The Hockey Life: Accepting risks

When you work in the newspaper industry, bad news is part of the drill. A young father gets killed in Afghanistan. A motorcycle wreck claims yet another life. The cruel abuse animals. Day after day, unfortunately, it goes on.

Over time, it's easy to become desensitized by the news. Unfortunately, these events, the tragedies you know rip apart others lives, mean very little. They're just another headline to write, another story to edit and, yes, another deadline to make. That's one of the things I dislike about my profession.

Last week, we had another tragedy to report. A 12-year-old boy, driving a race car at a central Florida track, hit the wall hard. His injuries were severe. Rescue personnel had to cut him out of the car. A few days later, this young warrior died of his injuries.

To the racing community, his death served as a reminder of the dangers inherent to the sport of racing. Still, some parents said, it wouldn't stop them from letting their child get behind the wheel for another race this weekend. Doing so, they reasoned, would honor the boy's memory.

To me, this sad, sad story of death was different. It hit home. It just wasn't a headline to write. Nor was it simply another story to edit. And, really, I didn't give a rat's ass about deadlines.

For parents, losing a child, no matter the age or circumstances, is the absolute worst nightmare.

When Colin started playing hockey, I knew he would face certain risks within playing the game. Hockey is a physical sport. From bumps and bruises to cheap-shot hits from behind, there's a certain amount of risk associated with the game.

Every year, it seems, bad news of serious injuries breaks. Players get cut by razor-sharp skate blades. Bad hits, intentional or otherwise, paralyze others. A frozen puck, in an ill-timed moment of misfortune, stops a heart. Yes, hockey is that dangerous.

That's one of the reasons hockey parents spend as much money as they do on equipment. In our case, we've paid more for Colin's latest helmet than his skates. You'd find two, not just one, neck guards in his hockey bag. He has been taught, too, that it's better to turtle -- and skate another shift -- than it is to take a nasty hit head-on.

Yes, I suppose it would be easier, and likely far smarter, to eliminate these risks. I'm sure there's just as much satisfaction to be gained through playing less-risky sports or participating in safer activities. I'll admit, sleep was a little hard to come by this past week as I wrestled with this question.

As hockey parents, we have to accept these risks, albeit sometimes hesitantly, every time we send our child out onto the ice. It doesn't matter if it's a practice, stick-and-shoot or travel-team league game. All it takes is a heartbeat for the world to spin 180 degrees. Living with that possibility is a fact of life, not just the hockey life.

To me, the benefits Colin gains through playing hockey outweigh the risks of what could happen. He has learned the value of teamwork and setting goals. Losses have taught him what it takes to win. And, if he's lucky, he'll realize the reward for his hard work. These aren't just hockey lessons, either.

If you think about it, we face risks every day we climb out of bed. Riding a bicycle is dangerous. So is walking across a street. And, like that 12-year-old boy, there's no guarantee we'll arrive at our destination any time we get behind a wheel. Does that keep us from living our lives? No.

Though I seldom set foot in a church, I do believe in God. Through personal experiences, gained from reckless days more than 25 years ago, I also believe in guardian angels. That's why I ask them all to watch over Colin, not just in hockey, but in everything he does.

Knock on wood, my prayers, for Colin as well as others, will continue to be answered.

Here's my pick

I'm thinking the New Jersey Devils will capture Lord Stanley's cup in six games. Experience, as in Marty Brodeur, will be the difference.

If I'm wrong, I'm sure Colin, who says the Los Angeles Kings are his favorite Western Conference team, will be happy.

Making it official

Before last Christmas, I told Colin that he could get a new Lightning jersey personalized with a player's name and number. Rather than Steven Stamkos, Marty St. Louis, Vinny Lecavalier or Victor Hedman, Colin said he wanted one of Adam Hall. Given that both are grinders -- players who place as much emphasis on defense as offense -- it made perfect sense to me.

Earlier tonight, during a break from playing street hockey, Colin had Hall sign his Lightning  #18 jersey for him during the Lightning Summer Tour stop in Pinellas Park. Now that it's signed, it's unlikely it'll see any more practices. Skating sessions and Lightning games, however, will be just fine.

The Hockey Life: He'll have to wait

There are moments in life, no matter your age, when opportunities present themselves.  These guideposts, if you will, often determine, for good or for bad, the path we follow. It's up to us to make the best of them.

At the tender age of 11, Colin was supposed to face one of his first this afternoon.

A few weeks ago, he was invited to take part in a tryout for a AAA-level hockey team. Last week, though, we received word it was canceled. It represented a big step, for sure, as he has only two seasons of travel hockey, playing at the A level, under his belt. Still, he would've taken to the ice. It's better to try and fail than not to try at all.

Before we heard the bad news, we had spoken quite often about the opportunity. The positives were plenty -- skating with and against more talented players and getting on the "radars" of people who may open doors down the road. Conversely, there were some downsides, namely that the cost would have likely been far too prohibitive for us. Bottom line, though, is the benefits would have outweighed the drawbacks, even if it meant working more than the 60 hours I already put in every week.

The main point I kept repeating is that I wouldn't have sent him out there if I thought he'd embarrass himself. We know there's plenty of room of improvement within his stickhandling and, to an extent, his shooting. His skating abilities wouldn't have been a problem, nor should have his hockey sense though, at times, I do wonder..

His greatest strength, I kept telling him, is his intensity. Though I've said this before, we're raising a hockey player, not a goal scorer. When he's on, Colin's game is all about being a pest through forechecking, backchecking and trying to be the first on the puck. From what I've been told, and this includes NHL coaches, all teams love to have this type of player.

Opportunities arise when he plays that way. Stealing a puck often leads to a breakaway and, hopefully, a solid scoring chance for himself or a teammate. Intercepting a pass does, too. A hassled opponent, in a fit of frustration, will take a penalty. And, lately, I've been seeing the light bulbs of rewards for his hard work go off over his head.

We know there are people, as well as other players, who question Colin's abilities. I compare these people to nothing more than bullies at school. They do and say things for one of two reasons: to make themselves feel better about their lives or to try to bring him down to their levels. Rather than shrink away, though, I've encouraged him to use his detractors, as he has before, as a source of motivation.

The biggest question, though, is this: Would he have made the team?

To be honest, I doubt it. Too much work remains, as does showing an improvement in his game each and every time he steps on the ice. Then again, who's to know? It would have been up to him to do his best to make as difficult a decision as he could for the coaching staff. All I ever ask of him is to try his hardest and play to the best of his abilities. If he does that, be it in hockey or life, he'll do fine.

Really, there's no reason to be disappointed by the cancellation. To be invited, after playing for a relatively short time, is a positive step. In a way, the tryout would have served as a litmus test. If he had made the cut, then he would've known he was among the area's best. If he hadn't, then he would've seen what it takes to reach that level. To me, there's something positive in each outcome.

The way we look at it, there will always be more tryouts. After all, he's only 11.

Thanks, Miss Joanie

For the past five years, Miss Joanie, the crossing guard at Colin's school, has been a part of our life. At first, she was the person responsible for safe passage across the street when school let out for the day. In time, though, the bond has grown strong, all thanks to hockey.

Our first bond came as the result that she, like Colin, was born in Massachusetts, so we could talk about Boston and its surrounding communities. What really sealed the deal was that she was a hockey fan. She was a hockey grandmother, sharing stories of watching her grandson play.

She told me, too, that her husband had volunteered his time to coach a hockey team here in the Tampa Bay area. When I asked her what team, her response surprised me. Not only did her husband once coach a Tampa Bay Jr. Lightning squad, but that's also the organization her grandson, just like Colin does today, played for when he was younger.

Small world, eh?

During hockey seasons, Miss Joanie always asked how Colin was doing in hockey and repeatedly offered her encouragement before a big game or tryout. When she and her husband attended one of his games, you could see the memories come flooding back.

Miss Joanie pulled me aside the other day. She asked if Colin would be interested in a display case of pucks from all 30 NHL teams. I couldn't say "yes" quick enough and, if he wasn't, I certainly would be. As you can clearly see, Colin was interested and more than happy to accept her offer.

With the end of the school year rapidly approaching and Colin moving to a new school in a different part of the city, the remaining days, and especially June 7 (the last day of school), could be sad. Though we'll exchange phone numbers and invite Miss Joanie to Colin's games, we know that our daily greetings are nearing an end.

In the meantime, I'm going to ask Colin what he would like to do with it. Do we keep it as it is or does it become our primary hounding project in the years ahead? As nice as it looks now, imagine getting a star player or captain, past or present, from each team to sign a puck? Either way, I'll let him decide.

One thing's for certain, though, we'll think of Miss Joanie every time we see it.

The Hockey Life: My Hockey Mom

Editor's note: Beyond scoring a pair of goals for her earlier today, Colin is writing today's installment of The Hockey Life for his Mama.

Of all the reasons I love my Mama, there are three that are a part of my hockey.

~ The first reason is that she always gets me where I need to be. It doesn't matter if I'm late or not, she always gets me there. Some rides are short and some are long. Sometimes, we hit traffic. Sometimes we don't. I just know that she'll always get me to the rink.

~ The second reason is that she always helps me tie my skates. Or maybe I should say she ties my skates. Doesn't matter if it's a practice or a game, she always ties them just the way I like them, too.

~ The third reason is that she is always there to support me. From finding my neck guards to packing my hockey bag to reminding me about my mouthpiece, she is always there to help and support me.

More than anything else, I love that my Mama is a hockey mom. Hockey moms are the best.

Birthday surprises

It's no secret that the Boston Bruins' Patrice Bergeron is Colin's favorite NHL player. That fact has been chronicled many, many times. What was a secret, though, was that three game-used sticks were headed Colin's way.

I'd heard a few days ago that "Uncle Johnny" up in New Hampshire was sending Colin a hat trick of sticks for his birthday. Well, the package arrived Thursday afternoon. And once Colin finished his shooting practice (10 rounds of 17 pucks each), he was able to see what the odd-shaped box contained.

Needless to say, but I'm doing it anyways, Colin was pretty psyched when he saw what was within. Not only was there a stick from Bergeron's NHL rookie season, shown above, but the package also contained this signed stick:

  

Bergeron used this stick, which he verified within his autograph, against the Ottawa Senators
on Nov. 11, 2006, at the TD Banknorth Garden in Boston. 

All three of the stick blades. Note, too, that the top stick, from the 2003-04 NHL season,

is all wood, not made of composite materials

All three sticks, as Lisa noted, are different in height, an adjustment Bergeron made during his career.

The unsigned stick, shown on the far left, was broken, but repaired nicely by "Uncle Johnny."

Colin now has four game-used Bergeron sticks, with three being signed. His first one, a Christmas present in 2005, is a pretty funny story.

The bottom photo shows Bergeron's name imprinted on the shaft of each stick.

The Hockey Life: Being honest

When it comes to your kids, it's easy to brag. Be it academics, athletics or whatever, praising your child's accomplishments is one of the rights that parents have earned. At least, that's what I tell myself every time I sing Colin's praises.

Between this blog, Facebook and my Twitter feed, I'd dare say that 80 percent of my posts, updates and tweets are about Colin. Of those, nearly all portray him in positive light. And, honestly, that's to be expected. It makes me feel good about myself when sharing good news.

I like to think, though, it's also part of my responsibility, as a parent, to add balance. Call it reality, if you will, but to always share the successes, without balancing the books with setbacks and losses, is the purest form of self-centered spin control. And, honestly, it's pretty easy to get into the habit.

Really, it could be the journalist in me, making an attempt, albeit a weak one, to maintain objectivity. While I love to share his successes, I know that this isn't a perfect world. Like anyone else, all children, and not just Colin, have good days and, yes, bad days. Who doesn't? I know I do.

Take this morning, for example.

Today marked the start of a new Tampa Bay Metro League recreational hockey season, with Colin rejoining the Pinellas Police Athletic League Stars team. Though we considered taking off the two spring seasons, as Colin had played some form of hockey for more than two years straight, he talked me into letting him play.

While he appreciated the skills gained in practices and opportunities provided in scrimmages, he missed the thrill of playing in games that count. There's a big difference, he told me, between winning, losing and simply having ice time.

As a hockey dad, that was music to my ears.

We signed him up, on the condition that he would take this season, even if it was in a recreational league, as serious as any travel-team league. And, given his time off, he clearly understood his responsibility to play each game like he was shot out of a cannon, going as hard as he could for each and every shift.

Sure, playing hockey is all about having fun. It's just that winning and scoring, and getting better with every game, makes it much more so.

In this dose of reality, let's just say with crystal-clear honesty, that there remains plenty of room for improvement in Colin's game. In the first period, he played as though he was shot out of a squirt gun. Sure, he skated, but he seldom engaged. In hockey, that's not a good thing. You twirl around at public skates, not in games.

To his credit, after a bit of encouragement, he picked up his effort through the rest of the game. He skated smarter, not just harder, and became more engaged. He even scored a goal, burying a wrist shot through the goalie's five-hole from 25 feet out. Still, it wasn't enough, as the Stars lost, 7-3.

After the game, as he was taking off his gear in the locker room, he expected getting an earful on the ride home. He knew he should have crashed more hands, rather than biting on a dangled puck. His passes, one in particular, could have been sharper.

That cannon? well, I didn't even have to bring it up.

I surprised him, though, when I told him he wouldn't be getting the "lecture." I could tell, just by the tone by his voice and his long, puppy-dog face, he knew it wasn't his strongest effort. Even though I ride him hard, the last thing I wanted to do was pile on. After all, it was his first game in two months.

Instead, I told him on the ride home that he likely played himself out of an important tryout coming up in a couple of weeks. It was nice that he scored, but if that was his best effort, there's no way I'd send him out onto that ice. I didn't, however, close the door. He has two more games to show me that he's ready to see if he can hang with the best 2001 birth-year players in the Tampa Bay area.

If he picks up his game, and I'm hoping he will, he'll earn that chance. After all, it's up to him, no matter how much I try to spin it.

Worked like a charm

Colin was playing street hockey last night at the Lightning Radio Show when this girl about his age started getting chippy, cross-checking and slashing him, because he had taken the ball from her a couple of times.

After about the third time of getting whacked, he looked at me with a "What should I do?" look.

I told him he was doing just fine and not to retaliate. Then, loud enough to draw most everyone's attention,  I said: "She's just letting you know she likes you."

He didn't have any issues after that.

The Hockey Life: Sunday mornings

I'm writing live this morning, as it might be the last time I can for a few months. Now, don't worry. Nothing is wrong. It's just that after our most recent respite, it's time to get back to what had become our normal Sunday morning routine.

Beginning next Sunday, at 11:30  a.m. to be exact, our mornings will, once again, belong to hockey. Taking a break after his travel team season, Colin will return to his roots, rejoining the lineup of the Pinellas Police Athletic League Stars for the Tampa Bay Metro League's spring recreational season.

As every hockey parent knows, game mornings are a bit of a process. It's setting the alarm clock to allow for a road trip, ranging from 20 minutes to two hours. It's making sure the hockey bag is packed and nothing, especially a mouthpiece or neck guard, is forgotten. It's being grateful, too, for an everything bagel with cream cheese and a travel cup of coffee.

For the past two months, give or take a few days, our Sunday mornings have been different. A lot different. Breakfast meant pancakes or french toast, scrambled eggs or omelets, bacon or sausage and, just this morning,  fruit cups. It also meant two cups of coffee, out of a diner-style mug. And, I had time to read the Sunday paper, not just the sports section.

Make no mistake, I'm not complaining. Like Colin, I was missing the drill, as well as the thrills, of game days. After more than two years of Colin playing in some form of a season, Sunday mornings became part of the routine and, honestly, something to look forward to. Conversely, a relaxing Sunday morning at home, much less rare than it once was, is something to treasure, too.

Returning to the P.A.L. program is what we're looking forward to the most. From his first days in the program, we've felt like a part of the Stars family. Through wins and losses, including a painful lesson a few years ago, there's more to this program than playing hockey.

To this day, Colin is known as "Mini Man," a nickname bestowed upon him by the head coach's son. We've attended the team's holiday party, despite Colin playing for another team. One drill within Colin's weekly skating sessions are called "Coach Dons," after an instructor at P.A.L.'s summer hockey camp. It wasn't uncommon for us, either, to attend P.A.L. games, even if Colin wasn't playing.

Colin even knows Miss Julie's disdain for a certain furry rodent, meaning he seldom hesitates to remind her about it. And now, upon news of a particular birthday present, he can't wait to see her.

By no means is this a knock against any other program or coach, but it's different with the Stars. There's a certain sense of comfort that comes with the program. I guess that's why it'll be easy to get back into the game-day routine. The next chapter starts a week from today.

Happy birthday, buddy boy

Sitting above my home desk, viewable with the slightest glance up, are two images that provide all of the inspiration I'll ever need. When life gets frustrating or I'm feeling particularly lazy, all it takes is a single look and life immediately pops into crystal-clear perspective. Colin, of course, is featured prominently in both.

One of the images, shown above, was taken at Ristuccia Arena, the Boston Bruins practice facility, sometime during the 2003-04 NHL season. We were occasional visitors to the team's open practices, with Colin being the recipient of many ice-cold pucks from Bruins players. Those visits, I believe, planted the seeds of our hockey adventure. 

The other image is this mock front page from the Boston Herald (my employer at the time), commemorating his birth. I'd waited a few months to create the page, wanting to capture the first few months of his life in photographs to use as pieces of art.

Beyond the main photo (another one of my all-time favorites), I get the biggest kick out of the main headline. I must admit, it isn't mine. It came from a Herald colleague, who used it for the newsroom announcement. It was simply too good to pass up.

I'm getting nostalgic today because it's Colin's 11th birthday.  Right now, we're getting ready for his party at a mall rink and then we'll catch a movie. We'll cap his day attending a Tampa Bay Rowdies soccer game.

As a daddy, all I can say is just how quickly the days have passed. It doesn't seem all that long ago that he was just a toddler, looking up at me with his curious eyes, bouncing on my knee, as NHL players went through practice less than 50 feet away.

These days, we're both wrestling a bit with his transition from a little boy to a 'tween. As much as I'd like for him to stay a "little boy," and I get the sense that feeling is mutual, I'm noticing he's growing more mature every day. I know, too, that his teenage years, and all that can entail, await.

That's why, as his father, I've spent a lot of time building a bond with him over hockey. As you can see, it's been a part of his life since his first days. From watching those Bruins practices to us playing hockey in the basement to his turn as a Lightning Dream Kid this past season, our favorite sport has been the common denominator for many shared memories.

We wouldn't have it any other way.

With any luck, and we know it will take a ton of that and skill, Colin will find himself living out his dream. As a daddy, I'm sure my eyes will fill with tears of joy should that ever happen. If it doesn't, it won't be for the lack of trying. As his father, though, I can only hope he shares our love of hockey with his children.

All things considered, I'll be proud of either accomplishment. No matter his age, he'll always be my little boy.

And, really, I wouldn't have it any other way.

The Missus' reward

As I started to share the final 2011-12 hounding adventures, searching through photo folders, I stumbled across an impromptu trip we made in February to score a few autographs from Tampa Bay's Ryan Shannon.

It wasn't so much we that absolutely, positively needed to add him to the collection. No, it was more that he's one of The Missus' favorite NHL players. If memory serves correct, she muttered something about "dreamy eyes."

Given how much she has put up with our hockey adventures, from hounding to two-hour road trips to watch Colin play, it was an easy call to make the ride to Tampa (in rush-hour traffic, mind you) so she could meet Shannon at a public appearance.

Of course, we didn't go over empty-handed:

Pretty nice signature on the puck, don't you think?

We even had a few cards for him.

Colin even wore his Ryan Shannon Portland Pirates practice jersey.

Shannon, who got quite the kick out of seeing it, had signed it before.

Freebies rock

Colin scored more than autographs from Tampa Bay's Marty St. Louis and Dwayne Roloson at last Wednesday's Lightning radio show in Tarpon Springs. He also walked away, at night's end, with these pucks from the recent NCAA Frozen Four championships held at the Tampa Bay Times Forum in Tampa.

Of course, we'll put them to good use. In time, we're hoping that the New York Rangers' Chris Kreider, Florida's Nick Bjugstad and, maybe, Carolina's Jeremy Welsh.

Seeing that souvenir stands were charging $10 to $12 for these pucks during the championships, we'll take as many as we can get.

Much better

Well, that didn't take long. I like this look far better than the experiment of the past few days. Much more traditional, too. Thanks, Brett.

Early birthday present

Now that we're a couple of years into Colin's hockey, he fully understands that Christmases and birthdays will often mean hockey gear as presents. With his 11th birthday coming up Saturday, it was the perfect time to put this concept to work.

At first, we thought we had ordered a pair through one hockey shop. But when a call to check on the status led to us hearing there was no record of them being ordered, we put the kibosh on that. All it took was one phone call to another shop to find a pair -- in stock.

Even though we considered a new pair of Bauer Vapor X 5.0 or 4.0 skates, our pest-in-training ended up picking the new Bauer Supreme One.6 model, shown at left, for his latest set of wheels. His beat-up Bauer Supreme One100s lasted him 13 months.

He'll take his skates out for a spin later today, at TBSA Countryside during his weekly skating session, as he starts breaking them in before his first Tampa Bay Metro League game on May 6. Of course, we'll bring the old pair, just in case.

It took him two hours Wednesday, but he said the skates are now broken in.
Lots of skating backwards and working the edges.

On my Timeline

I imagine many of you are members of Facebook. Among you, I'd dare say many have converted, or have been converted, to the site's Timeline profile. I did, about two months ago. 

This is my so-called "cover" photo. I just love his stance. Looks ready to go, doesn't he?

It was taken Jan. 17 by Tampa Bay Times photographer Dirk Shadd, when Colin served as the Lightning Dream Kid before Tampa Bay's game against the Boston Bruins.

Not all that many

Some day, and hopefully it'll be sooner rather than later, I'll get around to filing Hockey haul posts from our late-season hockey-hounding adventures. Until then, this group portrait, so to speak, will have to work.

Expect reports, in this order, about the Bruins, Lightning, Blues, Oilers, Islanders and the NCAA Frozen Four.

Notice anything new?

So, what do you think of this new look. Is it easier to read? Or do you like the old template, which I likened to the flat black of a puck, better? Does it even matter? Let me know.

Uh, excuse me?

So, I get up from my recliner for a few minutes ...

... and this is what happens.

Like one friend commented at Facebook: "Move your feet, lose your seat."

The Hockey Life: Glory days

Even though it's about three months away, I'm starting to get jacked up about a road trip back home to western New York. More than catching up with family and friends, attending my hometown of Machias' Community Day or my family's 70th annual reunion, there's one event I can't wait to take place.

One morning during our visit, a father and son (yes, that'll be us) will take a drive to the nearby city of Arcade. Tucked away in the back of the city's park is a street hockey rink. Actually, I think it's called a deck hockey rink. Either way, it'll be our destination.

More than 35 years ago, as a member of the Machias Norsemen, that rink is where I first played any form of organized hockey. It represented a major step up from the tennis courts and paved driveways where I had "played" before. And it was long before any steel blade roughed up any ice, be it a sheet, swamp, lake, pond or cornfield puddle.

At best, playing defense or wing, I like to think I held my own. Did my best to keep our crease open. Had an halfway decent slap shot (which I foolishly nicknamed "The Howitzer"), provided I had time for a huge wind-up, and I certainly wasn't afraid of any contact or, when opportunities presented themselves, getting into a scrap or two (scars on knuckles are proof). If memory serves, one or two even occurred post-game in the parking lot.

I've invited one of my old teammates, Jerry (my best friend growing up) to join us. I also plan on reaching out to a few others, too. Hopefully, it'll be a family-style gathering within a reunion-filled weekend. We're all around 50 years old now, give or take a few years, so this could be one of our last times together as a group.

The point of the visit, though, won't simply be to recall those days. Instead, it'll be to share a few moments in that rink shooting and passing, as well as reminiscing, with Colin. Given my girth and balky hips (still hurting from last week's escapades), I haven't been able to spend much time on the ice with Colin. And, as his dad, that bothers me.

This trip, though, will change that. To me, it'll be one of my favorite stops along the journey.