Commitment is not a four-letter word

A little rain isn't going to hurt you. Honest.

This past summer, at my request, my colleague April "The Hockey Mom" Bowling was kind enough to switch our regular columns in the New England Hockey Journal. I just wanted to get something off my chest, something which had been percolating for years but really bubbled over last spring, at the intersection of hockey and spring soccer seasons.

For a long time, I've been frustrated by what I feel is a very casual approach on the part of too many parents regarding youth sports. Now, I don't think youth sports ought to be life-and-death, but I also feel that signing up for a team requires more than a passing commitment. Which led to this column, which first ran in the August, 2013 issue of the NEHJ.

Commitment is not a four-letter word

Every year, it seems I write at least one column that I know is going to set people off. So this year, I'm being clever, and switching columns with April "The Hockey Mom" Bowling for my annual grenade launch.

All right, that's only partially true. The real reason I asked for this forum is because the topic I want to discuss isn't just about goalies, goalie parents, goalie gear, or goalie coaches. It's about hockey players. All of them. And all their parents. It's about commitment.

I live in a small town north of Boston where the high school nickname is the Generals, after one of our more famous residents, Gen. George Patton Jr. "Old Blood and Guts" was a complex man, a bold wartime leader who could be equal parts condescending, arrogant, brilliant, and loyal. He could be quick to criticize, and quick to praise. He may not be the perfect school mascot, but his ability to inspire, and no doubt his fame, make him a solid choice. In one corner of the high school gym, up by the rafters, is a banner that reads: "General Pride – Tenacity, Spirit, Commitment." That pretty much sums up Patton. But youth sports? I have my doubts.

It's that last quality that really concerns me. Commitment. Part of me can't resist laughing, acknowledging the irony. As a guy who didn't get married until his mid-30s, I was usually on the wrong side of conversations regarding commitment. But, as I always told my mom, I was just waiting for the right woman. Having just celebrated 19 years of wedded bliss with my wife (23 years together!), I've learned a thing or two about commitment.

Which brings me back to youth sports. I've witnessed an erosion of commitment over the past two decades, and I place responsibility for that phenomenon largely on parents. Not every parent, mind you. But far too many parents allow their children to pursue as many pastimes as they'd like, oblivious of schedules. Admittedly, sometimes conflicts are unavoidable, given the lead times when you have to sign up. Other times, however, parents just take a shotgun approach. It apparently doesn't matter how many conflicts are created, or what effect those conflicts might have on the kid's team, as long as Little Johnny or Little Jennifer get what they want. Or what Mom and Dad want (say, skiing every other weekend).

So I'm going to ask you – the parents – to consider something radical. For once, stop and consider the other kids on the team before thinking about your own child. Why? Because it's a "team" sport, that's why. If we should be teaching our kids anything, it's that the team in more important than the individual (a basic tenet of hockey, by the way).

My own experience was pretty straightforward. Mom, who raised six kids, supported any pastime we wanted to pursue, with two crucial caveats. First, we had to keep our grades up. If our schoolwork suffered, the pastimes would go away until we set things right. Priorities. Second, if we made the decision to join a team, we honored that commitment. For me, that meant missing family ski vacations in high school so I could make hockey practices.

Now, the obvious dilemma is the question of "When?" When do you start requiring kids to make a more serious commitment. We want youngsters to have a broad array of experiences, so they can learn what they like best, what motivates them. However, reinforcing this approach during developmental years creates a culture where kids (and their parents) accept that it's fine and dandy to show up whenever they please. I draw the line at middle school travel teams. It's a perfect time of transition, for academics and for athletics.

I've attended countless practices – both on the soccer pitch and at the hockey rink – when only a handful players show up. Games are problematic too, but missing practice is a major stumbling block. The absent kids not only fall behind in getting fit and learning the requisite skills, but they also lag in developing a sense of teamwork. That becomes painfully obvious during games. How many of you have seen everyone suddenly show up for a playoff game, only to realize that the kids don't know how to play together.

Here's another example. This past spring, I was an assistant coach for my daughter's 8th grade soccer team. We had 18 players, 11 of which could be on the field at any time. Seven extra players seemed like a lot, but manageable. During practices, we were lucky to get half the squad, and game-day attendance was a constant question mark.

So, halfway through the season, I wrote a lengthy email to the parents, detailing our shortcomings. I finished with the following: "In short, soccer isn't a game you can 'dabble' in, especially now that the girls are on the big fields. Players who aren't in shape, or don't know where to be, or can't control the ball, or make simple passes, are easily exposed. And I think that's exactly what's happened to us. Former Patriots coach Bill Parcells once said 'You are what your record says you are.' I think our 0-3-1 record is indicative of where we're at. I'd really like to see the [team] turn it around for the second half. But that requires everyone to be all in."

Not one parent replied. At least not directly to me. Instead, one mom wrote to the head coach. That parent's daughter was a quiet girl who wasn't a gifted athlete, but worked hard. When she was at practice. Which, unfortunately, wasn't often. Here's what her mom said: "Many kids do pull on their boots in the spring for the pure joy and sole pursuit of dabbling in the beautiful game. The fast, slow, fit, unfit, tactical and tactically challenged, bring to the field the athletic gifts they have and are willing to share. Increasingly uniquely with no try outs, [the town program] offers all comers the opportunity to continue the experience of team sport. Some choose not to sit, but go out and join their efforts with others, not to win but to take part. And I am proud of all those youthful dabblers who make our town such a joyful and colorful celebration of sport every weekend."

That sounds like a really sweet sentiment, on the surface. I see it differently. I would like that mom to explain to her daughter's teammates why they had no substitutes (including her daughter) during a Saturday game played in 95-degree heat. Not exactly "a joyful and colorful celebration of sport." But that's exactly what can happen with this type of "my kid first" parenting style. What was accomplished by this child missing half of her team's practices and games? Certainly not an "opportunity to continue the experience of team sport."

Of course, this parent probably never gave it a thought. When parents lack any awareness of how their actions affect their child's teammates, they can drag down the entire team. That's wrong.

If you're still with me, I'll emphasize that I believe the hockey season is too long. No question. Many programs and leagues are run by people more concerned about profits than our kids. I understand that, and fully support my local program's policy of encouraging kids to play a fall sport (for the last three years, my daughter's first hockey game was scheduled before her first soccer game; how crazy is that?).

Once the fall season ends, though, I ask my players to focus on the winter sport they signed up for. Make practices, and make the games. If you can't make practices, don't be surprised if your playing time on game day gets trimmed. Because playing time isn't something that's guaranteed just because you show up, or something Mommy and Daddy pay for. It's something you have to earn.

FINIS

An open letter to hockey parents ...

Hi gang,

With the start of a new youth hockey season, I thought I'd re-visit my first season, when Brynne decided she was going to be a hockey player (one of the proudest moments of my life! She's in the first row, second from the right!). I got tabbed, somewhat blindsided, actually, as the head coach of the Agawam Squirt C squad. Here's my open letter to my parents, which I think also conveys why I think sports -- and hockey in particular -- are so important. Plus, I've always thought of coaching as more than an obligation to our kids ... I see it as an obligation to all the coaches who took the time to teach me, and to the game that has taught me so much over the years. And one that continues to teach me. Let me know what you think!

Welcome to the 2008-09 hockey season

Dear Agawam Squirt C parents and players,

Welcome to another year of Agawam hockey! Sorry this note is coming after our thrilling 3-3 stalemate vs. North Andover, but our staffing came together rather late (or maybe the season came a little too early!). Unbeknownst to me, I was "volunteered" to coach the Squirt C team, along with Jere Moroney, by President Apgar. Still, I welcome the assignment, and am looking forward to the coming season. The energy our kids displayed last Sunday has definitely energized me as well.

First, though, I wanted to echo Lee's earlier letter regarding Agawam's early start date, and the obvious conflicts that arise with fall sports. Clearly, hockey is not the be-all of your child's extracurricular activities, especially in September (my Brynne is juggling soccer, swimming, and lacrosse Fall Ball as well!). All that Jere and I ask is that you keep us posted as to the dates, especially the games, when your child can't attend.

I also wanted to let you know a few things about me, and my relationship to the game. I've played hockey for the better part of the past 40 years, and have coached for the past 12. I work primarily as a senior staff member for Bertagna Goaltending, though I've also coached at the high school (Hamilton-Wenham) and college (Endicott) levels. Simply, I love the game, which is why I still play several times a week, despite having entered my second half-century (and despite a host of nagging injuries), and why I'm thrilled that my daughter Brynne has decided to give it a go.

My philosophy regarding sports in general, and hockey specifically, is pretty straightforward. I think sports are an important, even essential, tool in teaching life lessons: camaraderie, teamwork, discipline, resiliency, respect, and sportsmanship. The fun comes not only from individual accomplishment, but in seeing the team succeed through mutual effort and cooperation. I also believe that children at the Squirt level are fully capable of understanding and appreciating these basic ideals (if not the "life lesson" aspect). As coaches, it's our job to help them with that understanding.

During this season, I hope each child will grow as a player and as a young man or young lady. Confidence, as John Buccigross once wrote, is the single most important trait for a young athlete, and we want to cultivate that among all our players. At this age, I'm less interested with their skill set (and wins and losses), and much more interested in their behavior, both on and off the ice. I hope to create, along with Jere and the other coaches, an environment where each player can thrive within the team concept, which I believe will result in team success. I will move quickly to short-circuit any behavior that isn't conducive to the team: woofing at opponents, showboating, talking back to the refs, or arguing with teammates, to name just a few pet peeves.

I want the Squirt C's to be a team that the players and parents can be proud of, regardless of what our record is. (Don't get me wrong: I like to win as much as anyone, and I'm sure Jim Cabot would be happy to vouch for how testy I can get during our NSSA skates! But I never want winning to trump sportsmanship.)

We will emphasize the basics. Play a north-south game, skate your lane, don't bunch up, cover your man on D, back check, talk to one another, skate with the puck when you're open, and pass to the open man or space when you're not. Everyone will play offense, everyone will play defense, and, yes, everyone will strap on the goalie gear for game or two. Playing every position is the best way I know to foster an appreciation of what your teammates are dealing with.

Last, I welcome input from parents. I understand that coaching youth sports is a delicate balancing act, and not everyone will agree with my approach (or the approach that other coaches might take, for that matter). I promise you this much: I will strive to be as consistent as possible in putting the team interests above the individual interests of any one player. Hockey is, after all, a team sport, and that's why it works so well as a teaching tool for life in general. That said, if you feel that there are issues that need to be addressed, please don't suffer in silence. My door is open.

Many thanks, in advance, for the opportunity to work with these youngsters.

All the best,
-Brion

Another hockey season gets under way ...

Hi gang,

Tonight, another hockey season starts up for my daughter Brynne, which means another season of coaching youth hockey starts up for me. I've been coaching for more than a decade now, and I almost always feel like I'm investing part of myself with my "students," whether they're Mites, PeeWees, high school players, college students, even full-blown adults. But when it comes to coaching my daughter, and her friends, the dynamic changes. Frankly, it pulls on the heartstrings a bit more. And sometimes, that's a beautiful thing ... Here's a column I wrote a few years back, about one of those memorable moments.

An uncommon, heartfelt apology

As a youth hockey coach, I get to see, up close and personal, the entire spectrum of human behavior, from kids to parents to grandparents. Much of it, frankly, isn't very pretty. And I suppose some think of me and my Old School ways in the same vein. I take the "iron hand, warm heart" approach to coaching. I don't cut the kids much slack. I want them to enjoy sports, but also want them to respect the game. They need to know that games aren't created for their entertainment; the games exist to challenge them, to help them learn and grow. The enjoyment comes from mastering a skill, from learning that extra effort is always repaid in full, and from sharing a unique camaraderie with teammates.

Still, I oftentimes think most parents don't get this approach. My bride once coined the phrase "soccer day care," and I think that probably applies to youth hockey as well. At least town-sponsored programs. Don't get me wrong; I'm not a fan of the over-the-top, win-at-all-costs approach either. But sports, really, are about challenging yourself, getting knocked on your butt and getting back up, and repeating the process until you succeed. It's not about being pampered, or about the nice gear your well-heeled folks can buy for you. In sports, it's about what YOU can do on the ice. No excuses (despite the fact that we live in an area where parents will make every excuse, no matter how preposterous, for their child!).

But every now and then a moment happens to remind me why I do this. It might be an exhausted smile, a rare "thank you," a spark of recognition that what you're preaching is getting through. Last weekend our Squirt 2 team had a game (at the ungodly hour of 6 a.m., at a rink an hour away) against a squad from Haverhill. Unfortunately for Haverhill, their goalie didn't show, which meant some poor kid without the proper equipment had to stand between the pipes. By late in the second period, with our squad winning 5-0, my assistant coach and I implemented a "three-pass minimum" in the offensive zone (like I said, the other team didn't have a goaltender, and we had no intention of running up the score). We re-emphasized that rule between periods. It was, we said, not only the right thing to do from a sportsmanship perspective, but our players needed work on their passing.

In the third period, one of my defensemen, a burly, likable kid (we'll call him "Bobby," in the interests of anonymity), intercepted a clearing attempt and took a shot from the point without the requisite three passes. My assistant and I immediately agreed to take him off the ice. This is where it gets interesting. I asked Bobby if he understood why I pulled him, and he sheepishly admitted he knew he should have passed. I emphasized that there are times when you have to resist doing what you want to do, and instead do what's right (in this case, pass, so we could be good sportsmen). The boy nodded. A moment later, he mumbled something behind me. When I asked him to repeat it, he said: "I'm sorry, Coach." It was incredibly sincere.

The next time I looked at him, he had tears running down his cheeks. I was really moved ... this young man really cares about the game, and really cares about doing the right thing. I was proud of him. "It's OK, Bobby," I told him. "We're good, right?" He quietly said "yes." And I knew we were.

Best,
-B