Guidelines for age-based goals

Hi gang,

If there's a silly season in youth hockey, it's spring, when every youth hockey organization under the sun -- non-profit and for-profit -- holds tryouts. I'm often asked to help do evaluations during these sessions, to help avoid any suspicion of favoritism among members. And that makes sense.

But what I often think about while sitting in the bleachers, trying to keep warm and jotting down notes, is "What's most important to this organization?" Is it winning? Is it player development? Is it providing a fun environment for everyone? It's obviously a complex question, with many potential answers. To find out what's most important to a particular program, start by figuring out what the organization's goals are. Then you can apply those to the goaltenders in the program. Here are some guidelines that I'd recommend.

Thanks for reading. As always, let me know what you think.
Best, -Brion

##

GUIDELINES FOR AGE-BASED GOALS

One of the most difficult aspects of coaching is applying the right approach to each goaltender, at varying age levels. The reality is that not all goalies are created equal. As a result, goalie coaches have to adjust their methods based on a number of factors, including the age of the goalie, their experience, their commitment level, and their talent level.

Good coaches know there's no "one size fits all" approach to coaching. There are so many physical and mental challenges to the position that you need to assess each child (or young man, young woman, or adult) individually.

Of course, that's easier said than done. Even as an experienced coach, I sometimes need to reassess, remind myself to keep the individual in mind, and reboot.

TrueSport (truesport.org) recently ran an excellent article on just this topic, featuring sports psychologist Roberta Kraus. A former competitive collegiate tennis and basketball player who works with athletes ranging from novices to Olympians, Kraus has an impressive resume. She holds a pair of master’s degrees, one in higher education from the University of Northern Colorado and another in sports psychology from the University of Arizona. Her doctorate from the University of Denver is in communications, specializing in its application to individual and team effectiveness.

The following are the highlights from that article, tailored to young goaltenders.

Getting started

Foremost, parents and coaches need to be on the same page in terms of the overall objectives. According to Kraus, parents and coaches typically agree on the "right" answer in terms of the reasons sports are beneficial for kids: building character, reinforcing a work ethic, developing integrity, teamwork, etc. But knowing the right answer doesn't always stop parents and/or coaches from applying too much pressure on kids to win, be a star player, or live up to the investment that parents have spent on private training and travel teams. Essentially, we all need to remind ourselves that the fundamental goal is (or should be) to keep young athletes engaged in sport. Staying engaged reinforces the values parents and coaches say they want. Sports help foster and fortify exercise and nutrition habits that lead to improved health throughout adulthood. The question Kraus asks is, how can we help kids set and achieve goals in a way that keeps them engaged?

Focus on "competitive maturity," not actual age

This is such a critical element for coaches in the youth ranks. Kraus encourages parents and coaches to consider an athlete's competitive/training maturity over chronological age. For example, your team might have two 12-year-old goaltenders. One has been playing competitive hockey for four years, the other just picked up the game (or position) this season. They might be the same chronological age, but could be vastly different in terms of competitive maturity, based on playing experience. From a goals perspective, the athlete with more experience is more likely to thrive despite greater challenges compared to the more novice athlete. Coaches need to adjust accordingly.

Goal setting versus goal getting

The traits of control, self-determination, and accountability can change dramatically as an athlete progresses from elementary school through high school. For goals to be effective, a young goaltender needs to have adequate control over the factors necessary to achieve them. This is why Kraus encourages players, parents, and coaches to focus on "goal getting" instead of "goal setting." This is more than semantics. Goal getting is based on what a young athlete can achieve through effort. Goal setting is based on win/loss types of outcomes, and can depend heavily on teammates. These are real and measurable goals that children can achieve (or fail to achieve, as the case may be). But the achievement or failure is based on the only thing they can really control: their effort. Here are some examples:

Goal setting
# Win more than half our games this season
# Win the league championship
# Make the varsity squad

Goal getting

# Develop more confidence in handling dump-ins and making passes (skill acquisition)
# Faster recovery from the butterfly, or stronger lateral push (power development)
# Encourage teammates at every practice and game (leadership)

Employ words deliberately

Likewise, the words that parents and coaches use can have a dramatic impact on a young athlete. Kraus believes adults tend to be specific with criticism and vague with praise. Think about the post-game car ride home. Do you point out specific instances where your young goaltender didn't cover a loose puck quick enough, or a specific time when he (or she) was off his angles? Do you follow that up with nebulous praise for "battling" or "working hard"? Kraus said very specific criticism paints mental pictures of what went wrong, but vague praise doesn't help players to similarly visualize success. It's important for coaches and parents to be as specific with praise as with criticism. Instead of "you were aggressive," recall a specific example: "It was great to see you challenge the shooter during that breakaway late in the first period, and take away the net." You still have every right to point out areas that need improving. But consider how quickly and specifically we can identify and describe failures, and how critical it is to identify and accurately describe achievements.

Intrinsic versus extrinsic motivation

According to Kraus, parents and coaches need to understand the source of an athlete's motivation when it comes to establishing appropriate goals. Athletes motivated by internal, personal achievement have high "intrinsic" motivation (the fire within). Athletes motivated by external validation, like social status or prizes, have high "extrinsic" motivation. Both are valuable, but intrinsic motivation is crucial for long-term participation and achievement. If an athlete exhibits high intrinsic motivation early on by prioritizing personal achievement and what success feels like – rather than what it looks like – then coaches and parents can help the athlete progress by encouraging the pursuit of extrinsic goals (winning). Conversely, if an athlete exhibits high extrinsic motivation early on by prioritizing winning and elevated status that results from success, then coaches and parents should help nurture that player's intrinsic motivation before reinforcing his (or her) extrinsic motivation.

Consequences and rewards

Young athletes are more likely to tougher on themselves for failures (both perceived and real) compared to the criticisms they might get from parents and coaches, said Kraus. On the other end of the spectrum, neither young athletes nor their parents and coaches tend to praise effort or achievement to the same extent. In essence, young athletes, parents, and coaches are all biased toward criticism and negative consequences. To counter that, coaches and parents should encourage young athletes to establish concrete consequences and rewards related to effort, and not outcomes.

Goaltenders should ask themselves this question: How do I help my team by giving my best effort? This is the basis for the athlete's reward. If giving your best effort means you are constantly engaged, battling through screens, encouraging your teammates, that behavior should get rewarded (like taking them out to their favorite restaurant).

Then ask this question: How do I hurt my team when I don't give my best effort? This is the basis for the athlete's consequence. Giving up early rather than competing to the final whistle, or ripping a teammate for a penalty or defensive breakdown, are examples of you not giving your best effort. That's what you pay a consequence for (like losing Xbox or PlayStation for a couple of days).

The athlete, peers, and teammates should be the initial judges of whether an athlete earned a reward or should suffer a consequence (ensuring age-appropriate decisions). Team captains should provide input next, with coaches and parents as the last people to weigh in. That builds accountability, which is a hallmark of all great goaltenders.

FINIS

What coaches and parents can learn from a caring teacher

Good teachers, like good coaches, lead by example.

Hi everyone,

I can't believe we're almost halfway through July.  Once our summer camps hit full stride, there doesn't seem to be enough hours in the day to get everything done.

So I'll post this quickly, with little by way of an introduction. Suffice to say, I owe a great deal of gratitude to Martha Gillespie, my daughter Maddi's third grade teacher. Here's why:

##

What coaches and parents can learn from a caring teacher

Martha Gillespie is a coaching hero of mine. You probably don't know her. Don't feel bad. Martha Gillespie is not a hockey coach. She isn't famous. She was an elementary school teacher. But the traits she embodied are universal trademarks of good coaching (as well as good teaching, and good parenting).

Mrs. Gillespie espoused four beliefs that every coach, and every parent, can benefit from. First, she cared deeply about each student who walked into her classroom, and would go to bat for them even in the face of bureaucratic inertia. But she still held her students to a high standard, regardless of the challenges a diverse room of 3rd graders presents. That's point No. 2.

Which leads to Nos. 3 and 4. When Martha saw an issue, she was able to communicate with a child's parents clearly and concisely, sharing her concerns. And finally, she upheld the first three points because she never once mailed it in.

Based on her actions, Martha Gillespie never once considered teaching as a job, or obligation. It was a calling. In a great many ways (she abhorred the term "a lot"), that's what separates great coaches – coaches who truly make a difference – from those who are simply meeting a perceived responsibility.

How do I know Martha Gillespie? She was the third grade teacher of my eldest child, Mary. My daughter had struggled through second grade. She loved school, so it wasn't a case of a child who wanted to be elsewhere. But she did have trouble applying herself.

Her second grade teacher simply shrugged off Mary's inconsistent effort, and suggested she was just lazy. "Messy" and "disorganized" were two other adjectives. It wasn't said in a malicious way, but more just a matter-of-fact statement.

Since Mary was our first, my wife and I didn't really know any better when it came to expectations at school. We challenged her to buckle down, while realizing she was only 8. She could frustrate us, but we figured she was just going through the normal progression.

That changed the next year, with Martha Gillespie. A former elementary school librarian, Mrs. Gillespie noticed early on that Mary wasn't keeping pace.

"She recognized that Mary was an inattentive daydreamer, which is a hallmark of ADHD in girls," said my wife, Lauri, an occupational therapist. "It's very different from what most people characterize as ADHD."

When most people hear ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder), or ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder), they think of children who are fidgety, hyperactive, impulsive, and maybe even disruptive. Mary wasn't any of these. But she was slow to transition in the classroom.

Mary was typically the last one to get her materials out for a new project, the last to put things away when the class moved on to another topic, and the last out the door for recess. Not a big deal, right? But Martha Gillespie made a note of it. In a classroom of 22 kids, she recognized that this child was struggling to keep up.

"Martha always had such a clear voice," said Lauri. "What made her special was that she was able to pay so much attention to one child in her class, and advocate for her. She took action. Not many teachers would do that.

"She saw Mary's action within the classroom setting, and recognized that it could be a problem for her long-term, if not addressed early."

Which brings me back to the four major principles that Mrs. Gillespie brought to her profession that any coach can benefit from.

Caring. Like any good coach or parent, Mrs. Gillespie made the effort to look below the surface. She didn't take my daughter at face value, but took the time to see if there was something else going on. She encouraged us to have Mary tested, both by the school, and more importantly, by outside evaluators.

In that way, Martha Gillespie displayed a rare and special attention to detail. That’s what coaches need to do. Kids aren't created equal. You need to get to know each one of them, and understand what makes them tick. That's a tall order. But it's also what makes coaches special.

Accountability. For Martha Gillespie, "caring" was a two-way street. Her students had to care as well. She never made any excuses for Mary, and I assume that she held our child to the same standard as every other youngster in her class. That was important to Lauri and me. Moreover, this is where Mrs. Gillespie was able to establish a level of expectation that applied to every child.

This is not semantics. Children will have different strengths and weaknesses, in the classroom and in the playing arena. So it's OK for teachers, and coaches, to adjust their expectations based on those individual qualities. But the one constant is effort. Martha Gillespie insisted that Mary try. And she had our full support.

Communication. Here's another "two-way" street. Identifying an issue is only the start. If you're a coach, you need to be able to talk to the parents of a child if there's an issue interfering with the team's chemistry. Conversely, parents have a two-fold responsibility.

First, if your child does have a disability, you coach deserves to know. Don't assume it won't be an issue (I'm speaking from experience here). Second, if you've taken that step, and you feel it's falling on deaf ears, you need to advocate for your child. That's not always easy, but it's necessary.

Commitment. Teaching, like coaching, ought to be a calling first, and a profession second. Martha Gillespie did what she felt was the right thing to do, regardless of what the consequences might be. How many of us can say that?

Like Mary's second-grade teacher, Mrs. Gillespie could have let our daughter coast. Her grades were satisfactory, if unexceptional, and she would have graduated. That wasn't acceptable to Martha. Instead, she went to bat for a child who she felt had potential, but wouldn't fulfill that promise without extra help.

Though I have no hard evidence, I'm convinced that having Mrs. Gillespie serve as such a strong advocate for Mary made it easier for Lauri and I to get our child the assistance she needed. We had her tested at Children's Hospital, and they confirmed Mrs. Gillespie's suspicions.

Our local school district was very supportive, "but that was driven by how attentive Martha was," said Lauri. "These were subtle things. They weren't blatant."

This past June, Mary graduated from high school, with a 3.4 grade point average. To say I'm immensely proud of this young woman would be an understatement. This child, together with my wife, worked her tail off, and made herself into a better student. As you read this, she'll be a freshman at the University of New England, pursuing a degree in sports medicine, and playing for the Nor'easters volleyball team.

At her graduation, my wife and I invited Mary's high school volleyball coach, who was tremendous advocate for our daughter, and one former teacher. That teacher was Martha Gillespie. She brought a scrapbook that her students had made for her, nine years earlier. The fact that she kept that memento was another testament to what her students meant to her.

As she was preparing to leave, I pulled Mrs. Gillespie aside. I told her I couldn't let her go without saying "Thank you," and sharing the immense sense of gratitude that came from the bottom of my heart.

"Please, you're going to make me cry," she said.

But I was way ahead of her. My eyes welled up with tears as I told this woman what an important role she played in helping to pave the road that would allow my daughter to succeed, not only in school, but also in life. Whatever this child achieves going forward, she will owe a debt to her third grade teacher.

What a wonderful legacy for any teacher. Or coach.

FINIS

Summer fun that prepares you for the first puck drop

Mountain biking is a great summer option for goalies.

Hi gang,

Hard to believe that June has arrived, and that the start of summer camps is just around the corner. Although I love working summer camps -- Really, is there any better place to be on a hot, sticky day than an ice rink? -- I always approach the season with just a little apprehension. That's because I think kids need a summer vacation from hockey almost as much as they do from schoolwork.

As a result, my approach to summer camps and clinics is to keep them light and a little less serious. It's a mental break as much as anything. We'll work hard, but in short bursts, and without the pressures of winning and losing. And the rest of the time, I want my younger goalies branching out, pursuing other activities, and playing different sports. Here are a few thoughts on the topic, originally written for the New England Hockey Journal and the New York Hockey Journal. Let me know what you think ... 

##

Summer fun that prepares you for the first puck drop

Old-timers like myself vividly remember the days when goalies were mercilessly stereotyped. Not only were we thought to be a few cents short of a dollar, but we were the big, slow (and often overweight) kids who couldn't keep up with the game, so we got stuck between the pipes. And, like most stereotypes, this one is a combination of fact and fiction.

Much like today, there were kids in my day (growing up in the 1960s and '70s) who absolutely loved playing goal, who were more than willing to take on the challenge of stopping an entire team from scoring. Those of us enamored with the position were usually in pretty decent shape, because we were driven not just to be goalkeepers, but good goalkeepers.

Likewise, there were also plenty of kids who found a sort of refuge in the nets, dumpy kids who just wanted to be part of the action despite not being particularly gifted. And they could could away with it, for two reasons. One, you didn't need to be a great athlete, or in great shape; you just needed a relatively high pain threshold. Two, the rest of the kids were happy to have anyone with a pulse put on the pads.

There will always be kids who gravitate to goal, but the ones who do so because they think it requires less effort, and less fitness, are in for a rude awakening. Those days – like my cherished youth – are long, long gone. From the way the game is played (think 100-yard dash, instead of a Sunday jog) to the way we teach the position, goalies need to be fit. Notice I didn't say "great athletes." Of course, that helps. But a youngster with the desire and requisite physical fitness can accomplish great things between the pipes.

On the other hand, come June, kids need a break. Playing hockey – especially goalie – 12 months a year concerns me a little. I think of Jack Nicholson's Jack Torrance character in "The Shining," with his obsessive "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy" mantra. Talk about scary. I believe it's really important to have an off-season, to recharge our batteries, to work different muscle groups and learn different skills. To have fun.

So, with school out for summer and the start of a new hockey season at least three months away, here are a few of my favorite off-ice activities to ensure that you'll get the break you need, but ready to go when the puck drops in the fall. One important point regarding team sports, such as lacrosse and soccer – don't play goal. Again, give your mind, and your nerves, a vacation. It's summer, after all.

Mountain biking

For my money, the best off-season exercise comes with two knobby tires underneath you. Mountain biking is a full-body workout, improving stamina, explosive power, reflexes, balance, and proprioception (body awareness). Plus, it's a hoot to play in the dirt. Just remember, I'm not suggesting a casual little pedal along a rail trail. If you want to get the greatest benefit, hit the singletrack. The tighter and more technical the terrain, the better. Toss in some vertical, which will really build your quad strength and lung capacity, and your on-ice workouts will seem like a snap by comparison (Interesting side note: I was recently listening to an NHL Classic broadcast of the 1993 Stanley Cup playoffs, with color analyst John Davidson talking about how Kings goalie Kelly Hrudy got super fit by mountain biking in the hills outside of Los Angeles).

Tennis

Lateral quickness, instincts, reading the play, superior footwork, hand-eye coordination, mercurial bursts of action, endurance, a willingness to battle for every point? Sounds a lot like goaltending to me. Of all my suggested summer pursuits, tennis is probably the closest corollary to playing goal. The best part is you only need one other person (and a court) to really work up a good sweat. Racquetball and squash are terrific options as well, but since this is summer, and I'm an outdoor fanatic, the nod goes to tennis.

Basketball

I love hoops. The game rewards skill, athleticism, hustle, peripheral vision, teamwork, and tough defense. In basketball, if you can't keep up, you get left behind. Period. That's how I want my goalies to think. They need to be in the same shape as their teammates, if not better. Plus, I love the critical thinking skills that basketball develops. You've got to process a lot of information in a hurry, and act on it.

Lacrosse

Hockey's off-ice cousin, lacrosse has all the attributes of hoops, with the added element of a lacrosse stick and (in some instances) a lot more physicality. But, as I said earlier, think twice about playing goalie. I have a neighbor who plays goal in both hockey and lacrosse, and I'm just a tad concerned he'll burn out. It hasn't happened yet (and I hope it doesn't), but I prefer hockey goalies get out and run in the off-season. Play forward. Score some goals!

Soccer

Those who mock soccer can't play it. In reality, the world's best soccer players make the game look ridiculously easy (much like the world's best hockey goaltenders). But the skill and footwork required to play the game at a high level is exceptional. Don't believe me? Just try it. I have a coaching colleague who constantly ridicules soccer, so I've invited him to come play with my group of Over-50 geezers. I've repeated the offer several times over the past few years, but he won't step up. Why? I suspect he knows just how difficult this sport is. So will you, once you try it. But stick with it. The rewards are tremendous.

Baseball

It saddens me to see our national pastime falling by the wayside in many parts of the country, in large part because of the rising popularity of lacrosse. But it's a great game, and if you're a goaltender, there are several positions that are ideal. I played third base, and I loved the hot corner. It teaches you patience, because you need to be alert on every single pitch, or you risk getting your head split open. If you want to be more involved, and really employ some of your goaltending talents, consider picking up the "tools of ignorance" and playing catcher. Is it any surprise the Vancouver goaltender Cory Schneider was also a top-notch backstop for his Philips Andover high school team?

Yoga

This isn't just for old guys (and gals). Athletes of every age can benefit from the flexibility, strength, discipline, and core balance that yoga offers. This is a low-impact exercise (unlike most of the others mentioned above), so it's joint friendly. And if you're friendly to your joints now, they'll repay the favor later on.

Last, if you get a chance to skate, skate out. Put on regular skates, and pick up a regular stick. You'll see the game from an entirely different perspective, which is refreshing. You'll use different parts of your body, and, more importantly, different parts of your brain. Similar to my belief that positional players should don goaltending gear at least a couple of times to appreciate what netminders deal with, I think goalies should rub elbows in the corners and find out just how difficult the game can be for positional players.

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

The most solitary position ...

Goalie camp? At 43? Why not? Goes to show you're never too old to take a puck upside the head. This account of one of the longest weeks of my life (albeit 10 years ago) appeared in the now-defunct Hockey Magazine. The photo above comes from my once-in-a-lifetime outing in January, 2010, playing at Fenway Park in Boston (which you can read about here).

NET GAIN
A 40-something goaltender tries to recapture his glory days

Lying prone on a cool sheet of ice, gasping for air, I lapse into another Walter Mitty fantasy. I'm no longer at the Mount Vernon Recreation and Ice Center outside Washington, D.C., desperately trying to keep from overheating beneath 35-plus pounds of soaking-wet goaltending gear. No, I'm between the pipes at Madison Square Garden, sporting the home white sweater of my beloved Rangers. The time? Winter, 1974.

Boston Bruins' winger Wayne Cashman is in the corner, mucking it up with Dale Roulfe, my Rock-of-Gibraltar defenseman. The puck squirts to the front of the net. Bruins' center Phil Esposito, on his way to a 68-goal season, pounces on it. He snaps off a lightning quick snap shot, low, stick-side. I instinctively flash my left leg pad. The puck glances off my toe buckle and flips harmlessly into the crowd. In the press box, Marv Albert screams into his microphone, "Kick save, O'Connor, and a beauty!" Color man Bill Chadwick, a Hall of Fame referee, chimes in: "This kid O'Connor came to play tonight ..." A goofy, satisfied grin creases my face.

"O'Connor! Hey, O'Connor! You gonna play sometime today?" barks Gerry "Elroy" Ellison, part-time goalie instructor and full-time drill sergeant. I surface reluctantly from my reverie, blinking the sweat from my eyes, realizing I'm still at the Puckstoppers Goaltending School. Slowly, I pull my bruised body off the ice, and resume my post for the next drill. I want to blame my murky state of mind on taking a puck up side the head, but I can't. I'm hurting because I'm 43. Whatever fitness I brought to camp with me evaporated as quickly as my fantasy. And my instructors aren't cutting me much slack.

At this precise moment, I'm struggling to recall exactly why I signed on for this five-day camp. There are vague recollections - I not only hoped to recapture some of my youth, but I wanted to make sure the guys in the late-night league back home in Boston weren't thinking I'd gotten soft. Several of my goaltending colleagues have been entertaining thoughts about hanging up their pads and skates, which only hardened my resolve to turn back the clock.

Truth is, I never had any formal education in the science of goaltending. My coaches in high school and the early days of college were former position players - forwards and defensemen - who had trouble relating to goalies. As other hockey players will attest, goalies are a singular breed, requiring special tutoring (or, as one derisive teammate once told me, “custom-made strait jackets”).My education was self-imposed - I ceaselessly studied Hall of Famer Jacques Plante's tome, "On Goaltending," until the book’s binder nearly disintegrated, and tried to apply its lessons to my game.

Recently, on the downhill side of my athletic career but still playing a few times each week, my mind shifted into a "now or never" mode. I could soldier on, a half-decent, middle-age goalie, or I could try to pick up my game a notch. What I needed was some top-notch instruction. I found it with Puckstoppers, an Ontario-based outfit that visits Alexandria, Virginia, each summer for a week. You might not think of the District of Columbia and its environs as a hotbed for hockey. Think again.

At the end of every morning session, dozens of pick-up players were lining up for noontime "stick practice." Back home in Massachusetts, many rinks shut down in the summer. Mount Vernon ice director Ernie Harris tells me "This place was originally designed to have two rinks. If I had that second sheet, I could book it solid."

On the first morning of camp, I sat in snarled Beltway traffic, listening with a jaded ear to Bruce Springsteen's "Glory Days" on the radio, wondering whether I still had the goods, and whether I'd be the only gray-haired keeper in the class. Heck, I'd have settle for anyone who could legally join me for a beer afterward.

Fortunately, I met two guys my age - Gerry Oakman, who works with the Justice Department, and Joe O'Connell, a family doctor from Arkansas. Both have Boston-area roots, and share an almost inexplicable love for hockey. We hit it off immediately. In hindsight, that's not surprising.

Goalies are naturally drawn to each other. We’re part of a team, yet stand apart – masked loners, solitary watchmen standing guard by our nets the entire game, an army of one. Other players don’t know what to make of us, but most are convinced that only someone with a few screws loose would actually volunteer to play our position. Buried under layers of unwieldy gear and confined to a limited skating area, goalies stick out like ocean liners surrounded by speedboats. Together, we make up an odd fraternity, a fellowship of proud masochists.

Our task is simple: Stop a vulcanized rubber puck, an inch thick and three inches in diameter, from entering a 4-by-6 foot goal. With composite sticks and curved blades, even recreational players can fire a puck upwards of 100 miles an hour. Adding insult to potential injury, the very nature of the position leads to more criticism than applause. We give up goals, but don't score them. We're often blamed for losses, but only occasionally praised for victories. We are, in short, the team’s lightning rod.

Oakman recalls a Plante quote - "How would you like to have a job, that when you made a mistake, a big red light went on and 18,000 people booed?"

"For me, that's a motivator, to join a very select group of men and women who step up to meet that challenge," says Oakman.

Challenge indeed. I always thrived on goaltending’s unique reality – by the position’s very nature, the goalie is the one player who can single-handedly stop an entire team from winning. After all, if the opponent doesn’t score, you can’t lose. And on those rare games when I’m really focused and feeling invincible, the puck looks the size of a balloon, and moves about as quick. In my mind’s eye, it seems I can see where the puck is going even before the shot is fired. Granted, those moments didn’t come often enough to sustain my dream of a pro career or Division I scholarship. But even now, when they happen, they’re magic.

Unfortunately, I quickly realize there’s nothing “magical” about goalie camp. I understand it’s purpose and promise, but I’m ill prepared for the workload. For the next five days, two hours each morning, two each afternoon, Ellison and his Puckstoppers colleagues run us through a gamut of drills and instruction designed to improve our game. Or kill us.

We work on stance, movement, angles, low shots, high shots, deflections, rebounds, breakaways. Shooting machines fire pucks at us relentlessly - one nicks a crease in my armor, just above my blocker, and my elbow stings for hours. During each session, usually following some tortuous skating or agility drill, Oakman, O'Connell and I exchange futile glances and muted words of encouragement. Sweat pours from old pores as we struggle to keep pace with youngsters a fraction of our age. Each day, we wonder aloud whether we can finish the week. Parents of younger campers look at us as though we've lost our marbles. Incredulous, I reply: "Hey, we're goalies!"

The inference, I trust, is crystal clear - goaltenders, whether young or aging, are by definition a bit off-center. We all survive - barely.

"I'm sure people were giggling behind my back," says O'Connell, who admits hoping to play well into his 60s. "Screw 'em. I always wanted to do this."

Two weeks after I hauled my oversized bag of goalie gear from the Mount Vernon Ice Center for the last time, and the aches have finally subsided, my evaluation from the Puckstoppers gang arrives. I glance at the list of the position's finer points, including everything from dexterity, glove saves and rebounds. Most of my ratings fall in the "fair" category, with some "good" and a few "excellent" marks. Charity points, I figure. Head coach Chris Dyson reminds me, "glove in front, pads a bit apart."

"If you work on those small points, your game will be huge," writes Dyson. "Unfortunately, there were so many 'small things' I can't remember them all!"

Dyson's good-natured jab is followed by a happy-face doodle. I can read between the lines. I'm being told, gently, "Don't quit your day job." Walter Mitty would be crushed. Not me. Come tomorrow night, I'll be down at the rink, facing rubber.

Best,
-Brion

The gear game …

Back in the day, when I was growing up in New Jersey in the 1960s and '70s, playing goal was a calling, for one simple reason. You got hurt. Often. It was perfectly normal for me to finish a skate with several (or more) multicolored welts, each one recording another save. I took great pride in those bruises, and in many ways, it was pride that drove me to play the position. It certainly wasn't "fun" most of the time.

A big reason was the gear. The equipment simply hadn't caught up to the curved sticks and slap shots, and getting hit repeatedly by a puck was going to be painful, period. I still have a memento – an old cage from my Cooper goalie mask – from my high school days shortly after my family had moved to New Hampshire. The cage is bent almost perfectly around my nose, so it never raises suspicion. But, in truth, the bar was straight as a ruler until a teammate's slap shot in practice caught me square between the eyes. The impact separated the cage from the helmet, and sent me toppling backwards. I slammed the back on my head on the crossbar, and the only thing preventing me from getting a concussion was the helmet I was wearing. But that cage, I'm absolutely convinced, saved my life.

Street hockey wasn't much better, though not life threatening. This was actually my introduction to hockey, spurned on by my Grandpere (my mom's dad), a huge hockey fan and a native of Quebec. We could play year-round on the streets of my New Jersey neighborhood, but early fall was a magic time. The Rangers started training camp, and we'd trade in our baseball gloves and bats for hockey gloves and sticks. But the hard, bright orange Mylec got more and more stiff as the temperatures dropped, and would sting like a son-of-a-gun in weather below 50 degrees (which was compounded by the fact that I, as the goalie, got stiff as well, 'cause I wasn't running around). I remember my mom helping me to fashion some home-made pads out of old, brown denim jeans stuffed with foam. The rest of the gear was fairly rudimentary: hockey glove as a blocker, baseball mitt as a catcher, maybe a cup jock (maybe not, which meant really living dangerously), a catcher's chest protector, heavy sweaters to protect the arms, and a plastic Mylec mask. It wasn't much, but it was enough. Most of the time, anyway. There were some pretty excruciating moments, when a shot found an unprotected area, but those never prevented me from getting back between the pipes.

By the time I hit 8th grade, I knew I wanted to play goalie on the ice as well. Rinks were starting to sprout throughout northern New Jersey, and my brothers and I were quick to sign up. I emulated Ranger netminders Eddie Giacomin and Gilles Villemure in those days, and begged my mom to get real gear. She said get a paper route. So I did. And in 1972 or '73 (I'm not sure … the memory is a little fuzzy), I went to a local sports shop, and got my first genuine set of pads. I remember paying the princely sum of $115 for the leg pads, $40 for the catch glove, and $35 for the blocker. The total bill was about $225 for just about everything I needed, except goalie skates. Those would come later.

Looking back, I can't believe I got an entire set of brand-new, adult-sized handcrafted leather gear (made in Canada, of course) for a shade over $200. Of course, that was almost 40 years ago, but the point is, I was able to outfit myself with the proceeds of a paper route. How many kids can do that today?

As a coach, I realize the financial commitment that playing goal brings, either for the goalie, or his or her parents. It's not cheap. Take the legs pads. Pro-level pads, made north of the border, run at least four figures, with the starting point of roughly $1,200. There are exceptions to the rule, such as Simmons, a very nice pad manufacturer that doesn't spend big buck on pro sponsorships. But the major players – Vaughn, Reebok, Bauer, Brian's, Sher-Wood – will all cost a very pretty penny. If you opt for customized gear, like Trevor Leahey's imaginative Stomp gear in the accompanying photo, you can plan on dropping close to $2,000 on pads and gloves alone. (On the other hand, Trevor went to the Pingree School here in Hamilton, a commuting prep school that runs about $30,000 annually, so I'm guessing cost wasn't a big deal for his folks!)

So what is a goalie parent to do? First, if your young netminder is still growing (ages 6-16), don't go crazy on top-notch gear. Kids will want matching gear, probably the same stuff their heroes wear. What kid wouldn't? Don't fall into that trap. Get them what they need, and save what you can (you'll need it later if he or she sticks with it). Younger goalies (Mites and Squirts) don't need bulletproof protection, because their teammates can't shoot the puck that hard anyway (the coach might get carried away, but that's another story). Don't take the "he'll grow into it" approach, either. You want equipment that fits correctly, and is relatively lightweight. If the pads don't fit correctly, you're setting your child up for frustration at best, and failure at worse.

In this regard, secondhand gear is a great choice, because it depreciates so quickly, and you can usually find very reasonable prices online at sites such as Craig's List, or stores like Play It Again Sports. I've had great luck on Ebay, but that's because I know exactly what I'm looking for, and the size I need. That's a little trickier for parents, since you're still buying the item "blind." If you're new to the world of goalie gear, you want to actually see the stuff you're buying, and you want to make sure it's a good match. Most importantly, make sure your child's knee (with his skates on) fits squarely into the knee cradle of the leg pads. Likewise, the chest and arm protector should fit comfortably – buying this item over-sized will only prevent your young prodigy from being able to move without difficulty. Newer pads are specifically designed to move with the goaltender, but only if they fit correctly.

Since these pads only going to be using it for a season or two, you might also opt for newer pads on the lower end of the price spectrum. To help take the sting out of outfitting a young netminder, most major gear manufacturers now offer equipment made overseas. And while this gear has made significant improvements over the years, it still is inferior, in both materials and workmanship. Still, it might do the trick, depending on your needs. The benefit here is that you're dealing with a shop that (ideally) can show you the correct way to put the pads on. I'm always startled to see how many young goalies show up at our camps and clinics with ill-fitting pads. The funniest are the ones with the pads on the wrong leg (yes, there are "left" and "right" pads). But then I realize that putting n pads, for most parents, is akin to me installing an electrical outlet or changing the brakes on my car. If you've never been shown how to do it, it can be puzzling. Take the time to learn, and encourage your young goaltender to do the same.

For PeeWees and Bantams (ages 11-15), you want to make sure they're protected. Kids can start shooting faster and harder, and the puck isn't getting any softer. Better gear is not just an option; it's a necessity. You'll want to upgrade to goalie pants, and probably a mask with a plastic neck protector (or dangler). Again, go the secondhand route if money is a concern. You can typically find good gear at 25 to 40 cents on the dollar, and your child will benefit from the added measure of safety. Compared to my circa 1972 stuff, today's equipment is far superior, which is one of the biggest reasons goaltending is becoming so popular. It simply doesn't hurt as much. And that's a good thing.

Addendum: My good friend Steve Zinger pointed out that I didn't mention knee/thigh pads, which are a critical piece of protection for young goalies. Many smaller, kid-size leg pads expose the area just above the knee, and just below their hockey pants, when a young goalie drops into the butterfly (or on the ice). Some pads have "thigh boards," but I've found that in less expensive models, these boards don't stay in place. Knee/thigh protectors are an inexpensive yet effective piece of gear to prevent injuries to this very susceptible (and sensitive) part of the leg. Thanks, Steve, for the heads up!

Stay tuned for future posts on the importance of goalie skates, and properly fitted goalie sticks.

All the best,
-Brion