You CAN.

CAN’T is not a word.

Don’t even try to fight me on this. CAN’T is NOT a word. It is two words joined together forging what is called a contraction. Weird. So every time you tell someone you CAN’T, my peeps, you are contracting.

What a lovely thought.

I was asked to train an athlete prior to hockey camp and tryouts. The second day into training, I was exhausted, mentally. From the moment we started training till the moment our sessions ended, I heard nothing, but incessant whining and nonstop jibberish focusing on “I CAN’T”.

Day two consisted of one drill: push my car. I have a small hatchback. The car was in neutral, obviously, and the road was flat. Not a tall order. Just push the car. Want a better stride and stronger leg muscles? THEN, DUDE, PUSH MY CAR. I can guarantee a couple weeks of that is a crash course in strength training.

I’m talkin’ Karate Kid training, grasshopper. Wax on. Wax off, if you know what I mean.

But I heard a continuous stream of “I CAN’T” and the car didn’t move.

I snapped.

I have zero patience for people who are loaded with talent, have the ability to succeed, but jaw themselves into believing they are incapable of accomplishing their goals.

I started my engine.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m leaving.” I snapped.

“Why?!”

“Because I’ve had it with you telling me all the reasons why you CAN’T. So I WON’T. Until you give me 100 situps and 50 pushups. You have 15 minutes, or I’M GONE.”

Without a word, my scattered little yappy athlete suddenly became focused, dropped to the grass and started pounding out situps like I’ve never seen. Not one word. By 80, I could tell there was some burnin’ going on. Like a lot. 

“Tell me you CAN’T and you can stop. I’ll go home.” I said.

She didn’t say a word, but persisted, groaning in pain. “…86…87…….88..”

“Come on,” I taunted, “just tell me you CAN’T. You’ve been saying it all day. I CAN’T. Say it.”

This was unbelievable. Talk about the power of reverse psychology. The more I echoed the very words I heard earlier and dared her to repeat them, the more it propelled her on toward her goal. I was a little confused by the determination in her actions, but she had yet to face her toughest challenge. After finishing 100 situps, getting through 50 pushups would be difficult for her. I wondered just how far she would really go.

When she completed stage one of 100 situps, I doused her with a good shot of water and she started right in with her pushups. At 10, I figured she was done. At 25, she was trembling and shaking and getting ill. I was a little concerned. Not gonna lie. It didn’t look promising.

“Tell me you CAN’T.” I threatened. I was actually enormously impressed, but had to carry on the angry act until she either achieved her goal or said what she was trying to avoid.

“TELL ME.” I thundered, as she gagged on 30.

“NO.” She half sobbed, half yelled. Her determination to win, to achieve her goal, and prove that she COULD was greater than the negative voices that had consumed her earlier. I was inspired and proud.

“You have almost won.” I said, softly. ” You are almost there. I’ll count you down.”

Slowly, she finished.

“48…49…….50.  You’re done. You did it. You made it. YOU DID.”

She collapsed on the grass heaving and sick and in tears. She won.

Because somewhere within her, she knew she could.

It was a goal that I questioned she would reach. That’s why I threw it out there in my rage and reaction to her constant yammering, but she did. She reached that goal. When it came down to it, she turned off the part of the brain that is self-defeating and focused on what needed to be done to succeed. She became the Little Engine That Could.

So be that.

All of you.

Be little engine’s that CAN. Turn off that part in your brain that talks too much and tells you every reason why you can’t. Learn to be quiet and focus on what needs to be done in order to accomplish the goals set before you and achieve success.

And stop being a word that doesn’t exist.

YOU CAN DO ANYTHING YOU SET YOUR MIND ON.

Anything.

It’s NOT a matter of possibility. All things are possible. Just refocus and go do it.

Because you CAN.

2011
07/19
CATEGORY
Coaching
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Who Really Won.

I went to Vancouver during the final Stanley Cup game and had a riot. Literally.

Oh, I didn’t participate. That would be suicide.  I got out before the skullduggery broke loose by the third period and beyond.

But here’s what went down that night.

I have always watched the playoffs and gone to playoff parties, so when the ultimate playoff party presented itself, there was no way I could deny myself the opportunity. I thought the atmosphere was going to be just like the Olympics.  Stupid, stupid me.

Picture this: game seven on the giganta-screen. Georgia and Hamilton. Downtown Vancouver. Does it get any better than that? I didn’t think so.

It took two hours to infiltrate Vancouver proper. Road closures and police patrol had traffic funneling into only a few main arteries in the downtown core.  Traffic had clogged all the thoroughfares and the snail that passed me was having better luck in getting to his destination than I was.  It was going to be a long afternoon, so I settled back in my seat and watched the fanfare.

I saw jerseys everywhere. And flags. Towels and hockey sticks and hand crafted Stanley Cups. Buskers were plying their trade on various corners and people of various intoxications danced randomly to the beat. Vendors sold their wares. Street food aromas from assorted kiosks made my stomach grumble and my mouth water. Some people were painted in Canucks colours and while others were dressed in nylon onesies imitating the Green Men, only these people were dressed completely in blue.

It was Mardi Gras meets Disneyland.

And it was fun. I had fun. Everything was under control.

That is, until Boston started scoring.

A lot.

By the end of the second period, I noticed that the police presence had doubled on the streets. And the energy in the crowd had shifted from an easy, celebratory feeling to an electric, negative charge.  The hair on my neck stood on end and it made my skin crawl.

There were people, guys mostly, racing about, screaming, “Let’s take this city” and “Let’s get crazy”.  It was alarming. Behaviour like this wasn’t consistent with the attitudes and actions demonstrated earlier. These individuals were hellbent to riot whether the Canucks had won or lost. And it was a shame.  It was a disgrace, really, because it put a black mark on the entire city of Vancouver, so the saying goes.

BUT I would debate that.

 

Because the next day, over 7,000 Vancouverites gathered at the riot site to clean up and mend what was broken. It was a labour of love.  And it stood in direct contrast to the previous activities of the night before.

It was the Overtime period the world didn’t see until the news hour.

People picked up garbage. Swept. Recycled. Repaired. And when they couldn’t figure into a spot, they encouraged others by lifting spirits of the broken and dismayed, the discouraged, and the demoralized.

Strangers hugged strangers. Words of encouragement were written on walls and streets. Post-it notes offered words of thanksgiving and hope to our officers, our heroes, and were plastered all over their vehicles until they looked like large yellow notepads on wheels.

Talk about contrast? This is contrast.

Vancouver cares, people.

There were no hooligans. Or vandals. Or thieves that day.

Just the pure selfless desire to put others and the City of Vancouver first.

THAT, I’m proud to say, was our Stanley Cup.

2011
06/22
CATEGORY
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Angles

It has been awhile since I have posted.

Oh, I have written. I have several entries burning a hole on the dashboard begging for my approval.  It’s just….I don’t know. I don’t feel ready to let them go.  It’s not their time to party, to dance in the open.  To connect with you. Maybe it’s me not ready to open up and let you know where I have been these days.

I have allowed you into my mind and into my heart in seven entries.

It’s not much, I know. Other people have endless amounts of information rattled off in a moment’s notice about their particular proclivities and inclinations.  Good for them.  I could learn a thing or two.

I, on the other hand, write when my heart has been tugged, battered, humbled, or swollen beyond it’s borders. And lately, I’ve taken such a beating that selecting from the emotional smorgasbord seems a little unfair. Who needs to hear that?  We all have our baggage.  You don’t need to hear mine.

Instead, let me do what I do best.

BELIEVE.

In you. In me. In dreams. In challenges. In the power and the ability of one.

I don’t know where you’re at in your life. I have no idea what you struggle with, what makes your heart hurt, or what your obstacles are, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t need to know. What you need to know is that everything happens for a reason.

There are no mistakes. Only lessons.

And the point to every lesson is to grow. Take a moment. Breathe. Step back and take a good hard look at what just transpired in your life. Examine your heart. Be prepared to learn and refine and understand.

Because THAT, my lovelies, is the essence of life.

To go through the rough patches, burn for awhile, think about it and accept it even if you can’t understand why, then take that lesson and pass it on. Pay it forward. Help your brother or your sister, so to speak, as he or she, struggles through the same problem. The only difference is now your friend or family member has a crutch through the hard times rather than the blind fight that you had. It makes a world of difference.

Be prepared to make a difference in a life or two. Be prepared to be a hero. 

Life is tough. I get that. But don’t lament your hardships. Remember: it’s all angles. How you look at things. If something doesn’t work from one angle, drop it, and change angles. You would be surprised at how things look when perspectives change.

Know this:  You are a leader.

You have dreams. And goals. And ambitions. And no matter what trials and tribulations pull you down, you will succeed.

So do it.

BECAUSE YOU CAN.

AND WILL.

Trust me.

2011
06/14
CATEGORY
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After a Season

I have tried to write this entry at least five times.

But couldn’t.

I didn’t want to think about the obvious. Or remember. Or…hurt, really, because it feels like that’s all I do. That’s all life is. One big roller coaster of emotions.

And every time I tried to write, it started snowing.

Isn’t that ironic?

It blows my mind.

I’m in flip flops. It’s mid-April. And it’s snowing. And I’ve almost grown to expect it because winter is not quite over in my heart.

Not yet.

Not until I’ve had my say and bid adieu to the most life-changing season I’ve ever experienced.  The year one team took a chance on me and made me better.  Picked me up off the ground and gave me another opportunity. Where seventeen young women with different strengths, interests, qualities, and challenges accepted me, and I them, and we, collectively, embarked on a journey that would change us forever.

A sort of fairy tale almost.

There is a familiar saying: what happens on the road stays on the road.  It applies to our hockey season, but it would be a shame to not open the package, the gift that is this 2010/11 season, and give you a quick peak inside, if only for a moment…

We laughed.

We were a team that was as compatible as we were amused with each other.  We teased and pranked each other into confusion. Got into enough mischief to keep us honest and enough shenanigans to keep us giggling. It would not surprise me to discover someone stuffed into a hockey bag or to walk into a water fight. All I know is that I never started anything, nor do I claim responsibility for anything that went awry.  I mean, honestly. Who are you going to believe? Me? Or a bunch of crazy whippersnappers?

We danced.

In the dressing room. On the bench. In hotels. Playing Playstation. Wherever. Our team loved dancing.  I bought a boombox at the beginning of the year because I understood the importance of music in a dressing room, especially to a group of active, young teenagers.  It was a perfect release for them. I was so right.  We had a riot. It made our dressing room the hippest, most enviable hangout in every arena we visited.  And everyone always lingered nearby.  I mean, who wouldn’t?  WE. ROCKED.

We sang.

Undeniably the most underrated group of hockey playin’ rock stars west of the Rockies. Whether or not everyone agreed with each other’s music, it didn’t matter.  Singing was good for the team, it seemed.  And they were incredible at Rock Band.  Quite frankly, I never laughed so hard. While they were busy bringing the ceiling down bangin’ on the drum or impersonating Eddy Van Halen or crooning into the microphone, I was in hysterics.  They were awesome. So they sang. And as they sang, they connected, more and more.

BUT…

We also cried together. Lost together. Struggled together. Grew together. We had our spats and our moments of incredible drama. It was expected. We are women. But we became a unified group who, in the good times, the fantastic times, and in the hard times, learned to care about each other as only a team as close as what we became, could.

It wasn’t about winning or losing hockey games anymore.  Or developing skills and understanding systems, though that was why we were all there in the first place.  We had evolved into something more.  Something special.  Something each of us will have for the rest of our lives.

We were a family.

The Hellcats.

And we were sisters…

So now, I must close this beloved parcel. Some things are best left with the team, and I respect them enough to leave it there.

I don’t know if I’ll ever coach again. I don’t know what the future holds.  All I can do is let go of winter.  Hope for a thaw and be thankful that, for a season…

I was given a second chance.

~in dedication to my 17 friends, the Hellcats~

2011
04/23
CATEGORY
Coaching
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Inspiration

Inspiration.

What is it really?

It has many translations.

It is the breathtaking view of water cascading over jagged rocks, or the flash of the sun as it dips below the horizon.  It is a shooting star. The silence of snow falling on a cold, crisp night. A fish jumping clear out of the water the second I turn to watch.  It is a song, a taste, a smell, a touch that causes me to lose myself in an emotional moment. Joy. Nostalgia. Sadness. Something.

It alters my reality.

But is it really inspiration?

The definition bothered me for days.

It is an athlete who trains for four years drowning in adversity without funding or facility and performs the impossible, beating the odds while the world watches, breathless.

It is a cancer patient, who battles the dark thief every day, but can still manage to teach me a lesson in strength in the midst of her weakness.

It is a stranger spontaneously offering a random act of kindness compelling me to pay it forward.

It is spectacular people having the nerve to shower me with their goodness and mold my impressionable heart into what it is today and continues to become.  I call it inspirational footprints on the beach of my transforming soul.

THAT IS INSPIRATION.

But what I didn’t expect, was the day someone pointed that finger at me.

Knowing what I know of me, what I’ve done, or have NOT done in my past; or seeing where I’d like to be and hanging my head because I’m not there makes it hard to see myself as an inspiration.  My failures and what I haven’t accomplished feel like glaring oversights.

So how…

HOW does that make ME an inspiration?

I will never know.

One day the Captain of the Hellcats had an English assignment.  Her class was instructed to write a metaphorical paragraph on someone who inspires them.

She chose me.

To this very moment I don’t know why, but what I read left me speechless.

Overwhelmed.

In tears.

She nailed me.  Bang on.  And everyone who read it was amazed.

This what she wrote:

My mentor, Heidi: a coach and an inspiration.

Heidi is the ocean, she has many currents and many tides. When the current is fast, bumpy, and rough, there is going to be a storm, the sun hides behind the clouds. When a storm comes, the fish hide, and the ocean gets cold. The fish and whales follow the ocean’s current with force and obedience learning the current. The waves become big, rocky, and hard to control. When the tide is in and the clouds come out, we are wary of rocky waters and fierce waves. However, when the tide is out, the sun reveals itself. The sun stimulates the ocean’s currents and makes the water smooth, beautiful, and inspiring, it motivates the fish and makes them feel as if they can face any big shark in the deep, blue sea. When the tide is out, the beach exposes the beautiful seashells. The ocean does not like to expose the seashells because they give away the secret of the beauty that lays in the ocean’s depths. No matter, people notice them anyway. They are too beautiful to pass by and forget. The uniqueness of the ocean’s life is much more than inspiring, it is an ocean full of motivating words and insights. If you can last through the rough waves and wait for the tide to go out, then you yourself shall see the beauty and inspiration that it possesses. The ocean is a different world of inspiration, and it has the power to change the world, but for now it remains the deep, blue sea, inspiring the ones it is closest to.

~ Heidi Ferber, a coach, leader, and inspiration at heart….

…deep, blue sea ~

Used by permission by Chanelle Petrie.

She was awarded an ‘A’ on that paper.  100%.  Incredible.

Evidently, what she wrote inspired me to challenge you.

Never underestimate the power of your ability to influence others.  You may think you are insignificant and unimportant, having nothing to offer by the world’s standards, but that measuring rod is false.  What is really important and what really makes an impact are the measure’s of the heart.

So go do it…believe in yourself and be an inspiration by JUST BEING YOU.

TRUST ME.

YOU WILL NEVER KNOW THE IMPACT YOUR LIFE WILL HAVE ON ANOTHER PERSON.

There are no references in the world that could adequately describe INSPIRATION.

Do you know why?  They all lack one key ingredient:

Heart.

You need a heart to be an inspiration.

I figured it out….

Finally.

2011
02/25
CATEGORY
Coaching
Uncategorized
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The Road Not Taken

Robert Frost wrote a poem.

It could very well be my favourite poem, aside, of course, from One Fish, Two Fish of the magnificent Dr. Seuss.

It’s called The Road Not Taken.

And, as ironic as his last name is with this wintry season, his poem seems to parallel the weekend my Kamloops Hellcats attempted to spend in Golden, BC, on a hockey tournament.  A road trip we had been looking forward to ALL SEASON LONG.

The poem I refer to reflects upon the road less traveled…and I can safely say we did.

We went from Plan A and slid clear on down to Plan Z in the blink of an eye.

Avalanches had rumbled down mountain passes on both sides of the little town of Revelstoke, BC, a quaint little whistle-stop that graciously managed to accommodate a rowdy bantam/midget girls hockey team and keep them remarkably occupied.  I’ll tell you one thing, it was a blessed miracle that Tim Horton’s was right next door.  THAT was a gift from above.         NO WORD OF A LIE.

‘It was the best of times; it was the worst of times’…where have I heard THAT before….

It WAS a tale of two cities, but what could we do?

We were stuck.

The tournament was canceled, so we determined to enjoy our unexpected holiday at the foot of the Rocky Mountains.

Do you know how many people would have PAID to be in my shoes?

We were surrounded by a winter wonderland.  Snow was piled so high that it was impossible to look over snowbanks.  Every roof, snow bank, and teetering tower of plowed snowhill monstrosity was a dangerous mass of ominous avalanche waiting for exactly the right moment to spill its good fortune.  The clouds hung so low in the valley that the mountains were only a brief appreciation.  The falling snow was persistent. And beautiful. And cold. There was a lonely comfort in the silence of those large flakes.

The low hum of snow plows interrupted my thoughts.

I smiled. Then shivered.  I think it’s the element of danger that makes this trip so appealing, I mused with a wry grin.

It was time to change our perspective.

The weekend wasn’t about hockey any more.  It was about something else.  Something much more meaningful and perhaps more significant.  It was about relationships.  Friendships. Family time. Team bonding. Understanding what made us tick away from the arena.  Caring for each other, having a good time together in spite of the way things turned out, and making memories that they…WE…will never ever forget.

I know I will.

It was an extreme awakening.  A weekend of soul-searching and finding personal contentment in the midst of turmoil.  It was humbling and strengthening.  Gratifying and frustrating, but, in the end, a weekend I would repeat in a heartbeat.

Because you can bet everyone will remember the weekend they were snowed in and stranded in Revelstoke, BC.

“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I…                                                                                                    I took the one less traveled by…

And THAT has made all the difference.” ~ Robert Frost

2011
01/20
CATEGORY
Coaching
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A Challenge

Lame.  Lame.  LAME.

Practice was pathetic on so many levels.  And THAT wasn’t good.  In retrospect, all I could do was shake my head and wag a scornful finger at myself.  What did I expect…the national team?  Honestly.  I needed to get a grip.

Gah…*head in hands*…what have I gotten myself into?

Arriving early to the rink, I was eager to review an assortment of drills and plays that were purposeful, or goal-oriented, but all-encompassing and straightforward. For example,  I wanted the girls to be able to incorporate hard skating with hard passing, tight turns, quick releases, and shots from the high slot.

Simple, right?  I thought so…

During our last game, I wondered if they knew how to execute basic, fundamental skills at all from what I observed.  I didn’t know enough about them to identify accurately where their strengths and weaknesses were, however.  I just knew what I saw and I trusted my gut.  I wasn’t impressed.  I decided to give it another practice and another game before I established my opinion of the team.

I postponed my shudder.

Instead, I kept to what I thought was a basic drill module for 13-17 year olds.  They were talented, so I determined we could strive to do something a little more advanced than TimBits hockey. These girls were mature enough – talented enough – to be challenged.  I had faith in them.  They earned it at the last game on Saturday when they schooled me with their attitudes. I resolved that the best way to test their hockey sense and maturity was to provide them with some drill responsibilities and observe how they respond to it.

I smiled facetiously and shook my head, Let’s see what you’ve got, ladies. I silently dared them.

Then I spied her and was instantly angry.

I bowed my head and took a moment.  I must have cursed a couple of times, too, but I got it together eventually.

Our best player, the Captain, the one who originally asked me to coach in the first place – the one I expected the most  from – came limping in on a set on crutches.

YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME.  Unbelievable.

I wanted to snap, but I knew I couldn’t and the look on her face said enough.  I let it go.  I supposed there were other more useful ways she could feel my wrath.  Like stats. Paperwork. I nicknamed her “Pine Rider”.  It got a few chuckles, but, most importantly, it kindled a fire in her belly.  I saw the gleam in her eye.  I was told she was out for three weeks.  I doubted that, but for now, she was on the injured reserved list.

BOOM.  DONE.  How annoying.

Evidently, practice went downhill exactly like ‘Pine Rider’ did. Completely wrong. From the top down.  The coaching staff miscommunicated right from the start, which led to confusion and eventually a really bad, no-good, ‘what-am-I-here-for’ practice.  The kind that left me standing at centre ice clutching my stick and wishing I could crawl into the famous centre ice Loonie hole face-off dot.  Please God, let this end, I begged as I watched the drill collapse painfully before my eyes.

In a way, though, it was good that they failed so miserably.

Next practice I vowed to break the components of the drills down to a more logical process where they WILL experience success and eventually learn the plays in baby steps.

Through failure, we will discover how to win.  I know that.  I believe in them. They may not all be superstars, but they do have tremendous heart.

As for ‘Pine Rider’, I didn’t need to say much. The next game is on Sunday. I think she’ll gun for it.  My silent challenge was all she needed.

It’s what I needed.

2010
10/25
CATEGORY
Coaching
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My First Game

Having played scads of games throughout my career, I figured out… in the twilight years… how to prepare for them mentally.  Visualization, self-talk, and specific pre-game routines all contributed to me being calm and poised  when I arrived at the rink.

So what was my major malfunction?

I was falling apart at the seams two hours prior to the drop of the puck.  Not good.    Everything was out of control. My thoughts were dashing from I don’t know what their names are to what position do they play? Add a sprinkle of Should I dress up? and I knew I was in trouble.  I don’t DO dress up.  I was officially coming unglued. My comfort zone had been compromised and now I was in foreign territory.  I was obnoxiously anxious.

I am so unprepared for this, I fumed as I tore through a mountain of clothes.  I was consumed with finding a way to effectively contribute to this new team I had just joined.  How could I help the team improve?  How could I be an effective leader and guide them in a way they would benefit the most? I felt a great weight settle on my shoulders.  I knew I was going to start owning the successes and failures of the Hellcats, the name we had just adopted.

It was becoming more and more evident to me that I was struggling to let go of my identity as ‘captain’ and accept my role as coach.  I had a hard time stepping over the line.  Not being an active member in the dressing room or a participating player on the ice was going to be more difficult than I anticipated.  I began dreading the game as time ticked down.

I felt feelings of anger and bitterness boil as I questioned injuries, personal decisions, and self-doubt.  Did I actually make the right decision? Am I doing the right thing? I had a sick feeling in my stomach.  The feeling that I had before my first practice.  That I had made a very, very big mistake.

I had just arrived at the rink, and had stepped out of my car.  I stood there and stared at the doors of the building. My mind was screaming Run, dammit, run! I looked this way and that. Somewhere.  Anywhere.  I needed something to tell me what to do.  I had NOTHING to offer.  I felt hollow.

Then I heard a voice.

“I brought my water bottle.”  It was “KO”, the goalie.  She had forgotten her water bottle at practice Wednesday and nearly perished.  I had informed her we would play with a pylon in net if she didn’t bring a water bottle for the rest of the season.  Apparently it worked.

For that and for her assist in getting me into the arena, I carried her goalie pads.   Not to worry, it won’t happen again.  She was uneasy with the help as it was, which was amusing.  I enjoyed the moment while it lasted.

The team slowly trickled in.  They began their pre-game warmups outside before coming indoors and getting dressed.  Coach and I discussed players, positions, and various business issues before FINALLY convening with the team to talk hockey.

This is where time stood still for me.  It was awesome.

Coach didn’t really say too much in terms of actual on-ice coaching.  He was more technical. More into the line-up’s and philosophy and what to expect from the other team.  That was great.  The girl’s needed to hear that. However, they also want to hear what specific tasks THEY should be executing on the ice.  Surprisingly, it didn’t come and I was a little bummed.  I am a doer.  Give me a job to do so that I can perform it.

I gave them a little encouragement and decided to spend the first period and a half observing and making minor adjustments wherever I could before approaching the team when we had an ice clean.

We competed well in the first period.  The score was 1-1. However, I noticed glaring errors, positional confusion, miscommunication, poor judgement, and a mental lapse in skills that, with a little bit of practice, focus, and direction, I believe could be tweaked to make our collective game stronger.

By the time we went for intermission, I had seen enough.

Kelowna had one in the penalty box.  Technically, we had a 5 on 4, but somehow they were allowed to score with 5 girls on the ice and one in the box.  The goal should have been disallowed. Kelowna cried. The ref allowed it.  I went mental.  Inside. Remember the girls. Besides, the ref and I have a little history.  We’ve played against each other.  I had a feeling we would be in tough with her and I was right.  I couldn’t believe it.  It felt personal.

Not cool.

During the intermission, we had the opportunity to discuss what we saw with the team. It was a disjointed, unorganized, chaotic conversation.  It frustrated me further.  I had specific things I needed to say that were never said and part of me dreaded returning to the bench.

I feared the remainder of the game.

The second period turned out EXACTLY as I thought it would: complete blowout.  We were down 5-0.  KO was working her tail off.  The score, by all intents and purposes, should have been five times that.  Easy.  She was a monster.  I was proud of her.  Maybe I should always carry her pads, my superstitious twin started whispering.

I picked up the play board again.  It seemed like I was doing that all game long.  Constantly giving instruction to my defense or to individual players, trying to tweak their performance on the ice, improve their play, one shift at a time.

The third period was different.  They came out swinging.  Literally.  I stopped one fight.  Let’s just say they can hear me on the ice.  ’Nuff said.  But it was more than that.  It was their attitudes.  I always prided myself on having a positive attitude and team spirit, but these girls humbled me.  They were amazing.

And suddenly, in the flick of a stick, we had all the momentum.

Hellcats take on Kelowna

We owned the third period.

If we played the way we did in the first, with the momentum and heart in the third, this game would have belonged to us.  We managed to pop in a nice little goal by the end of the game.  It sent our bench into a frenzy.  I was elated.  I felt the rush of that goal as if I had scored it.  INCREDIBLE.

When the final buzzer ended, we all took a stroll down handshake alley; I swallowed my pride and shook the ref’s hand.  It’s all about sportsmanship, right?  I have seventeen girls watching my actions.  THAT is important to me.

Suddenly, I decided, I like them. I paused a moment to reflect before I went into the dressing room.

It was a significant moment.  It meant I realized I had made the right decision.  I did make the right choice.

It made me smile, but only briefly.

I didn’t want THEM thinking I liked them.  At least, not yet.

2010
10/20
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Coaching
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My First Practice

Going to the old barn has always been special to me.

It’s where I proudly cheered for the Junior Oilers.  Where I wept tears when we won our first Memorial Cup. Where I felt the rush of the puck flying into the stands without the protective netting at the ends of the rink. Where heat lasted only as long as the hot chocolate in my cup.  Where I discovered the Zamboni and secretly decided it was the coolest vehicle ever invented.  It’s where I first saw Wayne Gretzky, in living colour.

The place has ghosts, man. Lunch bucket ghosts. I could spend days rehashing the glory of yesteryear. It virtually brings me to my knees in silent reverence.

I. LOVE. THIS. ARENA.

I competed here, skating in their faded immortality, and now I have the honour of coaching here, my voice in their echoes.  Incredible.

Give me a moment.

Moments like these add pieces to the ‘Heidi Puzzle’ and define me.  I need to savour it…

The smack of puck meeting glass suddenly snapped me back to reality.

I closed my eyes and swallowed hard.  My toughest task was at the end of the hall and I felt nauseated.  The LAST thing in the world I wanted to do was meet a dressing room full of young teenaged girls with smelly gear.  I had a hunch the feeling would be mutual.  Only I wasn’t a teenager and I didn’t stink.  Why am I doing this? I questioned myself.  Do I need this? I desperately wanted to turn and run away. Desperately.

Then Alex, the other coach, waved at me.  Great. I’ve been seen. I thought. I was committed.  I took a very deep breath and greeted him back.  My gut was in knots.

Discussion on practice was brief.  Alex gave me his breakdown on practice when I introduced myself earlier in the day.  We had discussed philosophies, team direction, and management….all the good stuff, basically.  I decided for my first practice, it would be wise to just observe and toss in my two cents, if it was needed.  Besides, all I could think of at the moment was that blasted lion’s den.  I had a nasty case of the fidgets.

“I’m gonna go introduce myself.” I finally said with great trepidation.

“Good!”  Alex piped. “That’s good!”

I barely heard him as I stumbled toward Dressing Room #4.  The loud music drowned him out. Shit, I thought. I‘m gonna have to turn that thing off.  I don’t know how to work it.  I have to look like an idiot, too?! I couldn’t believe my good fortune.  Run.  Heidi.  Run.

I squared my shoulders and bravely entered the lion’s den.

Seventeen sets of “who-the-hell-are-you” eyes with a dash of sneer greeted me.  I was positive they heard me swallow because I squeaked.  Turning to one of the girls, I signaled for her to turn off the music.  It didn’t happen. I almost came unglued.  Fortunately, for everyone in the room, I was granted a mere twenty seconds of air time to say my piece.

“I’m Heidi.  I’ll be helping out on the ice, so you’ll be seeing a lot of me.  Please come and introduce yourselves.  I’d like to meet you.”

Awkward silence.

I hightailed it out of there and got right pissy.  Probably not a good thing seeing as THEY were the ones who were going to be my subjects for the next hour. I considered leaving.  Then I reconsidered.  I decided I wasn’t here for friendship anyway.  I was here because I wanted to be at the rink.  So I strapped on my skates, sat on the bench, and enjoyed the silent reverberations of the good ol’ days. Focus and confidence returned.

When we hit the ice and proceeded through our warm-ups, I was surprised that several of the girls actually had the ovaries to approach me.  It demonstrated who had real character right off the gun.  I made a mental note  to push those ones a little harder.  They could handle it.

When practice started, I was pleased to see the level of skill on our team.  We had amazing goal-tending.  We had girls who could skate.  We had players who could shoot.  Some of the girls were definitely thinkers and were very creative with their play-making skills.  The passing was good and it was obvious everyone wanted to be there. They were enjoying themselves immensely.

That’s when I lost my mind.

I stopped practice mid-stream.  Had everyone take a knee at my feet and hollered till I was purple.  There was zero communication.  Zero urgency.  Zero effort.  I wondered if there was concrete poured in everyone’s skates or piano’s tied to their butt’s.  Not on my watch. You would NEVER see a boy’s or a men’s team get away with that. Why should our standard’s be any different?  If they want to be good, like they say they do, and improve, they way they long to, it’s time to put up or shut up.  I stuck it to them and called them on it.  Our practices will be like our games.  If they don’t deliver, they can pound sand.

I’m here to make them better because….

I. BELIEVE. IN. THEM.

After we had our little heart to heart, they were a different team.  They were on fire.  I stepped in and ran a few drills. We ended our practice with three sets of killer lines, push-ups, and sit-ups.  Poor ladies.  They had to be peeled off the ice.  See Heidi smile.

Ironically, they came up to me and thanked me for a great practice.  This time when I went into the dressing room for a quick post-practice debriefing, the music was off in a flash, I had everyone’s respectful attention, and I was informed they wanted to keep me.

Gah.  Incredible.  They like me.  I looked to the rafters.  I swear I saw one of the ghosts give me a thumbs up.

Beautiful.

My heart burst.

 

2010
10/16
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Coaching
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My Struggle

My heart, if you could see it, would look like a Yin Yang.

The Yin section, all black and full of dread weighs heavily on my shoulders.  I cling to my 25 year hockey career by the thinnest of threads and every day I fear surrendering a way of life that defines me.  It is all I know. All I understand, really.

I feel so lost without the familiarities of the dressing room rituals, the team bonding, the player camaraderie, banter, teasing, and silliness, all the bench bull-shit, the on-ice victories and defeats, the ‘behind-the-scenes-stories’, and general game preparation, basically.

The real heart and soul of hockey.

There is so much in a single game, a tournament, a practice, a season, even, that people, who have never had the honour of playing this sport will never understand or fully appreciate.

The dynamics are sweet. They are so incredibly special.  So uniquely hockey. Uniquely FEMALE hockey. And I miss it so much sometimes I think my heart is breaking.  It hurts so much….

However, the reality is that I have suffered too many head injuries.  Especially after my last concussion. It was a friggin’ doozy, man. Initially, after twenty minutes of skating, I was a basket case.  I couldn’t stand it.  Literally.  I won’t bore you with the ‘messy’ details.  I’ll simply suggest that, as a result, if I were to be involved in the sport that I so profoundly adore, I needed to take a long hard look and re-evaluate my status.  Was it better to play myself into oblivion or was it wiser to use my assets for the greater good?  Perhaps, I thought, I should be willing to embrace hockey in a new way, from a more unconventional angle than I’m used to…

Thus, the emergence of my ‘Yang’-a-ding-dang.  In accepting my injuries, the healing process, and, I guess, out of pure damn desperation to be on the ice, I began sniffing out Kamloops Minor Hockey leads in hopes of finding a trail to follow….

CHA-CHING!

Fortunately, a couple of my friends are Directors of the Female Minor Hockey Association here in town.  Once they caught wind of my interest, they shepherded my attention to the female evaluation camps held prior to regular season.

Wasn’t really sure if it was entirely for my benefit, to see whether or not I would be a good fit, or if they actually needed my assistance.  Hard to say.  I decided to follow my compass and make an appearance, regardless.

Naturally, I gravitated to the older peeps. I gathered they were the Bantam/Midgets.  Whatever. Made no difference to me.  I just wanted to play hockey and I discovered quickly that this ‘girl-pack’ understood “hockey talk”.  I didn’t have to waste my time explaining drills, showing them how to line up, or how to divide into teams. When I barked, they jumped.

My heart smiled.  I could work with this group, a gentle thought fluttered through my mind.  I swatted it away quickly. I had briefly annoyed myself.

At the end of our session, I sat alone, thinking.  Debriefing.  Unlacing. Went pretty well, I decided.  I shrugged. It was what it was.  We weren’t out to win the Clarkson Cup.  At least, not today.

Suddenly, I was ambushed by a couple of girls I had been working with earlier.  They started ‘teenspeak’.  It was bewildering.  Then came the gazillion bizarre questions.  They drove me nuts.  Actually, they cracked me up, but I pretended to ignore them.

“Ooooh, can you coach our team?”  Zipped out one of the questions with a huge dash of grin.

“No.”  I answered flatly, but secretly amused; it took everything in me not to giggle.

“Why not?” They implored in unison.

“Because I don’t like you.”  My eyes twinkled.  I winked at them, turned, and walked out of their lives forever….

At least, that’s what I thought.

I’ve just been informed that I’ll be co-coaching the Bantam/Midget team.

Their team.

I know. I can’t believe it either. What are the odds?

Gah…*shakes head*

As for the Yin-Yang…I don’t believe in coincidences.  I believe in purpose.  Everything happens for a reason.  And yes, in everything there will be balance.

These young women think they snagged themselves a coach.  Maybe they have.  I believe I have found myself a healing process.   This year holds great promise.  I anticipate personal revelations, achievements, expectations, fulfilled goals, maybe even realized dreams.

It’s going to be a fantastic year.  I have that gut feeling.

So, raise a glass, my friends.

Cheers.

Here goes nothin’.

2010
10/14
CATEGORY
Coaching
Uncategorized
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