What Type Of Hockey Parent Are You? Part 2.
It appears the article we published back in January regarding which type of hockey parent you are, really struck a chord. We’re guessing people nervously scrolled through the content, cringing at the various categories they reluctantly fell into. Some may have even uttered the popular Steve Urkel catch phrase, “Did I do that?”
While we can all see ourselves across many of those personality types, in today’s age of sub-cultures, micro-influencers, diversity and inclusion—we didn’t want anyone to feel left out. So, for that we offer you six more types of hockey parents. Yes, a sequel!
Goalie Parent Island
Oh the poor, poor parents of goaltenders. You’ll find them at the rink either pacing behind the net alone or sitting as a couple holding hands and praying to the hockey Gods. Make sure if you pass a goalie parent in the bleachers that you don’t make eye contact or say anything that will derail their superstitions. And if you do decide to strike up a conversation, and they seem a bit distant, they’re more than likely on a heavy cocktail of Xanax, Nexium and Wrigley’s Spearmint. Goalie parents live their lives in solitude, that is, unless their kid secures a victory, at which point they’re immediately elevated to GOAT status with all members of the family receiving praise, free drinks and deep tissue massages.
The Lone Ranger (a.k.a. Zero Dark Thirty)
If you see this parent at the rink at all, you will only find them alone. The Lone Ranger is angry, inconsolable, despondent, and broken. Estranged from family and friends, this hockey parent has isolated themselves from others because of their PTHD (post traumatic hockey disorder). If you’re waiting for their GroupMe vote on where to have the team lunch in-between games, don’t bother. They deleted that app long ago, and they definitely are not going to no goddamnn team bonding. They may have started out watching games with the pack of parents, but now they’re up in the corner of the arena, pacing and mumbling crazy talk to themselves regarding everything from their kid getting screwed over in mini-mites to how the Zamboni driver cost them the game for laying down the water too thick.
The Kid Critic
There are parents who scream. There are parents who coach. And then there are parents who scream coach at kids who aren’t even their own. Somebody needs to go into their parent settings and turn “filters” back on. It’s as if they crossed over into an alternate hockey parent dimension and have lost all reality of how you should speak to children. “Pass the puck, what are you doing?” “Get off the ice already!” And for the goalies, “Ugh, we’d be so much better if our goalie could actually stop something.” If you’re around when the kid critic is in full effect, walk away slowly with no sudden movements. It’s best not to step between a momma bear and her cubs. This is when the claws come out. Things can get real aggressive when someone wants their team to win so badly that they start acting more like a fan, and less like a parent.
The Mentalist
Many parents will say they have a spiritual bond with their kids. Some even claim that there’s a psychic connection. But the Mentalist hockey parent truly believes they can communicate telepathically with their son or daughter on the ice. To which we say, easy there Aquaman! Your kids aren’t clairvoyant dolphins that you can summon and command to save your team from a playoff loss. But there they’ll be, nose up against the glass, trying to make eye contact, furrowing their brow and shooting pupil daggers. Next, they’ll move to the more obvious physical gestures like a subtle circular finger motion suggesting “move your feet” or a teeth clench implying, “get tough.” But kids are smart enough to have their own signals too, which you’ll see most often in the form of a middle finger back at their parents as they sit waiting for their next shift.
The Hero Worshipper
Every few seasons that go by you’ll have a kid on your team who’s a game changer. They might be a coast-to-coast stickhandling prodigy or fully facial-haired enforcer who’s hit puberty early. You’ll see other parents protect this kid like they’re on secret service detail. If the kid needs a ride to the rink, there will be a Chevy Suburban motorcade waiting—including a dummy vehicle, just in case their opponents try to sabotage the star player. If the kid’s not feeling well, these people will organize an Amazon Prime same-day care package of Vicks VapoRub, Advil and Emergen-C packets. And what parents don’t want their kid to be friends with the team superstar? Their social calendar is booked for months with play dates and invitations to summer teams hoping their greatness will rub off on their own player. Parents of these hero kids better limit the sleepovers to one night, or risk the Hero Worshipper parents trying to adopt their kid as their own and head to Canada to play in the Major Juniors.
The Mayor
If you’ve seen the series Friday Night Lights, then you know Buddy Garrity, the rich car dealership-owning booster. Buddy Garrity is the ultimate team Mayor. The Mayor is the person who’s always wheeling and dealing, glad-handing and coming up with new “amazing opportunities” for the team. Usually with deep pockets, the Mayor will bleed your team funds dry and keep you wondering if he’s getting a kickback from all of these extras. One week it’ll be buying a third jersey and breezer covers. The next week it’ll be booking a scrimmage at the stadium where the pros play. And don’t forget the additional training opportunities they’ve secured with some elite coach to the stars who charges $200 an hour. A word of advice: Keep the Mayor involved in team parties and away from the X’s and O’s or you might find yourself taking a last-minute coaching certification class.
