Honestly, getting ready for those tournaments at the Rockland rink felt like herding cats sometimes. I remember sitting at my kitchen table, coffee gone cold, just staring at this giant spreadsheet. Dates, teams, timeslots… my head was spinning.
The Planning Mess
First thing was getting those damn schedule requests in order. Coaches emailing at midnight, last-minute changes popping up like daisies. One team even tried to sneak in an extra practice session, pretending they booked it weeks ago. I caught them red-handed flipping through the paper sign-up sheets we keep behind the concession stand – the old-school way saved my butt there.
Then came the ice time shuffle. Rockland Rec department plays hardball, lemme tell ya. Their guy, Steve? Stone cold negotiator. Had to practically beg for an extra hour Friday night. Ended up cutting our own staff training slot short just to squeeze in that PeeWee semi-final everybody wanted.
- Figured out brackets Wednesday afternoon – took three hours and two more coffees.
- Argued with the Zamboni driver Thursday because he swore our schedule messed up his dinner break.
- Friday morning panic? Realizing we only ordered half the tournament patches.
Game Day Chaos
Saturday hits, and boom. Total zoo. Team buses showing up late, clogging the parking lot like it’s a mall sale. Parents arguing over standing room spots near the glass. Concession ran out of hot chocolate by noon – rookie mistake, shoulda known with that wind chill pouring in every time the doors opened.
The worst? U10 game went into triple overtime right before the Bantam showcase. Those little guys were dead on their skates. Had to push everything back. Referees were annoyed, parents were yelling, ticket table got completely overwhelmed. Saw one kid crying cause his granola bar got knocked into the bleachers. Couldn’t catch a break.
The Aftermath
Sunday wraps up, trophies handed out. Cleanup crew finds a mountain of forgotten gear in the locker rooms – sticks, gloves, even a single skate. No idea how you walk out without a skate! We barely got the place cleared in time for the girls’ league practice Monday. My voice? Gone. Like I swallowed sandpaper.
Why do I even bother with this? Honestly… that moment Friday night. Seeing the rink lights glow on fresh ice before the first face-off. Local kids buzzing, parents nervously clapping. It’s pure community garbage glue, you know? Total mess, exhausting, sometimes ridiculous. Costs me sleep and my last nerve. But seeing teams fist-bump at center ice? Yeah. That’s why. Even if the damned hot chocolate runs out.
