Larry doesn't join them. He sits in the stands with his partner. She's slim, blonde and sexy, and she likes to sit with the other six members of her family who consistently come to the rink to watch. She draws attention, and Larry likes to stay close.

He's a big man who has a gentle touch with kids. The 10-year-olds who are on the ice adore him. He counsels teenagers who have mastered the art of picking a lock or skulking out of a store with pockets full.

He knows hockey. When he plays shinny the puck follows him -- he can do things his buddies can only dream about. A few years ago he was called up to the NHL for a cup of coffee. The rivalry and bitterness of this championship series of 10-year-old players rivals the intensity of those few games he played in the arenas of North America's greatest hockey towns.

Minor hockey can be passionate, but this series has gone beyond the norm. The kids want to win, but the parents are more focused on what's happening in the stands than on the game that's unfolding in front of them.

It started in the regular season. Parents with the Mohawks have a tradition of coming to the rink with their shakers, Javex bottles full of pennies that create a cacophony of sound when you shake them. When the first playoff game started the parents of the Cree (Yes, there are still many hockey people who think these native names are a positive reinforcement for a battered culture) had their revenge. One of the mothers showed up with a drum and played the rhythm of a war chant from the beginning to the end of the game. Non-stop.

Together the shakers and the drum create enough noise to put even the most calm and rational hockey parent on edge. This is the final game of the series -- the tension rises with every beat of the drum. The game is in the second period with the score tied when the strain takes its toll. Larry's partner decides she can't take any more drumbeats. She's had enough.

She moves two rows down and reaches over to the mother who's been banging the drum. She stumbles and falls into the man sitting next to the drummer. He pushes her back and she falls. The pressure of the moment and Larry's need to protect his partner drive him to leap into action.

With kids, he's mild and calm, but he's worked as a bodyguard for the famous who need protection when they come to the big city. He stands 6-3 and knows how to inflict damage.

He swoops in and lifts her to the aisle where she's away from everyone else. Then he turns and moves towards the man who shoved his partner.

The drum is silent and the shakers are on the ground. Very few of the parents notice the players jumping on the Cree's leading scorer, knocking him to the ice. The Mohawks have scored a goal to put them one up.

Larry grabs the man's coat with one hand and shoves the palm of his other hand into the man's face. Larry moves so quickly and ferociously that it's clear he can be dangerous, but before he can do any damage he hears the celebration on the ice. The noise is like a magnet and everyone turns their attention back to the game.

Larry lets the man go and drops his hand to his side. Insults are hurled, but the moment of violence has passed. Larry and his partner walk up the stairs to their place on the cold, hard bench.

The game continues and the parents go back to their cheering, but there are no more shakers and the drum stays silent. There are no more goals. The Mohawks win their second city championship.

The parents from both teams came to the rink to soak up the atmosphere of a championship game. They wanted a victory and some of them got it, but when the kids wandered out of their dressing room there were just as many comments about the drums, the shakers and Larry's tussle as there were about the win. The behaviour of the adults had come within a heartbeat of stealing the joy from their kids' victory celebration.

LETTERS   [Email Ken here]