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.