Tag Archives: minor hockey

Final Minor Hockey Tourney Hurrah

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I don’t usually like to write, talk or even mention games before they happen out of fear of angering the ever-present hockey gods. But this time is different as next weekend we will embark on the final road trip to play the final games of da Boy’s minor hockey career. A few on the team thought last weekend’s provincial semi-final loss was the end (eliciting a coupla well-earned tears). However, as it turned out the coaching staff was able to find and register for a last-minute tournament for the squad to compete in.  And not just any tournament; the 41st Annual Leo Boivin International Midget AAA Showcase Tournament. The key words here being AAA, International and Showcase in that order.  AAA because da Boy plays on a AA team (one rung below AAA) and there are only only two other AA teams taking part in this tourney, which will make for some pretty stiff competition to be sure.  This group is coming off a great playoff run, this is really a no pressure tournament for them and hot goaltending can go a long way in a short tourney so ya just never know.  We do know from the last few weeks there’s no quit in our side.  The International means the Boys get to play teams from a bunch of different places, including Latvia in game one; a pretty cool opportunity.  And the Showcase means there will be scouts from schools, Junior teams and elsewhere in the stands. Not that any of our kids are heading to the Show, but another cool factor to add to the swan song hockey experience. As always for me it’s about the memories created and carried forward.

Which gives me pause to bring back a few recollections from the Boy’s many tourneys past. Each and every season has brought its share of moments on and off the ice.

Like the time someone, who shall remain nameless, forgot da Boy’s skates in the trunk of his car, which was sitting in his driveway over three hours away. After suffering through the first game with undersized circa 1960 skates donated by the local rink rat, da Boy was able to finish the tournament on a teammate’s blades as four of his comrades found themselves suspended following a game ending brawl. He probably would have been involved in the skirmish, but he could barely skate.  All I could say to the disappointed player’s parents was, “Sorry about your luck…what size are your kid’s feet?”

Or the season ending tournament held in Niagara Falls over the St. Paddy’s day weekend, which found several parents, one of whom shall again remain nameless, playing texas hold em poker and sipping Irish whiskey until the wee, wee hours of the night before the final game on Sunday morning at 7:30am. As I recall, we lost the morning game and I had to settle on counting my poker winnings in the passenger seat on the way home for faint solace.

A couple of trips to the Nation’s Capital have afforded us chances to skate on the canal, visit the War Museum, catch a Senators game and take the kids on a tour of where Hockey Momma and I spent our college years (speaking of memories).  Ottawa also produced da Boy’s infamous Whooosh…. moment shared here for your, or perhaps simply my, enjoyment.

As you can see, he had planned on a booming clapper from the point as he rarely played D that season. He swung mightily and missed, much to the merriment of several of us in the stands who happened to be standing next to the cameraman’s microphone. Yet, my favourite part is the part you don’t see when da Boy turns to unceremoniously salute us before refocusing on the play.

Of course, this season provided one of the most memorable tournament experiences as hockey took us all many hours south to Nashville, Tennessee. A trip deserving two full sets of remembrances by yours truly. Though the team came home with a well-deserved Championship, hockey was merely the backdrop to a much larger life event.

A similar such event, though not a tourney per se, took place a couple of years ago when the Boys were treated to a bus ride to Oswego, New York to visit the Oswego State University of New York and to get a feel for US Division III hockey. A trip which included a practice on the university rink followed by chat with the school’s team coach, a tour of the locker room and campus, a couple of successful exhibition games against a local high school team and capped by tickets to a Oswego State Lakers Men’s Ice Hockey Team game.

Needless to say, the students at Oswego State luvs them some hockey. The spirit in the rink was infectious and was one of the highlights of the trip – maybe of the season.

Then there was a great weekend in Ann Arbour, Michigan about five or six years ago, where the Boy and I shared a room with one of his teammates (a teammate to this day) and his hockey dad in the interest of saving a few bucks in hotel fees. Little did the other father and I know this would automatically designate our room the warzone for the weekend, as the timing of this trip coincided with the height of the popularity of rapid-fire Nerf guns. I couldn’t locate a photo so you’ll simply have to imaging an entire room disassembled and reassembled with makeshift forts and strewn with all manner of projectile from the traditional nerf  “bullets” to toilet paper rolls and water soaked hotel towels. Oh yeah, the team also got to play in the fabled Yost Ice Arena, home to the Michigan Wolverines college hockey team. If I recall, the team settled for a second place finish on this particular trip and we had a long, quiet ride home.

Yeah, I could probably go on here ad nauseum as plenty of scenes flood back into my head and please do add any here should they occur to you. Even caught myself going back to look through old pics in the process.

hockey team cheer

I guess they really were that small once. Gonna have to take a lot more pics next weekend to complement the ones we’ll feverishly stuff into our already jam-packed minds.

#imahockeydad

p.s. So as I lay awake last night with the gears spinning in my head, as they are often wont to do, another great moment popped to the fore. This one methinks occurred seven or eight years ago during a sudden death quarterfinal match in Guelph; a game which had ended in regulation at 2-2, then went through 5 minutes of 5 on 5 overtime, followed by 4 minutes of 4 on 4 overtime with no decision. At the end of the 4 on 4 our side was assessed a penalty meaning the next round of OT would put us at a rare 2 on 3 disadvantage. I and the father standing next to me looked on with trepidation as our two sons were sent out onto the ice to take a faceoff in our zone.  I may have actually said out loud, “Aw cmon, don’t put my kid out there!” But then the play which has stayed etched in my subconscious lo this many years unfolded. The Boy successfully won the draw and pushed the puck forward between his combatants feet. His agile teammate, who is still a close friend to this day, pounced on the loose biscuit, flew by an unsuspecting defenceman and took off on a breakaway. With three players in hot pursuit, he hurled the puck past a no doubt nervous little goal keeper and bedlam ensued as fifteen little bodies threw themselves on top of him with da Boy leading the way. I’m pretty sure this particular tournament ended for our lads with a loss in the Championship match, but no matter as no one could erase the drama which was the quarters.

p.s.s. I lay there some more, because I don’t have to go to work on Monday morning or anything, and thought it would be kinda cool to try to remember all of the places da Boy played tournaments – each one with a set of moments of its own. Here in no particular order, save for the first and the last, is the somewhat complete list to the best of my recollection: Oak Ridges, Beaverton, Bradford, Barrie (multiple times as it’s the home rink), Aurora, Markham, Richmond Hill (again), Belleville (twice), Guelph, Niagara Falls – Ontario (more than once), Niagara Falls – New York, Ann Arbor – Michigan, Sudbury (two Silver Stick qualifier championships), Sarnia (two Silver Stick appearances), Ottawa (a coupla times), Toronto, Mississauga (2 or 3 times), Pickering/Ajax, Welland, Fort Erie, Nashville – Tennessee, Prescott (in just a few days to put a cap on this story). Of course, then I had to consider the Devil’s travels as well, which have included some repeats in Ottawa (deux fois), Toronto, Pickering/Ajax, Sudbury, Mississauga (twofold), Niagara Falls, Aurora and Guelph, but also had us driving to Midland, Coldwater, Darlington, Stouffville (dos veces), Brampton, Whitby, Aylmer, North Bay, London and Windsor (x2). No US trips for the Devil…yet.  I’m sure I missed a couple in there somewhere and I’m also sure Hockey Momma will remind me which they were.

p.s.s.s. My dreary-eyed remembrance is actually more of a coincidence as I recalled the Boy’s first tournament at the ripe age of four in Oak Ridges. One of the players on an opposing team was the son of then active NHL goalie Curtis Joseph. I remember Cujo showing up at the arena and immediately being mobbed by his adoring Toronto Maple Leafs fans (something I personally couldn’t fully appreciate being a lifelong Leaf hater). I recall he politely asked to be left alone to watch his boy’s game in a quiet corner of the rink and then graciously signed autographs for upwards of an hour thereafter. The small coincidence arises in the fact our boy’s paths would not cross again until this season when their teams would battle against each other right up until their league quarter-finals, which ended with our side’s victory just a few weeks ago. The happenstance is obviously lost on Mr. Joseph, but I thought it an interesting correlation as I pondered the past in the middle of the night.

And Just Like That…A Minor Hockey Career Nears Its End

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For the second time in a few weeks, I find myself begrudgingly having to recap a playoff series; only this time the taste is a little more sour as the end of a series marks the almost-end of the Boy’s minor hockey career.

The provincial semi-finals started quickly, just beyond the end of a dramatic three-game comeback by the Boy and his cohorts; a series no doubt mentally, if not physically draining. I would miss game one as I stayed back to escort the Devil to her own provincial playdown game.  As chance or bad luck would have it, the Devil’s game would be played in one of the only places on Earth without cell service and so I would have to wait until her game ended to get an update. Just moments after pulling out of the arena parking lot, I noted a faint signal so I pulled over to the side of the road (much to the dismay of the Devil who’d just finished competing in a dramatic game of her own) to see if my Hockey Momma had relayed a recent score. Instead I was greeted by a flurry of messages from one of my bestest friends who actually drove over an hour to catch the game after having acquired the playoff bug by attending two pressure packed games  in the previous series. I was pleased to hear the Boys were up by a goal in game one and apparently controlling most of the play. I drove home quickly so I could continue following the game via my loyal texting messenger. For the next hour I was treated to and suffered through updates every 15 to 20 seconds as the game made its way back and forth, up and down the ice as my brother from another mother cursed and clutched his heart as he reported each painful highlight from a distance. All was positive until about 5 minutes left in the third when I saw the omninous word F#@K flash onto my mobile screen. The bad guys tied the game and would shortly thereafter force a 10 minute overtime. I bristled on the end of my phone as a few minutes later the offending four letter word was repeated, thereby signalling a 1-0 series deficit. Upon their return from the game shortly before 1:00 am, Momma reported ours was the better team overall.  She said the series was their’s for the taking if the Boys replicated their performance from the two previous series victories, which brought them to this point.

A few days later the home stands were packed and hummed in anticipation of a Colts victory to knot the series at one game apiece.  I was personally confident in light of the game one reports I’d received.  Game two would see the good guys take a one goal lead early as they had apparently done in the opener. And while the opponents were game, the home side certainly dominated the balance of play. Still the visitors would tie the score at 1-1 just before the end of the second period after a scramble in front of the net.  The Colts got a much needed goal to pull ahead in the third and we all held our breaths hoping they could extend or at least protect the lead over the next 10 minutes. As time ticked down under two minutes we all exhaled as the rivals took an ill-timed penalty. They would remove their goaltender moments later and everything seemed to be headed in the right direction. Unfortunately, under the pressure of desperate play from their opponents the home side would take one and then a second penalty of their own. Suddenly, their one man advantage had turned into a two-player deficit. And then, with only 31 seconds left in regulation time, and me perched behind our keeper (which is an admittedly odd place for me to be watching a game) I saw the puck land precariously close to the goal line in behind the scrambling netminder. Sensing the dangerous position of the offending disc, he swung his arm back but touched no frozen rubber. The one or two seconds the puck laid there felt like an eternity. I so wanted to lunge headlong through the plexiglass myself to bat the puck away ahead of the foreign stick I saw poke it over the line to tie the match and send it to another 10 minute overtime; one in which the Boys would have to start with a player still in the penalty box. Luckily, they would weather that mini-storm, but would leave the game down three points to one instead of being tied at two. The next trip to the opposing rink would need to be more fruitful than the first. So far, by all accounts, the Boys had been the “better” team without the record to show for it.

Not surprisingly, it was apparent early on that game three would be another close contest – how could it not.  The Colts would have a couple of great scoring chances off the hop, but would not find the back of the net. Instead, the home side would sneak one behind our goalie, which evaded the view of the head referee who was apparently out of position and would need to call on his linesman for confirmation; much to the chagrin of us watching in the stands. More scoring opportunities would come, only to be turned away or narrowly missed. 1-0 would hold up until the 13:40 mark of the final frame, when our keeper would be pulled in favour of an extra skater. The advantage would not be enough as the puck found its way into our empty net, forcing a do or die contest back on home ice.

Game four started only a few hours ago with everyone trying to say all the right things. “You’ve done it before Boys…and you can do it again.” But somehow, for me anyways, there was a more palpable bad feeling around this game borne out of the frustration of having outplayed, but not outlasted, the competition to this point. Many of us sincerely hoped, nay prayed, for another great comeback. Yet knew it would take a monumental effort with only one point to spare through the next three contests.  And for a fourth time in as many games, the Colts buzzed around the opposing net with nothing more than shots to show for it. One made scramble and several whacks at close range were somehow stifled by the other side’s large, agile netminder.  Instead, and as had become the norm of late, they trailed 1-0 heading into the third period. They were by no means out of it, but assuredly feeling the pressure of being 15 minutes away from elimination. A fellow spectator correctly observed and pointed out, “They need to get a bounce…bang in a dirty goal…just something to get them going.”  Yet, the dirty equalizing marker would not come.  With six minutes left in the game, a powerplay for the visitors after a questionable tripping penalty would result in a  doubling of their one goal lead.  Now the series and the season were indeed slipping away. Our young men would continue to battle. Goals would remain elusive. The final buzzer sounded and shortly thereafter I watched a few Boys (and Hockey Momma to be sure) wipe their eyes before entering the series-ending handshake line. Something may have inadvertently found its way into my tear ducts as well.  A wonderful, somewhat surprising, playoff run had ended sooner than any of us were ready for; particularly in light of this being the final season for a majority of our lads. Though it ended abruptly, these young men and the older men who led them can be proud of the way they competed and conducted themselves throughout the season.  The efforts of all are to be commended.

hockey team discussion

Yet, I said off the top we marked the almost-end of a minor hockey career. Almost because we’ve been notified there is one more tournament on the horizon. A coincidental affair tied to the Boy’s 18th year of existence. He’ll enter adulthood playing his beloved childhood game in an official minor hockey capacity one last time. Not to say there isn’t likely plenty of hockey in some other capacity in his future, but what more fitting conclusion to this chapter for him and a certain proud hockey dad?

#imahockeydad

Back to Barely, But Winning, Ways

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Fresh off of their disappointing early playoff exit, the Sharks needed to refocus their attention this week on a four-point series to qualify for the Provincial championships, a daunting task considering the opponent; one of the only teams they hadn’t beaten all year with a less than stellar 0-1-1 record. As I’ve likely bemoaned here in the past, the whole qualification process is a little misguided as some teams, depending on their geographic location, are required to face-off against several opponents while others may automatically qualify if there is no team at their level in close proximity. In the Devil’s team’s case, the number of teams in their way was just the one.

pre-game hockey strategy

Early on in game one it was obvious the Sharks’ closest nemesis would continue to be a bee in their hockey bonnet. This series would be much like the games preceding it.  The Devil and her mates would hold the balance of play, but their scoring woes of the past couple of weeks would continue. They would be able to net a single marker, which would be matched by game’s end. A win and at least a tie in the next  two contests would be necessary if the Sharks hoped to move on. Neither was expected to a simple proposition.

However, in game two a few days later, ours was the dominant side from start to finish. The net result was a slim 2-1 victory, but at least to me it felt like the team had regained some of its swagger.  The score would have been much more lopsided had it not been for some  very good netminding between the opposing pipes.

And so, there would be  an opportunity to finish the mini-war in the third game with a draw or victory.  The script in this fifth meeting of the year between the two combatants would repeat itself as the good guys on the home side would start as the aggressors, throwing plenty of pucks at the visiting keeper. Plenty of pucks, which would be turned away time and again.  At the other end of the ice, a miscue in the defensive zone was turned into a one-goal advantage, which would remain in tact until halfway through the second period when the score was finally knotted at 1-1.  A tie would be enough, but sure wasn’t welcome by those of us with weak nerves on the sidelines. A two or three-goal victory would have been far preferred. While the girls did not provide the wanted margin, they did spend the majority of the third period in the offensive zone again registering several good scoring chances. Yet, the only other goal they would score to cap the series was an empty-netter when the visiting coach realized a draw was not enough for his crew to stave off elimination. Regardless the means, our ladies are headed to the Provincial championships for a chance to avenge their league playoff defeat.

The only problem now is the Provincials are five weeks away.  There are a bunch of practices scheduled between now and then; with a few of those likely becoming exhibition games, but ya gotta figure in a month’s time a lot of players will have lost that hockey luvin’ feelin’. It will be interesting to see how long it might take some to get back up to speed. Other teams, having advanced further, or who’ve had to battle through bigger divisions will not have had a chance to get rusty. Then again perhaps ours will surprise and be chomping at the bit. In either case, we’ll be cheering them on.

The Provincials will also set the stage for 2013-14 season rep tryouts happening in our centre just one week later. On that note, I’m going to have to get back up to speed myself as I’ve managed to secure another head coaching position; a new adventure which will no doubt provide plenty of hockey and rink-related fodder for the next 12+ months.  Feel free to send along your congratulations and/or condolences as you see fit. I’m hopeful a year’s experience followed by a year in the stands will serve me well to guide my new charges through a successful season. More on my specific plans and aspirations for next season to follow. Let’s finish this one on a high-note first. Go Sharks Go!

#imahockeydad

Against All Hockey Odds & With a Little Help from the Hockey Gods

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Just when we thought we’d been put through an unmatchable emotional wringer with the Boys in their first round series, they messed with our frail hockey parent nerves again in round two.  We all knew going in it would be an uphill battle, having to upset the second place team on the heels of having ousted the first, but we were hopeful the Boys would ride the wave of momentum they’d created.

Unfortunately, what we ended up watching in game one could only best be described as a sh*t show. The previous series, which had only ended two days earlier, had drained  the kids (much as it had us watching in the stands) both emotionally and physically. They surrendered a goal on the very first shift and the match went downhill from there with the scoreboard showing a 4-1 deficit heading into the third period. Then the fun really started as an over-zealous referee decided to put his mark on an already lopsided affair.  Now I don’t want to sound like one of those biased hockey dads, but there is simply something unfair about spending 12 of the 15 minutes of a period on the penalty kill, with the majority of it being two men down. I believe the final tally was 34 minutes in penalties for the visitors to six for the home team. What was particularly frustrating was watching our Captain trying to get clarity from the head ref on why a couple of the questionable calls were being made and being demonstratively rebuffed.  He further refused to even speak with the head coach who likewise wanted to have calls explained.  This particular referee was going to do what he was going to do without question.  The bench did what they could to try to keep the Boys’ emotions in check, but their frustration got the best of them and one was ejected from the game for what were likely unsavoury comments. Another was tossed after he took a hit to the head and retaliated with his stick. Just after the game we would find out his penalty would escalate into a four game suspension; thereby removing an important component from our side who were already underdogs. To put the cherry on this mess, the goaltender took a pretty good slash up around the neck during a scrum in the crease late in the third period prompting a visit from the team trainer aka our hockey Momma. Her attempts to get the ref to acknowledge the flagrant foul likewise went unheeded as he stood at centre ice with his arms firmly crossed. She was able to grab the ear of a linesman who actually sympathized with her saying, “This guy shouldn’t even be reffing at this level,” a damning comment to be sure. After all the drama the game ended with the Boys on the wrong side of a 6-1 drubbing, but the officiating was so bad it almost lessened the sting. The Boys did not play well and would have lost the game, but I thought the third period simply fanned the flames of their determination. Surely they would bounce back with a better effort in game two.

I was not able to attend the second game as it coincided with playoff game for the Devil. However, I was told the team indeed turned in a much better effort, though they would find themselves behind two games to none after a 2-0 loss. Pretty much everyone had a feeling the end of the kids’ run was near as it would take three victories to advance. It wasn’t feeling like the tide would turn any time soon.

I was likewise not able to be at game three as the Devil and I had ventured north for a three day weekend tournament, which generated a few stories of its own to maybe be recounted at a later date.  So I waited and watched my cell phone with bated breath expecting hockey momma to report less than favourable news.  Instead, I was pleasantly surprised to hear the Boys were able to grind out a 3-1 win in enemy territory.  While faint they had injected some hope back into their quest to advance to the provincial semi-finals.

Game four was played just a couple of nights ago and started out well with the two-goal hero of game three getting the ball rolling with another marker in the first period.  But the visitors would bounce back with two goals of their own and would carry a 2-1 lead into the third period. The Boys were 15 minutes away from elimination, hadn’t played a great game to that point and an uneasy feeling made its way into my stomach. The stress induced indigestion would hold firm along with the rivals’ lead until five minutes left in the third when our side managed to bang in a rebound to knot the score at 2-2. A tie would prolong the series, though the opposing side could end it with another tie to reach the magic six point threshold.  Little did we know our side had no intention on settling for a tie. As luck, or fate, would have it, my Boy would supply the heroics. He says right before a draw to the left of the rival goaltender he went up to his centreman and said, “Tie him up, I got this,” a conversation I haven’t corroborated with his linemate, but I believe him. The centreman did as he was told and the Boy swooped in from the right wing boards to throw a shot on net; a shot which found its way under the goaltender’s left arm and into the waiting mesh behind him. The home crowd erupted in near disbelief and my pride-filled heart nearly burst from my chest.  The series was tied at two games apiece with the deciding game five scheduled a mere 17 hours later back down at the enemy rink.

Could the Boys complete the surprising, amazing comeback? No other team had beaten their counterparts three games in a row all season.  We would find out early in game five our guys were more than ready to change that trend. It was their take a quick lead again courtesy of one of their hottest scorers who’d had three goals in the previous two games. He rifled a shot over the right shoulder of the keeper to provide the quick advantage.  A couple of minutes later the Boys doubled their lead, the shaky opposing goalie was yanked  and the visiting crowd around me was ecstatic. But we all hate two goal leads, particularly in such a pressure-packed game against a tremendous foe who we suspected would not go quietly.  Early in the second period the Colts would get the insurance goal we all hoped for. Yet games of this magnitude rarely end easily. In a seeming flashback to game one, the head referee suddenly found his whistle, calling no fewer than five consecutive penalties against our side. The Boys would need to fend off several minutes on the penalty kill, near the end of which they surrendered the first goal against.  However, they counted a small win in only giving up the single. The upstart visitors would head into the third period with a still precarious two goal lead. The ice flood between periods gave us all a chance to take a breath and check our unquestionably rising blood pressure.  In the third, the ref continued to emphatically blow his whistle, only this time primarily signalling penalties against the home side who probably felt they needed to play more aggressively to survive.  Instead, one of the two-man deficits they created provided an opportunity for the underdogs to extend their lead by one; more high-fives and hollers echoed from our end of the rink.  The Boys, on the shoulders of an incredible playoff-long performance by their netminder, would successfully protect their three-goal cushion and secure their spot in the next round. The Boy, in his final year of minor hockey, has now risen to the loftiest heights of his personal career thanks to a true team effort. Though I’m pretty sure if you ask any of them, they are far from done their ascent and all have their eyes firmly fixed on a berth in the Finals.

Coincidentally, I am spinning this tale from a seat looking out onto the very ice where the Boys completed their comeback a day ago, as the Devil and her crew prepare for a do or die match on a rink only a few steps away.

Zamboni-ice

Stay tuned hockey fans (and maybe say a wee prayer to the hockey gods)…methinks, nay I know, there is plenty more drama to come.

#imahockeydad

Hockey Teams Battling and Winning Through Thick and Thin

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Momma and the Boy were set to travel a little over three hours North last weekend, where his team would compete in a qualification tournament for the Silver Stick International Tournament in the new year. The Devil and I were staying behind as she had three regular season games of her own to play (what else is new?).

When we woke up on the morning of their departure I noted he had developed a pretty nasty cough, which didn’t bode well for a weekend performance on the road. Sure enough upon arriving at their destination 10 hours later,  the cough had become a hack from an increasingly sore throat with an elevated body temperature to boot. By dinner time the Boy’s condition continued to deteriorate and a teammate was required to deliver him, a shivering lump, back to the hotel room to hopefully sleep off whatever bug he was battling in order to play two games the next day.  Momma says he didn’t sleep much at all through the night.  He would text me later saying he thought he was going to die (a little dramatic, but most women can attest to how men can be debilitated by colds and flus).  The morning arrived with the nasties solidly in tow. Having driven as far as they did, the Boy decided he would give it the old college in the first game and play it by ear after that. To complicate things, the team’s backup goalie was likewise battling pneumonia, while one other defenceman took a big hit causing a concussion in a game earlier in the week. Qualifying for the big tourney would have to be accomplished short-handed.

Momma reports the Boy struggled through the first game with a notable and pretty understandable lack of energy based on his sleep or lack thereof.  The team would take their first match, perhaps lightening the Boy’s otherwise bleak situation.  Game two, scheduled to start eight hours later would be a hit or miss proposition.  The Boy spent the entire afternoon in bed then decided on college try number two.  The team would win again, but by all accounts the Boy was a merely a warm body on the ice to spell some of his teammates (warm being the operative word).  He and Momma were hopeful another night’s sleep would help to evict his unwanted guest. Unfortunately, the second night was much like the first leaving the lad iffy for the next day’s final round-robin and hopefully semi-final games. As it turned out, he would play or at least see ice-time in the third game and one period of the semi-final before he would finally succumb to his sickness.  I’ve since been told by other parents that we should be proud of the effort he gave under the circumstances.

As is so often the case with teams and viruses, a few teammates were also starting to show symptoms similar to the Boy’s. This is generally inevitable as teammates dress in close, stanky quarters where bacteria must salivate at opportunity to feed and breed. You can almost smell and feel sickness when you enter some dressing rooms. From her behind-the-bench vantage point, Momma (the team trainer) would report via text that at least one player may have left one of his lungs on the ice after having coughed it up in the semi-final game. And yet, with all of this turmoil the team would find the strength and conviction to work its way into the Championship game. The Boy would reluctantly join his two beleaguered comrades as a cheerleader in the stands. Perhaps some of their spirit helped to propel their shortened squad to a convincing victory in the final, claiming the Championship and the desired berth in the bigger tourney down the road. However, in keeping with the health-related theme of the weekend another player joined the ranks of the sick or injured when he was charged by an opponent leaving him with a broken clavicle and damaged shoulder joint. While the first three players, including the Boy, are set to return to action this week or next, he unfortunately is facing a few weeks away from the game. Hopefully, all will be mended for the Silver Stick.  I’m pleased to report the team has already had two games since returning from the qualifier (cuz there’s no rest for the wicked) and the Boy has competed in both. Momma, on the other hand, has not been so lucky her nursemaid duties put here square in the path of the same bug that bit the Boy. She’s been incapacitated since their return. I and the Devil have thus far dodged the deadly bullet (he says, all the while knocking on whatever wood is close proximity).

Speaking of the Devil and while the other two were off on their disease-ridden adventure, I watched the Devil’s team continue their strong play, albeit not without a couple of bumps in the road and injuries of their own. Case in point bump-wise is a match against their closest geographic rival, which found them on the losing side of a 3-1 score with only three minutes left in the game.  The coach decided to pull his goalie early. This proved to be a prudent move as the girls scratched to within one goal with about 90 seconds remaining. The goalie would return to her net for the ensuing faceoff, but as soon as the puck entered the opponents end, she was yanked from her perch again. Having an extra player on the ice worked for a second time as the Devil and her mates tied the game with less than 30 ticks on the clock. The opposing side was no doubt dumbstruck by what had just happened while the good guys extended their regular season unbeaten streak to 11 games.

The Sharks next game, a couple of days later, would be against a lesser opponent, yet they would enter the third period with only a one goal lead. The coaches’ between period speeches must have been effective as the team would extend the score to 5-0 when the final buzzer sounded.

Game three in four days for the Sharks would again see them falling behind 2-1 on the scoreboard after two periods on the strength of several big saves by the other team’s goaltender. However, again they would come out in the third with all guns blazing and skate to a 3-2 victory; running their regular season record to an impressive 13-1-1. This currently puts them in first place in the standings though they’ve played a few more games than their closest rival. Their only loss to date came in the first game of the year against the same rival and they have yet to play the victor from that game a second time. The rematch is forthcoming. It will no doubt be a barometer; setting a tone for the remainder of the season.

We’ve witnessed a lot of exciting games and situations through the both the Boy’s and Devil’s seasons already. Soon it will be time for a brief holiday rest. Then we will be right back at it to close the regular year and move into league and provincial playoffs.  We’ve at least two more trips on tap as well, which always have a way of generating stories whether we like them or not.  Stay tuned hockey fans….who needs the NHL with all of this real hockey drama?

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The Body Contact in Hockey Debate

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The Body Contact in Hockey Debate

A hockey mom in Markham is looking to ban body contact in “boys” minor hockey and I find myself solidly on the fence on this one. The Boy has always played with body contact and the Devil has not, though a friend who came out to one of her recent games would likely choose to argue. He noted there is plenty of body contact in girls hockey, just not body checking and that’s why I’m Switzerland when it comes to this issue. There are also many non-body contact league options popping up around the country. There has been one in our centre for as long as I can remember; though an admittedly lower level of hockey is played there.

With both kids we’ve been very fortunate to not have seen any major injuries in 12 years. Last year it was the Devil and not the Boy who suffered a mild concussion when she “accidentally” ran into an opposing player and fell backwards on the ice. Likewise, one of the Devil’s teammates is currently out with a concussion not incurred as a result of any “body check”.  I then think back to a teammate of the Boy, a goalie from a couple of years back, who was concussed when an opposing player accidentally ran into him and caused him to fall back on the steel net he was protecting.  Hockey is a very fast game played on a slick surface and injuries like these are bound to happen. And yes, I understand taking hitting out of the game altogether will reduce the likelihood of such injuries occurring. However, I contend that we assume some risk of injury when we put our kids in any sport; be it soccer, football, basketball or gymnastics.  Not to sound too much like an old-fashioned, ill-informed hockey purist, but body checking to remove someone from the puck is part of the game. I’m fairly certain taking it out at all levels would have an effect on registration, which is already heading in the wrong direction (a fact more likely related to the escalating cost of hockey).

As the article states, most kids like the physical aspects of the game and yes I know this is not a decision to be left to the children who do not necessarily understand the risks.  Another of the Devil’s recent games was officiated in a way, which allowed for more body contact than normal and I believe most people who witnessed it would say it was one of the most entertaining games of the season thus far. 

I certainly don’t have the definitive answer on this contentious issue, but my general reaction is if you want to ensure your children have no chance of being injured, keep them out of physical sports.  I’m certain a comment like this would draw the ire of many parents.  Ultimately, we all make choices regarding the level of risk we are comfortable with introducing to our kids’ lives and we do it every time they step out of the door, onto the ice or into so many other situations in an uncertain world.

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Will Changing the Culture of Minor Hockey Reduce Injuries?

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Will Changing the Culture of Minor Hockey Reduce Injuries?

A new Canadian medical study makes recommendations related to body-checking and aggressive penalties as they relate to the rate of injuries in minor hockey. Changing the culture of the game appears to be at the root of the study, but this is something that will obviously not happen overnight and the study apparently did not discuss the feasibility of instituting changes.