AMHL Glory: A Passion for Morning Hockey (and Donuts)

AMHL Glory Introduction: the Joy of Hockey

2007-10-01T10:40:00.000-07:00

AMHL Glory Fans,

The piece that follows is a reconstructed version of the book's introduction. I've edited it to meet the requirements for a creative writing contest administered by Answers.com.

People ask me about that shining moment when I first fell in love with hockey. Realizing hockey has been in my blood has been more a prolonged dawning than a flash of recognition. I didn’t play the game during my salad days. My earliest hockey memory, though, is as an eight-year-old, watching my dad’s Rangers against the Bruins in the 1972 Stanley Cup Finals.

Not until I was a teenager did I get that adrenaline rush while digging dulled blades into a frozen pond and eluding other players who wanted that ebonite prize bobbling along my stick blade. Sensing the pure pleasure of pushing the puck between two tennis shoes, I wanted more.

During my high school years, I became agog with hockey, but my love for it was unrequited. I would give hockey everything I had for two months on the pond; then, it would dump me because the pond couldn’t commit to being frozen for longer than that. When the ice would melt back into the pond, I’d long for the return of winter—or for the city to build an ice rink—which would reunite me with the object of my affection.

However, the hockey gods scorned me: They didn’t build that rink, and they stole the NHL team my family and I had coveted most by letting hockey’s henchmen move it to another city across the country.

I went away to college, to a place just south of The Great White Heartland of Hockey where I could adore and learn about the game from those who loved it with more fervor than I had felt or known possible.

There I started to understand the balance between raw talent and dedication—and that it helped if you had both. Realizing I had little of the first, I knew I’d have to find more of the second to become part of the Frozen Fraternity. I dedicated myself to becoming a better player, if only as a fringe member of the team.

Soon afterward, though, I traded the pursuit of glory for gazpacho. In Spain, where ice rinks were rare, I acquired a new language if not a taste for cold soup. Then, before I knew it, career, marriage, and kids—and all the self-imposed pressure that came with these responsibilities—claimed precedence. I all but divorced myself from the game I had loved.

Unknowingly, I had turned the tables on the hockey gods, allowing myself only the occasional fling on the ice. For the better part of a decade, I lingered around the game’s edges, a part-time participant feeling unworthy of full membership in the club to beat all clubs.

Yet, the hockey gods had a plan for me because after a series of scarring setbacks, I clawed my way back toward a more balanced life. .

Now that I’ve been in Massachusetts and playing hockey regularly, I realize how much the game enriches my life. I realize what I was missing and rarely take for granted the horripilation on my arms as I enter the arena; the sound and feel of sharpened blades carving into the ice; the simian shenanigans and subsequent laughter that belies the fug in a room shared by ten sweaty men and their rarely-washed hockey socks.

The joy of hockey knows no borders. The elation I feel while playing stays with me as my wife and cross the 49th parallel. We take so many trips to Canada that I’ve been accused of being a “Canadian spy.” I’m not what federal authorities consider a fifth-column, but it’s a thrill to “abscond” across the border, gather “intelligence,” and then return home to play more hockey and plan our next trip.

Even in places where ice hockey isn’t king, it isn’t hard to find. In England, most tourists visit Buckingham Palace, the Kew Gardens, and London Bridge, but you won’t find them in Basingstoke. There, my wife and I watched the Bison battle the Cardiff Devils.

The beauty in all these experiences is that as my love for hockey has intensified, so have my proclivity for music and my passion for composing stories with references to the likes of U2, Journey, and Wham! I’m no Bach or Mozart, but I create my little opuses to share with others who love the game—and all its extending benefits—as much as I do.

AMHL Glory Update

2006-11-04T08:56:00.000-08:00

Ever Googled your name? I do it every once in a while because I want to make sure my writing doesn’t appear somewhere else without my permission and to get a better idea of how readers find my site.

Well, last week I learned that a piece I submitted—and had been paid to write—appeared at USAHockey.com in September. I was wondering what happened to this short bit about the setting of my Thursday morning activities, the subject of Chapter Six in AMHL Glory, and now I know.

Of course, you’ll read more once the book is published (an update on that in December), but for now, here’s a glimpse of The Rink.

AMHL Glory Soundtrack

2006-07-09T06:01:00.000-07:00

If the book ever becomes a movie, the songs listed below for each chapter would have to be included in the soundtrack. And even if the book remains just a book, music enhances memories.

1. "Twist and Shout" (The Beattles, from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off)
2. "Summer of ’69" (Bryan Adams)
3. "Cleveland Rocks" (Ian Hunter)
4. "Oh What a Night" (The Four Seasons)
5. "1970 Somethin’" (Mark Wills)
6. "Oklahoma" (performed by various artists)
7. "My Best Friend’s Girl" (The Cars)
8. "Mama Mía "(ABBA)
9. "Let My Love Open the Door" (Pete Townsend)
10. "Rock and Roll, Part 2" (Gary Glitter)
11. "Walkin’ on Sunshine" (Katrina and the Waves)
12. "Your Song" (Elton John)
13. "Heat of the Moment" (Asia)
14. "Sea of No Cares" (Great Big Sea)
15. "Flashdance" (Irene Cara)
16. "To Be with You" (Mr. Big)
17. "Vamos a La Playa" (Righeira)
18. "The Good Ol’ Hockey Game" (Stompin’ Tom Connors)
19. "My Life’s a Radio" (KISS)
20. "With or Without You" (U2)
21. "Piano Man" (Billy Joel)
22. "Life is a Highway" (Tom Cochrane)
23. TBD
24. "Reunited" (Peaches and Herb)

Epilogue Bonus Tracks:

"Live Like You Were Dyin'" (Tim McGraw)
"One Night in Bangkok" (Murray Head)

AMHL Glory: Book Description and Table of Contents

2006-07-09T05:54:00.000-07:00

AMHL Glory: A Passion for Morning Hockey (and Donuts):

Front cover: In the background, imaginary AMHL fans roar their approval from the stands. In the foreground, the arena’s dim lights cast a subtle shadow over a middle-aged amateur holding aloft the AMHL equivalent of the Stanley Cup: The Koffey Cup—with its Maple Leaf Mug affixed atop a clunky hunk of hardware—that has adult men and women chasing their hockey dreams. At the man’s feet lie two boxes of donuts (one from Dunkin’ Donuts, the other from Canada’s premier donut purveyor, Tim Hortons).

What’s the book about? AMHL Glory: A Passion for Morning Hockey (and Donuts) is the true story of a nomadic NHL fan and stay-at-home defenseman who rediscovers his love for his favourite sport (and pastry) in the ultimate co-ed, early morning hockey league.

Timeframe: Spring 2003 with flashbacks to players’ (including a more detailed chronological account of my own) hockey histories.

Primary Location: New England

Secondary Locations: New York, Oklahoma, Colorado, Minnesota, Ontario, Newfoundland, Prince Edward Island, Nova Scotia, British Columbia.

Primary Market: the 15- to 105-year-old who loves the game of hockey, admires NHL players, and gets a certain feeling of “mini-greatness” by playing the only place he/she can—at the local level.

Secondary Market: anyone who knows someone in the Primary Market, i.e., most Canadians.

Book Length: about 250 pages, with 25 chapters, including...

Chapter One: Legends and the Lunatic

Off-season. The new season is two weeks away, so I reflect upon last season’s championship game (when my skates failed me). I meet a Bruin legend and shake hands with a “legendary” dog. Meet my wife (and AMHL photographer) as I defend my delirious behavior during the bonding process with my new skates.

Chapter Two: Tuesday

My season is still two days away, but because a dozen or so players belong to both the Tuesday and Thursday leagues, their season starts this morning. I’m strictly an observer at the rink on Tuesdays, introducing you to AMHL characters such as the league’s only female goalie, and my “chauffeur.” I also illuminate league rules and conventions.

Chapter Three: Thursday

Ladies and gentlemen, meet your AMHL Avalanche. I put on my game face, illustrate my pre-game rituals, and grant you special access to the Avalanche locker room. I transmit the game action against the Capitals and then diagnose a dilemma.

Chapter Four: The Wonder Years

While at a college hockey game in Rhode Island, I flash back to my earliest hockey memories. New England loses a well-respected sportswriter. Relax while I take a pre-game nap for a special annual night game and then eavesdrop as I fish for quotes at the post-game festival.

Chapter Five: The Kid from Cut Knife

I learn one AMHL icon has called it quits and try my hand at trivia. I marvel at the first miracle of the season but still have to visit the dreaded dentist. Tune in as I turn the tables on a local TV reporter.

Chapter Six: The Rink

I describe not only the history, look, and feel of my home rink (from locker room to trophy room to the Wall of Fame), but also resurrect the rink’s magical moments. I introduce its hockey heroes, including the Barrassos, “Badger” Bob, and Laurie Baker. Read more about it here!

Chapter Seven: “It Was 1970 Somethin’”

In this second flashback segment, I introduce my family and describe how I developed my devotion to Dunkin’ Donuts. I also conduct a tour of my current environs, shedding light on my day job activities and weekend routine.

Chapter Eight: Stage Three

I comment on my role with the Avalanche as we combat the Panthers. Following our game, my Canadian goalie enlightens me with his hockey story, which overlaps my adolescent hockey experience. I visit with my parents (one of whom has cancer) and my brother (a vegan) when they stop in Beantown en route to the Mother Country.

Chapter Nine: McNichols Arena and the Marina Monster

As the NHL approaches the All-Star break, I describe what the Boston Bruins are up to as well as the unusual happenings during our second game against the Capitals. I also revisit, with an assist to my little brother, the pond where I first played hockey.

Chapter Ten: Play Tough

NHL defensemen are scoring goals left and right, which prompts me to wonder when I’ll rise to the occasion again. I recount my parents’ overseas hijinks, which take place at about the same time as my journey into unfamiliar territory and bout with self-confidence. The new AMHL Avalanche jerseys have arrived just in time for our second battle against the Bruins. After the game, my chauffeur shares his hockey history.

Chapter Eleven: Slap on, Slap off, the Slapper

A phone call with my brother in St. Louis prompts a flashback to my high school hockey days. I also narrate my minor league media experience—filled with unexpected donut anecdotes and defensive heroics—and relive the story’s second miracle on ice.

Chapter Twelve: Tuques and Timmy’s

February 13: the midpoint of the AMHL season. I analyze our place in the standings and identify the league’s scoring leaders. I learn why the AMHL’s all-time points leader (and self-proclaimed putz) despises breakaways. The AMHL’s commissioner talks about tuques and Tim Hortons, and the ex-commissioner repeats his fascinating first four words as a human being and Boston Bruins’ fan. I also pen a poem for my wife.

Chapter Thirteen: 10,000 Lakes and the Turtle

In another flashback segment, I write about selecting a college and my preparation to make the hockey team. I also introduce my “extraterrestrial” roommate and divulge what it was like to be a stranger in a strange land with a strange nickname.

Chapter Fourteen: Love is in the (Frigid) Air

It’s Valentine’s Day, so I reveal a glimpse of my love life, past and present, as well as a budding AMHL love affair (all set to musical references you can sway to). I also elaborate on my on-ice alter ego, the one that treats rules more like fuzzy guidelines. In another flashback segment, learn why I fled the country.

Chapter Fifteen: Frozen Phalanges and the Powerful Podiatrist

In NHL action, two Harvard graduates from different decades go head to head. The AMHL Avalanche team doctor is on call as we battle the Capitals for the third time. I detail a defenseman’s dilemma and announce another’s retirement in the heat of battle.

Chapter Sixteen: End of an Era

Experience the rise and demise of the Dunkin’ Doughnut. Relive the radio call as Donny Defense lights the lamp, and pinch yourself when you witness the AMHL points leader play defense. Hear what music is playing in my chauffeur’s head.

Chapter Seventeen: Nicknames and Stick Games

Injuries take their toll, and a rookie makes his mark in our bout with the AMHL Bruins. An Avalanche teammate unveils a surprise about his relationship with his boyhood idol, and our team captain and chief legal counsel provides full disclosure about his hockey history. A co-worker compares me to the “Great One.”

Chapter Eighteen: Alien Abduction

Tuesday players dis’ the AMHL media, and a rumored alien abduction is dispelled. Join the discussion on the way to work: Would you play in the NHL if given the chance?

Chapter Nineteen: Of Mice and Ice

Rodents plague the pre-game conversation as the AMHL Avalanche prepare for our last regular season game—against the Panthers. “Gump” and “Grump” display their displeasure. Meet the league’s MVP (Most Volatile Player) and his mentor as they provide the post-game entertainment.

Chapter Twenty: Road Trip

Ride along on the pilgrimage to the Heart of Hockey and the Home of Defence. Learn what it takes to be a Complete Hockey Player and if I apply my newfound knowledge on the ice—just in time for the AMHL play-offs. In another flashback segment, I expose an off-ice omen.

Chapter Twenty-one: Power Thoughts and the Piano Man

Drive south into enemy territory as the NHL trading deadline approaches. Squirm in the dentist chair and discover grit. Meet “Mr. Points” while I try to find my pants (and my happy place).

Chapter Twenty-two: Crash and Burn

Help me with my hockey homework as the AMHL Avalanche prepare for our first-round play-off game. Meet the sister I never had and, after I endure scarring setbacks, the wife I had never envisioned. Leukemia rears its ugly head at an innocent child, and that makes a cross-country move all the more difficult.

Chapter Twenty-three: “Canadian Spy?”

Travel with me, on a six-province tour of the Heart of Hockey, to discover how an ardent American evolved into a covert Canadian.

Chapter Twenty-four: Or Double Agent?

Learn how I respond to repeated inquiries about my ancestry and to which county I pledge allegiance. A special flashback reveals a surprise about a family eager to escape a collapsing country where snow does not fall—and which lands on the Dwyer doorstep.

Chapter Twenty-five: Peaches and Herb

Join the crowd and cheer the AMHL play-off victors. Witness the beginning of one AMHL career and mourn the end of another. An ESPN hockey commentator announces a major reunification as the NHL gears up for the play-offs, and AMHL management reunites old friends for the next season.

Epilogue

Donut Boy, Mr. Points, the Chauffeur…Where are they now? My parents, my points total, and my petulant push toward perfectionism…How are they faring? Listen to a poignant interview with the Koffey Cup!

AMHL Glory Introduction

2006-07-09T05:45:00.000-07:00

Updated: January 27, 2012

Camaraderie and morning donuts is what makes the AMHL (as in every Tuesday and Thursday at 6:30 AM Hockey League) unique. Hallowed friendships and high-fructose foods: these were the primary elements of the story I was prepared to write.

In his book, Home Ice, Jack Falla reminisces about playing hockey on his backyard rink with his son and two brothers. When one player—in what was supposed to be a friendly “no-check” two-on-two game—took to tripping the other, a good-natured revenge match ensued. The trippee became the tripper and then yelled, “That is what the fans came to see.” Falla summarizes the spirit of his familial competition in front of the “fans” as if he was born to play in the AMHL: “There were, of course, no fans, and it didn’t matter.”

You hear the same types of comments before, during, and after AMHL games. We joke about the imaginary fans watching on ESPN, TSN, or the CBC’s fictitious Hockey Morning in Canada. And, we vocalize our half-baked dreams of NHL scouts discovering a bona fide prospect from our obscure morning hockey—that one AMHL player who might have a shot at making it to the Show. Even though we have jerseys and officials to give our game more structure than Falla’s backyard battles, we AMHLers struggle with the same love-loathe relationship with the NHL as most anyone who skates on Falla’s Bacon Street Omni in Natick, Massachusetts. Our games at Valley Sports Arena in West Concord, like Falla’s home ice games, are unencumbered with the trappings of NHL hockey: TV timeouts, forced enthusiasm, and eight-dollar pretzels. Yet, these elements of the professional game, fused with the would-be fans (and exaggerated game summaries), fuel our fire to play for a tangible prize. The Fallas compete for the right to write their names on an empty aluminum beer keg; AMHL team members play to have their team’s name adorned on the AMHL’s version of the Stanley Cup: a hideous—yet holy—hunk of homemade hardware called the Koffey Cup. The trophy consists of a semi-wooden base (faux donuts pasted to it)—from which rises a shiny thirty (or so)—cup coffee maker, the lid sprouting four inches of a black hockey stick, which is topped by the pièce de résistance, a standard-sized coffee cup emblazoned with none other than the Maple Leaf.

I had intended to pepper this saga with hockey stories of these players who transform the AMHL, an obscure league that might seem like your run-of-the-mill, often over-the-hill collection of hockey players, into a dream league for the common man (and woman). I had chosen to frame the story around one season, adding insight about why each player would drag him- (or herself) out of bed at 5:00 a.m. to brave the darkness, harsh elements, and mad Massachusetts drivers to play a game that likely wouldn’t be witnessed by a single fan. I was going to highlight morning hockey’s allure for all who pay to play in a dimly lit arena and who aren’t destined for the big salaries and bright lights of the NHL. In short, I wanted to write a story for and about those who would never play in the parallel universe called the NHL, but who love hockey as much as Wayne Gretzky or Bobby Orr does.

I hadn’t intended to make this a memoir and include aspects of my humdrum life away from the ice—until Jack Falla told me I owed that much to you—because I hadn’t realized how hockey was, and still is, so much of my life. I couldn’t count how many times I found myself reflecting upon hockey memories. The more I paid attention to the details of the present, the more I flashed back to the collective minutia of my hockey history. The more I immersed myself in the total literary and hockey experience, the more attracted to hockey I became. It didn’t matter whether I was playing or observing others who were tapped into our collective craze.

People ask me about that shining moment when I first fell in love with hockey. I had no such epiphany. Realizing hockey had been in my blood was more a prolonged dawning than a flash of recognition—just like my respect for Canada. Unlike Orr, Gretzky, and most other professional players, I didn’t play the game as a youngster. My earliest hockey memory is as an eight-year-old, watching the Rangers against the Bruins in the 1972 Stanley Cup Finals. I don’t remember a single detail of the game—only that I was with my dad.

I’ll tell you all about my hockey memories, from adolescence to adulthood, later. I can, however, share this much with you now: I was raised in New York, Oklahoma, and Colorado, so I rooted for the Rangers, Blazers, and Rockies. But I grew up in Massachusetts, home of Bruins and the AMHL.

Only from playing in my morning hockey league and writing this book have I learned I’m blessed not only with a wonderful hockey past but also with the chance to make new memories with others, connected through the same passion, in many cases with others who had spent considerable time away from the game, too. I began to marvel at miracles on and off the ice. And I forgave myself.

I also wondered…would I score a goal? Would we win the championship? How might losing affect me? Away from the ice, what would I learn? What kind of characters might I meet on a road trip with my wife to watch a hockey game? How would my affection for Canada fit into the story? Would all this matter to you?

As the season progressed, I stared face to face with my fears, frustrations, and foibles. How I confronted my weaknesses—not only as a hockey player but also as a human being—and how I dealt with the sometimes glorious, sometimes gut-wrenching vicissitudes of life became a key to my happiness. I had already begun a more spiritual journey before joining the AMHL, but being a member of this donut dream league sharpened my focus on that expedition in ways I could not have predicted.

Along this sacred sojourn, I have developed a deeper relationship with my family and have established enduring relationships with Canadians and the glorious game they—and I—treasure most.

I trust that AMHL Glory will affirm or rekindle your passion for hockey (and/or donuts), no matter where you live or whether or not you still play the game.

[1]. Home Ice (Tampa: McGregor Publishing, 2001)