Here in Hockey Town

Is there something in the water out here? My two-year-old son, Joey, is obsessed with hockey, and he didn’t learn it from me.

I grew up in Northern Illinois. We moved to Arlington two years before Joey was born. Back in Chicago they have the champion Blackhawks, and a wagon full of fair-weather fans, but overall most sports lovers would prefer anything but soccer to a hockey match. I’ve watched less than 20 hockey games in total. I never played hockey as a kid and only wore skates once or twice in my life, while countless hours were spent throwing a ball around.

But when I gave Joey a whiffle bat, he immediately set the ball on the driveway and hit it like a puck. And he hit it well! I was shocked. Hockey was even one of his first words. He asked Santa for a hockey stick at Christmas and was overjoyed to find one under the tree. Since then Joey has obsessed about making ice skates out of oversized Legos and clumsily skidding across the hardwood floor. And Joey’s fixation will only increase as we watch skating events during the Olympics this week.

And there’s nothing I can do. Don’t get me wrong— I’m not complaining. Hockey is a great sport and I like it more every time I see it. The athletes are incredibly strong and resilient, and I’m proud to foster any interest my son has in exercise.

The point is, you never know what your kids will like. You can’t force their opinions or skills. You just hope they find what they like and embrace it.

But I hope Joey takes his hand-eye coordination and switches to baseball at some point. Hundreds of dollars in gear and 5AM ice times, really? What’s next, skiing? Come on kid, a basketball costs 10 bucks.