See that boy?

See that boy on the ice? The one skating as fast as he can and then abruptly crashing into the ice. The one that doesn’t seem as engaged as the other players? That’s my boy. He skates and falls. He tries and smiles. He would spend all practice trying to master the side stop. He absolutely loves hockey. And he can’t wait to score his first “real” goal in a “real” game.

He’s one of the youngest and for years to come, he’ll probably be one of the smallest.

Last year, was his first year in hockey. He spent more time wearing hockey gear around the house than he ever did on skates. His first practice was spent taking 2-3 strides and falling. But every time, he got up smiling and waving to me in the stands. He was so proud and instantly fell for the game.

It’s easy to see the difference between my hockey player and yours. In the stands, I hear the softly spoken words….

“What is THAT kid doing?”

“He’s wasting the coach’s time”

“Can’t he skate?”

“What is he doing here?”

I hear these things as I sit by myself, admiring the determination of my boy. I hear these words as I struggle with my own internal competitive dialog. These words floated easily from your mouth and landed heavily on my shoulders. Thankfully, I can bear the weight of your words.

But the words don’t stop there. Your child repeatedly tells my child in the locker room. …..

“You suck!”

“You’ll never score a goal.”

“You suck at hockey.”

My son was called a “baby” because of the size of his skates. Small skates does not equal small heart. Or small determination. Or small effort. Small skates only measures one thing…his feet.

When we climb into the truck for the drive home, I am faced with the same question…”Mom, do I suck at hockey?” And I do what most parents do…

I tell my son to ignore the trash talk. I tell my son to try his best. I talk to him about the importance of practice. I remind him to be kind and polite to the coaches and players. I remind him, CONSTANTLY, he needs pay attention. And when my good sportsmanship speech is done, I ask him two questions.

“Did you have fun today?”

“Did you try your best?”

Though his smile and sweat drenched hair can silently answer the questions, he proudly says “Yes.” And that’s what I care abwout. After all, my son is 6.

I am not asking anyone to tell me, or him, that he’s the next Gretzky. Or the next Sidney Crosby. Or the next Connor McDavid. I just want people to see his worth as a determined, enthusiastic hockey loving 6 year old. Trash talk at 16 can be motivating. Trash talk at 6 can be defeating.

As a former competitive athlete, I strongly believe in the power of sport. Sport encourages physical activity. Sport teaches team work and perseverance. Sport develops an internal drive to succeed. All the benefits of sport, start from a simple place though. The love of sport starts because we have fun. We love being on the ice or in the pool. We love being with friends. As we grow and develop our skills, the love of having fun with sport, morphs into a desire to succeed. The desire to succeed and be the best creates awesome athletes. You can't win an Olympic gold or hoist the Stanley cup if you don't have the overwhelming passion to be the best.

More important than winning though, is being a respectful athlete. And this needs to be taught from the youngest of ages. Kids need to be taught how to lose graciously. Kids need to encourage and congratulate others. Kids need to learn that losing is an important and valuable part of winning. Believe me when I tell you, the medals and awards will fade. The will end up in boxes at the back of a closet. Sometime down the line, athletes won't remember what "that award" was won for, but you will remember how the supportive, kind and encouraging athletes made you feel. You will remember a genuine hug from your rival. You will remember the sincere congratulations from someone who didn't have the best game. Being a good sport will last an entire lifetime. Trust me.

Right now, his love of hockey far outshines his talent and ability. Right now, wearing all the gear and having fun makes him feel like a star. So, for now, we will focus on having fun. He’ll continue to get distracted. He’ll continue to have fun falling. I’ll get excited and cheer when his stick just touches the puck. And I’ll wait, with baited breath, to lose my shit when he scores his first “real” goal. And I know that hard earned goal will be a day we both remember for a long time. And while he's flying high from his first goal, I will gently remind him he had a whole team supporting him. And then I'll ask him..."Did you have fun?"