Found the oh-so-competent coach Steve, the man with the encycolpedic memory of USA Hockey drills coded in his brain, and he drew up the failed drill from last practice on the big coaching board until I was comfortable with it. He had his adorable 6 month old daughter with him, he's a bit of a stay at home dad when he's not at the rink, and was waiting for his wife to make the handoff. Friday rush hour...hmmm...it turned out that he never got out of his shorts and sandals.
Returned to the kids locker room and took care of Tom's skates--how will he ever master that chore with a parent to do it for him? I gues that's the parenting question of our generation. Easier to preach tough love than apply.
As the clock rolled past practice start time, there were just two coaches and two teams. I came up with a couple of items, got some pucks out and waited for the guru who never appeared. Then it became scramble time. I kept chcecking with the othedr coach, "hey, these guys need a passing drill, got anything?" and together we gave the kids something to do throughout. Some of the drills were familiar to the players, some were not. But there was pace and no lack of direction. The problem was execution. The kids were still in summer hockey goof-around mode. It was like being a substitute teacher and not knowing the extension for the principal. They didn't listen, that didn't complete passes, they had their backs turned dangling during down time. Kinda brutal, though no tempers were lost, just a little disconcerning. So we skated them in the middle of pratice, kind of hard. Then it was time for small games in each half of the ice. LEft entirel on my own I didn't get much out of it. Had only one goalie and an odd amount of players. I was relieved when the clock struck 6:45. I had the location off talking to the players, now I know that there are TWO different Aspen Ice facilities within an hour's dirve. Hopefully they will show up to the correct one. I saw coach Steve wandering around still in his shorts, and the ultimate boss John who I still haven't spoken to directly.
In reflection, my USA Hockey training can't come soon enough. Time to hang out on the USA Hockey website and memorize a bunch of drills. 2 games this weekend, this will be interesting.
Tom was one of the few players who followed the direction to skate a couple of laps at the end of practice, and he was the first one out. Even though he said he felt sluggish, he put in the work, chipping away another hour and change toward the magic # 10,000 (if you believe Malcolm Gladwell, and he's a bright fellow). The drama about where he plays and what he sport he plays this Saturday took a couple of twists in 24 hours. Thanks to an exchange of e-mails with the ex, (including the written promise of my covering the second $1750. installment), Tom was allowed to make his own choice, hockey or baseball. It went down to the wire, including a flip-flop. Two factors ultimately decided it 1) Paul the man-child slugger was opting out for another league's baseball game, which was pointing toward a slaughter by the 11 yr old vets lined up to play us; and 2) the hockey game was an away game, which meant that the junior Devils would be wearing their brilliant red jerseys. The laundry won. Tom's playing hockey for Dad on Saturday, and picking off more hours for Malcolm G.
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