A Letter to My Not-So-Little Brother

The other day, it occurred to me that tonight will be the game of the spring hockey season for my little brother Johnny, a first year Midget. This week also marks my last week of high school and three months from tomorrow, I’ll be moving out and the frequent road trips to rinks throughout Southeast Michigan will be no more for me. So here is my “letter” to my not-so-little brother Johnny.

To my not-so-little brother,

First of all, thanks for choosing to play hockey, I don't think I could've stayed awake for an entire baseball game or been able to stand to watch you get clobbered playing football.

For the past eight years I’ve froze my toes, fingers, and nose off in fifty some odd different rinks hundreds, if not thousands, of times at all hours of the day. Whether it’s been a 7AM game time in Ann Arbor on a Saturday morning or an 8:30pm practice time in Ann Arbor, I’ve spent the majority of my high school and middle school years at some kind of ice arena and it’s typically been because of you. I’d like to think don’t really complain that much, not as much as Jake does anyway, unless of course we have to get up and leave before the sun is up and I don’t get to sleep in on Saturday morning.

As much as I may have complained over the years, I wouldn’t trade those eight years of freezing for anything else. You see, since you’ve started playing hockey, I’ve learned that there’s no better place to “grow up” than at an ice rink, especially the one we’ve spent so much time at here at Adrian College.

I’ve probably embarrassed you more times than you can remember, whether I’m yelling “Number 91 you’re my hero!” or asking the officials what game they think they’re watching after some punk kid hits you from behind right in front of his face. But, hey, you can’t pick your family, can you?

When I decided I wanted to play hockey, you could’ve been a real jerk and purposely showed me up every chance you got when we were on the ice together, but instead you let me win a few battles and took it easy on me until I started to be able to catch up to you. Then there was no going easy on me ever again. You even let me use your gear that one time I didn’t bring it in the car because I didn’t think I was going to make it to practice.

This past season, I got to skate with you and be a coach for your team, which was pretty cool even if it meant I had to wear all my gear when I went out on the ice with you baffoons because, as Dad and I said, you guys are too big and too dumb and don’t watch where you’re going!

The season before that, I ran the clock nearly every home game, mostly because Mom knew I couldn’t get into any trouble in there (which she was mistaken, I managed to make one ref angry last week when I blew the horn and made him stop the game, but oh well). It was pretty cool to be in the box, most of the time I could see you on the bench and if you were sitting on the end, you would give me looks when the refs made bad calls or when your teammates did something totally stupid.

For the past eight seasons, that’s how I measure time now that my life revolves around a number of different hockey teams, I’ve been to too many of your games for me to even begin to try to count. From the nice rinks like Arrington, Yost and Munn to the freezing cold rinks with no warm lobby like Grand Oaks, Garden City and Frasier. From all the way up in Saint Clair Shores down to Bowling Green, the past eight years have been absolutely crazy, Mom’s put 85,000 miles on her car that’s only been through two hockey seasons!

Next year is going to be pretty different, in August as you’re getting ready to start your first year of Midget A and having summer practices, I’ll be packing up my things and getting ready to move into my dorm at Adrian College. And the only thing I disliked about youth hockey (well, besides crummy refs that is), tournaments, I won’t be going to any next season. Although, I will not miss sharing a tiny hotel room with you and Jake and Mom and Dad, I will miss the memories that we made while being trapped in a tiny room for two and a half days or on the three hour car rides to Grand Rapids and back.

But, just because I’ll be graduating this Friday and just because I’m moving out in August doesn’t mean that I won’t be wherever you’re playing in spirit and I expect a phone call after every single game next season, unless it’s at eight in the morning, if so, wait till eleven or so because I’d like to sleep in on Saturdays now that I don’t have to go to the rink in the mornings anymore. (PS you can skip any parts of the game where you get cheap shotted by some punk because that will probably just get me all riled up, but you already knew that ;) )

You probably already knew this, but I’ve had an absolute blast following you around the majority of Southwest Michigan and some of Eastern Michigan and I wouldn’t trade the 7AM start times in Ann Arbor or the 8:30 PM start times in Farmington Hills, the freezing cold toes and inability to wear shorts in May even when it’s 80 out because you have a game that night or the many, many car rides where I slept on the way home because it was nearly midnight and I had gotten up for my 10AM class that morning and we had been out the night before just as late for your practice, I wouldn’t trade those things for the world. If I had the chance to my entire life over again and if I got to choose what kind of family I’d get, I’d still choose this one because there is nothing better than being a hockey sister, or being a part of a hockey family.

I know you’re Mr. Cool now that you’re almost 15 and a “Midget” and you have facial hair and your voice changed and all that, but you’ll always been my adorable little brother who decided to try hockey at seven years old whose jersey hung to his knees during his first game because they didn’t have a small enough one and I’ll always have your back on and off the ice.

Love (even though you roll your eyes at that word),

Carly xoxo (you’re probably making a face at that too, but I’d expect no less!)