My son's hockey team will experience their first tournament this weekend. Parents, kids, and coaches are excited, especially since it's a chance to face some rival teams from our league.
One of the players, our captain, moved last weekend. His mother has been so busy working nights, unpacking, and doing "mum stuff" that - gasp - she hasn't checked her email for a week. I laughed because I've gone longer without brushing my teeth than without reading my email.
This however, was no time for chuckles. She asked what the schedule was so I filled her in - season end breakfast at 9AM, then game 1 at 1PM, game 2 at 5PM.
She: "Game 2? Both games on Saturday? Oh no, then we can't do it. Saturday's my only free day."
Now it was my turn to panic.
Me: "He has to be there! He's our top scorer!"
She: "I can't give up the whole day!"
Apologies to Blackadder fans, I have a cunning plan.
Me: "If you can get him to the breakfast, he can stay with us for the weekend."
She: "Really?"
Me: "You have to ask? Consider it done."
She: "Well, your boy will come out here one weekend."
Whew. Another minor hockey crisis averted.
This defies logic. In between spending two full days at the rink, I have to cover another tournament and still find time to write four articles by Monday. There's also the matter of tracking down a few people to get quotes.
Why am I bringing another person into my home to look after in the middle of all this?
Why not? Hockey players, teammates, know all about looking after each other.
In hockey, friendships don't end when the arena doors close behind us.
Showing posts with label house league. Show all posts
Showing posts with label house league. Show all posts
Friday, April 3, 2009
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Hockey Talkie *NOT* About Hockey
Today marked was my son's final Sunday 6:30AM practice of the season. Some of the mums met up later on for coffee, cake, and conversation,or so we claimed.
If we're really honest with ourselves, the get together was because we'll miss getting out the door and back in before the sun rises all winter long. Don't be fooled by the matching goalie pads and purse; lugging hockey bags, sticks, and juggling cups of coffee from car to dressing room isn't as glamourous as it appears.
Instead of a posse of paparazzi, the first ones at the arena are greeted by things others don't experience. The rumble of the zamboni waking from its slumber. Siblings sleepily staring at the clock. A dressing room that no longer smells like the 300 people who used it the day before. Seeing breath float over ice until they become one. Being the first set of hands to touch the door latch, springing eager kids onto glistening ice.
This group has been blessed by a fantastic group of parents. Some, like DK are larks. Some, like me, are night owls. Some, like AA, are quiet. Some, like CdlA, are just a touch louder. So many differences, so much too learn.
The most important thing learned this season is that the teacher, the nurse, the restauranteur, the angel, and the writer don't need kids playing a game as an excuse to get together.
They can talk twig and biscuit like nobody's business but it's what happens far from the ice that makes parents a team.
If we're really honest with ourselves, the get together was because we'll miss getting out the door and back in before the sun rises all winter long. Don't be fooled by the matching goalie pads and purse; lugging hockey bags, sticks, and juggling cups of coffee from car to dressing room isn't as glamourous as it appears.
Instead of a posse of paparazzi, the first ones at the arena are greeted by things others don't experience. The rumble of the zamboni waking from its slumber. Siblings sleepily staring at the clock. A dressing room that no longer smells like the 300 people who used it the day before. Seeing breath float over ice until they become one. Being the first set of hands to touch the door latch, springing eager kids onto glistening ice.
This group has been blessed by a fantastic group of parents. Some, like DK are larks. Some, like me, are night owls. Some, like AA, are quiet. Some, like CdlA, are just a touch louder. So many differences, so much too learn.
The most important thing learned this season is that the teacher, the nurse, the restauranteur, the angel, and the writer don't need kids playing a game as an excuse to get together.
They can talk twig and biscuit like nobody's business but it's what happens far from the ice that makes parents a team.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Seeing Green
My son's hockey season recently started. His skating and puck handling improved tremendously after only one week of sports camp. It dawned on me that he might move up a level in house league. It was not to be. His league only has enough players for a blue team or a green team, and white seems to be a touch above his skill level. With so many first time players and skaters, it looks as though the team will stay in the green level.
At first I was a bit disappointed but quickly came to my senses. The first time I laced up my son's skates I vowed to never, ever become one of "those parents" - the ones who shove instead of support, who guilt instead of guide, who pounce instead of praise. For a few minutes, upset that my spawn had gone down a level instead of up, I became one of "those parents" and was disgusted with myself.
House league is about the sheer fun and joy of hockey, at least it should be. The kids on the team who had never skated until tryouts deserve to play Canada's game as much as the ones who were seemingly born into blades. House league should never be about what colour level our kids are in; it has to be about learning the basics and enjoying the game.
This season I'll be seeing green and loving every minute of it.
At first I was a bit disappointed but quickly came to my senses. The first time I laced up my son's skates I vowed to never, ever become one of "those parents" - the ones who shove instead of support, who guilt instead of guide, who pounce instead of praise. For a few minutes, upset that my spawn had gone down a level instead of up, I became one of "those parents" and was disgusted with myself.
House league is about the sheer fun and joy of hockey, at least it should be. The kids on the team who had never skated until tryouts deserve to play Canada's game as much as the ones who were seemingly born into blades. House league should never be about what colour level our kids are in; it has to be about learning the basics and enjoying the game.
This season I'll be seeing green and loving every minute of it.
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