In some towns it happens in the fall, just before the hockey season is set to begin. In other communities it’s in the spring, right after the champions have been declared. The time of year may change, but the pressure and the uncertainty never vary.

As he wanders through the arena lobby he sees a long line-up of kids and their parents. Some of the players stand with their hockey bags slung over their shoulders; others simply push their equipment along the floor with their foot as they move up in the line. When they get to the front, all their vital information – birth date, address, phone number and previous team -- are entered on a form.

The players get a bib with big, bold numbers on the front and the back. For the next hour that’s how they’ll be identified. They head to the dressing room to get ready as their parents fork over the $8 tryout fee.

When the players are ready they walk through the gate to the ice, knowing they have 60 minutes to show their stuff. They’ll be asked to do stops and starts at full speed. They’ll perform drills that measure the way they turn, the way they stop and the way they change direction. The accuracy of their shot will be tested as will their puck handling skills. They’ll scrimmage to find out how they handle pressure. All of it watched by a small group of coaches who carry clipboards and write notes. By the end of the tryout they’ll decide who stays and who goes.

The process is difficult and the old guy tells people never to get complacent about tryouts. You never know what’s going to happen.

A couple years back one of his sons had gone to the rink confident he had a spot on the team he had been with for two years. Weeks earlier the coach had said it was a done deal; he wanted his son to return to the team.

As he watched the tryout he began to worry. The coach was ignoring his son. He wasn’t watching him in the drills. He didn’t see him out-skate almost everyone on the ice. When it was over the coach gave everyone a letter. The coach handed his son a letter printed on pink paper. His teammates got a letter on white paper. The coach had changed his mind. His son came running out of the dressing room in tears.

This uncertainty is one reason parents who attend tryouts are reserved and stick to themselves. They say hi, smile and may strike up a conversation, but there’s no camaraderie, no laughing, no joking. Last season their sons were teammates, now they’re competitors.

The old guy quietly watches today’s event unfold. His grandson is guaranteed a spot because the boy’s father has volunteered to be the team manager. Fortunately his grandson is a good player. Too often a son is on the team just because the dad has volunteered to help out.

Beside him is a man who can’t sit still. His son is on the “bubble.” He’ll be asked to return to the team only if no one better shows up, and there are more than 40 skaters on the ice. The two of them think the boy looks good. He skates well. He has a hard, accurate shot. He passes well in the two-on-two drills and he’s aggressive during the scrimmage. But he’s famous for his temper and during the season he took far too many idiotic penalties.

One of the coaches comes over to the dad and squats beside him in the stands. He wants to know if the dad has chatted with his boy about the penalties. He says all of the coaches think the boy is talented, but those stupid penalties… They don’t know if they want him back and won’t decide until the next tryout.

The old guy overhears the conversation and shakes his head. The indecision is deadly. The father squirms in his seat, his hands are clenched and his anger is evident in the tight lines around his clenched jaw. It will be a real test for his son’s temper when he gets the news.

The grandpa slowly gets up and moves away. He doesn’t want to be part of the anguish. He’s been there, and is happy that this time he’s an observer in this tryout weekend.