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

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

Hi gang,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FINIS

Finding out if your youngster has what it takes …

The Bruins' Tuukka Rask, doing what he does best.

Hi gang,

Apologies for being out of the loop these past few months, as I've been busy recuperating from getting a brand new titanium right hip (rehab is going well, and I hope to be back on the ice in early 2014!). In the meantime, with high school, college, and professional hockey seasons in full swing, I wanted to chat about a topic that's near and dear to my goaltending heart. Goalies require a certain mindset that, while it can be cultivated, is often innate. You simply have to hate – Hate! – giving up goals. Here's my column on the tenacity that goalies, by the very nature of their position, have to have to be successful. It originally ran in the New England Hockey Journal.

Finding out if your youngster has what it takes …

One of my favorite coaching sessions over the course of the season is Desperation Day. This is the day when we show our goalies how to make those impossible saves, the ones that top pros make with alarming regularity. Yes, there's a method to the apparent madness of a desperation save (more on that later), but in reality what the session ultimately reveals is whether or not the youngster has the heart and courage to be a top-flight netminder.

Just for fun, I typically start the session by asking my pupils if they know who Winston Churchill is. This little Q&A invariably winds up sounding like an installment of "Kids Say the Darnedest Things" ("He's a goalie, right?" is by far the most popular answer). But it was Churchill, the legendary prime minister of Great Britain, who rallied a nation against the threat of Nazi Germany on June 4, 1940, with his famous "We shall fight on the beaches" speech before the House of Commons. The line that has always stayed with me, the one I want my goaltenders to remember, is this: "We shall never surrender."

Now, I don't mean to make light of war, or place too much importance on sports. There are already too many pro athletes and high-profile sportscasters doing that these days. What I'm talking about is character, and the willingness to battle, to dig deep in order to expend every ounce of energy needed to do your job. In this case, that's keeping the puck out of the net, using any means necessary.

Here's the "team" lesson I want my young goaltenders to take home from Desperation Day: There is nothing desperate about effort. If you quit on a play – even an impossible play – that can deflate your teammates. Goalies, by the nature of the position, have to be leaders. If you don't give a full effort, then your teammates suddenly have an excuse to go less than 100 percent as well.

Simultaneously, giving up gives your opponents an extra boost, thinking you've thrown in the towel. Make no mistake about this – Quitting on a play is like tossing fresh chum into a pool of starving sharks. The feeding frenzy can be frightening.

Fortunately, the opposite is true. A lot of coaches and athletes talk about "giving 100 percent" (or more), but in reality that's quite rare. However, those who do have the ability to fire up their team. Imagine two scenarios. In the first, you dive across the crease and deflect a sure-fire goal over the net. You don't think that's going to get your teammates jacked up?

Or maybe the opponent misses the net altogether. Ask players, and those who answer honestly will tell you they'd rather see a nice, wide-open net to bury the shot. The last thing they want to see is a flash of goalie equipment, whether a stick, glove, blocker – anything! – flying into their field of vision. They might rush, or grip their sticks a little too tight, and send their shots wide or over the net. That doesn't even count as a save in the scorebook, although it sure does in my book. And it gets even better.

In a desperation-save situation, the shooter is expected to score. And most of the time, they probably will. But that's when something almost magical can happen. In this second scenario, if a goalie makes every effort to make the save, tossing aside personal pride and safety to fling across the open net, it almost doesn't matter if the opponent pots the puck. The goalie's team will still rally behind that effort. It's almost as if they say, "Heck, if our goalie is going to bring it, we better bring it too."

And, even as the opponents celebrate, the heroic goalie – the one who refuses to quit, ever – has planted a seed of doubt. He (or she) has served notice that nothing will come easy. And, believe me, the other team will see that. I've seen it again and again over the past 35 years. These types of goalies are winners, and they can will their teams to win.

So, is there a method? The short answer is, yes. Visual attachment is critical. If the goalie loses sight of the puck, the task becomes infinitely more difficult. A goalie caught out of position doesn't have the luxury of tracking the puck and "deciding" to make a move. In the time it takes to make that decision, the puck will be in the back of the net. Instead, the goalie must simply react. If he (or she) gets to the rebound, only to find there's no imminent danger, all he's expended is a small slice of energy. It's like the winter hiker's credo regarding gear: "Better to have it and not need it, instead of needing it and not having it." You have to go to the puck, with all the energy you can muster.

The key is getting your body to move with your eyes. Set that back edge by driving your knee to your chest, and push. Hard! When you go, built the wall from the ice up. A ridiculous number of goals are scored along the ice, so that's where you want your stick. Paddle down, creating a wall, not a ramp. Aim your goal stick toward the opposite post, so you have that added support if the puck happens to hit the paddle. Engage your core muscles, and bring your catching glove above the stick, just in case the puck gets lifted.

And, perhaps most importantly, remember that even if you make that highlight-reel save, your job still isn't done. You've got to track the rebound, and be ready for the next shot. That is, after all, our job description.

Last, bring it all the time. Effort comes from habit. If you quit in practice, there's no guarantee that you'll be able to pull off the effort required for a miraculous save in a game. It has to be part of your mindset, and that's honed in practice.

As an added bonus, I'll share this universal truth – Coaches love these kids. Even if they're not the most technically gifted, they'll get their share of playing time, because coaches know that they'll compete from whistle to whistle, and that they'll inspire their teammates. That is a special gift. It's not the sole domain of goaltenders, since every player can help raise the bar. But other players can quit on a play, and they still have the goaltender behind them. Goalies don't have that safety net. That's why, in my mind, the position is imbued with certain leadership qualities. And when you go all out, all the time, refusing to surrender, you've proven yourself to be a worthy team leader.

FINIS

Sometimes, the pads never quite fit

OK, so where exactly do I begin with this stance?!!

One of the greatest challenges of writing a blog, or a regular column, is keeping your voice fresh. It is, after all, your voice (or mine, in this instance), and slowly, over time, a dreaded predictability can creep into the writing. It's something that writers have to be constantly vigilant about, because, let's face, it, we love to hear ourselves talk. The past summer, I had a topic that I felt went far beyond the normal parameters of my monthly The Goalie Guru column for the New England Hockey Journal. So I asked my colleague and good friend, April "The Hockey Mom" Bowling, if we could switch columns for an issue.

It turned out to be something of a mixed blessing. My regular readers got a new voice - April is a superb columnist – with a fresh perspective. I, on the other hand, found out that one of my favorite pupil's – April's son Sam – was giving up the position. Not the sport, just goaltending. It was a bittersweet pill to swallow, because Sam was one of those rare youngsters who just seemed to thrive in the nets. He would keep smiling no matter how hard he worked, and he was a sponge, soaking up everything nugget of goaltending knowledge I could offer. He simply loved learning about the position, and the game. So it's with somewhat unresolved emotions that I present April's column. I wish her and her son nothing but success. But I'll miss him ...

Sometimes, the pads never quite fit 

This is probably the one and only time you'll ever catch my writing in Brion O'Connor's goaltending column. Why? Because I'm writing about the end of my son's goalie career. And he's only eight. After this, I can't imagine I'll have much to write about between the pipes.

For those of you who've read my Hockey Mom column in the past, you might already know the history. For everyone else, my then seven-year-old son, Sam, shocked us at the beginning of last season when he declared that he wanted to play in goal for his third season as a Mite.  

I guess it wasn't a huge shock. Sam had rotated through goal the previous year and seemed to like it, but no more than he did every other position on the ice. In fact, I was suspicious that it had more to do with wanting to avoid skating than it did with a true desire to tend the net. He’d been disappointed not to make the Mite 1 team and felt his skating skills were to blame. So being my son – instead of committing to work harder and get better – his first instinct was to hide from his weaknesses.

The apple, as they say, does not fall far from the tree. So in this case, it wound up between the pipes. We insisted that he continued to skate out, but he spent the majority of the first half of the season as goalie. He won. He lost. He made big saves. He let in some easy goals. He began going to Brion's goalie workouts, and he L-O-V-E-D every second of it.  

And I H-A-T-E-D it.

I hated watching him out there as the final backstop. When the team wins, there is at least one goal scorer to share the goalie's credit. When the team loses, it's hard for the goalie not to feel the greatest burden since every other player on the roster equally shares the failure to score enough goals to win. Can you tell I'm not a team-sports-kind-of-athlete?

But actually, I think this quote attributed to former NHL goalie, Arturs Irbe, sums up what I felt every time Sam went out there (even if he didn't feel it).

“The goalie is like the guy on the minefield. He discovers the mines and destroys them. If you make a mistake, somebody gets blown up.”

No pressure there! As an aside, after revealing this attitude, I'm thinking after he reads this column Brion would never LET me have his column space again even if I was still the mom of a goalie …

Despite the pressure – or maybe because of it – I started to take a curious pride in Sam's resiliency. I might be distraught over a loss, but he seemed to rebound pretty quickly. I might be overjoyed at a win, but he just shrugged it off. There is something so admirable to me about that kind of mental toughness that I began to be OK with the thought that maybe, just maybe, I was going to have to live with many more years of Sam behind the mask.

And then just as quickly he decided being in net wasn't his thing. And it was right after we bought goalie pads to boot.  

Another boy had been splitting time with Sam in goal and while he was skating out, Sam began scoring. A lot. Then he got moved from wing to center, which initially he hated for the defensive responsibility, but then began to relish for the opportunity to drive plays. He’s always loved to defend the puck and pass at the right moment … now his skating abilities had caught up with the plays he was devising in his head. Or at least close enough.

Sam also noticed something else. The boy he was splitting time with in net was a better goalie than he was and their team was winning more. "Maybe I'll just play back-up goalie," he said. And then, just like that, he never played goalie again.

I will concede the point that he is only eight, and still has another year of Mites. So maybe hell go back to goal at some point. But I have a mother's hunch that it won't happen. He was hiding in goal, as odd as that seems to those of us who would avoid that spotlight like the plague. But Sam would rather bear the brunt of isolation than become what he perceived to be a liability to his team. As soon as he was able to practice enough to do what he really wanted to and be good at it, he skated right out of the net.

Of course, part of me is oddly disappointed. And so is Sam, if only because he won't get to hang out with his beloved Coach O'Connor as much anymore.

But just like Sam going in goal wasn't my choice to make, Sam leaving it isn't my choice either. In fact, I haven't even weighed in on either decision. (OK … maybe I did ask him if he was REALLY sure before I bought those pads. Ahem.)

I see my place as a Hockey Mom as supporting Sam's choices. Sometimes that's just a quiet drive after a tough loss. Sometimes it's seeking out the right coach or camp. Sometimes it's offering advice when it's asked for, or maybe even when it isn’t. But Sam's decisions in hockey, just like they someday will be in life, are his alone to make. Ultimately, his mom is just along for the ride.

So while we may meet again, for now I'll say goodbye to my favorite Goalie. OK, Brion, now you can have your column back.

FINIS

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

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

Hi gang,

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

Please, coaches, keep practice shots within reason

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FINIS

Teamwork is crucial for every player, goalies included

All for one, and one for all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FINIS

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

Commitment is not just for kids anymore ...

Devils goalie Martin Brodeur celebrates
with his son Anthony, then 5, after
winning the Stanley Cup in 1995

Hey everyone,

Having just finished up a phenomenal week of coaching at Brian Daccord's Prospects Camp with the Goaltending Consultant Group at Merrimack College, I was reminded that top-flight goaltenders needs help and support along the way if they're going to get the most out of their natural talents. Which reminded me of this column, originally written for the New England Hockey Journal. Let me know what you think ...

Do you have the commitment to allow your child to play goal?

A few years back, I paid a visit to my sister in New Hampshire, because she and her clan build a first-rate home rink in the winter, and I absolutely love playing a little shinny there with my daughters, nieces, nephews, and their friends. On this particular evening, my nephews had a new friend join us, and the kid was absolutely all over the ice. He never strayed far from the goal, but nothing got by him. He used anything and everything – stick, body, arms, legs – to stop the puck.

During a break in the action, I asked my nephew Luke about this kid, who I'll call "Joey" (to protect his parents). Luke tells me that Joey is an only child, and absolutely lives to play goalie, which of course gets my attention. For Joey, "hockey" means street hockey. He plays every single day after school, and almost all day on the weekends.

Luke introduced us, telling Joey that I coach "real" goalies. The kid's eyes just lit up. He started in on all the goaltending books he has, and his favorite goalies, from Martin Brodeur and Henrik Lundqyist to Tuukka Rask. He didn't have a favorite team – "I've got 10 genuine NHL jerseys" – but he had plenty of spunk. It was impossible not to like the kid right from the get-go.

As the game is winding down, a big pearl-white Cadillac Escalade pulled up to the curb by the rink. It's Joey's mom. When she stepped out, I told her that Joey was quite the young goaltender, and asked if he's planning to play anywhere.

"You mean a real team? Oh, god, no," she replied. "What a pain. Who needs that?"

The next few seconds can only be described as awkward. Joey's mom had this plastic smile stuck on her face, and my response was stuck in my throat. "You're kidding, right?" I finally blurted out.

The woman looked back at me like I slashed her tires. "I mean, all that driving around to practices and games, that's a big commitment for my husband and me," she said. "And then there's all that stinky equipment … "

"Seriously?" I replied, now dumbfounded. I almost added: "Then why bother having kids?" But I managed to restrain myself. After all, I don't have to live in the neighborhood. Plus, it's really none of my business. Later, though, while gabbing with my sister in her kitchen, I couldn't shake my brief encounter with Joey's mom.

"A big commitment," I told my sis. "Really? Isn't having a child a big commitment?"

Goalie coaches ask kids to make commitments all the time. We do it because, in our hearts, we truly believe that the kids who make the requisite effort get the most out of whatever God-given talents they have, and they get the most out of this game. And this game teaches a number of essential life lessons that you simply won't find in a classroom.

Now, I'm asking parents to do the same. If your children have a passion for something, you ought to let those kids pursue that passion. At the very least, give them the opportunity.

My mom was remarkable in this regard. She was widowed just before I started 8^th grade, and she had six of us to look after. I wanted to be a hockey goalie. Street hockey was just the start. Ice hockey was my dream. Fortunately, a few of my brothers had the same dream. Mom looked around, and said: "Fine. You get the equipment, and I'll get you to the rink."

That's what we did. I got a paper route, and made enough coin in a few months to buy a new set of "Made in Canada" goalie gear (which, admittedly, was considerably cheaper to buy in the early 1970s). Mom never failed to keep up her end of the bargain, shuttling us all over New Jersey's Bergen County to our practices and games. We started networking with other families – seemed like everyone had a huge Ford LTD wagon in those days – to form car pools, and give mom an occasional night off.

Today, my wife and I have two teenage daughters. I'm really lucky in that my bride shares my opinion that sports are vital to a child's development. She's a Midwest gal, and grew up playing basketball and volleyball. She also was a competitive swimmer. So she knows a thing or two about sacrifice, both as an athlete and as a parent of an athlete.

Our youngest daughter – our hockey player – also happens to be nuts about horses. I mean, over-the-top crazy. I know very little about horses except this – they're ridiculously expensive. Still, my wife and I understand how important they are to Brynne. This is, after all, the same child who once asked me to take her to a local stable so she could get a job in exchange for riding lessons. She was 6.

"Oh child," I remember telling her seven years ago. "If it means that much to you, then mom and dad will make it work." And we have. Brynne doesn't ride as much as she'd like, but she rides enough to keep her happy (while the family remains financially solvent). It's required some sacrifice, but the smile on Brynne's face when she is spending time in the saddle makes any "sacrifice" seem small. I like to think that my mom felt the same way when she watched us playing hockey.

So now you've got a youngster telling you that he or she wants to play goal. First, make sure they're serious. You owe it to yourself, and you owe it to your child. This was the genius of my mom's response to her boys, those many years ago. If my brothers and I didn't want it bad enough, we wouldn't have found a way to buy our own gear, and mom would have been off the hook.

But if your child sticks with it, then you've got to go all in. It can be expensive, and it can be time-consuming, especially if you get additional coaching. Make the extra effort to get your child to the rink on time for the practice as well as the games. Learn how their gear goes on; help them when they're young, encourage them to do it on their own. Trust me, your child won't ever forget, and it will be one of the most rewarding experiences you'll ever have.

FINIS