What the Hockey Rink Taught Me About Parenting

Yesterday I was standing at the top of the bleachers watching my second hockey game of the day.

The first had been unbelievably frustrating, and the second was shaping up to be the same. I had too much energy in my body to sit—like a tight rubber band refusing to release. Cold rink air. Bright lights. Two minutes left. My son’s team down by one.

My jaw was tight. My chest felt constricted. Parents around me were exploding after another bad call.

“What are you watching, ref?”
“Call it both ways!”

I felt the urge to scream. To throw my hands in the air. And then I saw our usually calm coach lose it. Something in the air shifted. Not just frustration—but fear.

Because this wasn’t only about the referees. It was about our kids flying across the ice with blades strapped to their feet. It was about the helpless feeling that we couldn’t protect them. That the people responsible for keeping things safe and fair were completely out of our control.

And I thought, ugh… this is what being a parent is, isn’t it?

Especially to teenagers.

We watch.
We encourage.
We yell from the stands when something feels unfair.

But at the end of the day, we don’t actually control any of it. Loving a child is a quiet kind of terror—watching someone you love move through a world you can’t control. And the older they get, the less control you have.

Helplessness.
Powerlessness.
The constant question in the background: Will they be okay?

A few days earlier, an irate parent on the other team had been asked to leave the rink. He refused. The police were called. So where is the line? How do we model the right way to handle moments like this?

Yesterday, I found myself yelling. Then I took a breath. Relaxed my shoulders. Took a few slow sips of cold water. Was it perfect? No. Did it help? A little. And sometimes, a little is enough.

Because here’s another hard truth our kids are learning in real time:

Sometimes you can do everything right and still get penalized. Sometimes things aren’t fair. Sometimes the other team wins. Sometimes roughness is rewarded and tempers flare.

But our kids are still watching. They’re watching how we handle frustration. How we respond to unfairness. How we behave when we feel powerless. And what we do becomes the blueprint for how they learn to move through the world.

Long after the final buzzer, that may be the lesson that matters most.