I'm the head coach?

The hockey season has just begun. It's been three weeks of practice (twice a week, once on Saturday morning and once on Sunday morning) and my 6 year old, Matthew, is already complaining. "Dad, why don't we skip hockey and play Lego?" he asks. "You like to play hockey," I remind him. "I do?" He looks skeptical. "Well," I say, pulling out the trump card, "you could go to Sunday School instead." "OK, I'll go to Sunday School." Trouble.

Now wait, don't jump to any conclusions yet. I'm not one of those hockey fanatic fathers that pin my kids' future happiness on making it to the NHL. I don't harbor any fantasies that my kids are are going to get college hockey scholarships. I also don't live my sports fantasies through my kids. Truth be told, I really don't even like to play sports (I don't count golf as a sport. It's more of a reminder that, despite everything you may have been told as a child, you really can't do anything you set your mind to) . I do think that playing sports is great for helping kids gain self confidence. It teaches them about team work. It teaches them how to win graciously and how to lose even more graciously. It gets them out of the house.

"O.K." I tell Matthew, "you don't have to go today, but I am taking Alex to get his team assignment." Alex is Matthew's 11 year old brother. He's a pee-wee and varsity hockey player. He missed his practice already because he got hurt at school (his front teeth got smashed out playing floor hockey) and the doctor doesn't want him playing hockey for a week. Alex still wants to go to the rink and find out what team he's on. Unlike Matthew, Alex is a hockey fanatic. He slept with his hockey stick for a month. Really.

We get to the rink and I start explaining to the director of the league that Alex got hurt but wants to get his team assignment. As he looks through his list of rosters, he mentions, non-chalantly, that I am an assistant coach of Alex's team and the head coach of Matthew's team. I chuckle and start asking about whether Alex could goaltend while he recovers from his accident (which may not technically be what the doctor had in mind but I am never going to keep Alex off the ice anyway). "Really," says the director, "you're the head coach of Matthew's team."


I've never actually played hockey. I did teach both my kids how to skate (my Dad was a speed skater and taught me the fundamentals), but I never held a hockey stick in my hands before Alex started playing three years ago. But I figure I can manage a bunch of kids 6 through 9. I can still skate better than a 9 year old (just barely). I was also assured plenty of help.

So . . . enough background. Matthew is on the Flyers. They wear orange. Alex is on the Kings. They wear black. Alex is also a travel pee-wee (white at home, red on the road). This is their story.