This has been a tough week to be an irreverent
hockey mom.
Let’s face it. This has been a tough week to be
a parent.
I don’t even have the heart to fight with my
editor on whether “peckerhead” is an acceptable word, or if it will be watered
down to “jerk” or “poopoo head” when I’m not looking.
And this week, I’m finding it hard to care.
With my own child away at a QMJHL camp, I’ve
been one sip over the limit-away from jumping in the car and driving to Quebec,
several times – just so I could give my smelly beanpole a hug.
Ask any mother who has said goodbye to a kid
this summer. To camp. To Canada Games. University. Europe. The little bastards
you’ve been dying to get rid of, turn and walk toward their dream, leaving
you blubbering in the airport parking lot.
Or in my case, drowning my sorrows with a
Chickenburger dipped in gravy.
Then, Monday morning brought every mother’s
worst fucking nightmare – and “the face” was everywhere.
The serious hockey photo face.
Jordan Boyd’s face.
“Why don’t you smile?” I’ve asked my kid year
after year, when the annual hockey photo appears. "You've just made your dream team, yet you
look like my passport photo."
“You’re not supposed to smile.” He replied.
“Who the hell says?” I asked, blondely.
“I dunno.” He said, mouth full of a post-game
sub.
As the hockey community and beyond now know,
16-year old Jordan Boyd died suddenly – doing exactly what I’d like to be doing
when I die.
Fulfilling a dream.
Climbing Kilimanjaro. Necking with Jon Snow from Game of Thrones.
Cradling a great-grandchild.
So, what – if anything – can we gain from such a heart-wrenching loss?
Mandated heart screening for athletes? The NHL
screens only its top 100 draft picks. I can’t see it happening across lower
levels.
But I think I know what can be learned from
Jordan Boyd.
This otherwise unknown, yet talented young
hockey prospect is now a nationwide hero.
#JB17 is trending on helmets and Twitter feeds,
and “the face” is front-page news for all of the wrong reasons.
Jordan is celebrated as a ‘gentle boy’. A best
friend. A fine, fine young man.
Had Jordan cracked the roster of the Acadie
Bathurst Titan, he would have also been a "rookie". With that accomplishment comes the inevitable
bumps on the road from minor hockey – to the business of major junior hockey.
Suddenly a public figure and 'fair game' –
strangers lurking in rink corners may have called Jordan a ‘pylon’. Soft.
Afraid to go into the corners. They of course, know jack shit.
Cyber bullies hiding behind web handles
like “Banjoboy” or “Habs4ever” would sit in stained tighty whities,
chirping with like-minded underachievers on one of the many “fan” websites
deemed as hockey forums.
Despite never seeing the child play, these
knuckle draggers may have labeled Jordan ‘a disappointment’. A waste of a draft
pick. Or, worse.
And when Acadie Bathurst rolled into Halifax,
die-hard Moosehead fans might have yelled, “pussy!” if Jordan backed down from
a fight to avoid a stupid penalty – never stopping to think that beneath the
helmet was a ‘gentle boy’. Someone’s pride and joy.
If there’s anything we should take from this
soul-numbing tragedy it’s this:
Young hockey players are children – not
commodities – and not targets for your own failed hopes and dreams.
Every kid – elite athlete or otherwise –
deserves the outpouring of love and respect that the entire country is feeling
for Jordan Boyd.
If there’s anything we can take from this week,
maybe it’s the next time you’re at a hockey game – instead of hollering, “Hey,
peckerhead, you afraid to fight?” – say nothing.
Or yell something like, “You’re awesome, gentle
boy”.
I bet his mom – sitting two rows down – would
really appreciate that.
halifaxbroad@gmail.com
