grinder for hockey parents

a hook up app to prevent violence?

Despite my best judgement I was there. Seated by the goal line, I was far from the crowd of parents perched nervously on the bleachers. Two days in a row seemed a bit much for me to handle, but it was the provincial championships.

I wanted to be there and be a decent human being for my son. He loved soccer and was glad I was there for the game. I was unsure.

The prior day, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. Each time ‘something’ at all controversial happened, I’d blurt or cackle or say something mocking and cruel just loud enough for the children playing to hear.

I couldn’t help it.

The same thing started again. Only this time, I wasn’t alone

Don’t shout at the kids, they’re just kids. People are going to think that you’re an asshole.

Fuck.

I wasn’t ‘shouting at them’. I was reacting without an ability to filter or keep my mouth shut. Everyone there was wired. Everyone there was edgy, nervous and ready to pop.

Most of the others had a better filter.

I’m not shouting at them. I’m over here trying to watch so I don’t cause a fight.

Well, they can hear you. I can hear you. Don’t ruin the game for the kids.

At this point I was looking at the dude. Sizing up how I’d handle him in a fight. He was about six feet tall, sturdy but had a bit of a belly… I could likely tire him out before before knocking him out. Emboldened by this, I spoke.

I’m unconcerned with how people think about me. Plenty of people think I’m an asshole. In fact they KNOW this to be true - they told me so much. So don’t threaten me with public perception. I’ve been kicked out of games before and should that happen again, so be it.

I stood up and walked over to speak to him more closely. Things were a bit tense at first.

Look dude. I can’t shut my mouth. It’s to much for me to be here. I don’t come to games because when the game is on, I pick up on the ‘battle energy’ and I’m in it. I can’t separate myself well.

He laughed. I didn’t watch my son yesterday. I just sat here and watched you watched. I could tell that you’d be an arse and I’d need to keep an eye on you to make sure there wasn’t any trouble…

I noticed as he watched the game. Though bigger and obviously pissed off, he shifted from foot to foot nervously. He continued:

We’ve driven four hours to play soccer every weekend and I haven’t watched a game. I walk laps around the field. I can’t take it.

I laughed. I hadn’t met my match. I did meet a brother from another mother.

His name was Andrew. He was a gym teacher. His son played centre back. My son was the striker. They were in direct opposition to each other.

I like how your son plays. He’s not greasy at all like #6 or #9. Those dudes are scumbags

He laughed. They are greasy. They’re hockey guys. They have no clue that you can’t just two hand someone in soccer. If you think they’re bad, you should meet their dads. Who’s your son?

The ball flew open towards the Cape Breton net. The only one back was Andrew’s son.

GOOOOOO!

I started shouting.

I see, he chuckled as our sons ran down field head to head. Their battle was perfect. Sure there was shoulder contact. They battled hard, mean, fair and clean. They weren’t greasy, just intense.

I like how your boy plays the game - we spoke at once in strong agreement.

For the next sixty minutes we chuckled and talked about being a hyper dad watching our sons play. I’d point out when our players were greasy. He’d point out when Cape Breton players were greasy. We both mocked the reffs.

This is the best sports game I’ve ever had the pleasure of watching.

Andrew was gushing.

I’m serious Jim. You’re great. I’ve never been able to stand still and watch the whole thing. Thank you.

At the end of regulation, the game was tied two all.

This is perfect. They’re both winners.

Sadly, this wasn’t the case. Penalty shots would be needed to decided the ‘winner’ of the game. That didn’t matter. Andrew and I had already won. I though he was great. That’s when my wife ran over

You’re going to be late picking up our daughter!

I ran off before the game was decided by a skills competition that’s essentially a coin toss.

It’s a damn shame it had to end this way. You’re a good man Jim.

After I couldn’t believe that people thought I was good.

I was still ashamed about calling the players with Andrew’s son ‘a bunch of greasy diving pukes’.

But he didn’t remember that.

Instead, he remembered a dude just as crazy as him who found a way to connect and level out with him across the intense, violent anxiety of a provincial championship soccer game.

We need to make an app for highly sensitive men who can’t watch their kids play sports. You know the kind of man who can’t help but get carried away by the feeling while watching, only to be asked to leave the field for bad behaviour.

There are a lot of us who are great men, beloved for lifting heavy things at a barn or building shelters for girl guides then at a hockey rink, football pitch or baseball diamond become venomous vicious pricks.

I kinda want to create an app that connects these dads from opposing teams so they can hang out and calm each other down merely by being togethger.

Where are there ‘sides’ in your life?

Where could you stand to benefit by spending time with someone from the other side?

How could you do it?

How can you critique your own people in order to connect with someone else?

How far can you go before you’ve gone too far?