Hockey mom on thin ice
I think I’ve been fired as a hockey mom. Well, I get to keep the “mom” part, just not the “hockey” part.
Hubby is usually the hockey parent in our home. The exception is tournaments held away. I’m the tournament person (or at least I was). This is because the girls usually want to go shopping, to a movie, to the pool, etc. in between games and hubby’s not really into this stuff. There’s definitely a fun side to a road trip, and our daughter figures I’m better suited to this.
So this past weekend was the annual girls’ hockey tournament in Moncton, which attracts close to 100 teams. That was the weekend they were calling for the “weather bomb” to hit Nova Scotia and New Brunswick. Friday and Saturday the driving wasn’t great, but we got through it. I got lost a few times driving around the city, but only momentarily and we got to our destinations on time. That is, until Sunday.
The team qualified for a playoff game scheduled for Sunday at 8 a.m. The girls had a quick breakfast at 6:45 and we were heading out from the hotel around 7:13. Normally we’d plan to arrive at the rink one hour before game time so the players have lots of time to get dressed and warm up, but given the early morning time and the drive to the arena on the outskirts of the city, we were comfortable cutting that back to about a half hour.
Most of the parents didn’t know how to get to the rink, so they arranged for a convoy of vehicles with the person in-the-know up front. I had been to the same rink the year before, so I knew how to get there from downtown Moncton. I decided to go ahead without the convoy. A row of three or four vehicles that was waiting for the convoy to leave saw me going and figured I was going to lead the way. They followed me. That was an unfortunate mistake.
We were supposed to get on a highway that loops through the city and would bring us to the downtown rotary. From the rotary I knew how to get to the rink. Sadly, I didn’t realize we were supposed to go left on the highway and I went right, which brought us – myself with the three coaches on board and the three other vehicles, carrying about six players – to a different corner of the city.
From there I saw some highway signs that seemed to point to where we wanted to go, so I took another highway. Soon we were surrounded by farmland. The convoy still followed. The clock ticked away. It was 7:35 and I decided to pull over to consult with those behind us. One mother thought she knew how to get downtown from a retail development nearby, so she took the lead and we followed. Then we all got lost again. A second time we pulled off the road to have an impromptu meeting amid the blowing snow. Next a different car took the lead.
Soon we decided to forego the highway system entirely and took a slow city road with lots of traffic lights downtown. Finally we landed in familiar territory. The clock read 7:45. Panic was starting to set in. The head coach in my passenger seat was quiet, with an intense, unhappy look on her face. I decided against small talk.
My daughter’s cell phone rang in the back of the van – it was Hubby. Apparently the parents who made it to the rink on time were starting to panic and a couple called him to see if he knew where I was.
In the van behind us, the passengers had progressed from worry, to panic, to hysterical laughter. (I hear people go through these kinds of phases in times of crisis.) When we arrived at a familiar downtown road, I sped ahead of them on the highway to show the way. I think that’s when the laughter started – they realized that the woman who got everyone lost in the first place had decided to play leader again. Some figured they were in a scene from The Amazing Race.
A few more turns and we landed in the rink’s parking lot. It was 7:57 a.m. The tournament rules say all players have to be dressed and ready to go on the ice 15 minutes before game time.
Thankfully, the referee let the game go on. The big worry at that point was whether the lateness of so many players would cause us to lose the match. Those six girls had to dress fast and missed the warm up. I knew responsibility for a loss could end up on my shoulders, something I wouldn’t want my daughter to endure. So I prayed for victory.
Surprisingly, the girls were on fire that morning. We won 2-0 in a fast-paced match. Then some of the parents remembered that two players had been late arriving for the game we won the day before. For a fleeting moment, they thought that maybe this late thing and the panic that goes with it gave the girls an edge on the ice. They thought that maybe I had been onto something all along. Then they realized the absurdity of the thought, and I went back to being the mom who will never, ever be asked to lead the way again.
And Hubby is starting to warm to the idea of going to tournaments.
