Playing Center

There is something truly amazing about watching 10 three-foot tall kids with four feet of equipment all chasing one puck on a sheet of ice.  Today was the first day of the Junior “season.”   The season is pretty long for kids’ sports; it lasts from October through March. The Juniors are the smallest kids in the league, ranging from 5 through about 8 or 9.  But even by 5 they want to be “in the action.”  Every one of them gets on the ice, skates over to me and asks, “Can I play center?”  

I’m not even sure if they know why they want to play center.  I am pretty sure not one of them could name any NHL centers (I know I would have trouble coming up with 3).  But that’s what they want to play.  At this level, the only real difference between the center and any other member of the team, except maybe the goalie, is that the center handles the face-off.  But after that, it is impossible to tell the difference between the center and any defenseman.  Every player on the ice just chases the puck, regardless of the position assigned to him or her.  Oh well, over time they will learn about positional play, but for now, it’s all about skating toward the puck full speed and as they finally get to their target, right in front of the goal, they lift up their stick to make the game-winning goal and promptly fall right down on their little butts.  

Everyone played well today.  In Juniors, we don’t keep score, but every single kid on the ice knows how many goals we scored versus how many goals the other team scored.  According to Matthew, we scored more goals than the Bruins.  It may have been because we had more than twice the number of kids the Bruins had (in the early season, there are a lot of time conflicts with other sports like baseball and soccer).  I would actually rather have them lose their first few games.  My older son Alex had a season where they lost virtually every game.  It may not have been the most fun he ever had, but I am sure he learned a lot about sportsmanship, patience and humility.  That’s why I like to give my kids the “It’s not about winning or losing, blah blah blah” speech after any game they play, win or lose.  This is only week one.

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.