Growing up as a kid my lifelong dream was to be a professional athlete. I probably hoped to play for the Mets baseball team AND the Islanders hockey team. I can’t say which I would have loved more, because I truly wanted both. I never played hockey as a kid and now that I am an adult I understand the expensive reasons why. I did play baseball up until the last year I possibly could without making a school team.
That was the first time I woke up. I remember that final tryout during my freshman year of high school, I remember not doing well and when I didn’t see my name on the callback sheet, I knew I’d never look at a list like that again. I still played softball and played extremely well when I did for a bunch of years after that. Not to brag, but you want me on your team. I don’t hit for power, I hit for average, I’m fast, and I take great pride in my infield skills. I’ve even on occasion gone to the batting cages and knocked the hell out of pitches in the 90+ max speed cage. From a live overhand pitcher though, not since I was 14. Needless to say, the Mets haven’t called.
One down, one more lingered.
Even though I didn’t start playing hockey in anything organized, I still had the dream, although the odds were quite honestly non-existent. I was young and dumb. I lived in an area that was about 3 hours from the nearest ice rink. Maybe, I don’t really know. Regardless, once I moved down to my current home I got on to the college roller hockey team. I don’t really remember how, but I became the goalie for the team and I just did it. I did pretty good too, we won one regional championship and runner up the next year. We made two trips to nationals and fared less than well to say the least, but it was a great experience.
I love the pressure of being a goalie. Games are won and lost on my shoulders more than any other player on the bench. I’ve pulled myself to better the team when I didn’t have it. I’ve won games, and even league championships by making the final save in a shootout to win. I love the pressure and no one is harder on myself than myself when I make a mistake. I always accept my mistakes. The only thing missing from my hockey career is a coach. I’ve never for a day had a coach. I learned the position from watching the pros on TV very carefully and asked players who beat me what they saw when they scored.
I remember sitting in that locker room at nationals after we were eliminated the last time. I remember looking around knowing that would be the last time I wore my school uniform and maybe last chance I’d get “noticed” by any teams. I know, stupid right?
After that I made the switch to ice and after about a year of rec league play, things started looking up. It turned out my local town was getting a new minor league team. On a whim, I made contact with the newly named head coach and he liked my email so much, he asked me to come in for a meeting. At that meeting I told him where I’d played, my collegiate story and what not when the unthinkable happened. He signed me to a tryout agreement. There I was, sitting in a little office with a professional hockey team head coach and signing my name to an actual tryout contract.
It was the bottom of the barrel in terms of minor league hockey, but my name was in a league office and I was told when to show up for the first days of scrimmages. For 3 days I had a practice jersey to wear and for 3 days I was the first and last body on the ice. First one on due to my level of excitement, last one off because I couldn’t move as fast as the others. For 3 days, a briefly NHL defender now on this team as an assistant player coach stood at the blue line blasting shots in somewhat frustration, and completely perplexed by my glove hand skills. Seriously. I have a great glove. Unfortunately, my glove hand only kept me there for 3 days before some higher tiered keepers got handed down from their training camps. For 3 days I played well at times, but certainly not well enough even for a minor league that pays less than some fast food manager jobs.
Not that pay mattered, but when you have a real professional logo on your chest, even in a tryout, you think about it.
There it was, two of two. I still play when I can but over time it sank in that my childhood athlete dreams would never be realized.
Now I could sit here and blame everything else for this fact of life. I didn’t have this or that, my parents moved away from New York, blah blah blah. I will not do that. I can not do that. My belief in fate override all of those things. Everything happens for a reason and its impossible to know what one step in a slightly different direction would have changed. Perhaps I would not have the amazingly beautiful babies I have now. I will not force my unrealized dreams on them. It’s not fair to their own interests to do that. However, anything they do try and pursue will get my full support. From them, I will not accept anything less than full effort either.
Coming to terms with not realizing your childhood dreams is tough for me. Giving up on anything is not something I’m very good at. I imagine its tough for anyone to accept such a truth but I also know it happens to most everyone. Life’s circumstances always change our paths and you can either accept these changes and give your best efforts, or be bitter at the world you’ll never understand.
I choose to give my best effort in sport, in employment, as a parent, and as a husband. What was your dream as a child and what was it like when you realized you achieved it or, for whatever reason, were forced to adjust your goals?
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