I’d volunteered to coach. After all, this was said to be the whole point: father and child together on the ice and on the road. But I was a bad coach, moody and aloof. I’d never been a leader. I’m a slave to the chemicals in my brain, that great tidal flow.
I imagined being a different sort of person as a coach. I’d skate beside my boy and his teammates, guiding them through the particulars of the game, but I was in fact impatient. I could never clearly explain what I wanted them to do, or get them to do it. It was even worse with my own son. I never forgot that I loved him, but I could see only what he was doing wrong.