Alright, let me tell you about this whole Northwood hockey tournament thing we just went through. It feels like ages ago already, even though it was just last weekend.
So, we found out maybe a month back that my kid’s team actually made it into the Northwood tournament. Pretty big deal for them, you know? They were buzzing. Me? Honestly, my first thought was, oh great, another weekend wiped out, and probably freezing in some ice rink miles from home. But hey, you gotta support the team, right?
First thing I did was jump online to book a hotel. Let me tell you, that was a scramble. Seemed like every parent from every team had the same idea at the exact same second. Found a place eventually, nothing fancy, probably cost more than it should have, but it was close enough to the rink. Then came the packing. You ever try to fit hockey gear for a growing kid, plus winter clothes for everyone, plus snacks, into one car? It’s an art form, I swear. The whole house started smelling like hockey bag by Thursday.
We hit the road Friday afternoon. Traffic was, well, exactly what you’d expect heading out of town on a Friday. Brutal. Kid was plugged into his tablet most of the way, thankfully. We stopped once for gas station coffee that tasted like burnt sadness and burgers that were just… okay. Finally rolled into Northwood pretty late.
The hotel was fine. Smelled a bit like chlorine and maybe stale popcorn? Standard tournament hotel vibe. Dumped our stuff and crashed.
Game Days
Saturday morning came way too early. Rink was absolutely freezing, just like I predicted. Found our team section in the stands, huddled up with the other parents. First game? Tough one. Kids looked a bit star-struck or nervous, maybe both. We lost, but it was close. You could feel the disappointment.
Second game later that day was better. They came out flying. Scored a couple early. We actually won that one pretty easily. Cheering, high-fives all around. My throat was already starting to feel raw. That’s how it goes.
- Watched the kids warm up.
- Tried to decipher the ref’s calls (mostly failed).
- Drank more questionable arena coffee.
- Talked way too much strategy with parents who knew as little as I did.
Sunday was the make-or-break game. If we won, we kept going. If not, season over for this tournament. It was intense. Back and forth the whole time. Tied up at the end. Went to overtime. My heart was pounding out of my chest. Seriously. And then… the other team scored. Just like that. Done. Seeing the look on the kids’ faces, man, that was rough. Tears, slumped shoulders, the whole thing.
We did the team dinner thing afterwards. Tried to keep it light, told them they played great, which they did, mostly. It’s hard, you know? They put so much into it.
Packed up Sunday night, drove back Monday morning. Much quieter drive home. Kid slept almost the whole way. I was just exhausted. Physically, mentally, emotionally. It’s a lot, these tournament weekends.
Was it worth it? Yeah, I think so. Despite the early mornings, the cold rinks, the bad coffee, the cost… seeing them compete, being part of that little community of parents, even the heartbreak. It’s all part of the experience. You build memories, right? Though maybe next year, I’ll pack a better thermos.
