MYHockey Moments: Athletes Who Face Challenges, Accept Feedback & Embrace the Process Can Achieve Their Goals

MYHockey Moments is a series of articles drawing from the author’s experiences working at all levels of sports. The series is intended to provide insight, reflection and teachable moments for coaches, young hockey players and their families. His experience is listed at the end of the article.

 

By Scott Lowe - MYHockeyRankings.com

Many athletes who advance to compete at very high levels of their sports can cite one or two career turning points or crossroads that help them navigate their journeys or inspire them to continue pushing to achieve their goals.

Both of my children were fortunate enough to continue their athletic careers into college, and each of them experienced moments along the way that shaped them as athletes and contributed to their ultimate success at that level.  

My son played five years of NCAA Division III hockey in Boston despite playing all the way from Mites through 18U in a non-traditional hockey market. His goal from a relatively young age was to stay home and graduate from high school with his buddies before playing junior hockey and hopefully earning an opportunity to play at the NCAA level.

Thanks to COVID, he ended up playing NCAA hockey for five years, earning two college degrees, serving for two years as team captain and playing more than 100 career games.

My daughter’s aspirations weren’t as clear other than we knew she wanted to play NCAA lacrosse and likely would have the ability to play at the Division I level. She played for one of the top club programs in our area, a lacrosse hotbed, and was fortunate to play in front of coaches from pretty much every top college program in the nation many times. We visited schools, and she spoke to coaches of NCAA Division I, II and III teams without ever really providing us with much indication of what she was thinking - until the one day that she visited a small college with a strong academic reputation and a lacrosse program that consistently was ranked among the top five Division III teams in the nation.

That day there was a spark and a noticeable difference in her demeanor. She knew the moment she stepped on that campus that she had found the college she wanted to attend. It was clear to her. Toward the end of her visit, she sat in the coach’s office and said, “I just want an opportunity to compete for a spot on a team that plays for championships.”

That was her first turning-point moment. She found exactly what she wanted – whatever her reasoning was – and from that point forward focused most of her time and energy on achieving that goal.

The coach was fully transparent. His list of recruits was written on a whiteboard over his left shoulder, and she was somewhere in the middle. He was bringing in four attackers, and at least one of them was going to be left-handed, which she was not. There were no guarantees, but she reiterated that she just wanted an opportunity.

As someone who mostly keeps things to herself, for her that visit and conversation were monumental steps forward on her journey. Ultimately, she would receive offers from Division I, III and III programs before getting the one she really wanted. It was obvious that she was not interested in any of the other opportunities, and she communicated to the coach at her college of choice that she was ready to commit to him at any time. It was six weeks after she told him that, but the offer finally came and she pounced on it.

There there was no looking back for her at that point. It was not going to be easy, but she had earned the offer she wanted and was determined to do whatever was necessary to get the opportunity to play that she craved.

My son’s first crossroads moment came at about the same age, but earlier in his overall journey since 90 percent or more of NCAA hockey players play on junior teams for a year or two after high school.

It was at about that time – he was probably 16 – that an NCAA Division III hockey program was launched literally 10 minutes from where we live. The team would play in one of the rinks where my son grew up playing. It was great news and came as a surprise since the next-closest college with an NCAA program at that time was located about 100 miles north of us.

The coach of the new program made a commitment to be visible in the area and help educate players and their families about the process and pathways for players hoping to play NCAA hockey. He held some skills and skating sessions for local kids and took an interest in my son, offering his time and advice if we ever had questions.

About a year later, the coach was able to watch my son play in his AAA league playoffs and offered to meet with him. We went in to see the coach together, and it turned out to be a turning point in my son’s journey.

The coach opened the conversation with a lot of positive comments and observations. He said that my son clearly had the skill and hockey IQ to compete at his team’s level while mentioning he was going to have to play juniors and continue developing. Then his tone got a little more serious.

“But I need to see you play like a third- or fourth-line player,” the coach said. “Everyone here is very good and highly skilled, so I need to know that if I bring you in and those top spots in the lineup are taken by kids who are older, more experienced or more skilled, you are willing and capable of playing a third- or fourth-line role and helping us.”

Understand that my son had led his team in scoring for four straight years and just had finished a season in which he led an entire AAA league in scoring, so hearing that was a shock to his system. He looked a little taken back but nodded politely and said he understood.

My son also was told by a unior coach that for him to achieve his hockey goals he would have to “become more of a 200-foot player. We know you can put the puck in the net, but that’s just part of the game. Defense is just as important.”

Immediately after hearing that, my son looked at me and asked, “Is he saying that I don’t play defense?”

While I’m not sure those conversations thrilled him at the time, from that point forward there was a noticeable difference in his play. He became more physical and played with more of an edge, ramping up his compete level in the process.

Sometimes, when you’re the best player on the team and you get to play half of every game and in every key situation, bad habits develop. Hockey is not meant to be played that way. No one can play with 100 percent effort at a high compete level consistently while getting that much ice time. That’s when the bad habits develop.

There were times when my son likely had to pace himself to ensure he would have enough energy to give maximum effort late in a close game. Sometimes he probably didn’t backcheck as hard as he should have because of that. His role was to provide offense and create scoring opportunities, so on occasion something had to give.

When he talks to younger players now, though, he is very candid when explaining that turning point for him.

“I was lazy because I was allowed to be,” he has said. “I had a lot to learn about playing 200 feet and playing the right way when I got to juniors. And I got scratched a good amount my first year because of that.”

That segues nicely into the next career crossroads for him, the one that really set him up for future success. He was a high draft pick in two Tier 2 junior leagues, and a team in the first-year National Collegiate Development Conference (NCDC) made it clear that they really liked him. We’ve always talked about going where you are truly wanted, so that’s what he did.

He made the team out of training camp without issue but was told this by the general manager: “You’re a very skilled player who we know can play anywhere in the lineup and do fine, but we are probably cutting some players who are more skilled than you because we know that we can put you on the third or fourth line and trust you to do exactly what we ask when others may not be willing to accept that role.”

That not only was a nice compliment about his character and coachability but also proved to be an important lesson that echoed what the local NCAA coach had told him.

Yet, despite those kind words, the transition to junior hockey would not be easy. He played in the first game of the season on the fourth line and was scratched in the second game because the staff needed to watch a few players who were still questionable to make the team. The following weekend he played both games – and even got to shoot in a shootout victory – but was scratched several games in a row after that.

It seemed to me that he was playing fine but also was clear that other players were getting more opportunities. He never complained and was adamant that he would work through the situation on his own. His playing time was erratic until right before Thanksgiving when suddenly he was bumped into the top six. The team went on a five-game winning streak that included a victory against the top team in the league, which had a dozen or more Division I commits in its lineup.

Then his team made some trades – he watched close friends get traded – and brought in a Division I commit and another player with higher-level junior experience. My son got bumped down again to the point that he was used as an extra forward against one of the weakest teams in the league and played two shifts. And he still got scratched occasionally.

The coach later would tell me about a locker room exchange with my son after that game.

“I asked him in front of everyone if he was mad,” the coach recalled.

“Yes,” my son replied.

The coach asked, “Why are you mad?”

“Because we lost to the worst team in the league and I got two shifts,” was the response.

To which the coach retorted, “So, what are you going to do about that?”

“Go to practice tomorrow and work harder,” my son said.

“I knew that’s how he would respond,” the coach told me, “and I wanted everyone in the room to see that.”

While it’s not easy as a parent to see your kid – who had been the best player on his team  for many years – not get to play as much as  you think he should, this was part of the process of him becoming a better hockey player and figuring out what he needed to do to continue advancing up the ladder toward his goal. There were other opportunities with other teams in different leagues, but he didn’t want that.

“I’m playing with and against the best players I’ve ever been around every day in practice,” he said, “and I know that I’m good enough and want to prove myself.”

Gradually his playing time increased.  He played up and down the lineup, gaining invaluable experience in different roles, and played in both the top and bottom six during a hard-fought, best-of-three playoff series victory.

But even more important, he was competing every day in practice as if it was a playoff game because he just wanted to move up the lineup. Even though he wasn’t on one of the top penalty-kill units during games, he did get some PK opportunities and was playing on the top unit against future NCAA players every day in practice.

It was all part of the growth process, and my son focused getting better and proving himself every single day. Many players lose sight of that process and its importance or get comfortable and stop working. Other players give up and change teams or ask to be traded.

That process and his willingness to embrace it allowed him to assume a larger role throughout the season and become a player who was used in all situations during his second year of juniors.

The biggest payoff would come when he got to college, however. He already had learned what it took to earn a coach’s trust and get into the lineup when other players may not have had to deal with being scratched or asked to play down the lineup. He got an opportunity to play early in his college career and embraced blocking shots, killing penalties, being physical and doing whatever it took to help the team and prove himself.

More than 100 games later he could look back on a college career during which he played every single game and led the team in scoring twice while serving as captain and competing in one of the top Division III leagues in the country.

My daughter’s college playing career turned out to be a little more turbulent than my son’s. She didn’t have the luxury of the two extra years before college to make the transition to a higher level and went from being a player who never came off the field and finished as her high school’s all-time leading scorer to being a role player who only was used in certain situations.

To make the situation more daunting, she was joining a team ranked among the nation’s top 10 that was scheduled to play against nationally ranked opponents in three of its first four games. One game she played about 20 minutes in a win over a top five team. The next game she was told to get ready to go in early against another ranked team but never played. She played sparingly in the third game and scored her first carer point late in a blowout fourth-game victory.

Then came COVID.

The season was canceled, and she never got the opportunity my son received to prove herself and work her way up the lineup. The team played a fifth of its scheduled games her freshman year and only played eight games the following season because of more pandemic restrictions.

The coach understandably wanted to make that second year special for the team’s seniors, who ended up losing more than a full season’s worth of games. Playing time for reserves was sparse for most of the year – even in blowout wins – but my daughter did see more time as the season progressed and recorded a hat trick later in the year. The team won its conference championship game against an arch-rival – she didn’t play – but she did receive a fair amount of playing time in the NCAA Tournament.

Still, heading into her junior year, my daughter had seen her opportunities for development slashed considerably because of COVID, and with a new crop of recruits coming in there was no telling what the future would hold.

She had reached another crossroads, one that would determine whether she would become a contributing member of her team or continue to be just another role player. The coach told her that he wanted to see her play with more confidence and improve her off-hand skills.  

That summer, my daughter never missed a workout. If it was sunny, raining or 100 degrees and humid, she ran and lifted weights and worked on improving her left hand. Whether we were home or on a trip somewhere, she found the time to put in the work every day.

She also made the difficult decision to not study abroad that fall unlike many juniors on her team. Instead, she chose to use fall practice and the short fall season to show the coach what she could do, knowing that she would play a larger role with other players abroad studying.

A trip to Europe with her friends could wait until the summer; this was her opportunity to prove herself, and remember, all she ever wanted was an opportunity.

She returned to campus in the best shape of her life and probably as fit as anyone on the team. Her left-handed game had improved, and her mindset had changed – something that I was not aware of until I asked her share her story with a group of young hockey players a year later.

“I just told myself that I had nothing to lose,” she told the players. “I knew that I was a good player, so I decided that I was just going to go out and play the way I knew how to play and not worry about making mistakes or if coach yelled at me. I was happy with my school choice, so no matter what happened it was going to be fine. I just played hard and had fun and played the way I knew how to play and let him figure it out.”

I saw her coach before the fall play day that October, and he made a point to say how happy he was with her and how hard she was working. In the first game of the day against a Division I team, she looked nervous and turned the ball over the first time she got it. About 30 seconds later, though, she stole the ball back, took it to the goal and ripped a ridiculous shot into the top corner.

At that point I knew she would be fine.

After the game, the coach came over and grabbed me and said, “Did you see that shot? I knew she could do that!”

A few minutes later, the assistant came over to introduce herself and told my daughter, “Don’t freak out. Just keep doing what you’ve been doing, but you’re starting the next game.”

When the real season started in February, she was the first attacker off the bench. She moved into the starting lineup about four games into the season, later scored a big goal in an upset win over the top-ranked team in the country and never came out of the starting lineup after that.

A year and a half later, my daughter had served as captain of a team that advanced to the Final Four, was named an Academic All-American and scored nearly 100 points in two seasons as a full-time player. She scored five goals in the NCAA regional finals to lead her team to the Final Four.

After losing to the eventual national champions in the semifinals, the coach came over to our family and said, “I just don’t know how I’m going to replace her next year. She keeps it together for us. The offense just flows when she’s on the field.”

It probably didn’t hurt that my kids grew up in a house with two coaches, but these are not outrageous one-in-a-billion stories like Michael Jordan getting cut from his high school team and going on to become the greatest basketball player of all time.

These are two young people who went on to compete successfully at a very high level, but not a level that is unattainable or unreachable for many others. They may have heard some things they didn’t enjoy hearing from their coaches at times along the way, and they probably got way more frustrated during the process than they ever showed their parents or coaches.

Despite that, they accepted their realities and instead of spending time sulking, running from the challenges or blaming others, they met the situations head on and embraced the process. They used the feedback and information from their coaches to figure out what they needed to do to improve daily and from there continued stacking single days of hard work and improvement until they had earned their trust.

Every young athlete will reach similar crossroads that are potential turning points in their careers and lives. Everyone hits a ceiling at some point; figuring that out and pursuing other areas of interest and becoming great at something else is an awesome response. That is not a failure.

But for those who remain committed to their athletic pursuits and refuse to give them up, it’s important to understand that there is a light at the end of the tunnel for those who accept constructive criticism, don’t take feedback too personally and commit to using that information to make themselves better every single day.

Trust me. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.

Scott Lowe currently runs a program called DMV Prospects in Maryland that advocates and provides exposure and college counseling for hockey players in that area who hope to play beyond youth and high school hockey.

He coached various sports, including hockey, at multiple levels for nearly 30 years and spent 15 years working in athletic departments at the NCAA Division I level. His daughter played lacrosse and was captain for a nationally ranked NCAA Division III program, and his son was a two-time captain who played more than 100 career NCAA Division III hockey games.