Youth sports don’t sound like they would be hard, right? When I signed my oldest son up for t-ball when we was three and half years old, it was so easy. We signed him up, took him to the meeting, got a uniform and we were set to go. We took him to the practices and the games, giggled at how cute he and his little friends were, and went home. There were also a few times when he decided to simply walk off the field and sit on the bench because apparently that was not the most exciting sport for him. In fact, he hated it.
When we signed him up for hockey, we assumed the same thing would happen. Here we are six years later and there are no signs of stopping. Both of my boys are now completely, head over heals in love with hockey. We jumped in the deep end a few years ago when the oldest decided to play competitive travel hockey. If you are not familiar, that is a cost commitment of about $10,000 per year and an incredible time commitment. I know right now you are thinking, this woman is insane. Absolutely off her rocker. You are not wrong.
Each year he has to try out for the next team or age group. Every year we have been confident in him and his work ethic and have not been terribly concerned about if he was going to make a team. Every year we gained more amazing hockey family members and he gained new teammates and friends. There has always been this unspoken belief that the kids we have grown to love would continue to play together until individually they decided it was no longer for them or they aged out. Well, you know what happens when you assume things, right?
This last weekend was tryout weekend. Our sweet little 9 and 10 year old little boys went out there and gave it their all. They played with heart, with passion, with everything that they have been taught for the last 6 years. On a typical tryout weekend in our little hockey town, there would be about 35 kids trying out for 30-34 spots. Almost everyone makes a team and our hockey family has been pretty much unscathed for the last couple of years. This year though, it was different. With the recent addition of the new NHL team, everyone wants to play hockey. That sounds like a good thing though, right? Sure, for that kid just learning to love the sport and the game, it is an amazing thing. But when 50 or 60 kids come out for those same 30-34 spots on a team, there will be a lot of disappointed kids at the end of the weekend.
Our town is still small, so there is only one option at this level of play. If you don’t make this team, you don’t have another team you can go to. It’s not soccer where there are probably 50 different programs in town and if you don’t make this team, you can go on to the next program and tryout. There are only so many sheets of ice in the desert to play hockey on and the NHL team has restricted them from offering any other programs while they build interest in youth hockey in our town. So this weekend, an excited group of 100 or so parents, siblings and players stood outside of the coaches room waiting anxoiusly for that piece of paper with the chosen few to be posted. Everyone there was very nervous and a little excited. We waited for what felt like hours (it was really only about 30 minutes) nervously chatting and in some cases being driven to drink. I mean quite literally, they were smart and put a bar in at the rink.
And then it came. Parents and kids raced to get up close to see that paper. And then it happened. The day the experienced hockey parents assumed would come someday, but we failed to realize would come so soon. Our hockey family felt like it was being ripped apart as we realized that there were names missing. That had to be it right? The names were just missing. Somehow they forgot that name. Others seemed to be on the wrong list for the wrong team. Then the tears started. You would think from the kids, but that is not where it started. It started with the parents and in many cases not the parents of the kids that did not make it. In fact, in most cases it was the parents of the kids that did make it. I was one of them. My son’s hockey team had been torn apart. Our hockey family forever changed.
We stood there watching 10 year old boys who had given it everything they had sit on dad’s lap and cry, broken hearted. You saw boys gather around to tell those kids it would be ok, “there must be some mistake” one of them said. It took time for it to sink in and when it did, there were tears all around. My son made the team, but I couldn’t find it in myself to be happy or excited. It was like a car crash.
And then a very sudden and intense realization struck. Next year, it will probably happen again, and you may be on the other side, holding your son and comforting him through his pain of having something he loves so much and works so hard for torn away. While you hope your hockey family gets bigger each year, for now, it just felt like it got so much smaller in such a painful way. The heartbreak was real and all encompassing. It caused 10 year old boys to be completely speechless. If you know 10 year old boys, they are never speechless.
At the end of the day, what we all needed was family. Our hockey family. It’s a different beast. It has the power, like any family, to make you absolutely crazy, but also to heal you. All it takes is one parent saying, everyone is welcome, and you will find comfort in whatever that day has brought, be it a team made up of different players or a tough tournament loss. That opportunity for the parents to commiserate and the kids to play and run off the shock is always what we need.
In the end, we will all be fine, but for this weekend, the heartbreak of hockey was real and when it was just my boys, they found comfort in each other and a way to face another season and all the changes that will come with it.
