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“Now,” I finish, huffing out a laugh.
Pete watches the guys as they try to trip each other, his expression a little hesitant. “Not all as professional as you, I see,” he says nervously.
I’m going to guess they had a big night. “They’re good guys; they’ll be professional when it counts.”
I hope.
Thankfully, I’m right, and my teammates all are on their best behavior when the families arrive, smiling, shaking hands, playing the parts of the professionals I know they can be. The camera crew may have something to do with that, but I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt.
In fact, we’re all in high spirits until the kids line up in front of us and it’s a struggle to maintain our happy expressions, seeing just how bad some of them have it. Their clothes are too big, or too small. Some of the kids are covered in bruises, while others are too terrified to even be here. These kids are the ones that can’t afford to be part of the local club or don’t have the opportunity to play. Whether it’s because they can’t get here or aren’t allowed…this is a one-off for them. At least, that’s all they know it to be.
I smile and greet everyone as the clinic begins, but while the local coaches are speaking, I sneak away.
“How do I go about funding the club to allow for scholarships or something?” I ask Pippa quietly.
Pippa offers me a sympathetic smile but shakes her head. “You don’t. You can’t fund them all, and it wouldn’t look good for you to be playing favorites.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it. Plenty of sports stars make donations to their junior clubs.”
“Yes, but you’re not talking aboutyourjunior or youth club. You’re talking aboutthisclub. You don’t have a connection here.”
“I do now. I can’t unsee this.”
“It’s happening all over the country. There are disadvantaged children everywhere.”
“Oh, I fucking know that. And if I could help them all, I would. But anything is better than nothing.”
“Let’s talk about it when we get home. For now, just concentrate on what you can give them today.”
I bite back my smile as an idea pops into my head. “Good advice, Pippa. I will.”
Pippa calls out as I head back to the group, undoubtedly having figured out what I’m going to do. If I can’t donate to a team, I can at least donate to those standing before me. So, when it’s our turn to speak, that’s exactly what I do.
“Along with the skills workshop, everyone here will be getting a grant that can be used for anything youth hockey related, whether that’s personal equipment or transport to and from the field. I’ll be talking with officials here to work out the details. And…” I trail off before turning to the parents, “funds willonlybe made available for ice hockey. You won’t be able to access the funds yourself.”
I have no idea how the hell I’m going to make that happen—and judging by Pippa’s groan behind me, it’s not an easy task—but I will make it work.
Little faces light up all around me, while some parents smile and others frown. When I turn around, my teammates are a mixed bag of emotions, with half of them nodding their heads in agreement and the others staring at me like I’m a complete stranger. Which pisses me off, because I have always been generous with my money. I’ve always given back. I just don’t do it so publicly.
Once the excitement’s out of the way, we divide everyone into groups and begin the workshop.
The talent in this arena blows my mind; these kids are incredible. No matter how apprehensive they were when they first got here, all that changed the second they got a stick in their hands. It stems from their passion. I can tell hockey is something that keeps them going, keeps the light in their life. And while it’s beautiful to see, it’s also heartbreaking.
For a while in my life,I was that kid. Running around the yard using a broken tree branch for a stick and an old tennis ball for a puck. Cheering myself on. Dreaming.
These are the players we need in the league, the ones that bleed hockey. It’s their world, their everything.
We spend a lot of our time on solid ground, running through the skills part of the workshop. But once they've proven themselves, we move into the rink and split off into teams, giving them a chance to play a real game.
A few of the kids struggle, and it’s clear they haven’t spent much time on ice, but the harder they try, and the more we encourage, the more their confidence grows. So much so, that I’m pleased to say it’s a competitive game in the end.
“Congratulations! Well done to all of you. Your natural talent, enthusiasm, and passion is unrivaled,” I say when the game ends, needing them to know how awed we all are. “Since it was a draw, you’ll all be getting medals.”We were prepared.“And a ticket to one of our games in San Francisco, with travel.” Again, I have to figure out the logistics of that, but I know it’s possible. “On behalf of all of us on the team, I want to thank you. You’ve shown us what it’s like to truly love the game, and I think I speak for everyone when I say we’ll never forget today. So, use your grants, come and join the team here in Grovedale, and hopefully we’ll see you in the big leagues one day.”
The stadium fills with cheers as the kids all exit the ice with smiling faces. And I get it—I can’t keep mine away either. Knowing we’ve given them an opportunity of a lifetime is everything.
So, after accomplishing one positive thing today, I’m ready for the next.
“Thank you for today, and for the grants. We need fresh blood in our competition here, and these kids were incredible,” Pete says, a grateful smile on his face.
