When I was growing up in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, there were few things I spent more time doing than playing hockey. Like so many of the kids in my town, I entertained dreams of someday playing in the NHL, making a name for myself on the biggest stages and brightest lights the world of ice hockey had to offer.
Ultimately, it was not to be. I pushed and struggled against the bounds of my own physical shortcomings, but work ethic can only get you so far in sports.
That, and I was screwed over by my own birth date.
You see, the way age groups in youth hockey are defined is strictly by the year of birth. People born in 1986 were one group, people in '87 another, and so on and so forth. Under this system, someone born in January of one year is placed in the same group as someone born in December, nearly a full year's difference in age, and of course, physical development.
I fell into the latter category, which only compounded the fact that I wasn't very big or athletic to begin with. That being said, I always had this notion that even with all of the challenges I faced, I could become something with simple work and drive.
Call it the 'romantic movie syndrome for athletes.' Think about it: I tend to criticize people who believe too much in the romantic fairy tales of perfection perpetuated in the media. We are a group of individuals raised on Disney, with this idea that Prince Charming is going to sweep in and take the damsel from trouble to a beautiful castle and happiness ever after. So we think "wow, am I not worth that trouble as well?" and we wait and wait...and wait. Eventually we realize that there is no Prince Charming, and what's worse, we've spent so much time waiting for perfection that we've missed out on the real valuable people in life: the ones who's messes and scars we see and know well, but somehow manage to stick around with us.
But I digress. The point is, I may criticize this sort of behavior, but young athletes are raised on this too. Rudy, Hoosiers, The Mighty Ducks. All uplifting, and your team always wins against incredible odds. Young athletes watch these movies, and are instilled with passion and fire to accomplish a goal so few ever will even taste, so much as fulfill.
Not to say that one shouldn't dream of course. It's a tenuous balance I feel, to dream and to understand one's own penchant for failure.
Regardless, I've signed up to play hockey again here, in order to reconnect with the sport that plays a large role in who I am today. While I haven't skated in years, the discipline, the desire, the drive all have stayed with me from the days I tempered with early morning practices and late night conditioning sessions. While ultimately, the work didn't bring my abilities to a high enough levels to even make it to College hockey, I learned a lot along the way.
Hopefully, hockey now can serve a new purpose for me: help me maintain my sanity.
Ultimately, it was not to be. I pushed and struggled against the bounds of my own physical shortcomings, but work ethic can only get you so far in sports.
That, and I was screwed over by my own birth date.
You see, the way age groups in youth hockey are defined is strictly by the year of birth. People born in 1986 were one group, people in '87 another, and so on and so forth. Under this system, someone born in January of one year is placed in the same group as someone born in December, nearly a full year's difference in age, and of course, physical development.
I fell into the latter category, which only compounded the fact that I wasn't very big or athletic to begin with. That being said, I always had this notion that even with all of the challenges I faced, I could become something with simple work and drive.
Call it the 'romantic movie syndrome for athletes.' Think about it: I tend to criticize people who believe too much in the romantic fairy tales of perfection perpetuated in the media. We are a group of individuals raised on Disney, with this idea that Prince Charming is going to sweep in and take the damsel from trouble to a beautiful castle and happiness ever after. So we think "wow, am I not worth that trouble as well?" and we wait and wait...and wait. Eventually we realize that there is no Prince Charming, and what's worse, we've spent so much time waiting for perfection that we've missed out on the real valuable people in life: the ones who's messes and scars we see and know well, but somehow manage to stick around with us.
But I digress. The point is, I may criticize this sort of behavior, but young athletes are raised on this too. Rudy, Hoosiers, The Mighty Ducks. All uplifting, and your team always wins against incredible odds. Young athletes watch these movies, and are instilled with passion and fire to accomplish a goal so few ever will even taste, so much as fulfill.
Not to say that one shouldn't dream of course. It's a tenuous balance I feel, to dream and to understand one's own penchant for failure.
Regardless, I've signed up to play hockey again here, in order to reconnect with the sport that plays a large role in who I am today. While I haven't skated in years, the discipline, the desire, the drive all have stayed with me from the days I tempered with early morning practices and late night conditioning sessions. While ultimately, the work didn't bring my abilities to a high enough levels to even make it to College hockey, I learned a lot along the way.
Hopefully, hockey now can serve a new purpose for me: help me maintain my sanity.
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