Hockey Dad

There are a lot of things I never pictured myself doing. Planning a 5-day field trip for 80 fourth graders to northern Minnesota, watering my lawn at 6:00 AM on a Sunday morning because it's our day to water, and blogging at 10:30 on a Saturday night.

Of all the things I never expected to do or be in my life, one of the most unlikely is being a hockey dad.

Growing up I don't think I knew that hockey existed until I was in junior high. I don't recall seeing the North Stars on TV until high school. I never saw a high school hockey game until I played at one for pep band.

So having a son that plays hockey makes me feel like a fish out of water. I know baseball- I've loved it since the Twins had Bruno, Herbie, and Kirby. Football was a favorite growing up too. I spent hours pretending I was Tommy Kramer, Wade Wilson, Anthony Carter, and Jim Gustufson. I would throw the nerf football to the far side of my parents' roof and race to the other end to catch it before it bounced to the ground.

Hockey is foreign to me.

It all started with a pair of free Wild tickets about 4 years ago. A co-worker got 4 tickets for a Christmas gift from a student's family and invited Jodi, Jack, and I. Jack was terrified the moment we walked into the Xcel Energy Center. The people, the lights, the noise was overwhelming for him.

Our seats for that game were great. A few rows up from the ice towards one of the goals. About 1 minute into the game the Wild scored. The horn went off, the crowd roared, and Jack was clinging to me bug-eyed in terror. His fingernails ripping into my neck and shoulders. His feet pushing into my stomach. It was sensory overload for him.

But it was exciting too. The clean, white ice. Bright electronic signs.

The music throbbed between plays, the players glided around the ice, and slowly Jack loosened his grip and became infatuated with the game of hockey. Before 5 minutes were up, he was clapping, cheering, and bobbing his head to the action. A two year old with a Canadian attention span for hocky.

That night we bought him a miniature Wild hockey stick. He's played with it for years and now Aidan uses it. The blade is cracked and splintered and held on only by generations of duct, electrical, and hockey tape.

I should have seen it coming. Especially with our day care provider's son playing hockey and his Iowa cousins. Three people that he worships.

Slowly it gained momentum. Summer hockey games in the driveway. Another trip to the X for a Wild game. Games at Thaler and the Pond watching Dusty play. Trips to watch the cousins in their Minnesota tournaments. It became a part of Jack's athletic repetoire with baseball, football, and swimming.

In September we enrolled Jack in a learn to skate program in Victoria. With hand-me-down skates and helmet from Sandra and new gloves from Sports Authority, he took the ice. The first couple of sessions were brutal. He was spaghetti-legged. He could not stand up or balance at all. He cried. We had to be on the ice with him. Finally we got him standing up pushing a folding chair, but we had to be along side him. The second practice was much the same. He was excited to go, but once he got there, the fear or anxiety caused by new experiences washed over him.

The third time was better. We could leave him on the ice. The fourth time we watched from the stands. And then one day at work I found a flyer in my mail box for Termite hockey. Kids 4 and one-half to 7 could skate twice a week with practice and games from October through March for $150 plus equipment.

Before I knew it he was signed up.

He is doing wonderful. He participates and listens (as best as a pre-schooler can do). Jack scored a goal in his first game in December in front of Nana and Papa.

Most amazing for me is that he knows practically no one out there. The 150 Terminte skaters are strangers to him. The live in a different town and communicating with his fellow skaters is impossible with an oversized mouth guard crammed into his jaws.

He persists. Today they started practice by skating across the ice red line to red line working on different agility drills. He's not fast, but steady and controlled. He was first in line at one cone and when another skater tried to take his spot he didn't back down no matter how the kid tried to intimidate him. Jack didn't talk smart to him (can't talk at all with that mouth guard) or push at him, he just held his ground.

At times I find myself with unrealistic expectations. Like he should participate in all of the drills all of the time. My blood pressure goes up when I see him skate away from a station to go sit on the bench or find more interesting way to spend the hour on the ice.

When this happens I ask myself: What was I doing the winter before kindergarten?

But here he is. Because of him I've learned what breezers are and how to keep his socks from sagging off his shin pads. I've also learned that hockey rinks are not heated for Termite practices so bundle up and bring school work to do.

For a parent, hockey is a grind. It costs money, takes time, and it's stressful.

I could not be more proud of him.