Photo: Lauren Cattermole and Gerrit de Jonge
This story was originally published on macleans.ca.
Our oldest son just played the final game of his minor hockey career, a milestone that reliably sends parents into spasms of nostalgia and melancholy. My little boy is all grown up and therefore I am elderly now. FETCH ME MY METAMUCIL AND AN EAR TRUMPET.
From buying his first post-game slushie to watching him play for the first time with a hangover, the montage of memories is now complete. Did I get a little emotional" Yes. Did I shed a tear" Sure did. Did I fall theatrically to my knees, shaking my fist skyward while cursing the fleeting nature of human mortality" Three times.
But let?s not deny it: there are also some upsides to the end of hockey. No more lunatic hockey parents. Most of the crazies tend to mellow out by the time their kid reaches the midget years. But even in the final series of my son?s farewell season, a couple of parents on the other team were still hollering things like ?Forecheck!? and ?Shoot the puck!? at 17-year-olds who, at this point, had played and practised the game for a thousand hours or more. One woman actually shrieked ?Score!? while a player was on a breakaway. That?s some solid advice, Mom. Totally stopped the kid from pausing at the hash marks to fashion the puck into a Christmas ornament.
It remains my firm belief that government should legislate Take Your Hockey Player to Work Day. All kids ought to be given the opportunity t...