As I sit here
with tears rolling down my cheeks and a huge ache in my heart you would think
that the world was ending. For those of
you that have experienced the end of your child’s minor hockey career you will
understand.
Who would
have thought that when my 10 year old son bounded in the door one day after
school and announced that he wanted to try hockey that in that moment our lives
would change forever. Three years ago
amid many tears I survived the end of his minor hockey career as he moved on to
university. Of course he had a younger
sister that wanted to do everything her big brother did. When he started hockey she wanted to start
too. Ballet, majorettes and gymnastics
could suck it! Year one was the CanSkate program at age 6 before moving on to
hockey the following year in novice.
Hockey
started out being about figuring out where all the equipment goes on (when the
bag was empty I felt triumphant!), watching your kid learn how to stay on two
feet while moving forward, and then of course buying her a slushie after the
game or practice. Arena slushies are
just a big heavenly mess of ice and simulated fruit flavours of sugary delight.
A staple really when you become a part of the minor hockey world. The ultimate prize for a young player.
Your local arena becomes like a second home and you feel that sense of hometown pride and comfort just stepping into the rink. The smells and sights and familiar faces are welcoming and warm like extended family. (It is still her favorite rink ever.) The zamboni driver is your neighbour’s nephew, the girl at the snack bar is also your babysitter and the smoker hanging around the front door is somebody’s grandpa.
Then you
start to travel around to other arenas in your local area. Then your child’s team starts to go to
tournaments where hotel stays are involved.
As the years pass these are often outside of the province or even the
country. Miles and miles are added to
your vehicle. Driving several hours to a
game or practice becomes no big deal.
You just do it. Your life
revolves around those times. A two hour
practice gives you time to zip out of the rink and do some speed-shopping for
groceries but still watch enough of the practice that you can semi-fake it when
your kid asks you, “Mom did you see when I ….”
It goes without saying that the amount of groceries purchased on your
great escape is limited by trunk space less the number of hockey bags to be
crammed into it. When you need a new
vehicle you first examine how many kids and hockey bags can fit into it. That and gas mileage are top vehicle
requirements.
Team fees start to increase as your child gets older and the level of hockey becomes more competitive.
The cost of equipment rises
too but you just keep paying. Somehow
the money comes from somewhere but you just don’t take too much time to think
about it or you might suffer heart failure. When a stick breaks during a game a little part of you dies inside as the other parents look at you with a pitiful "better you than me" glance in your direction. Don't worry it will all work out in the end.
Hockey weekends away become your “vacation” because you don’t have the
time or money for anything else. But
it’s okay because you love it. Anything
for hockey. People outside the hockey
world think you are crazy. This is
especially true when you parade around in your team colours in the form of a
felt ruffle scarf and a cowbell in your hand.
Oh and you start to miss work.
Days and days of it over the years.
You know what I’m saying folks and seriously could we all not write the
best excuse book ever? Completely
foolproof.
Those hotel stays were just the best vacations weren’t they? Especially if you were the parent on lifeguard duty at the stifling hot pool area. But the kids love the hotel part of away weekends! They could run around the hotel with pretty much no adult supervision and get into all kinds of shenanigans while the parents were doing the same thing. Mini-stick hockey was all the rage in the hallways. Tough luck for the regular guests that may have been mixed in amongst us in the hallway from hell. Now that we are at the end of it all nobody remembers the wins and the losses on those weekends but everyone remembers the time hotel security had to be called because the Moms were getting out of control in Sudbury. Or the time the Dads were lucky to not get deported from Vermont for their crazy high jinks. Or the many times the Captain’s Cup challenge sailed into port and became overly boisterous. Or the time when we discovered two of the quiet Moms were actually closet shooter girls. Oh yeah and the Detroit Hard Rock Café will never be the same.
And oh the
shopping we have done! Well the first
few years anyway. Until we all finally realized
that the malls were sucking about as much money from us as the team fees. Better to just enjoy the delights of the
hotel rather than shop every single weekend.
No room in the trunk what with all the hockey bags, beer coolers and
kids. But we know the malls from North Bay to Mississauga to Rochester to
Beantown and back. We could attack those
malls between games like no other shoppers.
And we had the packing down to a fine art with every nook and cranny
carefully filled with all of our crap.
Sometimes you might be with one of your hockey wives which increased the shopping
bags exponentially. Sometimes it was a blur of hotels and roadside stops with
your own husband or someone else’s husband.
Ahhh the relationships we have had.
Soon there
were summer camps and spring hockey teams and all sorts of other hockey-related
training. It became all-consuming but we
never really noticed because it was what we did. We lived and breathed hockey quite literally.
That unique hockey smell that we all know and love will forever be burned into
our nostrils and our vehicles and certain corners of our homes and garages. The spring/summer hockey days when equipment
could be dumped outside to dry and bake in the warm sunshine were simply
magical.
The memories and stories of our minor hockey years are to be cherished and embellished over time. There were wins and losses to be sure and there were tears of joy and heartache along the way. Friendships were made and yes some girls were lost to other sports, jobs, boyfriends or school itself (gasp). Team mates become best friends and sisters. Our eyes were opened to all sorts of human behavior including the good, the bad and the ugly. Countless volunteer hours from parents, coaches, trainers, statisticians, managers, website updaters, referees, time clockers, tournament organizers and all manner of things in between have been offered up and accepted gratefully by parents and players alike. Siblings have spent hours being dragged around arenas from coast to coast. What fun we have all had! And now it seems for us it has come to an end.
Although this is the end of minor hockey for us, it is the beginning of the next chapter. My heart is sad but also overjoyed that for the next four years we will still be able to watch her play NCAA division 1 university hockey. So we can still hang on for a while longer. Bittersweet times for us parents. Life as we have known it is taking a dramatic turn. Whatever will we do with all that extra time and money?! Curling? Darts? Perhaps a vacation? Someone said to me recently that now we can have our life back. What does that even mean? This IS our life.
I will always
and forever see her seven year old face lit up with excitement for an early
morning practice or game, completely ready to go at least an hour before it was
necessary to be, yelling at the entire house that we had better get up and be
ready to go! All because she just couldn’t
wait to step on the ice. The love of the game is part of her. I believe that
little girl will always be there, leading her grown-up self on to new
adventures as she heads off to university.
We wouldn’t want it any other way and will always be right there by her
side cheering her on. When she looks up
at us in the stands with a smile on her face we will know that all is right
with the world and our hearts will rest easy filled with pride and love at this wonderful
hockey life.
My daughter played her last minor hockey games yesterday. She scored three goals and got two penalties. Not a bad way to wrap it all up. The last thing I always say to her before each and every game is to work hard and have fun. And she always does. I have been telling her that with a kiss on the cheek before every game since she was seven years old and I told her again yesterday. She is 18 now and I know that as always, she did work hard and she did have fun. So for that, when she gets home from her road trip today, I know exactly what I am going to do. I am going to take her to the local arena and buy her a slushie. Because it was always about the slushies.
I sure hope they have slushies at Boston University…
