Topher decided at the end of the 2021-2022 season that he didn’t want to play hockey anymore. It used to be his passion but “hockey culture” eventually wore him (and us!) down. I originally wrote this on August 15th, just a few weeks before the season started. My dad died a day after I wrote it and this has been sitting in my Drafts ever since.
It started with a plastic stick and a foam ball. You set up a miniature net at one end of the hallway, and as soon as Daddy got home from work it was time to practice. You called yourself “McDavid James”, a mashup of your favourite hockey player and your favourite radio DJ.
You were ecstatic the day I told you I signed you up for skating lessons. It was as if I had given you everything you had ever wanted! Your smile was the biggest grin I had ever seen.
The lessons were hard but you persevered week after week, struggling to get to your feet after a fall. You shook your little dog tail, lifting one knee, and then the other. I was so proud of you when it finally clicked! You fell seven times that lesson, I counted, but you were able to get back up each and every time.
Hockey was overwhelming at first. I remember having to read articles on Pinterest to learn how to put your gear on. We learned how to tie skates, how to wash hockey equipment, how to measure the correct height for a stick, how to tape socks, how to mold mouthguards. Daddy and I got comfortable driving from one end of the city to the other, in all different types of weather, and we learned which rinks had the warm bathrooms and which ones had the good concession stands. It was a steep learning curve, but we figured it out!
You were so proud of your first medal at the Timbits Jamboree! That was the first of many … Over the years you’ve won tournament after tournament. You have a silver medal from Minor Hockey Week and a gold medal from the City Championships. You’ve traveled all over Alberta and last year you even made it to BC, winning every single tournament your team entered.
You started out at the bottom of Tier 6, but by the end of your hockey days you were in the top colour of Tier 2 - and if you had finished your last year with Whitemud West, there is no doubt in my mind that you would have been Tier 1! You worked so hard every single year, and every single year you moved up. We had coaches telling us “Don’t let him quit hockey! He’s really good!”
But you knew when you were done.
I’ve loved being a hockey mom. I haven’t loved the cold, the early morning practices, or the stink in my front entry from the gear bag that is always, always, always in the way - but I’ve loved watching you do what you love. I’ve loved watching you work hard in practices and games. I’ve loved watching you learn and grow.
Last year I especially loved how you stood up for what you believed in, even when the rest of your team didn’t. You know you could beat that St. Albert team and you stood by what you said. Even when nobody else believed in the team, you did. To me, that was just as much of a “Proud Mom Moment” as the moment you mastered standing back up on your skates or your Minor Hockey Week “Moment of Glory”, because that was a moment when you showed your true colours. All through your hockey career you’ve been positive, you’ve been an encourager, you’ve showed good sportsmanship. And I was so proud when Zane’s mom told us what happened in the dressing room, how Zane told her the team was horrible to you but that you still said you could win - and you were right.
I don’t know what the next year will bring. Maybe you’ll miss hockey, maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll fall in love with drama or soccer or the guitar. I’m sad that hockey is over, but I hope you remember the lessons you’ve learned from your years on the ice:
Work hard.
Always try your best.
Believe in yourself.
Believe in your friends.
Persevere - even when it gets hard.
And be yourself - even when others give you a hard time.
I’m proud of you, T!
Love,
Mom