Strange things can happen in juvenile hockey, like me finding myself back behind the bench for the first time in years as assistant door swinger and crafter of words of encouragement.
Not counting 3-on-3, I think the last time I took to the bench was seven or eight years ago when the coach was suspended during an exhibition game in Waterloo for asking my son, Adam, if his glasses were OK. Turned out the comment came after a controversial call against our team and the referee's name was also Adam.
I ended up behind the bench last night after the coach's regular 2IC opted to take a client to the major junior Knights game, where the teenagers play at a slightly higher tempo than the juvenile kids.
Not that I object to that, especially when I can't hide behind the glass as sane observers of hockey do.
I made it clear to our defence corps that their No. 1 job was to make sure I wasn't hit by a puck. Juvenile being what it is, shots off the boards don't always go where they are intended. Or, come to think of it, maybe they do.
Pucks to the head were on my mind because before the game I ran into a longtime kids' sports volunteer who's both a cop with lightning-fast reflexes and a trainer. A couple of years ago, he got bopped with a puck off the forehead, creating quite a flood and sending others rummaging through his first aid kit.
Last year, the head coach ducked in time so that his assistant coach, who usually has cat-like reflexes, could take a puck to the noggin. Shots by major midgets have a lot of zip.
Fortunately, last night our defence did its job and no pucks made it to the bench. Of course, we lost the game ... but you have to set your priorities.
Not counting 3-on-3, I think the last time I took to the bench was seven or eight years ago when the coach was suspended during an exhibition game in Waterloo for asking my son, Adam, if his glasses were OK. Turned out the comment came after a controversial call against our team and the referee's name was also Adam.
I ended up behind the bench last night after the coach's regular 2IC opted to take a client to the major junior Knights game, where the teenagers play at a slightly higher tempo than the juvenile kids.
Not that I object to that, especially when I can't hide behind the glass as sane observers of hockey do.
I made it clear to our defence corps that their No. 1 job was to make sure I wasn't hit by a puck. Juvenile being what it is, shots off the boards don't always go where they are intended. Or, come to think of it, maybe they do.
Pucks to the head were on my mind because before the game I ran into a longtime kids' sports volunteer who's both a cop with lightning-fast reflexes and a trainer. A couple of years ago, he got bopped with a puck off the forehead, creating quite a flood and sending others rummaging through his first aid kit.
Last year, the head coach ducked in time so that his assistant coach, who usually has cat-like reflexes, could take a puck to the noggin. Shots by major midgets have a lot of zip.
Fortunately, last night our defence did its job and no pucks made it to the bench. Of course, we lost the game ... but you have to set your priorities.
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