Being a back-up isn't the end of the world

Tyler Stilling's superb prep school career didn't translate to
college, but that didn't stop him from being a great teammate.

Hi gang,

If there was ever the perfect example of the importance of having a quality back-up, Super Bowl 52 was it.

Yes, I was rooting for my hometown New England Patriots, but there's no denying that the Philadelphia Eagles and their MVP quarterback, Nick Foles (yes, a back -up to Carson Wentz) were deserving champions.

All too often we get hung up on a team's stars, forgetting that it's still a "team" game. There's only one QB, just like there's only one goaltender, that plays at any given time. But everyone on the team plays a critical role. My friend Tyler Stillings is proof. Let me know what you think ...

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Being a back-up isn't the end of the world

I come today to praise that time-honored and often under-appreciated teammate – the back-up goaltender.

Talk about a thankless job. The back-up goalie's chief responsibility, during games, is opening and closing the bench door. Or being chief cheerleader while teammates are gasping for air. You've got to be ready to play, at your best, even though you rarely know if you're actually getting into the game.

In practice, the back-up is typically the pin cushion, the target who absorbs all the extra shots after the starter calls off the dogs. Yet no one embodies the bedrock truths of this remarkable game – hard work, teamwork, perseverance, humility, and sacrifice – more than the back-up goalie.

Almost nobody sets out to be the second-string goalie. I say "almost," because I've met players who are more than content to be on the team, without worrying about the requisite pressures of being a starter. This column isn't about them.

Instead, I'm writing to those kids who have every intention of grabbing the crease, but fall short due to any number of circumstances. They're an inch too small, a second too slow, a year too young. No matter what the reason – whether timing or talent – these goalies don't become starters. But they're members of the team nonetheless.

I recently read an article in a national hockey magazine about "non-stars." The author contended that every player – even the kids on the end of the bench – has an important role in a team's success. And parents need to appreciate that their son and/or daughter, no matter whether they're a stud or fourth-line winger, is "an integral part of the hockey team," he wrote.

The irony is that the article's author owns a development program that's Exhibit No. 1 in a youth hockey culture that deifies these pre-teen "stars." The program's ads – in print and on television – are specifically designed to feed the parental mindset that, if you want your kids to be great, they need the extra edge that the program offers.

Of course, the author isn't alone. Plenty of camps and skills programs do this, as do "select" teams. I see it over and over and over again. God forbid your child isn't on a particular program's "Tier I" team; you'll quickly discover what it's like to be a second-class skater despite paying a first-class fee. But that's another column. The point is that all these organization fuel "the dream." I get it. It's a business.

(To be fair, the author does mention several great attributes of those "non-stars," such as being vocal and supportive on the bench and in the locker room, being a leader regardless of playing time, being the first on the ice and the last off during practices, and always putting the team goals before individual accolades. I'm on board with all of those.)

For goaltenders, there's definitely merit to playing. All things being equal, game experience is the single biggest delineation between "good" and "great" players. The prevailing wisdom is, find the highest level of play that guarantees your child plenty of game time. Which leads to this crazy contest of musical chairs, with goalies constantly changing teams and programs to find the "right fit."

Now, I'm Old School. I'm OK with the high school model where you earn your starting spot. That means, unless you're a freshman with all-world talent (in reality, not just your parents' minds), you pay your dues. All things being equal, I'm giving the starting nod to the upperclassmen. They've been in the trenches for two-plus years. They deserve that shot.

A few years back, I had a very promising young goalie try out for his school team as a freshman. Ahead of him were two solid netminders, a junior and a senior, who were virtually interchangeable in the coach's mind. On any given day, any of the goalies could have been the best at practice. But the freshman never got a start, and he chafed at that snub. I counseled patience, pointing out that he was steadily improving, and the coaches could see that. His time would come.

But after his first year, this goalie realized he'd still be sharing the job with the junior, who would now be a senior. So he bolted for a prep school, and got the playing time he craved. I hope it works out. It's a solid school, in a decent league with good academics.

Still, part of me worries this young man may one day regret not playing with his childhood buddies. And he better hope he's always "the man." Prep schools recruit, and the coaching staff won't think twice about bringing in a younger, better goaltender.

Conversely, I really hope coaches make the effort to let their second- and third-string goalies know how valuable they are. That's important for several reasons. One, the coaching staff is just an injury away from having to rely on that back-up goalie (a big reason why I'm a proponent of finding game time for all goalies, any time you can).

Two, coaches can't forget that their raison d'être (literally "reason for being") is not simply winning games, but developing young men and women. That brings me to Tyler Stillings. For the past five years, I've had the pleasure of working with Tyler, who played at the Brooks School in Massachusetts before moving on to Assumption College. But Tyler's career with the Greyhounds didn't go as planned. Injuries and poor play limited his game time.

During our Stop It summer camps, Tyler was one of my favorites. He was never the most talented player on the ice, but he worked his tail off. He could get frustrated, and sometimes "over thought" the position. But Tyler played with heart, and almost always a smile. It was impossible not to root for him.

After his senior year, when he again rode the pine, Tyler wrote about his experiences. He acknowledged that he lived and breathed hockey as a teenager, but eventually learned, like 98 percent of youth players, there was more to life than the game. At Assumption, he became an orientation leader, an alumni ambassador and a tutor in the academic support center.

"Hockey will always be a large part of who I am," wrote Tyler. "But it is just that: part of a complicated human being. At the end of this weird journey, Tyler Stillings the college hockey player may be considered a failure. But Tyler Stillings the person certainly won't be. I’m excited to see where he goes next."

I quickly reached out to Tyler, and told him that he wasn't even remotely close to being a failure in my eyes. He responded with a laugh, saying "underachieved is probably more mature diction."

Wrong again. Tyler Stillings was and is a hockey player. Period. He was a great teammate, who led by word and deed. Being a hockey player is not a separate entity. It is part of who Tyler is. That made him a success by any measure. Even as a back-up goalie.

FINIS

Why we play the game

Every kid should have heroes to look up to. One of
mine was Eddie Giacomin of the New York Rangers.

Hi gang,

This post comes at an interesting time, when I find myself at a crossroads of sorts in my coaching career. Last winter, I underwent back surgery for a condition called "spinal stenosis." It's basically arthritis of the spine, and my lower back was a mass of arthritic growth pressing on my spinal column and the nerves that branch off from it.

I tried to deal with my condition for several months via "non-invasive" measures, including chiropractic care and steroid injections. When it became abundantly clear that my back wasn't going to heal itself, I had the surgeons open me up. The laminectomy of my L3-L4, L4-L5, and L5-S1 joints is designed to take the pressure off the nerves, in the hopes that they can regain their normal function. My surgeon -- a great guy -- was honest and direct with me. He said he couldn't guarantee that I'd have any type of "miracle recovery." And whatever recovery I did have could take between six and 18 months.

"All I can guarantee is that you won't get better without the surgery," he said.

Finally, at the seven-month mark in my recovery, I got the green light from my surgeon and physical therapist to skate again. It was a disaster. I felt like a first-time skater, absolutely terrified. It was clear that while I had recovered much of my strength, my balance was way off. So it's back to the drawing board, and back to physical therapy. Our summer camps will go on without me. But I'm fortunate to have a great wife, and a great physical therapist, who won't let me mope. Whatever recovery I make, it will be because they wouldn't let me quit.

All of which brings me to the following column, which now seems more poignant than ever. I plan to get back to coaching, but if it doesn't happen, stories like this remind me that I had a great run. Let me know what you think ...

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Why we play the game

It's not easy growing old in the goalie coaching business. There's the subtle-but-insidious risk of getting labeled "Old School," or a curmudgeon in training. I've been in the game for a half century now, and I understand that different generations bring different challenges. Kids change.

Parenting styles have definitely changed as well. My coaching philosophy reflects my parenting philosophy, which I learned from my mom (who would have been a great coach, if she wasn't so busy raising six kids). It's not about being friends with my kids, or my players. It's about getting them to be accountable, to dig deep, and make the most of their God-given talents. That sometimes means employing some "tough love," and bringing the hammer. If you're afraid to bring the hammer, you're probably selling your kids short.

That said, I've loved the changes in the position (even if they accelerated the demise of my hips during my 40s and early 50s). Techniques, and equipment, have evolved tremendously. But the exceptional challenge, and thrill, of being the "last line of defense" never changes. That's what makes goaltending, to my mind, really special. And that's what makes goaltenders special.

My favorite students are those goalies who absolutely relish the challenge of stopping rubber. It's not about the cool equipment, or the accolades. It's about doing whatever necessary to keep the puck out of the net, to just give your team a chance to win. Which brings me to "Cary."

Every now and then, I get a note that completely stops me in my tracks. Dead stop. The email below is just such a note. I've changed the name of the author, because I'm using it without his permission. To be perfectly honest, I was afraid he might not want me to use it. But the emotions that "Cary" elicited with his note cut to the very core of why I love this game so much, so I felt compelled to share it.

So, without further ado, here is Cary's note:

Hey Coach,
Hope all is well. It's Cary. Just checking in to see how everything is. I've been going back and reading through your Goalie Guru blog again, and really enjoying it. I'm currently sitting in an office for an internship. I've been enjoying growing up, college, the freedom, the responsibility, the accountability.
But as I sit in this monotonous office working upwards of 10 hours every day, Monday through Friday, I've been trying to build a time machine in an attempt to go back in time and locate exactly where, when and why reality trumped imagination in my childhood/teen adolescence. (I'm) trying to figure out when I stopped believing in the crazy dream that someday I would suit up for the (Montreal) Habs, even if it was for one game. Why I hung up the skates just because I was better at lacrosse, and had a much better chance of playing it in college. Why I just walked away from the sport of hockey completely.
 A part of me is heartbroken over this. It's almost like I had to compromise my dreams so that they would become more realistic to me in my head. I miss getting in fights in middle school because I wore a Canadiens jersey three times a week. I miss standing in front of my house with a sign that said 'Free Shots' while using cardboard boxes as leg pads, a baseball glove, and a regular hockey glove as a blocker, guarding (my neighbor's) worn-down nets. I miss playing street hockey every day of every month with my best friends until we got yelled at by neighbors or we lost all our balls to the darkness. 
I also certainly enjoyed being given the opportunity to play at the high school level. I wish I just tried to keep going, as crazy and unrealistic as the whole dream seemed. I guess maybe reality caught up to me when I started thinking that I began playing the position and sport too late, and did not have enough time to develop or compete with others. Maybe I was right, maybe I'm wrong. The chase was what it was all about, though. I still glance at those Simmons pads from time to time with a multitude of emotions.
 However, I am not writing to you about me. I just wanted to let you know how much I enjoy your writing. Reading through it has sparked a fire in me that I haven't felt in awhile. Thank you. Hope all is well.
 All the best,
 Cary

That evening, an hour after Cary's email arrived, my wife found me sitting at my desk, streaks of tears lining my face. I'm sure Cary has no idea the kind of spark his email would contain, and the emotions that it brought to the fore for me. I could relate completely, because I was once a kid much like Cary.

Northern New Jersey in the 1960s and '70s wasn't the hockey hotbed it is today. But it didn't matter. My brothers and I were nuts about the game that our maternal grandfather had introduced us to. We would play any chance we had. Every … single … day. I'm sure my mom considered it "a phase," but it was much, much more than that. I simply couldn't get enough.

Eddie Giacomin and Gilles Villemure of the New York Rangers were my heroes, even though I was tall and lanky, built more like the Canadiens' Ken Dryden. I'd watch every game I could, often sneaking off to my neighbor's house, because they had that newfangled cable station broadcasting the Ranger home games (we would turn off the sound, and put on the radio, with Marv Albert making the calls). Giacomin was fiery, a guy who overcame long odds to make it to The Show. My kind of goaltender.

I may not have had the same natural talent, but I loved keeping the puck out of the net. That's what drove me as a young goaltender. Heck, it's what drove me as a beer-league goalie (where I was probably a little too fiery for my own good). And it's what continues to drive me as a goalie coach. I'm passionate about the game, and the position. That wonderful obsession hasn't waned, despite my advanced age, and despite a pair of new titanium hips.

I'm sure part of that passion is developed over time, fueled by some measure of success and encouragement. But I firmly believe that most of it is innate. It's who you are. You've either got it, or you don't. That's one of the reasons that self-actualization is critical. Kids who will do anything to stop shots are far less likely to blame teammates. They want the responsibility, and they're willing to accept the results.

Players who bring that passion to the ice are rare. Over the years, the game has kept me young. Today, it's kids like Cary who fill that role. I'm a very lucky man to be able to share their dream.

FINIS

Goalies need to be included in situational drills & game plans

To be more effective, goalie coaches should be incorporated into
coaching sessions for the entire team, not just the goaltenders.

Hi gang,

OK double or nothing today (see, I promised I'd get back u to speed). One of the most frustrating aspects of being a goalie coach is the sense, on far too many teams, that you're some kind of appendage, responsible only for making sure that the goalies stop the puck.

But there's much more to goaltending, and to goalie coaching. That's the topic of the following column.  Let me know what you think ...

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Goalies need to be included in situational drills & game plans

This month, with the traditional start of club and select hockey already under way, I want to talk to the coaches. Head coaches, and assistant coaches. Sure, goalies and goalie coaches can listen in (and I'll wager that you'll find plenty of material here to advocate either for yourself or your goaltender). But my target audience is the group of coaches who are in charge, especially those running situational drills.

Those "situational" drills include power play, penalty kill, forecheck, breakout, odd-man rushes, and the like. Goalies typically know when these drills are coming, because the coach will often look at them, or the goalie coach, and recommend that they work on something "goalie related" at the other end of the ice. It's as if the goalies really didn't have any use for anything that the coaches would be covering in these situational drills.

Without the slightest exaggeration, I've lost count of the number of times this has happened to me as a coach. I'm willing to bet my house that this experience is the rule, and not the exception. And that reveals an enormous disconnect between the coaching staff and their goaltenders.

I've written about this before. I call it the "Auto Body Approach" to coaching goalies. In short, this method is the favorite of coaches who like to dent and damage their goalies in practice, send them off to a private goalie coach (the auto body shop) to get patched up, and then repeat the entire process all over again. It's an inherently flawed approach.

Basically, here's what's wrong with this thinking. First, it perpetuates the Old School concept that goalies only have one job, and that's to stop the puck. Granted, that's still a goalie's primary responsibility. No debate there. But that thinking only recognizes one of many jobs that a good goalie needs to be concerned about. Which leads directly to my second point.

Goalies need to be coaches on the ice. It is the only position where the action is coming directly to them. It's very similar to a catcher in baseball. Pitches, and ultimately opposing players, are coming to home plate. But 90 percent of the time, the play is out in front of them, which gives them a unique and important perspective on the game. The same holds for goaltenders. While goaltender's skating "area" is fairly limited, we know that eventually the puck is coming right at us.

I often refer to the goaltender as the "eye of the hurricane." That's why we, as goalie coaches, often tell our goaltenders to speak up. The game is played at such a fast pace these days that defenders rarely have the opportunity to process things thoroughly. They have to act on habit, or instinct. Or they can listen to the goaltender. Ideally, the goaltender, with the added "luxury" of time, can assess the game situation and bark accurate instructions to the defensemen.

However, to ensure those commands are in sync with the coach, the goaltenders need the time to observe these "situational" drills in practice. That allows them to fully incorporate how you want the defense to play in a variety of game situations. If you don't include your goaltenders in these sessions, you've really got no right to blame them for shouting the wrong instructions.

Finally, telling the goalie coach to go off and "work with the goalies" denies the team a chance to hear another important voice. And that's the voice of the goalie coach. Yeah, I know that sounds self-serving. But the reality is, few people know more about scoring than goalie coaches, because we're constantly working on stopping the puck in every situation imaginable.

Here's a great example. While recently watching one of my teams run a two-on-one rush, I noticed two things. First, the defenders were wildly inconsistent with how they played the odd-man rush. A big reason was that the goalie and defenders weren't on the same page, and that breakdown in communication resulted in obvious confusion.

However, they were able to get away with it because the second forward (the one without the puck), was often too close to the puckcarrier, or too close to the defender. Both situations made the defender's job much easier. If that second player either drove wide, or drifted to open space instead of directly to the net, they would have given the player with the puck better passing options. That creates more headaches for the defense, and forces the goalie to cover more ground.

Another time, during a one-on-one drill, two of the team's strongest forwards kept trying to deke their defenders. And they hardly ever got a shot off. The problem was that, while both forwards were big and strong, neither were particularly fast, and neither had particularly silky hands. So I pulled them both aside, and suggested that they use the defender as a screen, shot the puck low, and crash the net for rebounds.

Not surprisingly, they started making things happen by making life a whole lot more uncomfortable not only for the goalies, but the defenders as well. That's the idea, right? And it was really rewarding to see these two forwards "get it."

So here's what I recommend. If you're a coach, make sure your goalies are involved in team drills. Every drill. That will help ensure that your netminders have a grasp on how you want your team to play, and can convey that game plan on the ice. At the higher levels of the game, clear, concise communication is critical to team success, especially in the defensive end. That doesn't happen magically in a game. You need to develop it in practice.

Furthermore, if you're fortunate enough to have a goalie coach, take full advantage of having him (or her) on board. Pick their brains. Get their input. Encourage them to participate. The old adage that goalies are "just weird" is as outdated, and inaccurate, as the effectiveness of trickle-down economics. We know the game. You may not agree with everything we have to offer, which is fine. But being open to different ideas is a hallmark of great coaching.

FINIS

Lessons from a goaltender who went above and beyond the call

Goaltender Chris Dylewski's greatest contributions
to the Air Force Academy came off the ice.

Hi all,

Sorry for, once again, falling behind on my monthly posts. It's been wacky and unpredictable summer, but I'm hoping to get back up to speed over the next few weeks. And there's probably no better subject to do that with than Chris Dylewski, a recent graduate of  the Air Force Academy and the 2016 winner of the Hockey Humanitarian Award.

So, without further introduction, my column on this remarkable young man. Let me know what you think ...

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Lessons from a goaltender who went above and beyond the call

Air Force goaltender Chris Dylewski was not super star.

Aside from the fact that he attended a service academy (and every one of those men and women are all-stars in my book), Dylewski was buried deep on coach Frank Serratore's bench. Just the past April, we at the New England Hockey Journal highlighted the breakout season of Dylewski's teammate, goalie Shane Starrett, a Boston University cast-off who grabbed the starting spot for the Falcons.

The 24-year-old Dylewski wasn't even the Falcons' backup. That job belonged to freshman Billy Christopoulos. But Dylewski was a team leader nonetheless. Don't take my word for it. Take the word of his coach.

"Chris is a vital member of our team who sets the tone in practice, in the weight room and in team meetings," said Serratore. "Despite not seeing a lot of ice time on Friday and Saturday, he absolutely makes us a better team with his work ethic Monday through Thursday. Nobody works harder than Chris."

Serratore didn't stop there.

"(Chris) has been a great mentor on a team with so many young players," said the Air Force bench boss. "He's an excellent student at a challenging academic school. He does everything that being a Division 1 athlete entails, while being an excellent leader in the cadet wing and in the community.

"No one has spare time here at the Air Force Academy, but he finds a way," said Serratore. "That's what makes him so remarkable."

Last spring, during the NCAA's Frozen Four weekend, Dylewski received the Hockey Humanitarian Award. The award recognizes "college hockey's finest citizen, a student-athlete who makes significant contributions not only to his or her team, but also to the community-at-large through leadership in volunteerism."

To be sure, Dylewski was a deserving candidate. His achievements in the Cadet Wing and in his hometown Colorado Springs are beyond impressive. In addition to being a D-1 athlete, Dylewski carried the extra academic workload of two majors (international history and political science), and established a local non-profit organization as well as two cadet clubs, the Guide to Cadet Life and Operation Safe.

In 2014, Dylewski founded RISE, Inc., with the lofty goal of developing ethical and inspirational leadership skills in young people. RISE approaches this mission by supporting young people in running their own community service projects, and providing a mentoring, advisory, and support program to build these skills. The group emphasizes supporting underprivileged youth.

One RISE project was a Cadet Wing shoe drive, which collected more than 900 pairs of shoes that were then donated to needy families in Colorado Springs. The project is now an annual effort.

As a sophomore, Dylewski, moved by a classmate's suicide, founded a program that produces the annual Guide to Cadet Life. The publication is considered an invaluable tool for adjusting to the difficult first year at the Air Force Academy. Last year, Dylewski created Operation Safe, which is committed to raising awareness within the Academy about important humanitarian issues, like sex trafficking.

He also took the lead on several community outreach programs with his teammates, such as the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation's Walk for the Cure and trips to local schools, emphasizing the importance of education. His volunteer work includes Blue Star Mothers of America, Special Olympics, and visiting nursing homes and community centers. I'm exhausted simply reading the list.

"The things I did outside the classroom and rink helped me in more ways than I helped others, I am sure of that," he said. "It never felt like I didn't have enough time to do things like work with young people with a passion for community service. Those hours were always ones I look forward to. They gave me more energy. I was enormously lucky to be doing things that I love."

But as inspiring as Dylewski's off-ice accomplishments are, it's his role within the locker room that was a real difference-maker in terms of this column. Keep in mind, the only time he got on the ice on game night was during warm-ups, and the between period skate to and from the bench. This season, Dylewski played in two games, collecting six career minutes in net. It's not the career he envisioned 15 years earlier.

"I first put on the pads at Clune Arena at the Air Force Academy," he said. "It was a pretty typical set-up for a Mite team – we just rotated the pads among the members of the team every time out.

"When it was my turn to wear the pads, I decided that I didn't want to give them back. Since then, I think it's really helped shape my personality. I like being counted on, being perpetually involved, and demanding near perfection of myself."

Dylewski personifies one of my rock-solid tenets of goaltending: The position comes with inherent leadership qualities. Goalies are rarely selected captains, but that has more to do with the in-game logistics of being able to talk with the on-ice officials.

But goalies need to lead by example. They need to be exceedingly positive, and self-assured. If they're not upbeat, they can bring the team down. And that's just as important in practice as it is during games.

"I've always felt it was the responsibility of the goalie to set a tone on and off the ice, and project a calm confidence for the team to mirror," said Dylewski.

What Dylewski embodies is that goaltenders aren't some oddball appendage to a team. They're an integral part of the team, even if they're not getting much game time.

"For me it was most important to focus on what I could contribute on a daily basis," he said. "On a Wednesday before a big game, two-thirds of the way through the season, I remember thinking that we seemed to be lacking a bit of the energy we typically had. So I resolved to be as sharp and energetic as possible on that day and the next."

Dylewski's refreshing outlook also bucks a rather disturbing trend I've seen in hockey over the past few years. In short, there are far too many goalies – good goalies – who somehow feel like they've failed if they didn't win the starting spot.

If nothing else, Dylewski proves that, in hockey, game statistics – wins, losses, save percentage, goals against average – are not the complete measure of the man (or woman).

"I always find myself talking about what I did for others, and what I accomplished during these things, but the real story here is not me," he said. "The real story, as far as I see it, is that I have been given incredible gifts by the hockey world.

"The sport has given me the ability to focus on things greater than myself, to understand what it means to serve others toward a higher goal, helped me understand what it means to focus, train, and perform on a kind of level that is absolutely necessary in whatever pursuit a human being is involved in in today's complex and challenging world," said Dylewski. "My parents, my coaches and teammates, and the Air Force Academy gave me the opportunity to play the game, and I couldn't be more thankful."

Spoken like a true leader.

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:

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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

Too much of a good thing is potentially bad for goalies

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

Hi gang,

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

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

All the best,
-Brion

##

Too much of a good thing is potentially bad for goalies

"Get the balance right … "
-Depeche Mode

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I couldn’t agree more.

FINIS

Few understand the exquisite agony of a goalie gaffe

Boston University goaltender Matt O'Connor.

Hi gang,

Every goaltender gives up bad goals. Unfortunately, they come with the territory. But how we deal with those bad goals often defines who we are, what kind of character we have, and what kind of goaltender we'll ultimately be.

Boston University's Matt O'Connor (no relation) gave up a terrible goal (a full video can be seen here) at the worst possible time -- The NCAA title game, with his team nursing a one-goal lead. Absolutely brutal. How he moves forward from this will speak volumes about this young man. This piece was originally published for Sports Illustrated's Edge platform (seen here). Let me know what you think ...

##

Few understand the exquisite agony of a goalie gaffe

There are bad dreams. Then there are nightmares. Hockey goaltenders know both. But it's the nightmares that can not only cost them a game, or a championship, but also derail a career.

"(Montreal Canadien Hall of Famer) Jacques Plante said it best," said Dr. Saul Miller, author of "Hockey Tough" and "Performing Under Pressure." "He said, 'Can you imagine a job where every time you make a mistake, a red light goes on and 15,000 people stand up and cheer?' That's pressure."

Boston University junior netminder Matt O'Connor knows. Coming into the Frozen Four, the undrafted Ontario native had a banner season, backstopping the Terriers to the biggest turnaround in college hockey. NHL scouts took notice after O'Connor and BU captured Beanpot and Hockey East championships on the Boston Bruins home ice, the TD Garden. The third championship game, however, would not be the charm.

After recovering from a puck-handling miscue in the national semifinal against North Dakota, which BU won 5-3, O'Connor and his Terrier mates were battling the Providence Friars for the NCAA title. With less than nine minutes left, and BU nursing a 3-2 lead, Friar defenseman Tom Parisi lofted a harmless dump-in toward the Terrier net. It was such a routine play that Parisi turned for a line change the moment the puck left his stick.

O'Connor caught Parisi's pop fly, but in a split second of indecisiveness, he hesitated as his defensemen circled back. The puck slipped from his glove, and fell between his legs. O'Connor dropped to his knees, inadvertently knocking the puck into his goal. As two BU teammates clutched their helmets in disbelief, O'Connor looked agonizingly into his empty mitt. It was a soul-crushing gaffe.

Moments later, Friar Brandon Tanev ripped the game-winner over O'Connor's left shoulder, giving Providence a 4-3 victory and their first men's hockey national championship. But even in celebration, Friar goaltender John Gillies, the Frozen Four MVP despite giving up a shaky early goal of his own, empathized with his counterpart.

"As a goalie, you feel for a bounce like that," said Gillies, who signed with the Calgary Flames this week. "You've been there, so you know the bottomless feeling that it presents."

The key phrase is, "as a goalie." The position carries unique pressures that few positional players can fully appreciate unless they've spent time between the pipes. But all goalies, from 6-year-olds to the NHL (especially those now playing in the Stanley Cup playoffs), are all too familiar with the weight or expectations. St. Louis Blues goaltender Jake Allen felt the heat after he gave up two embarrassingly soft goals against the Minnesota Wild in Game 6 of the opening round, costing his team the game and the series.

"If a forward isn't forechecking aggressively, and the other team has an easy breakout, who notices it?" said Miller. "If the D-man's gap is too big and the opponent gets some momentum and generates a chance, some people might see that. But if the goalie makes a mistake, the whole world sees it. It's very consequential."

Bad goals magnify that burden. Worse, goalies can't actively atone for a mistake. If an infielder boots a grounder in baseball, he can make amends next time he bats. But a goaltender must wait for the game to come to him.

"The difference between good goalies and really good goalies is having patience," said Brian Daccord of Stop It Goaltending, a former goalie coach for the Bruins. "That's mental toughness."

So how does a goalie recover? In the moment, Miller suggests taking a deep breath and reiterating key concepts, like staying square to the shooter. In the big picture, however, it's essential that goalies cultivate a positive mindset.

"Everybody gets scored upon," said Miller. "Maybe not quite as dramatically, or in the theater that this was, but everyone gets scored on. So you have to learn, as a goalie, how to let it go and get back to the present. The mantra is, 'Next shot. See it, and stop it.' That's all the goalie should be thinking."

Dr. Dan Schaefer, author of "Click! The Competitive Edge for Sports, Entertainment, and Business," said the subconscious mind plays a vital role in a goalie's ability to "bounce back" from a bad goal. Negative thoughts can become self-fulfilling prophecies.

"What's the internal conversation?" said Schaefer. "Most self-talk is negative, and it's contaminating."

Schaeffer employs hypnosis to help clients uncover hidden mental riddles, solve them, and take ownership.

"How do you control your mind game?" he said. "How do you talk to yourself going into the game? How do you identify and eliminate distractions?"

Both Schaefer and Miller draw on examples from the animal kingdom to help goalies quickly regain focus. Schaeffer prefers the rhinoceros. "A rhino is the only animal that never backs up," he said. "He just keeps moving forward."

Miller likes big cats. When a lion fails to catch an antelope, it doesn't wallow in self-pity.

"There's no negative judgment," he said. "It's always about getting after the next one. So it's a training thing. It's teaching people a process."

Following the game, O'Connor faced the music. The 23-year-old sat in his stall, answering question after question about a mistake he couldn't explain. That post-game performance, say sports psychologists, was an important first step.

"There’s nothing like public humiliation to test your mental fortitude and humbleness," said Dr. Adam Naylor, director of Telos Sport Psychology Coaching. "If you're not willing to be embarrassed, it's tough to play freely at the highest levels.

"The first step in such emotional setbacks is to allow yourself to grieve a bit," said Naylor. "Grieving when something meaningful is lost is a critical piece of being able to step forward.

"When it's time to compete, the great ones look ahead rather than look back," he said. "The past has been mourned and put into perspective. Now it's time to play and write the next chapter."

Perspective also allows goaltenders to remember all the important saves they've made. BU's Hobey Baker winner Jack Eichel confirmed that his teammates understood O'Connor's performance was a major factor in the Terriers reaching the Frozen Four.

"The one thing about goaltending is that you always have to prove yourself," said Daccord. "It never ends. Whether you give up a bad goal, or win a Stanley Cup, you have to prove yourself. "

Matt O'Connor will undoubtedly welcome that opportunity.

FINIS

Wanderlust is not the best trait of a quality goalkeeper

You can't always get what you want, and even some
of the world's best goalies (Montreal's Carey Price,
in this instance) spend some time riding the pine.

Hi gang,

Early fall is ice hockey's second "silly season." The first is in the spring, immediately following the end of the actual hockey season. This is when parents start scrambling like mad to find the "right" select team for their young hockey player.

What they don't always understand is that nothing is guaranteed, even in youth hockey. The composition of the team you thought you were joining might well change - and change dramatically - by the time your child suits up in the fall. That can mean the addition of another goalie who will challenge your child for ice time. (Trust me, anyone who takes a "club" or "select" hockey official at his or her "word" is begging to be disappointed.)

And the fallout is all too predictable. Johnny (or Janey) isn't getting as much ice time and Mommy and Daddy think is appropriate. So they start playing "musical teams" with their child, looking for a better situation. I saw one glaring example of this in youth hockey, when a father (I'll call him  "Joey") moved his son ("Billy") to four different teams over two years. Billy was a good kid, always cheerful and smiling, but he wasn't a very good goaltender. Pucks just found their way through him, constantly, regardless of how much additional instruction he got. But Joey kept insisting his child ought to be a starting goalie, which meant he had to keep changing jerseys.

And Billy went along with it, primarily (I'm guessing) because he didn't have a choice. Along the way, I'm convinced Billy actually started to believe what his father was preaching. Billy thought he was better than he was. Which, of course, almost always leads to disappointment. Which got me writing about the topic. Let me know what you think ...

##

Wanderlust is not the best trait of a quality keeper

The youth sports landscape has become increasingly complicated these days. Spring and summer have transformed into bizarre migration seasons for young athletes, where players and their parents move to a new school, a new team, or a new program in the hopes of finding a "better fit."

A better fit, of course, is parent-speak for "a place where my kid will get a fair shake, because he hasn't gotten one yet." I've seen this phenomenon happen at all ages. Many coaches have.

"Yeah, kids are jumping everywhere. If they don't like what's going on, they go somewhere else," Boston University legend Jack Parker told me once. "I will give you an example. When I was recruiting Tony Amonte (in 1987), he was a terrific player at Thayer Academy. He was 17 years old at the time, trying out for the Junior Olympic team. Now, they let him try out, because he was such a talent and they knew he was going to be on the junior team in the future. But there was no way he was going to make the junior team as a 17-year-old kid.

"But they let him try out, and there was a game on the South Shore, and they were playing a junior all-star team," said Parker. "Tony came out after the game with a long face on. His father said, 'What's wrong with you?' And Tony says 'What's wrong with me? I didn't play much. Didn't you watch the game?'

"And his father says, 'That's what's bothering you, Tony?'

"'Yeah, I didn't play enough.'

"'Well, Tony, let me ask you something. Do you want to play more?' And Tony says, 'Yeah, of course I want to play more.'

"And his father says, 'Then play better, Tony.' He didn't say 'The coaches are screwing you,' or 'You're way better than those other kids.' He just said 'Play better.' And that was it."

Youth hockey could use more parents like Mr. Amonte. Jump ahead 22 years, to June 2010, when a 39-year-old Tony Amonte was named the head coach at Thayer Academy. His athletic director, Matt McGuirk (Thayer, class of '92) knew things were going to be different when Amonte returned. Very different.

"When you and I were playing, there was one all-star team in town, and if you didn't make it, you played for your youth team," McGuirk told me three years ago. "Now, there's 55 all-star teams, a lot of for-profit organizations that will, quite frankly, tell you anything you want to hear if you're going to give them $5,000.

"What Tony represents is not so much a complete 180, but the bottom line is, there's no politics involved with his gig," said McGuirk. "You come out, you try out for the team. If you make the team, you're going to be an integral part of the team, whether you're a first-liner or a fourth-liner.

"Tony is all about the Old School meets the New School, and I think that's really important. In this age of enablement, this age that there's always another option, this age of materialism, Tony is all about getting to the core of it. You show up, you go to work, and you go home. The message is so important now, especially with kids today. If you want something bad enough, you can get it. Tony is of the school that you have to earn it. You've got to earn everything you get."

Amonte agreed with his former teammate, noting that the landscape, and its inherent wanderlust, has irrevocably changed, "not only high school hockey, but hockey in general. There are different forces pulling these kids everywhere. Keeping these kids in school is going to be a task, and I think it's going to be a task for every coach."

"It's tough," said Amonte, parsing his words carefully. "There's a lot of competition (for players) out there. There are tons of teams, and everyone wants to win."

As a result, the hockey landscape is filled with bedouin players, nomadic tribesmen roaming from rink to rink, program to program. And the situation is particularly applicable for goaltenders, for one obvious reason. While there can be 12 to 18 positional players per team getting ice time in any given game, there is usually just one goaltender. Most teams carry two or three goaltenders, but too many coaches, with their blinders firmly fastened on in their relentless drive for wins, will ride their No. 1 netminder upwards of 80-90 percent of the time. Sometimes every minute. Which, of course, can lead to disappointment and bruised feelings for the kids who aren't playing. And for Mom and Dad.

"Parents are part of the picture now," said McGuirk. "Being able to solve a problem by moving laterally rather than actually solving he problem through work ethic and determination, is more of the trend now. "

I've seen it firsthand. One glaring example comes to mind, a young man who I've coached since he first strapped on the pads at age six or seven. I've watched him grow, and become a very solid young netminder. Not spectacular, but solid. His freshman year, he attended a nearby prep school, but transferred to another for his sophomore year because his prospects of varsity playing time looked dim. After his junior year, a season in which he was the clear-cut starter, the young man was on the move again, leaving his prep school squad for a junior team. "We felt it was in his best interests," I heard, admittedly second-hand, from a "family adviser."

Really? I'd like to know just what those "best interests" are. I know it's a subjective term, but being the starting goaltender at a prep school with a good academic reputation seems like a pretty sweet arrangement to me. But junior teams offer more games, and supposedly more exposure, which supposedly equates to a better chance for a college scholarship or other opportunities. Clearly, going the prep school route didn't hurt Cory Schneider (Phillips Andover) and Rick DiPietro (St. Sebastian's School), but I recognize that they were exceptional talents. It has to be tougher for the middle-of-the-pack goaltender.

This is where character comes in. Developing character means learning to deal with adversity. And the best way to deal with adversity is to work harder. A determined work ethic is the gritty sandpaper needed to create an exquisite piece of furniture. It is the resolve that will sustain you as you get older, and life throws you curve ball after curve ball.

"That's the big dilemma. Do you take the kid with the heart, or the kid with the skill," said Amonte, when asked what is the greatest character trait he looks for in recruits. "I go for the heart every time. You can teach the skill, you can teach the systems, you can tell them where to be, but if they don't have the work ethnic, it's never going to be there.

"It's a learned skill too," he said. "Every day on the ice is a day you can get better. That's the way I look at it. You can try something new, you can try to get better, and do something you didn't do the day before."

Amen. You don't measure heart or work ethic by the miles that you've logged transferring between programs, or the number of teams you've played for. You measure it in effort you put in during practice and games, and in the weight room, off-season and in-season. As you start your season this fall, recommit yourself to that work ethic, and to your team.

FINIS

Getting the balance right for young goaltenders

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

Hi gang,

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

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

Getting the balance right for young goaltenders

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FINIS

The boys and girls of summer

Putting a young goalie in "time out" ...

Hi gang,

Nothing like a little hip-replacement surgery to force me to take some much-needed down time, and get The Goalie Guru current. This is always an interesting time of year for me, as spring represents such a transition time for the hockey player.

The following is a recent Goalie Guru column for the New England Hockey Journal, on the benefits (and myths) regarding summer camps, inspired by my own experiences over the past 10 years. Let me know what you think ...

WHAT A GOALIE CAMP WILL - AND WON'T - DO FOR YOU

Full disclosure. I often feel uncomfortable lobbying for summer hockey camps. It appears self-serving, since I spend a good chunk of my summer working for them. I understand that. However, that fact also keeps me honest, and I always make every effort to give every child my full attention. I've never mailed it in.

But my allegiance to summer camps goes beyond that. The reality is, I'm a fan of good sports camps of any kind, and my daughters are proof. My eldest, Maddi, attended an overnight volleyball camp in my wife's home state, Kansas, and came home with the tools to jump-start a terrific freshman season. My youngest, Brynne, is a 13-year-old hockey player, and she's benefited greatly by the "immersion" that a weeklong summer camp provides, and she'll be going back to a skating and stickhandling camp this summer. That's when she's not at soccer camp.

So, while I work for camps, as a parent I can appreciate the positive impact they can have. As long as kids also get a break. Booking your young goalie for eight weeks of camps over the summer is begging for burnout. On the other hand, the "concentrated dose" that a weeklong camp offers is invaluable, because it provides essential building blocks. Just like a good diet – you need to establish a solid foundation, which supports future development.

Here's another reason I'm a fan of summer goaltending camps. They are all about goalies. Period. Not shooters, not defensive schemes, power plays or penalty kills (though those topics are covered extensively, from a goalie's perspective). This is just the opposite of almost every youth hockey program I've seen, where goalies are treated like some sort of mildly intriguing appendage.

Campers will get plenty of work, likely more than they bargained for. But the workload is designed to make the goalies stronger, quicker, smarter, instead of simply running them into the ground (which, as best I can tell, is the end-product of roughly three-quarters of the shorting drills I see in youth hockey these days).

Still, don't be fooled into thinking all camps are equal. There's a well-known shooting and stickhandling camp (which will remain unnamed, to protect the guilty) that offers free spots for goaltenders. When I inquired, I learned there was no instruction. Absolutely none. Zero. They wouldn't even consider having a goalie coach on the ice. These camps simply wanted targets (and, in reality, should have been paying those poor kids). The lesson? Be sure to ask beforehand.

So, with all that said, here are a few persistent myths about camps I'd like to dispel:

You'll get better by just showing up. OK, there's some truth to this. We will make you a better goaltender. But if you think the ability of Mom and Dad to pay for a camp will miraculous make you an NHL All-Star, you're misinformed. Playing goal takes work. Sweat and exertion. There are no shortcuts.

Nice gear makes a better goaltender. There's an old saying, which I repeat often during my goalie sessions: "A good craftsmen doesn't blame his tools." Mommy and Daddy might be able to afford this camp, and all the really expensive gear that the position requires, but if you don't bring the requisite effort, it will all go for naught. Bank on it.

Camps are to get in shape. Wrong. Anyone showing up to camp "to get in shape" is going to miss half the benefit, because they'll be spending half the time trying to keep lunch down, or trying not to huck a lung. The kids who benefit most from camps are the ones who show up ready to roll on Day One. You are reading this in April (or at least the April issue). You have no excuses. Get in shape now.

We will hold your hand. Hockey is a great game because it not only teaches self-sufficiency, but also because it treats that concept as one of its bedrock principles. We – your councilors and instructors – are not getting between the pipes. You are. So it's our job to make sure you're ready to do your job. If you think you're going to get pampered, think again. That would be a disservice to your folks, your team, and ultimately, to you. Our job is to make sure you get in the pool without drowning. And we'll show you how to get faster. But whether you actually get any better or not is really, at the end of the day, up to you.

We will tie your skates, and put on your pads. See the previous paragraph. Throughout the week at camp, we'll offer advice, particularly when it comes to ill-fitting or inadequate gear. My colleague Kevin Morrison at Bertagna Goaltending loves to remind youngsters to cut the boot straps on their pads to an appropriate length, to avoid tripping on them if they come loose. We talk about proper gear care (don't leave it in your bag; hang it in front of a dehumidifier), and gear fit. But we're not nannies.

We are your parents. Not even close. But we understand that Mom and Dad are laying out a pretty penny for you to attend, and we're going to make sure they get their money's worth. But if you talk back or throw temper tantrums at home, and expect to get away with the same behavior at camp, you're in for a shock. There are, at a minimum, 14 or 15 other campers sharing the ice with you. My experience has been that about 75-80 percent of them will dig deep and work hard. If you don't, simply because you can't adjust your attitude, you'll get left behind.

It's all about competition. The objective of these camps is to improve. But far too many kids treat it like a competition, and as a result default to old, comfortable habits, even if those habits prevent them from getting better (the classic example is a kid who stays on the goal line because he's a afraid of getting caught out of position, even though he's giving up half the goal. The solution is becoming a better skater, not staying deep). I remind my campers that I'm not the one picking their teams, or their team's starting goalie. They don't have to worry about impressing me. I only want them to get better. That means getting out of their comfort zone, and push their limits. To quote Brian Daccord of Stop It Goaltending: "In season, it's about results. In the summer, you're working on improving technique, improving quickness, working on your strategies and your technical game, so you know how you want to play every situation. You want to work on your weaknesses, try new things, try to implement new facets to your game, new techniques."

So bring it, but have fun with it.

FINIS