Gongshow Hockey › Hockey: A Life Long Journey

Hockey: A Life Long Journey
Monday, December 13, 2004

Posted by GSH-Editor

We had some e-mails asking us to re-post this story, so here it is boys, enjoy.... Written by: Anonymous

Stop. This is a hockey journey, so if your not a hockey player then you won't grasp what this all means. If your a true hockey player please read on....... It's 6 AM and I wake to the nudge of a familiar hand on my shoulder. I roll out of bed, wiping the sleep from my eyes, and struggle to place my feet in my sandals. I smell the sweet aroma of bacon from the kitchen, and I'm drawn to it..

[/align]

A man greets me with a brief smile, and tells me we gotta hurry up. Upon arriving at the arena, I walk down a cold hallway, gazing out into a thick fog straddling the ice. I yawn, and push open the dressing room door with the same hand that's holding my sticks, struggling as I push the wrong side, then finally pushing the right side. Twenty minutes later, I'm on the ice. I look up in the stands and see my Dad smiling at me. I smile back. I am an 8 year old Canadian hockey player, and this is what I loathe, what I am born to do. If only I knew what lied ahead of me......

An arm hits my shoulder and I awake, my legs do not want to wake up with me. I kick my toes out as if to summon them to walk for me. Within minutes I throw on my hoodie and trackers, slip on my flippers and I begin to walk with my roomy to the rink. Practice every day, sometimes I don't feel like skating, but I want to get in the room to tell the boys about what happened last night at that party. The locker room is always fun to walk into it. I sit down with my twig and launch a plastic tape ball over at Lawsy in the corner. He chucks it back even harder. I am a 16 year old rookie playing Junior "A" hockey, and so far I'm not that homesick. Right now, this locker room is as good as home and I can;t wait to get my name up in my stall. I think I might like it here. If only I knew what lied ahead of me.

[/align]

I'm running over to the gym, I can't believe I'm late. The last thing I wanted to do was be late for off-ice and have to run to get to it. Coaches sit around with stop watches around their necks and clipboards grasped tightly in their mitts. I'm in group "B", and there seems to be allot of slow guys with me. Sweet, maybe I can make a impression here. The whistle blows and I start a good pace ahead on a boring indoor track. A few lacrosse players toss a ball around in the middle of the track, I could swear they are smiling at us. Sucks to be us I'm sure they are saying. I think, yeah, but after three periods of the game of life that I like to call Hockey, your life sucks buddy. Twelve laps done, I feel good. I'm gonna pick up the speed. Nine minutes have gone by, one more to go. Man time moves slow out here. I wrap around the last lap, and my legs are complete Jell-O. Time to go gangbusters. I empty the tank the last 50 meters and finish 2nd in my heat. I reach the end and collapse on the ground.

I am 21 years old, and a Canadian freshman NCAA hockey player. People know who we are around campus, I like that feeling. American broads like our accents. This is gonna be a good four years, I can feel it. If only I knew what lied ahead of me....... I lace up my skates, and hit the ice. Lots of snow today, and the ice is a little slow. This is my first time home in January in about eight years. Man it feels good to be home. We get a good little game going, and I'm laying back playing a little D, talking to our Tender, and old grade school buddy. I get the puck as its dumped down in the left corner, cut around the net and fire it up to my winger. He skates up and I put her in high gear and catch up into the high slot. He lures the D in then drops the puck back to me. We are playing posts, so I snap on off the cross bar. "Nice pass Dad". I am 25 years old, but I feel like I've lived 100 years. I've seen so much, met so many people. experienced things I didn't even know existed. I couldn't have scripted a better first quarter century of my life. If only I knew what lied ahead of me.....

We are walking home, crunching through some crusty snow, talking about nothing. He's being real quiet and I sense something is up. He looked down at the snow and had stopped walking by now and was facing me. I stopped too. "Son, you know I'm not good at showing this kinda stuff, but now that your home.... I guess.............I guess what I'm trying to say to you is........" Then he looked up and right into my eyes and extended his hand towards me. "I just want you to know, that I am extremely proud of you. You became the man I always knew you could be." He shook my hand and I looked him right in the eyes. My eyes moistened up, I couldn't hold it back anymore. I mean this very moment was what I worked so hard for in the classroom, on the ice, and in the gym for 24 years. I said "Dad, you don't know how much that means to me." We hugged for a brief second then he patted me on the pack, and we didn't say another word all the way home. If only I knew what lied ahead of me.....

I walk up to the podium, and cleared my throat. I look out into a crowd of familiar faces, then look down again to look for my napkin that I had scribbled some words on. I forgot it in my seat. I look up, and then I thank everyone for being here. Then I don't know what happened......"Ahm....It's kind of hard to put into words the way I feel right now. This has been the toughest day of my life. It's. ahmmmm, it's just an amazing story about a amazing man--- but I'm not here to tell that story, because he lived it and you remember it. I guess all I can really say about my dad, was he was a great man. Two weeks ago, we ugh........ we played out door hockey together for the first time in a long while. On the way home, he told me that he was..........." I looked up at my Mom and my brothers then said it "He told me he was proud of me. Well..... I'm proud of you too Dad, and I'll never let you go, I'm gonna keep you right here.." I patted my heart. I couldn't talk anymore, my brother grabbed me and walked me off. I could hardly see, but someone was pushing me ahead, telling me to stay strong.

I smiled slightly as I remembered my Dad and I driving home from a tournament together in our truck when I was younger. I am 8 years old again, and I see his smiling face grinning at me telling me how good I played out their today and messing up my hair with his gentle hand. Man I miss him.........