This time last year, at the end of the hockey season, I wrote a post about my oldest non-T1 son (My Honor). I want to do it again. But this year I want to pause my regular T1 rantings to write a post about my middle non-T1 son, Cole. (He is going to kill me, so I am intentionally going to keep this one short.)
This year Cole made the Bantam A hockey team (the same team
his older brother won the championship with last year.) This team had a great season and they reached
the playoffs with a 19 game winning streak.
The boys were eager to start the playoffs. The championship felt in reach. Their expectations were high.
Fast-forwarding to the championship game, their team had the
lead entering the third period, 1 to 0. Then came the last 2 minutes. A lot can happen in the last 2 minutes of a
hockey game, and it did. A couple bad
bounces and the other team scored 2 goals.
My heart sank. The boys had
worked so hard, but the championship had slipped away. After the buzzer the other team threw off
their gloves and celebrated. With their heads
low and their shoulders slumped our team skated back to their bench.
The league officials skated to the center ice with their
boxes of trophies. Each team then lined
up on their blue line and waited for the presentation. Since we lost, our coach took the microphone
first to hand out the dreaded 2nd place trophies. The first 2 players called up from our team
had been injured earlier in the season and weren’t able to skate that day, so
they carefully shuffled across the ice to shake the coach’s hand, receive
their trophies and then shuffle back to their place in line. The next player called
up was Cole. He skated up to the coach
shook his hand, accepted his trophy and then paused. My mommy-sense was tingling. I knew he was up to something. Then instead of skating back to the end of
his team’s line he skated over to the other team and he shook each player’s
hand and congratulated them on their win, only then returning to his place in line.
Then as each player was called up they too followed his lead and
congratulated the winning team.
After the game, as we were driving home, I asked Cole, “Did coach
ask you to congratulate the other team after he had handed you your trophy? “
He said, “No. I was
nervous. I stopped and thought about it
and wasn’t sure what to do next. But I
decided it was the right thing to do.”
With a very full mommy-heart, and a lump in my throat, I
said, “You were right. That was the
right thing to do. You are a brave
boy. I am not sure I would have been as
brave as you.”
This year the championship game didn’t end with the same
glory as last year. But sometimes, you
learn more from losing. And I learned
that Cole knows what’s right and is willing to take the lead when called
upon. He is a class act. And again this year I state ... I am honored. I am honored to call this classy hockey player, my son. (And yes, there really are classy hockey players. I know a whole team full!)
Cole, I kept it short.
I hope that wasn’t too embarrassing.
Love you, Mom