Picture this

Sat. morning. It is 3:30. Coffee pot is brewing. Kids are stumbling out of bed. I am rushing to get their breakfast ready. Must leave the house no later than 5:00. Everything goes to plan. On the road by 5:00. Dark and foggy I drive. My destination is the hockey game somewhere in ass crack PA. The kids promptly fall asleep 15 minutes into the drive. I wonder about the merits of this endeavour. I curse to myself about the zero visibility and the hour of the morning. 2 hours later and it all comes together. The smell of the rink. The chatter of the kids. The feel that this is a perfect morning. Hockey heaven. The dark and dreary morning falls away to the magical feel of the rink. The sound of sticks clanking together. God what a good day. Final preparations are being put together. Coaches insisting on total team effort. Kids buying into it with no questions asked. Parents nervously chirping. They take the ice. Many kids skating as one. The passion in which they play. Taking the body. Covering the man. Filling the gap. It is difficult to believe these are only 9-11 year olds. It is a close checking game. Chances missed. Team defense a premium. Slowly, our kids take over the game. The come back brings the game back to a one goal game. The drama. The beauty. The power. Our kids dominate the other end. Their goalie is up to the task. The play goes the other way. My kid breaks up the play. He passes it to the man streaking up the side. A break away. A deek. A goal. The kids hold on to score another goal and win the game 4-2. Both teams played great. But that doesn't quite describe the effort. To understand, you would have had to been there. In reflection, it was worth waking up for and driving 2 hours through fog and rain. To describe what I witnessed in one word is impossible. Playoff hockey early in the regular season is a start. Maybe the word is magical. But that still does not do to what I experience justice.