"Elite" hockey is no panacea ... Do your homework

Expect a crowd at elite team tryouts.

Hi gang,

Having just wrapped up a weekend conference with Brian Daccord's Foundation of Goalie Research and Education (FGRE) in Woburn, Mass., I was reminded that I've fallen behind on my blog. So I'll try to make up for lost time ... Here's the first of three posts, starting with one of my favorite topics -- so-called "elite" or "select" programs.

In short, the phrase "buyer beware" instantly comes to mind. These programs don't always provide an "elite" experience for your child, and you should do everything you can to learn more before signing on the dotted line, and committing hundreds of dollars, to make sure the program will be a good fit. In fact, several coaches this weekend told stories of appalling behavior by some programs, which were willing to back-stab players they had already selected if if meant an upgrade (telling me that this topic is, unfortunately, still current).

The lesson? You need to advocate for your child, because too many of these programs won't. Let me know what you think ...

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"Elite" hockey is no panacea … Do your homework

Select and elite hockey programs will promise you the world. I'm here to put a pin in their over-inflated balloon. That doesn't reflect any deep-seated malice. I do it because my only loyalty is to my readers. My goalies, their parents, their coaches. That gives me a certain freedom. Directors of "select" and "elite" programs don't have that luxury. They are beholden to their bottom lines.

Here's my cautionary tale. By the time you read this, my daughter will have finished her high school career. That's liberating. Like any parent, I was hesitant to criticize any organization that Brynne played for, concerned about in-season retribution (which, believe, happens, and happens often). But they often deserved criticism.

The following observations are generalized, occasionally focusing on goalies. In her first two years of "select" hockey, Brynne (a defenseman) played for a program on Massachusetts's North Shore. Her first year was a dream, with two great coaches who were dedicated to their players. It was an incredibly rewarding experience for Brynne as she transitioned from her co-ed youth hockey program.

The bubble burst a year later. Brynne was placed on a Tier 2 full-season team (the right placement, based on her tryout), despite my telling the program director that she was playing for her high school team. "That's OK," the director replied. "We want our girls getting more ice time."

The director's tone changed completely a month into the season. She and the coach realized that half the team was playing high school hockey, and MIAA rules often prevented those girls from participating in practices and games. The team struggled. The director called a parent meeting, asking for more commitment. We reminded her that she knew these girls were playing high school hockey.

Brynne switched to another "North Shore" program the following year, joining several high school teammates. Brynne's U-16 team had a "coach" who showed up for maybe half the games. Not a good sign. Since I was driving Brynne, I volunteered repeatedly to work with the goalies. I never once got a reply. Bad sign No. 2.

The next year, we got lucky. Brynne's Tier 2 U-19 team had several girls from the same prep school (for car-pooling purposes). Again, no coach was provided. Instead, two of the prep school parents and I volunteered to work the games, and the girls had a terrific season. But the goalies didn't get any in-practice instruction. The assumption was they'd find outside help.

This past season was the breaking point. Tryouts were a joke. After the last one, girls got herded into waiting area, and called in individually, best players first. They were asked to sign on immediately, before the director called in the next girl. After an hour, he sent everyone else home. We had to wait two days before learning that Brynne was again placed on a Tier 2 U-19 team, which was a mild disappointment (especially after we discovered some Tier 1 players never tried out).

However, one of Brynne's best friends was also on the team, and the director promised a high school coach. So we agreed to sign up. The first red flag was that coach missing the Beantown Classic, a summer tourney. The director advertised pre-tourney practices, but charged extra. Those practices conflicted with a camp that Brynne was already participating in, which we'd paid for. We declined, despite the director's complaints, realizing the practices were nothing more than a money grab.

The second flag shot up when the "coach" apparently hurt her foot before the season, and bailed. Just quit. The director again asked parents to pitch in. So, for the third straight year, Brynne's team didn't have a paid coach. No, there was no corresponding discount in the cost. Guess who pocketed that difference?

And our poor goalies – one a freshman playing for a U-19 team, and another who clearly needed instruction – got no help. Practices were a shooting gallery. Great, huh?

This stuff happens on the boys' side as well. Last July, I was talking to a pair of goalie dads. One I've known for years. The other had just moved his family to the area. During our chat, I learned the son of the new guy had displaced another young goalie we work with. In mid-summer, when team rosters are already set.

But the program these kids play for didn't care. They thought they found a better goalie, so they just cut the other boy. Here's your deposit, see you later. Oh, did I mention these kids are 12? What does that tell you about the program's commitment to each youngster?

The reality is that these programs are about winning, first and foremost. Because winning records (and trophies) draw more players. Better players. Which leads to more winning. What gets lost in that formula? Any genuine commitment to the players. They become replaceable. For an organization that purports to support youth development, that's reprehensible.

Keep this in mind if your youngster isn't an absolute stud: Don't expect equal instruction for equal payment. Some programs might provide that, but many don't. Talk to plenty of people before choosing a program, especially parents. Program directors often lie. Parents have far more likely to give you the straight scoop.

And, just to absolutely clear (and fair), these problems can happen at other levels. Here's an example of bad adult behavior at a town program.

I got a call last summer from a friend who is also a hockey mom. She was livid. Her son, "Pete," had played for a local youth hockey program for years, alternating between goalie and defense. He was very good at both.

With middle school looming, my friend's son decided to retire his goalie gear. The youth program had different ideas. Pete tried out as a defenseman. But when the team placements came out, my friend and her son got a rude surprise. Here's the email exchange between mom and program.

Town hockey program email No. 1: "We spend a LOT of time deciding on what team is right for your child, based on your child's tryout."

Town hockey program email No. 2: "Your child is assigned to Team X, at Goalie."

Mom's email reply: "My child didn't try out as a goalie."

Town hockey program: Crickets.

The placement was patently unfair. Courageous kids – those who volunteer to play goal – often get a raw deal when no one else has the guts to step up. That's wrong. To prejudice any child because of his or her ability to play the position is even worse.

The program was notified beforehand that Pete wasn't playing goal. By all accounts, he was one of the better defenders at tryouts. But with enough players for three teams, and only a single goalie, the program's "adults" took matters into their own hands, and assigned Pete to a Tier 2 PeeWee team, separating him from his friends on the Tier 1 squad.

Mom called the program president to reiterate that Pete didn't try out as a goalie. She got a voicemail from another board member, asking her to reconsider.

"I got seven unsolicited emails today from other parents incredulous that (Pete) wasn't on the 1's roster, skating out," she told me. "And (program organizers) wonder why enrollment has plummeted."

I don't blame my friend one bit. Hockey parents have a well-deserved rap of being a little unhinged. This isn't one of those cases. The organization put her, and her son, in an untenable position, simply because he had experience playing goal. That's unacceptable.

FINIS

Two shining examples of goaltenders we can admire

Quinnipiac's Eric Hatzell proved hard work pays off.

Hi gang,

Now that the curtain has come down on college hockey's Frozen Four - congrats to Colin Stevens and his Union College Dutchmen for their first NCAA crown! - I've got some time to catch up on my blog. Though the following column was actually written last spring for the May, 2013 issue of the New England Hockey Journal, I think the lessons it addresses are timeless. Hope you agree. As always, let me know what you think ...

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Two shining examples of goaltenders we can admire

When the ridiculously long "regular" youth hockey season finally comes to a close, I always find a few leftover topics that I meant to address but never got to, for one reason or another. Here are two that tie together nicely.

First, I wanted to follow up on the remarkably selfish and immature exit of the high school goalie in Farmington, Minnesota. Remember this clown? He's the guy who literally threw away a game on Senior Night as his way to exact revenge on his coaching staff, because he wasn't getting enough playing time (The Goalie Guru, March 2013). I can't even bring myself to mention the kid's name, because I don't want him to have any more publicity.

What I will do, however, is celebrate the actions of another high school senior, Matthew Nemia.

According to Mike Geragosian, owner of All-American Goaltending and the goalie coach for Boston University, young Mr. Nemia was a senior at Wellesley High School in Massachusetts this past season. Though only 5-foot-5, with a slight learning disability (speech), Nemia started the season on fire, with two shutouts in his first two games, including the Raiders 1-0 win over rival Needham, Wellesley's first win against the Rockets in a decade.

But then Nemia "got a little off his miracle game," said Geragosian, and the starting job went to a sophomore (a situation identical to the senior in Farmington, MN). The difference is that Nemia was a model teammate, despite losing his starting spot.

"Interesting how similar situations can be handled very differently," said Frank Nemia, Matt's father, after reading about the Farmington fiasco. "Matt has been nothing less than supportive to the sophomore. He was a true leader and senior as he continued to drive underclassmen to practices and encourage his teammates. He is a solid goalie who is quick, agile, and a smart hockey player and student. Despite his challenges, he developed into a solid student academically who was accepted to all of his colleges, including Roger Williams University, University of Scranton, Loyola Maryland, and Fairfield."

On Senior Night, Nemia's commitment to the team was rewarded, and he got the nod against a strong Framingham club. Nemia held the Flyers scoreless through two periods before eventually dropping a 3-0 decision. But he was able to leave the game, and his high school career, with his head held high.

"There was no doubt that Matt felt similar frustrations with his coaches and the situation, but handled it with class and maturity," said Frank Nemia. "This was a life lesson for Matt. It is where kids and the fun of sports create challenges that they just did not count on. As Matthew ends his high school career, one thing was certain – he grew up through this experience.

"Matt learned you cannot control all the events of your life but can control how you respond to them. He realized the importance of character and dealing with the challenges of life."

We, as hockey coaches, like to talk about the important lessons that this game teaches, lessons that go beyond the ice and the locker room. But those lessons can fall on deaf ears if parents don't reinforce them. As a hockey coach who has seen his fair share of parental interference, and as a father, I have to salute not only Matthew Nemia, but his parents as well, for never losing sight of the big picture. Matt Nemia dealt with a difficult situation with class and maturity. Our sport needs more like him.

Speaking of maturity, and people making a difference, I wanted to give a shout-out to Quinnipiac University goaltender Eric Hartzell. The Minnesota native had a monster senior year for the Bobcats, being named a Hobey Baker finalist while leading Quinnipiac to the Frozen Four and the NCAA championship game.

"Obviously I'm thrilled with the year he's had, helping us win games," said Bobcat coach Rand Pecknold. "But it's been a pleasure on my end to watch him mature as a person, from where he was as a freshman. That's one of the nice things about having a kid for four years.

"Eric Hartzell is the perfect example of what's great about college hockey," said Pecknold. "Because at 21 years old, which is when you have to leave major junior, he was not ready to play pro hockey. At 23 years old now, he's ready to play pro hockey. He just needed a little more time to mature."

I've seen Hartzell's maturation firsthand. At Stop It Goaltending, we worked with him early in his collegiate career. While his talent was undeniable, his work ethic was inconsistent at best. He was a raw gem who needed refinement, but wasn't always inclined to put in the requisite effort. Clearly, he's turned it around at Quinnipiac.

"He's been just an incredible, solid block back there for us to build off of," said Bobcat captain Zach Currie. "We have a lot of skill out in front of him, but his commitment to his game and his practice habits and his focus is next to none. He's obsessed with the little things, and building on getting better each and every day."

Two years ago, I don't know anyone who would have said that Hartzell's practice habits were exceptional. One of the most important lessons that Hartzell has learned is this: The benefits of hard work far outweigh any of the blood, sweat and tears that must be sacrificed in order to improve your game.

"The boys all get along so well together. When we go from play time to work time, it's the same thing. We're all striving for the same goal, so it's fun to be on a team like this," said Hartzell just before the NCAA playoffs. "We know what we have to do every night to be successful. And I think that's why we are so successful. Every guy shows up to the rink and practices every day. They know their roles, and every guy does his job really, really well. And our identity is just an an extremely hard-working team, from start to finish."

Notice that last part, about hard work? There is simply no substitute for it. Regardless of your God-given talents, whatever they may be, you will never, never reap the full benefit of them unless you're willing to put in the work.

Hartzell is a great model. A few summers ago, he showed up out of shape, and didn't last a week. Admittedly, I was among several coaches who wondered if he had the intestinal fortitude to make the commitment to be a great player.

Well, he did, and he is. So I need to tip my hat to Eric Hartzell. Ultimately, each goalie must decide for himself (or herself) whether to buckle down, and take advantage of whatever physical gifts he has and the coaching he gets. Hartzell did just that. And he, and his team, won because of it.

Next month, my suggestions for the best off-ice sports to help you get in shape for the start of next season.

FINIS

Goalies, parents, coaches and the concept of "team"

A loser's salute.

Hi gang,

Well, I managed to let the month of February slip by without a single post. My bad. That's what happens when both cars need major repairs, and a faulty pressure release valve on the hot-water heater floods the basement. Fun, fun, fun. But, since there's no crying in hockey (or home and car ownership, for that matter), it's time to move on.

The story featured in this column is now a year old, but I just had a parent remind me that he watches the accompanying video often, if only to remind himself to maintain perspective when it comes to youth and high school hockey, and his own two children (both goaltenders). This particular column, which originally ran in the New England Hockey Journal, also gave me a chance to call on several outstanding goalie coaches, including Brian Daccord, Joe Bertagna, and Darren Hersh, to get their thoughts on what I felt was an act of supreme selfishness. Let me know what you think ...

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Goalies, parents, coaches and the concept of "team"

So what are we to make of Austin Krause?

Don't know the name? Good for you. I'm hesitant to even dignify Krause's name with any additional mention, but it's next to impossible to tell this story without identifying the culprit. Just Google "Austin Krause," along with "goalie" and Farmington," and you'll find tales of how young Mr. Krause, a senior at Farmington High School in Minnesota, managed to disgrace himself while becoming something of an Internet sensation.

Here's the short version of Krause's tale. A disgruntled senior who started nine of Farmington's 23 games, Krause was upset about being demoted to backup to – gasp! – a sophomore. A Tweet from Austin obviously proves he knows better than his coaches: "They played this sophomore goalie for the starter, he was terrible, I would try and talk to the coaches about this and tell them I want playing time but they never really listen to me or gave me a chance to show them that I'm a better goalie."

Krause's numbers were decent (492 minutes, 5-4-1, 2.80 GAA, .877 save percentage), but they weren't as good as the sophomore starting ahead of him (548 minutes, 2.42 GAA, .901 save percentage). But instead of working his tail off, and proving he deserved to start, Krause apparently sat and stewed, and carefully plotted revenge.

On Senior Night, with the sophomore goalie out with an injury, Krause got the start against Chaska High. With three minutes left, and Farmington nursing a 2-1 lead, Krause calmly fielded a dump in, intentionally swept the puck into his own net, removed his blocker and flashed his middle finger toward his coaching staff, then ostensibly saluted his own team, and skated off the ice (with the help of friends, who obviously were waiting to open the door). Chaska, went on to win the game, 3-2.

Crazy, right? Not surprisingly, Krause was called into the principal's office and handed a 10-day suspension. Me? I would have forced him to come to school wearing a Chaska sweater and dunce cap, but that would probably violate the poor kid's civil liberties. And if the school system paid for even a dime of the kid's equipment, I'd withhold his diploma until every cent was repaid.

Even more shocking is the number of people who have come to Krause's defense, seeing something oddly noble in his actions. Take Fox 9 producer Doug Erlien, who wrote: "For those of us who had a problem with their high school coach at some point, what Krause did took courage. In no way am I trying to make him a hero here, but Krause took the 'stand in line and be a good soldier,' turned it around and shoved it right back in the face of the entire hockey world, including his team. Good team guy? Not a chance, but a part of me on the inside is standing and applauding and saying ‘'good for you kid, good for you.'"

It gets better. Erlien replied to comments that it was likely, in this day and age, that a prospective employers might search Krause's name, see the story, and immediately round-file his application. "If I were starting a company I'd want more guys like Krause working for me and I'd hire him in a minute. We need more passionate people who aren't afraid to put themselves out there and stand up for what they believe in popular or not."

Good luck with that, Doug. I can just see the first time Krause disagrees with his boss, loses his cool (because, of course, he's always right), and then makes a public display to embarrass not only himself and his company, but all of his company's clients. Yeah, just the guy I'd want on my staff.

There is something very, very rotten at the core of this story. And it starts and ends with Krause. He's a senior in high school, which means he's either 17 or 18. My girls, both teenagers, have known the difference between right and wrong since they were five, so I'm not going to let an 18-year-old off the hook. On the other hand, he's probably been coddled and told how great he is for a long, long time, and that definitely creates a sense of entitlement. I don't pretend to know all the particulars of Krause's home life, but the fact that his father has been banned from youth hockey games for a year speaks volumes.

"I know a coach who likes to say, 'Kids usually don't grow up to be like the neighbor's parents,'" said Joe Bertagna, former Boston Bruins and USA Olympic goaltending coach who runs Bertagna Goaltending. "What this kid did is wrong in so many ways, and I have to believe he has parents at home who have made him feel like a victim all year."

Exactly, said Brian Robinson, a managing director with Stop It Goaltending. "The kid started nine games out of 23 total, and he says the coach never gave him his chance? I can't stand what is happening to this new era of children who are so babied and pampered and given every single thing they want without ever being told no or being properly disciplined when they are in the wrong. I bet this kids parents gave him a pat on the back when he got out of that rink."

We, as goalie coaches, see this type of parental interference all the time. Sometimes they're right. Coaches do mess up, or play favorites. But how you deal with that hardship defines who you are.

"I think we can all agree we understand the kid's frustration as most of us have been involved in a similar situation in one form or another," said Sean Moloney, author of "Modern Goaltending, Modern Game." "His (desire) in this situation is clear, and understandable. This leaves us with the action. Which no matter how many ways I look at it is deplorable, petty, childish, selfish, and unforgivable."

In reality, some kids are never taught to deal with competition. "One of our issues is that kids play their birth year," said Brian Daccord, owner of Stop It Goaltending and a former Bruins goalie coach. "The whole team moves up each year. Therefore they do not have to compete for their spot like they did when levels consisted of two birth years. They get to high school they go from one birth year to four, with no experience or appreciation for competing to make a team. The old system was the way to go."

At the risk of painting with too broad a brush, it is a problem that's becoming all-too pervasive. "The pure selfishness in youth team sports today should not surprise us when we see this event take place," said Darren Hersh of The Goalie Academy. "I hear parents of players telling kids not to pass to teammates, but to keep the puck and to do it themselves. I've seen goalie partners cheer when their goalie teammate gets scored on."

"The selfishness that it takes, which is also encouraged and fueled by parents, seems to be at an all time high," said Hersh. "Not saying that deep down we all have felt jealousy, anger, and envy for our goalie competitors from time to time, but I've seen these emotions perfectly controlled and never revealed. To express those emotions by putting the puck in your own team's net only to make your own extremely selfish feelings known to the entire hockey world is beyond reprehensible.

"What is really disheartening, as a coach of youth hockey, is that the very important lessons that team sports like hockey can teach kids are the very lessons and values that a select group of parents do not know, understand, live, nor teach. Coaches today have to teach these values to both the kids AND to the parents, which is an exhausting undertaking to say the least."

Perhaps the greatest irony is that Krause wore No. 1. It's abundantly clear that Krause only care about one person, himself. His actions proved he was less than a back-up – he's a quitter.

FINIS

Overcoming fear is a big part of a goaltender's job

The L.A. Kings Rogie Vachon, putting on a brave face.

Hi gang,

Happy 2014! For me, the New Year was always a good time to re-evaluate my game, to figure out what was working, and more importantly, what needed work. A big part of that review was an honest assessment of whether I was being brave enough. Courage comes more easily to some than others. And it comes in many shapes and sizes. The same can be said for "fear." There is the fear of getting hurt, the fear of playing poorly, the fear of embarrassment. All are very real emotions, and a goalie needs to deal with each one of them. Coming to grips with your fears, and overcoming them, is an essential part of goaltending. It takes work, and good equipment. Here are a few thoughts on the topic, originally written for my column with the New England Hockey Journal.

Overcoming fear is a big part of a goaltender's job

"Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear, not absence of fear." -Mark Twain

Of course, the temptation was to begin this column with FDR's famous inauguration quote, "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself." Hockey goaltenders know better. Not only do we have to worry about getting hit with a vulcanized piece of rubber that is only slightly softer than a rock, but we need to deal with all the emotional baggage that comes with being "the last line of defense."

Sure, hockey is "just a game," but try telling that to a kid who pours his (or her) heart and soul into the position, and lives and dies a little bit with every goal that gets scored. You don't have to take my word for it; just ask my colleague, April "The Hockey Mom" Bowling. She has a son, Sam, who has been bitten by the goaltending bug, and the poor guy clearly sacrifices an ounce of flesh every time his team loses.

That's been the burden of goaltenders for as long as hockey players have been able to convince someone to stand between the pipes. It's an exquisite torture, though, and most of us who don the tools of ignorance gladly accept the responsibility. So, putting aside the psychological pitfalls that goaltending presents (that's a topic for another column), lets focus a bit on the potential physical trauma. Pain is a pretty good precursor to fear, and once you've been hit in a delicate or unprotected area with a puck, the memory of that sharp, biting sting is going to stick in your memory banks, no matter how mentally tough you are.

Still, better goaltenders excel because they, as Mark Twain said, can master their fears. Playing goal at a high level takes guts – there's just no way around it. You've got to be willing to put yourself in harm's way because, oftentimes, that's the difference between allowing a goal and making a save. Better goalies have always preferred the temporary pain of a bruise to the lingering disappointment of surrendering a goal.

All that said, I need to acknowledge the gear evolution, which has helped provide young netminders an extra measure of confidence, and even courage. Goaltending has changed a great deal since I strapped on the leather and felt pads in high school in the mid-1970s (no laughing, please). The position has always required hard work if you want to be a really good goaltender, and that fact is as true today as it was back in "my day." There's simply no substitute for busting your tail, on and off the ice.

But the reality is that the training is better, the coaching is better, the technique is better, and the gear is better. And the latter is probably most important of all. While the fancy leg pads and gloves and masks get the most credit, I'll wager that the gear that has made the biggest difference on how the position is played today is the body armor. Specifically, I'm talking primarily about the chest and arm protector, the pants, and to a lesser degree thigh guards and a neck danglers.

These essential, yet vastly under-rated pieces of gear allow goalies to play "big," or "wide," by keeping their arms to the side and soaking up shots like Muhammad Ali used to do with his famous rope-a-dope defense. We even teach goalies "smother" saves as part of our basic goalie curriculum. By rolling their shoulders forward, which pushes the chest protector away from the body, goalies can create an air pocket not unlike the air-bag in your car. When a shot hits this air pocket, it decelerates almost immediately, and the puck often drops into the goalie's lap. To the untrained eye, it looks like the puck simply sticks to the goalie, as if he was a giant sponge. But it takes practice, some courage, and a really good chest and arm protector and a solid pair of goalie pants to relax enough to "give" with the shot.

Again, looking back at my formative years, my chest and arm protectors were actually two pieces, made of quilted cotton, felt, and a few thin squares of foam padding. The pants weren't any different than the ones worn by the rest of the players (which, of course, meant there wasn't much to them). In reality, these pieces provided little more than token protection. I remember coming home at night, after practice, with my arms and torso covered with welts. The next morning, I took care to hide the blue and purple bruises from my mom, afraid she might forbid me from playing.

And that's how I played the game – in constant fear. I used my glove and blocker to protect my body, instead of keeping them at my side. I would move away from high shots, trying to snare them in my trapper or deflect them off my blocker, because that was the safest option. I stayed on my feet as long as possible because dropping too soon left me more susceptible to getting hit in places that weren't adequately covered. My style, really, was based not only on stopping the puck, but also preservation.

Now, we teach goalies to drive into the shot, or to absorb the shot. We want them playing big, which effectively shrinks the net behind them, leaving the shooters fewer options. The body armor allows them to do that. But, that said, it's just as critical that this gear is adequate, and fits properly. This, unfortunately, is where parents can sometimes cut corners.

I understand that not all parents are going to gleefully open the checkbook the first time that little Johnny or Jenny says they want to play goal. But I also see too many parents who "suit up" their goaltending hopefuls with inadequate and/or ill-fitting protective gear, and that's a bad recipe for the youngster.

Here's the quandary that prospective goalie parents face – if you don't invest in good gear, and make sure it fits correctly, the odds of your child getting injured increase exponentially. That has a Domino Effect – if Johnny has a normal pain threshold (without any underlying masochistic tendencies), and he takes a shot to an unprotected area, his enthusiasm for the position is going to disappear fairly quickly. Worse, from a team perspective, a fearful goalie is rarely a capable or reliable goalie. Fear paralyzes. Tight, tense muscles are slow muscles, and slow goalies spend a lot of time pulling pucks out of the net.

The good news is that the converse is also true. When young goalies feel safe, they can concentrate on stopping the puck, instead of worrying about getting hurt. They're more relaxed, and loose muscles a quick muscles. Quick goaltenders tend to be more successful, and that breeds confidence.

That's why I also mentioned thigh guards and neck danglers. These pieces (the thigh guard covers the area just above the knee that is often exposed when a goaltender drops into the butterfly), combined with a good chest and arm protector and goalie pants, plus a good helmet/mask, ensure that your child will be protected. Young goalies still need to ratchet up their courage, and learn to trust the gear. I've never told a goaltender that he (or she) won't get hurt. But by and large, the risk of getting seriously injured have been reduced dramatically. And that's a good thing.

FINIS

Teamwork is crucial for every player, goalies included

All for one, and one for all.

During the summer months, I spend so much time at goalie camps that it's easy to forget that these netminders are only one part of a multi-faceted team. An important part, but a part just the same. Which is why it's so crucial that goalies embrace the concept of teamwork, and their role as a key cog in that organization. It's never about "me" ... It's about "us." Here are some thoughts on the topic, originally printed in the New England Hockey Journal and the New York Hockey Journal. Let me know what you think ...

Why coaches must preach "team" for everyone, including goaltenders

This past summer, my eldest daughter (not a hockey player) and I had an animated discussion about team sports. Her swim team was having an end-of-the-season pizza party, and she wanted to invite a friend who wasn't on the team.

"No way," I told her, just that bluntly.

"Why, Dad?" she replied (repeatedly). "It's no big deal."

"I disagree, honey. It is a big deal," I countered. "This is an event for you and your teammates. It's not about hanging out with your other friends. This is about all the kids on the swim team. Your team."

I've been involved with team sports for so long that I consider these basic tenets to be absolute truths. But things are different today. I've seen family gatherings where parents allow their kids to bring a friend, instead of encouraging them to play with their cousins or – God forbid – interact with the adults. To me, that's just bizarre.

To make a hockey comparison, a team is a collection of the individuals in the locker room. Really good teams nourish that environment, building a true "team" where players care for and rely on each other. Critical to that development is including the goaltenders.

All too often, hockey goaltenders are separated, both consciously and subconsciously, from their team. That's never a good thing. The reality is that the position is already set apart by it's very nature. We stand in one place, for the entire game, while the action swirls from end-to-end, and the players change up as often as my wife changes her mind about what color to paint the house. When a goal gets scored, everyone else heads to the bench, but the goalie is left alone to dig the puck out of the net. That's no fun (speaking from experience).

Remember, youngsters aren't drawn to the position because they're loners. More often than not, they're attracted by the unique responsibilities that come with playing goal. For me, I always loved the idea of being a difference maker, and being the one player that, if I was really on my game, could prevent an entire team from winning (which didn't happen as often as I would have liked, but that's another story). The point is, despite loving the actual position, I was disappointed by just how rare it was to feel like the goalies were actually being incorporated into the team.

Frustratingly, you see this in many, many aspects of the sport, both in practice and in games. For example, I've lost count of the number of times I've seen a coach pull the team together during a drill, but leave the goalie standing in the net 30, 40 feet away. That doesn't make any sense to me, but I suspect that the coach isn't even thinking of it in terms of an insult. It's just an error of omission, but one that gets compounded each time it's repeated. Eventually, the goalie loses interest.

Now, this is important, because it's not a part of the game we, as goalie coaches, can teach effectively during our goalie clinics or mini-ice sessions. Those are primarily reserved for the art of stopping the puck (though we do discuss team-oriented topics like reading the play, or being a good passer). Team practices are the best environment to bring goaltenders on board with everyone else. Still, even in the team practice setting, I've been told by coaches "Just work with the goalies," as if it's such a specialty that the rest of the team couldn't possibly benefit from what I'm teaching (here's a hint … goalie coaches know a few things about how to put the puck in the net!).

So, while I'm telling the young netminder to take charge, instructing teammates about where to be and who to cover, the same young netminder is left out of the discussion by his or her coaches. The result is often a goaltender who isn't on the same page as his or her teammates. In a sport as fast and mercurial as hockey, that can only lead to trouble.

"Goalies are the only players who can see the whole ice surface," says Fred Quistgard of Quistgard Goaltending in Maine, and the former head coach of Union College and Bowdoin College. "They should be totally familiar with the defensive, neutral, and offensive zone systems. They can recognize problems before they happen and can anticipate the saves that will be required based on where the puck carrier is attacking, where the opponents without the puck are moving, and how the defense is lining up against the rush."

In other words, Quistgard is asking coaches to "explain to the goalies what their responsibilities are." And those responsibilities go far beyond the classic, short-sighted edict of "just stop the puck."

Ultimately, coaches should want a goaltender who thinks like them, or at the very least can bring their game plan to the ice. As Quistgard says, we see the entire ice, much like a point guard in basketball, a catcher in baseball, or a quarterback in football. I tell my youngsters that the position brings with it natural leadership responsibilities. And leaders can't be passive.

For the majority of the game, goalies are in the calm eye of the hurricane. Positional players are actually in the hurricane, chasing the puck or the play over the entire 200-by-85 expanse of ice. Goalies, though, know the play is coming to them. That makes us invaluable teammates. It's never too early to start learning what the coach expects of not only you, but all the players, at every position. At the younger levels, keep it really simple. If there's a loose puck, tie it up and get a whistle. If your defenseman is chasing a puck behind the net let him know if he has time to make a play (either skating the puck or making a break out pass), or if he has a forechecker in hot pursuit.

As goalies climb the ladder of youth hockey through high school and even college, their responsibilities grow, from verbal commands to puck-handling duties, and I plan to detail those in later columns. In short, though, they are more involved. The point today is that goalies should never think of themselves as a castaway on an island. They are part of a team, and being a good teammate means more than simply stopping the puck.

Coaches, you need to realize that too. I was lucky in high school. After practices, my coach would drive me to my part-time job at Osco Drug, and we'd talk about various aspects about the game, and the team. It gave me a chance to prove that I knew what was going on. And to his credit, my coach listened. Neither of us had all the answers (we were, in fact, not a very good team), but at least the two of us were on the same page. And that can only be a good things for a hockey team.

FINIS

Lessons from The Heights, and the NCAA championships

Hi gang,

This post gave me a chance to reflect on a great college hockey season, which I covered for ESPNBoston.com, and the remarkable run that the Boston College Eagles put together this spring. At the heart of BC's stunning 19-game winning streak, which culminated with yet another national championship for the Eagles, was junior netminder Parker Milner. This young man underwent a mid-season transformation unlike any I've ever seen. Which made him a worthy topic for The Goalie Guru column I wrote for the May issue of the New England Hockey Journal. 

Lessons from The Heights, and the NCAAs

You've heard it here before, but it bears repeating: goaltenders can't be afraid to admit when they mess up. The best thing a goalie can do after letting up a soft goal is to tell teammates, "Hey, gang, that one was my bad." And since coaches should hold themselves to the same standards, I need to admit when I'm wrong. And I was wrong about Parker Milner.

See, in my "other" life, I'm fortunate enough to cover college hockey for ESPNBoston.com. That gig gives me a chance to watch some of the nation's best college goalkeepers, guys like Boston University's Kieran Millan, Merrimack All-American Joe Cannata, Lowell's Doug Carr, Maine's Dan Sullivan, and New Hampshire's Casey DeSmith (even got a peek at Union All-American Troy Grosenick).

I also got to see Milner, the Boston College junior from Pittsburgh, PA, play early and often for the Eagles. I worked with Milner, briefly, while he was part of BC's tandem with stalwart John Muse. And though my time with Parker was limited, I could see he was an athlete, capable of playing at the D-1 level. But ability and performance, as most coaches know, can be two very different things.

Following Muse's graduation, Milner was the consensus starter this pre-season (though the Eagles also recruited two highly touted freshmen). His early returns, frankly, were underwhelming. Against Denver on Oct. 14, Milner looked shaky, nervous. He had happy feet, and seemed jittery. Denver coach George Gwozdecky acknowledged after the 4-2 Pioneer win that he wanted to test Milner: "That was one of the things we emphasized tonight; get the puck on the net, and get after the rebound."

Sometimes, the Pioneers didn't need a rebound. Denver took a 2-1 lead when Beau Bennett snapped a quick, bad-angle shot that beat Milner high glove side and snuck under the crossbar. It was not a goal that inspired confidence.

By the semester break, Milner was mired in a three-goalie rotation, the very antithesis of coach Jerry York's preferred approach. And the Eagles were struggling through a 2-4-1 slump. The low point for Milner came in a 3-2 loss to Notre Dame, when he surrendered a soft, last-second overtime goal to the Irish, and two losses to archrival Boston University (giving up nine Terrier goals on only 34 shots).

Milner saw the ice just once in the next nine games, and not at all during a two-game sweep at the hands of Maine in late January. That's when Milner's story takes a dramatic turn, for the better.

"We were really in a hard situation … through the middle of the season with stopping pucks," said York. "We sensed at the time we had a lot of 'B' goaltenders. It's hard to win championships without an 'A' goaltender. It just doesn't happen. We challenged our goaltenders, and Parker stepped up."

Somewhere, deep inside Milner's psyche, the young netminder owned up to his shortcomings. He didn't pout; he took responsibility. And he made up his mind that he wasn't going to be satisfied with simply being a D-1 goalie, riding a three-goalie carousel on a top-flight team. Milner decided he would be the man.

"He's really come on strong lately," said Cross of Milner after BC won the Beanpot, 3-2, in overtime over BU. "We've got competition at every position on our team, and goaltender is no different. Those guys push each other every day, and I think it's made Parker better, and his attitude has remained very positive. I think he took it upon himself personally to take over that spot."

Essentially, Milner proved how special an athlete can be when he fuses talent with hard work. He accepted York's challenge, and rededicated himself to getting better. He started skating extra morning sessions, working with BC goalie coach Jim Logue and assistant coach Greg Brown.

"We've all been impressed. He's really elevated his game," said Brown. "He looks so much more confident now than he did earlier in the year."

That was pure understatement. Through his own grit, Milner orchestrated one of the most stunning midseason improvements I can recall.

"He's our backbone," said BC's All-American defenseman Brian Dumoulin after the Eagles knocked UMass out of the Hockey East playoffs. “That gives us tons of confidence, knowing that if we make a mistake, it's not over. He's going to make a big save like he has in these last couple games, and he has the last couple months

"That's just huge going on these runs in the playoffs, sometimes it's going to be a goaltending battle, sometimes it's just going to be a scoring battle. And knowing we have a good goaltender behind us is awesome.

Still, I was unconvinced. In press-row conversations during the Hockey East semifinals, I told colleagues that if BC had an Achille's Heel, it could very well be Milner. My thinking was this: Boston College would only go as far as Parker Milner could carry them.

But Milner finished what he started in late January. He was between the pipes for every one of BC's 19 straight wins, culminating in a 4-1 victory over Ferris State in the NCAA championship game. Ironically, he was the only goaltender of the Frozen Four starters who wasn't an All-American. And Milner left Tampa not only with another national championship on his resume (though he didn't play in 2010), but was also named the tournament's Most Outstanding Player.

In the NCAAs, Milner gave up two goals in four games, whitewashing both Air Force and Minnesota-Duluth in the Northeast Regionals. During BC's 19-game win streak, he posted numbers (1.09 goals against average, .960 save percentage) that would make any All-American jealous.

"Maybe I was trying to do too much," Milner said of his early season struggles. "There's been some incredible goalies here, and maybe I was trying to live up to that too much. But I'm not John Muse. I'm not Cory Schneider. I'm Parker Milner. And I'm going to try to do the best I can to be a part of this story that we're writing for the 2012 team."

It was a tale with a storybook ending, thanks in large part to Milner's efforts. So, my apologies to Parker. And congrats. You earned every one of the accolades that came your way this season. See you next year.

FINIS