Feb. 12th 2007...1967 - Hockey. Canada’s obsession. My passion. The love affair blossoms the day an errant stick cuts Joey’s face during the perpetual hockey game the boys play on the parking lot behind Marco’s apartment building. A thin trickle of blood seeps from Joey’s forehead, slides down his face and drips onto his Leafs sweater. Sniveling, he trots home to get a Band-Aid. You baby, the boys call after him. He keeps going. The boys watch until he disappears at the end of the alley. Sticks sag limply from their fingers. What’ll we do now? We don’t have enough guys. Joey’s exit places the game in jeopardy.

Jan 12th 2007...High on a hill, overlooking tranquil Cayuga Lake, in the small upstate New York town of Ithaca, sits the venerable Ivy League’s Cornell University. Near the top, nestled into the hillside, is Lynah Rink, home of the Cornell Big Red. This is fitting, because while Cornell has a fine tradition of competitive athletics in many disciplines – rowing, lacrosse and equestrian to name a few – the undisputed king of the campus is men’s ice hockey.

Aug 2nd 2006...The blast of cold air from inside Twin Rinks at Pitt Meadows hit full force as I pulled open the blue fire door. “Another arena that uses cold air to keep the ice frozen,” I thought uncharitably. I dragged my bag of pucks, folder and clipboard in after me and headed down the scarred walkway beside the Red rink. The dressing rooms opened directly onto the ice surface and I watched the game in progress for a few seconds. Sounds of the puck hitting the boards and players calling to each other drifted over the glass. A row of dads stood along the boards yelling at their kids, discussing strategy and sipping steaming cups of coffee. Taking a deep breath of the stale Zamboni fume laced air; I turned away from the game and with great trepidation stood in front of the battered door of dressing room three.

Jan 27th 2006...I barely opened the door to dressing room 4 at the Cam Neely arena in Maple Ridge when the pandemonium from inside assaulted me. Even though only about half the team had arrived, the small room was crowded with little hockey players squirming on the benches; parents kneeling in front of them trying to tie skates onto feet that were never still. The noise was deafening because at this age (6 - Tykes) the kids had only one volume – full blast.

Jan 12th 2006...I reach my arm out from under the blankets, blindly pounding at the blaring clock radio to shut it up. Without looking I know it is six thirty. It’s not often I need the alarm to wake up. And today being Saturday, I shouldn’t have to get up at all, except I’m a hockey mom.

Jan 4th 2006...Dragging my huge red hockey bag, I open the dressing room door. It’s a special bag, made to fit the extra pads goaltenders have to wear. The down side is the bags are heavy and hard to carry. At Killarney, the home dressing rooms are at the far end of the rink and by the time I get there my bag has drooped from my shoulders to the floor. My bag is scuffed and worn on the bottom from all the dragging it has endured. The door is in a small alcove so I can’t see the rest of the room. This is to protect the players, who may be in various stages of undress or in the shower at the back, from prying eyes.

Dec 27th 2005...Most every kid starts off playing hockey to have fun. Then, there comes a time when they realize that they are more talented than most of those around them. A decision is made to pursue the dream. At some point the grind sets in and what used to be purely fun, now sometimes, becomes work. As they watch their friends go out, carefree and without responsibility, they question the dream and the sacrifices they are making. Some never waver, some quit entirely and some try to find a way to live in both worlds – with mixed results. The parents’ challenge is to help keep the player’s eye on the goal amidst the distractions. As a parent you can’t force them to play, but you can help them see the big picture. My kids responded best to the written word and I would write them little stories to encourage them. I wrote this when they were teens. It isn’t about hockey, yet it is all about hockey. I thought it appropriate for New Year, when we assess our dreams, commit to new ones and get a chance at a new beginning. Happy New Year everybody!

Dec 21st 2005...Nestled on the peat bogs of Burnaby, between the Trans Canada Highway and the Lougheed, lies Canlan’s flagship facility, Burnaby 8-rinks. With easy access to Vancouver and surrounding area, it is used from early morning to late night. It is a towering two story concrete building that houses eight full size rinks. Six are used for hockey, one for indoor soccer or ball hockey and one for figure skating. The dressing rooms run down the middle and the rinks are split evenly on either side. Players enter into a huge atrium lobby that has a wide sweeping staircase leading to the upstairs.

Dec 6th 2005 - Early Morning at the Rink...Slowly I blink my eyes trying to get myself awake. It’s still dark outside and I try to focus, squinting to see the clock. The illuminated numbers blur then finally clear. Three forty-five in the morning. I fumble around trying to disengage the alarm before it goes off. Not much point in waking anyone else yet. I test the air outside the blankets. Cold. I don’t want to get up. For a moment the warm blankets tempt me. Would he be upset to miss practice? I don’t dare risk it so I slowly crawl out from the warmth and grab the clothes I laid out the night before.