Tag Archives: hockey

Teammates and Covid-19, I think

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Living in the age of COVID-19 or the Corona Virus or 21st century global health pandemic has certainly provided the majority of us a new perspective on the importance of our health, individually and collectively, to our everyday lives. The occurrences we register as the mundane or dull happenings of everyday life have been drastically altered, for some a permanent change. As we consume our news of the pandemic, we realize the event is experienced on a variety of scales and your profession or line of work dictates your experience and its severity.

This has been the realization for a few weeks now after much uncertainty in the first half of the lockdown. The discussion has shifted from everyone staying safe and having access to anything they may need to survive this ordeal to reopening an economy and getting our lives back to normal. A broad step towards a solution, but with a limited amount of information as to the efficacy of the plan; how is this supposed to work? We went from reasonable measures to protect our citizens in the form of a lockdown and more succinctly, to protect our health care system from becoming overburdened by the potential of a catastrophic disaster, to seemingly having misplaced our understanding of the intent of these measures and flip to saving the economy from a health oriented remedy. We weren’t quite ready for a pandemic, but with a great deal of cooperation from Canadians coast to coast to coast, we managed to do as well as we could to mitigate the concern.

A very similar setting can be found on a hockey team. The coach delivers a plan for the team to succeed and in order for the team to succeed, everyone on the team needs to cooperate to achieve the collective goal. It’s a loose comparison, granted, but there are parallels to be drawn. The goal, in the instance with a hockey team isn’t always achieved, but it can never, or at the very least rarely, be achieved without a collective goal. Canada’s plan for a lockdown of all of its citizens, with very few exceptions, has been relatively successful, but not solely because of the plan or the delivery thereof. The plan has been successful because we have all cooperated by working towards the collective goal. We’re playing as a team and our coach is telling us we’re doing the right thing.

As far as other comparisons between COVID-19 and hockey, they may be myriad, however, the focus here is related to the team aspect of the sport. Coaching a team to share a common goal is not the easiest task, even when in the best of times. There will always be someone who doesn’t revere the team unit in the same fashion as the coach or teammates. These individuals have their own agenda as a member of the team. Everyone is supposed to play in a mode where the decisions made by each player relate to the collective goal. Sometimes the results of making the correct decision are not glamorous, such as chipping the puck out of the defensive zone, chipping the puck behind the defender and deep into the offensive zone, or just putting the puck on net so there may be a rebound. Not the stuff that highlights are made of, or the lore of the legends of the game, but necessary for the success of the team.

Considering the plan is designed to be simple for all, this makes the goal more attainable. Regardless of your skill level or your role on the team, everyone can manage the team’s goals. Sounds simple enough, but it certainly isn’t a perfect plan and with that imperfection comes opportunity to exploit the plan for its weaknesses. This is where we meet the detractors of any team goal. They know better anyway and so if they find a peculiarity with the coach’s method, its their excuse to abandon the plan and the goal. In their eyes, the plan is no longer valid; the goal no longer attainable or even necessary. The team itself becomes dispensable. Meanwhile, the rest of the team is working towards their goal. It may be difficult for them to keep the goal in mind or to be disciplined enough to stick to the plan, but the coach reminds them of their intent, muster and perseverance as a motivating factor; a cue you’re doing what’s right for the team.

At this point in the story, the writer realizes the ineptitude of his ability to compare and contrast this subject thoroughly. In fact, the writer sees the futility in his attempts without avoiding mixed metaphors and missed simile and manner of misunderstanding. The idea that someone may still be reading at this juncture, still searching for the point of the opinion, not knowing it is here the writer was wondering the same thing.

In the end, we were told to stay at home and we all abided and rightfully so. Over time, we get some who test the boundaries of the directive. Does the coach know he’s going to win before the start of the game? No. That doesn’t mean there isn’t a plan, but if you don’t like the plan, you don’t get to quit part way through the game and just do whatever you want. You have to have some faith that we can figure it out. You have to stick to the game plan – focus on the goal. It’s the right thing to do for the team.

Loser

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After a few seasons away from behind the bench, I was asked by a very respectable coach in the minor hockey association I work for, if I’d be interested in helping him with the coaching duties for a local Midget team.  Initially, I was hesitant.  I’ve had experience coaching before, so I’m fully aware that taking on such a responsibility of coaching requires a full commitment.

Its more than just being on the bench or running a few drills in practice.  Its the long drives to small community rinks at late evening hours and, of course, the long drives back home at even later hours.  Its losing a close game and constantly racking your brain afterwards as to what could have prevented such a result.  This behaviour also causes a loss of sleep, or at the very least a lack of good, restful sleep.  Plus, a coach needs to be at the rink before the rest of the team and is required to stick around after games and practices to make sure everyone is ready to go.

Before the game, coaches need to be present for myriad reasons.  Filling out the game sheet, prepping the lineup, selecting a starting goaltender, pregame pep talks with either individuals or groups of players and generally speaking, being present for whatever may occur.  After the game, a coach will need to stick around, so if there was a penalty issue through the course of the game, he will immediately be up to speed on pending suspensions or any other issue regarding officials.  A post game rundown to be afforded the players – sometimes an easy approach and others, not so much.  Plus, win or lose, the coach must be prepared for an impromptu meeting with a parent.   Needless to say, there is a lot to consider as a coach.

As I stated before, I was aware of that, but still needed some time to consider if I really wanted to do all of that.  In addition to working for the minor hockey association, I also work at the arena housing all of those minor hockey teams.  I don’t know a lot of people who work all week only to turn around and volunteer their time at their place of work.  Maybe there are masses of individuals who see fit to do so, even if they dislike their jobs.  More power to them.  I am not one of those upstanding individuals.  For me, leaving my office at the end of my shift is a highly anticipated event.  Once I leave, I have no intention on returning until I absolutely have to – and even then, I would certainly be reluctant.  However, this isn’t about how much I dislike my job.  Its a commentary on how I believe myself to be a loser.

In the end, I accepted the challenge of coaching a Midget BB team for the season.  It was a lot of work, but initially, it was rewarding and fulfilling.  The coaching staff was granted an exceptional group of young men with a high desire to win.  And win they did.  The boys ran the table in their league with a perfect 20-0 record.  They also managed to win their home tournament, finish as finalists in a regional Silver Stick and once playoffs rolled around, trounced their first round opponent with 3 straight wins to sweep the series.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the incredible staff I worked with.  A slew of experienced fellows that know their way around a minor hockey team.  In fact, the head coach and the trainer were a part of a championship team at the midget level, a few years ago; a first for our association in over 30 years.  Aside from knowing most of the kids on the team, having worked with them in the past, getting the opportunity to work with that staff and learn from their winning ways was the big incentive for me.  You see, I haven’t won anything before as a coach and I have always wanted to know what it takes to win.  I thought that working with this group would provide me the opportunity to learn about the requirements necessary to put a team over the top and become champions.

I really wanted to do it with this team, too.  They’re a really good group of kids and when I worked with them a few seasons ago, as minor bantams, they had a tough season riddled with lopsided losses.  It was an awful year of parental interference, coaching ineptitude (myself included) and a severe lack of depth throughout the association, not just the team I worked with.  Children crying, coaches being attacked by irate parents, players being prompted by adults to question the coach and his tactics and an entire league that looked down on our inclusion.  We were a bit of a joke, but no one was laughing.

Considering the results of our regular season campaign, along with the rest of the coaching staff, I felt we had an incredible opportunity to make some noise in the playoffs.  Ah, who am I kidding?  I thought we were going to win a championship.  It was a topic of discussion all season long.  Before our first team practice, the head coach and I had planned on walking in the room with the team we had assembled and announcing our intention to compete for a championship.  We genuinely felt we had a terrific chance and we wanted to share that with the guys.  In our minds, there was no need to skirt the issue and pretend we didn’t have a good team.  We wanted to speak about our plan for the season and make winning the focus and overall theme for the year.

As we stepped into the room, we realized the conversation had started without us.  The players themselves were aware of the potential of this squad and they wanted to make sure that everyone was on the same page.  Witnessing this was definitely reassuring, as far as the players’ motivation was concerned.  As a staff, we decided our focus would be on strategy and tact.  Considering their motivation, we would just need to steer them in the right direction.

The season brought about a result I could never have anticipated.  We went 20-0 on the year!  A perfect season within our league.  It was incredible to witness and really special to be a part of.  I don’t want to gloss over the achievement; the players worked very hard all season long to accomplish this feat.  We didn’t set out to complete a perfect season, however, we believed that it was a sign of how good our team was and that bigger things were expected in the playoffs.  Boy, were we ever wrong.

The first round of the playoffs was preliminary and came shortly after the regular season ended.  Our opponent, familiar from our league play, was not up to the task.  We swept them with ease, as was expected.  This is where things start to go awry.  Within a week of starting the first round, we were through to the next.  The series opposite us had just started.  For some reason, while we had the time to extend play within the first round, the other series delayed their start.  Curious at the time, but no reason to worry.  We were eager to continue, but felt the tempo of our practices would keep us in our groove.  The delay continued as the other series took a strange turn and with a few ties mixed in, the other series went the distance and included a winner we didn’t expect.  By the time the next series began, we hadn’t played a game in almost a full month.

It was the quarter finals and we still had a long road ahead, but we were getting antsy about continuing our run and wanted to get things underway.  Our opponent was ready for us.  After being down in the previous series, they had to struggle to get their game going and managed to work away and wear down their opponent and come up with a win.  They had enacted their character to get them through and they rolled with that vibe.  We had been waiting for so long and yet, we believed we were ready.  We lost the first game 6-3.  No one panicked, but there was immediate concern from a few players and some team staff.

As the ice scheduler for the local minor hockey association, I negotiate the playoff contracts.  I select the dates and times, as available, for our centre and then shop those to find the most agreeable times between the two centres.  I was the one who agreed to the contract arrangement.  It was organized, for whatever reason, to play 3 games in 3 days.  The head coach and other staff conveyed no desire to agree to such a schedule and warned of the potential dire consequences.  I chose to ignore, believing that I knew my team and that it wouldn’t matter to the boys when they had to play.

Whether it was a lack of adversity over the course of the season or not, the boys didn’t respond well to losing the first game.  After a dressing room discussion on what we needed to do for game 2, we went on the road and lost that match 2-1.  A slightly better performance, but injuries abound and fear setting in, we were down 2-0 in the series.  The head coach and I were stunned at the result and were riddled with a queasiness that would not relent.

On the ride home, we received a text from our starting goalie about picking up a practice the next morning, a few hours before game 3.  Once we got home, we raced to the rink and booked an ice time.  Just an hour to go over a few things and get the fellas comfortable on home ice again.  It seemed to work, as there was a palpable difference in the room prior to game time.

We trounced our opponent 7-1.  It was a performance to behold for our team.  A few players reached beyond their ability to keep us alive.  It was amazing!  I was far more emotional than I thought I would be, but we needed some positive energy and it was overwhelming to have that feeling.  I don’t know about anyone else at that time, but I now believed we could win.  We had a week between games 3 & 4, so we worked on a few things and prepared ourselves for a big win.

I am not a good coach, but when I walked into the visitors dressing room to see a team facing elimination, my eyes gazed upon a scared group.  I don’t know what happened between our last practice and this moment before game time, but we were not ready.  The doubt I saw in their faces was unmistakable.  I took a deep breath and stepped outside the room.  I couldn’t look at that anymore.  Albeit a quick change, I was furious.  How could this have happened?  Questions of this nature are rarely answered, but it is never a good sign once the question is posed.

Sparing the details, not that they don’t matter, but if you’re still reading, you’d probably want to know at this point that we lost, 3-1.  I was embarrassed.  Emotions boiled over a few times in the series and more so in game 4.  It was too little, too late.  We were absolutely blindsided.  A perfect season gone to waste.  Fuck!  The feeling of it all slipping away, while the other team laughed at us, is the worst I’ve felt in hockey.  Watching the elation on the faces of a team we felt we should have beat was gut wrenching.  And, of course, the idea that it was all gone was just setting in.  There was no redo.  No do over – just failure.  The finality of it all was like what I sometimes imagine death to be like.  Once its gone, its gone.  Losers forever.

Most of the group were 17 years old, so this was the end of their minor hockey careers.  That is what I walked into in our room after the debacle.  Kids crying, blank stares and silence, but for the whimpering and sniffling.  My least favourite place to be.  I could only stand a minute of it and I needed to vacate the space.  I was so disappointed, I couldn’t speak.  One question after another about what had happened and why.  And although the line of questions I burdened myself with was endless, not once did I offer an answer.  I was so confused; I felt stupid and vastly unqualified.

Interestingly, the coach made a comment in the post game that stuck with me: “what’s the consequence here?  Nothing.  You don’t move on and for some its over, but there is no real consequence.  Its just a game.”  I guess I agree and in the end, he’s right.  The result won’t take a future opportunity away from any of these guys.  Eventually, we’ll all move on and carry no visible scars.  Some of us will move on to bigger and better things and the loss will be but a blip on the screen.  Yet, here I am, almost 3 months later, writing a post about it.  Safe to say, I’m not entirely over it.

After reading the preceding drivel ridden sob story, the reader may be rolling their eyes.  ‘Big deal’, ‘Get over it’, and ‘So what?’ are perhaps the common responses to my plight.  I get it.  I don’t want to feel this way, but I do.  I can’t stop thinking about what happened and why?  I’m not necessarily looking to allocate blame in this scenario and certainly not any of the players, even if some of the blame is theirs.  It’s not my concern.  I don’t believe in placing blame to find an answer.  I just want to know what happened.

Finally, I have arrived at the point of this story.  The tone of this post is a guy talking about losing.  A guy that wants to win, but loses.  A guy that wants so badly to win, but he doesn’t know how.  I’ve coached 11 teams over 10 seasons within 14 years and I’m no further ahead now than I was when I first began coaching.  I still don’t know how to win.  I don’t want your pity for coming to this realization, either.  That’s not why I’m writing this.  I don’t want the win for me.

As a coach, I wanted to believe that I could help lead a group of young hockey players to achieve their goal of winning a title.  I wanted to be able to show them that they can do it.  Trying to implore them with what I thought were the right things to say at the right times.  In the end, I couldn’t do any of that.  That’s a fact.  Even now, I still don’t know what I could have done to change the outcome for those guys and I feel awful about it.

Arriving at the conclusion I have, did not come easily.  It also took longer than it should have, in retrospect.  It may be something others can learn from, as well.  The conclusion: I’m a loser.  That is all; pure and simple.  In realizing this, I’ve also come to terms with the fact that I shouldn’t be coaching anymore.  I’m just not good at it.  Could I improve?  Maybe, but I’ve proven to at least myself, that even after ten seasons of experience, improvement just isn’t likely to happen.  I’ve thought about that a lot.  There is a quiet voice in my head that has told me that if I just worked harder, if I spent just a little more time, if I focused slightly more then maybe, just maybe, I’d be able to alter future outcomes.  That is just not true.

I spent my time helping a group that I was not qualified to help.  Realizing that has really weighed me down.  Not to become more self-loathing and badger myself with mental beat-downs that I’m just not good enough, but more that I used someone else’s time in minor hockey to practice something I was never going to get better at.  I sacrificed the playing careers of some really good kids because I thought I knew how to coach.  The time I spent robbed these guys of a chance at glory and none of them even knew that I was the reason why that happened.

I did speak with one of the players a few weeks after we were eliminated.  He asked if I was going to coach again.  I already had made up my mind.  I talked to him about what was going through my head and why I was left feeling the way I did.  I think he was taken aback.  I forgot he was just a kid and I don’t think he could identify with what I was saying.  I needed to be careful to not place a burden on the young man.  I haven’t spoken to him since.

I don’t feel much better, but I’m sure in time, I will.  The coach was right – I have no visible scars.  It makes me wonder, though, how many other people can understand what I’m saying?  I’d like to think that the epiphany I reached is of value to not just me.  People don’t like to admit when they’re wrong.  They also don’t like to believe that they can’t do what it is they like because they’re simply not good enough.  I think too many people go through life praising mediocrity.  I don’t know if there is anything explicitly wrong with that, but in my case, I can’t continue to do that where coaching is concerned.  Coming to terms with being a loser was difficult, but essential.  I don’t have a lingering concern about how I will be better.  I now know that I can’t be any better.  While that may sound defeatist, I’m at ease with it.  My only regret is that I didn’t come to the realization sooner.  I guess that just goes with the territory of being a loser.