Playing for the Toronto Maple Leafs

How lucky I was to be born in a country that has so much opportunity. Anybody can aspire to become anything. The dreams of a young boy are not just dreams, because pathways exist that enable the fulfillment of even the most ambitious of the dreamers. When I was a young boy around the age of nine, my head was full of dreams. I dreamed of the future and where life would take me. I dreamed that, I could become an astronaut, or a movie star, a race car driver, I even dreamed that, someday, I could become the president of the United States of America, even though I was born and lived in Canada.

I had no idea that hockey was my nation's national pastime, but my family sure the hell knew it.

Every Saturday night my family all gathered around the TV set to yell at the weekly broadcast of, "Hockey Night in Canada". They were so passionate about the game, the teams, and the players. The living room would be filled to capacity for the game. My Grandparents' house was the best place to watch a game. Grandpa was the first one on his street to have his own television set. Then when it was commonplace for most families to own a television set, Grandpa set the bar even higher by purchasing the first color set to be sold in Winnipeg (true story). To this very day, people talk of how they loved the Saturday night gatherings at my Grandparents' home to watch "Hockey Night In Canada".  The atmosphere was electric. Every seat was taken, and there was rarely an open spot on the floor. The whole family including friends and neighbors would all cheer frantically for their favorite team.


It was during a heated tilt between, "The Boston Bruins" and "The Montreal Canadians" over at my Grandparents' house that I decided that I would play hockey in the National Hockey League, and be a star for my family and friends all to cheer for. I had dreams of how they would all wear hockey jerseys, with my name on the back, and boast to their friends and co-workers of how they knew me since I was a young boy.

The very next day I asked my mother if I could join a hockey team. Moms reply was the standard, " there are six of you kids, I can not afford hockey equipment for six kids. I can't let you play hockey because if I let you play hockey then everyone will want to play hockey and I can not afford hockey equipment for six kids".

I started my hockey career without parental consent. I quizzed a school friend who played hockey and found out that there was a game being held on Saturday morning at 9:00 am. I would need skates a hockey stick and a helmet to play. I already had a stick and skates and was able to find an antiquated leather helmet, it was at least twenty years old, but that was all that I needed to play. I could hardly wait for Saturday to come, I was going to be a star.

I was able to get the coach to pencil my name in on the players' sheet and I was given a jersey. I was assigned to "The Toronto Maple leafs" of the House League. There I was suited up in my hockey get-up, participating in the pre-game skate, preparing to face off against, "The Boston Bruins". I was doing some of my best ice skating when I noticed the coach was calling me over to the bench. I was a bit put out when I discovered he was directing me to get off the ice. I thought I would play the whole game, I was not aware there would be this sharing of the playtime. I stood on the side of the rink next to the coach and started into my mantra, "when do I play, when do I play". The Coach asked me to go wait on the opposite side of the bench. Over on the other side of the bench, one of my fellow Maple Leafs was being coached by his older brother. The older brother was saying things like, skate fast, go for the puck, don't be scared to get in there, fight for the puck, go wild.

Lucky he's on our team I thought.

Then the coach was making some player changes, the "go wild" kid got his chance to play, but not me. Coach gave me a nod and said,"you go in next change."

Next change I was going in, hitting the ice for my first shift, starring it up for my adoring fans. Then everything changed.

The "go wild" kid took a golf swing-style headshot with his two hands gripping his hockey stick like you would a baseball bat. The stick made contact with the head of some "Boston Bruin" kid's head. The stick made contact in the only place his helmet offered no protection, and he went down like a sack of potatoes, along with the spirit of every person in attendance.  I looked on in disbelief, as the Boston Bruin kid was escorted from the ice by a couple of adults, to a waiting ambulance. His Bruin's jersey was blood-soaked.

I was no longer anxious to get on the ice and play, I thought in fact that the game would or should be canceled. Yes, the game should be canceled, I thought as I slipped off my Toronto Maple leaf jersey and began my walk home, through the snow wearing my skates. I looked back and saw that they had indeed resumed playing their game. But that's what it was now. It was their game. Not mine.

At school, the following Monday, I saw the Boston Bruin kid. It surprised me to see him. I assumed he would have been hospitalized indefinitely. He told me, he had to get fourteen stitches in his head. He also said, "he would be able to play again by Saturday".
I wished him luck in his hockey career. Not a career I would ever choose.

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This is an excellent example of the naive boy dreaming of success and then discovering the price of stardom.
One of the aspects I noted in the work is the way you draw the reader in with your description of the family focus on the sport of hockey and the atmosphere in the house. It shows the reader how important the sport was in your childhood environment and sets up the rest of your motivations in the piece.
Overall your chosen nonfiction experience shows your complete comprehension of the epiphany concept and how they often turn out to be the wrong path. Plus, this was a truly pleasurable read for me as the instructor.

Diane

Lesson 3, part one: A+