Hockey Grandparents (ii)

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AS PLAYERS, THE BOYS AND GIRLS on our grandson's hockey team have blossomed over the years. When they were five years-old we'd take newspapers and books along to the games. As we read about major government changes, and the rise and fall of financial markets, little players wearing Timbit hockey sweaters skated from one end of the rink to the other on wobbly legs.

Now that they're in Atom league, the players skate faster and shoot harder. It's exciting to watch their skills improve. A bit taller and a little more hockey wise, they are more coordinated, more focussed, and really playing well. We've even noticed that the individual need to be the star of the game has dwindled and the concept of the collective--team play--has taken over.

There is hockey where ever we go: We watch kids play shinny in driveways, on frozen ponds, and on quiet streets. On Saturday afternoons they get together and raise funds packing groceries in malls.

I watch them now as I write this, behind the glass at the rink; I see them, out of breath, listening to the coach's instructions in preparation for today's big game against the best in the league. One of the players is unable to stifle a giggle as another player drops to the ice to do push-ups. The coach has expectations and the kids learn that this is payback for infraction. They know they have to do their best and be their best if they plan to continue playing the game of hockey.

As grandparents, my husband and I simply want our grandson to have fun. Part of the joy of childhood is a sense of play, but it is also important for kids to learn to take responsibility for their actions. There are rules to be  followed. On the flipside, as they come off the ice, we watch players get encouraging pats on their heads. As a team, they share in the joy of victory, the agony of defeat.

We're dressed for the chill of the arena: warm toques on my greying hair and his balding head; we carry fleece blankets to drape over our laps and insulated pillows to keep our backsides off the cold bleachers.

The puck drops, the game begins.

As play progresses, it's evident our team is having problems getting the puck to the net, but the boisterous crowd spurs us on. At first, we are the underdogs, but soon the team rises to the challenge; our boys and girls pass, stick-handle, and skate like a cohesive team and before we know it, the score is tied. With only seconds to go, there's a scramble in front of the opposing net and my grandson bangs in the winning goal. The players pile on top of him as though he's just scored the winning goal in Game 7 of the Stanley Cup playoffs. Spectators scream their support, and in his excitement, the coach hollers, "I'm taking everyone out for pizza!"

The collective excitement of the players, the coaching staff, and the spectators is infectious. I find myself laughing along.

edited by Valerie Bean