In January when my son's West London midget team was in Franklin, TN., for a tournament, I used my "down" time to do a little travel writing. The first of two stories I researched that weekend is published today in the Toronto Sun and posted on canoe.ca. Everyone should visit downtown Nashville at least once - put Music City on your bucket list. There's also more on my travel blog, Wayne's World of Travel.
Minor Hockey Moments
Showing posts with label Franklin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Franklin. Show all posts
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Music City Cup not ours
If the object of out-of-town tournaments is fun, my son's midget team is a big winner. If it's to actually capture the trophy, well, not so much this time.
We drove 11 hours to play in a four-team tournament in Franklin, TN, just outside of Nashville on the weekend and along the way enjoyed being tourists in Nashville, shopping in Franklin and Ohio, a little bit of poker and social drinking, the amazing Famous Dave's BBQ (everyone should eat here) and a couple of excellent Cracker Barrels.
And we played four excellent hockey games against teens from Florida, Texas and Alabama. We won the consolation game and, if I may be so bold, would've won the championship if we didn't have three kids out with injuries, the latest being the son of our manager who damaged his knee early in the first game of the tournament.
No hockey tournament is complete without drama and it seems every time we cross the border for a tournament in the United States, something odd happens.
This time, it was during the final round robin game against South Florida, a team which started the season on a sad note when its coach was killed in a car accident. Players are wearing patches honouring him.
Of course the same players who have the class to honour their coach don't necessarily play the game with honour. Profanities directed to our bench, cut throat gestures and strange comments (the most polite was "Why don't you go home?") were part of the Florida approach.
The strangest thing was when a Florida player skated into a stream of water being spit out by one of our players. The player thought he was the target of a spitball and went to complain to the referee. Neither the referee nor the two linesmen saw a spitball, but believed the Florida kid and tossed our player out of the game. That was followed minutes later by tossing one of our trainers, who happens to be the father of the tossed player, out as well.
We lost the game and maybe respect for all things Florida.
That's the thing about travelling far afield to sports tournaments. You're doing more than playing a game. You're representing your city and country in the eyes of other teams and onlookers. How you act plays a role in the image people form about your home.
We hope we left people in Franklin and Nashville with a positive image of London and Canada. We came away loving Tennessee. Florida? Not so much.
Oh, and congratulations to Houston, winners of the Music City Cup. They beat Florida.
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| West London Hawks midgets pose with manager Larry Heald at Famous Dave's in Franklin, TN. This barbecue restaurant was No. 1 for teens and parents. |
And we played four excellent hockey games against teens from Florida, Texas and Alabama. We won the consolation game and, if I may be so bold, would've won the championship if we didn't have three kids out with injuries, the latest being the son of our manager who damaged his knee early in the first game of the tournament.
No hockey tournament is complete without drama and it seems every time we cross the border for a tournament in the United States, something odd happens.
This time, it was during the final round robin game against South Florida, a team which started the season on a sad note when its coach was killed in a car accident. Players are wearing patches honouring him.
Of course the same players who have the class to honour their coach don't necessarily play the game with honour. Profanities directed to our bench, cut throat gestures and strange comments (the most polite was "Why don't you go home?") were part of the Florida approach.
The strangest thing was when a Florida player skated into a stream of water being spit out by one of our players. The player thought he was the target of a spitball and went to complain to the referee. Neither the referee nor the two linesmen saw a spitball, but believed the Florida kid and tossed our player out of the game. That was followed minutes later by tossing one of our trainers, who happens to be the father of the tossed player, out as well.
We lost the game and maybe respect for all things Florida.
That's the thing about travelling far afield to sports tournaments. You're doing more than playing a game. You're representing your city and country in the eyes of other teams and onlookers. How you act plays a role in the image people form about your home.
We hope we left people in Franklin and Nashville with a positive image of London and Canada. We came away loving Tennessee. Florida? Not so much.
Oh, and congratulations to Houston, winners of the Music City Cup. They beat Florida.
Friday, January 14, 2011
11 hours later
Eleven hours on a bus with a bunch of teenagers isn't all that bad, once you block out the teenagers' choices of DVDs and realize they don't want to watch The Waltons nor listen to country music.
We're on the road in Franklin, TN., and ready to spend a day as tourists (or shoppers) before the tournament begins.
I think we're all missing Tim Hortons, but take comfort in the haul from the duty free.
Here's hoping the hockey competition is good and we win every game by a nailbiting goal or two.
We're on the road in Franklin, TN., and ready to spend a day as tourists (or shoppers) before the tournament begins.
I think we're all missing Tim Hortons, but take comfort in the haul from the duty free.
Here's hoping the hockey competition is good and we win every game by a nailbiting goal or two.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Sniff test
Are all teenage hockey players immune to the stench of their gear?
Getting ready for a weekend tournament in Franklin, Tenn., I offer to wash everything possible from my son's bag.
He insists I just did it last week and it shouldn't have to be done again.
Wrong. That stuff's going to be in our hotel room every night, testing the science behind Febreze. At least we can start the weekend fresh.
For the record, the scent is still lingering in the laundry room.
Getting ready for a weekend tournament in Franklin, Tenn., I offer to wash everything possible from my son's bag.
He insists I just did it last week and it shouldn't have to be done again.
Wrong. That stuff's going to be in our hotel room every night, testing the science behind Febreze. At least we can start the weekend fresh.
For the record, the scent is still lingering in the laundry room.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Tournament time again
There are big tournaments and little tournaments. Tournaments down the street and across the continent. My son's teams have done all kinds.
The most enjoyable and best value was a one-day peewee tournament in my hometown, Clifford. Naturally, city parents in London were initially skeptical about taking the kids to a town of 700. But the perspective of playing in a small town, the matchups, restaurant meal at Greenley's and skills competition made it a most memorable tournaments.
Not that my son played a lot. He became sick on the drive there, missed the opening game, the skills competition and watched the second game.
I was concerned about him - and me. After all, since dads live vicariously through their sons I was so looking forward to watching him play on my "home" rink in front of relatives and some faces from my past.
When his team made the championship late at night, he rallied and played well taking part in a romp over a team from Cambridge.
The trophy the kids won that day has only recently been rotated out of our arena's display case. I think I'll ask if I can have it instead of letting it gather dust somewhere.
Our ying to that yang in terms of tournaments happens this week as my son's team leaves for the most expensive hockey weekend of his career. We've chartered a bus and are off to Franklin, Tennessee, which is a half-hour south of Nashville. The drive is 11 hours, plus however long it takes for more than 40 people to clear U.S. customs.
Hopefully this time my son - and everyone else for that matter - stays healthy for the entire weekend of hockey.
The most enjoyable and best value was a one-day peewee tournament in my hometown, Clifford. Naturally, city parents in London were initially skeptical about taking the kids to a town of 700. But the perspective of playing in a small town, the matchups, restaurant meal at Greenley's and skills competition made it a most memorable tournaments.
Not that my son played a lot. He became sick on the drive there, missed the opening game, the skills competition and watched the second game.
I was concerned about him - and me. After all, since dads live vicariously through their sons I was so looking forward to watching him play on my "home" rink in front of relatives and some faces from my past.
When his team made the championship late at night, he rallied and played well taking part in a romp over a team from Cambridge.
The trophy the kids won that day has only recently been rotated out of our arena's display case. I think I'll ask if I can have it instead of letting it gather dust somewhere.
Our ying to that yang in terms of tournaments happens this week as my son's team leaves for the most expensive hockey weekend of his career. We've chartered a bus and are off to Franklin, Tennessee, which is a half-hour south of Nashville. The drive is 11 hours, plus however long it takes for more than 40 people to clear U.S. customs.
Hopefully this time my son - and everyone else for that matter - stays healthy for the entire weekend of hockey.
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