My Hockey Journey

Growing up on Long Island, NY, in the late '80s and early '90s, I was an active kid, deeply immersed in the world of sports. At a young age I always had either a football or baseball in my hand. But it wasn't until the second grade when I first heard the thrilling clatter of skates on ice and saw the adrenaline-pumping action of the game called hockey. Although I had a couple of friends who played, hockey was a sport shrouded in mystery and expense, difficult to access for many families, including mine.

My first live NHL experience came when my dad took me to Nassau Coliseum on a field trip with the church alter boys to see the once great NY Islanders in action. I can't recall the opponent or the final score, but the vivid memories of the player introductions, the arena plunging into darkness, the pulsating music, and the players storming out of the tunnel are etched in my mind. The sheer speed, intensity, and physicality of the game captivated me completely.

I remember discussing my newfound passion with my parents, expressing a desire to learn to play. However, they presented me with a stark choice: I could try hockey or play every other sport I was already engaged in. At that time, I was juggling baseball, basketball, and was even lobbying to join a football team. Reluctantly, I set aside my hockey dreams. My love for the sport had to be channeled through watching the Islanders' often painful performances on TV, playing NHL video games on my Sega Genesis, and engaging in spirited street hockey games with neighborhood friends. I continued to pursue various organized sports—baseball, basketball, football, and lacrosse—until a severe bout of pneumonia in my sophomore year of high school forced me to step away from athletics.

Despite my own halted athletic pursuits, I remained a dedicated Islanders fan, enduring relentless ribbing from my Ranger-supporting uncles. Regretfully never having the chance to experience the thrill of playing hockey myself.

Fast forward to 2019: I’m now married to an incredible woman and have a wonderful five-year-old son. With my own childhood steeped in organized sports, I assumed my son would naturally gravitate towards them too. We tried little league baseball, but after two seasons of him picking daisies in the outfield, he lost interest. Then, our local rink offered a "learn to play" clinic, complete with full equipment and ten weeks of instruction at an affordable price. Seeing this as an opportunity to live out my hockey dream through my son, I persuaded him to give it a shot. After his first session, he enjoyed it and showed promise.

Over the next year, he participated in additional clinics and focused hockey skating lessons. Not wanting to miss out, I bought new skates, a stick, helmet, and gloves, and joined him for stick and puck sessions at the rink. It was some of the most fun I had experienced in years. Then, the pandemic hit, and everything shut down. When restrictions lifted, I encouraged him to rejoin a learn-to-play session. Though he still enjoyed it, he was reluctant to commit to a team. I suggested a local house league, which he did well in but increasingly resisted. It became clear that his passion lay elsewhere. Although I was initially disappointed, I had to confront whether my disappointment was for him or for myself. My son had other talents and interests; my desire for him to succeed in hockey was more about my unfulfilled dream than his true passion.

In 2022, I saw an advertisement at our local rink for a program called "3rd Line Dads." Every Thursday night, a diverse group of men, ranging from novices to seasoned players, gathered for an hour of power skating drills, hockey IQ exercises, and scrimmages. This was my chance to fulfill a long-held dream, but I was apprehensive. At 40 years old, grappling with health issues—type 1 diabetes diagnosed in my early 30s—and carrying over 300 pounds on my 5'11" frame, I worried about the physical strain and potential embarrassment. Yet, my desire to play outweighed my fears. After a thorough stress test, my cardiologist gave me the green light.

I bought the remaining equipment I needed and signed up. I showed up at the rink the first night with crippling anxiety. I arrived early, alone in the locker room, and as others began to trickle in, their friendliness eased my nerves. On the ice, I encountered players of varying skill levels—from seasoned veterans to fellow beginners. That first session left me utterly exhausted and sore, but also incredibly proud. I managed to keep up and didn’t embarrass myself completely. Afterward, I joined the guys upstairs for a few beers, basking in the camaraderie.

For a year and a half, I participated weekly. The core group of players, all of us starting out as beginners, steadily improved. The support and dedication from this group were unparalleled. This experience significantly impacted my physical and mental health. I began shedding weight and found a valuable outlet for clearing my mind.

I'm proud to say that our group built up our skills enough to start our own team. As of this writing, we are wrapping up our second season in our local beer league. Playing hockey has not only fulfilled a lifelong dream but also enriched my life in countless ways. It's been especially beneficial for my mental health. Most of my life I have struggled with anxiety and depression. While therapy and medication have helped me manage my conditions, it wasn't until I started playing hockey that I found something that so positively impacted how I felt. The sport’s demands and community have become integral to my well-being, offering both physical benefits and a crucial mental outlet.

I’ve pondered what makes hockey so addictive and beneficial for mental health. Here’s what I’ve discovered:

Continuous Skill Development: Mastering hockey requires constant refinement of skills. From skating to stick handling, shooting, passing, and defense, each component demands dedicated practice. This complexity keeps players engaged and constantly challenged.

Physical Demands: Hockey is incredibly physically demanding. There’s being in shape, and then there’s being in hockey shape. Even the fittest individuals struggle with the sport’s unique physicality. A brief hiatus from playing makes it clear how quickly one can lose their edge. Though adult leagues typically avoid checking, contact is still a significant aspect.

Mental Challenges: The game is high-pressure; unlike other sports there is no out of bounds, you either run into the boards or an opponent. Players must make split-second decisions under intense conditions. Because of this, hockey is game that is played on raw emotion. The emotional highs and lows, combined with the need to keep those emotions in check, make hockey both exhilarating and mentally taxing.

Camaraderie and Sportsmanship: The hockey locker room fosters a unique bond. Whether it’s pre-game banter, post-loss consolation, or celebrating victories, the sense of unity is palpable. The post-game handshake line, despite the physical and emotional intensity of the game, reflects a deep mutual respect. And of course, sharing a drink after a game or practice, swapping stories, and connecting on a personal level adds to the experience.