Shoot, Shot, SHOOOOOOOTTTTTTT! Good God what’s wrong with
that kid! Ah the refrains of an educated and understanding hockey parent! Or,
maybe not.
I have been away for a bit. Couldn’t play hockey because I have
been sick for the past 6 weeks. The time off got the grey cells working, regarding the state of parenting
in youth sports, mostly hockey, but really you can plug in any support specific
nuance into this narrative.
I love this game at every level and the experience that this
great game provides for kids, adults and fans. As a kid it teaches humility,
teamwork, discipline and too many other great qualities to list here. As an
adult returning to the game it taught me all of those as well as enabling me to
view life through the lens of a kid. Trust me, my goals now are to be
semi-proficient for the 50+ league, not to be the next Bossy. Working with
beginners and having a daughter playing has been an interesting experience,
that has opened my eyes to the seedy underbelly of rivalry, unrealistic parental
expectations and intensity from opposing fans (ie; Parents)
Let me start by saying this. WHAT THE HECK is wrong with
hockey parents? I played as a kid, took a break and play now. As a kid, I
chalked up the intensity to the bar at most rinks and the amount of beer that was
around in the 70’s and the love of a good brawl at professional games. It was
woven into the fabric of my hockey journey. I can’t tell you how many games I
was carted home by a well-meaning mom or dad that had just a few moments before
looked like a slobbering beast of intensity, but it was fed by drink, not over
expectations of the child. It was seemingly a more innocent time.
First, for those that haven’t played the game, it is
expensive. No really, cripplingly so. Ice time, refs, hotels, gear, replacing
gear, pressure to have the best gear is a multi billion-dollar industry. So, parents
I get it! But expecting your kid to be the next Crosby or Hillary Knight is a
farce. Honestly you stand a much, much better chance, statistically speaking, of
death by a Pickachu stuffy hurled from a moving car, causing decapitation. Don’t
get me wrong, I want what’s best for all kids, but I don’t think that the
professionalization of youth sports is what’s best.
With the removal of drink from the equation, people just
need to chill out. Take a breath and enjoy the fruits of your labor. Hey,
entitled mom, quit telling me how your kid was knocked down because my kid ran
into her. Have you spent any time with a weapon/tool in your hands on a frozen
surface, holding on by a knife edge strapped to your feet? No, then grab some
wood! Siddown! You are on a time out.
Stuff happens at an alarmingly quick rate
out there on the other side of the boards. Oh, and by the by, not because she’s
my daughter, but because stuff happens so fast, your daughter’s teammate
unintentionally slew-footed your daughter. So, quit interrupting my
conversation with other parents to reassert your viewpoint. Too much coffee?
Please take your rink rage and get a therapist. Our kids are 9! NINE! So, get a
grip, set an example and quit banging on the glass.
Save that for the pros and I’ll be right by your side! If
the Isles are playing the Rangers, it’ll always be the fault of the Rangers ,and
the refs will always be against us.
But for now, revel in the kid that can’t hold his stick
correctly, but still has an ear to ear grin or the girl that has ankles that
look like right angles, but plays with the heart of a lion, or the goalie that
misses the shot from the blue line because he’s waving to his parents. Because
he’s finally wearing all of that gear. Expertise will come, let them enjoy the
game for what it is, the best game that you can name. Take care, be well and enjoy life. See you
soon!
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