By Steve Simmons, Toronto Sun

There was about two minutes to play in the playoff game and I was anxiously pacing behind the bench, barking out whatever instructions seemed important at that very moment. You watch the game and you watch the clock in those final seconds, sometimes precisely at the very same time. We were up by a goal, poised to advance to the next round of the playoffs, when I felt a tug on my jacket. “Ah coach,” one of my players said on the bench. “Yea,” I answered, concentrating more on the game and the clock than on him at that instance. “Is there snacks today?” “Whaaaat?” I barked exasperated. “Did anyone bring snacks today?” “Huh,” I looked away. “I hope they didn’t bring apple juice.” The young boy said. “I don’t like apple juice.” The moment froze me in all the playoff excitement, the way all special and meaningful moments should.

If somehow, I could have captured that conversation on tape, I would have had one of those special sporting moments for parents everywhere, the kind you need to play for coaches and executive and trainers and managers and all of us who take kids hockey way too seriously. It isn’t life or death, as we like to think it is. It isn’t do or die as often as we pretend it to be. In one tiny moment in one game minor hockey was reduced to what it really is about. Apple juice. OK, so it’s not apple juice. But what apple juice happens to represent in all of this. The snack. The routine. The ritual. Kids can win and lose and not even give a second’s thought about either, but don’t forget the post-game drinks. If anything will spoil a good time, that will.

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