Wednesday, April 30, 2014

My Honor II

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 


  1. What a wonderful tribute to your son! Class Act all the way!

  2. The appropriate-age girl in me is swooning. What a guy.