Breaking the ice: My journey into hockey culture
As I sit here in a cramped hotel room, struggling with a patchy Wi-Fi connection, I can’t help but reflect on how I ended up in this peculiar situation. My kids are off at a hockey camp, and I’m racing against the clock to finish my work so I can join the other hockey parents for dinner. It’s a far cry from where I was a year ago, debating if I even wanted to endure a freezing season.
Becoming a hockey mom began with a spontaneous decision. Our kids, having declared themselves retirees from their latest athletic escapade, were on the lookout for a new activity when a flyer advertising a free hockey clinic caught their eye. Serendipity.
The clinic was a hit with the kids, and while they were having fun, the program coordinator gently nudged my spouse and I toward signing our kids up for structured sessions. These sessions, which included ‘learn to skate’ and ‘learn to play’ practices, made hockey seem manageable. The sessions were weekly, and our kids were provided rental gear.
The accommodations didn’t last long. As we naively cheered from the chilly stands, our kids fell further and further enamored with the sport. And we began to understand the full extent of what we were getting into. Here are just a few lessons gleaned thus far.
1.Level of skill is subjective and fluid
When it was time for evaluations to join a recreational team, my kids felt ready. They performed the necessary drills during tryout-style sessions but were abruptly rejected by the trusted program coordinator who instead suggested we continue doing the learn to skate program.
Fortunately, I ran into a former colleague that was volunteering as a coach in the recreational program. He dismissed the advisor’s suggestion and encouraged me to enroll my kids into recreational hockey team right away. “It’s just rec,” he said, “and they know how to skate, so they’ll exponentially improve the more they’re on ice.”
Metaphorically speaking, my kids haven’t left the ice since.
2. Hockey is expensive so try to be frugal
The financial commitment for hockey is staggering. From the moment we registered with the US Hockey Association, the costs started piling up. First it was the association registration, followed by a heftier yet anticipated price tag of registering for the team itself.
Once registered, we learned that we had to supply our own gear and equipment. During our hunt for equipment, I discovered the thriving second-hand market for hockey gear and the lack of quality dupes. Ultimately, we ended up buying mostly used quality equipment, opting to buy new only if we found no other alternative. And it cost a small fortune.
This was especially true for my child that decided he wanted to be a goalie. And not just any goalie, but one of the rare ‘full right’ goalies which means he holds the stick in his left-hand. I share this because rare means finding the right equipment was a challenge and we accidently bought the wrong blockers and gloves.
Luckily our local ice rinks offered some free and reduced-fee skate sessions to entice participants. We tried to attend and take advantage of those sessions, if only to get our money’s worth before my kids outgrow their stuff and are ready for gear upgrades.
Supplementing the season came the bombardment of tournaments. These were optional but in our zeal to seize the moment, we signed up to participate in one too many. Each one required additional fees for participation, along with travel and accommodation costs. Offseason training camps, like the one we’re currently attending in Idaho, further added to the expenses.
Navigating the costs of hockey has been an adventure. From rollerblades to free training sessions, every bit of assistance helps.
3. Clear your calendar for hockey devours time
While we are forever grateful our children embraced the sport, the lifestyle change was the biggest adjustment for me. With practice twice a week and 1–2 games on weekends for each child, the time commitment is significant. This includes pre-game dry-land practice and the time needed to gear up and cool down. Optional extra practices further add to the time commitment.
Being a dual-working family, our weekends were precious. Unfortunately, hockey season replaced our leisurely mornings with early practice times and scrambling to keep up with the game plan. And for the most part, any non-hockey activities were sidelined as the varying schedules made it difficult to balance any other commitments we had.
In an abstract way, the busy-ness was reminiscent of the demands I experienced while growing up in a high-demand religion, where every moment seemed spoken for. I’m told this gets exponentially harder for families with children in select sports.
Bonus lesson in new traditions, friendships, and trust
Despite the time commitment, the joy and growth I see in my kids make it all worthwhile. I’ve come to look forward to our Sunday donut ritual after scrimmage practice. And if I don’t have enough steps clocked on my smart watch for the day, I know my kids will happily join me for some street hockey. And of course there are the new friends you make as you sit on the bench cheering. Like the ones we’re about to grab dinner with.
The hockey community is refreshingly trusting. Despite the high cost of equipment, the equipment is often left sprawling and unattended as teams shuffle in and out of locker rooms. Yet nothing is ever stolen. This is a sharp contrast to the locker rooms and locks I’ve experienced in gyms. The camaraderie and mutual respect fostered among players and parents create an environment of trust that’s heartening.
Of course, there are challenges. Gear always smells, no matter how well you clean it. And the risk of injuries, particularly concussions, is a concern that lingers.
Looking back, it’s clear that hockey has become more than just a sport for us. It’s a journey of growth, community, and a testament to the unexpected joys of embracing new opportunities. From a hesitant start to a thriving involvement, hockey culture has become a part of our lives in a way I never anticipated but am grateful for, nonetheless.
As Wayne Gretzky would say, “You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.”
