Keep Your Stick on the Ice
By Justin Allec
I’m the father of three boys born in Northwestern Ontario. Being a parent comes with expectations about your kids, but in this part of the world, there’s a special one. Barely were my boys out of the womb before some well-meaning relative or friend asked if we would be “putting them in hockey.”
It’s a well-intentioned question, but the wording gives me pause. As a parent, I’ve always appreciated Thunder Bay for the ease of getting outdoors and being active, values that my wife and I will hopefully pass on. The city’s plentiful greenspaces and the variety of low-cost activities certainly make it easier to keep our boys busy. Parks, lakes and rivers, splash pads, and outdoor rinks all contribute to our quality of life. The sports that we have enrolled our boys in have so far led to the usual ups and downs as they learn about teamwork, competition, and how their growing bodies work.
Hockey, though, has me hesitating. When my boys can’t even walk yet, do people need to know if they’ll play a particular winter sport? It shows the perceived importance of this game to the city, with their participation seemingly dictating the course of their lives. The fact that this hockey question is asked with the same energy as “Are you going to baptize them?” troubles me. Like religion or church, hockey in Thunder Bay is a culture… and you can’t spell “culture” without “cult.”
There’s a lot I admire and like about hockey. Skating, stickhandling, and teamwork are all very cool skills, and ones that I hope my boys will have a chance to develop. Any potential enjoyment, though, seems to come with the caveat of hockey culture, for better or worse. There’s the expense and the organization of equipment, practices, and games at all ends of the city; the time driving back and forth to meet sacred ice times; the missed meals and the crappy coffees bought en route; the potential school missed for further games, further tournaments. None of that sounds like fun, and if I’m going to shoulder that kind of stress all winter long for every moment of free time my boys have, I’d like the payoff to be substantial.
I’d like the experience of playing and learning the game to be worth it, but I don’t think it is. Unlike the other activities I’ve enrolled my boys in, hockey has an endpoint. The goal, regardless of skill level, is to aspire to the NHL. So, to the already tricky logistics and considerable expense, add another layer of pressure. After all, hockey is a competitive game; trying your best is fine for underdog sports movies, but winning and scoring, sometimes even over your team, really is the point.
It’s this NHL-bound aspiration, I believe, that’s one of the main reasons why you have the stereotypical raging hockey parents. The business of hockey shapes the sport; it’s the trickle-down influence from a billion-dollar industry. That aspiration leads to a belief in your kid’s superiority, the belief that this boy, this player, will “make it” to the big leagues and a ridiculous paycheque. That excuses the abuse of the refs, the extra hard body checks, the odd fight, and of course, the insults and slurs to other players, even those on their own team. I can’t ignore the fact that there has been a lot of work done by leagues over the years to counter this kind of behaviour, but I also can’t ignore the fact that you barely have to spend time in an arena to see it. Heck, any time I’ve been to an outdoor rink where people are playing hockey it’s just a matter of time until I must cover my boys’ ears or move them to the opposite end of the ice.
There aren’t any obvious role models within the NHL countering this. Sportsmanship might win a player the Lady Byng, but no one’s excited about those guys. Instead, it’s goal-scorers, tough guys, and fighters who get the attention—Don Cherry’s kind of players, who really seem to be everyone’s kind of players. The kind of players who have been subject to 15 sexual assault investigations in the last two decades. The kind of players who follow their rich owners’ requests and suit up in a special jersey for “military night,” but won’t put one on for human rights. The kind of players who sell themselves to endorsements for sports betting, painkillers, and junk food because we all know that their time on the ice is finite. The kind of players that don’t show up in women’s hockey or come from the reserves. The kind of players that your boys are supposed to idolize and emulate whenever they’re on the ice.
So, will I be “putting my boys in hockey”? If they want to play, that’s fine—I’ll support them in their decision. Hockey can be a part of their lives, but it won’t dictate the course of it. There are so many sports and activities out there that don’t require that kind of domineering aspiration that hockey demands. Then they don’t have to just be what boys “will be”; they can be themselves and play the games how they want.