It’s been many seasons since these tired eyes have seen the inside of a hockey arena at 10 a.m. on a Sunday.
But they did this past weekend, when the Princeton Atom Posse hosted the three day district championship tournament.
Strictly speaking, this was not a work assignment.
The Spotlight employs super duper shutterbug Bob Marsh to take all its hockey pictures.
He’s as good as any full-time sports photographer in the business, so the event was well covered.
Attendance was an exercise, unbelievably, in recreation.
The DeMeer hockey players are all grown up.
Chatted with the eldest, later in the day.
He’s a kid who hung up his skates at the age of 15 in order to pursue part-time employment and girls.
“Mom?” he asked. “Why would you randomly show up at some hockey tournament where you don’t know any of the kids or even really know their parents?
“It sounds kind of…”
Oh, what descriptor could he have used?
Nice? Fun? Entertaining?
The word he eventually settled on was “pathetic.”
And maybe there is some truth to that.
Minor hockey ran the DeMeer family for close on a decade, 12-months out of the year.
Regular season, playoffs, hockey camp, summer league, three-on-three – been there, done that, got the VISA bill.
Is Christmas this year home, or away?
Those were the days.
When they finally wound down, we never thought we would miss it.
Sure there were lots of great experiences.
But we were exhausted, psychologically fractured, sick of traveling and coaches and referees and parents from our teams and parents from other teams.
Thousands of dollars of equipment went on the front lawn as part of a glorious and liberating yard sale, and that night Mom and Dad sat in the hot tub and toasted each other with bubbly.
Here’s to having a life again.
Said eldest son on Sunday night: “Wow Mom, you really don’t have a life, do you?”
This much is true – the hockey in Princeton on the weekend comprised my favorite tournament ever, by far.
Aside from the obvious – it wasn’t costing any money save for a few 50-50 tickets – it can be a revelation to watch kids play hockey when none of them share your DNA.
Holy crap. Did you know that there are 12 players on the ice at most times?
Never really appreciated that, when a DeMeer kid was out there.
Watching minor hockey can even be relaxing, when it’s not your child at center, or in net.
Once-upon-a-nervous breakdown there were finals, and championships, when the pressure was unbearable. And I spent those games in the parking lot, in the car, madly texting Mr. DeMeer.
What’s happening now?
Did they score?
How much time left?
This irritated Hockey Dad to be sure, particularly as for some of those games he was on the bench and trying to run the door.
Those little nine and ten-year-olds brought back some intense memories, on the weekend.
And certainly there was an emotional investment in the home team. Go Posse Go, right?
But the energy and passion of the real hockey moms surrounding me was too much of a reminder of the time and the birthdays that have past since that period of our lives.
It sure felt good though to holler and clap and follow the action, all the while knowing I didn’t have to get anyone undressed when it was all over, and wasn’t going to have to endure a play-by-play recap in the car on the way home.