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Sunday morning, Easter Sunday, I received a text from a parent of a couple of my former ice hockey players back in California. I wasn’t surprised about. If I was still in California, chances are I would have been coaching the team that had the two brothers on it in their Easter tournament.
What I wasn’t ready for was the fact that the younger one got knocked out for about five seconds on the ice and went into USA Hockey’s concussion protocol which means that this stout (not fat, just huge) German kid is done for a while. I also wasn’t ready for the accompanying video showing the less than clean hit. (In my ever so humble opinion).
When I got the text I was with my family and my brother asked who it was. I said it was from the mother of one of my hockey players. My brother looked at me and reminded me that I quit coaching and moved 1,800 miles away, so I don’t have players anymore.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized he was wrong. I may not be coaching them any klonger, but I spent five years coaching in the same organization to close out my coaching “career.” I had teams from 9-10 all the way up through high school varsity and both recreational and competitive.
The more I thought about it the more I knew I was right. These ARE my kids. Some of them I coached year-round for five years and did lessons with two nights a week in addition. I naturally became close with three families and went to birthday parties, drank scotch and played Cards against Humanity while drinking 805’s (awesome Cali beer).
My self-esteem isn’t great except when it comes to writing and coaching ice hockey. I always found the way to get the most out of my players and only one season did I have “the better” players. Yet in five calendar years my teams won seven recreational championships, a Junior Varsity 2nd place, three travel level tournament wins, and the one I’m most proud of, five tournament championships with recreational players and two practices playing above their level in travel level tournaments.
The travel teams were NOT happy that a bunch of house league kids were walking out with their banner.
If it sounds like I’m bragging, I’m really not. I didn’t accomplish any of those championships. All I did was figure out the best way to get each player at the top of their game and watch then do the work.
The other thing that I’m proud if is when I hear from parents what great kids their players are. From the age of 9 on up, I taught them about respect and teamwork. My captains always went over and shook the other coaches hands and the referees as well. Those gestures didn’t go unnoticed and parents of the visiting teams would make positive comments.
So, yeah. These are my kids and will be. I love seeing pictures and getting videos of them as they progress and mature. I love seeing them utilize the head games I taught them. Not mind control, but rather how to get into their opponent’s head.
I love watching my kids running the same plays we would in practice and putting in goal after goal and I love watching my defensive players step up, block the shot and lead the breakout rush.
If it sounds like I miss coaching, you would be partially right but mainly wrong. The stress, the running from place to place and the long hours in the cold were things that were not beneficial to being autistic, so no. Not at all.
My players, I miss dearly. I want to be behind the bench with them, tapping the next forwards to go out and telling the ones that just came off the ice to relax. One more hit post and they would have had a hat trick on that shift. I always believed humor was better than yelling.
Anyway, these are my kids. Some in college and playing junior hickey, the youngest in my first year with the Ducks now in high school!
I may not get hoarse every holiday weekend from yelling during a tournament, but these are and will always be my kids. I’ll always answer to Coach J.R. and I’ll continue to be proud of every accomplishment and milestone.
So yeah. I kinda miss coaching.
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Photo courtesy J.R. Reed