Puck Talk

An open letter to the guy standing next to me during my 10 year old cousin’s youth hockey game last weekend:

Dear Sir,

Hey pal. Remember me, the guy standing next to you the other morning at that squirt game? I’m sure you don’t because it was painfully obvious that your only concerns were your whiney little brat of a son and making a spectacle of yourself. But never the less I was, in fact, standing just a few feet away for most of the game. Anyhow, I’ve got a few observations I’d like to make.

For starters, do you remember the first shift of the game? About 20 seconds after the opening face-off your son was carrying the puck down the wing and one of the defensemen on my cousin’s team stepped up and rode him into the boards. I didn’t know it was your son at the time, of course, but your reaction kind of gave it away.

“Jesus Christ! That was a vicious takedown! Get you head out of your ass!”

That’s what you screamed at the ref while banging the glass. Yeah, well, couple things I’d like to point out. First of all, it was 9:00 in the morning. I don’t think any of us really needed to hear the glass shaking in our ear at 9:00 on a Sunday morning. Oh, and also, what you called a “vicious takedown” was actually just a perfectly harmless play for a league that allows checking. The kid hit him cleanly with his shoulder and, because your son has the balance of a newborn deer, he went down. End of story. It wasn’t a penalty. It certainly wasn’t vicious. There were dozens of hits like it during the rest of the game and none of those were penalties either. But I do want to thank you for the reaction because it let me know what I was dealing with right away.

So I wasn’t surprised when you yelled, “Jesus Christ! What the hell’s the matter with you?” He’s wide open,” at that little number 6 on your team when you felt he should’ve passed the puck to your son. Never mind the fact that, to get the puck to him, he only would’ve needed to stripe a 65-foot cross-ice pass through traffic that a college kid would have a hard time making. Never mind that your son was hanging up around the red line while the puck was in the corner of his defensive zone. And never mind the fact that that little number 6, who’s so far and away the best kid on your team it isn’t funny, ended up going coast to coast, hitting the far post with his shot and would’ve given your son a tap-in empty net goal on the rebound if he kept following the play instead of throwing his hands in the air and banging his stick like a little baby because, shock and horror, something wasn’t to his liking.

Forget all that. Instead, encourage your son’s behavior by yelling, “I don’t blame you Nick! It’s not your fault he hogs the puck!” That’s just perfect. That’s exactly the kind of lesson you want to teach to your kid. And, believe me, your son has learned those types of lessons well because in three periods of hockey he exhibited all the selfish, crybaby behavior you’d expect from a kid who gets that kind of reinforcement.

He whines about every little thing that happens on the ice. He throws his hands in the air. He bangs his stick against the boards. He bangs his stick against the post. He bangs his stick on the ice. He constantly pleads with the refs. He constantly complains with his teammates. And when he gets to the bench he pulls the same routine with his coaches.

But it’s more than that. There were two plays that really said it all for me. The first was a scramble in front of the net where someone on the other team knocked him down after the whistle. Now, the issue wasn’t whether it was a penalty or not. They called it. The issue was your son going down like he was shot by a sniper from the upper deck over a little shove in the chest and then, after the ref called the penalty, miraculously jumping to his feet so he could taunt the kid on his way to the box by waving at him like a smug little punk. And you just loved it didn’t you? You thought that was just great.

The other play was the game-winning goal you guys scored inside the last minute of the 3rd period. I was right down there behind the net next to you so I saw exactly how it happened. One of the wings on your son’s line tried to center the puck from behind the net. It hit a defenseman’s skate, bounced up between the goalie’s arm and pad, and trickled in over the line. The ref didn’t have a great angle on it so it took an extra second or so before he signaled the goal during which time your son, who was in front, dove in behind the goalie and swiped at the puck which was already way over the line.

I don’t have a problem with him diving out at the puck because it was a bang-bang play and he might not have seen it right away. I do have a problem with him going bananas celebrating a goal he didn’t score without his teammates and then pointing to himself to make sure the ref gave him credit for it. I’m sure got it too. I’m sure he got it. But he certainly doesn’t get it. And neither do you; banging the glass and yelling, “Atta boy, Nick!! What a play! What a goal!”

I expect nothing less, however, from a guy who was telling another father at one point about how Nick was “screwed” out of some kind of MVP and about how he bought him his own trophy after the season that said “The Real MVP” on it.

Yeah, well anyway, I just want you to know that I’m on to you. I heard what you said. I saw the way you behaved. And I hate to be the one to tell you this but you’re exactly the type of parent that gives youth sports a bad name. I hope you’re proud of the example you’re setting for your son. You’ll be happy to know that’s obvious how much he takes after his old man.

Regretfully Yours,

The guy standing next to you during his 10 year old cousin’s youth hockey game last weekend

Questions? Comments? Please send feedback to Michael James at feedback@barstoolsports.com