I really can’t hear that anymore…
Yes…I know. I play hockey every week. Luckily, there is no checking in the women’s league. Well…at least, not intentionally…
I don’t really open my mouth that much at my older son’s games. Shocking. I know. Have you ever yelled directly into a wall? That’s what it’s like when you yell at the glass in a hockey game. You look like a fucking idiot. I try not to do that. Besides, no one on the ice can hear you. But, sometimes, our emotions get the best of us. At that point, you don’t care what you look like. My emotions are flying high, especially, when hitting occurs at a high rate of speed.
So, what’s worse? Being the parent of the child that is hurt or the parent of the child that hurt the other child.
Ok…I use the term, “child,” loosely. I mean, they are 16. A bunch of testosterone filled 16 year old boys. But still. Last week, at my son’s high school hockey game, he checked an opponent into the boards. A shoulder to shoulder check is legal. The ref told me it was a perfectly legal hit. But still.
He lies face down. Not moving. Imagine the sinking feeling I’m getting in my gut right now. I can’t move. I’m in shock. No one and I mean no one in that rink is moving. All eyes are on this boy. Wondering if he will move. Moving anything. His arms, his skates, his helmet. Anything. Nothing. The trainer is over there assessing the situation. I hear a woman sobbing. I’m guessing it’s either his mother or grandmother. The shame I’m feeling right now. Are my feelings appropriate? Do I walk over to her and apologize? That would be awkward. I think?
His father walks onto the ice. We can’t hear anything. All we see is the ref pointing to the door telling him to get off the ice. It’s against USA Hockey rules. Not sure what he said, but in about 30 seconds flat, he was kneeling beside his son. Still not moving.
At this point, the paramedics are called. Within 5 minutes, a stretcher is on the ice. I start to feel worse. Way worse. I can’t control the tears coming down my face. As the paramedics turn him over onto the flat board, it is dead silent in the rink. All you can hear is this kid screaming in pain. Sobbing. The pain is so great that the only thing he can do is cry. And so do I. I don’t know him. But I can feel his tremendous pain as the stretcher rolls past me into the ambulance. It’s still dead quiet in there.
Oh…this is so painful…it’s not my son that’s hurt. It’s someone I don’t even know. But my son caused this. Was it all worth it? That seemingly meaningless hit?
It’s just part of the game, right?
Picture courtesy of Steve Gwinn
