Stick Around

I was reading this article the other day.  It's an excerpt from "Confessions of a Hockey Parent".  In it, the author shares experiences about his kid's tryout going from Squirt level to Pee Wee.

I can't remember the exact lines now, and I don't feel like looking for it, but one thing that stood out for me is why my kid seems to always be last to leave the rink. Sometimes even after the goalie. He is probably subconsciously doing that just because he enjoys being around his friends. He said to me the other day, "These are my buddies. They're all my buddies."

These days, as much as he wants to get better, he is also thinking about his team when we are training. He doesn't want to let them down. It's easy to lose perspective, especially when they get competitive and excel, but the main reason you sign them up for activities in the first place is to have fun and make friends.

The characters in this story are pretty crazy about the sport. I am, too. I kind of identified with them more, although when it comes to tryouts or games or even practice, I'm generally laid back. Once they step on the ice, there's not much else you can do unless you're actually in there coaching them. I just go over the drills and the plays with my kid afterwards. He knows how to explain what they were trying to accomplish, and he also loves to tell the stories and jokes and random other things that go on.

I then follow it up at home or at public skate or open hockey. If I see something that we can improve upon, we'll work on those, too. But once he's on the ice with his coaches or when he's playing the game, I am mostly quiet. There's already a lot for them to take in, and you're only distracting or confusing them. I feel bad for the kids of the loud parents. During our playoffs game last year, there was this parent who kept yelling, "Fight, fight, fight!" (Not to literally fight, of course, but to play hard). I mean, at that point, after all those regular season games, as well as non-league games, either they know how to fight for it or they don't. Yelling in the stands is not going to change that.

Cheering is one thing, of course. That's always good to do, in my opinion. Go, team, go! But coaching from the stands is pretty futile. You can't squeeze a not orange thingie out of an orange juice. Or something. How that go?

However. There are also those parents who don't seem to be there at all. Their kids are either getting rides from a teammate, or when they do come, they are in the car most of the time. I kinda don't get that. Not trying to be judgmental or anything, but I simply don't understand why you would not be there. (Covid probably affects this, so that could be a factor). Even in practice, they can do some impressive stuff. And when they do, that's when they look for you. And you make eye contact for a split second. And they move on. And they know that you know. But then they will still ask you after practice, "Did you see the move I did?!"

Also, I've learned that kids develop at their own pace. I've heard it over and over through the years, but I've only just learned it. Does that make sense? I would work on certain skills with my kid before, and he would bust his ass and get it, but then he would step on ice at practice or games, and it's back to square one again. He had all the parts but he just could not put it all together. I would say, for example, "The first thing you do when you get on that ice is try your quick starts." All week I would repeat it. "Yes, Dad. Yes, Dad. Yes, Dad." And then he'd get on, and he'd fool around with his friends.

Only recently is he trying out this stuff on his own. He'll do mohawks and two-touch and other skills that we've been practicing over and over on our own. That kind of self awareness is just starting to develop in him. So I mean, I guess you just have to plant the seeds and wait patiently for them to grow. Not that we're all the way there yet, but at least there's progress.

He's also been fooling around less these days and focusing more. He is trying to stick with the quietest kid on the team (who is also the fastest) and trying to stay away from the ones who distract him. Trying is the operative word. Once in a while, he still gets suckered into it.  

Overall it's been good. Outside of team practice, he had a training session with a couple of other kids before. I was watching on LiveBarn and couldn't really hear, but I was also looking at their head movements, and they were not talking at all. They would take their sip breaks and get right back to it. It was fascinating. No nonsense. All business. I asked him after if they talked, and he said, "Not really".

Last year, our team would always arrive one hour before game time. Some parents hear that, and they seem to think it's too much. Some of the teams we played would roll in fifteen or even ten minutes before the game. For us, the kids would stretch and the coaches went over the game plan. What did we do the rest of the time? We were just there. We hung out. Parents and kids just talked to each other. We joked and laughed and listened to music. The team got closer because of this. Really, this is the only time the team is all together and not on ice. Having experienced that, I feel sorry for those teams where kids just show up, do their hockey thing and then just go.

So yeah, my kid likes to linger in the rink. His favorite thing is to scrape the ice off his skates and throw it at his teammates. One kid likes to steal his gloves, and they would chase each other. And a bunch of other shenanigans. It does drive me crazy. But now that I think about, I'm glad my kid doesn't rush off after practice. Because if you really love hockey, you stick around.

Get it?!

Sun Kissed

I wrote the other day that I was sixteen when I learned to dribble.  That was just after the school year ended.  I was playing basketball at a friend's house (the same friend across from the lot where those hockey kids played), and suddenly it just clicked.  This is how you palm it and cradle the ball.

A few days after that, I worked at a summer camp.  I played basketball almost everyday.  The first week was orientation and training and setting up, and it was great.  We got to fool around and swim and overall just had a great time.  Summer.  Fun in the sun.  And the next week, the kids came.  I seriously forgot that's what we were there for.  But we still had fun during breaks, and we had this big staff lounge cabin where there were no campers allowed.

Anyway, there were about three or four sessions.  In between, it would just be the counselors and staff just getting a reprieve from the chaos.  One particular day, we all just played basketball almost all day.

I drank a lot of Sunkist that year.  Can't really remember exactly why but I just got into it.  If I remember correctly, they installed vending machines at our high school back then and I may have bought some.  It's kinda vague.  But at that summer camp, we were given three free snack choices at the staff lounge.  We would line up at the counter and tell the worker what three things we wanted.  Nothing healthy.  There were candy and chips and of course, soda.  I would sometimes go up to the guy and say, "Let me get a Sunkist.  A Sunkist.  And a Sunkist."  I was a funny guy.

So that day when we were playing basketball, I was waiting for my turn, watching the current game and enjoying my Sunkist.  The court was surrounded by a short wooden fence (a wood split rail, according to Google image search), and I was on the outside leaning against it.  In between sips, I would place my Sunkist on the wood.

One of the guys who were playing, Keith, comes over to me and asks, "Can I have a sip?"  Before I could even say no, he takes the can, puts it to his mouth and drinks out of it.  Not even an air sip.  And then just as quickly, the puts the can down, says thanks and goes back to the game.

I was just like, "Eh".  And I then I drank out of the can myself.  I didn't give it a second thought.  (I gave it a first thought though.)

That is something that will probably not happen today.  Or even in the near future.  That was a moment that lasted a few seconds that I hardly ever think about anymore.  But now it is a legendary tale for my kids.  Why, back in my day, we used to just share germs all the time!

Even worse was when I used to hang out with skaters.  I never got into doing tricks and rails and all that stuff.  But my friends were into it.  They would go all over Jersey City and the surrounding area to find good spots to skate.  They would videotape themselves doing tricks.  I would just follow along, and they probably tolerated my presence because I knew video and would sometimes give advice.

During breaks we would share a drink.  A two liter bottle of soda.  They would just pass it from one to the other.  I can't remember if they would even wipe the rim.  But there was a sense of pride and camaraderie around this act.  It was almost insulting if you wiped it.  Even worse if you air sipped.  They would just share those germs, and they were proud of it.  I can't remember specifically if I participated, but yup, I probably did.

When I first came to America, I attended sixth grade at this Catholic school in Queens where most of my classmates were white.  I spoke English, but I quickly realized my way of speaking was not the Americanized way.  I spoke English like, you know, Filipinos speak English.  Very formal and with the accent even.  So mostly, I kept quiet.  Generally I would only speak when spoken to or when the teacher called on me.

One time at lunch, this boy asked me if he could take a sip from my soda.  I can't remember what brand it was.  Somehow I'm thinking it was a Hi-C in a can.  I probably said yes or just nodded.  But I indicated he was welcome to it.  He asked, "Did you backwash?"  He said this loud enough for all the boys to hear.  As though he was okay with sharing my germs, but not that much of my germs.  That was the first time I heard that term, so I said, "What is backwash?"  He explained.  And then I said no.  And that was enough for him.  And then he drank out of my can.

That is probably not something that kids these days will experience.  At least not for a while.  And then, of course, there's "Are you gonna eat that?"  "Are you gonna finish that?"  "Can I have a bite?"  Sometimes I watch movies or shows or even home videos, and I'll be like, "They're not social distancing!  Where are their masks?!"  And then I realize, oh yeah, this was before.  Before "the current situation".

I stopped drinking soda years ago.  Sometimes we get free soda when we order Chinese food, and I just pour them down the drain.  I don't think about soda at all anymore but "the current situation" has activated my memory gland.  As they would say in Hawaii, this past year has been soda kine.

Sentences on Running

Sunday was a rest day for me, too.  I have gone back to running since around last September.  Because the game was early, I didn't have time to go out.

I run in the mornings.  In the early mornings.  Sometimes as early as 4am.  Recently though I've been going out around 5 or 6.  These days I drink coffee first.  Let's just say I need to get going before I get going.  Other than that, it's basically an empty stomach run.

That's why I can't run in the middle of the day.  I have to make sure I haven't eaten for at least an hour.  Otherwise I just feel all stuffed.

It's also hard to focus in the middle of the day.  Gotta make sure you finish in time to get back to work.  Or to help the kids with something.  Or some other thing.  It stresses me out more.

Actually, I did do two runs around summertime.  A 10K or more in the morning, and then a 5K around noon.  My kid was training for cross country so he came with me on those midday runs.  He made the team.

When he had practice at Montclair State University in October, parents weren't (and still aren't) allowed to go inside.  I got bored of sitting in the car, so I decided to run during those sessions.  Those hills up there were a lot of fun.

Now that we don't practice there anymore, I just run in my neighborhood.  I like the early mornings because the streets are empty.  There are a handful of neighbors who leave for work at that time.  And a couple of regular dog walkers.  Other than that, I feel like I own the place.

Just like the birds.  They are out in the early mornings, too.  Hanging around on the ground.  They barely even fly away when I run past them.  In the early spring, it was really nice to hear all of them singing.  There are a bunch of trees across the street where they all congregated.  I didn't want to go by under those branches for sure.

I also love to run in the rain.  You get so hot from running.  And then the rain instantly cools you down.  And there's definitely no other people around.  Because what kind of idiot would go out to get soaked in the rain?

I used to run in Lincoln Park.  There's a fairly newish track there.  It's blue.  I remember in college it was red.  But it's blue now.  The walkers there always used to bug there.  They're just walking.  And they don't move out of the way.  Why do you need to walk around the track?  Walk around the park.

Actually, now that I think about it, that is how I ended up running early.  I used to go there around 7am.  And then I realized the earlier I come, the less people there.  So eventually, I ended up being there at 4am.  I also used to run a lot.  I did about 12 miles.  Would take a couple hours.  I would see people come and go.  Usually there's a cop car parked by the 440 overpass.  Sometimes it was JCPD, and sometime the Sheriff.

Sometimes to overcome the monotony of the track, I would go around the park.  I tried running on grass because it was supposed to be better for your knees.  But the ground was so uneven that I kept worrying about spraining an ankle.

In the summers, the McNair tennis team would practice at the courts at 6am.  In the weekends, some guys would come and play cricket on the baseball fields on the western extension.  On Sunday mornings, every once in a while, there were less enough cars that the traffic light patterns would give you a few minutes of silence.  

Where was I going with this?  I don't know.  I guess I just ran on a little longer than expected.

Haha.

Rest Day

So I wrote the other day about how my son and I are always out on our street playing hockey.  On Saturday we were at it again, and I don't think that was a good idea.  We just wanted to be prepared for his first game in over a month, and yesterday morning he was sleepwalking on the ice.  Or sleepskating?  He had low energy and wasn't himself.  So I think from now on, we will take the day before the game as a rest day, which is how we had been approaching it.

He hasn't practiced piano and drums in a long time, so maybe we'll focus on music on days before games.

I learned piano when I was nine.  I was quite good.  I could read notes and play them, and according to my teacher, I kept good tempo as well.  But I didn't like going to lessons and I stopped going and nobody pushed me to go.  I've tried again later on, but it was never the same.  I keep relearning and forgetting.

That's why I always give my son a nudge with his activities.  He would rather just watch TV or play video games, of course, but once we're out, he does get into the zone and keeps working on improving his skills.

Sometimes I forget that he needs a break.  So today we just stayed inside.  It was raining out so it was a good excuse (although that never stopped us before).

The kids watched their shows.  We played Sorry.  The older one taught the younger one to play chess.  We watched a documentary on Aardman Animation, and now they're watching "Shaun The Sheep".

I was eleven years old when I left the Philippines to live in America.  That's how old my first born is now.  It was tough for me to leave all my friends and stay inside a small apartment all day.  That's why I always make sure my kids appreciate our house and neighborhood.

Restarting up this blog the past few days has been a bit enlightening.  I am realizing more that a lot of my involvement with my kids has to do with my own childhood.  When I was that age, no one was certainly thinking about getting me game ready, or rest days, or just setting up play dates with a friend or teammate.  When I meet a nice kid, I go out of my way to get him or her with my kid together.  When I was that age, my mom and her friends thought I had a girlfriend named Dawn because I once mentioned I walked home with my friend Don after school.  But she was always working, so it's understandable.  I certainly understood at that time, but now that I am older and have my own kids, some feelings of resentment are surfacing and I'm surprisingly less objective about it than I was at the time.  

My mom signed me up for Boy Scouts actually.  I went once or twice.  But she was busy and we didn't stay on top of it and I stopped going.

I wanted to try out for basketball.  I was excited.  Then my classmates showed me the skills you needed to be able to do to make the team, and I was a bit taken aback that you were expected to know them already.   I had expected to be taught those skills.  I didn't even try.

The closest thing I got to hockey was when I went to a family friend's house in the suburbs.  He lived across a school parking lot.  We were watching TV one morning, and I looked outside and noticed a bunch of kids on rollerblades, about ten year olds, gathering in the lot.  They had a net and sticks and they played roller hockey.  I was kinda envious, but I didn't want to show it.  I just kind of wished I was one of them.

And there were no parents there.  It's like they just did it on their own.  Or have been doing so.  Like, wouldn't it be nice to be ten, get up on a Saturday morning, put on your skates and meet your friends at the school parking lot for some roller hockey?

I took a couple of looks at those kids and then I kind of forced myself to stop watching.  

Another time at that same lot, I saw a dad and his boy go there to practice pitching.  I remember thinking something like, this is real life.  This is the kind of scene you always see on TV or something, and people actually do it.

I was sixteen when I learned how to dribble.  Self taught.  I mean, my friends would try to help from time to time, but it did take me years to just finally get it.

When I was in college, I was shooting around in the gym.  Across the court there was this dad and his daughter.  I kinda paused and watched them when I noticed he wasn't taking any shots.  He was there just to simply catch the ball and pass it to her.  He was there just so she could work on her shots.  That moment was etched in my memory.

When I was a kid in the Philippines, my dad told me that bouncing a ball off the floor and into the net was worth ten points.  I spent my afternoons after school working on that.  I mean, it's bad enough that he was not involved, but to just feed me b.s. like that?  I just really don't understand it sometimes.

I didn't say anything to my kid until we got home.  I think he was playing Pokemon Go while I was driving.  Eventually I told him I didn't think that was his best game.  And he kept saying, "Sorry, Dad."  And I kept saying, "Don't apologize."  It's hard navigating that fine line between motivating him and pressuring him.  It's not easy, but I'm trying.

I asked him if he wanted to be better and if he wanted his coaches and teammates to be able to count on him.  He said yes.  And then I told him today was a rest day.

The Three Mosquitoes

I have been using fake names in this blog, but I can't even personally remember who these people are supposed to be.  I was reading my oldest posts, and I had to think hard about who those people were.  I have a series about old friends called "Chum Bucket" and I had to read on to eventually recognize them and say, "Oh yeah...."  

Anyways, I'm just gonna call my kid Rusty.  It's an inside joke.  We used to be really into tennis, and of course, we wouldn't get much time to play during winter.  When we would get back into it in spring, I would always say, "You're rusty."  And then I would just call him Rusty.  

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On Friday, my kid's teammate came over to play roller hockey.  They have gotten pretty close recently.  They have been playing together for about four years.  Actually, there's three of them amigos, and I call them the Three Mosquitoes.  The other one didn't have in-line skates and was quite miserable the last time they were all together.  Anyways, the one who came over I will call Ernie, and the one who didn't is Bert.

It's funny how some simple decisions can change your life.  We were really into tennis in 2016.  I had tried to look for an indoor facility, but I think St. Peter's was full, and I didn't want to travel all the way to West Orange.  There were some indoor tennis sessions but somehow I didn't sign him up for them.  I didn't really look much more than that, I think.  I thought about soccer but didn't follow through.  With what we were learning about concussions, I had decided not to get him into football.  And I wasn't crazy about baseball because of all those viral videos of crazy parents.  

One day I read on Twitter about this program called Hockey In New Jersey.  Actually, I read about it the previous year as well.  But I figured, my son can hardly skate so he can't be ready for hockey.  This time, I read the details, and it said: "no experience necessary".  Like, even if he can't skate?  It's okay?  So I took a chance and went to sign him up.

My kid and Bert were classmates in the first grade.  There was this parent who gave another parent tickets to this circus show in Bayonne, and that parent told us about it, as well as Bert's mother.  The day of the circus, it was all packed and we couldn't get in - actually, we didn't even try as soon as we saw the parking lot.  Also it was a cold and windy day in spring.  So via text, we agreed not to go, and we decided to try Chuck E. Cheese's, which had just recently opened.  That was one of their first playdates, and eventually we learned that the two considered each other best friends.

So when we signed up for hockey, we told Bert's mom about it.  She said she didn't want to sign him up because he was already doing soccer and other activities.  But on the first practice, as I was tying Rusty's skates, we saw Bert walk in with his dad.  And his dad was like, "We changed our minds."  So that's how Bert got into it.

And I think the next week, we were in the locker room with Bert, and in walks Ernie, and Bert was so excited to see him.  Apparently, the two had known each other since they were babies, and they told Ernie about the program.  And that's how Ernie got into it.

That first year, Bert was the fastest of the three of them.  And Rusty was the slowest.  Bert's dad found out about the ice rink in Secaucus, and Bert came up to me one week to ask if I can take Rusty to open skate.  That time I had a cold, and I felt bad saying no.  The next week, we did go.  If I remember correctly, the HNJ session was from 12 to 1pm, and Secaucus public skate was at 1:30.  So after the session, we would rush to take their skates off.  They would be dressed in gear, and we would hurry off to Secaucus.

One time, Bert and Rusty raced around the rink, and Bert was so much faster that Rusty got down on the ice and cried at the end.  I was with his little brother Dusty watching from outside, and I was like, "Really?  Another meltdown?"

Competing against his best friend motivated Rusty, and I helped him as much as I can.  I wasn't a great skater, so it was tough at times.  "Do as I say, not as I do."  But I am proud to say that I taught him how to hockey stop and power skate, despite it all.

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Anyways, where was I going with this?  Well, the next year, HNJ decided to move up some of the kids and group them with the older ones.  They would play a lot of full ice scrimmages, and you could just see that Rusty did not know what was going on.  

At that point, I was just happy that he had a winter activity.  But the more advanced the drills got, the more frustrated he got.  One time he whacked a kid with his stick, and yes they have full gear and the kid was okay, but it still upset me that he did that.  Another time, there was this kid Serenity, who was very fast and could lift the puck and score at will almost anytime.  Well, that got to Rusty and he just focused on stopping that kid and constantly frustrated him.  Well, eventually Serenity did score.  Rusty got down to pick the puck out of the net, and Serenity taps him on the helmet with his stick.  Rusty stands up and screams in his face, and you could hear it across the rink.  I can't remember what he said.  So Serenity runs off crying in the locker room.

Eventually they did make up and they are kind of friends now to this day.

But it was at that point that I asked him, if you want to be able to compete with these kids, you will have to work hard for it.  You can't just scream at them and whack them with your stick if things are not going your way.  So we kind of made an agreement, and that's how all the extra training started.

I just watched YouTube videos and read up on skating and hockey skills.  And I would demonstrate as best as I can although I couldn't show it properly.  It was very frustrating a lot of the time, but we learned to be patient with each other.

One time while we were at Secaucus, the facilities guy there told me about this teenage kid who was looking to make extra cash coaching younger kids.  I scheduled time with him and paid him $25.  I was watching the session, and I thought, I could do this.  The kid was nice enough so I gave him a good tip, but after that, it was just me and Rusty.

At the end of the HNJ season, some kids were being considered to be in Spring League.  I was really hoping Rusty could make it, but he did not.  The director told me he was the last one they considered.  Or I can't remember his exact wording.  He was the first of the ones who did not make it.  As in, of all the ones they cut, he was the best out of all the rest.  Does that make sense?  Did I explain that right?

I ended up looking around online and found out about Bayonne Spring Clinic.  $25 for about 4 months.  Not too bad.  We then ended up telling Bert and Ernie about it.  And the three were happy to be playing hockey together some more.

Actually a few weeks earlier, I also found out about Bayonne tryout clinics.  The sessions were free.  But I didn't take Rusty there.  I just didn't know if he was ready for them I guess.  There was just so little I knew about hockey at the time.

---

Year 3, and the kids were finally old enough to be in the HNJ House League.  As they had become good friends through the past couple years, we hoped they would be put together in the same team.  But the director told us that they would have to be separated as they were the best players in their age group, and it would be an unfair advantage.  

It was a surprise to hear that.  I was always comparing him to the older kids they had been grouped with, and I didn't realize he had surpassed the other kids his age.  

In the fall of that season, there was travel involved with the rec league, and they actually called it the Super League.  Teams would be playing against Englewood and Montclair.

Ernie's dad did not have a car, and so they managed to convince the director to have both he and Bert on the same team for the sake of carpooling.  And Rusty was on his own.  And that pissed him off.

Their games against each other were intense (at least for their age and skill level).  And Rusty hated losing to them.  And he would see Bert at school everyday and they would always talk about the past or upcoming games.

So that motivated Rusty even more.  While at Englewood, we saw that they offered stick time, and we kept coming back to that rink to practice.  

Rusty became the leading scorer for his age group in that Super League.  In the winter, there was a different house league with new teams, and I volunteered to be the coach.  We had a different group of kids, and there was no longer travel to the other two towns.

Bert had decided to try playing goalie.  Rusty and Ernie were the leading scorers in their age group.  Our team went undefeated, and I am proud to say we had the most number of kids with goals.  

In the championship final, of course it was Rusty's team against Ernie's.  Things did not go very well right from the start, as Ernie got a goal in the first few seconds of the game, taking the faceoff and scoring unassisted.  After that, Rusty kept forcing bad shot after bad shot and had a meltdown on the bench.

After that was the older group's championship.  While the kids waited, they calmed down and forgot about the intensity of the game and everybody was friends again, running around playing tag and hide and seek around the rink.  And then there was free skate and they were all just having fun again.

By the way, during this session, one of my team parents came up to me and asked, "Are you Rusty's dad?"  I guess he didn't realize that throughout the whole season?  I hope that means that I was being fair with everybody's ice time.  (That is actually one reason we lost the championship as I gave an even amount of ice time to everyone instead of just putting Rusty out there, even while the kids begged for me to do so.  I told them I want the team to win it, not just Rusty.)

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We quickly decided after that that the Three Mosquitoes needed more competition.  Bert and Ernie's dads and I agreed that we would sign them up to a travel team that would take all three of them.

Gonna save some details for another post, but the three eventually made it on the same competitive team.  They went to the championship game and lost.  The next season, which is now, they are sitting in first place in the standings.

It's funny how that one decision to try hockey changed things.  I could instead have looked into indoor or winter tennis.  I could have found a professional coach and put Rusty into competition matches.  But instead I chose to save money and try hockey for free.  But tennis was getting too boring for him because we didn't know other kids close to his skill level, and it was just me and him all the time.  So I decided to give him a break.

It's good when your kid excels in something.  But the main reason we signed up for hockey in the first place was to be around other kids.  And no matter what happens this season or in the future, it's really all about making friends at the end of the day.

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Binky, the Clown Who Saved Christmas

Have you ever watched "A Garfield Christmas Special"?  In that show, the dad reads Jon and his brother a book, about Binky The Clown.  He starts reading and then it transitions to the end.  But we never get to hear the middle.  

This Christmas break, I gave my kid a project.  He had to write the rest of the story.  Here it is:

Binky, The Clown Who Saved Christmas

By (*my kid)

Once upon a time, there was a clown named Binky. Binky loved children. Everytime Binky saw children he would say, “HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIDS!”

One day, Binky was out Christmas shopping. He saw a little boy and his sister looking at toys in the window of Timothy’s Toy Town, which was the most popular toy store in the city. So, he yelled out, “HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIDS!” The boy and girl jumped. “Hiya kiddies! I’m Binky the clown.” Binky said cheerfully. The boy replied, “H-hi. M-m-my name’s Omar. A-and this is my si-si-sister, Jayla.” Binky asked them, “Why are ya standing outside the store? Just go inside and buy some toys!” Jayla told him sadly, “We’re poor sir, so we can’t buy the toys.”

Binky felt sorry for them, so he handed them each 20 bucks and said, “Go ahead. Knock yourselves out.” The kids stared at the money, and then ran into the store so fast, Binky thought they had disappeared.

Chuckling, Binky started to walk home with his groceries and toys. Before he could, people screamed. Binky turned around, and he saw a man wearing black and white striped clothes, and a black mask. The man had a big sack, and a black beard. He also had a gun pointing at Omar and Jayla! Binky ran over to help, but had to stop, because the man yelled out, “Now nobody move, or the little childers get it.” Everyone did as he said. “Good. Now, I want you to put all your toys, money, and jewelry into this sack.” Everyone did. Quick as a flash, the man ran away.

Binky asked the children, “Are you ok?” “Yes,” they said. “We’re fine.” One man said to his friend, “Well, looks like I have to go to Farmer Fred’s Toy Shed.” His friend shook his head sadly and told him, “No, you can’t because the man also robbed that store too. In fact, he robbed every toy store in the city.” Everyone gasped. “Now no one will have any presents this year!” a woman cried. “And what’s worse, we don’t even have any money because he robbed the bank!” A banker sobbed.

“HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY!” Binky yelled. There was instant quiet. “Let’s all calm down here. I think I know where to find this person so we can get the money and toys back.” “And don’t forget the jewelry!” chimed in a rich lady. “How can you find the robber?” asked her husband, giving her a glare. “Because he’s zapping himself with a grow-i-nator gadget and is now the size of the empire state building.” Binky responded grimly.

Everyone whips around and stares at the laughing robber. “HAHA!” he yelled. “NOW I AM AS BIG AS PAUL BUNYAN! TIME FOR ME TO MAKE MY ESCAPE! SO LONG, SUCKERS!” He starts to walk towards the sea. “If he reaches the sea, we’ll never catch him!” whined the rich woman. Binky thought fast, and thought of a plan.

Binky raced to the gadget. Zapping himself, he grew to the same size as the robber. “HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIDS!” he yelled. The robber turned around. He growled, and pulled out his gun. But before he could shoot, Binky threw a pie right in his face! The robber raised his hands to wipe off the pie, and that's when Binky pulled out a circus cannon and blasted a pie in his stomach. When the robber bent over, Binky blasted another pie into his face. Then, Binky tackled him into the shallow part of the sea. Putting one of his huge shoes onto the robber’s face, Binky picked up the sack, and said, “Now, you can rob your cellmates in jail, instead.” Suddenly, Binky, the sack, and the robber all shrunk down. The cops came and arrested the robber as Binky handed out the money, toys, and jewelry. “Congrats Binky!” said a cop. “This robber had been robbing toy stores and banks from all over the world. Now he can’t do that anymore!” So Binky saved Christmas for children from all over the world.

The End

After he finished it, I read the story to them.  And they would say, "Dad, say it the way Binky says it."  And I would.  And they would laugh hysterically.  Well, we have a new Christmas tradition.

Hockey At Home

Here is another attempt at keeping up with this blog.  Over three years later since my last post.  I usually struggle with organizing my thoughts.  Maybe this time around I'll just keep typing.  Also, I really like having a good title.  Even though now that I look back at my old posts, I can't tell what the entries were about anyway based on the title.

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So my kid has gotten very much into hockey recently.  Last season, his team made it all the way to the Finals.  They lost, which sucked, but they took it well and quickly moved on.  In the locker room, the head coach allowed the parents to say something to the kids.  I was busy taking videos as usual, and when I am in that mode, I tend to be quiet behind the camera.  After the moment had passed, that's when I realized there was something I did want to say.

This is what I would have said to that group of 9 to 11 year olds:

"I never played hockey before.  I didn't get a chance to play this sport growing up, and you guys are all lucky to have all these people organize everything so you could play.  You are lucky to have parents who pay your tuition, buy your gear, drive you to games and practices.  You are lucky to have great coaches who expect the best out of you.  You get to do this.  You get to play this game.  I never got to do that.

What I would say to you is that when you get on that ice, when you are chasing after pucks, battling for position, taking your shot, give it all you've got.  Because you get to do that.  You get to try.  You get to put on your equipment, and your skates, and your uniform, and you get to play.  I don't get to do that.  Your parents don't get to do that.  Your coaches don't, and there are a lot of kids out there who don't get to have that chance.

Don't ever doubt yourself.  Don't let anything stop you.  And always do your best."

The Playoffs were on a Friday, Saturday and Sunday.  On Monday, I came in to work, and then we promptly prepared to get everybody working out of the office.  Spring hockey was cancelled, and the rinks were closed.

What I would add to that speech now is: "You never know when it can all be taken away from you, so make every second on ice count."

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We are usually always out going to rinks or ballparks or playgrounds or something, so we were hardly ever home.  When quarantine started, we quickly realized how lucky we were with our house.  Location, location, location.  We are at a dead end street with no traffic (except for lost drivers who don't understand what "No Outlet" means).  

At first, we would just go out with sticks and a green biscuit, using a cone or a bottle as target.  Eventually I got a net.  And then a Better Hockey shooting pad.  I resisted getting these things for a long time because we were always able to find stick time or public skate sessions (and because hockey costs do add up).  However, it actually turned out to be a good thing, and my kid's shooting did improve.  It was good to be able to just calmly coach and correct him without the noise of pucks hitting post and boards and glass and skaters whizzing past you every second.

Later in the spring, when we were ready to progress to skating, I decided to get him in-line skates.  Again, I had avoided these because I wanted to make sure his skating technique was best for ice.  It was actually his head coach who encouraged it on a team Zoom meeting, as in-line takes more effort and strengthens the skating muscles.  But when I looked online, they were either very expensive, back ordered or both.  I decided to check out eBay and was able to find a pair and get it by the next week.

The only issue was that when my kid put the skates on, the buckles immediately broke.  Fortunately, we still had hockey tape, and so I just used that to secure his feet.  This turned out to be a good purchase, too, as he was able to practice stick handling with speed.

And I got a pair for myself.  I hadn't skated in years so I had to readjust.  Now I'm pretty comfortable on them again.  I even took the brake out.  I'm hoping to be a better skater and hockey player overall so hopefully I can be an on-ice coach for my younger one in a few years.  Right now, my older kid's team is good with coaches.  They're a great staff, and we're lucky to have them and I'll write more about that later.

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So anyway.  It's January 1, 2021.  We've been out playing hockey on our street almost everyday since mid-March.  Over 9 months now.

The neighbors know us.  We have lost pucks in their driveways, on other streets and down the drains.  Regular pucks, biscuits, ball pucks.  And some tennis balls.  We have recovered some pucks.  We have come outside to find pucks placed on a chair in our driveway.  We have ripped holes in the net.  We have broken sticks, worn down blades and wore out equipment.  We have hit a passerby (only one time, not on purpose as the puck took a weird bounce off the grass).  We have hit cars (so far no dents or scratches).  We have tripped and fallen and gotten bruises and cuts.  We have been out on nice days, hot and sunny, windy, rainy and even snow.  We have woken up sore many, many days, and then we just went out and did it again.

And well, I was just out there with my kid.  And being there was something that I never got from my own dad when I was a kid.  And tomorrow we will be out there again.

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Here is my kid's goal in the Finals game, off a great pass from the defenseman:

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