A Hockey Night in Canada: The Link Between NHL Playoff Stars and Everyday Heroes

When skaters become adults, hockey becomes their own game to make of it what they will, but since so many start off from the moment they can walk, young NHL-wannabes involve the whole family in their quest.

For those unfamiliar with the realities of ice-hockey training, here’s a glimpse of features common to even the youngest and most basic levels of competition.

Early morning practices tend to yank parents out of bed at 4am, getting the car warm and gear ready as boiled oats go down the gullet of a tiny star-in-the-making. He or she - both genders find equal opportunities in hockey - will be carted around and cheered on by a personal support squad as they play and practice at all hours and travel hundreds of miles for contests against similarly dedicated folk.

Learning to be a proficient hockey player requires a lot of encouragement, because even though the emphasis is usually on fun, it takes hard work and perseverance to hone even the most basic skill. As children grow into young, skilled athletes, training intensifies. Hours of seemingly pointless drills give players the ability to compete competently in the endless variety of situations hockey presents. Technique is developed as skaters practice moving puck to stick to skate and back again, over and over. Strength and stamina are cultivated with intense endurance tests on-and-off the ice, and there is no excuse good enough to forgive a half-hearted effort.

So why do so many people in such variety put themselves through ridiculous trials in bone-chilling weather? I realised I had thought about that earlier this year, but I had recognised the cause via an experience of my own in January. Though I found my mid-winter’s episode reminiscent of a Canadian upbringing, it was easy to see how it applies to so many people and places.

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As we trudged along the snow-buried street at half-past midnight, I asked myself “why?“. Why was I out in 30-below weather hauling a 20-pound hockey bag through my old neighbourhood, hushed as everyone with a brain was sleeping snug in the warmth? I had been sitting at the computer in my pyjamas thinking about cocoa and bed when the suggestion came to go and skate. I didn’t glam onto the idea right away. I knew how cold it was, and by 6pm I am generally bone-idle. But it was a Saturday night, and there really was no real reason to say no.

Grudgingly bowing to peer pressure, I spent as long as possible putting on layers of long-johns and thermal vests, which I topped with my Flames sweater, hoping that the notion would pass and we could just stay in and play hockey on the Xbox. Twenty minutes later however, I found myself crunching through freshly fallen snow, hauling between the two of us our skates, sticks, and my goalie equipment.

We walked most of the way in silence, enjoying the atmosphere of a quiet winter scene. I developed a routine for the half-hour trek: shift weight of gear to other side, yawn, blink sleepiness away, shake my head awake, and walk on for another minute or so before repeating. I resolved very early on in the journey that I would get to the rink, dig a hole in a snow bank, and use my goal pads for pillows until daybreak.

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