The King's rule: Fun is vital

Henrik Lundqvist shares a lighthearted moment
with teammate and fellow goalie Antti Raanta.

Hi gang,

The last of my rapid-fire three-post medley. At our recent Foundation for Goalie Research and Education symposium, a new topic came to the forefront. Actually, not a "new" topic, but one that's finally getting the attention it deserves. And that topic, in a word, is fun.

Sports have become such a high-stakes activity that many of us, including coaches and parents, lose sight of the fact that these are still games. And games are supposed to be fun. Because, if they're not fun, what's the point? Which reminded me of this great column written by all-world goaltender Henrik Lundqvist for The Player's Tribune. Which led to a column of my own. Let me know what you think ...

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Lessons from the King: Fun is vital

I'm a big fan of Henrik Lundqvist. The regal Swede has the noble bearing that I love seeing in goaltenders, as if they're almost invincible ("The King" being one of the best, and most appropriate, nicknames in the NHL). Technically, he's a rock star, and beneath that calm exterior is one of the league's fiercest competitors. There have been several years when he's almost single-handedly carried the New York Rangers on his way to collecting 400-plus wins (not to mention the gold and silver Olympic medals in his trophy case). I personally think he's worth every penny of the $9.5 million that the Blueshirts pay him annually.

So when I saw that Lundqvist wrote a "Letter to My Younger Self" in The Players' Tribune, I had to check it out. I wasn't disappointed. Some of his comments to his 8-year-old self are predictable, like the following segment, where he recounts the very first time he put on goalie gear.

"You'll glide to the top of your crease, bend your knees, then glide backward toward the net. And keep gliding. And keep gliding and gliding.

"Eventually, you'll hit the back of the net and topple over. You've fallen, and you can't get up. Nobody told you how heavy the pads were going to be.

"As you're laying there on the ice, completely helpless, your own brother will skate down on a breakaway and bury the puck in the open net. He'll skate away with a big smile on his face, arms in the air, while you lay there staring at the puck in the back of the net. Remember this feeling. It never gets any easier.

"This is just your first practice. In your first game, you'll let in 12 goals. Nowhere to go but up, right? Well, in your second game, you'll let in 18. Don't get discouraged."

These feelings – adjusting to cumbersome gear, feeling embarrassed, dealing with disappointment – are fairly universal in the goaltending community. As is Lundqvist's next thought.

"Believe it or not, this is the start of something beautiful. You have found something that you truly love. No matter how many goals you let in, the feeling of making just one save makes it all worth it. That's how you know you're on the right path."

This is music to my ears. As a goalie, and as a goalie coach, I know exactly how Lundqvist was feeling way back when. I've often told parents, when they ask whether their son or daughter will stick with goaltending, "Oh, don't worry. They'll tell you."

What that means is that the position quickly weeds out kids who simply aren't cut out for the rigors of goaltending. Some will stick it out because they're the only option, or they really enjoy being part of a team. But the ceiling for these kids is always going to be low. Why? Because developing into a really good goaltender takes an incredible amount of hard work and dedication. If you don't love the position, the odds of you committing to those countless hours in the gym and on the ice are slim.

As Lundqvist goes on to say, there's nothing mysterious about becoming great. Good gear will help, but ultimately it isn't the equipment that's going to make a difference. It requires God-given talent, and a willingness to put in the work required to make the most of that talent. It takes heart.

"There's no magic recipe for becoming your hero Pekka Lindmark (the former Swedish national team netminder)," wrote Lundqvist. "You don't need shiny new pads – you won't get your own pair until you're 18 anyway. You don't need expensive camps. You don't even need to be very good yet. The only thing that matters right now is that you keep having fun.

"You can compete like crazy against your brother. But never stop having fun. Be dedicated to having fun."

And that's where The King got me. "Having fun." Such a simple concept, yet so remarkably profound. Despite all the challenges that goalies face, kids who flourish in the position are typically (not always, but typically) the ones having fun. Because if it's not fun, the pressures and expectations of the position can crush you.

Some of my favorite goalies embody this concept. I think of guys like Martin Brodeur and Marc-Andre Fleury, guys who looked like they were absolutely in their element when they were between the pipes, no matter how high the stakes were. Their smiles, their attitudes, were absolutely contagious. One of my favorite clips that airs over and over on the NHL Network is Canadien/Avalanche great Patrick Roy grinning and winking after yet another highlight save.

When I coach young goalies, I still try to nurture, above anything else, a love for the game. If a puck gets by you, try to figure out what happened, try to adjust, but don't agonize over it. Concentrate on what's coming next, not what's in the rear-view mirror. Remember to have fun. After all, it's a game.

I kept playing goalie past my 50th birthday. If my old-goalie hips and back didn't give out, I'd be playing today. I have several friends in their 60s who are still suiting up, and when they complain about this or that hurting them, I tell them to zip it. Because I'm utterly jealous that they're still heading to the rink once, twice, sometimes three times a week. My wife thinks I'm nuts. But, then again, she was never a goalie. There's no way she can understand.

I miss the fun. I miss the chirping, the camaraderie, the physical challenge, the subtle-but-very-real satisfaction of feeling the puck hitting me. Stepping on the ice, fully geared up, was an act of joy. It might not have always seemed like that to others, when my competitive streak occasionally overshadowed the more pleasurable aspects of the game. But, underneath it all, there was no place else I'd rather have been. Because it was fun.

The concept of "fun" is clearly so important to Lundqvist that he ended his missive to his 8-year-old self with this wonderful nugget:

"In fact, let me leave you with one final piece of advice. Tomorrow, when you put on that surprisingly heavy goalie equipment for the first time, right before you step out onto the ice, take a deep breath, block out all your thoughts and worries, and ask yourself a question: 'Why am I doing this?'

"The answer will come to you very quickly. 'I'm doing this because it's fun. I'm doing this because I love to compete. So let's go out there and have a blast.'

"Keep reminding yourself of this when things don't go as planned, even when your stage is Madison Square Garden.

"Being a goalie is 90 percent mental. If you are stuck in your own thoughts or dwelling on negativity you won't have the mental focus necessary to compete and succeed. Nobody tells you this when you're a kid, but the best way to get in the right mindset is to start by having fun. The rest you'll figure out.

"Your life will take you to many interesting places, and many big stages. But it doesn't matter if you're stepping out onto the frozen lake in Åre to battle with Joel, or stepping out onto the ice at Madison Square Garden in front of 18,000 people. It's all the same game.

"It's just ice. It's just a puck. Stopping it is fun."

Words that befit a King. Perfect.

FINIS

Improvement closely tied to trust and communication

Coaching goaltenders requires a sublime mix of
empathy, encouragement, and tough love.

Hi gang,

With high school playoffs in full gear, I thought it was a good time to revisit this column I wrote last year for the New England Hockey Journal.

Somewhat coincidentally, I coached the young goalie mentiond in the opening scene this past summer, and learned that she was leaving her public school program and an abusive coach for a spot on a private school roster. Things must have changed sometime between summer and the beginning of the past season, because she was back at her public school by November. I'm guessing she realized she wasn't going to see as much playing time, knowing the other private-school goalie (who is very good).

I'm also guessing she wasn't thrilled about the decision, given the type of coach she was returning to. But playing time is playing time. It's just a shame that some kids have to make uncomfortable choices like this.

Let me know what you think. Thanks!

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Improvement closely tied to trust and communication

The story was enough to make my goalie coaching head spin. Another parent and I were sitting at our daughters' hockey game. He was telling me how he had stopped by another high school girls' game earlier that night, out of curiosity. The game was a match between a traditional Massachusetts private powerhouse and a public school that was trying to break into the state's upper echelons. It quickly proved to be a mismatch.

The game didn't start well for the public school, and the red-faced coach started screaming at his goaltender. Screaming, across the ice, loud enough for the entire audience to hear. Things like "Wake up! Get your head in the game!" A grown man, screaming at a 16-year-old girl. Brilliant.

Predictably, the public school lost, 6-1. More than that, the public school coach had embarrassed himself, not only in front of his team but also in front of all the parents in the stands. If you're among the minority that thinks this type of "tough love" approach is good, I'm telling you, plain and simply, you're wrong. Listening to this story, I didn't know whether to be angry, or disappointed. Probably both.

There's no "love" involved in this approach. It's harassment. And it's humiliating. The coach lost his cool, which I'm sure contributed to his team losing the game. More than that, he called out a teenage goalie, in a very public way, which almost ensures a level of distrust that will last well beyond that one game.

Before we go any further, I must stress that I'm not advocating pampering any player, especially goalies. Ask any of the goaltenders I work with, and every single one will tell you that I don't cut them any slack. None. Excuses are for losers. The goalie has one job, and that's to stop the puck. It's an incredibly difficult job, admittedly, but no one is holding a gun to the goalie's head. Stopping the puck is the job that goalies sign up for, and excuses prevent improvement.

Trust, on the other hand, is essential, and that starts with good communication.

Nowhere is that more important than the pressure-packed postseason. In the playoffs, coaches need to build their goalies, up, not tear them down. In goaltending, more than any other position, confidence is king. Without it, a goalie is going to struggle. That's why coaches – not goalie coaches, but head coaches – absolutely need to develop a relationship with their netminders.

My good friend and employer, Brian Daccord of Stop It Goaltending, addressed this dynamic in a recent post of his Monday Morning Goalie Coach blog.

"I recently read an article online about marriage, and something really struck me," said Daccord. "Marriages that last are not because the couple agrees on issues, but they have the ability to communicate about the issues. Naturally, I had to immediately apply this to goaltending and the relationship between the head coach and the goalie."

Daccord has witnessed a consistent disconnect between coaches and the team's goaltenders at every level of the game, from Mites to the National Hockey League. It's a baffling situation.

"You would think that a coach who's good fortune rides on his goaltending staff would make it a point to communicate with them and make sure they have a clear head," wrote Daccord. "Far too many goalies are left hanging and spending way too much mental energy trying to figure out where they stand. There are even still coaches that do not notify their starting goalie a day in advance of a start.

"Goalies don't need coaches to blow smoke, but they do need to know where they stand and what role they have on a team," he said. "It is on the coach to do his part by communicating with his goalies and therefore earning their respect and trust. If a coach is straight up with a goalie, there is a greater probability that he will be able to perform at a higher level, in which case everyone wins."

Daccord ran this blog post with a photograph of John Tortorella. The implication was clear. Like another former Ranger coach, "Iron Mike" Keenan, Tortorella (now with the Columbus Blue Jackets) is well known for not only having a hair trigger when pulling his goaltender, but also has a history of throwing his goalies under the bus when things aren't going well. The most famous example of this ploy, of course, is the Canadien coach Mario Tremblay embarrassing future Hall of Famer Patrick Roy, who then forced a trade to Colorado, where he won two more Stanley Cups. Montreal? The Canadiens haven't been back to the finals since saying "au revoir" to Roy.

Now, to some extent, I understand a coach's frustration. The less you know about a position, the less likely you're going to make educated decisions about which goalie to play, and how to approach the goalies before and during the game. But the onus is on the head coach to get up to speed on the nuances of the position. The goaltenders are not only part of their team, but also a vital part of the team's success. That doesn't mean coddling the goalies. It means understanding the position.

I've never babied my goaltenders. Honest assessment is an essential part of the position. But productive communication between the coaching staff and their goaltenders can make an enormous difference in not only the success of the goalies, but the team in general.

Here's an example. For two seasons, I worked with a high school team as a part-time goalie coach. I'd stop by once, maybe twice a week. The coaching staff treated me like some kind of witch doctor, specializing in the dark arts of goaltending. "Take the goalies, we'll work with the rest of the team," was the typical instruction.

The coaches were almost dismissive, to be honest. "Fix our goalies" appeared to be their mantra, without any understanding in their own role in breaking their netminders in the first place (and if you watched a "normal" practice, there was little doubt that their shooting drills weren't helping to develop the goalies).

Now, compare that to my experience this year, where one of the teams I'm helping has two freshmen netminders. Both girls are only 15, with precious little experience. One was a backup last year, as an 8th grader, and never saw any game time. The second is an absolute beginner trying to make the switch from lacrosse goaltending. Needless to say, it's a precarious situation.

But, to their credit, the team's coaches have actively solicited advice. I've heard comments like "We want to make sure we're not contradicting what you're telling them," or "We want an idea of the skating and shooting drills they should be doing when you're not here."

The difference between the two approaches is startling. The latter is far more enlightened, and ensures that the goalies are getting a consistent message. The coaches and I discuss our goalie situation often. We're not always on the same page. They want both girls to get better quicker. I counsel patience. Young goalies will make mistakes. So do the other young players on the team, all of whom have been playing hockey much longer.

That's why keeping those lines of communication open between coaches and goaltenders are so important. For every team. I wish more coaches would understand just how crucial it is to encourage, and not simply critique.

FINIS