My son Luke’s hockey team — eleven and twelve year-old kids — had their final game of the season last night. They had played the same team, from Durango, earlier in the day, when they skated to a 4-4 tie. (In youth hockey, non-elimination games can end in a tie.) The two teams were very evenly matched, and both groups left everything on the ice.
Hockey clubs are like anything else in this world. There are good clubs — nice parents, coaches that teach their skaters to play a clean and honest game, and good natured kids. And there are bad clubs — a culture that values winning over everything else, coaches that tolerate overly aggressive and violent play, and parents who shout horrible things at the kids from the opposing team. Durango was not only in the former camp, but one of the classiest clubs we had the pleasure to encounter this season.
After the tie game, a few kids on our team went out to dinner, returning to the rink for what was a quarterfinal game in the Avalanche Cup, the final tournament of the season. The winning team would play tomorrow, the losing team was done for the year.
Only when we arrived, we received word that, between the two games, the father of one of the Durango players had unexpectedly passed away. Hockey teams are like families (we spend five days a week together for seven months), and the sad news had clearly rocked the Durango family.
But the game, like the show, must go on. The Durango kids took the ice with a fierce and emotional determination.
Part way through the first period, the father working the penalty box for Durango leaned over to me and pointed to a kid on the ice. “See number XX? He’s the player who lost his dad.” (I’ve removed the # to protect the privacy of the player.)
I was blown away. The courage shown by this young person, suiting up and stepping on the ice, was more than remarkable. Penalty Box Dad and I agreed that in some ways, hockey might have been just the distraction the player needed. But either way, even though I didn’t know the kid, I couldn’t help but feel proud of him.
The game was, of course, tied (2-2) with under two minutes to play. That’s when number XX put the puck on his stick and scored the game winner. And if that’s not enough of a Hollywood ending, that goal completed his hat trick. That’s right, hours after finding out he’d lost his father, number XX scored all three goals for his team, propelling them on to the semi-finals.
My heart breaks for what that young man will feel over the coming days, weeks, months, and years, but I also know he’ll always treasure the performance he gave tonight. The love and adoration heaped on him by his hockey family when he emerged from the locker room after the game, left me verklempt. It was an incredible thing to witness.
Our kids played a great game, I was proud of each and every one of them, especially Luke. He played hard the entire season and really grew as a skater, a defenseman, and a person. And while I never want to see him, or his teammates, lose, I couldn’t help but feel really good for the Durango team and their number XX.
And oh yeah, I 
hockey 