Chapter 1

It was a bright and cold afternoon, and Dan packed his skates, stick, gloves and helmet along with Brad’s gear, placing them in his Mustang. Several kids looked inside his Mustang as he waited patiently for Brad outside the main entrance to his school.

“Hey, Brad!” Dan yelled, waving him over.

“Hi Dad, what’s up?” He asked, hugging him.

“Come on Son, I have a surprise for you,” Dan said, leading the way. Brad hurried to tell his bus driver he was going with his dad. Brad noticed his and Dan’s hockey gear in the back of his Mustang. A couple of his friends said hi to him as he got in the passenger seat. Dan turned on the ignition, and his Mustang GT rumbled to life.

“Oh man, that sounds awesome!” Brad exclaimed, wide-eyed. Dan smiled, feathering the gas pedal. The growling rumble of the engine’s exhaust filled the surrounding air.

“I had the engine tweaked a little.”

“It sure sounds like you did!” Brad looked over at his friends, who gave him several thumbs up.

“Gee Brad your voice sounds deeper since you fucked your mom,” Dan kidded.

“Very funny Dad,” Brad replied. Dan’s comment referred to the teasing of a boy’s voice getting deeper because he lost his virginity, and became a man. “Lay some rubber when you leave, will you?” He urged.

“Nah, peeling it out is for teenagers,” he smiled. “Make sure you buckle up.”

Dan pulled away from the curb and aggressively shifted the Mustang, getting the most out of first and a little of second gear, the throaty rumble echoed off the nearby buildings. He quickly braked, bringing the car down from seventy to the fifty-kilometre speed limit.

“That should prove how good the car is to your buddies without showing off ... too much!” He smiled at Brad.

“Thanks, Dad, I love you.”

“Love you too, Son. I don’t mind telling you I get tingles when I call you Son, and you call me, Dad.”

“Thanks and I’m proud that you’re my dad. You’ll have to teach me how to drive a standard when I get my license,” Brad said.

“We’ll see.”

“Will you open the glove box and take out the small bag.”

“What’s this?” Brad asked, examining the outside of the bag.

“It’s for you. Open it.” He opened the Smith’s Bookstore bag.

“‘Official Rules of Hockey,’ I don’t understand but thank you,” Brad said, reading the title out loud. “What’s this for?”

“It’s for studying your new school subject.”

“Hockey, but I know how to play hockey.”

“Yes you do, Brad, but you don’t know the finer points of the game. This book will give you the rules that hockey is played by, what the referees and linesmen use to call the plays. In order to know a subject in school, you have to first know the theory behind it.”

“In hockey, you need to become a student of the game. Study your opponent, the forwards, defense, and especially the goalie. Discover their weaknesses. The same thing applies to your schooling.”

“I still don’t see how this will help me with my hockey,” Brad grumbled.

“It will, you’ll see.” Brad began to read the rule book as Dan continued driving east on Highway 2. “I have another surprise for you in a few minutes,” Dan said, making his way to Belleville.

Brad immersed himself in the hockey rule book as Dan drove. “So that’s why, now I understand,” Brad said out loud. Brad caught his Dad looking at him while they waited at a red light. “Thanks, Dad, this book is amazing!” He smiled.

“You’re quite welcome Brad.” A few minutes later, Dan turned into the parking lot of the Yardmen Arena.

“Okay Dad, what’s going on?”

“I happen to know one of the men that take care of the ice here at the arena. When the Bellville Falcon’s are finished their practice, I’ve arranged for you and me to have an hour of ice time together. Have you ever watched the Falcons practice before?”

“Never.”

“This may give you a little insight into what kind of work is required to be in the OHL, Ontario Hockey League.”

“I don’t know what to say.” As they got out of the car, Brad was stunned by his dad’s generous offer.

“Just open your eyes and ears and learn.”

Dan patted Brad’s shoulder, then hugged him, new Father and Son continuing to bond. They gathered their gear and went inside, “You still use a wooden stick?” Brad asked, looking at Dan’s banged-up relic.

“It might be old, but she’s good. Fibreglass reinforced aspen wood. I find the newer ones break too easily on me.”

“I’ve always wondered what the letters CCM mean,” Brad pointed to the three letters.

“It stands for, Canadian Cycle Manufacturer. CCM is famous for building good quality bicycles and sports equipment. Your’s must be a composite stick,” he noted of the finish.

“We both use CCM, mine is an RBZ 130, whatever that means.”

“Son there’s quite a science behind the hockey stick such as grip feel, pitch, and curve of the blade, similar to different golf clubs. Most dads will cut the stick to the nose of their son or daughter for length, but when you play, the longer the stick the better.”

“How come your’s has next to no curve on it?”

“You’ll see,”

They changed quickly in an empty room, then stood by the player’s bench to watch the remainder of the Falcons’ practice. Brad looked on wide-eyed, his head moving in every direction, taking in as much as he could. Dan smiled as he watched Brad’s expression. This moment was priceless to both of them.

“Thanks again, Dad! This is so awesome!”

“My pleasure, Son,” he smiled, tapping his helmet with his stick blade.

“The guy in the yellow jersey is Mike Johnson. He’s the one I told you about yesterday. He and I played Midget together on the River Rats for two seasons. This is his rookie year in the OHL.”

“Why is he the only one wearing yellow?” Dan asked.

“He’s recovering from an injury and the yellow means, ëno body contact’ with him,” Brad said, looking at his Dad.

“You knew that about the yellow sweater, didn’t you?” He reacted, seeing his dad’s knowing expression.

“Some things in hockey never change. I was just checking to see if you knew,” Dan smiled, tapping Brad’s helmet again. “Thank you so much Dad, this is absolutely fantastic!” Brad sat wide-eyed like a little kid on Christmas morning.