| NOTES
FROM A HOCKEY MOM
January 23, 2007
The one thing my daughter was set on doing from
the time she was very small was play hockey.
We started taking her to Phoenix Coyotes games
when she was barely two years old, and she would
mimic the goalie as he warmed up, rotating her
left arm and her right arm along with Khabibulin.
Skating lessons followed. After a series of
classes, the skaters were split into figure
skating and “pre”hockey classes,
and there was never a question as to which course
my little one would choose. She told me, in
no uncertain terms, that she had no desire to
be a “twirl girl.”
The quest for hockey equipment began. I splurged
on her first pair of hockey skates, painful
as it was, and found her helmet on sale at a
local sports equipment chain store. There were
still pads and pants to buy, and thankfully,
the Phoenix area is blessed with “Play
it Again Sports,” and enough of a youth
hockey program in place for there to be a variety
of used hockey equipment to outfit her in style.
The equipment, as expensive as it was, was a
drop in the proverbial bucket, however, when
it came to the total costs of hockey. There
were membership fees and league costs and the
gasoline costs that were part of long trips
to the practice arena twice a week. It reminded
me of the credit card commercials that were
popular a few years ago.
Membership to USA Hockey - $35
Used hockey equipment for pee wee hockey player
- $250
New hockey skates - $125
Hockey stick - $110
One season of house league pee wee hockey -
$750
Seeing my daughter score her first goal –
Priceless
The things that are priceless far outweigh the
costs. I know that for all of us hockey moms,
getting our fledging hockey stars up at odd
hours, spending upwards of 4 hours at the rink
on any given day, and stuffing huge and sometimes
smelly hockey bag into the back seat of our
VW bugs (well, maybe I am the only one that
has to do that) is part of the deal. But having
my daughter get her first penalty of the season
on my birthday, providing me with a Kodak moment
as she sat in the box, was worth the “cost
of admission,” as they say. “I didn’t
trip him, he fell over my stick,” she
claimed. Something I will remind her of for
years to come.
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