I hate missing games

Hockey mom and the Devil left on a four+ hour trip to Windsor for a tournament this weekend.  I helped load the van with all of the suitcases, bags, coolers, equipment and various other paraphernalia female hockey players (and their mom’s) need to travel.  Unsurprisingly, it was a fair bit more than the Boy and I needed last weekend.  The ladies had companions for the ride, another player and her mother, so the van was loaded to the hilt with female accessories times two.  Hockey mom, seemingly travelling to a foreign land, was equipped with a stack of Google maps to get her from our driveway to the hotel, from the hotel to the rinks, from the rinks to the hotel and from the hotel to dinner and back again (I will no doubt pay for this wee sentence). And off they went on their weekend of fun and competition. 

The Boy and I were left behind because he had a practice two nights ago and has a game tonight here in town.  So far that’s meant Mucho Burrito and Big Chris BBQfor dinner the past two nights.  We are roving bachelors with unlimited options.  Last night I sat on the couch to watch the Rangers knock the Yankees out of the major league baseball playoffs (Yippee!), while the Boy played Call of Duty on Xbox Live with his hockey buddies.  Yup, we really shook it up.  We painted the town red.

Part of the problem with having two rep hockey players is they are most often going in two different directions. As such, we miss a bunch of games, which can be frustrating.  Last year, the hockey mom had an idea that someone should record and broadcast all games online (like on YouTube or something) so parents and friends who weren’t able to attend for whatever reason, could still see their kids play.  Not sure that anyone would actually pay for that service, but it’s one that I wish was available this weekend.  If I had a little capital and thought the idea might work this would be perfect job for me.  I’ve always said I just need to find a way to get someone to pay me to watch my kids play hockey.  Hell, I’d even watch other kids play hockey.

The Devil’s first game was yesterday at 10:30am so we texted briefly pre-game.  I sent along typical words of encouragement — “Skate hard!” “Have fun!” “Score me a goal!” “Give 110% out there!” “Listen to your coach!” ”Keep your head up!” “Win the battles!” If it were the Boy, I’d add in “Crush somebody!” in a purely positive sense.  So I may overdo it a little.  But I really would rather be there watching and shouting all the same things from the stands or from behind the bench.  Instead, I had to try to focus on my regular job while waiting anxiously for a score to arrive on my cellphone.  Not the optimal way to experience a hockey game. The score did arrive in a text from hockey mom, about 20 mins after when I thought the game should have ended.  This was most likely because most rinks, with their metal and concrete construction, kill mobile reception.  I know this because I’m often challenged with trying to get NHL hockey scores, NFL football scores or work-related emails when the Boy or Devil are playing. What can I say? I multitask even at the arena.

The text I received said “1-0 for the bad guys”.  My heart sunk a little as you want them to win every game. The next text said “They had a good first period, a crappy second period and an ok third period.”  Followed by “She’s a little upset because the goal was scored against her line.”  And my heart sunk a little farther. I fired back with “Ah well..get them in the next one.”

I would have to go through the whole thing again a few hours later around game two, only this time the text read “2-0 for the good guys”. Ahhhh, that’s better. Now the girls have some confidence and momentum to take into the next contest.  The good thing about this tournament is they will go into a quarter-final round regardless of their round robin record. But you do want to go into those quarters with a winning record so you get a lighter opponent in your quest to move on to the next round.

Game three is starting in 10 mins against a very close rival from our league.  Funny how sometimes we will travel great distances to play in tournaments against teams that are based right around the corner from us.  But I digress.  I’ve already texted the Devil a few times this morning with the obligatory words of encouragement.  Her last to me was “Thanks. I’ll text you after the game. Love you. Bye.”  That will have to do, though I’d rather a string of shift-by-shift texts or maybe a live online video stream of the game, complete with play-by-play and colour commentary. I’d even take just an audio feed.  Maybe hockey mom was on to something.

#imahockeydad

Game three update from Windsor

I know y’all are waiting with bated breath like I have been for the past hour and twenty minutes.  The latest text reads 2-1 Bad guys but they played very well and the goal was hers (the Devil’s that is).  On to the quarter finals at 4:45 with a record of 1-2; with both losses by 1 goal.  Anything can happen in girls hockey. I will have the fingers, toes and several other body parts crossed for a win. I’ll send along all the words of encouragement I can then wait semi-patiently to hear the outcome. Bahhhhhhhhh!

#imahockeydad

I hate missing games

Hockey mom and the Devil left on a four+ hour trip to Windsor for a tournament this weekend.  I helped load the van with all of the suitcases, bags, coolers, equipment and various other paraphernalia female hockey players (and their mom’s) need to travel.  Unsurprisingly, it was a fair bit more than the Boy and I needed last weekend.  The ladies had companions for the ride, another player and her mother, so the van was loaded to the hilt with female accessories times two.  Hockey mom, seemingly travelling to a foreign land, was equipped with a stack of Google maps to get her from our driveway to the hotel, from the hotel to the rinks, from the rinks to the hotel and from the hotel to dinner and back again (I will no doubt pay for this wee sentence). And off they went on their weekend of fun and competition. 

The Boy and I were left behind because he had a practice two nights ago and has a game tonight here in town.  So far that’s meant Mucho Burrito and Big Chris BBQfor dinner the past two nights.  We are roving bachelors with unlimited options.  Last night I sat on the couch to watch the Rangers knock the Yankees out of the major league baseball playoffs (Yippee!), while the Boy played Call of Duty on Xbox Live with his hockey buddies.  Yup, we really shook it up.  We painted the town red.

Part of the problem with having two rep hockey players is they are most often going in two different directions. As such, we miss a bunch of games, which can be frustrating.  Last year, the hockey mom had an idea that someone should record and broadcast all games online (like on YouTube or something) so parents and friends who weren’t able to attend for whatever reason, could still see their kids play.  Not sure that anyone would actually pay for that service, but it’s one that I wish was available this weekend.  If I had a little capital and thought the idea might work this would be perfect job for me.  I’ve always said I just need to find a way to get someone to pay me to watch my kids play hockey.  Hell, I’d even watch other kids play hockey.

The Devil’s first game was yesterday at 10:30am so we texted briefly pre-game.  I sent along typical words of encouragement — “Skate hard!” “Have fun!” “Score me a goal!” “Give 110% out there!” “Listen to your coach!” ”Keep your head up!” “Win the battles!” If it were the Boy, I’d add in “Crush somebody!” in a purely positive sense.  So I may overdo it a little.  But I really would rather be there watching and shouting all the same things from the stands or from behind the bench.  Instead, I had to try to focus on my regular job while waiting anxiously for a score to arrive on my cellphone.  Not the optimal way to experience a hockey game. The score did arrive in a text from hockey mom, about 20 mins after when I thought the game should have ended.  This was most likely because most rinks, with their metal and concrete construction, kill mobile reception.  I know this because I’m often challenged with trying to get NHL hockey scores, NFL football scores or work-related emails when the Boy or Devil are playing. What can I say? I multitask even at the arena.

The text I received said “1-0 for the bad guys”.  My heart sunk a little as you want them to win every game. The next text said “They had a good first period, a crappy second period and an ok third period.”  Followed by “She’s a little upset because the goal was scored against her line.”  And my heart sunk a little farther. I fired back with “Ah well..get them in the next one.”

I would have to go through the whole thing again a few hours later around game two, only this time the text read “2-0 for the good guys”. Ahhhh, that’s better. Now the girls have some confidence and momentum to take into the next contest.  The good thing about this tournament is they will go into a quarter-final round regardless of their round robin record. But you do want to go into those quarters with a winning record so you get a lighter opponent in your quest to move on to the next round.

Game three is starting in 10 mins against a very close rival from our league.  Funny how sometimes we will travel great distances to play in tournaments against teams that are based right around the corner from us.  But I digress.  I’ve already texted the Devil a few times this morning with the obligatory words of encouragement.  Her last to me was “Thanks. I’ll text you after the game. Love you. Bye.”  That will have to do, though I’d rather a string of shift-by-shift texts or maybe a live online video stream of the game, complete with play-by-play and colour commentary. I’d even take just an audio feed.  Maybe hockey mom was on to something.

#imahockeydad

Lessons Learned – Part Deux

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

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

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

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

Cmon Stripes

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

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

Tough tests…lessons learned

The Devil’s team was offered a spot in a tournament this past weekend with three teams rated above them (level A vs. BB). The tournament was in need of an additional team and it was decided that this would provide a good barometer for the girls to measure themselves against.  Before the tournament, the coach explained that there were no expectations around winning, but rather the goal was to understand the level at which A teams are playing; then to strive to get to that level by season’s end.

I’ve been asked to join the coaching staff and have gladly accepted. This weekend I was able to get some great insights into the make-up of the team and its players.  This is something you can only really get from interacting with them in the dressing room pre- and post-game as well as on the bench during the game. This weekend taught me a lot about the character of this team.  After only a few games I am marveling at the maturity and character of many of the players; no doubt a product of their age and experience.  Each year brings a progression as it rightly should.

The first game of the weekend was against the tournament’s strongest team. The Devil would unfortunately miss the game along with two other players due to injury (as per the previous post), but her cohorts competed valiantly in a 4-0 loss.  While they were outshot by a fair margin and kept in the game by a brilliant goaltending performance, the depleted squad had several scoring chances of their own.  The score could have just as easily been 4-2 or 3-1.  The coach rightly heaped praise on his short-handed charges who were buoyed for their next two tests against two slightly weaker teams a day later.

In game two, the girls came out strong again and took the game directly to their counterparts.  The score was deadlocked at zeros at the end of the second period and a win or tie was certainly in sight.  Unfortunately, the third period saw the Devil and her teammates fall behind a step and soon a goal, followed by three others.  Another 4-0 loss that felt like anything but a 4-0 loss. In everyone’s eyes they had held their own for a solid 3/4 of the game. 

Undeterred, the team looked forward to game three against what was assumed to be the weakest of the three opponents they would face in the tournament.  But this third team had felt the sting of two losses and came out determined to stop the streak there.  Our girls, on the other hand, seemingly succumbed to the physical and mental burden of the the previous two games. Though hopes were high based on the perceived level of the competition, the end result would be eerily familiar; 4-0 for the wrong team.

Throughout the tournament, the head coach buoyed the girls confidence and put the tournament in perspective. They had played hard, had not given up and at no time looked out of place against these “superior” teams.  As you looked around the dressing room after the third game, you could see the players were tired, but not defeated. The results, not the scores, of these three games bode well for this team. They already know they can compete at a relatively high level.  With practice and commitment they will only get stronger. We are all looking forward to what this team is able to accomplish.

To round out the storied weekend, the team would play one more, previously scheduled, game against a team they will be facing in their regular league. In this fourth game in three days, we saw a much different team than the one who had competed the previous two days. They were a step slower.  Decisions were made a 1/2 second later, which in hockey generally leads to turnovers and missed opportunities. They also came up against a stellar goaltending performance from the other side. The final was 3-0.  For those keeping score, our girls were 0 for the weekend, but it was not for a lack of scoring chances. This too shall pass as it so often does in the ebbs and waves of hockey in general.

A practice was originally scheduled for tonight, but was fittingly deferred until later in the week.  The announcement of the rescheduled practice at the conclusion of game four was met with several sighs of relief.  The team knows it needs home for a rest before embarking on the busy schedule that is the regular season with tournaments sprinkled in between.  We will have that schedule in the next few days. The fun stuff is just beginning.

#imahockeydad