The Game

For me, "The Game" is hockey. I have played and coached many different sports in my life, but ice hockey is my first love. I have written and thought carefully about the importance of hockey in my life. Some of my previous posts, notably The Game I Love and Riding the Coaching Rollercoaster have explored the role hockey plays in who I am and how I approach my life.

Recently, I came across this post on Facebook:

Hockey for 5 year olds is just that-for 5 year olds. It is about learning to be part of a team, building confidence, developing skills, and having fun. It isn't about trying out for the WHL or NHL. Feeling bad for a little boy that had his first hockey team experience in TinyMites crushed when his dad was told they had to let one kid go, and he was the weakest link. Also nice that the dad was informed with the child standing right there. I don't think that is what a first year hockey experience is about for FIVE YEAR OLDS! Maybe I'm wrong or a big sappy mother, but that seems like a sure fire way to hurt feelings and stomp on self esteem while turning a child off of team sport activities. Glad it wasn't my little boy:(

When I hear things like this, it makes me sad and incredibly pissed off. Stories like this taint the reputation of minor hockey. The comments that followed this post had two themes. The first theme was "There is no way this should happen in minor hockey." The second theme was "That is exactly why minor hockey is flawed."

I have a difficult time understanding how people can be so incredibly stupid about hockey. How can one child be let go from a 5 year old hockey team? I can imagine the counter arguments - ice time, number of jerseys, minor hockey guidelines, but none of them should get in the way of the dreams of a little boy.

At this age level, kids develop at very different rates. Any adult who "cuts" a 5 year old should have NOTHING to do with the development of young hockey players. At this age, making cuts and exclusions reflects a desire for team success ahead of individual development. Anyone who coaches young athletes with an eye for team success ahead of individual progress needs a serious reality check.

I can say with absolute certainty that Hockey Canada, Hockey Alberta, and anyone with a shred of common sense and decency would consider this situation an abomination. Anyone who coaches young hockey players should do everything they can to make kids love the game. Period.

I would love to have a conversation with any coach who "cut" a five year old child. Even better, I would love to go one on one with him on the rink and see what a hero he really is.

Great Canadian Gordons

There was a time in this fair land when the railroad did not run

When the wild majestic mountains stood alone against the sun

Long before the white man and long before the wheel

When the green dark forest was too silent to be real

I am fervently proud to be Canadian. I have one tattoo, a maple leaf, and I can't think of anything else I want to permanently etch on my body. By the time I have finished writing this post, I may be ready to get GORDON as my second tattoo. It is interesting that three great Canadians and many great Canadian things are linked to the name Gordon. In no particular order, here they are...

Gordon Downie
Gord Downie is best known as the lead singer of The Tragically Hip, my favorite Canadian band. Their music is laced with references to Canadian culture. Hockey themes abound, most notably "Fireworks" celebration of the 1972 Summit Series, the disappearance of Toronto Maple Leafs defenceman Bill Barilko in "Fifty Mission Cap" and a dirge about being a goaltender in "The Lonely End of the Rink". Their lyrics celebrate notable Canadians like Bobby Orr, Pierre Trudeau and David Milgaard. Distinctly Canadian terms like toonie, CBC, prime minister and the "crown" pepper their lyrics. Even Donald S. Cherry makes an appearance as a chicken delivery man in the video for "The Darkest One".

The Hip's songs tend to mention Canadian places. Niagara Falls, Bobcaygeon, Toronton, Kingston, Cape Spear, Clayoquot Sound, Sault Ste Marie, Northumberland Strait, Churchill, Thompson, Lake Memphragog, Isle Aux Morts. I'm not completely sure, but I have a feeling that "The Paris of the Prairies" mentioned in "Wheat Kings" may be Saskatoon. I am certain that many essays and perhaps Master's theses have been written about the Hip's connection to Canada through music. Beyond the stage, Downie and the band have had cameos in uniquely Canadian television shows like Corner Gas and Trailer Park Boys.

For me, though, the quintessential Gordon Downie moment is the role he plays in Michael McGowan's film, One Week. The film is profoundly Canadian as it follows its protagonist, who has terminal cancer, on a motorcycle pilgrimage from Toronto to Tofino. Downie has a brief role as a man who meets the doomed Tyler and shares his experience of battling cancer. When I think of Canadian icons, people who have helped develop my generation's Canadian identity, I think of people like Terry Fox and Rick Hansen. When it comes to people who reaffirmed my love of all things Canadian, I cannot think of a more iconic figure than Gordon Downie.

Gordon Lightfoot
When I was a young boy, very few of my parent's record albums interested me. Albums like John Denver's Greatest Hits and Creedence Clearwater Revival's Green River that contained songs I liked to play. It was Gordon Lightfoot's Sundown, however, that fascinated me more than anything. I'm not sure if it was the cover photo of a very healthy looking, curly haired and bearded Lightfoot sitting cross legged. It was one of the few albums my parents owned that included lyrics and I loved to read them over and over again. Most likely, I was drawn in to the stories the album told. I played the title track repeatedly and sang loudly when my parents were in a different room, "Sundown, you better take care/If I find you've been creeping round my back stairs".

I include Gordon Lightfoot on this list because he is one of the most successful Canadian singer/songwriters, ever. Sundown was number one on the Billboard charts and his music has a following across the world. To me, his most impressive songs are the ones that chronicle Canadian stories. "Canadian Railway Trilogy" is Canada's definitive epic poem because it tells the tale of a watershed event in our culture. Like the epic poems of the Greeks, Lightfoots's song celebrates the heroic contributions of the men who gave their lives to fulfills Sir John A Macdonald's dream. Any song that is commissioned by the CBC to commemorate Canada's centennial has to be special!

Perhaps my favorite Gordon Lightfoot song is "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald." It tells a true story of a ship that sinks on Lake Superior, the big lake the Chippewa once called Gitche Gumee. Many people, including Gordon Lightfoot himself, feel that this is his best-written song ever. It is a haunting tale and a tribute to the courage of people who sail the Great Lakes for a living.

Gordon Howe
I have a signed poster of Gordie Howe and Wayne Gretzky in my basement. It is one of my favorite pieces of hockey memorabilia because it is actually signed by Mr. Hockey and #99 themselves. The photo was taken at the WHA All Star Game in 1978. I love this photo because it captures the end and beginning of two distinct eras in hockey. It was taken in the twilight of the upstart WHA. In 1979, both Howe and Gretzky moved on the NHL. Gordie's amazing career ended with a final year in the NHL and Gretzky's Oilers began a hockey dynasty that would change the game forever.

Gordie Howe is the consummate Canadian. He was born in a small town, grew up in the Paris of the Prairies and learned the value of a hard day's work from his father. He left home at 16 to pursue his career. He played in the NHL during five different decades, won four Stanley Cups, and played in more professional hockey games than anyone ever will play. He set a personal best for points when he was 40 years old. He got the chance to play on a line with two of his sons (a dream I hope to fulfill when my boys get older).

Gordie Howe was tough, skilled, and humble beyond belief. The first professional hockey games I got to watch were WHA games in Edmonton. At first, I wanted to cheer against him because I was an Oilers fan. As the game wore on, though, I was amazed at how good the old guy with the grey hair was. I had no idea that he was actually playing in his 31st consecutive season of professional hockey. When I think about it now, I am absolutely amazed. Gordie Howe's story is a real life storybook for many Canadian kids. Throughout his career, he was an incredible ambassador for our country and an impeccable role model.

There are some honorable mentions to this list. Gordon Pinsent, Gordon's Canadian Gin, Gord Bamford, Gordon from Sesame Street and the Barenaked Ladies first album, Gordon all deserve mention (and perhaps further exploration).

Canada is a vast country full of inspirational people. For me, these three men represent so much of what is great about Canada. Do yourself a favor this Canada Day. Listen to a little Lightfoot, rock out to a lot of Hip and try your own version of a Gordie Howe Hat Trick - score a goal, help out and play hard. When you are done playing, drink some beer to celebrate your country and your accomplishments.

You'll be happy you did!

Riding the Coaching Rollercoaster

I spend most of the winter (and a significant portion of my summer) in a hockey rink. It has been this way since I was seven years old and I would not trade it for anything. As I noted in The Game I Love, hockey is a huge part of who I am. For the past several years, I have not walked into the arena sporting only a bag slung over my shoulder and a stick in the other hand.

As a coach, I walk in with both hands full. Depending on the day and my reason for being there, I might carry a bag of pucks, my hockey stick, a mug of coffee, my coaching bag (skates, gloves, helmet), a black binder full of things I think I need but usually don't get to, a dry-erase marker, a white board, lost and found items from the last game or practice, fundraising forms and money, to name a few things.

The gear I bring to the rink has changed, but my reason for being there really has not. I love hockey. I don't come to the rink to win championships, pad my ego or live vicariously through my kids. I hope that every player I coach wants to play hockey for the rest of their life. I hope my players learn something about themselves. I hope they improve their skills and at the end of the season, I hope they miss our team because every team should be something special.

It takes courage to coach a team. Ultimately, a team's success reflects directly on its coach. I love the tongue in cheek adage "I coached great. The team played lousy!" However, it rarely plays out this way. Good coaches are willing to take all of the blame and deflect all of the praise. When things go poorly for a team, people want answers. I firmly believe that no one begins a game hoping to lose. Some days, the team is not good enough. Other days, the puck simply does not bounce the way it should. Occasionally, your team can do no wrong. The outcome of most games has little to do with what a coach puts into the game. As a season progresses, however, the success of the team has to reflect upon the coach. Even though a team's success (or lack therof) might have nothing to do with coaching, the coach ultimately faces questions, second guesses and criticism.

I am a teacher and I believe in teaching the game to my players. Basic skills take precedence over team tactics. I have coached every level from initiation to college and I can guarantee that any team capable of executing basic skills (skating, passing, shooting) at a high level of speed and accuracy will do well against any opponent. I know that there is usually an implementation dip or delayed reward, which means that most of my teams take a while to excel. For me, it's a worthwhile tradeoff because developing basic skills benefits all players.

Most of what I have addressed so far has to do with the science of coaching. I really believe that it is important for coaches to be able to pass on the correct techniques and skills to their players. That said, there is a definite art to coaching that cannot be overlooked. When I think of the best coaches I had in minor hockey, the thing that stands out is their ability to say the right thing at the right time.
Not only did they know how to make individual players feel good, they knew what to say to the team to motivate them. The lessons I learned from men like my dad, Rusty Climie and Gary Williams stick with me to this day. These men always mixed positive reinforcement with correction. Today, my approach to individual players and the entire team is always guided by these amazing role models. I was fortunate to have the best coaching of my hockey career when I was in Pee Wee and Bantam. The lessons I learned from those coaches have remained with me, not just in hockey, but in life.

The rewards of coaching are immense. When I hear young players call "Hi, Coach Ted" several years after I was their coach, it truly fills my heart. My basement is full of pictures, hockey sticks and cards signed by the teams I have coached. I have coached a few very successful teams and a few that could not find the formula for success. Regardless of a team's record, I look back on the memories from each season with great pleasure.

As much as I remember the great things, the not-so-great things stick with me, too. Coaching stays with a person. It can keep you up at night, distract you from your work and affect your personal life. At the worst of times, coaching makes selfless people question themselves. There is a downside that can be unsettling and heartbreaking.

The hockey season is drawing to a close, and I think it is really important to reach out to anyone who  gives their free time to coaching a team. I have been incredibly fortunate in Red Deer Minor Hockey to have amazing assistant coaches and managers. My opposing coaches have, with very few exceptions, been tremendous colleagues. If you have not already done so, take a moment to personally thank your team's coaches. They willingly get on a roller coaster three or four days a week and ask for nothing in return.

The Game I Love

Playoff beards. Dropping the flippers. Right skate first. Warm up tunes. Post game snacks and rehydration. Chirping the other team's goalie. Superstitions. Early morning practices. Freezing in the stands or on the bench. Riding the pine. Arena burgers. Going end to end. Road trips!!!

If you have played, watched or coached hockey, I'm sure you know what I mean. How does it get better than hockey? I can really remember the last 35 years of my life. I've been involved with hockey for each of those years. I've been concussed, elated, suspended, protected, selected, responsible, irresponsible. I've been a leader, a prospect, washed up, a coach, a teacher, a parent and a diehard fan. I've spilled buckets of blood and tankers of sweat. Hockey paid for my university education, but it still cost my parents thousands of dollars. It is full of paradoxes but it is oh, so perfect in so many ways.

With the possible exception of my family and fishing, nothing gets me more excited than hockey. The speed, the violence and the skill of the game set it apart from every other sport. Skating is not natural for the vast majority of people in the world. Anyone can throw, hit, or kick a ball. Very few can execute a pivot from forwards to backwards, throw a head fake and crank a tight turn on skates. Even fewer can pull off a toe drag at top speed, freeze the d-man and snap it over the goalie's shoulder. Fewer still can stack the pads, flash leather for a glove save and stretch a butterfly while doing the splits. Hockey is special. It is Canada's little secret that only a few people around the world really understand. Hockey is to sport what The Tragically Hip is to music.

I spent the past weekend watching the western Canadian Junior B hockey championship tournament, the Keystone Cup. The host team, the Sherwood Park Knights, is a team I captained and coached. I have many great memories associated with hockey and so many of them involve the Knights. As a good friend of mine pointed out, the young men who play for the Knights have no illusions. They understand what every kid who dreams of playing in the NHL eventually understands. Very few are selected and even fewer make a living in this game. When you play Junior B, you stop playing for yourself and your parents and really start playing for the guys beside you in the dressing room. You play to be around the game and hang out with the team. If you work hard enough, you get a chance to win your league, play in provincials or, if you are really fortunate, play for an even bigger prize like the Keystone Cup.

On Saturday, I volunteered and worked security for the tournament, which meant that I spent my entire day in the Sherwood Park Arena. I watched 5 games between 6 different teams. What struck me was that, no matter where the team was from, the differences were minimal. The language, the energy, the intensity, the look, even the smell of each team was incredibly similar. The players, coaches, fans and volunteers for each team were passionate about hockey. They grew up playing the game and they all knew that this tournament was, for the majority of the players, their last chance to win something big.

My nephew played for the host team like his dad and his uncle. The Knights proved they belonged in the tournament and made it to the gold medal game. The arena was packed and the energy was unbelievable. The host team scored the first goal, but was not able to hold on to the lead. They hit posts, crossbars, and had many chances to even the score. When the buzzer sounded to end the game, the cheers of the winning team were drowned out by the sound of hearts breaking throughout the arena.

When I got to my truck after the game, tears poured out of me like I was attending a memorial service. They weren't tears of sadness, though. They were tears of fierce pride.I was proud that two Alberta teams played in the championship game. I was proud to be a former coach and player. I was proud of the host team and the organizing committee for creating a first class tournament. I was intensely proud of my nephew and his teammates because I have watched many of them play since they took their first uncertain steps on skates. The Knights left nothing in the dressing room and poured their hearts into the game.

More than anything, though, I was proud to know that I am a hockey player. A hockey parent. A hockey coach. A hockey fan. Hockey makes me shout at the television, jump in the air, wake up at 5:30 on a weekend and occupies a great deal of my waking hours regardless of the season. It's the greatest game around and it's a huge part of who I am.