake-up call seemed only 18 hours earlier as our games of chance and duty free chasers took us well into the night.

The next two days would provide the actual competition the team had traveled down for along with an introduction to the spectacle that is U.S. university hockey. More to follow…

#imahockeydad

Lessons Learned – Part 1

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The Boy’s team (and fathers, which was a bit of a touchy subject for some mothers) were treated to a unique hockey experience over the weekend that started with all boarding a charter coach bus bound for Oswego, New York on Thursday morning at 6am.  Bleary eyed boys and dads loaded suitcases, sticks, equipment bags, coolers, a few boxes of Tim Horton’s coffee and a few more boxes of Timbits into the waiting underside and overhead compartments of the idling vehicle. The coach and manager had prepared a very detailed itinerary, which included a practice at the SUNY Oswego campus hockey rink, a campus tour, two games against a local under 16 team, two team dinners, a SUNY Oswego university exhibition hockey game and several team-building exercises. The latter activities were a primary focus of the trip. The importance of being a part of a team and putting the team first were underlying themes for the entire weekend.

The bus ride was about six hours in total so some hunkered down to catch a snooze on the way to the border.  Some seats were faintly lit by iPods or cell phones screens.  Not an hour into the trip I was alerted by the Boy’s mom that he had left his hockey stick in the van in his early morning haze.  I’d already planned on maybe looking for a deal on a stick south of the border, but it seemed that was now a certainty.  Ah well, at least we didn’t forget his skates (see a few posts back covering another trip to New York about a year ago – ohhh, yes we did).

First stop before the border was the duty free where some boys hit the Tim Horton’s and many fathers took advantage of discounted alcohol and tobacco products as an intended means to pass the time while the boys took part in their team-building functions.

At the border, all bus riders were required to disembark to vouch for their citizenship and attest to their father-son relationships.  Mom’s had, of course, already signed affidavits granting permission for their sons to travel into the U.S. with just one parent.  After a few juvenile snickers about who should have been interrogated more vigorously, we jumped back on the bus to continue our journey.

We arrived at the hotel just north of Syracuse after a quick stop for lunch.  Team roommates were assigned and father’s partnered up to share accommodations and room costs for the weekend. Boys being boys dispersed to check out their rooms, declare dibs or wrestle for the most comfortable beds and find out what trouble they could get into without getting caught.  But this was short lived as there would be an initial team meeting before dinner at Dinosaur BBQ. Dinner was generally regarded as awesome. I, for my part, made relatively short work of Tres Hombres; an array of bbq’d pork parts, mashed potatoes, baked beans and corn bread to die for.  The Boy thought his meal left a little to be desired, which left me wondering where I went wrong in his upbringing; though he is more of a beef guy by nature.

Post-dinner we headed back to the hotel where the boys and some fathers caught a movie; while other fathers broke out the cards, poker chips and duty free purchases. The team had a curfew as there was a practice early the next morning. The 7am wake-up call came a little too early for some of us fathers. But awaken we did; trudging down to the breakfast buffet before re-boarding the bus on our way to the university.

Side note – it had not yet stopped raining since we left Canada over 24 hours earlier and would not stop for another 24; which was one of the only negatives of the weekend.  

SUNY Oswego is a very well regarded Division 3 NCAA hockey school and the facilities we entered for practice were quite impressive.  We were told later that they were an upgrade from an old airport hangar, which served as the home rink only a few years ago. The team practiced for about an hour and a half; looking like they had woken up early following a 6 hour bus trip, a visit to a BBQ restaurant and a night in a hotel.  Father’s hoped the spaghetti legs and stiff arms would leave prior to their date with the under-16 team.

After practice, the boys were treated to a guided tour of the part of the campus from the Assistant Coach of the university hockey team (rain and wind cut short any possibility of a fuller tour to the relief of many dads). The tour began with a brief speech on how Division 3 university hockey works. In short, there are no athletic scholarships and all players were there as students first and hockey players second.  Some would have opportunities to pursue semi-pro or pro hockey careers, but academics were of utmost importance; a good message for impressionable 15 year-old boys to hear methinks.

The tour ended in the university team locker room; replete with its history, symbolism and messages about hard work and teamwork.  The Assistant Coach reinforced the prominent themes and gave several real-world examples of how SUNY Oswego measured and realized success. Though they are 15 years old boys, with the intermittent attention spans of 5 year olds, I don’t believe the message was lost on this group. Evidence of that fact has since been seen on and off the ice.

Back on the bus and off to a nearby Subway to quell the hunger of our growing young men and a few starving fathers; before heading to a hockey store which was reportedly just on the way back to our hotel.  Just on the way back was definitely a relative phrase as we drove a fair bit farther than expected to find the fabled location. In the U.S., unlike in Canada, you cannot just go into any sports store to find hockey gear; you have to go to a hockey-specific store.  As our bus load of eager Canadian hockey shoppers pulled up, the store owners most assuredly must have said a brief prayer of thanks for their impending windfall. Most every player left with some new piece of equipment, the Boy a new stick of course, and fathers left with lighter wallets.

The unplanned stop-off at the hockey store meant only a short hotel visit as formal dinner plans were made at Delmonico’s Italian Steakhouse.  The boys were required to wear a dress shirt and tie; to look the part of an organized and respectable team.  Dinner again was awesome; enhanced by the general atmosphere of the steakhouse and a talented roving magician who captured the nearly undivided attention of the team. His crowning feat saw a card, inscribed with the words “Barrie Colts OMHA Champs”, magically attach itself to the ceiling of the restaurant; a trick which will not soon be forgotten by any of the witnesses, young or old.

With bellies and brains full we ventured back to the hotel where the boys curfew and the dads’ poker chips awaited.  We fathers apparently forgot how early the wake-up call seemed only 18 hours earlier as our games of chance and duty free chasers took us well into the night.

The next two days would provide the actual competition the team had traveled down for along with an introduction to the spectacle that is U.S. university hockey. More to follow…

#imahockeydad