The Goalie Years - My 5 years in Net

1985 was a good year.

I was, many many years ago, a hockey player. A goalie to be precise and while I only played for 5 seasons, I look back with great nostalgia on those days. I can remember strapping the pads on for the first time at age 12, nervous and scared, I could barely skate. Growing up as a bookworm who caught the hockey bug late will do that and wobbling out onto the ice, I probably spent more time on my ass than on my feet. But I was in love from the first scent of those musty, heavy leather pads and I persisted, getting back up every time. The first moment I took my place in the rectangle to guard the net is fresh in my mind and the whack of the puck as I made my first glove save brings a smile to my face even now.

That 1985/86 hockey season was eye opening for our whole family. We had been part of a 10 pin bowling league but were not prepared for the close knit and sometimes political minor hockey world. But for that first year, it was pure joy. Early morning Saturday games, snacks at the concession stand and a big lunch afterwards of fresh crusty buns and deli meat are the things I wish to recreate when I close my eyes and reminisce. Tournaments meant a weekend spent at the arena with the real treat for us kids, lunch or dinner at a McDonalds's, something that was very rare for our family back in those days. Car rides to the arena and spending time together when we didn't realise we'd eventually grow up and long for those easy days again are but two of the things I wish I could have realised. I know we lost more games than we won that first year, but I was dutiful in trying to get better. I turned to books for help and had a battered copy of legendary NHL goalie Jacques Plante's book that was my everything. His passion for the position was matched by my own and I will always be a fan for his knowledge and wish to spread it to anyone who wanted to improve.

My first team picture

I had been dropped down to a younger division in my first season because of my obvious lack of skill and figured to play the next year with my friends of the same age, but that was not to be. For whatever reason, a lack of goalies, my own bravado and confidence, I skipped right past the PeeWee (12/13) league and into the much tougher Bantam (14/15) division. Looking back, I think I must have been crazy, but it proved to be the greatest season of my very short career. 

Winning with these guys meant everything to 14 year old me.

It was on this team I encountered the man who would influence my later decision to coach and become a leader instead of sitting back. Sid Nelson was a brash, loud guy who was first and foremost a motivator of young men. He taught me about the psychology of the game, instilling a passion that forever remains with me. He believed in me, even when there were times I struggled to keep up with my older teammates or the stronger shots from the other team. One player in particular, Donny Sawchuk, took me under his wing and despite being a quiet young man, was fierce in his defense of his teammates and played with such vigor, I always tried to match him. When we won the two-game, total goal Championship 9-7, I remember being mobbed by my teammates and that feeling of being the best at something, even a house league champion, is with me, warm and happy, to this day.
Our sponsor was a father of one of the other players and when we went to their place for the end of the year party, he presented us with real Championship rings. I wore that proudly for many years and to my regret lost it during those tumultuous teenage misadventures I have spoken of before. I wish I could find it, it meant so much to me. But the memories persist so clear, that I will be happy with just them.
The next few years found me realising just how little skill I had. My heart was big, but my ability could not match it. Mom and Dad even sprung for the not inconsiderable cost of hockey schools, but it was pretty apparent that I was becoming more of a teacher than a player.

The Last season, Repping Hometown hockey

Two seasons removed from that glorious run to gold, I was part of the local Rep team, mainly because there were only two of us the proper age to be on the team and it was an eye opening experience to say the least. Representing Stoney Creek in a AA loop of southern Ontario communities was a moment of pride but also when I finally started to turn my eyes towards being behind the bench instead of the ice. At this level, I didn't play much, and my lack of talent made me wonder what I was doing wrong. My goaltending partner that season, John, was outstanding in net and off the ice. He gave me tips and tried to help keep my spirits up as the goals against mounted and my playing time decreased. Particularly memorable was our playing a team from Sweden, a tie game in which John stopped almost 50 shots and I came to the very real vision, sitting on the bench,  that I was not going to play hockey very much longer.
I finished the season out and even went to tryouts the next year, but the writing was on the wall. I had been pulled aside by those running the team to talk about my future. It was put to me that while I would be on the team because there were only two of us the right age again, if I would accept being cut, a younger but infinitely more talented goalie could be brought on board. I had already begun coaching and knew in my head they were right, I didn't belong on that team. But my heart wasn't so sure and I told them I'd think about it and hit the ice for practice. Skating around, taking in the scene and trying to fight back the tears I felt brimming in my eyes, I knew I was done as a goalie. I took my place in net and finished the day with a final stop that funny enough was a glove save. I remember dropping the puck on the ice and saying a silent goodbye to my dreams of making the NHL. Not that I ever really thought I would make it, but when you are a kid, dreams seem so real. I skated off the ice, never again to strap on those pads and guard my net with my body and soul. A little bit of my childhood died that final skate but it did lead me to what was to be my focus and all consuming obsession for the next few years.


My first Head Coaching job, the 1989 Penguins of Stoney Creek

 Becoming a Hockey Coach was so much more than I could have ever envisioned and for many years, it was the path I thought I'd never get off ; until life decided otherwise. But that's a story for another day.
Game on!

I Want to Believe this Christmas

Excited for Christmas, 1975

I have a recurring fantasy about Christmas. It doesn't involve presents or anything that can be bought. It doesn't require money or time and could bring hope to those who have been searching for the holiday spirit. It's a little radical and not where I thought I'd find myself at 43, but it has captured my heart.


I  wish to simply and truly believe in Santa Claus for a few hours on Christmas Eve.


I know it sounds silly but I don't care. If only for a short time, that pure anticipation, joy and sheer wonder were part of my life again; I couldn't imagine a better feeling. I can still catch flashes of what I felt when I was a young boy, waiting for Christmas to get here, hoping and praying that I had been good enough for the Big Guy to stop by and give me a present. But like I said, this isn't about stuff, it's about that feeling one more time.

Santa and I circa 1973

I want to feel like there is something good in an increasingly hard world. I want to sing the carols louder than ever before. I want to celebrate with an abandon only felt when you are a child. I want to watch the specials on TV with people who share popcorn, laugh or cry together and know all the lines. But most of all, I just want a break from being a grown up. I want a brief respite from the never ending worry, bills, work and constant motion my life has become. I want just a moment to believe in something so wonderfully magical that it makes my smile genuine, my hugs tighter and my joy unabashed.

I do my best to remain positive at this time of year. I see so many people struggle with the burdens we have come to believe we must carry to make Christmas perfect. From the parties to the presents, we have become encumbered with expectations of what this time of the year is supposed to be. Encouraged by the visions of perfection we see on traditional and new media, we are caught in a stream of worrying if we are doing enough or if we can ever measure up. This anxiety and strain over Christmas has become a bigger part of the season than ever before and I think it is time to say

  "Enough."

You are wonderful the way you are. Your family are what matter and however you choose to spend this holiday is the right way; regardless of what anyone thinks or says. Don't want to keep doing the same things every year, stop and do something new. Traditions had to start somewhere and if yours are not what you want, discard them and discover what makes you happy. The only thing that makes sense when you're unhappy is to seek a better way. There is not a rule saying you have to do anything because it is Christmas;
in fact I think the season is meant to be a celebration of all that is good in your life, your home and the world.

Late 1970's, take me back!

So this Christmas Eve I will look out the window and search for the sleigh. I will leave milk and cookies out with a note for Santa. I will have a hard time going to sleep because I will believe that I hear the reindeer up on the rooftop. I will let go of the resentments and fears that hold me back from the joy and happiness Christmas used to bring and I will embrace my inner Claus, whole heartedly and with everything I have.

I will believe in Santa, one more time.

Merry Christmas!