The Hockey Coach

By Jennifer Litke

Courage is fire, and bullying is smoke.

~Benjamin Disraeli

My second son, Derek, was in the first grade and was having difficulties in school. His teacher was hard on him because he was the funny one; he always had to be telling a joke and his humour tended to be on the physical side. He would jump up on chairs or try to do back flips in class in order to get attention. And he did get attention, just not the kind that he was hoping for. He was being bullied.

Each day he would come home upset. He was afraid to go to school; he would refuse to get up in the morning, his eating patterns changed and he became very thin and pale. His smile faded as the weeks of bullying turned into months. The school did everything they could to help us but the bullying continued.

It was late February when things changed for Derek. He was walking home from school and it was dreadfully cold. His hat had been stolen and his snow pants were soaking wet after he had been shoved into a puddle. Our neighbour Cody, who had only recently finished high school, spotted Derek walking home from the bus and noticed how cold he was. He ran out of his house straight away and wrapped Derek up in a warm, wool blanket. Cody walked the rest of the way up the street and knocked on the door to speak to me. I saw how sad Derek was and I fell to my knees to hug him and help warm him up.

I wasn't sure if he was bored, or he was just simply an amazing kid, but Cody offered to spend some time with Derek every day after school. Cody waited at the bus stop for Derek to get home from school and he took him out on excursions. At first I didn't know where they went, but Cody had him home promptly at six. Initially there was no change in Derek, but after three days he came to me and asked me if I would buy him a pair of hockey skates. I looked at him; his little six-year old expression was serious as he waited for my reply. I smiled and said, "Alright." For the first time in as long as I could remember, his face lit up with the biggest smile. My heart melted and I knew that something great was happening for my son.

After I bought those skates for Derek, he spent every day with Cody learning to skate and learning to manoeuvre a hockey stick across the ice. A few times Cody allowed me to come to the arena in order to witness the skill Derek had acquired in only a few short weeks. I could hear Derek's laugh as he joked with Cody on the ice. It was music to my ears.

At the end of March, Cody asked if Derek could play in a hockey game. Cody was an assistant coach for the house-league hockey association in town, and he had special permission to allow Derek to play in one of the final games of the season. We were hesitant because we knew that Derek had only just learned to skate, and we were afraid of him getting hurt. But Cody assured us that he would be right there the whole time.

The day of the game we were so nervous for our little boy. But Derek had gotten up early that day, had eaten his breakfast in front of the fireplace and was half dressed by the time we got up that morning. As a family we all piled into the van and drove to the arena. Anxiously we waited for the game to begin. Cody took care of everything. He had a hockey sweater waiting for Derek and all of the equipment he would need. All suited up and ready to go, Derek joined the rest of Cody's team in their box.

Derek sat on the bench for the entire first period. We weren't sure why and we could see Derek's smile fade slowly as the game wore on. My eldest son whispered in my husband's ear during the second period and afterward got up and walked around to the other side of the ice in order to speak to Cody. By this point Derek was nearly in tears as Cody urged him to go onto the ice.

Derek was timid as he skated around during that second period. When he was on the ice he stayed far away from all of the other players, and steered clear of the puck. By this point I wasn't sure I even understood why Cody had wanted him to play in the first place. My "mom" instincts were kicking in and I wanted to get my son off that ice.

The third period looked like it would be much of the same. Despite my yelling and encouragement from the stands, Derek remained far away from the action. Slowly two players from the other team had made their way over to where Derek was skating, and they tripped Derek, causing him to fall on the ice. As his head hit the ice, his mouth guard fell out and he bit his lip. Blood was flowing from his bottom lip and dripping down the front of him. The events unfolded in slow motion and I stood up screaming like a mad woman.

My eldest son pulled on my sleeve and tried to get my attention, but I was more concerned about what was happening with Derek. The referee placed the two players in the penalty box and then directed Derek to the opposing team's net. The referee dropped the puck in front of him and pointed toward the net. I glanced quickly at the scoreboard and realized that there was very little time left in the last period and the game was tied. (Scores didn't really make much difference in this age category, but it was our movie-magic moment so I mention it for that reason). I was still on my feet as I watched my son positioned directly in front of the net, and slowly my son took aim, lifted his stick in order to shoot that puck into the net. I had never seen Derek use that much concentration. The puck flew effortlessly past the goalie and right into the net, and the goal was awarded to Derek's team. After a few more minutes of play, the period was over and Derek had scored the winning goal. The sound of the cheers and applause from the stands made Derek smile and laugh as he skated off the ice.

After the game my eldest son finally got my attention, and it was then that he told me that the two boys who had tripped Derek were the two bullies who had been tormenting him all year in school. They were brothers who rode on the same bus as Derek. As I stood outside the change room waiting for Derek to come out, their father approached me in order to apologize for his sons' behaviour. We told him what had been happening all year and he promised that he would make it right.

Derek was not bullied again after that day. We witnessed our son's smile and sense of humour return, and we look back and realize that if it had not been for the selfless efforts of a young teenage boy and the game of hockey, our son might never have found his humour again. Cody continued to coach Derek long after that hockey game, and when Cody left for college that fall he left behind a young boy who could stick handle with the best of them, a boy with confidence and a killer punch line!

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