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| Devils goalie Martin Brodeur celebrates with his son Anthony, then 5, after winning the Stanley Cup in 1995 |
Having just finished up a phenomenal week of coaching at Brian Daccord's Prospects Camp with the Goaltending Consultant Group at Merrimack College, I was reminded that top-flight goaltenders needs help and support along the way if they're going to get the most out of their natural talents. Which reminded me of this column, originally written for the New England Hockey Journal. Let me know what you think ...
A few years back, I paid a visit to my
sister in New Hampshire, because she and her clan build a first-rate
home rink in the winter, and I absolutely love playing a little
shinny there with my daughters, nieces, nephews, and their friends.
On this particular evening, my nephews had a new friend join us, and
the kid was absolutely all over the ice. He never strayed far from
the goal, but nothing got by him. He used anything and everything –
stick, body, arms, legs – to stop the puck.
During a break in the action, I asked
my nephew Luke about this kid, who I'll call "Joey" (to
protect his parents). Luke tells me that Joey is an only child, and
absolutely lives to play goalie, which of course gets my attention.
For Joey, "hockey" means street hockey. He plays every
single day after school, and almost all day on the weekends.
Luke introduced us, telling Joey that I
coach "real" goalies. The kid's eyes just lit up. He
started in on all the goaltending books he has, and his favorite
goalies, from Martin Brodeur and Henrik Lundqyist to Tuukka Rask. He
didn't have a favorite team – "I've got 10 genuine NHL
jerseys" – but he had plenty of spunk. It was impossible not
to like the kid right from the get-go.
As the game is winding down, a big
pearl-white Cadillac Escalade pulled up to the curb by the rink. It's
Joey's mom. When she stepped out, I told her that Joey was quite the
young goaltender, and asked if he's planning to play anywhere.
"You mean a real team? Oh, god,
no," she replied. "What a pain. Who needs that?"
The next few seconds can only be
described as awkward. Joey's mom had this plastic smile stuck on her
face, and my response was stuck in my throat. "You're kidding,
right?" I finally blurted out.
The woman looked back at me like I
slashed her tires. "I mean, all that driving around to practices
and games, that's a big commitment for my husband and me," she
said. "And then there's all that stinky equipment … "
"Seriously?" I replied, now
dumbfounded. I almost added: "Then why bother having kids?"
But I managed to restrain myself. After all, I don't have to live in
the neighborhood. Plus, it's really none of my business. Later,
though, while gabbing with my sister in her kitchen, I couldn't shake
my brief encounter with Joey's mom.
"A big commitment," I told my
sis. "Really? Isn't having a child a big commitment?"
Goalie coaches ask kids to make
commitments all the time. We do it because, in our hearts, we truly
believe that the kids who make the requisite effort get the most out
of whatever God-given talents they have, and they get the most out of
this game. And this game teaches a number of essential life lessons
that you simply won't find in a classroom.
Now, I'm asking parents to do the same.
If your children have a passion for something, you ought to let those
kids pursue that passion. At the very least, give them the
opportunity.
My mom was remarkable in this regard.
She was widowed just before I started 8th grade, and she
had six of us to look after. I wanted to be a hockey goalie. Street
hockey was just the start. Ice hockey was my dream. Fortunately, a
few of my brothers had the same dream. Mom looked around, and said:
"Fine. You get the equipment, and I'll get you to the rink."
That's what we did. I got a paper
route, and made enough coin in a few months to buy a new set of "Made
in Canada" goalie gear (which, admittedly, was considerably
cheaper to buy in the early 1970s). Mom never failed to keep up her
end of the bargain, shuttling us all over New Jersey's Bergen County
to our practices and games. We started networking with other families
– seemed like everyone had a huge Ford LTD wagon in those days –
to form car pools, and give mom an occasional night off.
Today, my wife and I have two teenage
daughters. I'm really lucky in that my bride shares my opinion that
sports are vital to a child's development. She's a Midwest gal, and
grew up playing basketball and volleyball. She also was a competitive swimmer. So she knows a thing or two about sacrifice, both as
an athlete and as a parent of an athlete.
Our youngest daughter – our hockey
player – also happens to be nuts about horses. I mean, over-the-top
crazy. I know very little about horses except this – they're
ridiculously expensive. Still, my wife and I understand how important
they are to Brynne. This is, after all, the same child who once asked
me to take her to a local stable so she could get a job in exchange
for riding lessons. She was 6.
"Oh child," I remember
telling her seven years ago. "If it means that much to you, then
mom and dad will make it work." And we have. Brynne doesn't ride
as much as she'd like, but she rides enough to keep her happy (while
the family remains financially solvent). It's required some
sacrifice, but the smile on Brynne's face when she is spending time
in the saddle makes any "sacrifice" seem small. I like to
think that my mom felt the same way when she watched us playing
hockey.
So now you've got a youngster telling
you that he or she wants to play goal. First, make sure they're
serious. You owe it to yourself, and you owe it to your child. This
was the genius of my mom's response to her boys, those many years
ago. If my brothers and I didn't want it bad enough, we wouldn't have
found a way to buy our own gear, and mom would have been off the
hook.
But if your child sticks with it, then
you've got to go all in. It can be expensive, and it can be
time-consuming, especially if you get additional coaching. Make the
extra effort to get your child to the rink on time for the practice
as well as the games. Learn how their gear goes on; help them when
they're young, encourage them to do it on their own. Trust me, your
child won't ever forget, and it will be one of the most rewarding
experiences you'll ever have.
FINIS
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