To be honest, as much as I love hockey I don't know whether my kids will be hockey players in the sense that they will be enrolled in a USA Hockey program. For us the barrier is proximity to a rink, the length of season, and frequency of hockey each week, considering it's a household with two working parents and not a lot of family support nearby. My guess is we'll get them in at some point, we'll give it a try, but it's daunting right now.
But fear not, in the here and now my kids are undoubtedly hockey players, and yes I love to see it.
My son recently turned three. His developmental milestones in the last year include all sorts of things, one of which is an affection for hockey. He wants to be a Blue Jacket. He first said this during the playoffs, and has repeated it since. I am trying to pick a favorite for him to idolize. The pool is Nick Foligno (my favorite), Seth Jones, Zach Werenski, or Cam Atkinson. Of course, they can all be his favorites. I am drawn to scrappy underdog Cam Atkinson, but also dual citizen and heart and soul guy Nick Foligno. The two d on the list, well they are d, they never get the glory (if I had to pick one, I'm on team Seth). Not his fault, he didn't build the culture, but Werenski's broken face in the playoffs a couple years ago irritated me. Guys, just wear cages.
If this is about my son, perhaps I should let him pick.
In addition to the real live Blue Jackets, the kids have taken to a little plastic hockey game they got for Christmas, with the players affixed to pegs and poles that can be pulled back and forth to "skate" the players and twisted to make the players "shoot." The game might look like it's the Maple Leafs against the Canadiens, but don't be fooled, it's actually the Blue Jackets vs Les Canadiennes. In it's normal state the players are ripped off the pegs and cast about, same with the nets, and good luck finding the mini puck it came with. But when Gran comes to town, the players are rounded up, nets and pucks and miraculously found, and it's game on. When I arrive home from work my son inevitably has an update about the Blue Jackets. When he is sent to bed before his sister (the trials of being the baby) he is promised he can play in the morning. And when he wakes up, he remembers. Gran didn't make it downstairs yesterday before putting in her first game and the boys in Union Blue.
My favorite hockey with my budding hockey players is in the driveway. In my youth we played in the street. Wouldn't dream of that today, but we do park the cars one behind the other to clear up a stretch of safe pavement to play on, in the driveway. We drag out the red Bauer net, and put it back together - like the players ripped off their pegs, the net is always in some state of disarray. I find the ball hockey balls and sound my threat about not chasing them into the street, as I deliver them to the kids. I try to convince each child to use a size appropriate stick. Sometimes they listen.
And then I watch them play, and heed any calls to join them. Recently, I enjoyed watching my daughter corral a ball a great distance from the net. She stick handled back and forth, and got her head up before she shot. She didn't like what she saw. The three year old was camped in front of the net. "Move your stick! It's going to block my shot!" Sweet, obliging little brother heaved the heavy, wooden and oversized stick up in the air, and spun around, his stick landing in the grass, the net now wide open and begging to be scored on.
So much for the value of a right handed D. But I would always draft him anyway, my little Blue Jacket.
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