It’s early Monday evening; the cold winter sun is quickly disappearing over the western corner of the arena. The window to the ticket seller’s office is closed and the metal shutters at the snack bar are still down.

This is Joe’s hockey night. It begins in a little more than an hour when the nine-year-olds take to the ice at 6:30, and ends sometime before midnight when the Midgets drag themselves into the dressing rooms for their post-game showers. He’s there for every loving minute of it, as he has been since he started this eight-team organization 27 years ago.

He hasn’t taken off his coat before one of his coaches bounds up the stairs and barges into the office brandishing a piece of paper. “What the hell is this all about?” The coach is mad. “This is such crap.”

“Hey, Greg,” says Joe brightly. “I thought I might see you up here tonight. Want a coffee?” The workers at the arena make sure there’s a pot of hot coffee in the office before Joe arrives.

Joe is the general manager. He appoints coaches, deals with the league and calls the meetings. He’s a volunteer, but with a list of responsibilities that could daunt a paid professional. Everyone knows the Falcons is his organization. A few days ago he received an e-mail from a woman who watched one of his teams play. She said the kids played dirty and the parents were out of control.

“So, what’s on your mind?” Joe asks the agitated coach. Experience has told him to let the men vent. The coach is outraged that someone would send a note about his team. His players are aggressive, but not dirty. He has no responsibility for the way the parents behave. How dare they complain about his team after all of the work he does for these kids?

Joe wades in when the wave of anger has passed. As usual, his message is full of anecdotes. He tells Greg that he’ll never accept that nine-year-old kids play dirty hockey. “I got involved in hockey when I saw how much fun these kids have. I’ve seen bad teams and I’ve seen good teams. But I’ve never seen young kids who were trying to be dirty. They’re having too much fun to play that way.”

Joe’s tougher on the parents. He tells the kids: “When your parents are at the rink they’re representing me and this organization. Unless they have something positive to say, tell them to keep their mouths shut. I know they get excited, but the game is for the kids, not them.”

He tells the angry coach to have a team meeting and he volunteers to talk to the parents.

Next up the stairs are four coaches from another of the young teams. “Did you see that call? The ref gave our kid a hitting-from-behind penalty and there’s no way that was an illegal hit. Because of the ref’s stupidity, our best player’s going to miss two games!”

The coaches don’t want the ref assigned to any of their games. They want to write a letter to the league and have Joe endorse their complaints. What kind of message is being sent to the kids when a player has to sit two games out for doing nothing wrong?

Joe’s first instinct is to support his coaches. He knows how difficult it is to deal with hockey parents who focus only on their own kids. He nods sympathetically, but when they’ve had their say his message is clear. He’s not going to complain about the refs.

“Hitting from behind is a tough call. Maybe the ref missed something, maybe he wasn’t in the perfect spot, but neither were you. He’s the one on the ice and it’s his job to call what he sees. Once he makes the call it’s over with and we have to live with it.”

By now the other members of the executive have arrived. Joe expects them to be there even if they don’t have kids playing for the organization. It’s part of being a member of the Falcons family.

“We’re going to need someone else to do bingo this week,” Joe announces.

Joe’s been doing bingos for the Falcons for 26 years. At one time it was a gold mine for non-profit organizations, but revenues have plummeted. There’s too much competition from casinos, video terminals and lotteries.

Everyone on the executive has worked the bingo, but most of them don’t like the dense smoke and the intrusion on their time.

One of them volunteers, but insists he won’t do it again soon. Joe doesn’t like the answer. He knows this guy and everyone else has a busy life, but he expects a strong, passionate commitment, just like his.

He’s 64 years old and still lives and breathes his hockey club. Sometimes the coaches drive him crazy with their demands. The parents are often unreasonable. But the kids are always kids, which is why Monday night, and every other night, is hockey night for Joe. He’s one volunteer who is truly doing it for the kids.

LETTERS   [Email Ken here]

I've been coaching minor hockey for about 10 years. Since I have two boys playing hockey there were times that I coached both boys, but at different levels. I keep saying this every year, but I think this may be my last year volunteering as a coach.

Although I love the sport and do enjoy coaching, it's the parents that are driving me away. I'm not getting paid for this. Like Joe, I'm a volunteer! I have parents that sit with stopwatches, timing the length of their kids shift. They don't want their kid play on the same line as so-and-so, and constantly yell at on-ice officials. It's things like this that drive volunteers away.

This is for the kids. Parents have to do a better job of being role models.

Jeff
Port Moody, B.C.