Parents, school officials must respect boundaries

Hi gang,

I'm revisiting a column that I wrote a year ago, because we're heading toward hockey playoffs, and tensions between parents, school officials, and coaches always seem to ratchet up this time of year. That's especially true in this case, when a parent who happened to be a school official (a superintendent, no less) went way over the line in disciplining his son's coach.

Hockey, and the dynamics surrounding the game, are complicated enough without a parent in position of power having a personal vendetta against a coach. There's simply a right way and a wrong way to handle disagreements. This is an example of the wrong way, by any standard that I know.

Let me know what you think! Best, -Brion

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PARENTS, SCHOOL OFFICIALS MUST RESPECT BOUNDARIES

Sigh! Seems like every time I want to focus on a basic goaltending topic – from techniques to game preparation – something happens that pulls me in another direction. Recently, it was the suspension of Andover (Mass.) High School hockey coach Christopher Kuchar and two assistants for alleged mistreatment of their players.

Sheldon Berman, superintendent of Andover schools, took that action after saying Kuchar prohibited players from eating for 12 hours after a loss. That charge, on its face, was absurd (seeing the away game was, at most, only two hours from Andover). Berman said he was acting on complaints from parents, some who had contacted the state's Department of Children and Families.

Then the story gets really bizarre. Seems two years earlier, Berman wrote a memo to Andover Principal Philip Conrad and former Athletic Director Don Doucette, chastising Kuchar for the treatment of Berman's son, Dale. Obviously, I can't go into every detail of a six-page memo (yup, six pages!); it's easy enough to find it online. Suffice to say, Berman's memo is a classic example of parental overreach. Considering that it came from the superintendent of schools, addressed to two men who work for him, Berman's memo borders on egregious.

Dated March 28, 2016, Berman's memo starts: "I would like to express serious concerns about Coach Christopher Kuchar in his role as Head Coach of the Andover Ice Hockey Team. My concerns are twofold. On the one hand, I believe his coaching style is not one that is aligned with the larger interests of the Andover Public Schools. On the other hand, I believe his treatment of my son falls close to the category of abuse."

What followed was a six-page character assassination of Kuchar (and a bloated ode to Berman's son), ending with the superintendent recommending that Doucette fire the coach. "It is my belief that Andover would serve students far better with another coach," wrote Berman.

The memo, frankly, is mind-boggling. It's a particularly vile bit of skullduggery, because Berman sent it privately to two men who not only answer – directly or indirectly – to him, but also have a direct say in Kuchar's employment. And I'm not the only one who thinks so. Some 40 Andover parents recently attended an Andover School Committee meeting looking for answers. According to published reports, Andover Selectman Bob Landry said the bigger issue wasn't the coaches, but Berman's questionable behavior.

"It is remarkable to me as a School Committee that you are ignoring the elephant in the room," Landry told committee members. "You have evidence now that the superintendent of schools wrote a six-page memo to two subordinates encouraging them to terminate the Andover High School hockey coach in clear retaliation for how he felt his own son had been treated. How that doesn't warrant an investigation by you immediately is beyond me."

The crowd applauded, but School Committee member Shannon Scully accused Landry of grandstanding.

"We can't entertain personnel matters in open meeting," she said. "This will be dealt with in executive session. If you don't mind getting off of your soap box that would be fantastic."

First, Ms. Scully, you CAN entertain personnel matters in an open meeting. This is a classic dodge that public boards use to avoid conducting public business publicly. There are exceptions that allow boards to meet in private, or "executive session." Here is the first one, per the state's Open Meeting Law Guide: "To discuss the reputation, character, physical condition or mental health, rather than professional competence, of an individual, or to discuss the discipline or dismissal of, or complaints or charges brought against, a public officer, employee, staff member or individual."

Note the phrase "rather than professional competence." Landry was specifically questioning Berman's professional competence. I agree. Berman was completely out of line with his memo. Now, you can say the " discipline or dismissal" phrase applies, but that doesn't prevent committee members from suggesting an open hearing with the coach and the superintendent. Did you ask, Ms. Scully?

If Kuchar or Berman decline, you then assure your constituents (yes, you work for them) that the full minutes of the "executive session" will be released once the issue is resolved, per state law. Your community deserves complete transparency.

Second, if you don't like people getting up on a soapbox, Ms. Scully, be more forthcoming. This isn't on Bob Landry. This is on the members of the Andover School Committee. Residents have every right to question whether the committee fully investigated Berman's memo. For it to come out in the press feeds that suspicion.

I've had this happen to me, though on a much smaller scale. I am an Old School coach who believes in working hard while we're on the ice. I owe that to my goalies, and to their parents and/or their program, who foot the bill. I also like having a good time. There's almost always a lot of laughter and good-natured ribbing during my sessions. My favorite students are those who can smile while working their tails off.

But I'm also the first to admit that my approach is not a one-size-fits-all. I welcome conversations with parents, especially if they think my style isn't working for their child. I can handle it. My only goal is to make sure my students gets the maximum out of their ability. Having fun is a close second, and important, but it's not my top priority. If that rankles a child, or parent, they need to talk to me, so I can understand what their priorities are. From there, I can adjust. But if parents take a backhanded approach, there's little I can do.

Two years ago, one of my bosses asked about a particular student. The young man had told his father that I made him feel bad about himself, and he didn't want to work with me. The father (who didn't attend the sessions) didn't contact me; he contacted my boss. When asked about the student, I answered honestly. I couldn't remember treating this young man any differently than any other student. I wasn't even sure what behavior I was answering for. But I was disappointed that neither the student nor his father brought their concerns to me.

Likewise, I'm a parent. My two daughters played varsity sports through high school, and my eldest continues to play collegiate volleyball. My wife (also a coach) and I haven't always seen eye-to-eye with the coaches that our girls have played for. But when we've had issues, we addressed them civilly, respectfully, and directly with their coaches. Not after games, or practices, but usually over coffee.

In short, it's okay if you don't agree with everything your child's coach does. But there's a right way to address those concerns. Don't do what Superintendent Berman did. That was the very definition of cowardice. He tried to leverage his position to oust a coach he didn't like. There's no place for that in youth hockey, or high school hockey. Berman, and the Andover School Committee and school officials, need to take a long, hard look in the mirror.

FINIS

Too much of a good thing is potentially bad for goalies

Goaltenders could learn a great deal from the Chinese philosophy
of yin and yang, where contrary or opposite forces are actually
complementary and interconnected in the natural world.

Hi gang,

Back after a brief sabbatical. Boy, there's nothing quite like serious hip surgery to help an old goalie regain his perspective. So I thought "perspective" would be a good topic to tackle this month.

Far too often, goalies (and young athletes in a variety of different sports) concentrate far too much on their chosen craft. There's a fine line between commitment (a good thing), and going overboard (a bad thing). And if you can't identify and respect where that line is, you risk losing perspective. Here's a column I did on the topic for the New England Hockey Journal. Let me know what you think.

All the best,
-Brion

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Too much of a good thing is potentially bad for goalies

"Get the balance right … "
-Depeche Mode

Almost every summer, I do a column or two on taking advantage of the off-season to work on improving your technique and keeping fit. Or improving your fitness. Because, as the old adage asserts, championships are won in the off-season.

One highly regarded goalie coach I work with delineates his roles between the off-season, when he calls himself a "development coach," and in-season, when he's a "performance coach." Translation? During the season, it's all about results. Just win, baby. The off-season is when he works on the big picture, the goalie's overall game. That's why summer camps are important. You can really push yourself, find out what works, and find out what doesn't, because you have time to assess the results without worrying about whether those results are affecting your team.

In-season is not the time to overhaul your game, or even experiment with new equipment (unless your old stuff is getting you hurt). You can tweak things, like your technique and your fitness level. It's always a good idea to be continuously mindful of what's working and what's not. Self-assessment is a trademark of all good goaltenders.

The same goes for hard work. Most goalies I know – especially the ones with a true competitive streak – will double down on their workouts if they feel their game is slipping. But there are limits.

Sometimes, we lose sight of a very simple, and very profound rule of athletics. You need time off. Your mind, and your body, need a break. The reality is that exhaustion, both mental and physical, can lead to poor performance. In other words, it's perfectly OK to chill from time to time. And that's something that parents, coaches, and even instructors like myself need to keep in mind.

"There's a growing enthusiasm, and a huge market, for training, teaching and supporting young athletes," said Dr. Adam Naylor, director of Telos Sport Psychology Coaching. "Elite sports performance and medicine services are available to all with a credit card, and if a family desires, a passionate and competent coach and advisor can be hired. This may not be a good thing.

"Forget the popular – yet very real – concern that pushing a young athlete toward athletic excellence can lead to burnout, dropout, and even mistreatment or abuse," he said. "Surprisingly, research has shown that encouraging youth to achieve athletic excellence can also lead to young athletes not fulfilling their athletic potential."

According to Naylor, we've become enamored with the works of researchers and authors like Anders Ericsson and Malcolm Gladwell (author of "Outliers") that indicate it takes 10 years and/or 10,000 hours of practice to perfect a certain activity, whether its computer programming, being a musician, or mastering a particular sport. Likewise, research by Angela Duckworth at the University of Pennsylvania has studied the value of "grit" in the classroom, and that has been applied to the playing field (or the ice, in the case of hockey).

Grit, according to Duckworth, is the "tendency to sustain interest in and effort toward very long-term goals," while self-control is "the voluntary regulation of behavioral, emotional, and attentional impulses in the presence of momentarily gratifying temptations or diversions." Both, it's safe to say, are considered attributes for a position as demanding as goaltending.

However, both concepts – repetition and grit – can be taken to extremes.

"In both cases, the message is loud and clear: train relentlessly and regularly and greatness is within grasp," said Naylor. "Unfortunately, this is an example of society and sports being deaf to nuance.

"Failure to understand Ericsson's entire conception of deliberate practice can make much athletic striving time ill-spent," he said. "Even if one is fortunate enough to have found excellent coaches and a sufficient number of competitive opportunities, striving toward excellence requires regular rest."

There's the rub. Athletes who push themselves to the breaking point, no matter how well-intentioned that effort is, risk breaking down. This past season, I was working with a freshman goaltender who was a coach's dream. The youngster was an absolute sponge when we talked about the technical aspects of the position, and he worked his tail off when we applied those lessons on the ice.

Then, one day, Andy (not his real name) was really dragging. He had no "pop" to his movements, and was continually dropping too quickly, instead of waiting on the shot. Once he dropped, he stayed down. So I asked him what was going on.

"I'm exhausted, coach," he said. "I did a leg workout after practice yesterday, and the day before. Today, I've got nothing."

"Well, d'uh," I replied. "You can't just keep running yourself into the ground, Andy. You've got to make sure you give yourself a chance to recover."

My response was almost a knee-jerk reaction, and had more to do with my prior life as an amateur mountain bike racer than my current role as a goalie coach. In my 30s, urged on by a few cycling pals, I started competing in mountain bike races. I wasn't ever very good, but I still wanted to get better. So I started training like a maniac, burying myself in these brutal training sessions day after day. Not exactly a scientific regimen.

Instead, I subscribed to the "No pain, no gain" theory so prevalent in the 1990s. If a one-hour training session was good, a 90-minute session was better. And, come the weekend, at the starting line, I had … nothing. Just like my freshman goaltender, I was toast. It didn't mean I couldn't race, but it was a slog.

So I started doing my homework, including long talks with my racing friends who had far more experience. The first thing they taught me was the "recovery ride." On Mondays and Tuesdays, especially post-race weekend, the gang would go out and soft pedal, spinning an easy gear just to encourage blood flow. We maintain a "conversational" pace, and never pushed our heart rates.

By mid-week, my legs had that "snap" that cyclist's love. I could push hard on Wednesday and Thursday, and then taper briefly on Friday. Then, come Saturday and Sunday, I had the lungs and legs to compete. Not that I was any threat to the top racers in the pack, but I could bring my best. Even better, I was having fun. Which is exactly what Naylor believes is a critical byproduct of rest.

"Physical and mental breaks during practice sessions, throughout seasons, and over the course of the year are necessary for an athlete to rebuild and return to play stronger and stronger," said Naylor.

"Hours of practice and participation in hyper-focused sports environments can saddle athletes with unnecessary expectations, where mistakes on the playing field are failures and stumbles feel like letting coaches and families down," said Naylor. "At the end of the day, sports is 'play.' When adults enthusiastically provide these opportunities but remove 'play' from the equation, something is amiss."

I couldn’t agree more.

FINIS

Bullying has no place on the ice, or in the locker room

Whether between boys or girls, bullying is wrong. Period.

Hey gang,

Heavy topic today. Bully is a very important topic for me, because it's the antithesis of what team sports should be about. Team sports are meant to build character, not tear it down. They should be an example that the whole is greater than the sum of the parts, not a vehicle that allows some players to gain some misguided "advantage" over their teammates.

After my sophomore year in high school, my family moved, from New Jersey to New Hampshire. It was there, during my first season with the Central High hockey team, that I saw bullying in all its ugliness. The seniors wanted to "initiate" me. I wasn't going to let that happen, and I got into a few locker-room brawls because I wouldn't back down. To make things worse (for me), I wouldn't let the seniors initiate the freshmen either, because I wouldn't stand by idly while these 15- and 16-year-olds were bullied. That's not what my parents, and former coaches, taught me.

Of course, my actions had repercussions, and that season was pretty miserable, from a team standpoint (though I did make some great friends who weren't among the seniors). However, three decades later, one of those freshman reached out to me, via Facebook, and told me that he never forgot how I stood up for him. Whatever modest success I had as an athlete, none of it compared to getting that note.

The column below prompted a small firestorm among some readers of the New England Hockey Journal, because they recognized the players and schools involved (although I refrained from using the real names of any player or any school). Those people missed the point. This column is about the deleterious effects of bullying, and why it should never be accepted, at any level. Let me know what you think ...And thanks for reading!

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Bullying has no place on the ice, or locker room

After a half century in the game of hockey, I thought I'd see it all (shades of Barry Melrose, who made the same comment after BU's Matt O'Connor handed Providence the tying goal in the 2015 NCAA final). Wrong.

Until now, I had never, ever, seen a mid-game fight between two high school goalies. Girls. On the same team. On the ice. During the break between periods, as the coach was giving instructions. In a lighthearted spring pick-up league. Crazy.

It was so surreal, that other parents and I thought the two girls were just goofing around. My daughter, who was on the same team as the combatants and on the bench right in front of the goalies, thought the same thing. When she realized that it was a genuine brawl, she stepped on the ice to separate the two, but she wasn't as quick as the coach.

That coach, to her credit, was on the girls in a heartbeat. Meanwhile, the mother of one of the goalies started screaming from the stands, and running toward the rink door.

"I've had enough of this," she hollered menacingly, pointing an accusatory finger directly at the girl who was tussling with her daughter.

It was a scene right out of some Fellini movie, unnerving and uncomfortable. Unless you knew the back-story. I did know part of that back-story, and quickly put the pieces together.

Just by chance, I had an opportunity to talk with the same mother before the game. It wasn't planned (at least not on my part). We had seen each other for the better part of the past two years, but never really had any serious conversation. But this afternoon, we found ourselves sitting together on a lobby bench, and we got to gabbing.

Her daughter, Abigail, was a high school freshman at Holy Name Prep (I'm refraining from using real names – people or schools – since I didn't have a chance to fully investigated the story). I say "was," because she transferred out of Holy Name in February, to another private school. The reasons, according to her mom, that precipitated that move were pretty disturbing.

Again, according to her mom, Abigail came to Holy Name the year before as an 8th grader, and was one of four goaltenders on the team. That's a dicey situation right off the bat. Most girls' high school teams are desperate for one goalie. Two is a luxury. Four is a problem, for obvious reasons. There's only one net, and one goalie plays. That meant Holy Name had three goalies in a back-up role.

During Abigail's 8th grade year, Holy Name had a senior goaltender who was the clear-cut starter. A natural order was established.

But, apparently, Abigail's stable mates – two freshman last year – were looking to the future, a future without the senior goaltender. So, according to Abigail's mother, the two targeted her daughter. The hazing started early, and soon became relentless. It ranged from annoying (a missing glove or other piece of equipment) to tampering (removing the edge from her skates) to physical abuse. Beatings. The mom said she regrets not taking pictures of the bruises that dotted her daughter's back and rib cage.

She said she went to school administrators, who told her she needed to talk to the coach (a male). She said she talked to the coach, but he said she needed to talk to school administrators. Talk about going in circles. Mom confided that it was clear that no one wanted to take responsibility. That's a damn same.

There's usually (but not always) two sides to every story. That's Journalism 101. But I've also learned that sometimes the story is simply the story. When a school, and a coach, stonewalls a parent, it typically raises suspicion. But rather than fight a deck that she felt was stacked against her daughter, the mom decided to enroll Abigail at another school. I told her that I hoped things would work out for her daughter, and went into the rink to watch some hockey.

That's when things went completely sideways. Abigail played the first half, and nothing seemed out of place. But, during the intermission between halves (again, this was springtime practice hockey), Abigail and the other goalie on her team started flailing away at each other.

A third goalie whom I happen to know, and who was skating as a forward in the same game, got off the ice at the same time as the goalies, and followed Abigail into the locker room to console her. When that girl came by the stands, I called her over, and asked if the second girl also went to Holy Name. "Yes," she said. "How did you know?"

Of course, I didn't, at least not until an hour before the game. But once I saw the girls taking swings, it made perfect sense. "Just a hunch," I said.

"Yeah, they've got history," said the girl.

And that was it. The first girl walked straight out of the rink, likely for the last time. Abigail and her parents spoke briefly to the rink manager, before also calling it a day. The game went on, and the little pas de deux between netminders was quickly forgotten. But I walked out of the rink that day with two long-time lessons being reinforced.

The first, of course, is you rarely know the entire story. If I hadn't had that chance conversation with Abigail's mother before the game, I would have cast the entire incident in an entirely different light. Even my daughter, who doesn't know either girl and was still puzzled by the whole incident afterward, said she was taken aback when the other goalie leveled Abigail.

All that said, I'm not buying the story Abigail's mom shared completely, not without getting both sides. But I've been around the game long enough to now that when a parent feels that strongly, there's usually some basis to her concerns.

The second, and equally important, is that bullying can never, ever be tolerated. Ever. I don't buy the "boys will be boys" or "girls will be girls" argument. Not anymore. I've seen this up close, and any coach that dismisses parental concerns out of hand probably ought to be dismissed.

Coaching a high school team goes far beyond X's and O's. Coaches need to accept and embrace the responsibility of how each player on their team behaves. The locker room is the coach's locker room. If they fail to police it adequately, they not only fail the boys and/or girls in that locker room, but also the parents who entrust their children to that particular program. That's especially true for men who coach girls' programs, because they don't have the same locker room access. It's imperative that they create a culture where bullying is not tolerated. At all.

I don't know everything that happened at Holy Name Prep, and what exactly led to Abigail feeling like she had no choice but to transfer to a different school. But I've seen far too many coaches fail in their responsibility to make sure that every child knows the locker room is a safe haven. There is no place for hazing, or bullying. None.

FINIS

The hidden dangers of overt practice celebrations

If you want to celebrate a goal in a game,
that's fine! Go ahead. But think twice about
doing it in practice, over and over again.

Hi gang,

The second day of November brought the season's first snowfall. Crazy! Fortunately, it didn't last long, and by today  the white stuff had melted away. But it got me thinking about this column. A good snowfall every now and then is fun. But after a while, if the snow continues to fall, the accumulation can wear on you (especially if you're the one doing all the shoveling).

Similarly, scoring a goal and celebrating, spontaneously, is one of the great joys of hockey. But when it's done repeatedly, or starts to become orchestrated, those celebrations lose their luster. When you celebrate every goal in practice like you've just scored the overtime winner in Game 7 of the Stanley Cup, it can have the same effect as that driving snowstorm. When you find a ton of snow dumped on your driveway day after day after day, you can suddenly lose your appreciation for all that fine white fluff.

That's how your goaltender feels when you and your teammates go overboard with each puck that crosses the goal line. It's tiresome. Worse, it can drive some kids from the position, and from the game. And that's a shame ...

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The hidden dangers of overt practice celebrations

The father's voice on the other end of the line was filled with frustration. For five minutes, I just let him unload, and here's what he told me. His son was a 10-year-old goalie who was rostered on the town's Squirt 2 team. Dad had no problem with the level of team his son was put on, but was troubled by the ongoing antics of a few teammates. To be precise, the young boy's father said several of his son's teammates were celebrating every goal in practice. Not just a fist pump or a shout, but a full-blown celebration straight out of the NHL Network's highlight reels. And the young goaltender was fed up with it. He didn't want to change in the locker room. He didn't want to hang out with his teammates. In fact, said his father, the young boy "didn't feel like part of the team." He was even thinking of quitting.

I couldn't blame the youngster for feeling discouraged, and despondent. It's one thing to be treated like a real-life pincushion during practice (based on the number of shots goalies face in most youth hockey practices, though I'm always hopeful that the tide is turning). It's another thing to be constantly humiliated because the team has a couple of self-centered goofballs partying like they've just won Lord Stanley's cup after every practice tally. It's adding insult to injury. Yet, for some odd reason, this behavior rarely warrants a second look from the coach.

This is one of the great laments of goalie parents. Imagine if your child was a Little League pitcher, and his (or her) teammates started jumping up and down and woofing every time they got a hit. In practice. Or how about if your child was batting, and the pitcher went into an orchestrated touchdown dance every time he got an out. Would you stand for that? I hope not. I know I wouldn't.

Yet, for some reason, this happens all the time in youth hockey practices, and few parents bat an eye. Even if they do notice it, everyone tends to get chalk up to "kids being kids." Everyone, that is, except the parents of the goalies. These ill-advised celebrations have a cumulative effect, and the end result is rarely good. Coaches need to do a better job policing this behavior, pure and simple.

There's an insidiousness to this behavior that coaches need to acknowledge, and should strive to recognize. It's fairly easy to shrug off the occasional celebration, but repetitive partying can wear a young goaltender down, quickly sucking the fun out of the game and taking the child's confidence with it. And once a child's confidence is gone, it's exceedingly difficult to recapture. Remember, these are young kids. An older goalkeeper will usually have the presence, and confidence, to tell his (or her) teammates to knock it off. But a child at the Pee Wee or Squirt level (or younger) may not. And that's where a coach needs to step in and stand up for he netminder.

Now, before you think I've gone soft, I want to be really clear on one point. I'm not saying that the kids who are celebrating are being intentionally mean-spirited, and I'm not saying that the coaches who allow this behavior are cold-hearted. A much more likely explanation is that both groups are simply ignorant. They don't think about the impact that excessive celebrating has on the young netminder. But ignorance is not an excuse.

Furthermore, whether they're cognizant of it or not, these kids are engaged in demeaning behavior. The idea is to embarrass someone else. Want proof? You rarely, if ever, see these demonstrations after a kid puts the puck past a plastic shooter tutor. It just doesn't happen. Why? Because the shooter tutor is an inanimate object. It offers no response. But a young kid with pads on is a perfect target.

There's a reason why the NFL penalizes excessive celebrations. It's unsportsmanlike, because it's showing up your opponent. It's another form of piling on. When a team in a youth hockey game goes up by four or five goals, most youth hockey coaches (though certainly not all) will employ a three-pass rule, or will switch up their line-ups, to avoid intentionally running up the score. Of course, there's the scoreboard serving as a big, bright reminder. In practice, these same coaches tend to turn a blind eye to these post-goal histrionics, shrugging it off with an "it's all in good fun" wave. But it's not fun for the goalie. I assure you.

This is a classic example of kids emulating their heroes, without the requisite maturity to understand when the behavior is appropriate, and when it isn't. They don't grasp the idea that every "celly" undermines the confidence of one of their most important teammates, the goaltender. I've actually had kids tell me they're just practicing their celebrations. Really? I mean, really? I tell them to keep practicing their shot instead.

Here's what I've done in the past to deal with these young chuckleheads. I usually start with a warning, explaining to them why over-the-top celebrations are both unnecessary and insulting. Most kids understand. Some don't (or they understand, but don't feel they need to change their behavior). For this latter group, I take a blunt, decisive approach. I tell them that they will suit up as goalie for the next practice.

You should hear the howls of protest. From the kids, and from their parents. Which always makes me laugh, because I suspect that, deep down, they know exactly how embarrassed they'd feel if they had to endure the same treatment. That's the lesson. Give them a taste of their own medicine.

Think about it another way. How about if the goalies hooted and hollered after every single save? Seems silly, right? So why should it be any different for the players shooting the pucks? The answer, obviously, is that it shouldn't.

One of the most difficult tasks for a goalie coach/advisor is to balance the often-competing concerns between parents and coaches. So I told this particularly parent to address his concerns, and the concerns of his son, with the team's coach. Oftentimes, that's all it takes. As mentioned earlier, this behavior will often go unnoticed only because the coach (or coaches) already has a dozens of issues he's thinking about, from power plays to breakouts to team defense.

However, if the coach dismisses these concerns, it's an indication that there's a disconnect. Don't be afraid to go to the program's board, as a concerned parent. You have that right. I never want to see goaltenders pampered. In fact, it's important to learn how to deal with these shenanigans, because I guarantee that other teams will employ them to unsettle your netminder. On the other hand, teammates ought to be building one another up, not tearing each other down. After all, that is the very essence of "team," and one of the most important lessons that hockey ought to be teaching our sons and daughters.

FINIS

Getting the balance right for young goaltenders

Not exactly the kind of balance I had in mind, but
pretty impressive nonetheless.

Hi gang,

Hope this finds you all enjoying a successful season. The midway point of the season is always a good time for me to reflect about why I coach. This season, that idea really hit home, since I just got back on the ice this month after hip revision surgery last September.

It was a long and sobering four-month recovery period, and I found myself counting my blessings that I still have the opportunity, and the privilege, to coach. Which brought me to this column, which I originally wrote for the New England Hockey Journal. It really gets to the heart of coaching, at least how I like to practice it. Let me know what you think ...

Getting the balance right for young goaltenders

Sometimes writers choose their column topics, and sometimes the topic chooses the writer. Maybe it's an editor who "suggests" a particular theme (to which the best responses are typically, "That's a great idea," or "I quit"). Other times, it's simply circumstance. This is one of those times.

In the past week, I had two young goalies who were reduced to tears during clinics, not because they got hurt, but because they were embarrassed, overwhelmed, or simply distraught. I'm not sure which, because I never found out what was upsetting them. As most parents can attest, when a child decides to clam up, it's all but impossible to break down that wall. Plus, I had to think of the other kids in those sessions, and it wouldn't be fair to them to allow one child to distract me from the task at hand.

However, both boys reminded me of another situation, last spring, when I watched a young goaltender sobbing uncontrollably after his Pee-Wee team was eliminated from a post-season tournament. Then, this week, I got an email from a concerned mom with a son who was struggling with the emotional demands of the position. She talked about how her son "loves playing goal, but when it comes to being scored on, his emotions take the best of him and he has (and does) cry in the net."

"(Johnny) likes to be a leader and is very confident in himself and outgoing, but he does have quite the temper at times and gets down on himself pretty bad when he lets a puck come through and is scored on," wrote the mom.

Her son, it should be noted, is a Squirt, which means he is only 9 or 10 years old. Sounds crazy, doesn't it? Normally, I'd simply tell his mom to remind her son that it's just a game, and not to take it too seriously. But then I thought of my own teary-eyed students (ages 7 and 9, respectively), and the inconsolable Pee-Wee goalie (who was 13). All were feeling a very real stress that they weren't able to deal with. Those events, combined, convinced me that I needed to give the subject more thought, and write about it.

If you spend enough time in a rink, it's easy to forget how young and impressionable these little netminders really are. It happens to me, and I work every week with "kids" from 6 to 56. We all have to be mindful – vigilant, actually – about the emotional well-being of the children we coach.

Of course, that doesn't mean pampering them, and therein lies the quandary for many coaches. We need to find the right balance, even if that balance point is something of a moving target. Every child, and every team, is different. Just like there's no "one size fits all" way to play goal, there's certainly no universal approach to coaching youngsters. They all bring their own set of characteristics, at different ages, and sometimes that includes some emotional baggage. We often don't know much about their home life, or their school day, or even their after-school activities with friends.

Therefore, it behooves us to be flexible, and keep an open mind when any of the kids appear to be off their game. So, here are a few thoughts to remember, primarily for coaches, but for parents as well.

In my goalie clinics, I always remind my shooters to keep their shots "age appropriate." The same goes for coaching. The younger the goaltender, the more important it is to keep the mood light. Again, hockey is a game, and we can't lose sight of that. Coaches can have expectations, but one of those is to make the game enjoyable.

During my first year coaching a local Squirt team, my assistant coach asked: "So, what are your expectations for the season?" My reply – "I want to make sure every child has so much fun that they want to play next year." – was clearly a bit too abstract. He wanted to work on our forecheck and transition game, which was fine. I let him handle the X's and O's of our practice and game planning. Meanwhile, I was the mood czar, pushing kids when I thought they could handle it, and backing off when they needed a softer touch.

Coaches, engage your parents. Parents, engage the coaches. It's critical to have everyone on the same page. That's doesn't mean you'll always agree. I recently had a post-clinic chat with a parent who didn't like my approach. He wanted more repetition, less instruction. I calmly explained my rationale, and why it was crucial for me to set the agenda, not his son. I also reminded him that repetition without proper technique often leads to bad habits.

The distinction, of course, was this was a private lesson, and the father could opt not to have his son participate. A team setting is a bit trickier. Still, the more coaches and parents know about each other's expectations, the better prepared they are to handle the bumps in the road that inevitably crop up.

Be firm, but be fair. It's perfectly acceptable to set goals, and have structure. Structure breeds efficiency. But don't be a slave to it. When you're on the ice, it's OK to say "Let's get to work." I've always told my players that winning makes the game a lot more fun, and hard work greatly improves your chances of winning.

That said, it's just as important to maintain perspective. Be aware. If a child is upset, it's your responsibility (as a coach) to at least try to figure out why. If you can't, give the child a break from the action to settle down, and follow up afterward with the parents. There may be external issues that you don't know about, or have no control over, but will help you gain a better understanding of the situation.

Don't single out the goaltender. Ever. Even if your young netminder is solely responsible for a bad outing (an extremely rare occurrence, by the way), there is little benefit from publicly chastising the kid. Don't let parents, or the other kids, do it either. There are usually hundreds of "mistakes" made during the game that either go unnoticed, or don't lead directly to goals. The difference for goaltenders is that their mishaps often wind up on the scoreboard. That's a tremendous amount of pressure, especially for a youngster who hasn't developed the requisite emotional maturity.

During a game, there's never a good time for the goalie to lose his or her cool. We have an adage in coaching circles: "You never want one bad goal to lead to another bad goal." As a coach, encourage your goaltender to focus on the next shot. Once a goal is behind him, he has to let it go. There's nothing he can do about it. If the child loses his temper, he's far more likely to let in another bad goal. Goalies, even young goalies, need to learn early that an even temperament is best. A temper tantrum works against him, and against his team. That lesson has to be a mantra, repeated over and over again. Be consistent.

Finally, be positive. We're in the growth business. We want our kids to improve. Routinely, one of my favorite moments during a goalie clinic is when I tell a child, "I don't care how many goals you give up here. I don't choose your team, or who the starting goalie is. I just want to see you get better." The relief that typically follows is often cathartic, and it's not surprising to see the same youngster play much better once he (or she) relaxes. It's the ultimate win-win. A happy, relaxed goalie, playing well. What could be better?

FINIS

Keep track of the shots your goalies face in practice ...

How many shots is too many? Coaches, you should know ...

Hi gang,

So here we are, on the cusp of Labor Day weekend, which means the eve of another hockey season (don't ask me what happened to ice hockey being a winter sport ... when my daughter's U-14 team hits the ice before the Boston Bruins, something is very, very wrong). That, of course, means it's time for my annual plea for coaches to remember to keep the number of shots their goalies see within reason. Do it for the good of your goalie, and the good of your team. Here's my column on just that topic, originally written for the New England Hockey Journal.

Please, coaches, keep practice shots within reason

Much of what we do in coaching is about repetition. To develop the proper muscle memory and technique, the same maneuver has to be repeated hundreds and hundreds of times – correctly – before it becomes second nature. So I'm going to risk repeating myself in order to remind coaches that hammering your netminder in practice is a sure-fire way to ruin your young prospect. Consider this my annual appeal, not necessarily for sanity, but awareness.

Here's the flawed logic that far too many coaches – and I've seen this even at the elite levels – employ: The more shots, the better. Even in "warm-ups" (a classic oxymoron in this instance). Little attention is paid to exactly what kind of shots the goalie sees, as long as they're coming in large quantities. It's almost as if the coach just expects goalies to miraculously or intuitively to develop perfect technique by facing a mind-numbing number of pucks. Worse, some coaches don't even notice how many shots a kid sees.

Just last month, I was sitting with the mom and grandfather of a young goaltender as they watched their son/grandson at practice. Now, the grandfather knew a thing or two about goaltending, having raised a son who played at the prep school, college, and even minor league levels (earning himself a cup of coffee in the American Hockey League along the way). And Granddad was obviously frustrated watching as his grandson being used as a piñata.

"I think coaches, even good coaches, just don't get it. My grandson is just sitting there, like a target," said the gentleman. "The coaches mean well, but they're oblivious. They don't know how to coach goalies."

Bingo! Still, you'd expect that kind of comment from a frustrated parent or grandparent. I felt exactly the same way when my eldest daughter played goalie in lacrosse. The drills, it seemed to me, where set up specifically to discourage anyone from ever wanting to play the position. And my daughter, being a relatively bright kid (and not having a masochistic streak), got the message pretty quick, and found a different position to play. To some degree, however, I put the onus of my daughter's decision on the coach, who clearly lacked an appreciation for what goalies go through.

Frankly, I'm baffled that more coaches don't see this. Perhaps, like the aforementioned grandfather said, "It's because they've never been goalies." That's true, to an extent. It is a unique position, and just like I don't expect goalies to pick up techniques through osmosis, the same probably applies to coaches. Still, they're adults, and the issue goes beyond personal experience. Volunteer coaches don't need to be experts on goalie instruction, but they need to develop a better understanding of what drills work – and, probably more importantly, don't work – for their young netminders.

I've used this example before, but it bears repeating. If you've got 20 kids lined up in a shooting drill, the goalie is seeing 20 pucks for every shot each individual kid takes. That means, if one kid takes five shots (over the course of a five-minute drill), the goalie is trying to stop 100 shots. In five minutes. That's the perfect recipe for burnout.

Moreover, it's a great way for kids to get hurt. The reality of youth hockey is that the drills that look good on paper often fall apart on the ice. Faster kids start creeping up on top of slower kids, or kids who can't control the puck, and before you know it, the goalie is seeing two or three shots simultaneously. Essentially, you're asking kids between the ages of 8 and 14 to use common sense and look up before shooting. Well, forget it. It just doesn't happen. Heck, it doesn't even happen at the high school level. Most positional players simply aren't wired that way. I sometimes suspect they don't see the goalie at all.

I've lost count of the number of times I've seen youngsters hit by shots, often in unprotected areas, while they're concentrating on the previous shot. This happened to my daughter in lacrosse practice all the time (with the blessings of a clueless coach). It's like asking a Little League batter trying to hit baseballs being thrown by three different pitchers. Most baseball coaches would say that's nuts (and they'd be right). But that's exactly what far too many youth hockey coaches do.

Even if your goalie is fortunate enough to escape getting hurt, the fallout of seeing too many pucks in too little time is another career-killing trait, the Yips. We've all seen kids (often the bigger, stronger kids) skate between the between the hash marks, with their heads down, and crank a slap shot not 10 feet from the goalie. I bet most parents would flinch as well. And once a goalie becomes puck shy, you've got a real problem.

These machine-gun shooting drills are also a guaranteed way to encourage bad habits. Believe me, it's far more difficult to break a young goalie's bad habits than it is to build good habits in the first place. That's why I firmly believe that the Old School way of incorporating goalies is doing a great disservice to these young men and women. When was the last time you saw a coach hold up a drill to instruct a goalie? Again, it doesn't happen.

Here's one last overarching reason you should dispense with repetitive shooting drills. They're not realistic. They … Never … Happen … In … A … Game! I'm not trying to be a smart aleck here (honest!). In a game, there is one puck, and the goalie's chief responsibility, in addition to keep that biscuit out of the net, is to follow it. Everywhere. I tell my goalies that on a 200-by-85 sheet of ice, the only thing they can't lose sight of measures only 1 inch by 3 inches. If they do, they can't get themselves in the best position to do their first job, and make the save.

So what coaches need to do is think outside the box. Create drills that resemble game situations, and emphasize following that single puck, allowing goaltenders to react to the initial shot, and the second and third shots. Have kids come in from a variety of angles (not just a straight ahead breakaway) so the goalie develops crease awareness. Make the goalie follow the puck as it moves across the ice, and not simply sit in the one spot where they expect the shot to come from. Employ screens and tip drills. Make your goalies, and the rest of your players, get after rebounds (this will help develop the tenacity to win those goalmouth battles). Give you goalies, and players, the required time to recover before seeing a new puck (sometimes just a few seconds is all that's needed).

Mostly, just be aware of that kid in the pads between the pipes. Put yourself in his or her skates. Your goalie will benefit, and your team will benefit.

FINIS

Why every player needs to put on the goalie pads

Does this look like a target to you?

Hi gang,

With just a few weeks of summer camps remaining, and the start of youth hockey seasons on the horizon, I thought I'd revisit one of my favorite topics. Year after year after year, I witness kids -- and even coaches -- who treat their goalies like an inanimate bulls-eye. That phenomenon prompted me to write about one of my own long-held coaching beliefs in a column for the New England Hockey Journal. It proved to be one of my more controversial columns, but I still stand by it. Let me know what you think.

Why every player needs to put on the goalie pads

I'm the first to admit my coaching style can be unconventional on occasion. I'm OK with that, because the position, and the game, continues to evolve. And I'm always happy to explain my rationale. The reality is, much of the hockey coaching and hockey parenting that you'll find today is demonstrably Old School, typically based on the "that's how I learned the game" theory (which explains, in part, the resistance to USA Hockey's well-reasoned call for cross-ice games at the Mite level).

So, on the eve of a brand new season, here's another of my offbeat ideas. It's my firm belief, certainly not shared by the majority of hockey parents, that every player ought to spend at least one game in goal. Not a practice, but a game. At least once.

Five years ago, I was coaching my daughter's Squirt team. Our squad had a half-time goalie who was also playing for another team. To accommodate the absences, I implemented a rule at the start of the season that everyone had to take a turn playing a game in the nets. My reasoning was twofold. First, from a practical standpoint, I figured one or two of my young charges might actually like playing between the pipes, which would solve a raft of problems.

Second, though, I wanted every kid to understand what it feels like to get pelted with pucks. It's been my experience that some of the biggest crybabies are the same kids who, in practice and "warm ups," take slap shots from five feet away, or fire away regardless of whether the goalie is actually looking (or preoccupied with the previous shooter), or constantly shoot high, flinging pucks at the goalie's head. They're also the first to blame the goaltender for a soft goal.

So I wanted to make sure that everyone experienced that unique anxiety that the position brings, hoping to instill a little compassion (not a bad exchange for only 36 minutes of game action). And it worked pretty well, in part because it was a "shared burden" that all the kids understood, and it was established right from the get-go. Until the final week of the season. There was one kid – let's call him "Oscar" – who never volunteered to play, and I'm convinced he and his parents were just hoping he'd fly under the radar, and escape the responsibility. They didn't know me.

I called Oscar out for the last game of the season, and told him that I expected him to suit up for the last pre-game practice, just so he could get comfortable with the gear. His mom pulled me aside, and said her son was incredibly nervous about playing goal. I told her I could understand that, but coming to me at the end of the season, when the policy had been in place for six months, was not only bad form, but also limited my options. I reminded Oscar's mom that every child had already played goal (a few, including my daughter, several times), and it wouldn't be fair for me to give her son a pass. After all, lots of the kids weren't wild about playing goal, but they all had stepped up (and none, to my knowledge, had suffered grave emotional scars).

Last, I told Oscar's parents what I figured they already knew, that there are many, many times in life when we're asked to do things we're not entirely comfortable with, and avoiding those moments is not the ideal approach.

So what did Oscar and his parents do? They bailed. Just didn't show up for the final game. Was I surprised? Not in the least (in fact, I'd already warned my daughter – the joy of being the coach's kid – to be ready to suit up if Oscar went AWOL). But was I disappointed? Absolutely. Rather than subject their child to a short lesson in facing up to his fears, Oscar's folks let him skate free. Please tell me what, if any, benefit could be derived from that?

Somewhat predictably, Oscar didn't return the next season. I don't know if he went to another program or not. On one hand, it saddens me to think he may have quit the sport over this situation. On the other hand, if a 36-minute stint in the nets is enough to sour him on the sport, better he find out early that he's not cut out to be a hockey player.

Here are the lessons that Oscar missed out on. First, goaltending is hard. Kids who don't play the position don't understand how tough it can be (much like coaches who never played in the nets). It requires an entirely different skill set, from skating to setting up on your angles. You've got to follow a rock-hard puck, measuring only one-by-three inches, and stop it from entering a four-by-six foot goal. And you've got to do it while trying to move around in bulky gear designed to protect you. That's a tall order for most youngsters.

Second, you can't take a shift off. Regular players make mistakes all the time, but most of the time those gaffs don't result in goals. Coaches might see the mistakes, which can lead to some tough love on the bench. Kids, though, rarely notice the errors of their linemates. But they do notice the goals, and if a goalie makes a mistake that leads directly to a goal, that goalie is going to hear about it from his or her peers.

Which leads to my third point – Goalies, even young ones, face tremendous pressure. Even on teams with enlightened coaches, who try to shield their netminders from unwarranted criticism, being the last line of defense is no picnic. I'm sure this was the major reason Oscar refused to play. But I'm just as certain that, if you never play the position, you never develop the appreciation of that particular brand of torture. We live and die a little bit with each save and each goal (that probably goes double for goalie parents).

I still remember the breakaway goal that Mike LaValliere (the former Pittsburgh Pirates catcher) scored on me in high school, when the puck hit my glove, my shoulder, and then agonizingly rolled down my back into the net. The year? 1975. That's how much goalies carry the weight of each goal with them (fortunately, my memory has become much more selective during my beer-league career!).

Giving regular players a small taste of that isn't a bad thing. Hopefully, the experience develops a little empathy, and camaraderie, within a hockey team. Try it.

FINIS

Coaches can't forget the goalies

Working with the youngsters of Agawam Youth Hockey.

Hi gang,

The hockey season, just like "the winter that never was," faded quickly this year. Especially given my work covering college hockey for ESPNBoston, the end of the season is like an overtime game, with all the excitement and adrenaline building to a crescendo. And then ... Nothing.

So, it's in this lull between the season's finale and summer camps that I like to take stock of what I feel are some of the major issues facing young goaltenders. And here's a column on one of those critical topics, originally written for the New England Hockey Journal.

COACHES MUST TAKE OWNERSHIP

Psssst! Hey, coach! Yeah, I'm taking to you. This column is not for players or parents (thought they're welcome to read along). This one is for you, coach, the man or woman who has admirably accepted responsibility of teaching this young group of boys or girls (or both). I commend you to taking on such a huge – and often underappreciated – task. And I'm going to ask you to do more. I'm going to ask to you spend a little more time understanding the role of the goaltender.

Keep in mind, I don't make this request lightly, or without understanding all the pressure you folks already face. I'm a youth hockey coach too, and fully aware of the juggling act that it involves. It's time-consuming, and the on-ice challenges are only the tip of the iceberg. But, at the end of the day, we signed on for this, and if we want our team – not just goaltender, but the entire team – to be successful, we should pay more attention to the kids who get between the pipes.

Because, typically, we don't. Instead, here's what I've found in my two decades of coaching. Most hockey coaches want to hand off the goaltending responsibilities to someone else. Sort of like calling the plumber the second the toilet backs up, instead of getting the plunger yourself.

Now, I realize that, as a goalie coach, I stand to gain from this arrangement. It's not my full-time job, by any means, but I am a professional, and take those responsibilities very seriously. Plus, I love it. And the reality is, the position is so unique that it will always require specific instruction. But that doesn't mean that head coaches can abdicate their own responsibilities in helping develop good goaltenders.

If they do, they risk creating a situation that's like couples in a struggling marriage, when just one spouse goes to counseling. To be effective, both partners need to sign on if they hope to gain any real insights. Likewise, hockey coaches need to design practices that benefit everyone. In short, coaches must do a better job of incorporating goaltenders, which means understanding the unique requirements of the position. That means creating practice plans that feature more realistic drills (and avoiding the dreaded "50 shots in 50 seconds" scenario).

For example, in small-ice scrimmages, allow your goaltenders to tie up the puck. In their lust for non-stop action, coaches are always telling their goalies "Play it! Play it!" Instead, they ought to say "Tie it up." This develops the mindset of gathering the puck (yes, it can be a learned behavior), which will pay dividends in those tight games.

Coaches should also know the basic terminology, and the basic techniques, of goaltending. This would allow them to have goalie-specific warm-ups, instead of having the goalies skating end-to-end with everyone else (which is good for their cardiovascular fitness, but little else). So here's a quick primer:

Getting Square

A huge component to successful goaltending is getting square to the puck. This means facing the puck not just with your eyes and head, but your chest (many coaches refer to having a spotlight on the chest, and shining that light on the puck). When a goalie sets up properly, his shoulders, hips, knees and skates are all equidistant from the puck, presenting the biggest surface area possible.

The Shuffle

This is a surprisingly difficult maneuver to younger, or inexperienced, goaltenders (if you don't believe me, try it yourself). The idea is to move laterally, in your stance, while facing the puck, without opening the hips. The key is keeping the skates (or toes) facing the puck, virtually parallel, and allowing the lead skate (your left, if you're moving to the left) to glide while the trailing leg supplies the power.

The Drop Step

Once known as the T-glide, this move evolved when it proved to be quicker, and more efficient, to drop the leading skate to the heel of the drive skate, forming an "L" before pushing off. So, if a goalie is moving left, the left skate drops back, heel to heel with the right skate, pointing left. This helps open the hips properly, and then the goalie drives off the back, or right, skate toward the left, stopping on the leading skate (not the same skate you pushed off on).

The Butterfly

Often mistaken as a style, the butterfly is really a save technique (i.e. you don't use it all the time). There's a big difference between a well-executed butterfly, and simply flopping to the ice. In the latter, the goalie lets gravity do the work, the arms and butt typically dropping too low, and the stick flying away from the 5-hole. When done correctly, the butterfly is a tight, disciplined move, where the knees are driven to the ice, the butt and hands stay high (allowing the goalie to remain "big"), and the stick stays on the ice, covering the 5-hole. Also, be aware if your young netminder drops too quickly, especially on shots going over the net. The butterfly requires patience (not a strong suit of little 'keepers).

The Butterfly Slide

Another move that proficient goalies make look easy. Youngsters, though, tend to "hop and flop," turning out in a drop-step motion and then jumping to the side. In the butterfly slide, the skates continue to point at the puck, like a shuffle. The lead pad drops to the ice, and the drive legs loads (as in a squat) and pushes off. So, again, if a goalie is moving left, the left knee drops first, the goalie loads the edge of the right skate, and pushes off to the left. When done correctly, the upper body remains quiet, and the stick blade tracks in front, between the skates to cover the space that a goalie must open to push effectively.

The Butterfly Push

In this quick recovery move, the goalie is already down in the butterfly, on his knees. To execute the butterfly push, the goalie lifts the back knee to the chest, setting the edge of the back skate underneath him. This is what he pushes off of. So, if the goalie wants to move to the right, the left knee comes to the chest, the left edge sets underneath, and the goalie pushes off that edge to the right, while keeping the lead pad flush to the ice.

Recovery

A common problem for young goalies is they tend to always recover on the same leg. This is their dominant leg. But as I tell my students, dominant legs are for soccer players, not hockey goalies. The correct recovery leg is predicated by the direction of the puck. And 95 percent of the time, that means recovering on the back leg (which is why I say that goaltending is predominantly rear-wheel drive). If a rebound squirts to the right, the goalie recovers on the left leg, which allows him to push into the direction of the puck. If he recovers on his right leg, all he can do is get straight up, then turn and push. In a game as quick as hockey, that's two moves too many.

The Belfour, or Paddle Down

Perhaps the single most overused maneuver in the game today, and often used incorrectly, the Paddle Down technique was names after Hall of Famer Ed Belfour, who knew how to use it. The concept is sound – when the play is in tight, the paddle down along the ice takes away the bottom of the net. However, far too many goalies use the technique all the time, and usually at the wrong time. In most instances, it's far more preferable keep the stick blade on the ice, in the 5-hole.

Finally, educate yourself. Entire generations, mine included, learned the position almost exclusively via self-taught techniques. I still have my dog-eared copy of Jacques Plante's classic, "Goaltending" (which even featured a chapter with Tony Esposito discussing the radical "V" or "butterfly" style). This tome, though outdated, still is grounded in the bedrock principles that all goalies can benefit from.

Today, though, you've got a slew of web sites (start with USA Hockey) and YouTube clips that can provide the basics and beyond. Other excellent resources include books such as Brian Daccord's "Hockey Goaltending," Francois Allaire's "The Hockey Goalie's Complete Guide," and Jim Corsi's "The Hockey Goalie's Handbook." Daccord and Joe Bertagna, both former goalie coaches for the Boston Bruins, also have top-notch instructional videos that reinforce the fundamentals of the position in easy-to-understand terms.

So hit the books (or the videos), and design a complete practice plan. You owe it to your goaltenders, and your entire team will benefit.

FINIS