The "Stanley Cup" of wives...

USA Hockey is a well oiled machine. (No Chubbs - not a GOLD machine but please, no need to rub salt in that wound, eh?) Nonetheless, all things “organized hockey” in these United States runs through them. The “machine” has not known of my whereabouts since my old coaching days of the Bemidji State Women’s Club team. Since my move to East Central Minnesota some 10 years ago, I thought I had escaped USA Hockey. Folks in the youth program here in Pine City routinely asked me to join their coaching ranks and I routinely responded that I wouldn’t coach hockey again until or if my kids even chose to play...

Well USA Hockey - here I am - the check is in the mail. I bring to your sacrificial alter the children of my loin.

On my living room floor rests 2 hockey bags loaded with gloves and breezers, shin pads and elbow pads, chest protectors and helmets. Gear so sparkling new with their tags still attached that you couldn’t possibly imagine the stench you’ve come to expect to accompany such equipment bags. We’re now responsible for 10 fund raising calendars, 20 hours of concession stand service and an upcoming season of wearing another coaching whistle in yet another sport.

In the late winter of 2001 while our relationship was in the earliest stages of courtship, Michele officially watched her first full hockey game from the drop of the puck to the final horn. I was playing in a tournament at St.Cloud State as the woman of my dreams quietly took in the sights and sounds of the National Hockey Center. Since that weekend, we have married. She has attended a handful of other games at different levels including the state tourney and random holiday games in Hockeytown, USA. She’s bought her own pair of hockey skates and then relegated them to full time basement duty. She has dutifully stood by as we’ve bought sticks and skates, played shinny in the streets and even hung pictures of the Stanley Cup in the house. Michele has politely accepted that I love hockey and gently reminded me that she doesn’t.

So it comes with sincere appreciation of what my dear wife had to endure this evening as she signed up her two babies for the Pine City Youth Hockey program. Sitting in the meeting as a family, I can only imagine that Michele felt marooned on a remote FROZEN island as the daughter that she silently wished was spiking balls onto the hardcourt tried on the equipment of winter gladiators. Coaches scrambled to find shin pads and breezers small enough for our 4 year old freckle-faced son and I finally sensed the new Hockey Mom crack as she caught a peak of Logan’s perma-grin from inside his disproportionately large helmet.

My wife is generally always in control and hard to read sometimes. She typically looks like she could be “running the show” no matter the time or place. But tonight, I know she was out of her element... out of her comfort zone. I fully expect her to milk this for all that it’s worth. I know she hates the cold. I know she dreams of sandy beaches and fruity drinks when the weather dips below 70 degrees. I know that she didn’t grow up in Warroad nor does she think anyone normal ever has. She doesn’t love hockey.

But she does love her kids. And they want to do this.
So the papers are signed. The hoops have been jumped through. The gear fits. Well, mostly fits. All that’s left to do is put on a pot of Hot Chocolate and break out the ear muffs.

I love you, Michele. You’re the prettiest Hockey Mom I have ever seen.

***As a side note: Kirby on the other hand was in  his element. Socializing with all the other hockey dads as if they were a group of women shopping for shoes at DSW.  At one point, I had to pull him out of a conversation so he could help me figure out what equipment was needed for our children as the sports I play-you only need yourself!
Out of my element-yes....
happy for my excited children to try something new-yes.....
watching Kirby act like a little kid getting his first pair of skates and hockey stick....PRICELESS!